Melt Your Headaches, Call It Home

I sighed and shifted under my covers for the hundredth time.

I’ve been trying to get to sleep for three hours now, its two o'clock in the morning and I will be grouchy in the morning if I don't get enough sleep.

Strangely enough, earlier, I almost fell asleep as we were all watching a movie, even its hilarity couldn't keep me awake. The entire time, as my head slowly sunk and rested on Ryan's shoulder, Alice and Brendon snickered and whispered to each other.

That’s probably why I can't sleep. I can't stop thinking and it's too hot here.

Our apartment doesn't have a master bedroom, but mine is a bit bigger than Alice's (she does have a bigger closet) and I have a small balcony off of my room. It's perfect when I have to sit and think, like tonight.

I managed to gingerly heave myself onto my chair without making too much noise, and roll myself outside. The air was slightly cool but a warm breeze constantly makes its way towards our building.

I love the city at night. I love how alive it is but more peaceful than during the day. Most of the noises don't make it up to here and I can watch everything go by in silence.

I heard the strumming of a guitar from my brother's balcony next to us; one of the boys must be out here too. As I tried to sneakily roll forward to peek past the separating metal, I knocked over one of my wilting plants with a big clunk.

The strumming stopped and a head peeked around the divider, "Charlotte? What are you doing up?"

It was Ryan.

"I could ask you the same thing."

"Yeah, but I asked first."

"Ok," I admitted, "I can't sleep."

"Me either. I'll be back in a second," he said and his head disappeared from view, I heard the sliding glass door shut and then I was alone.

Not a minute later, Ryan was walking onto my balcony with his guitar; he shut the doors and settled down into the cushioned lounge chair that I normally sat in.

"How can you play the guitar with one hand?" I asked him as he held it in his lap.

"I'm not supposed to…"

"Then give it here."

He reluctantly handed it over and I leaned it up against the side of the building.

"So why couldn't you fall asleep?" he asked me.

"I just couldn't shut my brain off, I couldn't stop thinking..." About you, though I didn’t mention that.

"Same, I just couldn't get comfortable since we're not supposed to sleep on our stomach, plus my arm aches," he said.

"Yeah, it's hard to sleep on your back. My ribs hurt, I've done too much laughing lately," I said, feeling that last statement was slightly ironic.

We lapsed into a comfortable silence and I stared out at the other tall buildings, but I felt Ryan's eyes on me.

"What?" I asked.

"I was just think how different things would be if I hadn't heard you that night," he said thoughtfully.

"You'd be in better shape," I joked.

"But not better off."

"You would be out in some other city, just having played a show in front of people who adore you guys, and you certainly wouldn't have a broken arm," I said incredulously, "You wouldn't be in pain… how is that not better off?"

"Some things are worth it," he said sharply, but keeping his voice quiet.

"Ryan, what are you talking about?" I asked, slightly startled by his change in tone.

"Do you seriously think that I think that your life isn't worth this broken arm?"

"No, but I was just thinking that you'd probably be out doing something that you love rather than sitting at some girl’s apartment," I shot back annoyed.

"Oh and where would you be? Six feet under? Anyway, you're more than just some girl. You should know better than to marginalize yourself," Ryan fumed.

A thicker silence enveloped us and we sat there, angry for the longest time. Just because he's famous, doesn't mean he gets to jump to conclusions and act like an ass.

After the traffic lights below us changed a half a dozen times, I heard Ryan say, in a distinctly soft voice, "Charlotte?"

I ignored him and looked out at the park a few blocks away, concentrating on the tiny figure walking their dog at 3am, wondering why they would be out at this time. Maybe they can't sleep either.

"Charlotte, I'm sorry, that was out of line. I just don’t want you to feel guilty," he tried again, leaning forward so that the between us shrank.

This time I looked over at him and in the yellowed city light, I could see that he did truly look sorry.

"It's ok," I said quietly, now avoiding his gaze.

"Let's just leave it at the fact that I'm really glad I was able to help you."

