Page 15

Alina:

I have no idea what time it is when I open my eyes. I’m super groggy and my brain feels like absolute shit. A huge pile of unwanted, fucking shit. There isn’t a coherent thought to be found. Just the fog of newly repressed trauma and the hazy memory of the eyes of the most handsome boy I’ve ever met…

Sebastian.

My first coherent thought.

Where is he?

My next coherent thought.

But as I stir in the blankets, doing my best to look at my surroundings, I see him sitting in a chair on the other side of the room strumming one of his electric guitars. He’s playing the intro to The Ghost of You by My Chemical Romance, the amp turned way down in order to not disturb me. He could never bother me while playing. His talent is beyond comprehension. He always plays my favorite songs when he’s around me anyway, which is a massive plus. They’re his favorites too.

“Turn the amp up,” I croak from the bed, his eyes flying to mine. A smirk erupts across his face as he bends down to do so. I release a contented sigh.

I smile as his fingers dance over the strings, his voice hitting the inflections of every note change perfectly. I’m truly lost in time when he opens his mouth and gifts me with his vocals. My eyes stray to his neck, watching the way his Adam’s apple fluctuates as he finishes singing the first verse. I feel a tingle erupt through my abdomen, the thrill of witnessing Sebastian Cox never, ever lost on me.

We pick up the next part together. His voice is absolutely stunning and out of this world as he elongates the I’s of the chorus. I’m breathless as always when he performs so effortlessly for me. He is truly rare, a god amongst men and doesn’t even recognize it.

He stands, walking towards me, his fingers moving easily over his guitar. His eyes are screaming something he isn’t saying to me yet as he looks deeply into mine before belting out the next part of the song. I’m too stunned to join him. I allow him this solo performance, greedily soaking in every second of it. As he finishes the second chorus, I’m struck by how it always held a double meaning to me. Something reminiscent of Romeo and Juliette at the mention of the female dying. Every orgasm I’ve ever experienced at the perfect hands of Sebastian Cox comes flooding back into my brain. I’m a shell of myself, witnessing this moment of him professing his love for me. The limited time we spent together versus all the time we had to endure apart never dulling the depth of our connection.

His eyes are red, and his cheeks are wet with all the tears he’s been holding inside since we’ve reunited and probably since we parted in high school. He lets it all come out during the guitar solo, shouting at the top of his lungs the part where the lead singer Gerard Way just laments. Bash’s head rocks back and forth, his fingers going a hundred miles a minute as he pounds out the notes and when his voice hits the ultimate high note, releasing the largest climax of the song, I start bawling along with him.

As he finishes, silence sits between us. We’re both crying as we stare at each other. There always seems to be a song to illustrate exactly what we’re going through.

And right now, this is ours.

Sebastian:

I don’t know what to say to Alina. How do you apologize for being a heinous dickhead who accuses their former girlfriend of wanting to be assaulted by disgusting pricks behind shitty dive bars? Her poor face is wet with tears, shadowed by bruises and swollen from trauma. But she still looks like the most beautiful woman in the fucking world. And she’s in my bed, listening to me sing to her. Nothing touring ever brought me made me this deliriously happy. And it’s a big realization. Everything after Alina has just been a temporary pain reliever. I’ve needed her this entire time and was only ever searching for the peace that came with her presence. “Lina Girl,” I begin quietly as her eyes meet mine with fear. I know she’s thinking I’m going to yell at her again and that alone is a stab to the gut. But that’s my wrongdoing coming into play. I can’t allow this to continue anymore. “I owe you an apology.”

She furrows her brow and then instantly regrets it, the movement hurting her healing face. “I don’t understand,” she manages to get out as I set my Fender down in its stand amongst the others in my room. I approach her in my bed but don’t sit, feeling unworthy of her close proximity.

“I never asked you what happened. How you got involved with Luke.” She shifts uncomfortably under my gaze. I can tell I’ve hit the nail right on its head.

