Once Lost
1988
The man peeled his black, rain-soaked clothes from his skin and dropped them to the floor with every step towards the bathroom. Such disregard for the wet items flung around the room was not uncommon. He had always done it, even when he was a child still living in his parents trailer. Nobody in his house had ever cared about such trivial matters as an untidy room. Nobody cared whether he went to school or not. Nobody had ever cared about him at all. Brain might have in his own way, but he cared about Curt like a pet. A doll. Brian loved the mask. Nobody had loved him for who he really was. Not until...
He walked into the tiny bathroom and winced when he felt icy cold water beneath his feet. He switched on the florescent lights, half hoping the electricity would react with the water all over the floor and fry him right there...no such luck.
He realized the leak was coming from his sink and decided to deal with it later as he stepped into the shower and allowed the heavily chlorinated luke-warm water to run over him. He pretended that the salty water leaking from his eyes was just droplets of the water pouring from the shower head. He ran his fingers through his hair, scrubbing it with a palm full of shampoo. He proceeded to wash with almost vicious determination to be rid of the invisible dirt all over him. He scrubbed and scrubbed for hours until he realized his skin was bleeding.
An audible sob escaped his mouth as he slid down the wall and watched the crimson water swirl down the drain. He slapped his hand over his own mouth and pressed hard as the sobs continued, muffling them with his palm and hoping nobody would hear over the roar of the shower hitting the tiles and his own pounding heartbeat. He had to stop this. He had to get a grip. He couldn't let this take him over. Time to take control. Arthur was dead. There was nothing anybody could do about it so there was no point in dwelling on it.
But it wasn't fair.
Arthur died in his arms, onstage. Heart attack. Sudden, unexpected death. There was no god bye speech, no adoring glance as he fell to the floor. No romance what so ever.because death isn't romantic at all.
Fucking doctors. They said he and Arthur had five years, maybe more if Arthur continued taking his medication.but, like everything else in Curt's life, the plan got fucked.
But nobody could understand what it was like for Curt. Couldn't understand how horrific it was. You scream and wrap your arms tight around him. The crowd cheer, not knowing this isn't an act. Isn't a stunt like that shit Brian pulled. You're shouting, screaming, getting hysterical. Why isn't he breathing? Someone calls the paramedics and they come rushing in, one checks his pulse but you all know he's long gone. You don't allow them to touch you as you ride in the ambulance. They didn't bother putting the siren on. They had no reason to rush.
There's no blood, no wound. It's nobody's fault. There's nobody to blame. Mustn't cry. Mandy had tried to console him. Tried to talk with him. Curt had told her to fuck off. Stupid bitch hadn't talked to him in years and all of a sudden she thinks she's part of his life? He wasn't going to let himself need anyone ever again. Not after him. Not after Arthur.
He hadn't cried in front of anyone since that night, and he was proud. There were several close calls, especially when they had lowered Arthur into the ground three weeks ago, but he'd managed to shut the reaction off before it could manifest itself. He'd always hated funerals. They were so...insincere. When his sister died, a bunch of relatives came to the funeral and cried their eyes out, even though they hadn't even bothered to send us so much as a Christmas card. They had no right. All those people who came to Arthur's funeral, they had no right to talk about what a good person he was and how much they would miss him. They didn't even know him. One man had even bid farewell to 'Mr. Old Time Rock and Roll'. It had taken three men to stop Curt from kicking the shit out of the stupid fuck. They hadn't known him.
The fans were, as predicted, devastated. Curt had watched as they turned up in their thousands to the memorial, crying and leaning against one another for support as if they had known him. It was.strange to say the very least. At the time, he'd been torn between appreciation and anger. Now he was just numb.
He keeps twitching at the slightest sound, jumping up if the door opens.just in case. Just in case it was all a publicity stunt, like Brian's shooting. He tries to tell himself that maybe Arthur is out there somewhere in the world and they just forgot to tell him about it. Surely this was all just one big joke?
But life dragged on.
The hours crawled by and he found himself not wanting to do anything but hide in his room and get high. It was as good a way to grieve as any, he'd done it before. But every time he reached for the needles, he would hear Arthur's voice. See his smile. The smile he'd never see again.
The only thing that had kept Curt alive until now was out of respect for Arthur's memory. But he couldn't take this anymore! He hated this, being alone and unwanted. Being ignored until he would go away.
The man in the shower looked longingly at the razor blades kept by the sink...
But he turned away.
"For you, love. Only for you." He whispered.
