*Nope, not yet…*
"Speak to me of heroin and speed, of genocide and suicide, of syphilis and greed. Speak to me the language of love, the language of violence, the language of the heart. This isn't the first time I've asked for money or love. Heaven and earth don't ever mean enough. Speak to me of heroin and speed, just give me something I can believe…" -P.J. Harvey-
Chapter 4:
I got back on stage that night and wanted to forget everything that had happened with April, the fight, the damned song, everything she said… Through all our music, I kept hearing her voice over and over again; kept hearing her say 'I love you' and hating herself for doing it, for saying it, for loving me. I couldn't shake how angry her voice was, how scared…
I had to get it out of my head. So I got fucked up and I fucked some random groupie who was hanging around after hours. Twice before we even left the bar. That's how it always happened though. After the bar would close up, they'd always let about a half dozen girls or so just hang around. We'd shoot up, smoke something, keep drinking, most of the time all of the above, then we'd fuck 'em. Then we'd all go home to our girlfriends; or rather the other guys would go home to their girlfriends. Usually I'd go home with one of the girls. A couple of times with two.
It was almost three AM when I stumbled back into the loft that night, or rather, morning…
He was greeted at the door by a very angry looking Mark. He slumped against the doorframe with a grin. "What's crawled up your ass and died tonight?"
Mark glared at him and walked back in the loft through the kitchen like area. "You have a visitor. Don't fuck it up."
Roger lurched forward, dragging his guitar after him. His head was still spinning from the drugs and he couldn't quite figure out who would be coming to see him here. "Well, who the hell is it and what do they want?" he growled, stopping to dig in the fridge for a beer before stumbling into the other room. He stopped in his tracks when he saw April sitting on the couch, fidgeting with her hands.
After leaning down to hug her and whisper something in her ear, Mark turned to glare at him some more. "Apparently she thinks you're worth something." He squeezed April's hand once, then walked over to Roger. "Don't fuck it up again," he muttered, then went down the hall to his bedroom.
Turning for a minute to watch him walk away, Roger dropped his guitar from his back onto the floor before moving any closer to April. Seeing her again so soon made him feel even more crappy about what he'd been up to. "H-hi," he mumbled, sitting on the dinky couch beside her. His hands started getting clammy and he rubbed them against his pants nervously. "I, umm, I wasn't expecting to see you here…"
April looked up at him for a minute then back into her lap. "Mark caught Maureen with some guy and some girl from our dorm again… I didn't want him to have to come back alone." She looked over at the clock on the wall. "I didn't think you'd be gone this long," she whispered. Standing slowly, she kept looking away. "I guess I should probably go now that you're back."
He reached out and grabbed her wrist with his sweaty hand. "Don't," he cleared his throat, "don't go."
She looked back at him quickly with wide eyes. "Are you trashed?" She pulled her hand away. "I'm not gonna talk to you while you're trashed."
Groaning, he started pulling at his hair. "Look, I'm sorry! If I had known you were gonna be here, I wouldn't have, ok?" He pulled his legs up under him. "Please don't go… We should talk… I'm crashing, I need someone here."
April sighed and pulled a chair away from the table, slumping down into it. "Talk," she muttered, looking up at him just a little bit.
"Did you mean it?" he questioned, his voice quiet and shaky.
She stared down at her fingers as she nodded. "Do you think I would just say that for the hell of it? I don't go confessing shit like that to every asshole I meet on the street," she commented, smirking at him.
He smiled at her slightly. "I deserve that…" Reaching out, he grabbed her hand and held it in his. "I've never been good at this. The longest time I was with a girl was like three weeks without fucking it up… And that was you!" He looked up at her, reaching out to touch her cheek. "I'm not gonna fuck it up again, if you want to try. Please tell me you want to try…"
She looked up past him, tears on her cheeks. "I can't… I don't…" She nodded, looking up at the ceiling as she exhaled. "I do," she whispered, still not looking at him.
He kept smiling when she said that. It took him a moment to notice she was crying, and he made a move to wipe off her cheeks for her. "I know you probably don't want to stay here… But it's gotta be better than going back and trying not to listen to Maureen fucking people," he offered with a grin.
She laughed a little at that. She let him pull her onto the couch without protest, then curled up beside him, resting her head on his shoulder.
