OK, we're back down to PG-13. Alas, all is not well for Gordie and Chris. .
.
Thanks to Charligirl for beta-ing, and thanks to all my wonderful
reviewers! I love you guys! Review MORE! MORE MORE MORE MORE. . .
Chapter 8 Songfic to Bright Lights by Matchbox 20
He got out of town on the railway, New York bound
Took all except my name
Another alien on Broadway
Well, some things in this world you just can't change
Some things you can't see until it gets too late
Gordie's house was eerily silent the next morning. It was a Saturday, and normally his parents were up early, buzzing around the kitchen. Light streamed through the windows in the hallway as he stumbled down the stairs and saw a blindingly white sheet of paper on the table.
Gordie- Your dad and I are out with the Michaelson's. We'll be back around three- fix yourself lunch. Don't do anything stupid, and don't leave the house. Don't let anyone you don't know in. Chris left this in the mailbox for you. Love,
Mom
Great. That's all I need, is to be alone now. He picked up the envelope Chris had left him gingerly, half expecting some kind of bomb. There was a handwritten note inside on a piece of lined paper that fell out of the envelope when Gordie picked it up.
Dear Gordie- I'm leaving today. I've got a train ticket to New York- I'll be taking college courses there. I couldn't leave without saying goodbye to you, but seeing you would be too hard. I promise that it's easier this way. We really don't belong together. Last night proved that. I'm not sticking around to drag you down. I just want you to know that I didn't mean anything I said last night. Your stories are about the best thing that anyone in this world's got. Keep writing, I know I'll see your name someday. I don't hate you, and I'm sorry that it was so hard to tell you I love you.
-Chris
Baby, baby, baby when all your love is gone
Who will save me from all I'm up against out in this world
And maybe, maybe, maybe
You'll find something that's enough to keep you
But if the bright lights don't receive you
You should turn yourself around and come on home
Oh God, Gordie thought to himself, covering his mouth with his hand. He's gone. He stood there numbly for a few minutes, too shocked to think anything. Nothing was registering- Chris wasn't gone. He couldn't be gone. He just couldn't.
"Mrs. Chambers," Gordie said into the phone two minutes later, voice shaking, "where is your son?"
"Which one?"
"My best friend!" Gordie cried, his voce cracking, wishing that for once Mrs. Chambers weren't so thick sometimes. "Who else would I be talking about?" His eyes were stinging, and it was all he could do not to scream into her ear.
"Chris went to New York this morning," Mrs. Chambers replied calmly. "He'll be staying with a relative there."
"And you let him go?" Now Gordie was screaming, shocked out of his mind. "How could you have let him go?!"
"Chris asked that I don't tell you anything more," Mrs. Chambers said coldly. The next thing he heard was the buzzing of a dial tone in his ear.
The tears had come now. Warm and hot, they blinded him for a moment, streaming down his cheeks, but he barely noticed as he wiped them away, punching another phone number into the buttons. Justi answered on the first ring.
"Hello?"
"Justi, he's gone," Gordie managed to choke out.
"Who's gone? Gordie, is this you?"
"Chris. . . . he's. . . he's gone to New York." Even speaking was an effort, and Gordie's voice rose with every word.
"What?"
Gordie told her everything in broken sentences, starting with their fight last night and ending with the letter this morning. "Justi. . . my fault. . . I. . . how could I. . . "
"Don't move," Justi directed, sounding a lot calmer than both of them felt. And for the second time in ten minutes, the dial tone was buzzing in his ear, laughing at him, mocking him, blaming him. . .
He had to sit. This was too much. He squeezed his eyes closed, bringing more tears to already wet cheeks, trying to wake himself up. This was a dream. It couldn't be real. How could it possibly be real? This was Chris, this was his Chris. This was the Chris he'd shared everything with since before they had been to school. He didn't know life without Chris.
"Gordie," Justi cried, shoving the door open and not bothering to close it. She raced to his side, taking the letter from him and reading it as he cried.
"Oh God," she said weakly. "He really is gone."
"He's gone and it's my fault," Gordie sobbed. "And it's not a dream."
I got a hole in me now
I got a scar I can talk about
He keeps a picture of me in his apartment in the city
But some things in this world
Man, they don't make sense
Some things you don't need until they leave you
And then the things that you miss. . .
Chris had never been on a train before. When it had taken off, jerky and unsure, he'd sat up straight with fear. But the fear was nothing compared to what he'd been feeling all morning.
Gordie. One word that caused enough pain and happiness to fill an ocean. The only person he'd ever felt love for. Leave it to him to screw it up this royally.
