Bahahaha Kirk in the photo^^^
"Damn, baby girl. It's 9 in the morning." Kirk groaned, wrapping his arms around my waist and nuzzling his nose into my back.
These last few months have been a dream; living with Kirk was one of the best things that ever happened to me. Wake up next to him, his hair all ruffled up, and then spend the rest of our day playing guitar or cuddling up to a nice movie. I'd do anything to make these days last forever.
And I'd be lying if I said we hadn't fucked on every counter, shower, and piece of furniture. Now that we got that out, having movie nights on Fridays, date nights on Sundays, and watching each other play gigs now and then were more than what I asked for. The tour made me forget how much I enjoyed being in his company, and now having him by my side 24/7, I never felt this much happier.
"I couldn't sleep." I smiled and switched the stove off, spinning around to face him. He had his hair up in a messy ponytail, his quirky glasses on, and wearing nothing except for a pair of red underwear.
I can still hear Ron saying, 'Are you sure he's straight?'
He glared at my record player, blaring 'One-way ticket' at max volume, "I didn't know you were into disco."
With the guys, our day starts at 9, blaring blues, soul, rock- whatever records we got our hands on and shaking the whole house up. We'd clean, cook, do our shit in the mornings; take a break during the day, then play our gigs, and get shitfaced at night. On the other hand, Kirk wasn't exactly very fond of my routine and preferred to sleep the day away and do his shit at night. Oh well, he'd get used to it eventually.
He grimaced as the chorus hit louder than anticipated, "Hungover?" I asked.
"No. Just too damn early." He yawned, kissing my forehead, "So you guys do this every morning?"
"Every damn day." I smiled when he groaned in annoyance, "You'll get used to it."
"Or I can fuck you so hard, you'll be tired in the morning?"
"Go shower." I laughed, pushing him away.
"Only if you join me." He smirked.
Of course, he'd ask that. I rolled my eyes, "I'll think about it."
"Yes!" He cheered and spun me around.
He picked up the record sleeve, furrowing his eyebrows at Precious Wilson, with beads in her hair, "South African band? Never heard of em."
I opened my eyes in shock, "You've never heard of Eruption?"
He shook his head, "It's British, and you are uncultured."
"Yea, yea, yea." He rolled his eyes and shook it off. His footsteps echoed off the tiles, and I was left alone, surrounded by nothing but my music.
I turned my attention back to my food, lazily flipping the toasted cheese over the pan.
"Savannah!" I heard a voice echo and a firm grip around my waist, spinning me around until I was dizzy.
"You fuckhead." I swore, pulling Ron into a tight hug, "I haven't seen you in weeks.
"I have so much to tell you," I said, pouring ourselves a shot.
"Me first." He took a deep breath before he emptied his glass in one go, "I'm leaving."
"To?" I asked skeptically, my gaze in his eyes.
"The band. I'm leaving the band."
No.
No. No. No. No. No.
"No," I heard myself say.
One moment. Two. And three. Ron takes a deep breath. Then a million more. Right hand over left, spinning the metal ring on his ring finger over and over and over and over.
"It's over," He said.
"What?" I say the word, but my lips make no sound. I'm numb, somehow. Blinking but seeing nothing.
"It's over," Duncan said from the doorway, "The band."
I looked at him. My best friend. My lover. But he merely just turned around, shutting the door behind him.
No." I exhale the word, exhale the impossibility. He nods. He's disagreeing with me. "No."
"Savannah."
"No," I say. "No. No. Don't be stupid," I say to him. "Don't be ridiculous," I say to him. "Don't lie to me goddamn you," but now my voice is high and broken and shaking, and "No," I gasp, "no, no, no—"
I lean back against the counter. My eyes are filling fast with tears, and I blink and blink, but the world is a mess. I wanted to laugh because all I can think about is how horrible and beautiful it is, that our eyes blur the truth when we can't bear to see it. The ground is hard. Ron tried to touch me, but I think I screamed and slapped his hands away. I felt the revulsion bubbling up and unsettling my insides, but I asked anyway. I was horizontal and somehow still tipping over, the holes in my head tore open, and I stared at a spot on the tiles not ten feet away. I have to hear him say it.
