A Million Kisses Underwater
Tear This Place Apart
Mike still hates me, so I'm going alone. Mom offered to come with me but she practically lives here now so I tell her no and gave her strict instructions to rest! Tony and Jaime offered to come with me but I just feel like if I'm not coming here with Mike, I shouldn't come here with anybody else. I recall the conversation before I left the house
"Hey, I'm going to the hospital to see Dad, you wanna come or?" he laughs and turns the page of his AltPress magazine
"Eat shit" he replies not even looking up at me as he says it
"Dude, I could really use your support right now and I'm sure Dad would love to see you so come on, don't be stubborn" I plead
"Oh my fucking god, you're still here?" he rolls his eyes and climbs off the bed and walks over to me, danger tracing the irises of his eyes "I said eat shit. Did I stutter" it wasn't really a question and I can tell I'm only making matters worse, so I leave him to be pissed at me and gather all the courage I have to hop in the car and drive to the hospital.
The hospital—to see my fucking dad.
I swallow hard standing on the opposite side of the door, completely shut out from the world that is going on behind this very door—the same world that is tearing everything I know, love and feel secure because of, apart.
I close my eyes and count backwards from ten. Come on Vic man up, seriously man the fuck up. I feel incredibly weak and I'm second guessing whether I can really do this.
In the end I decide to just go inside, at least I can say I tried. I enter the room cautiously and I hear a steady beep that I recognize as the IV machine making the sound. The guy laying on the bed looks identical to my dad, but he doesn't carry as much life with him, his eyes are closed, his breathing even, other than that no sound or movement is coming from him—I guess this is what dying does, it becomes you, it slowly sucks away everything everybody loves about you until your left with skin, bones, redundant organs and a heart slowly coming to a stand still.
I swallow past the lump in my throat. Beep—Beep—Beep—Beep. The IV machine continues sounding that beep sound, keeping my sanity intact, reminding me we haven't lost him yet, I haven't lost him yet. I wish Mike were here. I wish anybody were here.
"Pop?" I reach out and hold his hand and his skin is warm—relief floods me. He squeezes my hand almost immediately and opens his eyes
"Son" he greets me and a watery smile plasters on his face.
"How are you doing, bud?" I pull the steel chair that is sitting in the corner to his bedside and sit there holding his hand again
"Dying. But want to know a secret?" I nod and he motions for me to come closer, I lean my ear in next to his lips and he whispers "I feel so—alive" I gulp and smile weakly at him, not sure how that really works out but doing my best to just be nice and polite to him, the same way he's been with me my whole entire life. "Don't look so glum, I could hop out of this hospital bed and do the Fandango if I really wanted to—of course I don't want to because I don't want all these female nurses to get distracted from their day job of saving peoples lives and I love your mother" I laugh out loud—a genuine, real laugh, it sounds odd and I pause for a second taking in how light and carefree I feel around my dad when he's cracking jokes like this. Even in this situation.
"Mike is pretty mad at me" I sigh staring down at my hands that are now folded into my lap. His face sinks and I feel guilt swarm me—nice one, you always have to put a downer on a good situation, Vic!
"Why?" he asks sadly
"Because I knew about you and he didn't. No one did, except of course, mom. And mom told me and we agreed that we wouldn't tell Mike straight away, we just wanted to protect him and I don't think he understands that" I shrug exhausted. "I knew two or three weeks before him and he's flipping out because he only found out yesterday—so did Jaime and Tony, who are coming to see you sometimes soon by the way—I just don't know Pops" understanding fills his eyes and I feel a little better, that's the kind of bond a father and a son have, you don't even need to speak to reassure one another that in the end it's going to be okay—and that''s how I know he is going to convince Mike to see my side of the story
"You tell my boy to come see me, I see to it that he is okay" he nods, smiling, encouraging me to take him seriously and I agree to pass on the message and I believe his words: I see to it that he is okay.
"Tell me, son. Why you quit your band?" he reaches out and puts a hand on my forearm, I hang my head low—ashamed. I kind of guessed mom would have already told him, I just hoped she hadn't (mom comes and sits with him at the crack of dawn every morning, spends the rest of the day at home and then comes back late at night to sit with him again. I admire her dedication)
"I can't do it, Pops." I look him in the eye "I can't go on tour in the future, knowing you're not going to be there at the sidelines telling me to put more soul into my voice when I sing my lyrics or to really try to hit the notes better. You began all this, you, nobody else." I wipe a fallen tear from my cheek "It's like a toy maker and his toys. How are toys created without a toy maker? How does Pierce The Veil exist without Pappa Fuentes, Pappa Roach?" I emphasize the last part, trying to get my point across further, he looks down for a second and looks back up with tears in his eyes.
"You had potential to be Pierce The Veils before and you have ability to continue to be Pierce The Veils long after I'm gone, Victor!"
I rub my eyes, exhausted from the lack of sleep, the crying, all this emotion is excruciating and exhausting, I hate it.
For the next couple of hours me and my pops talk about irrelevant crap, like we would if we were sat around the small wooden table and it's nice to just forget absolutely everything for a while and just focus on bonding with my idol, my Pops.
When I leave the hospital, I feel a little better than earlier yet I don't feel like going home and having reality—or Mike—smash me in the face repeatedly, I feel like wondering around aimlessly and seeing where I end up. Coincidentally—or maybe subconsciously I end up at the small jewelry shop I was at yesterday and I decide another effortless chat with a civilized human being is exactly what I need right now.
So I head inside.
