"We're going down, and you can see it too. We're going down, and you know that we're doomed. My dear, we're slow dancing in a burning room." Slow Dancing in a Burning Room - John Mayer

Teach Me Tonight

Chapter 43

He is besides you when he finds out. The two of you are laughing on your bed, watching old cartoons and eating popcorn when Jason calls. "Shane." You barely hear his distraught voice through the phone. You look up at Shane, watching as the smile that graced his face fades to shock.

"What? Is he okay? What do you mean?" Shane starts sputtering out. "Jason!" he pushes you off him when you put a hand on his arm. He immediately stands up, pacing furiously as he tries to pick up all his clothing. He closes the phone abruptly, harshly and pushes things and clothes around carelessly and recklessly.

"Shane?" you ask softly, standing up. He looks at you but he hardly sees you. You feel disconnected from him for the first time in a long time. His eyes look distant and scared and out of it as he maneuvers around you, grabbing his jacket and putting it on. You try to stop him but he doesn't listen to you. "What's going on? Will you stop for a second?" you say, grabbing his arm with as much force as you can muster. He turns to you for a second, tears gathering in his eyes.

"It's Nate." He says and without another word, leaves you.

--

You go by yourself to the hospital. It's weird walking in there pregnant; everyone thinks you are about to explode but as you keep reminding everyone - you are not here for you or the baby. You are here for them, the Grey's. "Hello, child." You turn and see a black woman gesturing for you to follow her. It takes you a while but you eventually recognize her as Mabelle, the bodyguard woman who you met back when you had come to visit Shane after he tried to commit suicide. "They are over there." She continues to tell you, opening the door behind her.

Nodding, you follow her until you see Mr. and Mrs. Grey in the waiting area. Mrs. Grey is crying into Shane's father's chest while Jason nervously taps his foot. Shane is nowhere to be seen. You suddenly feel out of place - like you are disrupting a private family moment. So instead of continuing to follow Mabelle, you silently turn around and walk away.

It's easier to.

You do not know where you are even going or what you will do. You did not bring enough money to pay for a taxi home, so you are stuck here until you call Shane and find out where he is. "Get this man to room 23 stat!" a doctor calls out, almost running you over. You gasp and hold on to your stomach. As soon as you are safe to move, you walk to the cafeteria, thinking you could at least sit. However, when you get there, security is blocking the way. They snarl at you and shake their heads wordlessly. Something bubbles up inside you but you still turn around.

You feel scared and nervous. You do not know what's going on and you do not know how to fix it. "Mitchie!" you turn around when you hear the cafeteria door open. Your eyes widen when you see who is there. She runs to you, pulling you into a tight hug before breaking down in tears. "Thank you so much for coming. I'm so scared right now." She sobs into your shoulder. You awkwardly pat her back.

"Um, Alexis… what are you doing here?" you ask as nicely as you can. She backs away from you, sniffing and wiping her eyes. She gives you a confused look.

"My boyfriend is in the hospital. Where else would I be?" she says with a slight glare. Suddenly, she shakes it away, pulling you into a hug again. "Christ, when Dani texted me that Nate was hurt, I couldn't handle it. I know I…" she trails off, wiping her nose with her sleeve. She gives you a sad look. "I know I've a bitch to you and Shane to get back at Nate. I'm sorry for that. You didn't deserve that." Her dirty blonde hair falls in front of her face as she looks down ashamed. You sigh. They are just kids. No matter how much money they have or how talented or whatever, famous kids are still kids. Alexis might be vindictive and mean and weird and slutty and undeserving, but she is just a kid.

She has feelings too.

"Alexis, it's okay." You lie, putting a hand on her shoulder. She looks up, her eyes bright red. "Just… leave me and my family out of you and Nate. I know the two of you are that couple who are on and off forever. Just keep us out of it, okay?" you tell her, squeezing her shoulder before wrapping your arms around your upper body. She breathes in deeply and nods, a small smile on her face. Suddenly, she is touching your stomach, feeling as the baby kicks against her fingers.

"That's incredible." She gives you a small smile, not even realizing how important your baby is. You only have four months on her but it feels like an eternity. She is stuck in high school, while you have graduated to real life. Sighing, you nod at her, feeling uncomfortable as she massages your stomach. "Do you know the sex yet?" she asks, reiterating the same question everyone has.

