one time | hood

back home

The aeroplane ride was long. Seemed like days we were up there, just floating along in this soft and subtle fury of unnoticed speed.

Management had given us the okay. As in the "okay fine, Cal, you can have the month off to grieve but after that it's Tokyo and there's no more fucking around." It was rather harsh I will admit. The agent that I'd talked to had rolled her eyes a lot and asked forced questions about why I felt the need to take some time off. Michael had burst into the room and stared her down, throwing his hands in the air and swearing a lot. I'd kind of just sat there and sent her a lot of apologetic looks but the bastards soon gave in.

Thirty days. Thirty days of leave they'd given me. Michael had said that if I needed more it was completely fine, it's not like they'd be able to physically force me to play a show but I felt like thirty days was good. Thirty days was enough time for me to sleep and go for walks and have lunch at that pizza parlour across town. Thirty days was enough time to lay out on the balcony till four in the morning, listening to The Rolling Stones on the record player that you got from your grandad for your fourteenth birthday. Thirty days was good.

The taxi had just dropped me off outside our apartment building. The leave was rather sudden and no one was expecting us back so it was rather a nice surprise when I saw that there wasn't any fans milling about in front of our place. I let myself in, smiling kindly at Rose, the young receptionist behind the front desk before taking the elevator up.

Seventh floor. Third door on the right and I was met with apartment 7F. Home. I found myself properly smiling for the first time in months. I pushed the key into the lock and let myself in, dropping my duffle bag in the foyer before letting the door swing shut behind me.

Your mother had been over to pick up a few of your things just after you'd passed. I hadn't been in town, the boys and I had been performing in New York, I believe. But it looked as if she'd cleaned up the place. I hadn't been in here since the night of the crash. After the hospital that night I'd stayed at Luke's until your funeral, Ashton had come over to pick up my stuff for tour and we'd left the next week. It was a blessing to see that she'd picked up all those stupid fucking rose petals.

The lounge was still the same with your books all stacked neatly on the shelf and I found myself running my fore finger along the spines before dropping back onto the couch. The room was calm and cool with its high ceilings and white walls and I looked over to the sliding doors across the room, catching sight of the long navy curtains that hung down to the floor. I stood and walked over to them, pushing them back and squinting my eyes a little from the large amount of light that spilled into the room. I flicked open the lock on the balcony door and pushed it open, the cold breeze hitting me in a surprisingly peaceful way.

I was home. I was standing in the one place that I'd dreaded coming back to for the past few months. And I felt closure. I felt so much fucking closure, Jay.

Because the memories that I thought would've caused pain were making me feel good.

And I remembered the way that we once made out on the floor of the balcony with the cold concrete ground against my back. And I remembered how we'd once sat on that ugly fucking leather couch and argued about which movie to watch. And I remembered how I'd tried to teach you to play guitar in our bedroom, with you sitting cross legged all wrapped up in the covers. And how we'd once fucked in the bathtub and flooded the bathroom floor with soapy water. And how I'd taught you how to make banana pancakes in the kitchen because you couldn't cook for shit. And I remembered and it was beautiful.

And that was it, Jay. That was just it. I needed to come back to the place that I thought was the worst and see that in reality it was the best place for me to be right now. Because I was standing on that balcony, looking out over the city that we'd met in and lived together in for all those years. And the apartment behind me was my home and it was your home and we'd made it our home.

And I just started thinking about everything, Jay. With my head hanging over the edge of that balcony and my feet slightly pulled up off the ground and my hands gripping onto the cold metal rail for dear life.

And I was thinking about Luke and how quiet he was. About how he never really spoke his mind though he was thinking twenty-four seven. How he would support someone even if he'd only met them ten seconds before. How he was so fucking oblivious to the good that he brought out in people.

And Michael who was so goddamn talented it scared me sometimes. And he was so underestimated, not only by people but by himself and how he needed to come out of his shell and realise how remarkable of a person he really was.

And Ashton. So fucking humble and shit, it made me feel sick sometimes, the way that he'd smile and make you instantly have a good day. The way that he'd brought you into my life like a blitz attack. And I didn't regret it for one moment.

The tears that I'd shed because of this relationship, the curse words that I'd muttered under my breath, the curse words that I'd screamed out loud, all of the times that we'd fought, it was all worth it. It was all worth those three years that we'd had together. And it may have only been three years, but those years were filled with some of the most memorable days of my life.

And I was thinking about me. About how I'd tried to forget you and failed. About those days that I'd felt the tears starting to well up in my eyes and I'd just willed them to go away. Those days that I spent silently listening and never talking, just thinking about you the entire time.

Most of all I was thinking about you, Jay. Not only about how beautiful you were but about how you'd laugh at everything and cry about nothing. How you'd sigh and push your hair back. How you'd press kisses the nape of my neck whenever I needed to wake up early. How you'd watch movies with this wide eyed look that reminded me of a toddler. How you'd bite the corner of your lip, turning it an even brighter cherry red than normal.

How you weren't here.

And it was okay. I think I was finally okay. Because for the first time in months I was thinking about you and I was smiling. And my plan in the morning wasn't to sleep in as late as I could, it was to wake up at five am, walk down to the waterfront and watch the sun rise. Maybe grab a coffee from O'Malley's diner. Meet up with the boys and write some songs. I don't know.

The point being that I wasn't forgetting you, Jay, I'm remembering you in the most beautiful way that I can. In the way that you'd wake up too early and want to do cheesy shit like watch the sun rise and buy bad coffee from the diner with the sticky tables but those memories were you. They were real and raw and worth remembering just like you. And the last thing that I was going to forget was something as invigorating and as remarkable as Jaydyn Cartwright.

Because Ashton was right, out of all the goddamn experiences that I'd had in life you were by far the best thing that'd ever happened to me.

And I couldn't just forget someone like you, Jay. No way in hell was it possible to forget someone like you.

FIN