Page 104 of All That Remains
We all fought about the stupidest shit back then, but he and I went at it the most. He detested my snoring and I hated that he sang while I watched the telly. He hated that I kicked my shoes off in the middle of the floor after returning home, and that my socks always ended up on his side of the room. I'd begun to put them there on purpose once I realized it got a rise out of him. What annoyed me the most was that he stole my T-shirtsand jumpers and relinquished them only when he was ready, regardless of how it inconvenienced me.
It took us a while to see the good in each other, and once those things became apparent, we were transfixed. He questioned me a lot about the music I listened to, and we began to exchange mixes and playlists on the regular. I fell in love with Pink Floyd and had him singing Johnny Cash and Elvis in no time. I began to use his hair products and cologne at his insistence, and above all he taught me to make a proper paper airplane, which in his opinion was a dire necessity. The thought of me having grown up without knowing blew his mind.
With he and I both having the top bunks across from each other, we would sometimes chat into the AM about the most absurd things; like aliens, angels, exotic pets, exotic cars, and missing school. Once or twice we ended up creeping into each other's beds to avoid waking the other boys with these late-night conferences, where we endeavored to keep our distance atop the covers. We'd watch early YouTube videos and DIYs, and dated DVDs on my laptop, sharing one set of headphones and snickering whenever someone hissed for us to shut up.
The early days were a haze of petty bickering and strife, which transformed into endless conversations in the wee hours, and a confusion of hormones exacerbated by the high of our weekly performances. I wouldn't change it for the world, not even our worst fights. Considering how far we'd come, things hadn't changed much.
I replayed a few voice notes from earlier and jotted down the broken lyrics that came to me on PCH. Tried to make sense of them. I deciphered something about our times in Covent Garden.Running through the garden—
A violent knock landed at the front door, rattling the entire house. My heart shot into my throat, as no one knew the gate code except for a select few, and those people would never stopby this late unannounced. It was dark out, and all the lights around the house were off. Whoever it was had no qualms about imposing or startling me awake. I grabbed my phone and searched the security footage, but couldn’t see a car. There was no longer anyone at the front door either. I couldn't see the back door because of the way the camera had been positioned, and it was proving to be a security risk.
On my way downstairs, I grabbed a baseball bat my dad had given me long ago, and crept down the steps to the halfway landing. I listened and the knocking had vanished. As I rounded the banister and headed for the front door, the motion sensor lights kicked on and I nearly pissed myself. I saw a figure standing at the glass beside the front entrance. It washim. I dropped the bat and it rolled away with a thunderous sound. As I slung the door open, he turned to face me, brow furrowed.
"M'sorry..." he muttered. "Rafe…please,babe...just one last time.Please..."
He rushed in and snatched me into his arms, squeezing me so hard my feet left the floor. We stumbled backwards into the house and the door slammed shut. We fell onto the chill marble and he crawled atop me, yanking my briefs down my hips and untangling them from my ankles.
The floor was frigid beneath my ass. I lay and waited for him to make his next move. He kissed my upraised knees, caressing my hips. All the blood rushed to my cock in a single heartbeat. When he loomed over me, pressing his lips to mine, the floor gave—
I free-fell over a bottomless drop—guts knotting violently. Suspended mid-air, I was unable to brace myself on anything in the wretched darkness. I cried out to him, but Rome was long gone. Not a trace of his presence remained. There was no one to hear. God was an afterthought. So was spacetime and the mere thought of humanity. There was a deep and galling senseof separation. From the world—from my own mind, which had voided all sense of what was happening. I had lost utter control of my being and wanted only to die. For it to all be over. To be welcomed into the sweet repose of eternity. But it was now perfectly clear, I would never stop plunging.
I flinched awake at the desk, having fallen asleep over my notes. I took a breath like I'd been held underwater too long, and my ribs ached with the effort. I could feel my heartbeat between my ears. It was after midnight and I had drooled all over my handiwork, so I collected it and blotted the saliva away. Finally I turned on Harry Nilsson's "Without You" and crawled into bed.
33
April 5, 2016
Seoul
"He kissed me," I’d said, lying without compunction. What? He kissed me?What the fuck was wrong with me? Why did I say that? I could smell the shit about to hit the fan the moment the words left my mouth. After Rome stormed out of the hotel room with Han's card, it dawned on me these petty games were no way to seek retribution for the Thailand blonde. I was only making things worse by trying to avenge my ego.
We’d agreed long agomenwere off limits. He was probably losing his mind right now, and I wanted nothing more than to let him simmer like I’d suffered on the way to Seoul after seeing the photos and articles about his latest cheating scandal. Particularly after seeing his desperate tweet attempting to make things right for Piper. What aboutme? Who was going to make things right for me? Where was my tweet of apology? My public redeclaration of love?
I was deeply conflicted. He needed tohurtthe way he'd hurt me. Holding her hand out in public? Knowing he'd be papped? Knowing he could never hold my hand in public? Yet he jumps and gives the privilege to a total stranger? I growled and punched myself in the head repeatedly. It was forever left to me to be the bigger person. Always the more forgiving. Always the one to forget and move past things that frankly nuked my world.I snatched the robe off and flung it with a childish petulance onto the floor. Sickto the back teeth of feeling this way.
Once dressed, I texted his security that I was on my way, but he stopped me. Joel was being firmer than usual. He said Rome wanted to be alone. That he'd been raging in his room. That the hotel manager had visited due to multiple complaints. Only the threat of eviction convinced him to calm down. Now the guard had been instructed to deter me if I tried to come over, and he was not a weak-willed man. His salary depended on it. There was nothing more I could do. I'd have to wait until he was willing to see me, which probably wouldn't be for a while. We were headed to the Philippines in a few days, and I decided I'd catch up with him on the ride to the plane. That way he'd have a few days to cool off.
***
I awoke to a wake-up call from management. Apparently Rome was leaving the tour due to stress. He was expected to return by the South Africa leg in Cape Town at the earliest. Mysoulplummeted. What had I done? There was no way I hadn't provoked him to this point. He wasleaving? What about the fans? The ones who’d paid to seehimspecifically?
I jumped up, washed my face and brushed my teeth, convincing myself I had to make things right. I sprinted to his room, but having forgotten my phone, justbeaton the door without relent. No answer. I ran back to my room and called his security, and he assured me Rome hadn't left yet. I nearly shit myself with relief.
After an hour or so, I ran back to his room in hopes that he would answer, and he did. He just wouldn't open the door.
"Rome, open up."
"What's up?"
"I wanna talk."
"I've got nothin' else to say, bro—"
"Would you just open up?!"
"Rafe..."
"Please, baby…” I whispered.Please."
