fireworks. (royce)

r

I said I'd never miss you but I guess you never know.

I had yelled at Jacob.

I told him I wouldn't miss him, that if he decided to leave, I wouldn't care. I wasn't going to chase after him and beg him to take me back.

He told me that he wouldn't even look my way if I had. That hurt, it hurt because Jacob was always the sweetest person in the room, he was as nice as he could be. I was the reason why our relationship hadn't worked out. My demons whispered in my ears every chance they got and my blood seeped through my skin, staining the white porcelain of the bathroom sink. My pills were scattered in various places, the orange bottles sticking out like sore thumbs.

Jacob had told me it wasn't my fault that things weren't working out, but I had said to him that it was. Jacob blamed my illness and I blamed myself. My illness is me, we are in the same body, we are the same person.

Jacob couldn't handle someone like me, someone who needed heavy coaxing to get out of bed, someone who needed to take pills to keep his imbalance in balance.

I know I shouldn't have been so angry with him, but I was. Jacob had made things just a bit easier for me. He let me tell him things I couldn't tell anyone else, he helped me clean the bathroom and he made late night trips to the pharmacy all for me.

Jacob was my outlet, and he left.

Leo was by my feet again, but this time he was snoozing. I had the urge to do that too, but it was beginning to get late and I had somewhere to be. I stood up and gently nudged Leo away from me, watching him leave the room. I followed him out with my notebook, guitar case, and pick.

I murmured to Leo that I would be back, then I was walking out of the apartment and to the bar that was three blocks away. I booked gigs there because the owner of the bar and the regulars liked it when I came around and sang. Jacob liked it when I would sing too, which wasn't very often, but he told me my voice was pretty. I never really believed him or the people at the bar, I was just a college kid who was looking for a way to make some extra cash so I could keep buying my medicine.

The bouncer let me into the bar without asking for I.D. because he knew who I was. I was old enough to drink but I didn't because my meds didn't allow it. The bar was a little old thing, it was cozy. It never really got too crowded and busy here.

"Chresanto! Wow, I haven't seen you in a few weeks, kid. How've you been?" The owner of the bar was an older man named Paul, he had four kids and a wife. I would tell you more, but that's all I can remember.

"Fine" I murmured, shifting my weight from foot to foot, my notebook tucked between my side and my arm.

Paul looked me over, letting me know that he was worried, I could see it all over his face.

"You know... When I noticed it'd been a while since I'd seen you... I thought you..."

I blinked, clutching the handle of my guitar case just a bit tighter.

"Not yet" I murmured.

"I... No, good that's good, that's really great actually. I was worried, what would I do without you coming around to keep the patrons happy and satisfied, eh? They'd miss you".

I wanted to tell him that no, they wouldn't. No one would miss me, not even Jacob. Instead, I just glanced towards the stage, looking over the set up. A dimly lit spot light, a stool, and a microphone with a stand were there, and the two speakers were on the wooden floor.

"Can I go sing?"

"Yeah, of course. You've been working on some new songs?"

"A few".

"Great" Paul smiled, it was a weak one. He motioned for me to head for the stage and I did. I climbed onto the platform, taking a seat on the stool and pulling my guitar from the case, along with the pick. My notebook lay at my feet, open.

I turned on the microphone, clearing my throat and flinched when the mic feedback hit my ears.

"Uh... Hi, I'm Chresanto..." I spoke slowly into the microphone because I didn't quite know what to say. People were looking at me. "A lot of you guys here know me and what I do, I haven't been around in a while but, um... I'm still here, I guess".

I heard someone cough, but I couldn't see who it was.

"I wrote a song, a new one... About someone. It doesn't have a title yet because I couldn't think of one".

I positioned my guitar so the bottom curve was resting comfortably against my thigh. My left hand came to rest on the back of the guitar neck, my fingers wrapping around and reaching the strings.

The song was about Jacob, about how he was someone who I could trust, but I couldn't anymore because he'd left when I really needed him the most. I'd made him sound like a really bad person in the song, but I hadn't meant to. I'd gotten angry while writing it, then I cried because as I read over the lyrics, I realized he wasn't truly like that, then I went into the bathroom and I didn't come out until after I had cleaned the sink up.

When I finished singing all of my songs, I left the stage and people clapped for me. Paul was standing by the door with an envelope in his hand. He held it out to me and I took it.

"Really great songs, Chresanto, you've got a knack for songwriting and singing. Are you thinking about going all the way? You could sign to a label and make it big".

"I don't think so".

"Oh? Why not?"

"My songs aren't really made for people all around the world to hear".

"I can understand that" Paul glanced at the white envelope in my hand, "what are you going to do with your money? I gave you extra".

"Pay for my meds, and more cleaning spray for the sink".

Paul looked at me and sighed, "it'll get better, you know?"

"I don't think so" I moved my guitar case over to my other hand, "but thanks anyway, bye Paul".

I pushed open the bar door, hearing him quietly say in return, "bye, Chresanto".