"Why?" I asked. It's just a word, stupid and simple. "Why are you going?"
I'm not breathing anymore, not speaking at all; just expelling letters through my lips. Ron didn't at me. He looked at the wall, the floor, the food, and the way his knuckles look when he clenches his fists, but no, not at me, he won't look at me.
His next words are so, so soft, "She won't let me."
"She?"
"My wife. She said I have to choose between her and the band."
"You choose the band, Ron. I'd drop Kirk for you guys. Duncan would drop his wife for the band. You can't just leave."
"She's pregnant, Savannah. I have to."
My mind blanks. Pregnant? Was there something in the water? Why the fuck is everyone getting pregnant.
"So then, why is she making you leave?"
"She said that I won't be there for her."
"Take her to a fucking mental institute." I hissed, walking away from him. I can't bear to look at him.
"I'm so sorry," he says. "You have no idea how sorry I am."
"Liar," I whispered venom in my voice. I was angry and mean, and I couldn't be bothered to care. "You're not sorry at all."
I glanced at Ron just long enough to see the hurt flash in and out of his eyes. He clears his throat. "I am sorry," he says again, quiet but firm. He picks up his jacket from where it was hanging on a nearby rack; shrugs it on without a word.
"Where are you going?" I asked, guilty in an instant. "You need time to process this and you have no use for my company."
"Please tell me you're not leaving." My voice breaks. My breath catches. "Tell me there's a chance you could be wrong—"
Ron stared at me for what felt like a long time. "If there were even the slightest chance I could spare you this pain," he finally says, "I would've taken it. You must know I wouldn't do this to you."
And it's this—his sincerity—that finally snapped me in half. Because the truth was so unbearable, I wish he'd lied to me. I don't remember when Ron left. I don't remember how he left, or what he said. All I know is that I've been lying there curled up on the floor long enough. Long enough for the tears to turn to salt, and for my throat to dry up, and my lips to chap, and for my head to pound as hard as my heart.
I sat up slowly, feeling my brain twist somewhere in my skull. I managed to climb onto the bed and sit there, still numb but less so, and pull my knees to my chest. Life without Ron. Life without the band, and without performing and touring and playing guitar, and Duncan and Neil. The band was all destroyed with the flick of a switch.
I held on tight, praying the pain will pass. It doesn't. Ron is gone. My first friend. My only friend when I had none and now he's gone and I don't know how to feel. Strange, mostly. Delirious, too. I feel empty, and broken, and cheated, and guilty, and angry, and desperately, desperately sad.
The tears were fresh and falling fast now, traveling quietly down my cheeks. My shoulders won't stop shaking, my fists keep clenching, my body is cramping, my knees are knocking, and old habits are crawling out of my skin. I keep counting cracks and colors and sounds and shudders and rocking back and forth and back and forth.
I have to let him go, I have to let him go, I have to, I have to.
I close my eyes and breathe. Harsh, hard, rasping breaths. In. Out. Count them. I've been here before, I tell myself. I've been lonelier than this, more hopeless than this, more desperate than this. I've been here before and I survived. I can get through this.
But never have I been so thoroughly robbed. Possibilities, friendships, and futures: gone. I have to start over now; face the world alone again. I have to make one final choice: give up or go on.
I got to my feet. My head is spinning, thoughts knocking into one another, but I swallow back the tears. I clench my fists and try not to scream and I tuck my friends in my heart and revenge I think has never looked so sweet.
Was I gonna kill her? It sounded so, so good. Watch her blood spill from her- No. That's illegal okay.
I grabbed my keys to my Harley and yanked the garage door open. There she was. I ran my hands over the handlebars. The cool leather, the cold metal. I don't think I realized how much I missed this. I strapped on my helmet and straddled the seat, the sweet sound of the engine roaring back to life, filling the air.
