sold my soul to the open road

On and on, reckless abandon. Something’s wrong, this is gonna shock them.

I groaned, stirred from sleep by Tom Delonge’s voice streaming from my phone, signifying that Alex was calling me. I craned my neck to look at my alarm clock. 2:38 am.

I was already cursing him out in my mind as I reached for my phone. “To what do I owe the displeasure, Gaskarth?”

“Shay! Shaaaa-hic-aaayyy,” Alex slurred jovially. I could practically smell the alcohol on his breath through the phone. Oh boy.

“Where are you, Lex?” I asked, reluctantly emerging from the warm cocoon of blankets in my bed.

“Shayayayay, ya know what’s sso good?”

I sighed, awkwardly trying to pull on a pair of sweatpants with one hand. “What?”

“Fi-fireb… it’ss starts wi fireb-...”

“Fireball?”

“Thassit!” he exclaimed. “Shaaay, you’re so smarrrt. Howdyou get so smart?”

“I don’t know, buddy,” I said as I shoved my feet into a pair of shoes. I couldn’t help but smile at his drunken ramblings, feeling a stupid amount of affection swelling in my chest. He could be unbelievably adorable even when he was trashed. I hated him for it.

“Oh! Tha remines me,” he said as I grabbed a hoodie from my closet, doubling back a moment later to grab a second one for Alex, in case his drunken antics had included him shedding items of clothing, as they had many a time before. “Come haaang out! Mmm at the playgroun.”

“Already on my way,” I said, my phone wedged between my cheek and my shoulder as I opened my window and deftly slipped out onto the roof. “Don’t go anywhere, okay?”

“Waddever yyou saaaay babe.”

I winced as I heard the line click, like I always did when he called me that. Alex had a habit of being overly affectionate when he was drunk, and if I was around, that affection was hyper-focused on me. I knew it didn’t mean anything; the affection wasn’t anything more than friendly—loving, but not in a romantic way.

That only made it hurt more.

When I was a block away from the playground, I heard Alex singing a Good Charlotte song at the top of his lungs. When I got there, I found him sprawled out on the ground, shirtless.
Called it.

“You sound good.” I tossed the spare hoodie I brought at him as I leaned against the monkey bars, smirking at the vague, unfocused expression on his face. “Anyone ever tell you you should start a band?”

“Shay!” Alex said happily, sitting up. He frowned at the hoodie in his lap. “Waas this?”

“A hoodie. You should put it on before you get hypothermia,” I said, my breath turning to steam as it mingled with the February air.

He nodded vaguely, eyeing the sweatshirt for a moment like it was some sort of strange animal, before he picked it up and pulled it on. Well, he tried to pull it on. He struggled with it for about 45 seconds, eventually getting his head stuck in one of the sleeves. “Wha happenened?”

I bit back a laugh and kneeled in front of him. I pulled the sleeve off his head and helped him get it on right. “There you go. Now I think we need to get you home.”

“No!” He slammed his fists down on the mulch like a toddler and shook his head vehemently. “We’re havin funnnn,” he slurred, pointing at me dramatically. “Shaaaaay’s havin fuuuuuun.”

“Yeah, well, I think you’ve had a little bit too much fun for one night, Lex.”

He sputtered. “Pssshh, y-hic-yyou don know what you’re talkin about. Mfine,” he said, attempting to push himself up on his feet, but he fell back almost immediately with a cry of pain and several choice expletives.

“What?” I asked, confused, until my eyes landed on his left ankle, which was swollen to nearly twice it’s size. My eyes widened. “Christ Alex. What the hell happened?”

He frowned, following my eyes to the most likely broken appendage. “Huh. Wonner where that came from.”

I groaned, pinching the bridge of my nose as Alex laid back down, continuing his rendition of Lifestyles of the Rich and the Famous. “Alex,” I said firmly, grabbing his forearm and pulling him back up into a sitting position, “what happened?”

