*HAYLEY'S POV*
The downpour was relentless. I was lying on the sofa with Chad's head in my lap, half watching my favourite movie, Pet Sematary, and half pondering the events of the day - specifically, Zac's funeral. Some small part of me was also contemplating the rain outside the bay window of the sitting room, occasionally conjuring up whimsical, depressed lyrics.
Chad had come to stay with me while New Found Glory took a few days' breather from touring. He and I spoke almost every day via Twitter, Skype, phone calls and emails, but it wasn't the same as having him here, with me, in the flesh. Having a long-distance relationship was often frustrating - Chad, as the lead guitarist of the band, was always away doing shows, as was I with Paramore, and the brief occasions we had breaks rarely coincided. It was why I treasured moments like this so dearly. Usually, I would have been giving him my full attention, yet today I was on edge, with little to talk about.
I stroked his head absentmindedly, watching Dale Midkiff (who played Louis Creed) stalking through the creepy burial ground, and thinking how the film was doing little to distract me from thoughts of churches and graveyards and funerals. Once the screaming had resumed, I sat up, irked, and swiftly switched the television off at the set.
Chad turned around, looking bemused. "What did you do that for?"
I shook my head. I didn't want to tell him about the encounter with Josh Farro. "I have a headache, that's all." My voice cracked a little.
In response, Chad scooted over on the couch, concerned, and put his arm round me. I leaned into him instinctively, but it didn't bring me any comfort today.
"Hey, honey," he coaxed my chin up so I was looking at him. "You okay? I know when you turn Pet Sematary off that something's up," he joked. I laughed hollowly. "I'm sorry I couldn't make it to the funeral today. I wanted to come here earlier so I could support you, but the show was running late..."
"I know. Don't worry about it."
It was nighttime now; the clock in the corner read 11:45 PM, and I was exhausted. It had been a long, draining day. The sky was pitch black and there were no stars - they were obscured by grey wisps of cloud I could just make out in the darkness. My house was cold; I'd turned the heating off two days ago when Franklin had been boiling in the late stages of a short-lived heat wave that was supposed to have lasted three weeks. I shivered, and Chad moved his arm so it was wrapped fully around me.
Seeing Josh at the funeral was making me feel indescribably strange, for reasons unknown to me. His face was plaguing my thoughts, popping up at regular intervals, and I found myself reminded of the last time I'd seen him - it was the last show we'd played with Josh and Zac. We were at Orlando, Florida; it was just before Christmas. The two of them had told us a couple of months before that they were quitting the band, around the time when we were filming the Playing God video, but up until that point I had tried not to dwell on it. I remembered how when we were playing Ignorance, I went to stand by Josh on the stage as I sang. He had frowned and backed away.
After the performance, he and Zac left without a word. A few days later, he had posted that infamous post on his Blogger account, accusing me of being manipulated by my management, treating the rest of the group as my solo project, ectcetera, ectcetera. Even just thinking about those hurtful, irrelevant statements made my eyes prick. I felt myself welling up. Such an ugly end to what had been a great friendship... and relationship.
I needed to distract myself.
I placed my arms tightly around Chad's neck and quickly pressed my lips against his. He looked surprised by my sudden change of mood, yet he didn't complain. Returning the kiss carefully, haltingly, his eyes were open - probing mine, trying to read my thoughts. I was impatient. I threw myself into the kiss, opening my mouth and tasting his tongue.
Nothing. Not a single spark.
I moved my hand down from his shoulder onto his thigh, trying desperately to reawaken some sort of feeling in myself. In all honesty, I just felt stupid. And chilly.
Chad pulled away, eying me cautiously. He removed my hand from his leg and put it back around his neck.
"Now, are you going to tell me what happened today? Something is bugging you, Hayles. And it's not just that you're grieving over Zac. I can tell."
I gazed into the eyes of this caring, sensitive, six-foot-two sweetheart who I just couldn't evoke any desire for today and sighed, deciding to tell him the truth.
"I saw Josh Farro at the funeral today."
I felt Chad stiffen, stress knitting his thick eyebrows together. I knew I shouldn't have said anything. He hastily disguised the expression, however, composing himself and calming his features into an unreadable mask.
