The Irony of Your Perfection (An Asking Alexandria Fan Fiction)

Chapter One

I’m starting to think that maybe there’s nothing you can really count on.

“I love you, Az,” he’d said as I moved my bare legs away from the tangled sheets.

“I love you too,” I’d replied, and I’d meant it. I really had.

After that we’d said it more and more often, until it held more meaning than even we ourselves could comprehend.

And then he was gone.

“I’m sorry, Az,” Danny would say, and he would sit down beside me and rub my back.

“Me too,” I would reply, and I would mean it. I really would. And I would try to stop myself from thinking that I never wanted to hear anyone call me ‘Az’ again, because that was something that only he did.

I try not to overthink it. He was there, and now he’s not. It’s simple, so why can’t I wrap my head around it?

Sometimes I walk into my flat and expect to see him smiling up at me, strumming a few chords on his bass guitar. Sometimes I think I catch a glimpse of the light brown hair and baby blue eyes that are eternally etched into my mind, filling that delicate place in the heart that forever holds onto the memory of your first love.

Some memories have faded already, though it’s only been a week. Sometimes I find myself thinking about what I want to study when I go to college in a few months, but it’s hard not to think about how I’d always tell people I wanted to be a doctor when in reality I’d known that I wanted to be Azalea Lancaster and that I’d be happy with whatever came my way after that.

When I wake up it’s always to check if he’s beside me again. It’s hard to open your eyes when you know you’ll be faced with disappointment just like every other morning, but I drag through it because I have to.

I’m not the only one affected. The guys are mad. They don’t understand Joe’s motives for leaving the band, and I won’t pretend that I understand either. But I try to. I try to understand because I don’t want to believe that it was just another of his spur-of-the-moment decisions.

So I sit in the RV smoking pot with the boys and try not to think about it. I don’t like being high; I really don’t, but it’s better to be numb and almost happy than to constantly be wondering. Because wondering is what makes it hurt most.

“I’ve got the munchies,” says Ben, who’s got his arm around Cameron’s shoulders.

Cam nods and coughs a bit.

I hand Ben the bag of goldfish crackers I’ve been snacking on for the past half hour. Bloodshot gaze meets bloodshot gaze as I open my mouth and Ben pops a cracker inside.

I chew on it slowly and Danny lights a cigarette. The small space becomes even hazier and I blink a few times. All I can think of is how the people managed to turn so many goldfish into crackers.

“Do they make people crackers, too?” I ask nobody in particular.

Danny looks at me, and I think maybe he’s worried. He shouldn’t be, though, because even if they tried I’d never let them turn me into a people cracker.

“You’ve had a lot,” says Danny. I can’t remember if he’s had any pot but I hope he has. It makes him funny.

I shrug. “It’s okay.”

“I need a breath of fresh air,” says Ben, and he grabs my hand and pulls me out of the RV. When I look up, all of the stars are staring down at me. I wish they would stop. I put my middle fingers up at the sky and hope they take the hint.

Ben and I sit down with our backs against the RV. The black and white squares on his checked shirt hurt my eyes. He hands me the rest of the goldfish and that’s when I start to cry.