His eyes narrowed, his lips puckering ridiculously, as he was clearly trying hard to remember. “I, I had ta leaf the party cause apparenly I was ‘too drunk,’ then I came here cause…” He trailed off, eyebrows drawing together. After a few moments, he shook his head and continued, “I was on the monkey bars, but then I wasn’t anymore all a sudden an I was down here.” He looked at the mulch with apprehension, as if just realizing it was there. “Weird grass.”

“Dude, I’m pretty sure your ankle is broken. Do you seriously not feel that?” He just shrugged. “Jesus Alex, how much did you drink?”

He hesitated, blowing air out of his mouth dramatically. “Hadunno,” he said, eyes wandering. “I was playyyyyying beer pong for a while.” I cringed; Alex was terrible at beer pong. “Nnd then Na-hic-nano got me ta do shots of Fireball with mm.”

“How many did you do?”

He hesitated as he tried to remember. It looked like hard work. “I think five I think.”

Fucking hell. “Alright. I’m taking you to the hospital,” I said definitively, getting to my feet.

But Alex grabbed my arm and pulled me back down, shaking his head emphatically. “Nononono, I cannnt go to the hospital.”

“Why not?”

“Cause,” he paused, looking around dramatically and motioning for me to come closer, and when I obliged he continued, whispering, “I’m a-kinda drunk.”

Jesus. “Yeah, I know. Drunk enough that you’re a danger to yourself, apparently,” I said, pointing to his ankle. He opened his mouth to say something else but I continued first. “Alex, your ankle is broken, and the longer you wait to get it fixed up the worse it’s gonna get. We’re going to the hospital.”

But he just kept shaking his head and crossed his arms defiantly. He looked not unlike a picture of five-year-old him that was sitting on the coffee table in his family’s house. If it wasn’t so late and he wasn’t literally broken, I would’ve found the whole thing very funny.

“Alex, it’s not like I’m gonna take you to the police station. You’re not gonna get in trouble, but you are gonna wake up in the morning in a lot more pain than just your average hangover if we don’t go, so c’mon.” I got to my feet again and grabbed his arm, attempting to pull him to his feet, but he was as stubborn as ever, and I couldn’t lift 175 pounds of dead weight on my own. “Alex, seriously,” I sighed, exasperated. “Get up. Please.”

“But Shaaaaaaaay,” he whined, resisting.

“Alex, no.”

“Shay. Shay.”

“What?!” I groaned, my exasperation morphing into frustration. But Alex just kept looking at me, and repeating my name as if I hadn’t spoken at all.

“Shay. Shay. Shay. Shay?”

“Huh?” I was pulled from my thoughts by Beck’s hand on my shoulder. I snapped my eyes up to his. “Sorry, what?”

“Graham asked how you know Alex,” said Beck, eyeing me with a mix of confusion and concern.

“Oh,” I said stupidly, internally scrambling for an explanation. “We, um, we—”

“We were friends in high school,” Alex interjected. It was directed at Graham but he was looking at me, eyes heavy with an emotion I couldn’t identify. For the first time in my life, I had no idea what he was thinking.

Much like it had with Rian earlier that morning, it felt like we were both waiting for the other to blink first. And while I wanted to, while I had a million things I’d been waiting to say to him for four years, it all went out the window when I looked at him.

At first glance, he looked pretty much the same: same 6’4” stature, same brown eyes, same button nose, same perpetual 5 o’clock shadow on the same jawline that was still sharp enough to cut glass. But if you looked closer—which I always did—there were little differences.

His hair was longer, and he’d lost the blonde streaks, returning to his natural chestnut brown color. He had a tattoo on the inside of his left forearm of a skeleton wearing a skeleton costume; I couldn’t help but smile at the Alex of it. He had also filled out somewhat, not a ton, just barely enough to notice. His shoulders were broader; his arms were a little bit bulkier. He wasn’t the lanky teenager he used to be. He’d grown up.

I couldn’t tell you why, but the fact that I hadn’t been there to see it caused a ripping sensation in my chest.

I knew, of course, that I chose not to be there. I hadn’t wanted to be there, and I still didn’t, but something about it didn’t feel right.

