- book three of wisteria hearts -
Flashback five years to the 2016 Met gala.
Flashback to the pain, suffering and hurt that Taylor went through.
Flashback to Joe's life before he found a reason to stay.
Sometimes you can be suffering but no one c...
- this is book three of my wisteria hearts series! If you haven't read the other two books, I suggest you check them out so you have a connection to the characters, and know what's been happening! -
His hands were stained red. He'd been sitting here at the piano for four hours and twenty six minutes. He knew, because of the clock that sat on the wall. His Mum had brought it for him when he'd first moved to New York, and as ugly as it was, he didn't want to throw it away. The soft little ticks that usually soothed him, made him feel tense. This was his escape. Playing until his fingers bled was how he got away from the feelings and thoughts in his head. God knows he needed that relief. Joe felt as if he might be able to drown out the thoughts in his head if he were to play the piano loud enough. Sometimes it worked, but other times the thoughts would just get louder and louder until he felt like he might explode. He'd always gone to the piano when he felt like this. It used to be able to provide him with comfort, and it really did used to help. But now, no matter how hard or loud he played, those thoughts wouldn't leave.
He'd come to New York hoping that it would make them all go away. He'd hoped that a change of scenery would make it better, that the further away he got from it, the better he'd feel. He'd always loved the idea of New York, loved the concept of the billboards, of Times Square and that atmosphere that could only be found at the centre of it all. Joe finally got up from the piano - knowing that if he wanted his fingers to look normal before his appearance at the Met Gala tonight, then he'd have to stop. He couldn't keep playing all day - well, he could, but that wouldn't get him anywhere.
It always came over him in waves, this feeling of darkness. He'd first felt it in high school, felt it when he was told by his music teacher that he kept fucking up the keys, that it was hopeless. That he was hopeless. He'd felt it deep within his soul right then and there, felt those words slice him right open. Because he'd used music as an escape from it all throughout his life - he'd practiced and practiced and he had been told that he was good on the piano. But hearing his music teacher say that to him - that he was hopeless had crushed him. He already felt like that himself, and couldn't agree more, but it hurts differently when someone physically tells you it. Perhaps that was why he'd play until his fingers were raw. Perhaps that's what started it all in the first place.
Joe looked at himself in the mirror while he got ready, utterly disgusted by what he saw. Sometimes he just wanted to punch a hole right through it. He hated himself. There was not a single pretty way to say it. He'd hated the person he was back in London, but he hated the person he was in New York even more. He couldn't put his finger on why exactly, because he didn't really feel liked he'd changed at all. He turned away from the mirror and went to have a shower. He wasn't looking forward to tonight. Most events like this that he'd been to dragged on and on, and he always ended up feeling even worse about himself. Because he knew that he'd be there with all of these other handsome and attractive people, and he'd look like a fish out of water. Other people were just so much better at this sort of life than he was. Joe wished that he could just... take it all back. Sometimes he wished that he had chosen an easier career - one that wasn't so cut throat and competitive. He wasn't a competitive person in the way that all of these other people were.
The good thing about being an actor? He knew exactly how to fake a smile.
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