He looked out the window. This was the last he'd ever see of Castle Rock, he vowed to himself. Everyone he'd ever been close to, he'd hurt. It was going to be different in New York.
It sure was, he thought. No Gordie. It was hard to imagine seeing a drive-in movie without his best friend there. Hard to imaging doing homework for the college courses without Gordie there to remind him about the Pythagorean Theory.
Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry, he kept repeating to himself. You're doing the right thing. You just opened so many doors for Gordie- he can do whatever he wants now.
The girl next to him was looking at him oddly as he shut his eyes. The train had left early this morning- maybe he could get some sleep. But he knew, even as he thought it, that it would be no good: all his dreams would be filled with Gordie. Filled with his laugh, filled with his smile, filled with everything Chris was living for.
This might be a good thing for Gordie, but it was shaping up to be the biggest hell Chris had ever been through.
Baby, baby, baby when all your love is gone
Who will save me from all I'm up against out in this world
And maybe, maybe, maybe
You'll find something that's enough to keep you
But if the bright lights don't receive you
You should turn yourself around and come on home
"I can't believe this," Justi said, wringing her hands and patting Gordie awkwardly. "I can't believe he'd leave without telling anyone."
"He told his mom," Gordie corrected. He still had not been able to stop the tears, but by now he'd gotten his sobs under control. His shoulders shook whenever he remembered Chris's words that night by the river: "I've never needed to. I've never loved anyone."
Almost as if reading his mind, Justi spoke quietly. "He did love you, Gordie. I don't think he left because he was angry. This is Chris, remember?" She smiled ruefully. "One time he told me that he thought that you and him were supposed to be together. He told me that the feeling you gave him every time he saw you almost made him believe in God."
New tears sprung to Gordie's eyes as he remembered something Chris had told him once. "I don't believe in God. This world's too fucked up to have someone that perfect watching over it. Show me something totally pure and perfect, and I swear I'll become a believer right then.'
"I can't believe I had all that and never even saw it," Gordie said, his voice hitching. "I can't believe I had everything I wanted my whole damned life and never saw it in him." He hurled a vase off the table, relishing the sound it made when it broke- delicate glass against the strong tile of their floor. "What the fuck was I thinking?"
Justi looked at him sadly, and, her voice barely above a whisper, said, "You weren't."
Let that city take you in (come on home)
Let that city spit you out (come on home)
Let that city take you down, yeah
For God's sakes turn around now
"New York!" The conductor's sharp, loud voice cut into Chris's thoughts. He looked out the window- New York was as big as he'd imagined.
Mechanically, as if it was someone else controlling his actions, not him, he picked his one bag up and headed out of the train station. The address hand-written on his hand had smeared a little, but it was still readable. He flagged a taxi down and read off the directions.
"Takes a good two hours to get there, kid," the driver said, looking in the rearview mirror. Chris just nodded warily and fell back against the seat. He couldn't think of anything but Gordie. The train ride had been 37 hours long, plus stops, and his mind hadn't turned from Gordie for more than three minutes. Everything he saw had Gordie in it.
"Would you like a book to read?" the girl next to him had asked, halfway into the journey.
Gordie writes books, Chris had thought, and had had to decline and turn away so she wouldn't see the tears welling in his eyes.
Baby, baby, baby when all your love is gone
Who will save me from all I'm up against out in this world
Yeah well, maybe, maybe, maybe
You'll find something that's enough to keep you
But if the bright lights don't receive you
Well, turn yourself around and come on home.
For a week, Gordie had cried himself to sleep, but there was still that gaping hole in him. He cried for everything he'd ever lost. He thought of Denny, and had finally come up with a reason he hadn't cried half this much for Denny. When someone is dead, you know that they didn't choose to leave you. You know that there's no way they're ever coming back. But Chris. . . Chris had left him because he wanted to. Chris could come back, but something deep inside Gordie told him that he never would.
Justi had been there with him all week, but no one, not even her, was on the level of sadness Gordie was. It was no one else's fault Chris left, he told himself. It's only my own.
No one else had known Chris quite as long, or quite as well. No one else knew about his irrational fear of umbrellas. No one else knew that when he was tossing and turning in his sleep, all you had to do was take his hand and rub it for a while, and he'd calm down. No one else knew that he hated blueberries, but loved blueberry muffins. And no one could ever replace Chris.