“Seriously? Oh my god, how come you never told us?” asked Graham.

“I don’t know,” I said, tearing my eyes away from Alex’s. “It never really came up.”

“You never told them about us?” asked Alex. I thought I saw hurt flash across his face for a moment, but it was gone faster than it had appeared.

I shrugged. “Like I said, it never came up.”

“Guys what the hell are you doing?”

The hits just kept on coming.

“Your soundcheck slot started two minutes ago,” said Matt Flyzik, appearing behind the rest of the guys, clipboard in hand, “what’s the—oh.” He cut himself off when he looked at me, eyes wide in shock.

That seemed to be the popular response.

“Shay! It’s so great to see you!”

I was taken completely aback when Matt pushed through Alex, Jack, Rian, and Zack and hugged me. Despite my surprise however, I returned the pressure of the hug. “It’s great to see you too, Matty.”

I don’t know why it happened. Maybe it was the culmination of everything that had happened in the last seven hours, maybe it was because Matt had always given really great hugs and that was one of the few things that had not changed, or maybe it was because of the way Alex was looking at me, but for whatever reason, I started crying.

“Hey, woah, what’s wrong?” Matt asked, his eyebrows furrowed, although he was still smiling. “Did I squeeze too hard?”

I laughed. It was funny, exactly like something he would say, but it just made me want to cry harder. “No, no I’m fine,” I said weakly, hurriedly wiping my tears away.

“No you’re not, Shay. You’re crying,” said Beck.

I shook my head. “No, really, I’m okay. I just need some water. Excuse me.”

Ignoring the confused looks from my bandmates, I walked away with my head down. I walked at a calm, normal pace out of the backstage area and down the ramp until I was out of sight, and then I started running.

I didn’t stop until I got back to the bus corral, bumping into numerous crew and band members along the way. I collapsed, my back hitting the asphalt none-too-kindly, although I didn’t notice on account of the fact that I was in the middle of a full-blown, bonafide panic attack. My breathing was coming up shorter and shallower and I was shaking like a leaf as silent sobs wracked my body. Even though it was ninety something degrees out that day and I was lying on black asphalt, I felt cold.

At some point in the midst of my hysteria, my sobs transformed into laughs. Something about the situation had suddenly struck me as funny, and I couldn’t stop laughing. It was funny, really, how what was supposed to be the best summer of my life had been ruined in a record seven hours. Honestly, it was comical how the one person who used to know me better than anyone else in the world had just looked at me like I was a stranger. It was fucking hilarious.

I’m not sure how long I laid there cackling before he came up to me. “Shay?”

I looked up at Alex, who was looking down at me a little bit like I was crazy. “Oh, Alex,” I said, attempting to reign in my laughing and getting to my feet. After three tries. “What are you doing here? I thought you were soundchecking?”

Alex frowned. “That ended almost half an hour ago,” he said, his head cocking only slightly to the left. “Are you sure you’re feeling okay?”

“I’m great,” I said. “Fantastic. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You were crying earlier, when you ran off, and I could tell you were upset about something.” He had that look—a look I’d seen on his face countless times before—a look of comforting concern. Four years ago it would’ve comforted me. Now I just wanted to punch it off.

“Alex, I’m fine.” His name felt strange in my mouth. “I wasn’t crying. I’ve just got allergies or something,” I said, turning to walk back to my bus.

“No you’re not,” he pushed.

I stopped mid-step and spun back around to face him. The empathy and intuition I always used to love about him was now rubbing me every wrong way possible. “What makes you so sure?” I asked, a hint of defiance behind my words.

“You think I don’t know one of your panic attacks?” he said, taking a step towards me. “Your knees were shaking, your ears turned bright red, and you got that little crease between your eyebrows.” There was a smallest trace of a smile on his lips as he spoke. It made my fingers twitch.

“Okay, fine. Maybe I was a little overwhelmed earlier,” I said. “That still doesn’t tell me what you’re doing here.”

I was being a bit of a bitch, but I didn’t care. I never got to do this. I never got to yell or fight with him. And I sure as hell felt like I deserved it.