"No." you shake your head, suddenly back away from her touch. "Hey, I have to go. Talk to you later, okay?" you say, not even waiting for her to finish talking. You need to get out of there. Randomly and quite suddenly, you feel suffocated. You feel like something is wrong. Obviously, there's Nate, but it's more than that. You feel like something is really wrong. As soon as you get far away from Alexis, you pull out your phone and call Shane.

He doesn't pick up.

--

You eventually go to a little restaurant across from the hospital. You have enough money on you to at least buy something to eat so that the baby doesn't kill you with hunger pains. You eat quickly, ignoring the stares. You wonder briefly if they are staring at you because you are sixteen and pregnant or because you are Mitchie Torres, soon to be Mitchie Grey. You don't care either way. You just want to eat in peace without everyone down your back.

And you want Shane.

You try him again but you get no new results. In the pit of your stomach, you have a sinking feeling. Something bad is going to happen - you can just feel it. You gasp slightly when the baby kicks softly before throwing all its weight to the left side of your body. You roll your eyes and push against the weight, sighing when it makes you go to the bathroom. You pay for your food and go to the restroom, still ignoring the stares. "Hey." Someone says, startling you. Turning around, you meet the bright, pretty blue eyes of a young girl. She squirms uncomfortably, a slight blush on her face.

She looks at you apologetically but the sadness in her eyes is unavoidable. "I know… I don't know him." She starts, stuttering slightly. "But I still care about him. I might not obsess over him or want to marry him, but I appreciate him. I just wanted to tell you… ask you if you could send my regards to Nate and that the fans want him to be okay." The girl says softly, wrapping her arms around herself. You bite your lip before nodding.

"He's going to be fine." You say automatically, not knowing if it's true or not. You still do not even really know what happened to Nate. You know just about the same as this girl probably knows - hardly anything. You know Nate just got some Starbucks, had his aviators on, and was on the phone. He was too busy with life, too rushed to care to look both ways as he crossed the street.

The car hit him before he knew what was happening, his coffee spilling onto the side of the road.

"Thank you." The girl finishes, wringing her hands before turning away.

"Hey!" you call after her, stopping her before you disappeared around the bend. She turns around surprised with wide curious and sad eyes. "Are you okay? I mean besides the whole Nate thing…" you ask, trailing off as she looks down with such anguish that it kills you. She looks ready to break. You move forward, putting a hand on her arm. She suddenly shakes you off, wiping the tears that fell.

"I'm f-fine." Her voice breaks as she shakes her head. "My parents are divorcing today. It sucks." She says, shrugging. She tries to smile at you but you can see through it. You squeeze her hand.

"My parents are divorcing too. It does suck. But… I don't know your parents, but mine? They hate each other. Maybe it's better for them to be apart." You tell her, thinking of the mess that is your family. The girl wipes her eyes again, shaking her head. It takes her a second to speak again but when she does, it breaks your heart.

"Just makes it hard to believe in true love. It's like you get married to get divorced with pre-nups and all these sick little games we play. It's like why even bother finding Mr. Right when he's just gonna break your heart." She looks at you with confused, angry eyes. You shake your head, feeling tears because of the hormones and her words.

"Hon…" you trail off, not knowing what to say.

"Love isn't real." She concludes, shaking her head. "Lust and manipulation and bullshit exist, but love? It's just something Hollywood created to make movies. The romantic comedy will never come true. Prince Charming will cheat on you. You will never be happy. Why pretend anymore? Why even think it's true?" she asks, looking at you with tears in her eyes. Suddenly, she shakes them away. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't be unloading on you like this. I'm just gonna leave." She flushes and turns around, but you stop her with a hand on her arm again.

"It exists. I promise. He might not be a prince or perfect or even beautiful, but you will find a guy who will treat you like a princess. I know I never believed in love, especially when all the boys around me only cared about one thing, but love exists. It has to, because if it doesn't, what are we trying to prove? What are we trying to succeed in? You're a pretty girl and I know one day, someone will look at you and think you are their Cinderella. Don't lose hope. I didn't." you tell her, before pulling her into a hug. Her fingers close around your sweater as she hugs you back.

"You're going to be a good mom." She whispers as she pulls away. "But you have Shane Grey and he is very easy to love." She says with a shake of her head. You interrupt her.