Yeah, come on home
Baby, baby, baby, baby
Come on home
Yeah, come on home
Yeah, come on home
Yeah, come on home
Baby, baby, baby, baby
Come on home
End of Chapter 8
Lyrics to "Bright Lights" by Matchbox 20 copyrighted exclusively to Rob Thomas and Matchbox 20, 2003
Chapter 8 Songfic to Bright Lights by Matchbox 20
He got out of town on the railway, New York bound
Took all except my name
Another alien on Broadway
Well, some things in this world you just can't change
Some things you can't see until it gets too late
Gordie's house was eerily silent the next morning. It was a Saturday, and normally his parents were up early, buzzing around the kitchen. Light streamed through the windows in the hallway as he stumbled down the stairs and saw a blindingly white sheet of paper on the table.
Gordie- Your dad and I are out with the Michaelson's. We'll be back around three- fix yourself lunch. Don't do anything stupid, and don't leave the house. Don't let anyone you don't know in. Chris left this in the mailbox for you. Love,
Mom
Great. That's all I need, is to be alone now. He picked up the envelope Chris had left him gingerly, half expecting some kind of bomb. There was a handwritten note inside on a piece of lined paper that fell out of the envelope when Gordie picked it up.
Dear Gordie- I'm leaving today. I've got a train ticket to New York- I'll be taking college courses there. I couldn't leave without saying goodbye to you, but seeing you would be too hard. I promise that it's easier this way. We really don't belong together. Last night proved that. I'm not sticking around to drag you down. I just want you to know that I didn't mean anything I said last night. Your stories are about the best thing that anyone in this world's got. Keep writing, I know I'll see your name someday. I don't hate you, and I'm sorry that it was so hard to tell you I love you.
-Chris
Baby, baby, baby when all your love is gone
Who will save me from all I'm up against out in this world
And maybe, maybe, maybe
You'll find something that's enough to keep you
But if the bright lights don't receive you
You should turn yourself around and come on home
Oh God, Gordie thought to himself, covering his mouth with his hand. He's gone. He stood there numbly for a few minutes, too shocked to think anything. Nothing was registering- Chris wasn't gone. He couldn't be gone. He just couldn't.
"Mrs. Chambers," Gordie said into the phone two minutes later, voice shaking, "where is your son?"
"Which one?"
"My best friend!" Gordie cried, his voce cracking, wishing that for once Mrs. Chambers weren't so thick sometimes. "Who else would I be talking about?" His eyes were stinging, and it was all he could do not to scream into her ear.
"Chris went to New York this morning," Mrs. Chambers replied calmly. "He'll be staying with a relative there."
"And you let him go?" Now Gordie was screaming, shocked out of his mind. "How could you have let him go?!"
"Chris asked that I don't tell you anything more," Mrs. Chambers said coldly. The next thing he heard was the buzzing of a dial tone in his ear.
The tears had come now. Warm and hot, they blinded him for a moment, streaming down his cheeks, but he barely noticed as he wiped them away, punching another phone number into the buttons. Justi answered on the first ring.
"Hello?"
"Justi, he's gone," Gordie managed to choke out.
"Who's gone? Gordie, is this you?"
"Chris. . . . he's. . . he's gone to New York." Even speaking was an effort, and Gordie's voice rose with every word.
"What?"
Gordie told her everything in broken sentences, starting with their fight last night and ending with the letter this morning. "Justi. . . my fault. . . I. . . how could I. . . "
"Don't move," Justi directed, sounding a lot calmer than both of them felt. And for the second time in ten minutes, the dial tone was buzzing in his ear, laughing at him, mocking him, blaming him. . .
He had to sit. This was too much. He squeezed his eyes closed, bringing more tears to already wet cheeks, trying to wake himself up. This was a dream. It couldn't be real. How could it possibly be real? This was Chris, this was his Chris. This was the Chris he'd shared everything with since before they had been to school. He didn't know life without Chris.
"Gordie," Justi cried, shoving the door open and not bothering to close it. She raced to his side, taking the letter from him and reading it as he cried.
"Oh God," she said weakly. "He really is gone."
"He's gone and it's my fault," Gordie sobbed. "And it's not a dream."
I got a hole in me now
I got a scar I can talk about
He keeps a picture of me in his apartment in the city
But some things in this world
Man, they don't make sense
Some things you don't need until they leave you
And then the things that you miss. . .
Chris had never been on a train before. When it had taken off, jerky and unsure, he'd sat up straight with fear. But the fear was nothing compared to what he'd been feeling all morning.
Gordie. One word that caused enough pain and happiness to fill an ocean. The only person he'd ever felt love for. Leave it to him to screw it up this royally.
He looked out the window. This was the last he'd ever see of Castle Rock, he vowed to himself. Everyone he'd ever been close to, he'd hurt. It was going to be different in New York.
