Beautiful Mess || Johnny Rotten

Chapter 25: Envy's Silent Witness

John's POV

The phone booth in Berlin stood like a silent sentinel, a witness to countless conversations. Tonight, it held two men – Sid Vicious and I – our  tense silence speaking volumes. As I watched Sid on the phone to Nancy, bitterness and a hint disdain simmered beneath my tough exterior.

I couldn't bear to listen to Sid chatting away on the phone, acting like a lovesick puppy with Nancy. The words felt like a dagger twisting in my gut.

"I love you," he cooed, making declarations of his affection as effortlessly as breathing.

It was like a spotlight on my own shortcomings. Here I was, struggling to even ring Violet to apologise, while Sid was wearing his heart on his sleeve. And God I envied him for it.

There was a rawness to Sid that I couldn't deny. He wore his emotions like a badge, no matter how messy and chaotic they were. You always knew where you stood with him. While I hid behind walls and buried my emotions deep, Sid put everything out there – sometimes too much, but at least it was genuine. He might have his flaws, but perhaps that openness held a certain freedom I couldn't grasp.

Comparing myself to Sid felt like staring into a mirror I'd long avoided. His emotional outbursts could be obnoxious, but there was a brutal honesty in his raw displays of affection and anger. I realized that our stark differences highlighted the qualities we craved in each other, he wanted my restraint, and I yearned for his authenticity. It was a twisted dance of jealousy and desire.

As I continued to watch Sid on the phone, I couldn't help but wonder if Vi would've been better off with someone like him. Someone who could pour out their heart without hesitation. Someone who didn't shy away from their emotions. Someone who didn't leave a trail of unfinished business and unspoken words. But deep down, I knew I wasn't ready to give up on us, even though the thought lingered in the back of my mind.

Why had she chosen me? She was a fiery force of nature – a pocket rocket wrapped in a delicate package. Her laugh ignited a spark within me, but her fiery independence could sometimes burn just as fiercely. Yet, despite it all, she'd chosen me – the moody, emotionally constipated bloke who couldn't express his feelings to save his life.

Perhaps it was the thrill of the chase that drew her to me. The idea of trying to unravel my guarded exterior, to break down those walls I had built around my emotions. She saw something in me that I failed to recognize in myself, a glimmer of a connection that could transcend my own insecurities. Maybe it was my quiet confidence, or the way I could make her laugh despite everything. Whatever it was, she had seen something in me, and for that, I owed it to her to try – try to be better, even if it meant facing my own shortcomings.

I snapped back to reality when I noticed the time, "Oi, Sid! Wrap up that bloody call! We've got things to do," I barked, masking my inner turmoil with my usual grumpy demeanor.

"All right, mate. Keep your knickers on, " Sid quipped with a roll of his eyes before hanging up. "Can't a bloke have a chat with the missus?"

"We didn't come all the way to Berlin just for you to play Romeo on the phone," I grumbled.

Sid rolled his eyes again, a wry smile on his face. "You just need a good shag to loosen up a bit, Rotten." He laughed,

I scoffed, brushing off Sid's remark. "Save your advice for your next groupie, Sid. I'm not looking for advice on love from the king of dysfunction." I tried to maintain my cool front, but inside, my thoughts swirled like a whirlpool of uncertainty.

Sid shrugged, a sly grin playing on his lips. "You say dysfunction, I say passion. Not everyone can handle it, Johnny boy."

My eyes flashed with irritation, but I held my tongue. "Enough of that nonsense. Let's focus on tonight's gig."

Sid began to natter away about the upcoming gig as we walked. I couldn't help but glance at my friends bloodshot eyes and twitchy demeanor. Sid's heroin addiction was an undeniable presence in any room, an invisible elephant that couldn't be ignored. It added a layer of complexity to the situation, Sid's chaotic and impulsive personality amplified by his dependence on drugs. The weight of it all hung heavily, like a dark shadow over the conversation.

As our exchange continued, I found it increasingly difficult to focus, my mind kept drifting back to Sid's substance abuse issues. I'd seen first-hand the way heroin had worn away at my best friend's health and sanity. The worry grew in my chest, mixing with the lingering guilt from my fight with Violet. I knew I couldn't fix Sid's addiction, but the helplessness wouldn't stop gnawing away at me.

My psyche wrestled with a growing sense of frustration. I couldn't help but feel a pang of resentment towards Sid's seemingly careless attitude. Here we were, about to perform on stage, and Sid couldn't even get through a conversation without mentioning the very thing that was tearing him apart. I knew this wasn't the time or place for a confrontation, but my patience was wearing thin.

As Sid's words faded into the background, I couldn't help but feel like I was drowning. My thoughts were a tangled mess, and my emotions were a storm raging inside me. I'd been a fool to think I could escape the chaos of my own making. Deep down, I knew the real battle I faced wasn't against Sid or against Violet. It was against myself – my inability to express my feelings, my tendency to flee when things got tough. It was time to face the music, both onstage and off.