"Actually, no he's not. He's always on the road. He has a temper. I actually cannot even find him right now, but that doesn't mean that I give up on him. Love isn't about having things easy or happy all the time. Love is work and knowing that no matter what happens, you are okay. That even if he is mad at you, he will hold you if you are sad. Love is knowing that not everything will be a fairy tale, but that things will be bad at times. Love is knowing that the world doesn't spin around you, but for a second, you can make the other person believe it spins around them. Love is sacrifice. It isn't easy and that's why so many people get divorced - because they think their relationship is a piece of cake but then the unwanted pregnancy or the slutty sister or whatever get in the way and things get harder. Then, it is easier to run, to get divorced than to admit that you need to work at love." You break off from your rant, pushing your hair back.

"Um, I…" the girl stutters, not knowing what to say.

You sigh before turning away from her. "Just don't give up hope."

--

"Shane, wherever you are, please for the love of God pick up the damn phone!" you whisper angrily into his voicemail. Sighing, you close the cell phone before going out of the restroom. You quickly travel back to the hospital, wondering how Nate's parents arrived so quickly from LA. When you walk in, something makes you stop. You hate the smell of hospitals. You hate hospitals in general.

Instead of staying, you turn around and walk all the way back to your house. You almost go inside, but again something stops you. Suddenly you climb into your mother's car. You find yourself going towards New York, thinking maybe Shane's at the apartment. You are filled with nerves as you try not to get into a car accident in the busy streets of the city. When you get to the apartment, you quickly go inside. You look around, noticing nothing is out of place. The lights aren't even on. The only lights that are flittering in are from the windows. You sigh and take your keys out of the door, going to the bedroom. Again, the room is untouched.

Shane isn't here either.

You groan loudly, sitting on the bed angrily before opening your phone. You press the number two on your phone, speed dialing Shane. Again, it goes straight to voicemail. "This isn't fair to me, Shane. Seriously, you could at least tell me where you are. I'm not some random girl, man. I need to make sure you are fine and you're not even picking up the damn phone. What if I went in labor, you asshole? Ugh, call me, Shane. I'm worried." You sigh before throwing the phone down.

Where could he be?

You absentmindedly grab the laptop that is besides your bed. You wait until it loads before putting your username and password - torresmi and secretvalentine16, respectively - and logging in to get your mail. You try to sort between what is real and what is from people you do not even know, but eventually give up. You go back to Yahoo!'s main page, noticing the picture of Nate and the link to the news page. Without even thinking about it, you go to Oceanup, the teen gossip site. Just as you figured, everything is about Nate or Shane or Jason.

You scroll down until you see Shane. He is wearing the clothes you saw him in this morning, but you cannot recognize where he is. Shane Grey Returns Home? Where's the Add-on?, the title reads. The little blurb on the bottom has, Grey stops by to his NJ home this afternoon. Apparently no one has seen his pet, aka Mitchie Torres, anywhere. Trouble in paradise? You hardly even pay attention to the comments or the remarks, but focus on Shane. You have no idea where his New Jersey house even is. Once, you put in his city in your GPS to see how far you are from him and found out you only lived twenty five minutes away from him your whole life, but that doesn't mean you know where he lives.

You press on the comments, quickly searching them.

"The add-on! Haha, she really is. His own personal fuck buddy."

"Hey, dumbass, his 'own personal fuck buddy' is a rude way of saying a wife/girlfriend. Leave them alone. I think she's pretty."

"Well, I h8 her she's such a bitch. compltete stupid head. "

"Learn how to spell. And punctuate, stupid head."

"I wonder why he went to his NJ home. Doesn't he have an apartment with Mitchie in NY? Why didn't he go there?"

"I heard she ran into some girl at Red Robins in front of the hospital and like, broke down or something. D: I hope she's okay."

"I wonder where that NJ house is. It looks small."

"It's Wyckoff, right? Of course, it looks small. That's their home from before they were famous and fakes. I think they live on Peach Street, but I don't know."

After a while, you couldn't stand to look at any more comments from people that think they know what they are saying. Instead, you go to Google. Sighing, you type in, "Where do the Grey brothers live in New Jersey?" in the bar. Quickly looking at the search results, you get the information but hesitate.

Should you go find him?

He obviously wants to be alone. He obviously doesn't want you to find him. So, do you?