I kicked it into gear and I watched the cars fly past me. 50mph. 60. I lifted the front wheel of the motorbike and it hit the ground. 70. 80. Maybe just another. 90. Now I was free. I raced down the highway, back to L.A. 45 minutes of sweet, pure, speed. Other things besides cocaine could get my heart racing and my thoughts out of my mind.
I sped past the shop where I got my first tattoos, and before I could comprehend it, I was already at the end of the road. I made a U-turn and I heard the bell ring as I opened the door.
"Slash? " I smiled, "Long time no see."
~~~~~~
Kirk's POV
It's been 5 goddamn hours. She wasn't home. The garage was open, her motorbike was gone and she was nowhere to be found. I called Duncan but she wasn't there, I turned the place upside down for a note, something, anything to tell me where she was but nothing. Nothing.
Oh my god. What if she crashed? She drove that thing recklessly. What if she- no. Fucking hell, Savannah. Where are you?
"What the fuck happened here?"
"Savannah!" I jumped to my feet and held her so tight I thought she'd shatter in my hands, "Where. The. Hell. Were. You?"
"I went for a ride and then I went by Slash." She said softly, her voice on the edge of breaking. Was she shooting up again? Oh god. She needs to get away from him. If it wasn't for that asshole she wouldn't be hooked.
"And you didn't bother to tell me!?" I shouted, caressing her hair, "It's 10 in the afternoon! do you know how worried I was? I thought you-" I didn't want to complete that sentence. No, I didn't even want to think about it.
"I'm sorry." Guilt hit me like a truck.
"It's ok. You're safe, that's all that matters."
"I need a shower." She pulled herself free from my grip and ran up the stairs, taking two at a time. She seemed worried and tense. Her eyes looked devoid of emotion like she was on another plane of existence. Her hands were colder than usual, and that energy that kept me going seemed lost. Something happened. Something she wasn't telling me.
"Sav' I-" She shut the bathroom door before I could talk, and the sound of the lock clicking shattered through me.
"Sav?" I asked, trying to open the door, "Babe."
"I just want to be alone." I heard her muffled voice through the door.
That was it. I picked up the phone and called the one person that knew her every thought, her every action, her every move.
"What's up, Kirkie-boy?"
"Helen, I told you to stop calling me that." I said, unamused, "What's up with Savannah?"
"Ahh, she didn't tell ya? They broke up. Disbanded. Call it what you wanna."
"What? Why?"
They were best friends, and as far as I knew, breaking up was the last thing in their plans. Savannah must be devastated. No wonder she's locking me out. They broke her innocent little heart.
"Because they're dumb fucking assholes with no brains." She cussed, "If she didn't tell you it's bad, and I don't know shit. If she ain't tellin' ya, she got a damn good reason why."
"It's Savannah. Does she ever have a good reason for the shit she does?" I cracked, I glanced over at the bathroom door. Still nothing.
"I don't know. Anyways, tell me when you get shit." And just like that. She cut the line. Fuck.
I opened the bedside drawer and found Savannah's stash of weed, already rolled and ready to be lit. She was always calm and peaceful when she smoked it, and calm and peaceful was what I needed to feel right now.
"Sav?" I called and knocked on the door. She didn't respond and my heart raced, "Sav?" I asked again, worried.
I leaned against the door, trying to hear a sound, her movements.
"Fuck!" She opened the door and I lost my balance, hitting the cold tiles.
She clasped her hands over her mouth, trying to stifle her laughter. I crossed my arms and pouted as she knelt beside me, her forehead pressed against my shoulders as she laughed.
"Yea. I'm fine. Thanks for asking, babe." I said sarcastically.
"Aww. Come here." She kissed my forehead and I hummed in satisfaction.
She was okay. She was fine. That's all that matters.
