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Stop
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"What are you doing in there?" Marco yelled, worried, at Craig's bedroom door. It was almost eleven and he'd been in his room, blaring angry rock music, since his return from work two hours earlier than he'd predicted. With the knowledge of Craig Marco had acquired over the years, he figured it was something girl-related. With Craig, the problem could usually be traced back to the fairer sex. It didn't take much for Marco to figure out that whatever problem was causing this angst-ridden spiral into room arrest probably arose from the fact that Craig never came home after that date with Ellie the previous night. "You'd better not be naked... I'm coming in!"
When Marco opened the door, he half-expected to find some tragic scenario - Craig passed out across the bed with a goblet of poisoned wine in his hand or surrounded by candles as he prepared to perform an ancient voodoo love charm, kneeling in front of a blown-up picture of Ellie's unsuspecting face. Instead, he was met with the too-familiar sight of destruction, as Craig had thrown all the clothes out of his still-packed suitcases and torn the comforter off his new bed. The boy sat, propped against the bed, cigarette protruding from his mouth and notepad in lap as he scribbled feverishly without looking up.
"Hey - Craig?" Marco asked, attempting to break into this bubble of self-pity.
"Yeah?" Craig responded, not breaking from his writing.
Marco shifted his weight uneasily. "Uhhh... what'cha doin'?"
This question caused Craig to fold his notebook shut calmly. He reached a pale arm over to the stereo, turning the volume down from 'commercial-jet-taking-off' to 'only-somewhat-loud', and dragged on the cigarette. Marco forced a cough disapprovingly. "The whole time I was in rehab, I tried to write a song for Ellie. Y'know, one that would let her know how I felt. Ideally, it would make her love me," Craig explained.
"Well?"
"Well, now my most favorite person in the world, Manny, went and fucked me over and it doesn't even matter." He laughed sardonically, changing his next words into an exaggerated version of his own singing voice. "Doesn't fucking matter..."
Marco stepped backwards, towards the door (and sanity, he added silently in his head.) "She's here."
"Ellie?!" Craig asked excitedly, clambering to his feet and causing the notebook to fall, without much regard, to the floor. Instantaneously, he smashed his cigarette into the ashtray. "Is she coming up?"
"No," Marco said slowly, a grimace clearly visible on his face. "Manny... and I told her to wait downstairs."
Craig kicked the side of his bed angrily, "Oh my God, hasn't she done enough for me today?"
"She said it's important. I'm not just going to make her leave."
Sinking back onto the bed with his face in his hands, Craig caved. "Fine... fine, send her in. She'd better have some apology for making me lose out on the best thing I'll ever have."
Thinking he couldn't respond to this without a scathingly sarcastic remark regarding Craig's love life, Marco disappeared out the door without a word. Moments later, Manny appeared in his place. She'd changed clothes, Craig noticed, into a modest and very un-Manny t-shirt and sweat pants. An unbecoming look of stress marked her pretty face.
"What?" Craig demanded immediately.
The girl crossed her arms as if it had suddenly become very cold and bit her lip nervously, "I just wanted to say that I'm very, very sorry for what happened this afternoon... I had no idea about you and Ellie and I would hate for you to think that I'd want to break you two up." She waited for a response, for something from the boy sitting, stone-faced, on the bed, but nothing happened. Determined, she continued: "I guess it's just something about you, Craig, I mean - I think I can't just turn off my feelings for you. I think that no matter who I'm with, a little part of me is always going to love you and it's going to hurt but I really just want you to be happy." More silence. The pain on her face grew more apparent as she thrust her right hand into the deep pockets of her sweat pants. "So I got you this."
Craig could smell the contents of the little plastic bag before it even emerged from Manny's pocket. It had been over six months since the career-breaking show he was supposed to play with Taking Back Sunday had transpired and, accordingly, just as long since he had a hit of cocaine. But his body had not forgotten the way it felt - the explosion of all his senses and the comfort he received, knowing that his pain could be dulled anytime he reached out to the Impartial White Lady.
