September. (A Josh Ramsay Fic)

Twenty Three - This Means War

I was here once again. 3am, thoughts clouding my head of the previous day. I was shaking so much that I could feel my bed shuddering every so often. The sound of thunder and rain pouring down and into the gutter overpowered that of my shallow breathing. I was still reeling from my revelation to Matt earlier that day- I hadn't thought before I told him, and had more or less blurted it out. I was just trying to console myself into some form of sleep when I heard it once again- a dull thudding approaching my room. And I knew it was him. As soon as I heard my bedroom door creak open slowly, I sat up and glared at him. He was soaking wet from the rain, and he left droplets of water on my carpet. He grinned at me.

"You love me again now?" I asked, spite evident in my voice.

"What is that supposed to mean?" He accused, his face falling as he hopped into my room and walked towards me.

"You know exactly what it's supposed to mean. You fuck up yesterday, and crawl into my bed at night to make up for it. You fuck up even worse today, and try to do the same thing. Well I'm stopping it now. You can decide here and now what it's going to be. Either you stop being such a fucking jerk the rest of the time, or this is done. Whatever this even is."

He put his hands on my shoulders, hoping to console me.

"What's happened, September?" he asked, concern evident in his voice. It was a shame I didn't give a fuck.

"You happened, Josh. Everything you do hurts. You can't even decide whether or not you love me, and when I give you the option to not be a jerk and to actually act like you feel something for me, you push me away. Literally." I said, pulling back the comforter and gesturing to the scrapes on my now exposed knees.

"You just don't get it. That was my home- you may move every other damn day, but I grew up there. What was I supposed to do? Just sit there and watch them tear my house down?"

"Yes, Josh. You were. That wasn't your home any more. You didn't grow up in a pile of ash and burnt timber, you grew up in the house that used to stand there. They'll build you a new house, and you'll be able to make new memories there. It's not the end of the world. It's just a house."

"You just don't get it. You're insensitive, you only ever want me to focus on you. Give me one reason why you should be the most important thing in my life, and maybe I'll change my mind" he spat. The rain stopped, and as it did, so did the atmosphere in the room. I didn't think before I screamed the next few words.

"I'm fucking pregnant, Josh, and it's your baby."

"What the hell are you talking about?" he asked quietly, stumbling back a few steps. "Tell me this is a joke."

"Why would I joke about that?" I asked, sitting up straight and looking him in the eye.

"Because you have to be. You have to be joking... this isn't serious,"

"I'm serious Josh, I'm pregnant."

I tried to approach him, but he continued to back away. I was terrified. What was I supposed to do if Josh refused to believe this was real? Matt hadn't taken it this badly- he'd hugged me till the crying stopped. Although, I guess that must have been because it wasn't his baby. Josh actually had a responsibility to fulfill, but from the looks of things, it seemed he wasn't too keen to commit.

"But- but how?" he asked, gripping the handle of my bedroom door to support himself.

"Do you seriously not remember? What the fuck do you think happened on the night we burnt your house down?" I was getting impatient with him- how the hell did he think I got pregnant? It's not like a cold- you can't catch a baby from an old woman on a bus.

"You're making this up. You're not pregnant. You're just trying to fuck with me."

"Why do you never believe me?! I'm telling you the truth, Josh, and all you ever do is accuse me of being a fucking liar. Just get out of my house."

"Get out of your house?! I'm not going to leave when you've just told me we're having a baby!"

"Well you don't seem to believe me, so what's the point in you being here?"

"Earlier you wanted me to decide whether or not I love you, and now you're pushing me away? That's it, I'm going to end this. We're over. This is over. You're not having a baby." he spat, before he began to fumble with his phone, messily punching in a number before calling it.

"Who are you calling?" I asked, nervously approaching him. He didn't respond, and I began to get anxious. "Who are you calling!?"

He glared at me, looking me dead in the eye. "I'm calling the doctor. We'll go tomorrow, and this can be over. You're not having a baby, we can stop this."

I was confused for a brief moment, until it slowly dawned on me what he meant. He wanted me to abort our baby.

"Are you fucking kidding me?!" I shouted. At this point, I didn't give a fuck if my parents woke up. If I wasn't getting any sleep, then why the hell should they be able to. "You want me to kill my baby?!"

"It's my baby too, right?" he asked, his tone flat and serious. "That means, it's my decision too."

"I'm not getting rid of this baby. I could never do that. I can't believe you'd even suggest that Josh- I thought you were different." This had hurt me. Did he seriously expect me to murder my child purely because it was more convenient than bringing it up? 

"Well I don't fucking know, September! We're fifteen year old drug addicts who got kicked out of school for smoking heroin in a janitors closet, we can't have a kid! I can't do it, and you can't have a kid by yourself. And besides, what the fuck would your mom say if you told her I'd knocked you up? She'd castrate me with a blunt piece of broken glass."

It was true. My mother despised Josh. It was all true, every last word, but I didn't want to admit it. Didn't want to admit that I would crumble under the pressure of bringing up another human being without screwing it up irreparably. Josh hit the cancel call button and threw his phone on the ground. It smashed, and he kicked the broken debris into my bedroom wall, which didn't help the situation. 

"We could go to rehab. We can't quit on our own, but they could help us do it. We can do it, Josh. If we get off heroin, we can do right by this kid. I know we can."

When I said that, his expression quickly changed from one of distress to one of disgust. 

"There's no way I'm going to rehab." He stated adamantly, digging his heels into my carpet. "I'm not giving up heroin for some stupid baby."

"'Some stupid baby'?  That baby you're talking about is your child, Josh. Do you seriously love drugs more than your kid?" I was prepared to punch him in the face. At this moment, I hated him more than ever. He was choosing drugs over the possibility of having a family with the person he was supposed to love. 

"Not just drugs. Fucking everything. How many band members do you know who had kids at fifteen?! None. This is the time when I'm supposed to be putting all of my efforts into making the band huge, but it seems all I'm doing is getting myself tangled deeper and deeper into your web."

"Your band?! You care more about your band than any of this?! Well fuck you, Josh Ramsay. Fuck you. Get out of my house. I don't ever want to see you again. I hope you have fun with your life. I hope your band wins a million Grammys, and I hope it's worth throwing all of this away. Goodbye, you fucking asshole."

And with that, I walked past him, up the stairs, and out of my house, leaving him reeling in my bedroom.