~~~~~
The lights were out as we were lying in bed. She was stretched out across my body, her head pillowed on my chest. My eyes are on the ceiling as I ran my hand over her hair, my fingers occasionally combing through the strands.
"Your hair is like water," I whispered. "It's so fluid. Like silk." I left a light kiss on top of her head.
I felt her shiver and I ran my hand down her arms "Are you cold?" I asked.
I wanted to crack my guitar over Ron's back. How could he hurt her like this? And then just leave her all alone. I beat myself about this over and over. I should have been there for her. My poor little girl. She'd never admit it, but she was hurt more than what she'd acknowledge.
"You can't avoid this forever," I said.
"We don't have to avoid it at all," She replied. "There's nothing to avoid."
"I just want to know you're okay," I said. "I'm worried about you."
She still hasn't said a single thing to me about Ron. She never said a word the entire time we were in our room. Hasn't even alluded to it. Not once. Even now, she still said nothing.
"Savannah?"
"Yes, love."
"You're not going to talk about it?" She was silent again for so long that I had to turn around to face her.
"He'll be happier," he says softly. "This is a great consolation to me."
She was hurt. When she used big, fancy, college words then she was hurt. I didn't push her to speak after that.
"Kirk," she said.
"Yes?" I could hear her breathing. "Thank you," she whispers. "For being there for me when I need you." I turned around then. Pressed close to her, my nose grazing her neck.
"I will always be here if you need me," I said, the pain catching and hushing my voice. "Please remember that. Always remember that."
More seconds drowned in the darkness. I felt myself drifting off to sleep. What the hell was in those joints? Last time I checked she was into Sativa but this was definitely the opposite.
"Is this happening?" I heard her whisper.
"What?" I blinked, trying to stay awake.
"You feel so real," she said. "You sound so real. I want so badly for this to be real."
"This is real," I replied. "And things are going to get better. Things are going to get so much better. I promise."
She takes a tight breath. "The scariest part," she said, so quietly, "is that for the first time in my life, I believe that."
"Good," I said softly, turning my face into her head. I closed my eyes. Savannah's arms slip around me, pulling me closer.
"Why are you wearing so many clothes?" she whispered.
"Mmm?"
"I don't like these," she said. She tugged on my pants. I touched my lips to her neck, just barely. It's a feather of a kiss.
"Then take them off," I replied.
She pulled back the covers. I only had a second to bite back a shiver before she was kneeling between my legs. She found the waistband of my pants and tugged them, pulling them off, over my hips, down my thighs. So slowly. My heart was asking me all kinds of questions. She bunched my pants in one fist and threw them across the room.
Her arms slipped behind my back, pulling me up and against her chest. Her hands move under my shirt, up my spine, and soon my shirt is gone. Tossed in the same direction as my pants. I shivered, just a little, and she eases me back onto the pillows. Her body heat was so welcome, so warm. My head tilted backward. My eyes were still closed. My lips parted for no reason at all.
"I want to be able to feel you," she whispered, her words in my ear. "I want your skin against mine." Her gentle hands moved down my body. "God, you're so soft," she said, her voice husky with emotion. She kissed my neck. My head spun. Everything went hot and cold, as something stirred to life inside of me, my hands reached for her waist, looking for something to hold on to, my eyes trying and failing to stay open.
I'm only just conscious enough to whisper her name.
"Yes, love?"
I try to say more but my mouth won't listen.
"Are you asleep now?" she asked.
Yes, I think. I don't know. Yes. I nod.
"That's good," she says quietly.
She lifted my head and pulled my hair away from my neck, so my face falls more easily onto the pillow. She shifted so she was beside me on the bed.
"You need to sleep more," I said. She nodded again, curling onto my side. She pulls the blankets up around my arms. She kisses the curve of my shoulder. My shoulder blade. Five kisses down my spine, one softer than the next.
"I will be here every night," She whispered, her words so soft, so tortured, "to keep you warm. I will kiss you until I can't keep my eyes open."