Alex frowned, eyebrows drawing together in a way that was so familiar it stung. “I just wanted to see if you’re okay, if you need any help.”

My hands curled into fists. He wanted to help? I smiled bitterly and said, jaw clenched, “I don’t need your help. I’ve had plenty of panic attacks over the last four years that I dealt with fine without you, so thanks, but no thanks.”

I turned on my heel and started walking away, but I didn’t get far before Alex caught up and stood in front of me, blocking my path. Damn him and his long legs.

“Hold on a sec,” he said, his concern morphing into something less nice. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

I exhaled slowly, willing myself to not yell. I was tired, and strung out. And unreasonably sweaty. I didn’t have the energy for this fight right now.

Plus, the longer I was around Alex, the more my conviction slipped.

“Nothing,” I said flatly, flashing a smile that didn’t reach the rest of my face. “It didn’t mean anything. Nothing I’ve ever said has ever meant anything, really.”

“That was not nothing, and that is so not your ‘nothing’ face,” he said, crossing his arms. His eyes bore into mine with something I’d only seen on his face a few times, and had never been directed at me: anger.

For what felt like the millionth time in the last twenty-four hours, I faltered. “Um, I—”

“You wanna talk about the last four years, Shay?” he said defiantly. “Great. Because I’ve got plenty to say. We can talk about how you bailed on our plans, or how you left, without so much as a fucking goodbye.”

My anger, which had been temporarily scared away, was slowly returning to me as Alex spoke, tearing me apart for leaving as if he did nothing to deserve it, as if he was an innocent victim in all of it. As if his betrayal wasn’t what drove me away in the first place.

My fingers started to twitch again.

“Oh, I’m sorry, you wanted a goodbye?” I said, my voice even, but dark. “You really thought you deserved one? Are we really gonna act like you had nothing to do with me leaving?”

“What the hell are you talking about?!” Alex exclaimed, practically shouting now. If the situation was different, I would’ve thought the confusion on his face was genuine.

“I’m talking about you fucking Li—”

“Um, guys?”

I spun around at the sound of a new, third voice, and found Jack, Zack, and Rian, along with Graham, Beckett, and Lawson, all looking at Alex and I with slightly stunned expressions, my bandmates more stunned than the others. I shifted nervously, feeling small under their scrutiny.
The air felt oddly still after Alex’s and my brief but intense outburst, as an awkward, horrible silence settled over the eight of us. I wrung my hands to keep them and myself steady and let out a shaky breath, staring at a stain on my shoe.

“What’s going on, guys?” asked Rian finally, looking back and forth between Alex and me.

“Nothing,” we spoke at the same time.

“You sure?” said Lawson, clearly not convinced.

I nodded. “Just old friends catching up,” I said, plastering a smile on my face, and earning a scoff from Alex.

“Yeah, well, I’ve got somewhere I need to be, so.” Alex stalked off back in the direction of the stages, bumping his shoulder none-to-gently against mine in what I’m sure was (not) an accident. I winced.

“I think I’ll uh, go with him,” said Rian, running after him.

Zack, who never handled conflict or tension well, mumbled something about going to work out, and slunk off to their bus, leaving just me, my bandmates, and Jack.

Lawson, bless him, looked back and forth between Jack and me a few times then cleared his throat, getting the attention of Graham and Beck. “We should probably get going, too.”

Graham, seemingly oblivious to any and all tension present, asked, “Why?”

“You know, we have that, that thing,” said Lawson, looking at Graham pointedly.

“But Blake said we were free for the rest of the—ow!” Lawson smacked him upside the head and looked at him with wide eyes, jerking his head in my direction, then Jack’s. Graham frowned back and forth between the two of us for a few moments, and then finally seemed to get it.

The two of them left in the direction of the bus, but Beck lingered for a moment more. He looked at me for a second, brow furrowed in concern, and mouthed you okay? I nodded, and he gave me one last sympathetic smile before following Lawson and Graham.

