|| Love to Hate Me ||

{Thirty}

"I wish I was like you
Easily amused
Find my nest of salt
Everything's my fault
I take all the blame
Aqua seafoam shame
Sunburn, freezer burn
Choking on the ashes of her enemy."
-All Apologies, Nirvana
__________

Arriving in Houston had been strange, there was a shift in energy. Although Harlan didn't care much for Robbie, he had to admit he was a little guilty for getting him kicked out. It wasn't Robbie's fault Liana was a manipulative cunt.

The plan had been for Robbie to play one last show in Houston before the replacement stepped in. It was going to be a long couple of days; whoever Liana's new drummer was going to be, was going to have to learn the songs that night and the following day.

Harlan wished Liana would've just kept Robbie around—too much work was about to go into something that it didn't have to. Less than a month remained now; it seemed pointless to replace Robbie in this stage of the tour.

Harlan knocked on the door, feeling the effects of his daily binge drinking. He had managed to cut back during the day, but by god was it hard.

Robbie opened the door; his face fell when seeing that it was Harlan standing on the other side. "Come here to gloat?" Robbie smirked mockingly.

"No." Harlan shook his head, his lips pursing slightly. "I uh, I just came here to say goodbye. I'd be lying if I said it's been great, but..." he sighed. "I didn't mean for this to happen. I'd much rather be leaving right now than to see you leave. I figured she would've done it by now, but- I guess she's dumber than she looks."

"Yep. I guess that's what happens when you're in love though, you do stupid shit."

Harlan's eyes narrowed—this corner of his lips turning into a snide grin. "That's what she wants you to think. She doesn't love me. She's got everybody fooled... but not me."

"You're a fucking idiot. You're a piece of shit, you know that."

"Why, thank you." Harlan snorted, rocking back on his heels with a mocking smile.

"I mean it. What is it with you, man- do you really just not like being happy? You know how fucking lucky you are, to have someone like her believe in you? I warned her about you, I told her you were gonna do this. But you're right, she's dumber than she looks. You know why, because she fucking loves you."

Harlan's chuckles subsided—his smile faded as he looked at Robbie. "Why does everyone think she loves me so goddamn much? She was just tryin' to get me to sign, she manipulated-"

"God, you're such a prick. That night she called your ass out for being a fucking drunk, made you sit out... I tried to get her to kick you out. She wouldn't do it because her label was going to offer you to sign. She wanted you to have the opportunity, nothing was set in stone. It was a damn verbal agreement. You and I both know those agreements don't mean shit in this industry. Nothing was in it for her, nothing... except you. Just the chance to share a stage with your dumbass."

Harlan stood like stone—his heart felt as though it had fallen into the pit of his stomach. He swallowed hard, "Nothin' was in it for her? How are you so sure 'bout that?"

"Because, you fucking jackass, you got dropped! And since you agreed to play for her, she thought you were trying to pave your own way. She thought that if you signed with UpFront, you'd have another chance to make music again. She thought that's what you wanted. Let's be real, why else are you playing for her? If you want out of the spotlight so damn bad, why aren't you playin' for somebody else? Somebody no one knows or cares about?" Robbie spoke winded; laying into Harlan at full force—saying all the things he had wanted to say.

Harlan wasn't sure why he chose to play for Liana. His manager called and told him she requested him and without a second thought, he agreed. He had heard of her—saw her face on a billboard a time or two around the city.

To this day, he had no idea why he agreed—why he obliged without a debate. She was a good singer, he had heard she wrote all of her own songs... but that still didn't answer the question as to why he decided to play for her.

"She wants what's best for you. That's why she kicked me out instead of you, she still wants you to have the opportunity incase you change your mind." Robbie spat, stepping away from the doorframe.

He was done with this conversation. It had been weeks and Harlan was just beginning to register what Liana's intentions were—they were good intentions. There was nothing manipulative about her actions.

"Wait- wait..." Harlan placed his hand on the door, stopping Robbie from closing it. "So... Lee loves me. She... she loves me?"

"Yes, you idiot. She fucking loves you." Robbie scoffed, pushing the door closed.

Harlan stood perplexed. It was hard to accept that someone so perfect could ever truly love him. Why hadn't she said anything? She had only tried to discuss it once, and it had been when the revelation was still fresh on his mind—when he was still angry.

Harlan knelt down, clutching his chest. He had heartburn from the excessive amount of liquor he had been drinking, but also... guilt. He had created a monster—a beautiful monster. Harlan had taught her his way of life; that sometimes, the world didn't need an explanation. Harlan had been her world—the world that didn't need an explanation. She had let him believe what he wanted to believe.

Because fuck him, that's why.

Harlan raised with a groan, bracing his back against the wall. He looked down the hall toward Liana's room. He had to talk to her—he needed her to clear up this mess. If only he would've saw things her way—if only he would've given her the benefit of the doubt.

"Shoulda, woulda, coulda..." Harlan mumbled, trailing along the wall. He moved drunkenly down the hall, nearly dancing as he placed one foot directly in front of the other. He stopped, bouncing the back of his head against the wall as he stared across the way to Liana's door.

He couldn't talk to her like this. He couldn't stand the thought of rejection because of his own carelessness. He had done so much wrong—he had broken his own word. He was drinking again... and the women.

Harlan bit down on his bottom lip, pounding the wall behind him with his fist. He fucked up—in more ways than one, he had fucked up.