You sit up quickly when your phone starts to vibrate, opening it quickly. You lay back down disappointedly when it's just Caitlyn. "Have you heard anything? I'm so worried about him. Call me when you have the chance. How's Shane? I hope he's fine." The text reads. You sigh, throwing the phone back down. You really do not have the patience or capacity to text back. Throwing your weight on your feet, you lift yourself up off the bed, grabbing your cell and going back out. You sigh when you realized you left the door opened to your apartment. "It's not like you live in New York or anything, Mitchie." You say under your breath.

You go back to your car, exiting the building quickly while trying to decide what to do. If you go to NJ, you don't want to convey that it's a lack of trust. You just want to see him. You just need to see him. You are worried about him so much. You play around with your mother's GPS, wondering if you should go to his home. Taking one last look around you, you decide.

You need to make sure he's okay.

You turn up the music on the radio, tired of listening to the noise in your head. At the song that you interrupt, you feel your heart break. Why are our lives so hard? Why can't love just be easy? It would be so much better, so much quicker, but no. Love has to be hard. Love has to be difficult. Of course it does.

Can't seem to hold you like I want to so I can feel you in my arms. Nobody's gonna come and save you, we pulled too many false alarms.

The singer's voice makes you feeling lost and out of it. The stress of the day is coming hard down on you and you feel ready to break down crying. Sometimes, it feels like too much. Like the goal you want to get to is too far from you but you can see it. "Shane, come on." You whisper to the air, as tears start falling. You know it's stupid to think something has happened, but you cannot shake it off. You are honestly scared beyond belief that something terrible has occurred. You can feel in your heart. Something has happened. After a while, you are almost hyperventilating. Scared, you push the skip button on the radio harshly.

When you're dreaming with a broken heart, then waking up is the hardest part. You roll outta bed and down on your knees and for a moment you can hardly breathe.

Groaning loudly, you slam your hand on the radio, turning it off. "Fuck you, John Mayer." You curse with frustration, silence suddenly hitting your ears. You follow the GPS as obediently as you can, trying not to think of anything else. When you start getting into residential areas again, you look at the houses. The commenter was right; the houses were small. Maybe a couple bedrooms big. It makes you realize they worked very hard for everything and it just makes you sadder that they could lose it all. You reach your destination quickly, seeing big vans everywhere - all sporting some label or another. "Damn paparazzi." You mumble, sounding the horn harshly to go through.

You make sure to wipe your face before they could take pictures of you. When you get out of the car, you hear catcalls and other yells but you ignore them. You ring the doorbell nervously, wondering what the hell you will say to Shane. When he doesn't answer, you bite your lip and turn to the closest photographer. "Has he left?" you ask, yelling slightly for him to hear you.

"No, he's been there all day." He calls out to you. Sighing, you turn back to the door, wiggling the handle slightly. When it doesn't budge, you step away from it and go to the side of the house. The fence to the back yard is thankfully open and you quickly go the backdoor. You freeze when you see it is wide opened. You slowly go inside, wringing your hands.

"S-Shane." You stutter, fear going through your body. "Shane!" you yell anxiously when no one answers. You look around the unfamiliar house, noticing you are in the kitchen. You look at the staircase just off the hallway and dash for it, going as quickly as you can up the stairs. You have no idea where to go but you notice only one room with light streaming under the door. You breathe out slowly, putting your fingers up against it. You slowly turn the knob, happy when you find the door unlocked; however, as soon as the sight in front of you hits your eyes, your heart shatters into a million pieces. "Oh, Shane." You breathe out, falling against the door ledge.

Your eyes sweep around the room.

The cocaine is the most obvious thing - besides him of course - as it lays in either straight, untouched lines or messy ones on the table in front of him. There is a bottle of vodka, opened but not drunk. And then, then there is the razor sitting right next to the cocaine. When he hears your voice, he turns to you. He is sitting on the floor, his clothes messy and wrinkled. His eyes are bright pink, whether because he has been crying or because of the drugs, you do not know. He looks at you strangely, as if you aren't really there. "This is where I would get high when I was younger. I would cut myself and then do a line. I was miserable but it helped in my own twisted way." He says softly, his voice sounding off.

"Shane." You whisper, going inside. Your heart is beating so fast. You are so scared. Your eyes immediately go to his wrists, looking for blood. His long sleeves block your sight but you do not see any blood on them anyways. You go forward but he sends you another look; this time, it is more of a glare. "What's going on?" you breathe out.

