Sound Effects and Overdramatics

My phone lay on my stomach, held loosely in my hand. I stared up at my ceiling and tapped my index finger against the case. I sighed, brought my phone up, and got as far as unlocking it before setting it back down.

I rolled over and tucked my hand under my pillow, curling my legs up, and brought my phone up to my face. I pushed the side button to light it up, and an old picture of Synyster Gates stared back at me. He was on stage, his back against Zacky’s, shredding some awesome rift.

After I’d flown back to London, tail tucked between my legs, I changed it to serve as a reminder.

Stupid. So, so stupid.

Two years and I still turned to jelly around him. Two years, and I was still giving him excuses.

I still didn’t know why I went to California. I could tell myself that it was for support, that I was mourning Jimmy as much as they were, and it was true, but at the same time, it wasn’t, because I had no place in flying all the way out to pay my respects.

It was because I loved Brian. I wanted to see him, to comfort him.

And I wanted to check up on him.

Seeing Michelle with the ring hadn’t shocked me as much as I thought it would. I could admit that I was jealous, but what was I doing about it? Nothing, because it wasn’t my place. Brian would be happy with her and I shouldn’t have gotten in the way of it.

I sat up and crossed my legs, pulling my pillow into my lap. I set my phone on top and tapped out the password for the millionth time. I pulled up my contacts and pulled up his number. I'd always had it, but I still hadn’t used it.

What was holding me back? Humiliation, definitely. Pride was a given.

There were just too many things in the way.

I’d thrown myself at him and immediately did a one-eighty. He’d been content to just lay there and watch movies and I blew it because I couldn’t resist. I didn’t think until after it was over, and it was too late to take it back.

The best I could do was make sure it didn’t happen again. We’d both made new lives for ourselves.

We were also both miserable.

I locked my phone again, groaned, and threw myself back onto my bed.

“Knock knock.” Kai greeted, coming through my door.

“Hey.” I didn’t move. I kept my eyes focused on the same spot on my ceiling that I’d been staring at for two days straight, and anytime I was home for the twelve days before that.

I didn’t go out. I went to work, I put make-up on models and high schoolers and brides and whoever else wanted a professional photoshoot done. I did their hair, surrounding myself in a cloud of aerosol. I made sure they looked perfect and at the end of the day, I came home and I ate whatever Kai put in front of me without question, usually accompanied by a fifth of vodka and a pack of Marlboros. I went to sleep, woke up, and did it all over again.

These past two days, Kai mandated that I stay home and dry out. No alcohol anywhere in the house and no work. He knew what was wrong and he didn’t know how to fix it, but he wasn’t going to let me wallow in self-pity anymore.

“I brought coffee.” he ventured, holding out a to-go cup. I reached for my cigarettes and my lighter in response.

The bed dipped down with his weight. He sat at the corner and stared down at me. “Just call him.”

“He doesn’t want to hear from me.”

“Who says?”

“No one, but I wouldn’t want to hear from me if I were him.”

“Beth, he just lost his best friend. You show up, no word on where you’ve been or why you’re there, and he’s ready to drop everything for you. He isn’t just going to let you go again, not now that he knows you’re okay.”

“Well, he did. He made himself pretty damn clear.”

“What are you scared of?”

I sighed and blew smoke towards the ceiling. I hadn’t really processed everything yet. I skipped past denial, anger and bargaining and went straight to depression. The alcohol was the best way to avoid dealing with it.

My doorbell rang, which was odd, because it was two in the afternoon, and there was a blizzard going on outside. Aside from that, I didn’t really get many visitors. Sarah rarely came by, and when she did, it was always some sort of fashion emergency, and she always called ahead of time.

Whoever it was really had a fetish for the sound, because they kept pushing the damn thing. Over and over, until I mustered the will to sit up and take my coffee from Kai, who was just as confused as I was.

“Jesus, I’m coming!” I hollered down the stairs. Kai followed me, staying on the stairs as I flung open the door, ready to yell at whoever it was that decided to interrupt my self-loathing.

And then I stopped dead and had to think about whether or not I was actually sober.

“Brian...wh-what, what are you...what are you doing here? You’re here, at my house. In London. How? Why?” I stammered. I couldn’t get my mouth to close. He was standing there, hands buried deep into a coat, beanie yanked over his swooshy hair, bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet trying to stay warm.

He didn’t say anything. His eyes flicked up over my shoulder to Kai. I turned to look, Kai shrugged and retreated back upstairs. Brian pushed his way past me and into the house. I slammed the door shut behind him, not really sure what to say or if he would even listen to what I had to say anyway.

I followed him into my kitchen and pushed myself onto the counter, watching in minor amusement as he dug around in his pocket. He slammed something onto the marble next to my leg.

“What the hell is that?”

“That is Michelle’s engagement ring. She threw it at me while I was sleeping on the couch, about ten seconds after Matt told her where I was after Jimmy’s funeral.” He sounded out of breath, like he’d ran all the way from the airport.

“Love that guy.” I muttered sarcastically. I picked up the ring and gave it a good look over. “So what are you doing here?”

“That’s a hell of a welcome for your boyfriend.”

“Excuse me?” I jumped off the counter, dropping the ring on the floor. I stared up at him, seething. He looked down at me, the corner of his mouth tilted up in a smirk.

“You are not-we’re not-you and I just-” I couldn’t put a lid down on the panic. It bubbled up, having nowhere to go except out of my mouth.

“Laurel,” he started. I dug my fingers into his coat pocket for his cigarettes, and then patted him down for his lighter.

“No no no no no no no.” I chanted as I lit up. I yanked the cigarette out of my mouth. “You are not my boyfriend Brian! This is not happening!”

He tried to grab my hands. I backed up, tried to take a breath, and lowered my voice. “You can’t just come here and throw some other girl’s ring at me in a declaration of our relationship. Which, by the way, we don’t even have.”

“We don’t?”

“No, we don’t.” I declared.

He nodded, seeming to contemplate my protest. “What’s your deal? Jason said-”

“Jason? What, are you two having pillow talk after he dicks you down now? Since when is that part of the deal?”

“That isn’t fair!”

“Fair? I seem to remember you saying something about fair a couple weeks ago. You know what else isn’t fair? Matt butting in where he doesn’t belong because he’s hung up on you and you’re going to my brother instead.”

“Laurel-” he tried again. I screamed and shoved a bunch of stuff around on the counter. A metal canister clattered to the floor, spilling flour all over Michelle’s shiny ring.

I let myself fall to the floor. I took a long drag off the cigarette, closing my eyes and blowing the smoke up. As I crossed my legs, I felt him crouch down in front of me, keeping his distance.

"Beth…" he whispered. I wiped tears away and struggled to take a drag. I couldn't meet his eyes.

"I love you too much to let you disappear again. You know we belong together. I'm not giving up."

He leaned forward and kissed my forehead. I watched him walk down the hall, meeting Kai at the door. I didn't catch any of their conversation but Kai waited for him to leave before checking on me.

"He's got a room for a couple days. He wants you to call him." He held his hands out to me. I let him pull me to my feet and I tucked myself into him while he led me upstairs.

All I could do was cry.