Rehab had taught him that he didn't need the drugs - that his life was perfectly enjoyable before coke had thrust itself into his life by way of Vancouver. He had fun clowning around with Spinner and making music with Marco and Jimmy, he could talk literature with Ellie or play Monopoly with Angie and have a good time whenever he so chose. But the bag in Manny's open hand was screaming in Craig's ear that he could be having a great time. Even now, when it seemed like, without Ellie, his life could just end right here and now and he would welcome it with open arms.
"I'm not going to stick around for this," Manny warned, once he'd taken the baggie out of her hand. "I just," as she paused, Craig noticed there were clearly tears visible in her eyes, "I really want you to be happy. That's all."
More grateful than he could even believe, Craig stood, reaching his arms to embrace her, but she backed away.
"Just don't, okay? I've still got Damien and he loves me and you..." she stopped, a sob caught in her throat. "Just do what you want, alright? Maybe it'll be the confidence boost you need to get her back." With a sad shrug, Manny turned and walked out of the door, wondering if she'd made the biggest mistake of her life.
When she had left, Craig darted to the door to make sure Marco wasn't coming up and then leaned, barricade-style against the heavy oak door. The bag of coke felt heavy in his hands as the last words Manny had spoke to him sparkled in his mind. "Maybe it'll be the confidence boost you need..." A nagging doubt he assumed might be his conscience whispered a few nothings in his ear, and, however quiet, he considered his options. Everyone would be so disappointed in him if he started using again - and only two days fresh from rehab? It would be nearly a record relapse.
Craig thought about everyone that had invested in his recovery - Joey and his money, Angie and her loneliness without a big brother to drive her around and loan her his favorite CDs, all the therapists and counselors he'd seen at the clinic who worked past their frustration with his mental condition to become proud of all the progress he'd made, his friends that he'd missed so much while he was in Calgary, and, above all, Ellie. Ellie, who had been so disillusioned when she discovered his drugs that she ignored bold-faced logic and pretended they weren't even his. What would they think if they knew he was up in this room with this baggie of the very thing that had set his calendar six months behind everyone else's (he kept needing to repeatedly be brought up to speed on such important events as Spinner's engagement to Darcy and the subsequent dissolution of said union only two weeks later, the tragic death of JT Yorke who he sort-of knew as the kid who dated Manny once or twice, and Jimmy's joyous departure to the Rhode Island School of Design, finally supported by his parents). Did he really want to risk losing his place once again in the circle of friends on which he wanted so badly to rely once again?
But who says they need to know? asked the horned figure Craig imagined was perched on his shoulder. It's just this once. Just this one time and then Ellie comes back and there's no pain any more. Ever again.
It sounded pretty nice, Craig thought to himself as he poured some of the bag's contents onto a cd case that had been lying, discarded, on the bed. He knelt down in front of it, mouthing a silent prayer to whatever gods were listening that something would finally work out for him.
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The tearstains were still present on Ellie's cheeks when she heard the door buzzer. The last few hours had been a blur of thoughts and emotions - should she confront Craig about what Jesse had showed her - would it be better to just let him burn in the agony of knowing she hated him again?
When she'd received the phone call from Jesse that afternoon, she honestly had not believed him. She'd told him earlier that Craig was back in town and that she'd have to re-evaluate their relationship, told him that she "definitely" still had feelings for Craig. He'd seemed understanding, if not a little depressed and, something for which she was very grateful, didn't make any mention of what her housing situation would be if they were to break up. Jesse was understandably a little miffed, but to make up a story about Craig on a date with Manny only hours later? That seemed a little desperate, if not entirely farfetched. As far as she knew, Craig's thoughts were solely on her for once in her life, and she was going to revel in it.
But a few minutes after Jesse had hung up the phone in a huff, her phone vibrated to life in her pocket to say there was a message in her inbox. And a fear she hadn't even considered manifested itself right in front of her eyes. Jesse had sent a picture, one of low-quality and out-of-focus that clearly showed Craig and Manny engaged in a polite, tender kiss over some arbitrary meal at some arbitrary restaurant. "What else is new?" read the affixed text message.
