Before You Go
So, before you go
Was there something I could've said
To make your heart beat better?
If only I'd have known you had a storm to weather
PRESENT DAY:
So I'm not sure where this story should begin. See stories are only a small glimpse at the entire picture that would be a character's, or in this case my, whole life. We could start when I was born. Or when I first am able to recall any sensible memories. Perhaps when the worst started happening, or maybe the best.
Though this is only partially my story. I'm sitting down to tell the story of us. We had a lot of stages of knowing each other, some less substantial and some the most substantial I can remember from my short life. I guess I'll just start from the beginning, even with the beginning being little more than a glance.
6 YEARS AGO:
I sit in the corner of East High's small music room, listening to music through my headphones instead of actually participating in any of the many things our teacher had assigned us to do this month. The teacher doesn't particularly seem to care, just usually working in his office on lesson plans for his other periods which he deemed much more worth his time. I like this class for that reason, just a moment first thing in the morning to get ready for everything else sure to come my way throughout the day.
The class gets a little lonely sometimes. None of the people I prefer to talk to are in this class. I mean there is Margo's current boyfriend Cameron who isn't terrible and his friends who I sometimes occupy my time with. Mostly I just people watch though.
There's other Elliot, who is loud and obnoxious but sometimes even I find myself laughing at the dumb shit coming out his mouth. Still not sure if I'm laughing with or at him.
There's Penny and Kady up in the corner. Kady isn't actually in the class. She just visits Penny in the morning so they can snog each other's faces and ,sometimes, it feels just to show off how happy they are.
Then there's Julia and Quentin. Julia walks around saying things I can't hear that often and Quentin laughs quietly. I don't know much about Quentin. Just that he is there and he's pretty attractive. I'm not sure I've said one word to him.
PRESENT DAY:
If you didn't catch who else this story is about, it's because this was more of a prequel. I just think about these days sometimes, when he was so close and I sat and did nothing about it. It's insane looking back. But I never could have known what was coming.
Rehab:
Maybe it was vodka, maybe it was blow
Maybe it was nothin', maybe it was both
Maybe it was the secrets I didn't wanna you to know
Maybe I wasn't leavin', maybe you made me go
ONE YEAR AGO:
Rehab. I have agreed to go to rehab and I can't stop thinking about it. There's nothing else to do. I never made it into college. I quit my job because I've been doing so many drugs and just slowly deteriorating my mental health to the point I can't imagine working right now. I moved in with other Elliott from highschool.. And within two days he had totalled my car. Instead of saving the money from my insurance I've slowly spent it on pills and rent and food till I would finally leave this place for my self appointed prison.
Even though living here is terrible for a number of reasons, I found some solace in that I could party as much as I wanted without many complaints from my roommates. I have given myself one month till I check in. That will give me time to say goodbye to who I need to, and use what little money I have left to my name to have a last hurrah.
Tonight Margo says she will be coming over and bringing someone she's been hanging with recently. Quentin. It's a strange name, I'm assuming it's the same boy who had been in my music class all those years ago and who had disappeared in the middle of said year. I'd heard rumors he'd moved back in with his other parent and had been gone ever since. I didn't ask anything else, I didn't even know the boy. Guess I would hang out with him for real tonight though. Not that any new people I met at this point meant much.
No one other than maybe Margo would still be around or care enough to notice I came back after nine months.
A knock on the door startles me out of my revelry. I stumble out of my now almost permanent chain smoking seat on the back porch to get it before Elliott could harass them. The xanax is finally kicking in. I can feel it in the lightness of my step and the almost childlike excitement to meet someone new.
Sure enough, it's Quentin Coldwater standing outside my door. Margo's arm is linked through his like she does me and she continues to pull him through my doorway. "Elliot, darling it feels like it's been forever!" I roll my eyes. "You left my house like four hours ago." "Still. I bring my friend. I think you should remember him from highschool maybe? It was a while ago, he just moved back."
I really look at Quentin. He doesn't look that different from highschool, just longer hair and a more adult face. Maybe a little more torn down by the world. That's just what graduating does to you though. "Quentin Coldwater right?" "Yeah, um Elliot?" I smile at him, he is kind of adorable. All shy looks as he tries to hide any sign of awkwardness, only seeming to highlight it. "That's me. Waugh not the other one." And Quentin laughs.
Present day:
I can't remember much else about that night. That's what xanax will do. Take away your anxiety, any memories. Therefore any painful things that may happen throughout the day disappear. But then mediocre things start to disappear and then anything good. You just feel blank and you can't even remember what you're running from anymore till you run out of the drug and your feelings come pouring back. The memories are usually gone for good, but you don't care too much as long as you are able to find your next fix.
Still here I don't know Quentin and I will never know what he thought about me that night as I'm too cowardly to ask. I try to forget this entire time in my life as much as possible, for the flashes that make it past the xanax never seem to be great.. It's part of our story though so it's what I choose to look back at when I do. Even if he's the only one able to remember much past his smile.
Again though I look back just to think just how close he was. Maybe I'm also writing about these stupid little memories cause it's hard to think of anytime before Quentin left as stupid. Why can't I just get to the meat of the story? I just miss him. This is harder than I thought it would be.