𝕋ℍ𝔼 𝕊𝕌𝔹𝕃𝕀𝕄𝕀ℕ𝔸𝕃 𝕆ℕ𝔼-ᴾᵃʳᵗ²

Chapter 3: Disasterpiece

Thunder boomed tremendously outside. And for the first time in months, California was blessed with rain, the cold winds lashing it aggressively onto the city, drenching the roads and pavements. It slashed against buildings, glistening against the black tarmacs of the roads, making everything glistening, wet and glossy.

Impassively, Corey stared ahead, watching the TV that hung from the wall above his door, staring at the chat show. The volume was minimal, barely audible, but it didn't matter to him. He wasn't paying attention. It was just enough to distract him from what was happening.

Sat in his chair, reading a gossip magazine that was two years old, was Joey. He had remained silent most of the time of being here, having no concept in what to talk to Corey. He felt almost frightened in talking to the Vocalist, as if assuming that whatever Joey would say would only harm Corey more. Corey's mind was at a fragile place, and Joey was just simply too frightened to speak, or ask anything.

But, eventually, Corey spoke up:

"Is she still here?"

Joey looked up, and hesitated.

"Sal?"

"Hmm."

"Yeah, she's with Jamie." Joey reported simply, returning back to the magazine. He was hoping that Shawn, or Mick, or anyone else would come back so that Joey could leave the room. It wasn't that he didn't wanted to be by Corey's side, but he needed space away from everyone. He had mourned over the tragedy of Corey's failed suicide, but it wasn't enough. He needed to be away from Corey, unable to bear the sight of him at the moment, a constant reminder of what has happened.

"She hates me."

That made Joey look up again, seeing Corey staring at the TV numbly.

"Dude, she doesn't."

"Then why hasn't she come to see me?" Corey shot back, his bloodshot eyes gliding over to Joey, and Joey felt his blood grow cold. "She's usually the first to see me."

"She was." Joey interjected, a little too firmly. "Unfortunately, she had a meltdown."

When Corey said nothing, Joey's gaze returned to the magazine, frowning at the 'TOP TO DROP' section of the page, a crude judgement of celebrities' outfits with a poor rating system.

Let them fucking wear whatever they want.

"Heh...a meltdown..."

Joey didn't react, but he heard his statement. "She has a police officer beside her. She could easily run away with him...maybe live in California and have a family..." Corey tilted his head slightly, and the lack of emotion in his voice made his comment seemingly dry and pointed. "I'm a fucking mess. A Disasterpiece. I don't know why she bothers with me...I'm just nothing...just a sack of shit that does nothing but hurt her..."

Joey closed the magazine calmly, taking a deep breath as he rolled the magazine in his hand.

His fingers shook as he remained still, listening.

"Maybe..." Corey muttered, his voice broken. "Maybe I was wrong about her..." A streak of annoyance tainted his tone. "She should be here, nursing me. If she really cared about me, she would-"

"SHUT UP!" Joey hollered vociferously, lifting the rolled-up magazine in the air and slapping it hard against the bedside table, emitting a horrific slam! Corey looked up at Joey with dark, broken eyes, almost hatefully, disgusted how the little drummer interrupted his lament. "For fuck sake, Taylor! Get your fucking shit together!" Joey aggressively threw the magazine across the room, his temper finally boiling over. "Has is ever occurred to you how she fucking feels? How many hours of fucking sleep she had lost for you? You're not alone because the whole fucking family is here, making sure you're fucking okay!"