It sure was, he thought. No Gordie. It was hard to imagine seeing a drive-in movie without his best friend there. Hard to imaging doing homework for the college courses without Gordie there to remind him about the Pythagorean Theory.
Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry, he kept repeating to himself. You're doing the right thing. You just opened so many doors for Gordie- he can do whatever he wants now.
The girl next to him was looking at him oddly as he shut his eyes. The train had left early this morning- maybe he could get some sleep. But he knew, even as he thought it, that it would be no good: all his dreams would be filled with Gordie. Filled with his laugh, filled with his smile, filled with everything Chris was living for.
This might be a good thing for Gordie, but it was shaping up to be the biggest hell Chris had ever been through.
Baby, baby, baby when all your love is gone
Who will save me from all I'm up against out in this world
And maybe, maybe, maybe
You'll find something that's enough to keep you
But if the bright lights don't receive you
You should turn yourself around and come on home
"I can't believe this," Justi said, wringing her hands and patting Gordie awkwardly. "I can't believe he'd leave without telling anyone."
"He told his mom," Gordie corrected. He still had not been able to stop the tears, but by now he'd gotten his sobs under control. His shoulders shook whenever he remembered Chris's words that night by the river: "I've never needed to. I've never loved anyone."
Almost as if reading his mind, Justi spoke quietly. "He did love you, Gordie. I don't think he left because he was angry. This is Chris, remember?" She smiled ruefully. "One time he told me that he thought that you and him were supposed to be together. He told me that the feeling you gave him every time he saw you almost made him believe in God."
New tears sprung to Gordie's eyes as he remembered something Chris had told him once. "I don't believe in God. This world's too fucked up to have someone that perfect watching over it. Show me something totally pure and perfect, and I swear I'll become a believer right then.'
"I can't believe I had all that and never even saw it," Gordie said, his voice hitching. "I can't believe I had everything I wanted my whole damned life and never saw it in him." He hurled a vase off the table, relishing the sound it made when it broke- delicate glass against the strong tile of their floor. "What the fuck was I thinking?"
Justi looked at him sadly, and, her voice barely above a whisper, said, "You weren't."
Let that city take you in (come on home)
Let that city spit you out (come on home)
Let that city take you down, yeah
For God's sakes turn around now
"New York!" The conductor's sharp, loud voice cut into Chris's thoughts. He looked out the window- New York was as big as he'd imagined.
Mechanically, as if it was someone else controlling his actions, not him, he picked his one bag up and headed out of the train station. The address hand-written on his hand had smeared a little, but it was still readable. He flagged a taxi down and read off the directions.
"Takes a good two hours to get there, kid," the driver said, looking in the rearview mirror. Chris just nodded warily and fell back against the seat. He couldn't think of anything but Gordie. The train ride had been 37 hours long, plus stops, and his mind hadn't turned from Gordie for more than three minutes. Everything he saw had Gordie in it.
"Would you like a book to read?" the girl next to him had asked, halfway into the journey.
Gordie writes books, Chris had thought, and had had to decline and turn away so she wouldn't see the tears welling in his eyes.
Baby, baby, baby when all your love is gone
Who will save me from all I'm up against out in this world
Yeah well, maybe, maybe, maybe
You'll find something that's enough to keep you
But if the bright lights don't receive you
Well, turn yourself around and come on home.
For a week, Gordie had cried himself to sleep, but there was still that gaping hole in him. He cried for everything he'd ever lost. He thought of Denny, and had finally come up with a reason he hadn't cried half this much for Denny. When someone is dead, you know that they didn't choose to leave you. You know that there's no way they're ever coming back. But Chris. . . Chris had left him because he wanted to. Chris could come back, but something deep inside Gordie told him that he never would.
Justi had been there with him all week, but no one, not even her, was on the level of sadness Gordie was. It was no one else's fault Chris left, he told himself. It's only my own.
No one else had known Chris quite as long, or quite as well. No one else knew about his irrational fear of umbrellas. No one else knew that when he was tossing and turning in his sleep, all you had to do was take his hand and rub it for a while, and he'd calm down. No one else knew that he hated blueberries, but loved blueberry muffins. And no one could ever replace Chris.
Yeah, come on home
Baby, baby, baby, baby
Come on home
Yeah, come on home
Yeah, come on home
Yeah, come on home
Baby, baby, baby, baby
Come on home
End of Chapter 8
Lyrics to "Bright Lights" by Matchbox 20 copyrighted exclusively to Rob Thomas and Matchbox 20, 2003