September. (A Josh Ramsay Fic)

Twenty Two - Acadia Is Gone

My plan for that night was to curl myself into a ball and cry into my pillow until the morning rays shone through the broken cracks of glass in my small basement window. I'm fairly sure that the plan would have been effective, too, had it not been for the harsh thudding of footsteps descending my stairs at 3am. I didn't even need to wonder who it was, or what state they were in. No sober person would crash down my stairs as if it was the middle of the day, and the only person I knew who took drugs, and wasn't already in my bedroom, was Josh.

And sure enough, I heard my door swing open, and felt someone sloppily climb into my bed beside me. 

"September?" he whispered, his breath laced with vodka and his scent that of vinegar. It made my skin crawl in disgust, but my heart pulled in lust. I wanted that again- but for now, I couldn't have it. I had found out a week ago that I would have to do without heroin for a while, and maybe this was the motivation I needed. I mean, sure, I drank yesterday, but one couldn't hurt, right? He wrapped his arms around me and rested his head on my shoulder, drunkenly whispering into my ear.

"You're so pretty when you sleep, I could watch you for hours." He began, speaking to me even though he presumed I was asleep.  "I'm sorry I fuck everything up. I'm sorry I fucked Matt up. I'm sorry I fucked you up. I'm sorry I can't get this fucking right even though I want to so badly. I want to love you, September, but I don't know how to do that. I don't know how to love you without hurting you. All I've done is make everything shit, and I'm so fucking sorry. I don't know how to fix this. I don't know how to fix you. I don't even know how to fix me. But I think I really love you. Even if I don't know how to love you, I can still try my damn hardest to love you. My September."

His self pity was boring me, and I wanted him to shut the fuck up before I kicked his teeth in, so I turned around in my bed, still maintaining the guise of sleep, wrapped my arms around him, and mumbled, "I love you".

~

That morning I was awoken by the sound of heavy machinery and Josh's incomprehensible screaming. I dragged myself out of my bed in search of him and to try to figure out what all of the noise was about. I seriously could not deal with stress right now, not on top of what I was burdened with already.

As I emerged from my house, I saw what was causing the commotion- a large wrecking ball was poised facing Josh's burnt out shell of a house, accompanied by several other demolition machines. Josh was stood in front of these machines, screaming as loud as he could at the workers not to touch his house. I ran over, intending to attempt to even slightly console him, or allow the workers to do their job. When I reached him, however, he looked at me with cold eyes.

"Get out of here, September" he spat, glaring at me.

"Josh, you need to let go, you need to let them do this. It's just a house-"

"It's not 'just a house'- it's the house I grew up in! Everything I've ever known is here, I can't let them tear my house down!"

"Josh, we burnt the place to the ground. All that's left now is burnt timber and melted plastic- whatever remained of your memories was either destroyed in the fire or taken by you afterwards. There's nothing there for you any more."

"You don't fucking understand. It's my home, why don't you just fuck off! Go back to your home, seeing as you actually fucking have one!" and with that, he pushed me. I wasn't expecting it, and fell to the ground, my knees scraping against the hard paving stone of the sidewalk. I looked up at him, trying my best to look as hurt as I felt.

"Josh..." I tried, attempting to make him see reason.

"Fine" he sighed, slumping over and collapsing down beside me, linking his hand in mine. We laid there for what must have been an hour, watching them tear the house down, until we were watching the heavy machinery leave towards the horizon, mere dots in our vision. When it was over, I threw my arms around him, but he pulled away sharply, pushing me once again. 

"Fuck off and die" he spat, getting up and walking away from me.

I probably shouldn't have been running in my state, but who the fuck cares. All I wanted right now was Matt. He was just a kid, but he had become my emotional support throughout everything I did recently. Whenever me and Josh argued, Matt was there to hug me through it.

His mom gave me a filthy look, as always, when she answered the door to me, before stepping aside to allow me into her home. She still didn't trust me around Matt, but I couldn't quite understand why. I mean, it's not like I'm a possibly mentally ill drug addict slash arsonist who's two years his senior, right?

It wasn't until I greeted Matt in his room that I realised my knees were bleeding; the bandage on my wounded leg (which I still refused to use crutches for) had been torn through, and was unravelling quite horribly. I'm surprised I didn't trip on my way over here.

"You look like a fucking mess." Matt told me as I entered his room. 

"Thanks," I reciprocated, before collapsing onto his bed as gracefully as a baby giraffe on stilts.

"So what's happening now?" he asked, pulling out a first aid kit from god knows where and mopping up the blood that was now drying on my knees. 

"So much shit," I sighed, rubbing my eyes to accentuate my exhaustion with life.

"Yeah, I fucking figured!" he snapped, throwing the kit to the ground. "'We can't talk to Josh any more, Matt, he's a dick'. 'I love Josh, Matt, I'm going to marry him'. 'I fucking hate Josh, I never want to see him again'. 'I burnt Josh's house down because I was high off my face and didn't know what I was doing, Matt, give me sympathy!' No, September, I'm done." 

"Matt-" I stuttered, before being cut off by him.

"No. Don't you dare. I'm sick of you being the centre of attention. You're my best friend, but I can't keep this up any longer, I'm exhausted. 

This is when I looked at Matt properly for the first time in months, and suddenly I knew what Josh meant when he said he'd fucked Matt up. His previously tame hair stuck up at odd angles and matted in places. His eyes, formerly melted chocolate, were reminiscent of wet mud. His skin was dry, cracked, and greying, dark bruises covering his arms and his face. He had dark circles surrounding his eyes, and his fatigue showed. I felt guilty for not realising what state he was in- I'd been so caught up in my selfish affairs with Josh that I hadn't noticed just how much it was hurting Matt. I'd assumed it didn't affect him, I thought that because he wasn't directly involved he would be okay. But I was wrong. Everything I had done, everything I had caused, had been hurting Matt. He was a child, and he should be happy. But all I had brought upon him was pain. I didn't even know how he'd found out that I'd been taking heroin at all, let alone the day Josh's house was set alight, but I knew that now wasn't the time to ask. My friend was hurting, and I had already been selfish enough towards him.

"I don't want to hurt you any more," was all I could manage, pathetically holding my arms out, inviting him in for a hug.

"I just want to know what's going on with you, September... I want honesty." he sighed. And this was it; it was now or never- I either told him here and now, or it stayed my secret until I couldn't keep it any longer. And I was sure he'd be even angrier if he found out later rather than sooner. And so, with every ounce of courage that I could muster up, I slowly breathed out the words that I had been aching to scream from the rafters since I knew that they were a reality.

"I'm pregnant, Matt."