"Hey, I'm going to the hospital to see Dad, you wanna come or?" he laughs and turns the page of his AltPress magazine
"Eat shit" he replies not even looking up at me as he says it
"Dude, I could really use your support right now and I'm sure Dad would love to see you so come on, don't be stubborn" I plead
"Oh my fucking god, you're still here?" he rolls his eyes and climbs off the bed and walks over to me, danger tracing the irises of his eyes "I said eat shit. Did I stutter" it wasn't really a question and I can tell I'm only making matters worse, so I leave him to be pissed at me and gather all the courage I have to hop in the car and drive to the hospital.
The hospital—to see my fucking dad.
I swallow hard standing on the opposite side of the door, completely shut out from the world that is going on behind this very door—the same world that is tearing everything I know, love and feel secure because of, apart.
I close my eyes and count backwards from ten. Come on Vic man up, seriously man the fuck up. I feel incredibly weak and I'm second guessing whether I can really do this.
In the end I decide to just go inside, at least I can say I tried. I enter the room cautiously and I hear a steady beep that I recognize as the IV machine making the sound. The guy laying on the bed looks identical to my dad, but he doesn't carry as much life with him, his eyes are closed, his breathing even, other than that no sound or movement is coming from him—I guess this is what dying does, it becomes you, it slowly sucks away everything everybody loves about you until your left with skin, bones, redundant organs and a heart slowly coming to a stand still.
I swallow past the lump in my throat. Beep—Beep—Beep—Beep. The IV machine continues sounding that beep sound, keeping my sanity intact, reminding me we haven't lost him yet, I haven't lost him yet. I wish Mike were here. I wish anybody were here.
"Pop?" I reach out and hold his hand and his skin is warm—relief floods me. He squeezes my hand almost immediately and opens his eyes
"Son" he greets me and a watery smile plasters on his face.
"How are you doing, bud?" I pull the steel chair that is sitting in the corner to his bedside and sit there holding his hand again
"Dying. But want to know a secret?" I nod and he motions for me to come closer, I lean my ear in next to his lips and he whispers "I feel so—alive" I gulp and smile weakly at him, not sure how that really works out but doing my best to just be nice and polite to him, the same way he's been with me my whole entire life. "Don't look so glum, I could hop out of this hospital bed and do the Fandango if I really wanted to—of course I don't want to because I don't want all these female nurses to get distracted from their day job of saving peoples lives and I love your mother" I laugh out loud—a genuine, real laugh, it sounds odd and I pause for a second taking in how light and carefree I feel around my dad when he's cracking jokes like this. Even in this situation.
"Mike is pretty mad at me" I sigh staring down at my hands that are now folded into my lap. His face sinks and I feel guilt swarm me—nice one, you always have to put a downer on a good situation, Vic!
"Why?" he asks sadly
"Because I knew about you and he didn't. No one did, except of course, mom. And mom told me and we agreed that we wouldn't tell Mike straight away, we just wanted to protect him and I don't think he understands that" I shrug exhausted. "I knew two or three weeks before him and he's flipping out because he only found out yesterday—so did Jaime and Tony, who are coming to see you sometimes soon by the way—I just don't know Pops" understanding fills his eyes and I feel a little better, that's the kind of bond a father and a son have, you don't even need to speak to reassure one another that in the end it's going to be okay—and that''s how I know he is going to convince Mike to see my side of the story
"You tell my boy to come see me, I see to it that he is okay" he nods, smiling, encouraging me to take him seriously and I agree to pass on the message and I believe his words: I see to it that he is okay.
"Tell me, son. Why you quit your band?" he reaches out and puts a hand on my forearm, I hang my head low—ashamed. I kind of guessed mom would have already told him, I just hoped she hadn't (mom comes and sits with him at the crack of dawn every morning, spends the rest of the day at home and then comes back late at night to sit with him again. I admire her dedication)
"I can't do it, Pops." I look him in the eye "I can't go on tour in the future, knowing you're not going to be there at the sidelines telling me to put more soul into my voice when I sing my lyrics or to really try to hit the notes better. You began all this, you, nobody else." I wipe a fallen tear from my cheek "It's like a toy maker and his toys. How are toys created without a toy maker? How does Pierce The Veil exist without Pappa Fuentes, Pappa Roach?" I emphasize the last part, trying to get my point across further, he looks down for a second and looks back up with tears in his eyes.
"You had potential to be Pierce The Veils before and you have ability to continue to be Pierce The Veils long after I'm gone, Victor!"
I rub my eyes, exhausted from the lack of sleep, the crying, all this emotion is excruciating and exhausting, I hate it.
For the next couple of hours me and my pops talk about irrelevant crap, like we would if we were sat around the small wooden table and it's nice to just forget absolutely everything for a while and just focus on bonding with my idol, my Pops.
When I leave the hospital, I feel a little better than earlier yet I don't feel like going home and having reality—or Mike—smash me in the face repeatedly, I feel like wondering around aimlessly and seeing where I end up. Coincidentally—or maybe subconsciously I end up at the small jewelry shop I was at yesterday and I decide another effortless chat with a civilized human being is exactly what I need right now.
So I head inside.
Notes
BLOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOP.Okay, the ending is rather shitty because I'm desperate to upload for you guys but my cousin is literally DRAGGING me from the comfort of my bedroom and laptop, to the scary outer-web. Help me :(
I hope this cleared some shit up for you and I hope you enjoyed it.
I'm sorry it couldn't be longer, but nature calls—AND I'M SERIOUSLY DOING MY BEST TO IGNORE THE FUCKING CALL, WELP
FEEDBACK PLEASE
loving you guys gahhhh x
forever never getting over this
4/22/14