His eyes narrow. "What's going on? My brother's in the fucking hospital. People are scared he might not walk again and then some are saying that he just has a concussion. What's going on! What's going on is everything could change! Everything could go down in flames and totally get destroyed." He starts yelling at you, getting up roughly. You gasp loudly when he grabs your upper arms, your eyes widening with fear. "What the fuck are you doing here, Mitchie? Huh? Attached at the hip much?" he scoffs, shaking you slightly. Tears rush to your eyes as you look at him afraid. You have no idea if he is high right now or sober.

He could do anything to you.

"I was worried about you." You choke out and his nostrils flare.

"You were worried? You were worried!" he screams at you, his fingers tightening around your upper arms. You hiss in pain as he comes as close to you as possible with your stomach. "My little brother's in the hospital, Mitchie!" he yells at you, trying to one up you. You try to push his hand away.

"And what about me, huh Shane!" you scream back. You try to push him off again. "Did you at any point think about me?"

"Stop it!" he snaps, pushing you against the wall. You wince as pain courses through your body as your back hits the wall harshly. "Stop making everything about you goddamn it. Don't you realize that they are important to me too? My heart is literally fucking broken because my father doesn't even love me. My mother doesn't care about anyone but herself. And now my little brother is hospitalized? Are you kidding me? God, I feel like I have no one!" he punches the wall, suddenly crying hysterically.

You look at him wordlessly, tears streaming down your face. "I'm pregnant, Shane." You remind him, your voice tight. You feel the pain in your lower back as you lift your hand to wipe your eyes. He looks at you again, as if he was seeing someone else. His eyes almost look through you, narrowing in confusion and then anguish. Suddenly, he is coming to you, but this time instead of grabbing you, it's to put his head on your breasts as he breaks down in tears. He starts sliding to the floor, bringing you down with him.

--

The next morning, you wake up on an unfamiliar bed with him sitting on the floor looking at you. After the initial fluttering of your eyes, you see that everything - the drugs, the alcohol and the razor - have been cleaned up. "Are you okay, Mitch?" he asks seriously as you squirm in bed. He immediately comes to you, helping you sit up even though you push his hands away. The two of you are silent as he takes his fingers off you, although he does graze your protruding stomach. "You shouldn't have come last night." He says after a while. You look up at him almost angrily but do not say anything. He flinches at your glare and looks away. "I was in a bad place. I didn't mean to hurt you or the baby, Mitchie." He promises, his hand sliding down to your leg to rub it.

You shake your head. "You promised me you would never do drugs again, Shane." You remind him curtly, and he flinches again.

"I know, Mitchie." He mumbles disappointedly. "I didn't mean to. I just got out of control. It was stupid and totally wrong, but I'm just so fucking scared." He admits, his throat tight. When he looks up at you, his doe-like eyes are sad and confused.

"Shane." You shake your head. "You promised. You pushed me up against a wall, Shane. Jesus Christ, I'm fucking pregnant and I know how much you love this kid. You could have hurt me, Shane or you could have it hurt the baby. Is that what you want? Huh? Did you achieve anything by doing coke last night?" you argue with him, disappointment shining through.

His eyes widen somewhat. "Mitchie, I never wanted to hurt you. God, it felt like I wasn't even in control of my body. Do you think I wanted to hurt you, honey? I love you, okay. I'm not perfect and I'm not exactly the best, I realize that, but I'm trying. That's what love is, right? I'm trying." He starts to cry again, except now that he's sober, it breaks your heart even more.

"We were over this Shane. We were over sadness and razors and drugs. We got to fluffy and sugary sweetness and happiness. We were over this." You tell him, crying too as he wraps his arms around his body.

"I'm so sorry, Mitchie. So very sorry. We'll get there again, okay? Maybe tomorrow. I just need to know my brother is okay and then I'll sprinkle you with everything. Love and happiness and movies and dinners. I'll be good again. Just let me see that Nate's okay." He hiccups as you shake your head.

"What if Nate isn't okay? Then what? Then we can never be happy? Wake up Shane. Bad things happen and they suck but we cannot let them take us down every fucking time. We have to be strong. I need you to be strong. I cannot have you getting high every time there's a bump in the road and then crying to me about it later. I need you to grow up and take charge. You're going to be a dad soon, Shane. If you cannot be mature about this…" you trail off, tears falling down your face. "Then we cannot continue this." You whisper.

XXX

Sandy (c)