Maybe It Was Meant To Be (A Marianas Trench Fanfic)

Chapter 16

It’s been nearly a week now since Britt came over for the first time and between then and now Matt’s come over almost every day to visit me. Britt’s been fairly busy with work so she’s only been by once or twice so far, but that’s alright. She said that if I don’t come back to work within the next month or so that she’ll have to lay me off. I probably won’t come back that soon so I’ll have to find a new job soon enough. So that sucks.

Also, Josh hasn’t talked to me for four days, with the exception of asking me what I want for dinner and simple things like that. I’m not sure what to do about that. I think he’s worried about me, mostly. And it worries me that he’s worried. That means I’m still not getting better. That means there are still things about me that prove that I’m to be worried about. That worries me.

I hate the idea that I’m not getting any better; that I’m still stuck in this stupid hole and no matter how hard I try and how much I do, I can’t get out.

Josh not speaking to me obviously isn’t helping either. You’d think he’d realize that but apparently not. Apparently sitting around on his ass all day and not paying any attention to me is what he thinks is right. Or maybe going out every night to hang out with ‘the guys’ is what’s best for our relationship, eh? For all I know he could be going out and fucking a different girl every night. I don’t like that.

Josh wouldn’t do that though. Right? I mean, he loves me. And he knows how much he means to me. He’d never do anything that bad to me. He’d never hurt me.

But he’s hurting me right now by not talking to me. He’s the reason this idea is in my mind in the first place.

Dick.

I grabbed my phone from my nightstand and dialed Matt’s number.

Ring… Ring…

“Hey Ari, what’s up?” his voice rang in my ear.

“Wow, you answered fairly quick for once.”

“What can I say? If you’re calling it must be important. What’s going on?”

“Josh still hasn’t spoken to me,” I sighed.

He paused for a moment before sighing, “Josh can be weird sometimes. I mean, he’s having to cope with this too. We all are, it’s not only you.”

“I know, but I want him to talk to me.”

“Then you have to let him know that. Listen, I have to go though. I’m sorry, I’m meeting Ian somewhere and I’m actually driving right now.”

“Oh god, you could’ve told me that… Don’t crash!”

“I won’t, Ariana,” he chuckled, “Good luck with the Queen.”

“Thanks, Matt. Have fun!”

“Thanks! Byeeeeeee,” he pulled bye out as long as he could before I hung up.

I set the phone on my nightstand before looking to the door.

“Josh?” I whimpered from the bed where I was sitting.

Footsteps.

“Josh?” the footsteps grew quicker, “Please…”

The door opened up and his head peeked through, bags under his eyes.

“Yeah, baby?” he yawned.

“I miss you.”

“What do you mean?” he looked puzzled.

“You haven’t been speaking to me lately. Hell, you’ve barely looked at me. I’m very sorry. I love you and I want to make you happy again. I’m sorry that I’ve been worrying you so much lately,” I reached my hands out to him and he moved to sit next to me on the bed.

“I love you so much. I’m sorry you thought I was ignoring you. I just didn’t know what to say other than that I loved you. I didn’t know what you wanted to hear,” he sighed, kissing my forehead softly: the first contact we’d shared in days.

“That’s all I wanted to hear.”

“I’m sorry, baby.”

“It’s okay,” I didn’t quite look at him.

“It doesn’t sound like it’s alright. Are you okay?” he said, his voice thick with worry.

“Well,” I cleared my throat, looking at him now, “Now that you mention it, not quite,” he raised his eyebrows as I said this, “I’ve just been looking for support lately. You were trying before, I know. But God forbid, as soon as I got a bit difficult, you were essentially done being there for me.”

“Ariana—“

“Josh, I don’t believe I was finished. I fucking love you. I was fucking relying on you. I’m still relying on you. I was hoping you’d understand if I got a little weird. I mean after all I did recently go through something pretty life crippling, didn’t I?” The words rolled off my tongue before I could realize how snappy I sounded.

“I’m not saying you didn’t…” he rolled his eyes ever-so-slightly.

“Did you just roll your eyes?” I guffawed, “Wow. Wow, Josh. I guess you’re just done taking care of me then? Am I on my own now?”

He began rubbing the bridge of his nose with his index finger and thumb, “Ariana, really? We’re gonna fight now? I apologized, isn’t that enough?”

I looked away, slightly turning my nose up.

“Guess not. Whatever. Call me over when you want to talk again. Whatever,” he got up from the bed, stomped towards the exit, and slammed the door abruptly all while I watched angrily.

Within an instant of him being gone, I regretted everything I had said to him.

Why the fuck do I do this to us?

“Josh…?” I called cautiously: No reaction.

I shut my eyes and leaned my head back against the headboard.

“Please? I’m sorry, baby,” I called out again.

Again, no reaction.

“Fuck,” I whimpered slowly, “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

I turned and set my feet softly on the frigid hard wood floors before pulling the rest of myself with them. From the side of my bed I made my way over to the bathroom, where I immediately rushed to the drawers.

With almost no struggle, I found what I was looking for: pills. Vicodin, to be exact. I don’t think I ever told Josh about them. I got them years ago when I got my wisdom teeth out and only ended up using one during my recovery process. That left me a nearly full bottle of deadly pills.

I turned and left the bathroom, the bottle in hand. Across the room from my bed, was a bottle of whiskey and an empty glass. Josh had left them out for me a week prior for in case I wanted any during the night.

I cracked the bottle in my hand open and stared at the baby blue pills. I poured nearly half the bottle into my mouth and walked calmly to the whiskey. I poured a fair amount in my mouth to help myself swallow the excessive amount of pills my mouth had been enduring. I continued to pour the rest of the pills into my mouth and down it with two more generous sips of the whiskey.

“Well this should be fun,” I muttered, dragging my feet back towards my bed, still holding the empty bottle of pills in one hand and the whiskey in the other. I sat on the bed and set the empty pill bottle on my nightstand neatly before taking a swig of the whiskey once again.

Within moments, I had downed the entirety of the bottle.

I could barely keep my eyes open.

“I love you, Josh,” I called out quietly.

Of course, no answer.

I grabbed my journal from the nightstand with the last of my energy. I jotted down one thing before I passed out:

I’m sorry.