I Can't Explain

The Moon of My Life

Keith's leg was bobbing up and down like crazy. It was only 9:30, he had been sober for 9 hours, and I could tell he was seriously craving alcohol. He kept looking at Pete's room longingly (I gave all our alcohol to Pete; Gee, think Pete's having fun?). Keith was trying his best to hide his anxiety, but it wasn't working.

I sat down and handed Keith a bowl of pretzels. I gently put a hand on his knee, half to reassure him, half because him twitching his leg was annoying as hell.

"Come on, lets make it til midnight, then you can sleep and you'll feel better in the morning." I say, trying to make Keith feel better.

"It won't be better, it'll be worse."

"No, you'll get through this. I've seen too many kids at school destroy themselves with alcohol, and I don't wanna see you go through the same. And Ill be here with you, every step of the way." I patted Keith's knee. I don't think I convinced him, but at least I told him.

The next morning, Keith had gone a whole 20 hours without drinking. He was a nervous wreck, and kept glaring at Pete, since he had traded the liquor off to Roger, and who knows where it is now.

All through breakfast, Keith fiddled, drumming a beat with his fingers, tapping his foot. I never knew someone could go through withdrawl this quickly. I gave him some asprin, but I doubted it would work. I didn't know much about alcoholism, I knew that there were drugs you could take, particularly one called Heminevrin, but I had heard it was extremely addictive.

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*Christmas, 1964*

Keith went almost three weeks before taking a drink. That was his record. Thankfully, the most he ever drank was half a bottle of vodka (it seems like a lot, but this is Keith we're talking about). This Christmas, he was about to break three weeks, but last night he almost drowned in egg nog.

I woke up on Christmas morning with Keith wrapped around me, snoring into my hair. No matter how weird it sounds, I enjoyed waking up to it. Its a lot better than waking up and finding your boyfriend passed out wearing a Beatles album cover as a hat (oh, yes, this happened). I rolled out from under Keith and slipped out of bed. John was in his bed, snoring just as loud as Keith, and I heard Roger in the shower and Pete playing his acoustic. I went to start breakfast but stopped to admire our tiny tree. It was only about three feet tall, with a small string of lights and some homemade ornaments on it. It wouldn't win tree of the year, but it was adorable in my eyes.

I hear a door slam and Keith runs down the hall, screaming about presents. John followed, grumbling, and then Pete with his guitar and Roger in my bathrobe (Everyone loves it, but I have no idea why).

Keith grabs a present and tosses it to Pete. "MERRY CHRISTMAS, PETER!" Keith yells. I was glad he was excited and happy without alcohol.

Pete opened his gift, and it was five sets of guitar strings. Pete also got a sweater from me, a bottle of cheap wine from Roger, and a Stones record from John.

I got Roger a book of card tricks, Pete got him some socks and candy, Keith got him a set of 500 matches (Hm... wonder why...), and John gave him a few, um, magazines with certain pictures in them.

John got some strings and socks from Roger, I made him some bookmarks, with the help of Pete, and Keith got him a, well, a... poster... of sorts. One that I really don't want to see in my room.

My gift to Keith was something I found in an antique shop. It was a necklace, and the pendant was silver and round. There was a sun on either side of the pendant, on the front it said, "You are the moon of my life," and on the other side, it said, "My sun and my stars."

Keith didn't wear necklaces, really, but when he saw it, he giggled like a little girl and hugged me. Roger started to sing, "Moonie's gettin' it on with Kenny, I hope those two get a room." It was a little thing Pete came up with for whenever Keith hugged or kissed me, or if he even looked at me.

Keith got me the best gift in the universe. A brand new (used) acoustic guitar. I had been using Pete's since we moved in, but now I had one of my own. I pounced on Keith and Roger started singing "The Song".

Roger got me some tea, Pete gave me a framed picture of himself with a Sharpied-in moustache and devil horns (quite tasteful), but Roger's gift was almost as awesome as Keith's. It was an un-marked .45 RPM, and I immediately put it on the record player. The song was unfamiliar, but I knew that voice, guitar, bass, and drums. It was The Who, and the song was called "My Generation". On the flip side was a song called "The Kids Are Alright."

Christmas '64 was pretty damn good.

A/N: Filler because shit is going down in the next chapter