Rock Bottom (Sequel to How it Happened is Irrelevant)

17

TJ's POV:

"In that case, ignoring the events of the last month and a half," Craig opened the ring box, "I ask you this question. Will you marry me?"

I blinked at him, tears falling from my eyes. My heart ached for me to say yes, insisting that it was exactly what I wanted. In fact, every bone, drop of blood, organ, and muscle in my body ached for me to say yes. But I just couldn't. "I can't," I whispered. 

"Why can't you?" He asked, not closing the box just yet. I was glad that he didn't try to guess what I was going to tell him. 

"I don't deserve you." I gestured around me. "Everything I've done over the last month and a half proves it. I never did, and I'll never live up to it. It's a ridiculously high standard, and I just can't do it." I stood up. "I'm sorry."

"Now we're even," Craig told me. "I rejected you, and you rejected me. And you're not Satan himself, by the way. I've messed up too. I told you before: I never should've broken up with you in the first place." 

"You're only saying that now." 

He stood up, looking me in the eyes. "I shattered the already broken heart of my best friend."

I shook my head, laughing. "Nice try, buddy." 

"I'm serious."

I took the ring box back. "First of all, I paid for this. In no universe are we going dutch. Second of all, no." I stuffed it into my pocket. "It can't happen. Not now, not yet."

"Why not? You have to give a real excuse this time. Don't be sorry for yourself."

"My real excuse is that we've been broken up for the last month and a half. It's too fast to just pick up where we left off. You didn't feel anything anymore, anyways."

"But if we don't do this now what if it happens again?" Craig's voice was practically a whisper. We'd began to walk back to the bus now. (Tour manager's gonna be livid) 

"Then it's just not meant to be."

"Don't say that."

I took his hand and squeezed it. "It won't happen."

"You don't know that."

"Don't let the last six years of my life hear you say that. They'll clobber me."

He laughed a little. "So you're gonna make me wait another three years before you have the guts to say 'I love you more than I did yesterday?'"

"What? No! Maybe just one more month or something. Don't be ridiculous. I've still gotta recover before I can really say this....right."

"You're going to rehab?" His surprise did upset me a bit. 

"Maybe. I can't do what I did before."

"But you're fine now."

"And just a few hours ago I wasn't." I wrinkled my nose at him, confused. "Why don't you want me to go through with it?"

"I don't know. It's just.... The last time someone in this band went through rehab, they were a different person. A little bit in a good way, and a little bit in a bad. What if you leave us like he did?"

"Why would I do that? I love you guys, and I still don't want a real job."

"You've never said that sober." 

He was right. But it still hurt. I was going to do it right then, just ask him anyway. I'd changed my mind while we were talking. But he'd changed it again. Would I really change if I went to rehab? 

Craig's POV: 

When we got back on the bus, TJ was immediately assaulted by a thousand questions from multiple different people. He didn't answer any of them, instead taking my hand and leading me right to the back of the bus. "What're you doing?" I asked him.

"All your useless flirting turned me on," He mumbled. 

I was in my bed, in a house I'd not seen for years. Sheets folded up around me, tucking me in tight. Too tight. I couldn't breathe. I really can't breathe. I gasped, hyperventilating as a phantom mask came closer and closer to my face. 

I shot up, finding myself on a bench in the back lounge. TJ's head lie on my stomach. I myself was covered in sweat from my nightmare, still gasping for breath. My whole body trembled and shook, so much so that TJ stirred. His eyes fluttered open. "Craig? What's wrong?" He whispered. He sat up, hair falling into his eyes, just a little curly. "Another nightmare?" I nodded. He moved closer to put his arm around me. 

"I couldn't breathe," I whispered to him. He didn't reply. "I wish I can get over it."

"It was a traumatic event."

"But I haven't slept in years. I should be fine by now."

"It's okay." His hand moved up and down my upper arm, pushing little circles into my skin. 

"Am I gonna be an insomniac forever?"

"Maybe," TJ sighed. "But you slept longer than you think." He pointed to the window. First light was just starting to come through the blinds. "Almost five hours."

My eyes grew wide. "Really?"

"Really."

I closed my eyes again and put my head on his shoulder, which was fairly boney. (This is in no way comfortable but somehow it still is.) "Yay," I sighed. 

"If you're in the mood for good news, I've got more."

"Yeah?"

"No cravings."

My eyes opened again and I sat up, pulling out of his grip. "Really?!" I practically screamed. 

"Shh... The others are still sleeping," He whispered. "But yes, really."

And all was well.