"A Sanctuary Safe and Strong"(Marianas Trench)

Chapter 56

It wasn't until Josh spoke his name, low and gently that Matt realized his eyes were damp. He knew how much the singer meant to him, how close the two were, how much of their lives had been spent together, and he couldn't imagine it any differently, didn't want to imagine it any differently. It physically ached to put himself in Josh's shoes, to imagine where he'd been, to try to feel what he felt. It had only been a couple of minutes by Matt's estimation, but the brunet felt like he'd just spent a lifetime being ripped apart from the inside out, just thinking about what Josh had been put through. 

"Dude, hey, it's okay," Josh said, reaching out to wrap his fingers around Matt's arm, pulling the brunet from the mental state that he still didn't know if he even wanted to try to shake. Somehow everything that had just gone on inside his head made the whole situation that much more real and much closer to the heart than it was before, not that he hadn't seen and felt the devastation all along. Now it was just...heart breaking and terrifying in a multitude of new ways that he couldn't even begin to describe. "What the fuck is this all about? Talk to me, Matt." 

Matt sniffed hard and couldn't help but smile just a little at the irony. Josh was really one to expect someone else to talk about a problem. He huffed and ducked his head as he felt the blond's right hand move from his arm to clasp him around the back of the neck and gradually ease him forward, leaning closer to the brunet to meet Matt halfway. The guitarist's forehead connected softly with Josh's shoulder and his hands automatically reached up to clutch at the sides of singer's shirt. "You can't die, you know? You can't," Matt barely whispered, feeling incredibly selfish for the toll Josh's accident was taking on him and for being self-centered enough to admit it out loud. First at the hospital, now here... This was all about Josh, goddamnit, not him. He had to pull himself together, but he couldn't. "You're not the only one falling apart, Josh." 

The blond's free arm slid easily around Matt without hesitation. The band, as a whole, and Matt in particular weren't exactly what anyone would call emotional, nor were they touchy-feely people. Sure, as performers they were sort of required to be all of that while on stage and when they were with fans, but they weren't necessarily that way with one another, but this incident with Josh seemed to have changed things. They'd hugged each other more and seemed to be more apt to break down in front of, then physically comfort one another more so now than ever before. While it was somewhat new for the pair, neither of them seemed to shy away from it. 

"Hey," Josh spoke quietly, tightening his grip on the back of Matt's neck by a fraction, "is that because of me? 'Cause if it is, I'm alive, Matt. Do you get that?" 

The brunet nodded against the blond's shoulder. He hadn't actually cried this time, but he was still close, though hearing Josh's voice reiterate the fact that he truly was still living helped to curb that a bit. "I know," he mumbled into the fabric. This whole thing had completely shifted gears somewhere. He'd shown up to save the singer from...what, he didn't know, but now here he was coming a bit unraveled again, himself. It had to be the lack of sleep, the alcohol he'd consumed at the wedding, the long days, the longer nights, the worrying about Josh, the continual extreme rise and fall of adrenaline and the harsh crash that always followed that had him sniffling about something that was so much worse in his imagination than it had really been. 

Matt felt Josh slide his right hand from his neck to the back of his head and pull away slowly, forcing the brunet to sit up again, raising his hand to wipe at his eyes. The singer's left hand slipped away from the younger man's body and his fingers wrapped around the guitarist's bicep as he spoke. "Matt, look at me." 

The brunet dragged his gaze from his lap up into Josh's eyes. "I'm fine," Josh repeated as sincerely and firmly as he could. "You fuckin' believe that, dude. I'm fine." The blond shook Matt once, gently, as if that would drive the point home that much quicker. 

As much as Matt wanted to believe it, he knew differently. No, Josh wasn't fine. He might've been alive, but he sure as hell wasn't "fine". Shoving Josh's arms aside, Matt pushed himself to his feet and took a couple of steps back, sniffing once more as the tears that had originally been dampening his lashes but falling no further now traced thin lines down his cheeks. The singer wasn't nearly as okay as he wanted Matt to think. "But you're not, man! You're not! Shit... You're not even sleeping anymore." 

"I am!" Josh protested, raising a hand to point at the couch. "A little." 

"Yeah, until you have a nightmare after about an hour and give it up completely. I saw you tonight, man. I saw you. I know what you're dealing with. You just told me! And you...," Matt paused to swipe a hand under his nose and wipe his palm across the seat of his pants. "You said... You were right. It was scary as fuck, Josh. You were still asleep...or...something...and you kept screaming that 'it was killing' you, whatever "it" is. And it is, Josh. It fucking is. Whatever it is, it's really killing you." He sniffed again hard and fruitlessly brushed his now shaking hands across his face, but it didn't help. The tears continued to come.  

"God," Matt huffed in annoyance with himself, more than anything else. He didn't want to break apart like this, but there he was, standing in front of the one person he was trying to help and whimpering like a baby. 

"No. No it's not. I'm sorry, Matt," Josh said, staring down at his hands as he twisted the black ring he wore on his right ring finger. "I didn't mean anything by it. It was just a dream, you know? It was the dream and the lack of sleep. I didn't mean what I said. I was fucking out of my mind. You get that, don't you?" 

"I know it was a dream! Don't you fucking think I know that? It was just a dream this time." Matt flung his arms out to his sides, letting them fall back down to his sides, hands slapping against his hips. "But what about next time? What about the phone call earlier? You still haven't made any sense of that. Explain to me why you called to tell me you were dead, asking me to help you, practically begging me to tell you that you still exist, that you're still here, still alive. Tell me, Ramsay! Tell me."