KISS THE RING ☆ Taylor Hawkins

20. I (don't) really wanna be in L.A

After coming back at home Pat, Diane and Dave didn't socialize with each other for two full days, all being locked up in their rooms to recover from jetlag. The frontman, however, had still decided to leave for Virginia to visit his mother and start looking for some houses there, in the countryside. The redhead didn't quite understand what he wanted to do, perhaps a recording studio? They hadn't had a chance to talk much during the tour, both being busy some for one thing or another. When Diane stepped out of her room, she immediately walked over to Dave's room who, seeing her leaning against the door jamb, greeted her with one of his usual smiles. "Foxy, have you recovered?" Asked the frontman continuing to arrange his suitcase. "A little..." she whispered, clutching the hem of her red Runaways shirt in her hands. "I actually miss my friend Eric." As soon as he heard the words leave the girl's mouth he immediately looked up at her, smiling again before inviting her to enter his room by extending his arm. "Do you have two minutes for me?" She asked shaking his hand before settling on the guitarist's bed with him. "That's a stupid question, don't you think?" The redhead shook her head and rolled her eyes, making the dark-haired man sitting in front of her laugh, and in the meantime he intertwined his fingers with hers. "First of all, I wanna know what's going on between you and Melissa." She narrowed her eyes as she scrutinized his friend who ran his free hand over his face, giggling embarrassed. "Nothing interesting, really... it's a little strange." The guitarist shrugged and looked away in his room. "So...?" - "We just spent one night together, Foxy. Kind of like you and Taylor ..." The redhead squinted at him, backing away slightly as she gave him a puzzled look. "Me and Taylor?" She started to get up but the guitarist stopped her, squeezing her hands further. "Hey, no. Diane, I didn't mean that." - "Nothing of what you think has ever happened between us." The singer managed to get away from her friend who got up from the bed immediately after her, trying to get closer to her again. "Foxy!" He yelled at her, making his voice resound in the hallway. "Fuck you, Dave." She couldn't stand the idea that one of her best friends would think such a thing about her. Obviously, during the tour, no one ever wondered why both Diane and Taylor were always together, also because they saw in her eyes, in her expressions, something really changed. Besides, a lot of people didn't like Izzy, especially Dave and Pat. But she didn't think anyone could question her loyalty, despite the fact that she was the first not to be so convinced.

That afternoon she didn't have the slightest intention of staying home, especially because she didn't want to have anything to do with Dave before his departure. She would see him again after the holidays, so both of them would have time to calm down. The festooned streets of Melrose Avenue distracted her for a while: as much as that city reminded her to take a stand regarding her mess, it was always nice to get lost and wander up and down between Santa Monica Boulevard and Lucile Avenue with her red Volkswagen Cabriolet. Actually, the car wasn't hers, it belonged to Dave, one of the few convertibles he'd managed not to destroy. But, since he was leaving shortly, he didn't need it, no? And then she'd warned Pat who, even though it's been days since their return, still needed a few more moments alone. Diane thought it was weird, she didn't remember ever seeing him like this but it didn't bother her that much. It must have been the excessive fatigue of the journey, 16 hours is not so easy to digest after spending several months away from home. In those hours of loitering, the redhead took the opportunity to start buying christmas presents for her friends, obviously going to Vivienne Westwood to treat herself with something.

