Heavy Wears The Crown

Twenty Eight

 "My God I need a hope I can't deny. In the end I'm realizing I was never meant to fight on my own.  Every little thing that I've known is every thing I need to let go, you're so much bigger than the world I have made."

---------- On My Own - Ashes Remain ----------

I woke up with a start. "Nolan?" I whispered and looked around. "Nolan?" I sat up quickly, diving out of bed so fast that I stumbled and fell into the wall.

I'd fallen asleep rubbing his head, muttering something about apples and moms and now he was gone. I'd lost him, the detoxing drug addict was now out wandering the streets doing God knows what and God knows who.

I came out of the room and froze. He was sitting on the couch plucking the strings of his guitar with a pair of headphones plugged into it and a pen between his teeth.

He didn't know I was standing there, and I didn't make another move towards him. After a few moments of playing he pulled the pen out and scribbled on a notepad, he tapped the back end of the pen on the notepad and mouthed out the words he was writing as if testing them to the new tune.

Nolan Doufer...was writing...successfully?

As if reading my mind his head jerked up and our eyes connected.

My heart stopped, I had been caught. Not that he'd exactly been hiding nor was I being particularly stealthy as I blundered out. "You look like hell." I finally said when no one made a move or sound.
"I feel worse." He said in complete casualness.

"You should have slept."

He pulled a headphone out but left the other in and began plucking strings. "Can't. Won't sleep well for weeks probably." Again, complete calmness, no emotion.

"Maybe we can get you some kind of tea-"

He stopped playing abruptly and looked up. "Tea?"

"I was reading about some online, some people in your predicament tossed out suggestions of brands and stuff."

"My predicament." He repeated slowly. "You mean the talented singer throwing his life down the toilets?"

"The predicament of someone with a serious illness trying to get better."

He drummed his fingers on the guitar and finally moved it off of his lap. "You've been reading?"

"Yeah, from time to time when you were sick. Looking for some way to help you. Have you eaten?"

"Not hungry." He said without a flicker of hesitation. "Thanks."

"You should eat."

He watched me with perplexed interest for several moments.

"Do you want to go into the hotel? Judging by the time, we've been parked by it for hours. Maybe you could get a long bath or something, they have a Jacuzzi tub, I'll bet washing up will make you feel much better."

"What I want is for you to stay."

I felt myself wilt. "I will do whatever I can to help you through this, but when the week is over I've already told you my decision. Let's not make this any harder than it has to be."

"You think this isn't hard?"

"I didn't say that, I said harder than it has to be. I told you Nolan...I just can't walk away from this kind of money. I told you before we even made the bet that it wasn't a fair bet to you because of that."