What's So Good About Picking Up the Pieces?

Mike's P.O.V:

"Hi," I muttered, not really knowing what to say. Her eyes remained fixated on the dirt for a while. She took a drag off of her cigarette before looking back up at me.

"What do you want Mike?" Her voice was cold and emotionless; I didn't blame her.

"Can we talk, Lyla?" I asked timidly. Her body tensed up and I could tell she didn't want anything to do with me. Part of me knew I should just leave her alone, but I couldn't, not this time. She finally shrugged her shoulders, taking a final inhale before putting her cigarette out on the ground. I reached my hand out to help her up, but she ignored it and pushed herself up off of the ground, brushing at her shorts as she did so.

She turned and walked to the door of the bus, opening it and ducking inside, leaving the door open for me to follow. I did, shutting the door when I made it inside. She grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and sat on the couch on the far wall. I took a seat at the small table directly across from her, not wanting to encroach too much.

I watched her intensely as she took a big drink of her water bottle. If she noticed me staring, which I'm sure she did, she didn't let on. She replaced the cap on the bottle, tossing it next to her on the couch before pulling her knees up to her chest; I couldn't help but smile a little: that was her nervous habit. She used to do that all the time, and seeing her do it now showed me that the girl I used to know was still in there. She noticed me smirk and averted her gaze to the ground.

We sat in silence for a little longer. I was the one who wanted to talk; I needed to say something, I just didn't know where to start.

"Where did you go, Lyla? You just left without saying goodbye and I never heard from you again," I spat out quickly, saying the first thing that popped into my head, the question that I had always wanted to know.

She was quiet for a while; she let out a big sigh before she spoke. I was expecting yelling, that's what I deserved after all, but she spoke calmly, quietly.

"I moved to L.A." she said bluntly. All those years she was so close and I never knew it. She finally looked at me, our eyes meeting momentarily. "I modeled for a while, saving up money so I could eventually do what I really wanted to....." she trailed off.

"Photography?" I questioned. I saw a small smile play at her lips and she shook her head. I smiled back at her.

She had been into photography as long as I had known her, and she was amazing. It made me happy to know that she was still doing what she loved, even after everything. I couldn't help but feel sad, though; we were sitting here, barely talking, and it seemed like we were strangers meeting for the first time, which in a way we kinda were.

"I met Austin last year and he invited me on tour to take some photo's of the band and the tour and everything," I heard her sweet voice, pulling me out of my thoughts.

"Are you and Austin.....together?" I asked. She shook her head.

"No. He's my.....best friend," she bit her bottom lip as she hesitated. Hearing her say that almost broke my heart. That used to be me. I didn't deserve that title anymore and I knew that, but it still hurt.

I looked at her seeing a trace of tears in her eyes. She started to subconsciously scratch at her wrist as she looked around the room. I furrowed my brows and as I stared I caught a glimpse of her wrist.....it was covered in scars. My heart dropped, and before I knew what I was doing I had stood up and moved over to her, sitting next to her, grabbing her wrist.

I looked up at her. "Lyla....." i mumbled, not able to say anything else, not sure of what to even say. She started to say something, but suddenly her demeanor changed. She ripped her wrist out of my grasp and stood up.

"Mike, don't......don't act like you care, okay? I don't need your sympathy, and I sure as hell don't want it." She was yelling, her voice angrier than I had ever heard it. "You should go." she stated matter of factly.

"Lyla, I don't want to." Suddenly everything was spilling out of me; I couldn't hold it back. "Do you have any idea how much I've missed you? How much I've thought about you over the years? I tried calling you, tried finding you. You were my best friend, and you just up and left. I know you were shattered but that's what I was for, Lyla! He may have told you that he stopped caring, but I certainly never did." My voice was loud and I echoed through the bus. I looked at her, her eyes wide open in surprise at my sudden outburst.

"Lyla, I'm sorry I didn't mean to yell I just-" I trailed off, glancing at the floor before looking back at her. Her eyes welled up with tears. I couldn't help myself; I got up and walked to her, pulling her in a tight hug. I towered over her short frame. I soon felt her wrap her arms around me, burying her face in my chest, sobbing quietly. I rubbed her back.

"I missed you Lyla," I whispered.

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Lyla's P.O.V:

Mike and I sat in the bus, talking for hours, catching up on the last 7 years. He told me about the band, sidestepping talking about Vic, which I was thankful for....I wasn't ready for that one yet. I still hadn't forgiven Mike, but I would eventually.

I found out that he has a girlfriend who he has been dating for a little over 2 years. He also does a little rapping on the side, which earned a chuckle from me when he told me that.

I had really missed him. He talked about Tony and Jaime, who seemed really cool. I told him about my modeling experiences and my photography and I talked about Austin a little bit, leaving out certain parts that need not be repeated.

He never asked if I dated at all, probably afraid I would think about Vic, which I was doing anyway but I didn't tell him that.

"So.....black hair, huh?" he asked. I shook my head, laughing a little.

"Yeah. I went through this angry phase where I wanted to rebel against my old self so I dyed my hair and got my nose pierced. After that phase ended I decided I actually liked it so I kept it. It suited the new me."

"I see you got a few tattoos as well." This earned a loud laugh from me. I used to hate tattoos when I was younger and I swore I would never get one.

"Yeahhhhhh.......well. People change," I said. We talked about my tattoos, I had 15 in total: 5 on my arms, 2 on my legs, 4 on my back, and 4 on my ribs, and we talked about his as well. It felt like we were strangers meeing for the first time, getting to know each other. In a way that's what it was. He never brought up the scars on my wrist, which I was grateful for. I wasn't ready to cross that bridge yet either.

He was telling me a little more about Pierce the Veil when I heard a light knock at the door before it swung open.

"Hey, Mike you there? Kellin said he saw you walk over here a few hours ago." An all too familiar voice said as a man walked into the bus. Mike looked over first, my gaze following. My eyes found the eyes of the man, who's face went pale as he noticed me. I felt like I was going to throw up.

It was Vic.