Until We Lose Ourselves

36

Eden Paris hits reporter.

"Fuck." Eden cursed, being shown the article on Penelope's phone.

"You ran off. You hit a reporter. What happened when you were in there?"

"I saw some comments and... I don't know... I just needed to leave." Eden looked at the ground.

"You can talk to me, Eden." Penelope placed a hand on her shoulder.

Eden looked at her, tears about to fill her eyes, but then, they didn't, and her face became stoic. "I don't want to. It will die down soon. I won't associate myself with the paparazzi much now."

"After your club video, I don't think it'll die down that easily."

"Well then, to hell with it." Eden said, standing up. "Can you leave?"

Penelope sighed. "If that's what you want me to do."

As Penelope stood and left, Eden's heart sank. She wished she hadn't said that. She needed Penelope to be there. But she would have lost it, had she stayed. She rolled her eyes in irritation.

If you can't even survive being alone, you're just pathetic. She told herself.

And soon after, her heart started racing and she furiously pushed the vase of the counter. "Shit!" She yelled, when she realised what she had done. "Shit." She mumbled, holding back her tears, but who was she trying to hide them from? Who was she trying to show that she wasn't affected?

Herself, was the answer.

She slammed her hands on the table, repeatedly hitting her head against it, until she felt tired to the point, she couldn't move, and so she stayed there, an ugly bruise forming on her head.

.

Jonah had promised himself, he wouldn't cut again. That night, he stared at the faded scars on his wrists. He didn't know how long he stayed that way, but eventually, his hands started to hurt. He was getting help. He saw the therapist once a week. It hadn't been long, but he was getting better. Though, he kept his hands that way for way too long, until his hands went stiff and numb. He put them down, heaving a breath. The pain was not much. It didn't occur to him that it was another form of self-harm.

He laid in bed, quiet. He had become used to the loneliness, though he wished more than anything that someone would be there to make noise and pull him back out of his thoughts once he slipped into them.

He wished Eden was there.

His eyes closed, remembering the conversations between them, and the nights they shared. He also thought of the video of her dancing in a club with the model, Harry Tunningstun. His scrawny self could never compare to him, though Jonah was taller. He sighed. There were reports that she had attacked the paparazzi. Would she have told him what happened?

It surprised him that he still hadn't gotten over her. His therapist had told him to look for a new love interest. It wasn't that easy, with Eden still on his mind. He didn't want to admit it, but he knew that Eden wouldn't care about him anymore.

They had been built to fall apart.

He forced his thoughts off her, turning to his side. He could open the windows. His therapist told him that he needed to overcome that, but he wasn't sure he was ready to.

The cameras he had gotten installed bothered him, but he wouldn't get rid of them. He felt safer, though exposed and anxious.

His sleep normally consisted of several nightmares, espscially now that sleeping pills had stopped working. The antidepressants were slower at losing their effect, though he was prescribed better ones, and told that they should be used with breaks, at least 3 days.

As the anxiety crept up on him, he took a shaky breath, before grabbing his phone and dialing Eden's number. He didn't know what pushed him to do it, but he needed to hear her voice again.

But instead he heard a manly voice. "Hello?"

"Oh sorry, I was calling my friend-" he started to ramble, but was cut off.

"Is your friend Eden Paris?"

"No, I mean, yeah, yes, that's her."

"She left her phone with me. Do you have any way of telling her to get it? Or could you come and get it?"

"Sorry, sir, I- I'm not in Europe. I'm in USA."

"That's a shame. I'll call someone else to try to get it back to her. Goodbye, erm..."

"Jonah. And Goodbye to you too, sir."

"Bye."

Jonah pulled the phone away from his ear, a small frown graced his face, confusion in his head, and slight relief, in the relaxing of his shoulders and the constricting feeling becoming minimal, all of which had come when he had realised he had dialed her number.

With a sigh, he realised, it was morning. He pursed his lips.

.

"And your music is amazing. Of course, I've also seen all of your shows and movies, but are you working on anything else? It's been a while since..."

Jonah let her go on. His manager had gotten her manager to agree that they needed to pair up and start dating for the media. It solved a bit of his problems. He now had a distraction.

Sophia wasn't interested in him, and she let him know that. "We aren't actually dating, and I'm also telling you that it won't happen either, you know, I'm more into girls, but I don't want that information out to the media." She looked at him apologetically.

His eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Really? I mean, that's completely fine. I..." He scratched the back of his neck.

"Thank you. I hope I've found a friend in you though. I've not told many people, but I felt you should know." She smiled at him.

"No worries, and yeah, I guess, we can be friends. You can be..." He smirked.

"Don't you say it." She warned.

"My gay best friend. Yes! Finally!" Jonah punched the air.

"Oh fuck off, Radford." Sophia rolled her eyes, but smiled nonetheless.

"Wanna get out of here?" He asked.

She raised an eyebrow.

"Not like that! I meant, to go do something, we just had lunch, maybe go- do something, maybe the movies?"

"Hell yes, I need to watch Nightlight, it's been out for a week, but I never got the time to go and see it, finally, I have time and a friend to go with..."

Jonah chuckled lightly. Her rambling continued as they exited the small restaurant.