He buried his head in her hair. "You smell good," he whispered, holding onto her. Leaning in, he kissed her ear lightly and added, "I think… I love you too…"
1 It all made perfect sense…
"Speak to me of heroin and speed, of genocide and suicide, of syphilis and greed. Speak to me the language of love, the language of violence, the language of the heart. This isn't the first time I've asked for money or love. Heaven and earth don't ever mean enough. Speak to me of heroin and speed, just give me something I can believe…" -P.J. Harvey-
Chapter 4:
I got back on stage that night and wanted to forget everything that had happened with April, the fight, the damned song, everything she said… Through all our music, I kept hearing her voice over and over again; kept hearing her say 'I love you' and hating herself for doing it, for saying it, for loving me. I couldn't shake how angry her voice was, how scared…
I had to get it out of my head. So I got fucked up and I fucked some random groupie who was hanging around after hours. Twice before we even left the bar. That's how it always happened though. After the bar would close up, they'd always let about a half dozen girls or so just hang around. We'd shoot up, smoke something, keep drinking, most of the time all of the above, then we'd fuck 'em. Then we'd all go home to our girlfriends; or rather the other guys would go home to their girlfriends. Usually I'd go home with one of the girls. A couple of times with two.
It was almost three AM when I stumbled back into the loft that night, or rather, morning…
He was greeted at the door by a very angry looking Mark. He slumped against the doorframe with a grin. "What's crawled up your ass and died tonight?"
Mark glared at him and walked back in the loft through the kitchen like area. "You have a visitor. Don't fuck it up."
Roger lurched forward, dragging his guitar after him. His head was still spinning from the drugs and he couldn't quite figure out who would be coming to see him here. "Well, who the hell is it and what do they want?" he growled, stopping to dig in the fridge for a beer before stumbling into the other room. He stopped in his tracks when he saw April sitting on the couch, fidgeting with her hands.
After leaning down to hug her and whisper something in her ear, Mark turned to glare at him some more. "Apparently she thinks you're worth something." He squeezed April's hand once, then walked over to Roger. "Don't fuck it up again," he muttered, then went down the hall to his bedroom.
Turning for a minute to watch him walk away, Roger dropped his guitar from his back onto the floor before moving any closer to April. Seeing her again so soon made him feel even more crappy about what he'd been up to. "H-hi," he mumbled, sitting on the dinky couch beside her. His hands started getting clammy and he rubbed them against his pants nervously. "I, umm, I wasn't expecting to see you here…"
April looked up at him for a minute then back into her lap. "Mark caught Maureen with some guy and some girl from our dorm again… I didn't want him to have to come back alone." She looked over at the clock on the wall. "I didn't think you'd be gone this long," she whispered. Standing slowly, she kept looking away. "I guess I should probably go now that you're back."
He reached out and grabbed her wrist with his sweaty hand. "Don't," he cleared his throat, "don't go."
She looked back at him quickly with wide eyes. "Are you trashed?" She pulled her hand away. "I'm not gonna talk to you while you're trashed."
Groaning, he started pulling at his hair. "Look, I'm sorry! If I had known you were gonna be here, I wouldn't have, ok?" He pulled his legs up under him. "Please don't go… We should talk… I'm crashing, I need someone here."
April sighed and pulled a chair away from the table, slumping down into it. "Talk," she muttered, looking up at him just a little bit.
"Did you mean it?" he questioned, his voice quiet and shaky.
She stared down at her fingers as she nodded. "Do you think I would just say that for the hell of it? I don't go confessing shit like that to every asshole I meet on the street," she commented, smirking at him.
He smiled at her slightly. "I deserve that…" Reaching out, he grabbed her hand and held it in his. "I've never been good at this. The longest time I was with a girl was like three weeks without fucking it up… And that was you!" He looked up at her, reaching out to touch her cheek. "I'm not gonna fuck it up again, if you want to try. Please tell me you want to try…"
She looked up past him, tears on her cheeks. "I can't… I don't…" She nodded, looking up at the ceiling as she exhaled. "I do," she whispered, still not looking at him.
He kept smiling when she said that. It took him a moment to notice she was crying, and he made a move to wipe off her cheeks for her. "I know you probably don't want to stay here… But it's gotta be better than going back and trying not to listen to Maureen fucking people," he offered with a grin.
She laughed a little at that. She let him pull her onto the couch without protest, then curled up beside him, resting her head on his shoulder.
He buried his head in her hair. "You smell good," he whispered, holding onto her. Leaning in, he kissed her ear lightly and added, "I think… I love you too…"
1 It all made perfect sense…