John's POV
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I'm such an idiot. Why did I have to sign that paper? Oh yeah, because I never think about anybody besides myself. Now I'll never get that back.
My eyes burn as the tears slide down my face, onto my jumper. My legs are pushed up against my lungs, my hands being the ribbon tying them together. I don't look at anything. I don't *want* to look at anything. Everything in my life is breaking again. I haven't eaten in days, my stomach rejecting anything it touches. Just the thought makes me sick.
I never thought breaking up with her would be the outcome of this. I was only trying to help out a friend. The air's cold, but my jumper is supposed to keep me warm. The phone's been nonstop ringing since yesterday, but I just don't have any energy to get up and answer it. The pounding continues in my head as it starts up again, taking a deep breath to help. Finally it stops, but I'm not sure if it stopped or someone answered it.
"John?" Linda mumbled with a tiny knock.
"Go away."
"John, I'm really worried about you. You haven't left your room in three days. And George just called to ask me how you were."
"I told you I'm fine. I just need alone time to write stuff for my new book or song lyrics, I haven't decided yet." My voice cracks, more water collecting for the vase known as my jumper.
"Ok, I'll tell him, then." She obliged and then it was silence. I rubbed my temples, easing some of the pressure in my head.
There they are. The tickets to Germany I bought a few weeks ago. I suppose I should give them to Stuart. Maybe he could go with that Astrid bird or something. I wouldn't want to bum him out. They cost me a fortune considering how expensive airline tickets are, but I saved my hard earned money for them. I closed my eyes again and just listened to the silence. Finally nothing to bother me. Iris settles by me, sniffing my hand and rubbing it with the top of her head. Suddenly with a kick to the wood caused the door to swing open and a frazzled man in a messy bun burned his eyes into me.
"Why aren't you returning my calls?!"
"I told you to piss off, Harrison!" I screamed, not caring about my dry throat scratching.
"John, I'm worried about you. You haven't come over in four days now and haven't been returning my or Mary's calls. I know this is hard on you right now-"
"No, you don't get to tell me how I feel! I'm perfectly fab George, so why don't you just fuck off?"
"A person with bloodshot eyes who locks themselves in their room, not coming out to eat or drink water is not *fine*!" He jarred at me, nearly busting up my eardrum.
"Maybe not for you. I'm getting over this my way. So I don't want to see you, Maureen, or anyone that works at the shop until I'm ready."
"C'mon mate, it's your birthday for Christ's sake. I know you're hurting right now, I know it's hard. You loved them. So much."
"I don't need you, I don't need anyone. You can't even fathom how much this hurts me, Harrison! They were the one person in my life I could count on, and now it's all gone!" I slid back down the wall, my head falling back into my knees as my eyes welled up again.
He didn't say anything back after that. He just sat there, gliding over to the wall and wiped away one of my tears. He grabbed something from his jacket pocket and handed it to me.
Chocolate covered biscuits. I should have known.
About more than a quarter of the package was already have gone. He must have had half of it for brekky this morning before work. I weakly folded over the flap and wrapped one around two of my fingers, plopping it into my mouth. I gave it back to him while reaching for the pack of my cigarettes and lighter. I placed one atop my bottom lip, enclosing my hand around the fire source and lighting it up, a little smoke leaking before the first drag. The whisky aromatic unclean air peppered into my lungs, adding frosting to the burnt cake top. I reached it out to George's hand, him taking it blissfully and puffing it into the thin air. I stamped the bifter on an ash tray I had handy, watching the life die out. He laughs, patting my knee.
