Sunday, February Tenth, 8:00 P.M….

I was laying in my room, just staring up at the ceiling. A fan twirled above my head. I couldn’t stop thinking about them.

All of them.

Ricky Horror.

Zack Merrick.

Austin Carlile.

Mike Fuentes

They could all make a band if they really wanted to. One screamer, one guitarist, one bassist, and one drummer. I loved all of them, and I would them in the end. How could I choose just one? They all made an impact on my life.

I hated myself for it. I hated that I had to grow attached to them. I hated myself for thinking I could make it work, for distracting myself from their affections. They all helped me and all I could do in return was hurt them.

Ricky had been there when no one else had. When Chris was abusing me, he had been there to tend to my wounds. Who had been the one to hold me in his bunk while I had cried because of the pain of my twisted ankle, of my bruised ribs, of my bleeding back? Not Ghost. It had been Ricky all along. Who had been the one to house me when I escaped? Who had betrayed his own band to help me? Ricky Horror, that’s who. And I loved him.

Who had been the first to take me in? Who had been the one to soothe my anxious mind, to help my fragile being? It had been Zack, the one who was quiet and tender, the one who had held me and supported me through the tough times. And I loved him.

Who had been the one, so tall and gentle, to help me through the worries, the heartache? Who had been the one to protect me at the concerts, to help organize the bands to keep me safe? Who had been the one to reassure me through it all, the one to keep me calm, to help my mental health to heal? Austin Carlile, the one who had made sure I was safe when Casper called Motionless in White to let them know I was on the bus. And I loved him.

Who had been the boy who had been late to pick me up? Who had been the one to look so scary and fierce, yet be so tender and sweet? Who had been the one to snap me out of my state of constant fear and breakdowns to get me out of my shell? It was Mike. And I loved him.

I loved all of them. Why couldn’t I choose? How could I heart them?

I’m just one of those stupid people pleasers. I can’t say no. I can’t put distance between us. I get sucked into their puppy dog eyes and I’m so helplessly lost. I can’t let them go…but I have to. I thought bitterly, nails digging into my palm until it began to hurt. I sighed deeply. I really just couldn’t say no.

My eyes swiveled around the room until they landed on my bag in the corner. Their numbers were there. All it would take was one phone call to leave the others behind. Calling one means letting go of the others. I couldn’t do it.

I also can’t leave until the end of this dreadful month. So long…so painful.

My eyelids fluttered shut once again. My teeth ground together in frustration. I thought back to Ricky. He managed to put up with my sporadic mood switches and my full throttle panic attacks that appeared for no reason. Bubbles of choked out laughter escaped my lips as I thought back to the expression he would make when he was frustrated with something or he was trying to concentrate. He’d wrinkle up his nose and then twist his lips into a sideways grimace.

Waking up from my daydream, I tossed the thoughts of future choices aside to look over the balcony, into the living room. Two forms were curled up together on the couch. Smiling silently, I lightly stepped down the stairs to the living room. I pulled a blanket tighter around my shoulders, one that I stole off the back of a chair earlier today. It was early at night, but the lights were dimmed. The TV played The Office softly in the background.

I couldn’t help but stare at the couch. Haven’s hair just barely poke above the back of the couch. I couldn’t see Zila’s other form curled up on the couch. A soft rhythm of sighs were heard just barely under the noise of Dwight yelling at Jim on the TV.

I stepped forwards and a creaky board gave away my ghostly presence. Haven’s head poked up over the couch, his eyes glittering in the dark. I stepped forward, keeping on my advances. Settling down on a reclining chair, Haven paused the show, the dim lights barely reflecting off his face.

“Hello, Rory.”

“Hey, Haven.” I responded just as quietly. Haven was stretched out on the couch, Zila settled between his legs, her upper body curled up on his chest. One arm was against her chest, her hand curled into a fist just against her lips, like she was pressing a sleepy kiss onto her knuckles. The other hand was settled against Haven’s chest, fingers clutching onto his blue shirt just like a security blanket. Her hair was a loose mess of black strands against his arm, his fingers woven into her hair, stroking it gently. At the noise, the sleeping form stirred slightly, pressing her head just under Haven’s chin against his collarbone. Haven smiled caringly at the dreaming gesture.

“Zila asleep?” I asked the obvious question, filling in the silence.

“She fell asleep about twenty minutes ago. I would love to put her to bed, but I don’t want to wake her.” He lamented. I nodded, staring at her sleepy form. She looked so…innocent, as if she had never harmed a person in her life, she had never been the kick ass Zila we all knew her to be. She was just a teen, almost an adult. She looked…secure, safe, quiet, and at peace. This was a completely different Zila than I had come into contact with.