Jesse had come home directly after the meal to comfort her; to wrap his arms around her and say he'd never do something that stupid ("...again," she'd added, dejectedly and aloud.) He'd said Craig saw him take the picture and he'd know immediately that he'd fucked up a good thing and that he probably wouldn't be bothering her anymore. "Not unless he wants to answer to me," Jesse said in a macho tone that Ellie couldn't help but note was a little uncharacteristic. She wasn't used to men fighting over her, and the thought of needing someone to defend her honor seemed straight out of the Dark Ages.
But despite everything, she felt almost grateful for this proof that Craig could not last a few hours without cheating on her. It had to be better to feel this heartache now than to allow herself to become even more emotionally invested in the love that had festered within her for years than she had previously been. She'd stay with Jesse for now; cute, reliable Jesse, who wouldn't challenge her as much in ten years as Craig had in a single night. And that had to be a good thing, she concluded, rising to answer the door, expecting Jesse home from the investigation he was conducting in some area clubs involving minors and alcohol.
"Back so soon?" she asked tiredly, as she swung open the door and found herself face to face with Craig. "Oh, my, god," she breathed angrily, rage rising in her steady voice, "Get out of here."
"Wait!" he cried, placing his hands over hers, "Wait, please, Ellie, you just have to listen to me! None of it was my fault! It was all Manny - she came onto me in the restaurant!"
With a little effort, Ellie pulled her arms free, "Just get out of here, Craig," she said slowly, running her hands through her hair in exasperation.
"No! No, no, no, no! Not until you listen to me!" He shrieked, throwing his arms around her, partially in an embrace, but mostly to physically keep her from straying. As she fought against his hold, he continued: "I would never cheat on you, Elle... Jesse is just a tool! He's a fucking tool and he caught me at a bad time and I could never, ever love someone as much as I love you... You know that, don't you, Elle?"
"Let go of me!" Ellie yelled, attempting to squirm free. "Let go!"
It was at this moment that the door, which had been slammed shut during their struggle, re-opened itself slowly, revealing the confused visage of Jesse, returning from his assignment. For a moment, he stood, blinking at the chaos that had erupted in his apartment, before leaping into action. Within a few seconds, he had Craig on his back, pinned, and still yelling for Ellie to listen to his story. Homocidally angry and even a little perplexed, he stared into Craig's face, and as Craig's dialated pupils made contact with his own, he figured it out. "Are you fucking high, Craig?"
Behind them, a sob escaped Ellie's mouth. "How could you do this to me? ... Again! Is there ever going to be a point in your self-involved little universe when you realize that maybe - just maybe - you've hurt Ellie Nash enough this time?"
Feeling the pressure of Jesse's weight, Craig finally ceased to struggle and lay flat on the hall floor. "I would never want to hurt you, Elle," he said sadly.
A cruel laugh of disbelief hiccuped out of her mouth, despite tears. "Ohhh, and it's not like going on a date with your ex-girlfriend mere hours after you claimed to love me and then showing up at my house coked out of your mind would have hurt me or anything..." she spat, sarcasm dripping from her voice.
"It's time for you to leave," Jesse said parentally, bending his knees to stand up. He walked over and put a protective arm around Ellie's shoulders as the girl pressed her face into his shirtfront to continue crying. He opened the door. "Go."
Understanding that he had been beaten, Craig trudged toward the open door complacently, waiting until it had been closed in his face to let the scream that had been rushing up his throat since the sight of her face after the door had opened had registered in his mind release itself through his lips.
His hands were shaking as he pulled out his cell phone to dial Manny's number. And by the time she had told him where she'd gotten the drugs, he could barely control them enough to place it back in his pocket. He began his walk down the hall, screaming a few more times for good measure, and ultimately came to the conclusion that if he couldn't have Ellie, he at least deserved the only other comfort he'd found could soothe the dull, aching pain in his soul.
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