"Oh?" He asked, feigning polite interest. I knew it was just a pretence, but he carried on. "What did he say?"
"Nothing. I didn't speak to him. I just saw him amongst all the people there."
"Hmm." He murmured quietly.
It was impossible to tell if he was furious or worried underneath the facade of indifference; I could see a hint of the two in his grey eyes. Chad had never liked Josh; it had something to do with the fact that Josh had acted like a jerk - oh, and that we'd dated for about three years.
I knew Josh had acted like a jerk - that wasn't something anyone could deny - but I wasn't angry about it anymore.
I stared him down for what felt like several minutes, arms crossed, waiting for him to say something. Eventually his posture softened and he sighed deeply. He snaked his arms around my waist and pulled me into a bone-crushing bear hug, resting his head in my hair and smelling it.
"Did you change shampoos?" He asked me randomly.
I chuckled. "Yeah. You are now being treated to the Head and Shoulders Shea Butter Experience." He laughed into my hair. I felt my tension evaporate.
Leaning down a foot to my head-height, he planted a short, sugary kiss on the tip of my nose. Embracing him with all the force I could muster - still not a fraction of his - I felt doll-sized compared to his massive frame. I turned the TV back on and hit play, resuming where we had left off, and tried to forget all about Josh Farro.
*JOSH'S POV*
Glancing across at the digital alarm clock on the table beside the bed, I realised I had been staring at the ceiling, sleep evading me, for over an hour. It was 11:45 PM.
I rolled over to face Jenna, burrowing deeper into the blankets around me; it was freezing. She moved closer to me, drawn by my body heat, still fast asleep. Ordinarily, I would have put an arm around her, but my limbs felt immovable, leaden. They were fixed stubbornly to my sides. I couldn't think of anything but seeing Hayley, Jeremy and Taylor at my brother's funeral. Especially Hayley.
"Idiot," I muttered to myself, climbing out of bed. I wasn't going to be able to drift off anyway; there really wasn't any point in staying in this room any longer. I needed to be doing something.
I went down the stairs and fixed myself a drink of water, trying to make myself feel less uptight. It didn't work. There was a part of my brain I was ignoring, that was trying to tell me to do something I didn't want to hear.
Even so, I was pulled seemingly by some irrepressible magnetic force into the living room. I stood, motionless, in front of the telephone that sat on the hallstand, challenging me silently to pick it up.
Oh. Now I knew what I wanted to do.
No. No.
I paced there for several more minutes, battling with two sides of myself. Every time I concluded to call, my hand reaching towards the smug little device, I snatched it back, telling myself that it would be a wasted effort; nothing would come of it.
Because I'd known, right from the moment Zac and I had officially left Paramore, that I'd have to assuage things eventually. I couldn't carry on any longer, now that all those memories had been drenched back up to the surface, feeling the way I did. Like I'd left things unresolved.
And I was so begrudging about the whole situation. I was still angry about everything I'd written about in that blog post - that hadn't changed. The difference was that now I was ready to hear Hayley's side of the story (because, let's face it, that blog post was mostly aimed at her). When I'd written it, I was just looking for a way to vent my anger - I didn't want to hear anyone try to defend themselves. I did now. Even if I couldn't completely forgive Hayley, I needed to talk to her about it.
We'd never done that when I was still part of Paramore; we'd just let the resentment build up inside us, festering away, bottled up. It broke its way out of her in the form of angry lyrics. She had longed for someone to understand how she was feeling, and she put that across in Careful, Ignorance and Playing God. It wasn't the same way for me. The animosity began to turn me sour from the inside out. I became quieter and quieter; distant; hostile.
I just wanted to close this chapter of my life, for once and for all. And there was only one way to do that.
I snatched the phone from the jack - how odd it was that I could still remember her number, after all these years! - and dialled.
And when it rains
On this side of town it touches everything
Just say it again and mean it
We don't miss a thing
You made yourself a bed
At the bottom of the blackest hole
And convinced yourself that
It's not the reason you don't see the sun anymore
And no, oh, how could you do it?
Oh I, I never saw it coming
No, oh, I need the ending
So why can't you stay
Just long enough to explain?