Jack, too busy making every attempt to avoid making eye contact with me, had missed the interactions between my bandmates and me. He stood with his fists shoved deep in his pockets, and his eyes were looking anywhere but me.

If it was possible, it seemed like Jack Barakat had gotten even taller and lankier than when we were in high school. Like Alex, he too had abandoned his bleached hair for his natural, jet black locks, which, instead of sitting on his head in a mop-like flop, were shorter and spiked up in all directions. The biggest change, however, was the cubic zirconia stud in his left earlobe. I smiled; it suited him.

Looking at him, standing only five feet away in all his Jack-ness, I should’ve been happy. I should’ve been out of my mind with excitement. But as I watched him idly kick a piece of gravel around with his Converse-clad toe, I felt an aching sadness creep in.

Out of all the people I left, I hadn’t missed any of them nearly as much as I missed Jack. The friendship I had with Jack was unlike what I had with anyone else in our group.

Danny, Vinny, Grieco, and Nano were all good friends; we got along great and always had loads of fun, but I was never very close with any of them.

Then there was Zack, who I loved, but, because he lived far away and didn’t go to the same school as the rest of us, I never got to see outside of the context of band practice. And because of his quiet nature, we never were as close as I’d wanted.

Rian and I were close enough, but he was always so busy. Whether it was the band or school or family, he was always caught up in something, and we never spent as much time together as I’d wanted.

And then, of course, there was Alex. As my best friend, he knew me better than most, and was the one I was closest with, but at the same time, there was this whole part of me that I had to hide from him. And, if I was being honest, Alex and I were never just friends. There was always something more there, always something making it complicated.

But with Jack, it was simple. I never had to hide anything. Jack knew everything there was to know about Shay Walker and, especially when Alex and Lisa started getting closer, he was the one I spent the most time with. We were sort of the same person, just in two different bodies. Being around Jack was natural. It was easy. I didn’t have to worry about if I was being obvious or if Lisa would show up, or anything. He made me laugh, and he could make me forget about everything else that was wrong in my life. He always knew what to say to make me feel better.

Losing Jack hurt nearly as much as it did to lose Alex, and I missed him a hell of a lot more.

After waiting another minute for him to look at me, I decided to be the one to break the silence. “Hey Jack-o.”

He finally looked at me, and the expression on his face cut through me like a knife. His eyes were cold, sullen, and bitter. He didn’t say a word; his mouth remained a tight, straight line. I’d never known Jack to have nothing to say, and his silence was unnerving.

“It’s good to see you,” I probed, hoping for something—a reaction—but there was nothing. He just kept staring at me, through me, with that stony gaze. I felt myself grow smaller and smaller under it as the seconds passed. “I missed y—”

“Don’t,” he said suddenly, quiet but harsh. “You don’t get to say that.”

“Jack, I’m—”

“You don’t get to stand there and say that you missed me, like it hasn’t been four years. Like it’s fine.”

“I know it’s not fine, Jack,” I said lamely.

“No, you don’t know,” he exclaimed, louder now. “Because you weren’t there, Shay. You left.” His voice broke on the word ‘left,’ and I felt like someone punched me in the chest.

I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t have anything to say. There was nothing I could say to make it better. I had hurt him badly—that was becoming very clear—but I had never meant for that.

“Jack, I don’t know—”

“Are you even sorry?”

“Of course I am,” I said, and I felt tears welling for the second time that day. “I regretted leaving you from the moment I stepped on the plane to Boston.” I paused, taking a deep breath to keep my composure. “Your friendship meant the world to me, Jack, you have to know that. Leaving it behind hurt me more than I know how to say.” It was a statement, although I felt like I was pleading with him. “I never, never, wanted to hurt you.”

“Yeah, well that’s too damn bad, because you did.” The way he was looking at me made me want to throw up. “You hurt me, you hurt Alex, you hurt everyone, Shay."

Notes

yikes, Jack, that was pretty harsh. seems like he might not know the whole story, huh?

once again, sorry this took so damn long, one of these days I'm gonna start writing regularly again, I promise

enjoy! and please feel free to drop a comment below. I live for feedback lol