End.
1988
The man peeled his black, rain-soaked clothes from his skin and dropped them to the floor with every step towards the bathroom. Such disregard for the wet items flung around the room was not uncommon. He had always done it, even when he was a child still living in his parents trailer. Nobody in his house had ever cared about such trivial matters as an untidy room. Nobody cared whether he went to school or not. Nobody had ever cared about him at all. Brain might have in his own way, but he cared about Curt like a pet. A doll. Brian loved the mask. Nobody had loved him for who he really was. Not until...
He walked into the tiny bathroom and winced when he felt icy cold water beneath his feet. He switched on the florescent lights, half hoping the electricity would react with the water all over the floor and fry him right there...no such luck.
He realized the leak was coming from his sink and decided to deal with it later as he stepped into the shower and allowed the heavily chlorinated luke-warm water to run over him. He pretended that the salty water leaking from his eyes was just droplets of the water pouring from the shower head. He ran his fingers through his hair, scrubbing it with a palm full of shampoo. He proceeded to wash with almost vicious determination to be rid of the invisible dirt all over him. He scrubbed and scrubbed for hours until he realized his skin was bleeding.
An audible sob escaped his mouth as he slid down the wall and watched the crimson water swirl down the drain. He slapped his hand over his own mouth and pressed hard as the sobs continued, muffling them with his palm and hoping nobody would hear over the roar of the shower hitting the tiles and his own pounding heartbeat. He had to stop this. He had to get a grip. He couldn't let this take him over. Time to take control. Arthur was dead. There was nothing anybody could do about it so there was no point in dwelling on it.
But it wasn't fair.
Arthur died in his arms, onstage. Heart attack. Sudden, unexpected death. There was no god bye speech, no adoring glance as he fell to the floor. No romance what so ever.because death isn't romantic at all.
Fucking doctors. They said he and Arthur had five years, maybe more if Arthur continued taking his medication.but, like everything else in Curt's life, the plan got fucked.
But nobody could understand what it was like for Curt. Couldn't understand how horrific it was. You scream and wrap your arms tight around him. The crowd cheer, not knowing this isn't an act. Isn't a stunt like that shit Brian pulled. You're shouting, screaming, getting hysterical. Why isn't he breathing? Someone calls the paramedics and they come rushing in, one checks his pulse but you all know he's long gone. You don't allow them to touch you as you ride in the ambulance. They didn't bother putting the siren on. They had no reason to rush.
There's no blood, no wound. It's nobody's fault. There's nobody to blame. Mustn't cry. Mandy had tried to console him. Tried to talk with him. Curt had told her to fuck off. Stupid bitch hadn't talked to him in years and all of a sudden she thinks she's part of his life? He wasn't going to let himself need anyone ever again. Not after him. Not after Arthur.
He hadn't cried in front of anyone since that night, and he was proud. There were several close calls, especially when they had lowered Arthur into the ground three weeks ago, but he'd managed to shut the reaction off before it could manifest itself. He'd always hated funerals. They were so...insincere. When his sister died, a bunch of relatives came to the funeral and cried their eyes out, even though they hadn't even bothered to send us so much as a Christmas card. They had no right. All those people who came to Arthur's funeral, they had no right to talk about what a good person he was and how much they would miss him. They didn't even know him. One man had even bid farewell to 'Mr. Old Time Rock and Roll'. It had taken three men to stop Curt from kicking the shit out of the stupid fuck. They hadn't known him.
The fans were, as predicted, devastated. Curt had watched as they turned up in their thousands to the memorial, crying and leaning against one another for support as if they had known him. It was.strange to say the very least. At the time, he'd been torn between appreciation and anger. Now he was just numb.
He keeps twitching at the slightest sound, jumping up if the door opens.just in case. Just in case it was all a publicity stunt, like Brian's shooting. He tries to tell himself that maybe Arthur is out there somewhere in the world and they just forgot to tell him about it. Surely this was all just one big joke?
But life dragged on.
The hours crawled by and he found himself not wanting to do anything but hide in his room and get high. It was as good a way to grieve as any, he'd done it before. But every time he reached for the needles, he would hear Arthur's voice. See his smile. The smile he'd never see again.
The only thing that had kept Curt alive until now was out of respect for Arthur's memory. But he couldn't take this anymore! He hated this, being alone and unwanted. Being ignored until he would go away.
The man in the shower looked longingly at the razor blades kept by the sink...
But he turned away.
"For you, love. Only for you." He whispered.
End.