A Hotter Touch, A Better F... Than Any Girl You'll Ever Meet

Chapter 9

Then I was finally allowed to give into unconsciousness, slipping away from the nightmare my life had become.

******

When I woke up again there was a drip in my arm. I was incredibly drowsy, and my head was pounding worse than it ever had during any hangover. Not to mention the raw pain in my throat and my still-burning stomach. I slowly opened my eyes, but half-closed them to slits immediately afterwards. The whiteness of the room was blinding and made my eyes hurt.

It took a while to realise I wasn't alone in the room, but then I noticed Pete sitting beside me, head in his hands.

"Hey," I managed. It was nothing more than a painful whisper, though, and my throat hurt even more after expelling the words.

He looked up, red eyes meeting mine. He'd been crying.

Why did I make everybody cry?

"How many of my mistakes are you going to repeat, kid?" he asked sadly, reaching out and taking my hand.

I didn't know the answer, and luckily I was saved from answering as another black void overtook me while I was still comforted by his presence.

******

I woke up once again, but this time to an empty room, which was quite odd, as I could've sworn that in the moments between unconscious and awake, someone else had been there.

Spencer entered the room a moment later, sitting down in the chair. "Sorry, Ry," he muttered. "I know I was being too tough on you, but you scared me so bad." He shook his head slowly. "I seriously thought you were going to die and I felt so responsible, because that would mean that I hadn't worked that conversation the way I should've."

I shook my head quickly, pointing at my own chest. I'd given up on speaking beforehand. 'All me,' I mouthed. 'I wouldn't listen.' I had to repeat the last bit before he understood the unspoken words.

Then he nodded, smiling sadly. "Don't ever do that to me again, Ry!" he ordered.

I nodded ceremoniously, not ever planning on getting close to that last resort again. 'I won't,' I promised, once again simply moving my lips soundlessly.

His smile turned a tad more happy. "Good. Then you should get some more sleep, 'k, buddy?"

I nodded and rested back against the pillow, falling asleep this time rather than falling unconscious.

******

Everybody was present when I woke up for good. I was exhausted, even after so much sleep, but somehow my mind was too awake to stay sleeping.

The whole thing was sort of awkward. How do you react to your friends after they saved you from an attempted suicide? How do they react to you?

I could tell that they were all more or less angry with me, but at the same time extremely relieved that I'd pulled through.

Brent was the one who decided to be informative. "We've been here for eight hours," he told me.

Good, I'd thought it had been closer to a week.

"And if it weren't for Spencer's quick acting, you probably wouldn't have made it. But as it was you didn't even need a pump-out."

I flashed Spencer a grateful smile.

"You pretty much wrecked your liver. You can't take any medication or as much as look at alcohol for the next five months or something while it gets back in shape."

Yeah, as if I had any urge to touch either after what I'd done.

"And since you're, after the circumstances, in pretty good shape, you'll be released the day after tomorrow, just in time to get on the plane with the rest of us and start the tour. You have to stay off your feet and sleep and relax as much as you can aside from shows for the first week, though."

Great, bored out of my mind in bed for a week. Hey, there was actually an upside to this! I could get out of interviews and meet'n'greets!

"And the doctor advises," he coughed slightly at this. "That you don't engage in any sexual activity for at least two weeks. Your body is too weak to stand both sex and shows."

I rolled my eyes. I had no plans of sleeping with anyone in a long time. That was a chapter of my life that had to end anyway. Then I simply gave them thumbs-up, making sure they knew I'd heard and understood everything.

******

The awkward silence had managed to grow rather uncomfortable through a couple of hours and as a matter of fact I was kind of relieved when Spencer volunteered to go home and start packing my things.

Brent decided to go with him, arguing that two people would undoubtedly be better at packing my shit than one.

Pete slipped out of the room without really saying anything about where he was going.

Brendon turned on the TV and I was free to let go of my breath in relief. Where there's a TV on there can be no uncomfortable silences.

At least that's what I'd always thought, but somehow the tense, loaded silence managed to block away the sounds of whatever insignificant show he'd found.

Finally he cleared his throat slightly, looking at the floor. "I'm sorry about earlier," he muttered. "I shouldn't have kissed you."

For a moment I tried to see if my voice was better. It was still gone, so instead I reached out an arm to where he was seated in a chair next to the bed, found his chin and forced his face up to an angle wher he could see me. I locked eyes with him for a split-second, then concentrated on the words I couldn't say out loud. 'Doesn't matter,' I mouthed.

A sort of relieved smile crossed over his face. "Thanks."

I shook my head. 'Thank YOU,' I returned.

His eyebrows creased in confusion.

'For being there,' I added, still silently. 'For helping.'

He shook his head slightly. "It was no big deal, Ry..." He trailed off. "Okay, yeah, so I'll admit it was pretty damn hard to see you like that, but you'd have done the same for me."

I nodded without a moment's hesitation, then, upon suddenly realising that I'd never removed my hand, quickly pulled it back to rest on my covers. I sent him a small smile before going back to watching the TV, finally somehow able to focus on it. At least now Brendon and I weren't more awkward than we'd already been. That was one down, three to go.

Right at that moment Pete came bursting back in to my big surprise. I'd actually assumed he'd gone home with Brent and Spencer since I hadn't seen him after they'd left. "Ry!" he called. "Look what I stole from the nurse!"

That was the moment when I decided to leave all other growing-up-psychology-shit I'd come up with about Pete alone. He WAS bipolar or something very much like that. He'd been sad and crying a few hours earlier, and now he was acting like a kid on crack.

I raised my eyebrows questioningly at him before a pad of paper and a pen with the hospital's emblem was shoved into my hands. Yes, only another lyricist apparently understands the need to vent into the paper.

Then I raised my head again to send him a grateful smile.

He smiled back, completely serene. "We all do stupid shit, Ryan," he replied. "Why should I hold a grudge against you for stirring up memories I wanted gone? I'm just glad you're still here."

I mouthed another, 'Thanks.'

He simply walked up and ruffled my hair. "Now get it all out on paper or something, that's way healthier."

I laughed hoarsely and soundlessly before I picked up the paper and pen, preparing to do just that.

"Go home and get some sleep," I heard Pete tell Brendon before I managed to focus completely on writing. "Spencer was right, I know this situation better than anyone, so I might as well put that experience into good use. I'll stay the night."

"You sure?"

I looked up at them briefly to see Pete nod.

"Alright," Brendon replied, nodding back. "Sleep well."

I sent him a broad smile, mouthing, 'You too.'

And for a moment I thought I saw something across his face, the flicker of a smile, the shadow of what it used to be, but still, I'd seen it.