“Are you guys…uh…dating?” I asked softly and awkwardly. Thank goodness the darkness was hiding my blush. Haven seemed to be turning pink as well.

He eventually answered, clearing his throat softly. “Oh, no, no…We…uh…no, no. Not at all. When I first met Zee, she made it very clear that she wasn’t going to date anybody, not after…the incident. I understand why.” He spoke softly, staring down at her. His hand gently caressed her hair, smoothing out the strands in a very comforting manner. A quiet sigh of contentment escaped her partially parted lips. I looked to him for more information when he started again. “Again, I’m not one to talk a lot about it. It’s her story to share, not mine. But…ever since the incident, she made a choice to pull the trigger. When she killed him, she wounded the part of her that let her love other people. Imagine…killing the person you love and who you thought loved you. If that was me…I don’t think I could ever love again, save those in my family.” He whispered softly, a tear coming to his eye, as if he shared her pain on a personal level. I thought about it.

Killing Ricky…or Austin…or Zack…or Mike. I would die on the inside.

“I can see why she doesn’t date now.”

“Plus, I mean, who has the time? She’s not really a settle down person. She likes to be on the move, to travel and to do her job, which she loves. I understand that. It keeps her mind away from…back then. It’s her way for revenge, her way to keep busy. But I think that the part that lets her love isn’t dead. I don’t think that when she pulled the trigger, that she killed it. I think it needs time to heal, and lots of it. When she’s ready, she’ll find someone, someone she can finally trust.” And I heard the longing in his voice. He was about to add another sentence and I think I can guess it, but perhaps, it was best saved for silence, for my thoughts.

And I hope it’s me.

“But doesn’t she trust you?” I asked hopefully, trying to encourage him to let his guard down, to see more into their relationship.

“I’d like to think so. She never says it, but she doesn’t act this way around others. I’d at least like to think that I’ve earned even an ounce of whatever trust she has left to give.” He nuzzled his nose into her black hair, let out a longing sigh.

“Well, I don’t think she would let just anyone call her Squirrel.” I chuckled. He smiled, kissing the top of her head.

“No, no, she would slaughter them. I think I just got lucky.” He remembered a memory, something I couldn’t see, something far and long gone.

“Well, I might not know Zila very well, or at least not as well as you do, but I do think she trusts you. You’re very lucky, you know, to have someone who has gone through those hardships to trust you. I mean, look at her! She stops by your house and tries to make an effort to see you through her busy schedule. She’s curled up on your chest like some innocent, somewhat murderous, kind of demented in a cool way kitten!” I laughed.

He smiled, but had no answer. He just brushed her hair, not saying a word.

“And I may not know your history, Haven, but you seem like a pretty good guy, so she’s right to put any trust in you at all. You guys have a pretty good friendship.” I choked out, trying to block out their forms. I closed my eyes as the flashbacks of the boys and I sitting on a couch together, sleeping on a bed together, just being together…All of them…and I was with all of them like this at some point.

And I remembered how easily trust and love could be broken.

“Thanks, Rory. It means a lot.” Haven whispered. The silence continued until he turned The Office back on. We finished up two episodes before he shut off the screen, falling into dimness once again. A far off light was on in the kitchen, shedding some luminance.

“Are you going back to bed?” I whispered.

“Perhaps in a little. She’s surely asleep now. I’d rather her sleep in my bed because it’s more comfy than the one she sleep in upstairs when she stays with me, but she’ll kill me if I let her sleep down here.” He chuckled.

“Why?”

“Zee loves being up high, as you probably have noticed,”

Oh yes, the ceiling tiles, crawling on the roof edges, being up in the trees, all of the heights she’s scaled….

“And she always wants to be careful. That’s Zila, for you. She loves having the height advantage, so she likes to stay up on the second floor where she can look out over the balcony.” He pointed out. I nodded, keeping the silence.

“Do as you please. I did notice the other guest room up by my room. Leave her down here. She’ll be more comfortable with you on your bed.” I suggested, trying to leave it open…for suggestions of Haven staying with Zila through the night.

“You’re going up?”

“Yeah, but I have one more question.” I started. Haven stayed silent, waiting for me to ask. “Um, what does BB stand for?”

He chuckled, trying to stifle it and not wake up the rouge girl on his chest.

“Oh, it means ‘beanie boy’. It’s…it’s a long story. I’ll tell you some other time.” He assured. I started up the steps.

“Goodnight, Haven.”

“Goodnight, Rory.”

Notes

Ooooh so we get a little bit of a closer look at their relationship!!! I'd love to explain more of it to you guys, but I'm leaving that to Whorror Queen to *cough cough* GET UP THE FIRST CHAPTER OF HER STORY! *cough cough* ;)

But don't worry guys, it'll come when it'll come. You'll get to know more of them later.

Don't forget to comment what you think!