Melt Your Headaches, Call It Home

Getting into Jon's rental car was no easy feat. After trying several times to slide from the wheelchair to the passenger seat, Jon finally shoved the wheelchair away from the door, and picked me up bridal style.

As he was lowering me into the car he tripped and fell so that his head hit my forehead, which made it the second time in a half hour.

"Ow, fuck you Jon Walker," I complained, grabbing my forehead.

He grinned and said cheekily, "Alright, I was just going to say sorry, but..."

I rolled my eyes; I should have seen that coming.

I glowered fiercely at him when he smirked, "Walker, get in the car before I hit you with this conveniently located and very heavy cast."

"Jeez," he said as he slid into the car, "No need to get huffy, Princess."

As we got closer to my place, I interrupted our fine singing (at least on his part) of "Semi-Charmed Life" by Third Eye Blind, to ask, "What are you guys going to do after Ryan gets out of the hospital?"

He turned down the knob on the volume and looked at me, "Aww, are you going miss us?"

I rolled my eyes, again.

I smiled charmingly, "Everyone but you."

"Suuurre," he said, "Well, Ryan won't be comfortable enough for long travel for a week or two so we're probably just going to stay in a hotel for a while … After all," he grinned, "who else is there to look after you?"

If it was alright with them, I thought I knew of a better option than them staying in a hotel. My older brother and two of our other friends rent the apartment down the hall from me, but were currently in London for some sort of business thing and wouldn’t be back for a couple months. Everyone in Panic could easily stay there, their manager and crew and everyone were planning to go home, but the band wanted to stay with Ryan. They’d be more comfortable and accessible, and Ben had already okayed me renting out to someone for some extra cash if I needed.

As we pulled up to my building, I asked Jon what he thought about the idea of them staying there.

"Well, it would be awesome but only if it's alright with you. Then I wouldn't have to leave you," he said in a fake quavering voice and squeezed me more than necessary as he helped me onto the chair.

I smiled. It’d be fun to having them live next to us for a little while; I wouldn't be bored all day while Alice is at work.

Jon suddenly shot off towards the building, pushing the wheelchair as fast as he could, cackling maniacally. He dodged cars and made the chair jump as we went up the ramp by the entrance. I gripped an armrest with my good hand, smiling, but -

I yelled, "You're going to hit the door!"

He stopped just in time almost flinging me off, we started laughing and pretty soon I was crying. When he saw tears rolling down my cheeks he laughed even harder.

"Excuse me," said a stiff voice interrupting our hilarity, "Please remove yourselves from the foyer." It was the receptionist.

We looked at each other still letting out occasional giggles and wiped our eyes. I looked up at Jon as he wheeled me through the doors and to the elevator, "That was awesome."

He smiled down at me, still breathing harder than normal from his sprint/laugh, "I'm glad you thought so."

That's what I really like about Jon; he always had this sparkle in his eyes and this special grin that told of his mischievous mind. I always had fun with him. Granted, after some of my meds wore off I would probably be sorry for all the laughing I did, but it will have been worth it.

We got off at the 14th floor, tried to find my key, and then finally got the door open.

The room was completely trashed.

We stood with open mouths looking at the damage that had been done.

The one couch that we had was turned over on its side with the fabric slashed. The chairs were all overturned and the bookshelves were all pulled down. Tattered books lay everywhere along with broken lamps and some paintings that we had on the walls.

In the tiny kitchen all our plates and glasses were pulled out of the cabinets and lay broken on the floor. There were even a couple forks and knives stuck in the wall by the door.

I had a feeling that the bedrooms would be in the same condition.

"What happened?!?" I said, my voice cracking. I can't deal with this right now.

"Look," Jon said pointing to the table top. He looked angrily at the message scrawled in red paint across the dining table that Alice’s parent’s had given her:

Pay or you’ll be sorry.

He looked at me, "What the hell is that about?"

I felt small and scared; I grabbed his hand for reassurance, and replied, "I have no idea."

What am I paying for?