My head was caught in a cloud. 'Can you hear my heart?' I want to ask her. 'I want you to make a list of all of your favorite things, and I want to be on it.' But I fell asleep so fast that I had lost my grasp on reality, and I didn't know how to move my mouth. Time has fallen all around me, wrapping me at this moment. And Savannah is still talking. So quietly, so softly. She thinks I'm asleep now. She thinks I can't hear her.
"Did you know," she whispered, "that I wake up, every morning, convinced you'll be gone?"
Wake up, I keep telling myself. Wake up. Pay attention.
"That all of this," she said, "these moments, will be confirmed as some kind of extraordinary dream? But then I hear you speak to me," she said. "I see the way you look at me and I can feel how real it is. I can feel the truth in your emotions, and in the way you touch me," she whispered, the back of her hand brushing my cheek.
My eyes flickered open. I blinked once, twice. Her lips are set in a soft smile.
"Savannah," I whispered.
"I love you," she said.
My heart no longer fits in my chest.
"Everything looks so different to me now," she said. "It feels different. It tastes different. You brought me back to life."
She's quiet for a moment. "I have never known this kind of peace. Never known this kind of comfort. And sometimes I am afraid," she says, dropping his eyes, "that my love will terrify you."
She looked up, so slowly, gold lashes lifting to reveal more sadness and beauty than I'd ever seen in the same moment. I didn't know a person could convey so much with just one look. There's extraordinary pain in her. Extraordinary passion. It took my breath away. I took her face in my hands and kiss her, so slowly. Her eyes fall closed. Her mouth responds to mine. Her hands reached up to pull me closer but I stopped him.
"No," I whispered. "Don't move."
She dropped her hands.
"Lie back," I whispered.
She does. I kissed her everywhere. Her cheeks. Her chin. The tip of her nose and the space between her eyebrows. All across her forehead and along her jawline. Every inch of her face. Small, soft kisses that said so much more than I ever could.
I wanted her to know how I felt. I wanted her to know it the way only she can, the way she could sense the depth of emotion behind my movements. I wanted her to know and never doubt. And I wanted to take my time.
My mouth moved down to her neck and she gasped. I breathe in the scent of her skin, take in the taste of her. I ran my hands down her sides, kissing my way across and down the line of her torso. She kept trying to reach for me, to touch me, and I have to tell her to stop. My needy girl.
"Please," she says, "I want to feel you—"
I gently put her arms back down. "Not yet. Not now."
My hands move to her pants. Her eyes flew open. "Close your eyes," I have to tell her.
"No." She can hardly speak.
"Close your eyes."
She shook her head. "Fine."
I hooked my finger on the waistband of her pants.
"Kirk," she breathes.
As I was pulling them off, she lurched forward.
"Lie down. Please."
She stared at me, eyes wide. She finally fell back. I tugged her pants off all the way, tossing them to the floor. She was left in nothing but her underwear. I traced the stitching on the soft cotton, following the lines on the overlapping pieces of her panties as they intersect in the side.
She breathed so fast, I could hear her, but I couldn't see his chest moving up and down. Her eyes were squeezed shut. Her head tilted back. Her lips parted. I touched her again, so gently.
She stifles a moan, turning her face into the pillows. Her whole body was trembling, her hands clutching at the sheets. It wasn't about making her scream, it was about leaving her breathless. I ran my hands down her legs, gripping them just above her knees and inching them apart to make room for the kisses that I trailed up the insides of her thighs. My nose skims her skin.
I found the elastic waist of her underwear. Tugging it down. Slowly. Slowly. The tattoo is sitting just below her hip bone.
Hell is empty, and all the devils are here.
I kissed my way across the words. Kissing away the devils. Kissing away the pain. I kissed my way back into the innermost part of her thigh, and then finally latching my lips on where she needed me the most. I swirled my tongue over her sensitive clit, her back arching against the bed.