I was hoping he’d keep talking but he didn't elaborate.

Our third silence of the night drifted over us and this time, I found myself watching him once I was sure he wasn't looking at me.

Ryan was looking thoughtfully up at the faintly starry sky and bit his lip as his thoughts deepened. His eyes suddenly contracted in pain and his hand gingerly went to cradle his cast, which drew my attention away from his face.

For the first time I noticed that he had only boxers and a tattered Blink 182 shirt on. I quickly brought my eyes back up to his face, but I saw his eyes looking back at me; luckily it was dark enough so that he couldn't see my blush.

"What?" It was his turn to ask.

"I was just thinking about how I went and saw you guys when the band was really small," I laughed, making up a reason on the spot, "and how you used to wear that makeup."

"Hey, I got pretty good at it," Ryan defended himself.

"You have no idea how funny it was to listen to all those girls squeal about how amazing you were… although they still do," I continued, "It was really good though."

"Yeah, well I'm done with that now."

"I know, but I also know that you are a pretty good artist and stuff."

"Uh thanks?"

"Could you do some drawings on my cast?" I asked, slightly embarrassed.

He gave a huge theatrical sigh, "Well, if you really want the great fantastical Ryan Ross to do you a drawing, I guess I must," however, his grin sent a different message and I could tell he was pleased that I asked.

I told him where my art stuff was and he returned shortly with my bin of supplies which had been hidden safe in my closet.

He scooted the chair closer and sat on the edge of it, pulling out some paint and brushes. To give him some more light, I had lit the candles I keep out on the deck.

"Ok, there's one condition of me doing this."

"What?"

"That you only return the honor and draw some stick figures on mine," he said.

"Excuse me, I am way above stick figures," I said indignantly.

"Stop making excuses and hold out your arm. And hold it still because I can't steady it with my other hand."

Ryan made me close my eyes so that I wouldn't see it before it was done and kept checking to see if I was peeking. Which, of for once in my life, I wasn't. Every so often he would have me shift so that he could reach another section of the cast.

After forever he announced that he was done and that I could look, and so I did.

All over the white cast (practically blocking all the white out) he had put swirling designs in purples and blues of all different shades and black, he had worked in my name on the back of my hand in neon green.

"Wow," I breathed, "Ryan, this is really good."

"Thanks. Oh, by the way, the green glows in the dark," he said excitedly.

"My turn! Close your eyes," I was thrilled; I knew exactly what I was going to do.

"Fine, but then I get to do your foot."

As I was working on my masterpiece we talked about who the best character on LOST is.

"Sayid is the man," he was saying, "I mean he can do everything."

"Sawyer definitely is the best," I argued.

"You just think he's hot," he shot back.

"No," I returned, "His character has a lot of depth and he's finally let his good side take over and not try to be the guy that everybody hates."

"Charlie was the best though."

"Yeah," I agreed, "He was my favorite, and he and Claire were so cute together."

I could sense some attitude from him so I said, "Don't you roll your eyes at me."

"My eyes are shut," he said.

"You can still roll your eyes when your lids are shut; now, I'm done so open your eyes."

Ryan opened his eyes and looked down at my masterpiece, he read, Ryan Ross loves Charlotte Labelle, Ryan 'hearts' Charlotte, Ryan is a dreamboat, Charlotte was here," He stopped reading and looked over the giant hearts I had so beautifully drawn all over his arm.

I asked, "So what do you think?"

His eyes grew mischievous, "My turn to do your leg." He said smirking.

Shit, my smile faded, I had forgotten about that.

When he was done, my cast also had lots of hearts all over it and also read things like, Charlotte loves Ryan forever, and Mrs. Ryan Ross. Ryan's personal favorite was Charlotte is a Ryan Ross fan girl.

We talked about random stuff while our casts dried and slowly we grew sleepier and sleepier and our talking grew sparse.

We decided to go back to bed before we fell asleep out here and everyone found us in the morning. We said goodnight and I clambered into my bed; soon I fell asleep with Ryan on my mind.