His Rockstar

15. | 'I'm Sorry'

Alex takes me to a completely different place, and I assume this is where he wanted me to come to originally. It doesn't look much different from any other penthouse. Still fancy and modern.

Immediately, I go up to one of the bedrooms and climb into it. Alex does the same, but he only lays on top of the covers.

"Do you want to talk about it?" He asks softly.

"What's there to talk about?"

"Something triggered your panic attack." I sigh. I guess I should tell him. I mean, it's the least I could do. "You were talking about pills and drugs? What was that about?"

"Del." I find myself whispering. "It was about Del."

Immediately, I know he knows. "Okay...but how come you reacted like that?" I feel his eyes on my face, but I can't bring myself to look at him.

"Del overdosed." My breathing shakes as I exhale. "I'm the one who found her."

This time, however, I meet his eye. His eyes are widened ever so slightly, but I notice the small flickers of concern in them.

"I'm sorry." He whispers.

I can only shrug. "Nothing you could've done."

I still remember exactly how it went down. It's engraved in my mind.

"Del, you've been in there for forever! I need to shower!" I had banged on the door. I yelled until I finally unlocked the door myself. "Del? Del!" Before I knew it, I was on my knees beside the bathtub crying, begging for her to wake up. "Delilah!" Then I found the bottle of meds spilt on the ground and it was as if all the pieces fell into place. "Mom! Dad! Help me! Please!"

It wasn't long until the doctors were confirming it was an overdose. She was gone long before I made it into the bathroom. The water only put her to sleep.

That was the moment my family crumbled like ash. Mom fell into depression, then it progressed into an illness. I fell into depression. My dad threw all these new responsibilities onto my shoulders.

My happy, carefree life was gone in a matter of twenty-four hours.

"Hey," I snap back, finding Alex on his side with one hand brushing hair behind my ear and cupping my face. "What happened isn't your fault."

"I know." I nod. "I just— Sometimes, it does feel like it's my fault. Like I'm the reason she's dead."

"She chose that path. Not you." He assures me.

"I know." I whisper. "I'm still trying to wrap my head around it, as stupid as it sounds." I laugh slightly. "It's been five years and yet I still haven't come to terms with it. I still find myself thinking 'She'll come back. She's waiting for me'. So I pretended she didn't exist." I shrug, my bottom lip quivering.

"Why didn't you ever tell me?" His voice is soft.

"Are you kidding? I've told you more than I've told any of my therapists. You know more than anyone I know, and that's saying a lot." I state, turning away to look at the city lights through the window.

"Not many people know this, but... I was an alcoholic." I turn back to him, brows furrowed. He nods, as if answering my silent questions. "We did our best to hide it from the public, and we've done a good job at it so far."

"Why were you drinking?"

"After you left, all I could do was drink. I fell into the wrong crowd and literally drank myself sick. I almost died from alcohol poisoning because of it."

He almost died.

I push myself to sit up and he follows. "Why?" Is all I can ask. Why did he do it? Why would he risk his life like that? Why would he hurt his family like that?

"I was lost, and confused. I had just lost the girl I liked and I was angry and I befriended the wrong people and suddenly, all I could do was drink. Drink for breakfast, for lunch, for dinner. I was partying all night long and sleeping all day. My parents didn't even know until I ended up in the hospital."

"What'd you do?" I whisper, studying his face.

He inhales a deep breath, and I realize this is just as hard for him as it was for me to tell him about Del. I grab his hand, giving him a reassuring smile. He intertwines our fingers. "There was a girl who, funny enough, looked a lot like you. She was in trouble and, because my mom raised me right, I tried to save her. Scared him off, but he shoved me back and...I stumbled. Smacked my head on the concrete."

My heart clenches. Even drunk, he tried to save a poor girl.

"There was...There was internal bleeding. The doctors said that if I had gotten there any later," He takes a deep breath. "I wouldn't have made it."

I wouldn't have made it. If it weren't for that girl, he wouldn't be sitting here with me now.

Before I can think about it, I'm wrapping my arms around him. He seems shocked at first before he's hugging me back, his fingers playing with the ends of my hair. Now it's my turn to whisper, "I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault." He pulls back to give me a stern look. "And I never want you to think that it is."

I smile slightly. "I know."

"You keep saying that, but do you really know it?" He raises a brow.

"Yes." I nod, my smile growing.

We fall into a comfortable silence and I pick at the blanket as I wait for him to say something. "Looks like we're both broken to some degree." I look up at him, finding a small tilt to his lips.

He's trying to make a joke, and it's working.

I sigh, flopping back in an attempt to hide my smile. "Do you ever wonder what our lives would be like if we weren't broken?"

"You mean happy and carefree?" He retorts, laying down on the bed beside me. "Yeah, sometimes."

"If you could be anything in the world, what would you want to be?" I flip over onto my side to meet him face to face.

"An artist." He answers without hesitance.

I quirk a brow. "Never grew out of that, did you?"

"Well, maybe, it's because it wasn't a phase." He remarks. "I've drawn multiple of our album covers."

"Have you?"

He nods. "My hands are good for drawing. Among...other things." He smirks, and I roll my eyes. "What would you want to be?"

What would I want to be?

"A singer." I find myself whispering. I always wanted to become a singer, kind of like Avril Lavigne. I was always told that I had an amazing voice, but I always shut down any suggestions. Singing was a passion of mine, much to my father's dismay.

"I thought you said you wouldn't ever become a singer." His brows furrow.

I shrug. "Dreams are just dreams. Some people can't follow them."

His brows crease every so slightly. He looks as if he wants to ask more, but I'm yawning and I remember it's almost four in the morning.

I want to sleep. I'm tired.

"Go to sleep. I'll be here when you wake up." He assures me.

I smile to myself as my eyes fall shut. "I wasn't worried about that."

"Good."

I sigh, wrapping the blanket tight around me. "I'm sorry I was such a bitch to you." I whisper despite myself.

"Don't worry about it. Get some sleep." I hum, then I'm falling into the darkness.