“Is that what you’re doing now?” Her tone is somewhat defensive. I don’t blame her. I nod my head.

“I fucked up, Alina. I allowed my anger to cloud my judgement, and you paid the price. If you’d like to talk about your situation without my accusations being involved, I’m here to listen.” I resist the urge to turn away and hang my head in shame. She needs me to be strong right now. For both of us. So, I hold my eye contact, doing my best to remain there as she glares at me. I know she’s judging whether or not I’m being sincere. Her eyes soften after a few moments as she releases a heavy sigh.

“I never meant to hurt you, Bash. Then or now,” she starts in a shaky voice. I nod my head, fully believing her every word, even though my heart is beginning to race. “I disappeared all those years ago after my brother shot himself and my parents sold the house off as quickly as they could, leaving that literal mess behind.”

“ What? ” I ask in a whisper, shock flooding my body. “You left because your brother took his life?” She nods her head in confirmation. “How did I not know this?” I’m stunned. She’s barely started the story and I’m already hating myself for all the fucked up things I threw her way and the assumptions that followed her departure all those years ago.

“They kept it quiet. It wasn’t something they ever really processed themselves either. And my mom got really sick after that. My dad understandably spiraled…” she trails off. I can tell her words are trying to justify something and my stomach sinks. I have a terrible feeling about what she’s going to say next. “I didn’t know what he was up to, and I guess I should’ve cared a little more. But I was so fucked up from losing my brother and being ripped away from you. And then my mom fucking died too. My dad never talked about anything with me, and it just festered until we grew apart and barely spoke at all.” She fidgets with her hands, looking away from me. I know the gut punch is coming. I want to reach out to comfort her, but I just fucking can’t. She deserves someone so much better than me right now. “I had just purchased my house when a car I didn’t know pulled up in the driveway and three men got out, one of them being Luke.”

I cough uncomfortably, crossing my arms. I’m doing my best not to fidget myself, but it’s no use. I’m so fucking nervous. She licks her swollen lip and stops talking, looking up at me hesitantly. My heart shatters at her distrust. Something I created between us. “It’s ok, Lina Girl. I’m listening. I promise.” She eventually nods and continues.

“I thought maybe they were confused, that they were there looking for the previous owners. But it became very apparent when I refused him entry to my home and shit became physical that he wasn’t there for someone else. He’d found his intended target. I just didn’t understand why. The two assholes with him forced me inside to talk. He sat me down between his giant lap dogs and informed me that my father had taken out several loans from him and had yet to pay them back. I thought it was a mistake again. There was no way it was my dad who had done this. I asked him why and he said my dad had a massive gambling addiction, betting on every sporting event he could. He was well known throughout the loan shark community, having made several enemies in the process. But Luke was special, because he had been offered a payment my father hadn’t given the others. And that payment was me .”

I can’t help it. I begin to dry heave. I cover my mouth as I run to the bathroom, spewing the entire contents of my stomach, which admittedly isn’t much, into the toilet. I feel absolutely horrified and sick . My guilt is burning a hole through my obliterated heart. I resist the urge to smash my face into the toilet, deserving to take on all of the pain Alina has had to endure alone all these years. Someone is screaming and it takes a second for me to realize that it’s me. I feel panicked and angry and lost. I have no fucking drugs or alcohol to turn to.

So, I grab the nearest thing to me.

My Gibson shatters as it hits the wall in front of me. I swing it at the plaster as hard as I can until there’s literally nothing left of it. I then pummel my fists into the wall instead. Alina jumps up from the bed and screams for me to stop, but I can’t. The paint is turning red from my bloody knuckles and the only other sound besides me raging is Alina crying desperately beside me. I’m glad she isn’t touching me because I’m having trouble registering anything other than intense rage.

But I do stop eventually, exhaustion replacing the fury.

Alina is splayed to my left, nakedly sobbing into the carpet, her head in her hands. I sit against the wall, breathing too fast and too hard, my eyes unfocused as I stare at nothing in particular.

We cry together, our fragile world completely broken.