This Was My Life

If Only

Dave was in so much shock from the near head-splitting experience that he didn't notice the blood dripping from his nose until he tasted a familiar metallic sting in his mouth. Chris and Gar had walked in to quite a sight- Dave, his hand covered in blood, along with it smeared and dripping from his nose to the collar of what was once a clean, white shirt. "Late? Again?" "Sorry, dude." Dave let out an annoyed grunt and wiped his nose with the bottom of his shirt. "What happened to you, man?", slurred Chris. "I don't fucking know. Junior. He left. You two have a lot of work to do, come on." After mumbling another apology the guys left to finish their long overdue recording. Dave opened the bathroom door and stood in front the mirror for a long while before rinsing his face. Upon careful inspection he found that he could breathe through his nose fine and it didn't really hurt much anymore. At least there was that. Ugh, there was probably another shirt of his left behind in the studio, he could change into that and bleach the bloody one at the laundromat. So what was going on with Junior? His behavior was so unlike him- the stealing of the jacket, the chase that ensued, and the seeming want for a fight. He'd deal with him later. Right now he needed to get back to the others and try to make some progress. 

Junior ran all the way from the studio to his car. He needed to get home in case Dave decided to follow him.  It wasn't even his home. He was just staying in a shitty apartment with some guy he met when he first moved to LA. It was noon on a weekday, so he'd have the place to himself for a few hours. He dug for the key in his pocket and unlocked the driver's door. I need to get out of here, shit. It was a pretty short drive home, but the usual LA traffic made it much longer than it needed to be. After pulling into the parking lot, Junior sat in the car for a while, processing what had just happened. Why'd he try to start a fight? Why'd he do the whole thing in the first place? Because this was the only way I could get my point across to Dave. That was true. Dave wasn't the type to sit through some little "I have something I need to talk to you about in private" talk. He needed to be taunted into it. Of course, there were less strange and easier ways to do that. What also made it difficult was that Junior didn't really even know what he wanted to tell Dave. He felt it, but it wasn't something he could put into words. And even if he could articulate it, would Dave actually listen all the way through? No, he'd probably start mocking him the moment he'd say it. He'd call him a faggot, a fucking loser homo, he'd kick him out of the band. He'd torment him, and tell everyone about it. He'd make his life absolute hell and Junior would wish he'd either kept his mouth shut or never been born. But why did he feel like this towards someone that would do that to him? Because in his own, particular, unusual, selfish way, he'd reciprocate those feelings. He'd be the only one who'd understand and empathize. And this particular, unusual, selfishly loving demeanor made Dave someone who was hard to love if you couldn't see past it. Junior saw past it. He saw way past the conceited, drinking, drugging, new girl every night-fucking asshole. What Junior saw was the caring, understanding, affectionate, and very lost creature that carried the emotional traits of what he never had in his life. Maybe that's why Dave was so self-centered and egocentric, because he was the only one who had what he needed. He was the only person he could love because nobody else could. And Junior would help him realize that, so he'd stop beating himself up over it. Junior wouldn't judge him on his vices, because he had them too. Junior would get him over all his issues, and problems, because they'd be getting over it together. If only Dave would be more open. If only Dave would put aside his reservations. If only... and before Junior could finish that thought, his head hit the steering wheel.