After those hours spent with herself she came to a conclusion: sitting inside the Rainbow, a pub located on the Sunset Strip, with her back to the inside and the gaze towards the window overlooking the street crowded with different groups of people, she thought that she should speak clearly to both of them, Izzy and Taylor. One was bad for her, while for the other she was the bad influence. She knew there would be a chance to go back to heroin within seconds as soon as she set foot back at the guitarist's house and she didn't want the blond to continue to feel bad about her. There was no need to make him despair too. Satisfied with this reasoning, as if she had already put everything in place, she took out of her bag her notebook of lyrics that she hadn't used for months now and began to scribble on it. "Somebody get me out of here, I'm tearing at myself. Nobody gives a damn about me or anybody else." All those thoughts that haunted her mind were starting to bear fruit, at least not all evils come to harm. "Please don't call me self defending, you know it cuts me to the bone and it's really not surprising that I hold a force I can't contain." Fuck heroin, fuck Dave. "And still you call me co-dependent, somehow you lay the blame on me." Leaning her back against the seat of the stool she dropped the pen on the table, taking a long sigh before bringing the straw of her gintonic to her lips. She could be defined as particularly satisfied, for sure in the next few days she would try to cling into the anger that led her to write that handful of sentences, trying to squeeze it as much as possible. She heard a knock on the glass in front of her as she was turned, intent on ordering another cocktail, and to her surprise she found herself facing the dark-haired man who, with one hand in his pocket and one open in mid-air to greet her, smiled with his lips narrowed. "Of all the people I wanted to see tonight, you are definitely the last." He pursed his lips again, pointing to the seat next to the girl who nodded, motioning him to sit down. "Yes, I know... I'm sorry, D. You know I didn't mean what I said." Dave looks at the table in front of them and as soon as he rests his gaze on the girl's notebook, she closes it immediately and then rests it in her place. Then the guitarist shifted his gaze to the redhead's fries who, pushing the tray onto the table, let him take a handful. They were silent for a couple of minutes, drinking and eating without looking each other in the eyes. "Pat is leaving the Foo Fighters." Diane felt the earth under her sink at her feet, turning abruptly to her friend who kept his gaze down. "What did you say?" He nodded before bringing both hands to his face, rubbing it as if to wake up. "We talked about it this afternoon, he doesn't feel like continuing." The guitarist whispered, finally shifting his gaze to hers who, with wide eyes, listened to his incredulous words. "I'm going to Alexandria and I don't think I'll be back anytime soon, but you can still come and see me whenever you want, you know..." Dave's words were interrupted by the redhead who, intertwining her arms behind his torso, hid her face in his black shirt. "What will happen now? What will you do?" He returned her hug by holding her tightly from her shoulders before leaving a kiss on her head. "I don't know Foxy, I'll try to talk to Nate and Taylor when I'm settled out of this mess." He stated pointing to the environment around them, referring to the city that in part had raised them. "Are you leaving me here?" She asked, lifting her face from his chest to be able to look into his face, moving away slightly from their embrace. "I'm leaving you in good hands, I think." She turned her gaze elsewhere on the road, getting lost in the lights of the cars passing in front of them, slightly shaking her head still in shock at her friend's words. "And then there's Pat, he would never leave Los Angeles, you know." - "But I do, Dave." The singer furrowed his eyebrows, running a hand over her back waiting for a response from the redhead. "I'll come see you after the holidays, okay?" He nodded, moving closer to her face. "Of course, Foxy. You'll love Virginia. Maybe you can keep writing there." He whispered, pointing his head at her friend's bag with a half-smile on his lips before she rolled her eyes at his statement, then he quickly stole a kiss from her on the corner of her mouth. "Oh, you and your damn alcoholism!" He announced immediately after, certainly referring to the smell of alcohol given by the previous gintonics drunk by the girl, moving away from her dramatically and raising his hands in front of him. Diane laughed at him, crossing her arms over her chest and then looking at him with an astonished look on his face. "As if you could talk!"

Since Dave left LA, even if a few hours had passed, the house felt more empty than ever. That same evening, Pat and Diane spent it together, dining around the sofa table as they used to do and talking late into the night. The redhead filled him with questions, asking him mainly why he wanted to leave the group and he was more than happy to explain his points of view, leaving the girl satisfied with his answers but at the same time more saddened than ever. "I'm sure they'll find a solution. There's no need to worry." He stated at one point, putting a hand on her shoulder as if to reassure her, making her nod her head before their attention was captured by the ringing of the doorbell. They both looked at each other curiously as to who might visit at that time in the early morning. Pat got up first, heading for the front door which, as soon as it opened, showed Taylor looking bad and with his bike in his hands. "A cat made me go off the road." He said laughing, trying to play down while with his index finger he pointed to a trail of blood that started from his temple and crossed his face, staining his beard and his yellow t-shirt. Diane joined the two at the entrance, placing her hands over her mouth when she saw the blond with a broad smile on his lips as the blood poured from his head. "Go to the bathroom right away, moron." The drummer laughed, leaning the bike out the door and then running upstairs, headed for the girl's bathroom. Pat shook his head as he looked at the two before heading back to the kitchen to make some coffee. "Why are you here? It's six in the morning..." She asked after making him sit on the toilet, starting to wipe the dried blood from his face. "I was going surfing and I thought I'd take you with me." He whispered to her before showing an expression of discomfort, moving away from her touch as she began to disinfect his wound. "You have to stay still." She put a hand behind his neck while continuing to dab the cut almost on his hairline. The blond grabbed her hips under her shirt, stroking her slowly while he continued to keep his gaze on her who, with a concentrated expression, began to put patches on him to close the wound as soon as possible. "I would avoid getting on the surfboard, at least for today." After removing all the things she used and throwing what she no longer needed, she returned to the arms of the drummer who, intertwining his legs with the girl's ones, let himself be caressed on the face by her soft hands. "You can stay here, I need to rest and I think you should too after the blow you have taken." The redhead laughed at him, gently running a hand over his head for fear of putting too much pressure where he had slammed. "And maybe you give me your shirt first, it will be clean before you leave." The blond nodded while continuing to stare into her hazel eyes just before leaning slightly towards the girl who approached him, letting their lips caress each other tenderly.