I Think I Love You | Randy

track 15. landslide - fleetwood mac

Well I've been afraid of changing 'cos I built my life around you.

***

Rye didn't get back to himself after the argument. He didn't bring up Mikey again, nor did he question why Brook was still coming round to the apartment. He didn't really engage in any kind of conversation with me at all. Not in the way of ignoring me, more so he just kept to himself. He went out often and when he was home he was rarely sober. I could smell it on him whenever I came home, the scent of weed or booze seeming to cling to him permanently, wafting ominously out of his room even when he wasn't home, as the laundry he wasn't doing piled up higher and higher. It was becoming obvious that there was something bigger at play here, something bothering him beyond our little spat. It scared me, because I had absolutely no clue what it was. Every time I tried to ask he would shut the conversation down before it even began, disappearing again shortly after.

I'd seen Rye spiral before. I knew that self-destructing was his coping mechanism, that he would throw himself into anything that made him feel numb. What made this time different was that he had never shut me out before. I always knew why he was falling apart, and he let me be there while it happened to make sure he didn't go too far into the darkness to return from, usually ending up crying it out in my arms eventually. But this time not only did I have no idea what was weighing on him, he didn't even want me near him at all.

I had no choice but to let him be, so I did my best to throw myself into productive things, as I'd resolved to. The circumstances weren't the best, but I was finally getting the distance from him that I had needed for a while. I couldn't shake the concern, or the love I had always felt for him, but at least I was getting a break from the wet dreams and the ill-timed boners.

Rehearsals were a weird vibe too, since Jack and Brook still weren't speaking. It took a few days for the others to cotton onto it as we'd just been going and going nonstop without much time for socialisation in between. But today the divide was painfully obvious as all of us principles had nothing to do while the director worked with the ensemble onstage. Jack was sitting by himself at one end of the theatre while the rest of us were clustered on the other, the miles of distance between us glaringly apparent in the otherwise empty gallery.

"He's staring at you, Brook," Olivia said, nudging Brook. I looked over at Jack whose wistful gaze was indeed shamelessly fixed on Brook, not seeming to give two shits that we'd all clearly noticed him.

"He needs to stop," Brook grumbled, refusing to look up from his phone.

"I don't think he's gonna," Olivia noted, "he's not blinking."

"It is a tad creepy," I added.

Brook stood up suddenly. "I need some fucking air," he announced, climbing past me to walk down the aisle, Jack's eyes following him the entire way.

"Looks like someone's been a bad dog," Olivia whispered slyly, sliding over into Brook's vacated seat beside me.

"Apparently so."

"What's the drama between them two then?" she smirked. "You have to tell me, Andy."

"I honestly don't know," I told her. She raised an eyebrow at me.

"Isn't that worrying?"

I shrugged. "Brook and I kind of have a 'don't ask, don't tell' thing going on at the moment."

"How romantic," Olivia observed dryly. "Just do us a favour and wait until after opening night for your showmance to fall apart."

"Trying," I muttered, the smirk dropping from Olivia's face as it was replaced with concern.