What If I Can't Forget You?

{12}

Ian's POV

I stood there, frozen. They're real. They're actually real.

Vic stood there, arms crossed. He was smiling at me, trying not to laugh at my dumbstruck stare, no doubt. Mike was next to him, a smirk on his face. Tony smiled, and started forward for a handshake. I shook his hand, that hand that played my favorite songs. Oh my God, I'm acting like a teenage girl.

Jaime leaned up against the wall, scowling in my direction. I smiled at him, and he looked at the floor. Okay then.

"Nice to meet you, Ian. Welcome to the party." Vic said, slinging his arms around Mike and Tony.

"I can't- thanks. I- you-" I stuttered. I couldn't seem to get any words out. Alex laughed from behind me, and stepped forward, hugging on my arm. I saw Jaime glaring our way out of the corner of my eye.

"He's a HUGE fan." She explained. "And he's the newest edition to the set crew!"

"Nice!"

"Glad to have you with us, dude."

Jaime was standing now, and slowly walking towards us. He hung back a bit, staring me square-on, with fists clenched. I realized how strong he looked. His arms rippled with muscles I wish I had, and he was taller than me.

Jaime's POV

Hell no. Please, no. He can't come with us. This scrawny bitch of a dude can't take Alex from me. He can't tag along and take my friends away, he can't come into my life and ruin my happiness like this. I can't let him.

Alex walked up, hanging on his arm. I saw her glance in my direction briefly, then look away, fake-smiling as she introduced Ian. What had I ever done to deserve this? I was miserable, seeing her with him, and she knew it. In fact, it seemed like she was trying to rub it in.

Before I knew it, I was walking towards them, furious. My hands were balled up into tight fists, and I had to stop myself from knocking this fucker Ian square in the nose. Vic sensed this immediately. My best friend came to my rescue.

"Hey, uh, Jaime. I need to run back to the dressing room real quick, I forgot something. Do you want to, uh, go with me?" I knew it was a lie, and everyone else did too. But it was obvious I needed to get the hell out of there. I nodded, and Vic led the way out the stage door and down the hall.

We got to the dressing room, and I strode in quickly, eager to expel this rage that had pent up inside. I punched the brick wall over and over, pretending I was pounding Ian's face in. Vic was suddenly at my side, throwing me away from the wall. I landed on the couch. For a little guy, he was pretty strong. I tried to force my way past him, back to my imaginary beat-up Ian, but he held me firm.

"Jaime-" Vic's voice came softly, and I began to cool down. "Dude, your hands." I looked down, and my knuckles looked like they had been sliced repeatedly. Blood covered both my hands, sticky and warm. I had just realized that they hurt like hell.

"Fuck, dude. I'm sorry." My voice was soft too, and I looked up at my best friend. He frowned down at me, looking genuinely concerned. I had outbursts like this sometimes, but never this far. Vic stared at me, then turned and left the room. He returned with a wet washcloth and bandages, and helped clean my hands up in silence.

"Do you want to tell me what this is about?" He finally said, after my hands were bandaged and dry.

"I-" I started to get choked up. But Vic had to know, he was my best friend. "I had planned on making her mine. That night, actually. And- and when I go to meet her after the show, she's flirting with this guy, Ian. She hugged him, and then he left. I asked her who it was, and I guess I overreacted. But now they're a thing and- and-" I covered my face with my hand as tears started to come, knowing that I looked pitiful, knowing that I looked weak. Vic listened silently, patting my shoulder.

"What am I? A fucking girl?" I started to wipe my tears with my shirt. I sat up, angry again.

"Jaime, don't." Vic saw me starting to get angry again.

"No, Vic! You don't understand!" I exploded, standing up. My face was red, and tears still streamed down my cheeks. "I fucking hate that she makes me this way. I hate that I care so much. I hate how frustrating it is when I try so hard, but I don't even seem like a priority to her. I fucking hate it."

My eyes were pouring out tears now, and I sat back down on the couch, my burst of anger gone. I buried my head between my knees, and started to slowly calm down. I don't know how long I was there, crying like a little girl, but Vic was there by my side the whole time. He sat close, whispering "shh, shh" softly. On a regular basis, I would have been embarrassed of this, but it was just nice to have him there. To know I had someone I could count on.