"Oh. Kirk. Please." She moaned, her fingers finding their way to my hair, pulling tight at my every move. I held her tighs in place with my hands, my teeth grazing over her sweet spot.
She cried out in a soundless scream as my thumb made tight, my tongue flicking in and out of her pussy. I slowed down when she was getting close, and then quickened my pace to stimulate her. She hated when I edged her, and that made me love it more.
She tried pulling me away, but I ignored her, continuing to drive her into a lust-filled frenzy
And finally, she came, my senses swarmed in the scent of her sex, lapping every drop like a man starved.
Usually times like these led to a hard fuck afterwards, but tonight she needs to be loved.
I cupped her cheek, uniting our lips in a slow kiss, savouring every gasp for air, every moan, every touch.
Her hand trailed down my chest, my torso before she finally grabbed my hardened cock.
She didn't pull away as I began tracing my name in her mouth. Instead, her hand moved up and down, slowly jerking me off.
She swallowed my moans, decreasing the pace when I got comfortable, and quickening to bring me right to the edge.
Just like I would have teased her.
Her legs wrapped around my waist and I took the opportunity to run a finger along her pussy.
She gasped, clutching my shoulder but I ignored her pleas.
I pulled apart, sucking my fingers before I slipped one into her pussy, a smile tugging on my lips as her eyes fell shut, her lips parted with bated breath.
Her hands never stopped working, rubbing the top of my head before running up and down my shaft. Looks like today we'll be jerking each other off.
I quickened my pace, just a little and she squeezed my tip in response. A pleasurable shudder wracked through my body as she smirked in response.
I couldn't help but let out a small chuckle before I bent down to join our lips. Some kisses you felt in your bones, this one I felt in my soul.
The kiss became more frantic as we both drew nearer to our orgasm, blood rushing to my head as my heart started galloping.
She looked at me, desperation in her eyes.
"Together, baby girl." I said before a groan tore out of my throat.
I fell on all fours, thick ropes of cum spilling onto my belly. My heart racing as she climaxed once again. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head, her legs stopped quivering and her lips slightly parted. Did she black out?
"Savannah." I said, shaking her awake, "Are you okay."
"Spent." She breathed. She tried to get up, but she didn't have an ounce of strength left in her.
I picked her up and set her on the chair, cleaning her up and changing the sheets as quickly as I could; before laying her down on her pillow.
I lay down next to her, my elbows propped up on the bed, face dropped into my hands.
"Are you alright?" I ask her. She looked up and nodded her head, too tired to speak. "Breathe, sweetheart."
I turn to face her and slipped my hands around her face. Her eyes are bright, intense, steady, and so full of confidence. I smiled, soaking in her beauty as I tucked a strand of hair behind her ears. I couldn't believe this girl was mine.
She smiled and turned onto her belly, her pillow in her arms. My attention flickered to her back, littered with all those horrible scars, but one specific thing caught my attention.
It was a tattoo.
No pictures, just one word. 1 word, typed into the center of her upper back in ink.
"Do you like it?" She asked.
"Angel's name." I breathed.
She nodded her head, burying her face in her pillow as I rolled over to her, admiring her tattoo closer.
I touched one finger on it, as gently as I could be, before tracing every letter, feeling it under my finger tips, allowing the memories to rush through my head.
The past few years feel like a blur. Millions and millions of events and memories feel like they rushed by within a day.
I hard her suck in a breath, hard and heavy as I kissed her tattoo.
That's where everything went downhill, that's were everything went wrong. When we lost Angel.
"Kirk?"
My heart stopped beating as her shaky voice reached my ears. I flipped her over to find her reduced to a mess, her bottom lip trembling and her tears flowing down her cheeks.
I quickly pulled her to my chest, rubbing her back and trying to push aside the pain of seeing her hurt.
"Cry, sweetheart," I said, "Let it all out, I'm here for you."
[Rate this chapter out of ten and lemme know what ya think. Love ya always, XOXOXO]