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The LA heat felt nice. I was so sick of the dreary rain back in Scranton. Once I felt that rush of warm air, I could relax some. The entire flight I felt like a nervous wreck. My mind was constantly teetering between if this was a good idea or not. And let's not even talk about the way my stomach was. Holy shit, it felt like a tornado was going off in there. Why the fuck do they call that "butterflies"? It feels like a goddamn wasp nest got broken open inside of me.
I took a cab to the hotel. During the drive, I had time to think again, and that I meant the anxiety returned. I'm not much of an anxious person, but when it comes to Ghost... Insert long sigh because I'm out of words here. It's like I have a million words and zero all at the same time. If it was possible to have less than zero words, like negative words, that's the way I am when I want to speak to him. Actually speak to him, I mean. I can have buddy-buddy conversation just fine. Telling him how I feel though? Fucking forget about it.
The moment my back fell against the hotel bed, I pulled out my phone to text Ghost. I had a bunch of texts of people asking if I landed yet. Mainly my mother. She's so weird about people traveling. I gave her reassurance, then let Ghost know I was settled in. He got back to me pretty quickly, asking if I was up for dinner. Truthfully, I was tired as fuck. It might only be a quarter to five here, but my body is on Scranton's time clock. It's almost eight there. Regardless, I agreed. I wanted to see him no matter how tired I was.
I'm sure he has to get ready still. Plus it's an hour drive literally anywhere you go in LA, so I've got some time to rest. That's when I realized I wasn't as tired as I thought. I ended up just staring at the ceiling of the hotel room and thinking. And thinking... And thinking... It seems like that's all I do anymore. Whether I'm on tour or at home, I just end up staring up from my bed. Time passed faster than I thought. It was a few minutes after five when there was a knock at the door.
The second I opened up, Ghost attacked me with a hug. He was like an overly excited puppy, but I wasn't complaining. His rosy scented perfume wafted around me, making me loose sight of any of my anxiety. I smiled as I embraced him after I got my bearings from the way he jumped at me.
"I take it you missed me?" I snickered.
Ghost pulled back from me and beamed a smile, "Yes! It was nice to have some time to myself, but I don't like being without my best friends."
"Well, only a few more weeks until we hit the studio and you can see everyone else." I shrugged, "But, for now, you're stuck with just me."
"I'm more than okay with that. You ready to go?" He asked.
I grabbed my room key off of the dresser and made sure I had my phone. "Yep." I replied and we began to walk out, "Where do you plan on taking me?"
"H'umm... Chipolt?"
"Sure." I smiled. Then I pulled out my phone real quick when it buzzed. It was nothing important, so I slipped it back in my pocket. "How are you not dying of heat wearing a sweater?"
Ghost shied away a bit, "Uh, I don't know. I guess I'm used to warm weather from living here."
I glanced over at him as I opened the lobby door. He didn't seem too sure about that. Funny how someone can lose confidence that fast. I know to someone from California, 70 degrees is like 40. Still, it was very off. I didn't realize at the time that the theme of Ghost not being himself continued as our day went on.
It's true that he is shy, but not around me. And not like this either. This wasn't that he was being shy. It was almost like he was broken. All his words came out pretty stumbled and he seemed so small in the way he carried himself. Maybe I'm grasping for something to worry on. I want desperately to have a reason to be there for him. I'd never want to admit that Keri of all people helped him through his difficult time with his grandma passing.
I guess that could be it. He's still upset over her death. It was a little over two months ago now but that kind of thing can stick with someone for years. I don't know. My gut feeling was just gnawing away at me. Something was wrong with him, I just know it.
About halfway through lunch, I dared to ask, "How's everything with Keri?"
His eyes dulled. Ghost pulled at the ends of his sweater, muttering, "Great. We're just... uh... great."
"Are you sure about that?" I asked, immediately kicking myself for doing so. Dumbass, it was fucking obvious he didn't want to talk about it!
He glanced at me for a moment with a black look. "...Yeah."
That should not have taken that long to answer. If you love someone, you're happy to boast about your relationship. To him, it was like something he did wrong and didn't want to talk about. I should've known that it was Keri. It's always fucking Keri.
I sat up straight and reached across the table. Taking his hand, I tried to get him to look up at me. He wouldn't and it was worrying me. I started to gently rub my thumb over his knuckles while I thought of something to say. The mood had dropped drastically. Ghost bowed his head. A few moments later I heard a sniffle.
"Ghost." I softly said. He tried to look up at me the best he could. Light tears were streaming down his eyes. I sighed and stood up, "C'mon, let's get out of here."
He got up too. As we walked out, I put my arm around his back to comfort him. We only made it a few feet outside of the restaurant before stopped. My back fell against the brick wall. I pulled Ghost in close to me and let him cry. He hasn't had a shoulder to cry on this whole time. I knew he needed this. I'm only wondering if I'm being a fool to assume these tears are for his loss.
"Everything's going to be okay." I whispered, "Shhh."
Most his upper half way covered in tattoos. When he was in my arms, sobbing, his sweater got a little misplaced. One of the few areas free of ink was bruised pretty badly. I set my palm against his shoulder and gently ran my fingers over it.
"Where'd you get this bruise?" I asked him. All I received for an answer was a sob. I put both my arms on his shoulders and softly pushed him back a little so he would look at me. The poor thing was fucking broken. "Ghost, please tell me the truth. Did Keri do this to you?"
Ghost hugged himself and tried to push his sweater back into place. He looked off into the distance. With a sniffle, he gave a small nod. Then he started to cry again and fell directly into my chest. "God, I'm so stupid, Ricky." He murmured.
"No, no. Don't say that." I soothed him by petting his hair, "Let's go back to the hotel and talk about this, okay?"
He muttered an "okay" into my chest. Ghost handed me his keys. Yeah, it probably is for the best that I drive, isn't it? He was a bit of a wreck right now. I can't blame him. The only person to blame is Keri. I'm going to kill that mother fucker when I get my hands on him.
