breakup

Part 07: The coffin

RICHARD'S POV

Another dull and gloomy day became a melancholic rainy evening in Berlin. I was driving to Black Box Music where we were supposed to have rehearsal. During this break we needed to improve some parts of the show that we weren't satisfied with. Yes, the other band members noticed a lot of mistakes in my and Paul's playing. Hitting the wrong strings, stupid bloopers, shouting a wrong number while counting during Sonne... We have never had so many mistakes during concerts as now.

I was angry at Paul. We were late and it was all his fault. He had more than enough time to get back home on time and get his own car. But he stayed in Berlin suburb way too long, to the last moment, calling me in the end to come and pick him up. The others must have already arrived, and now they must have been waiting for us. I drove very fast. It was dead, cold silence.

"Richard, talk to me."

"I have nothing to say to you."

"You used to have a lot of things to say to me before", Paul said quietly and I clenched my teeth, but still stubbornly keeping my eyes on the road. The small guitarist hesitated awhile until he spoke again. "Seriously, Richard. We need a talk. We haven't been talking for a very long time."

Yes, that's right. We haven't. What we had once it's now lost. Like it was another distant time, seems like ages passed since we were smiling to each other... Oh fuck, how I miss Paul's smile... How I fucking miss all we once had... But too much bad things happened since then... One bad event pulls the another, and so on and so on, until a huge wound was created between us, the wound that seems widening more and more, with no chance of suturing it again... I looked at my car's digital clock to see what time it was. Fucking too late. I was nervous. I drew a cigarette from a box and lit it, speeding up the car even more.

"Please, Richard, don't smoke now! Concentrate on your drive, it's almost night, and it's raining..."

"Shut it!" I snapped at Paul who immediately obeyed it. I really wasn't in a mood to listen to his stupid advice, not now when we were late because of him. Also I hated to admit I was doing something wrong and the easiest way for me was just to yell at him. The small guitarist mopishly bent his head down, staring at his feet.

Fuck. Why am I acting that way? Why am I torturing him so much? Why am I making him such pain? Am I still mad at him for breaking up with me? Yes, I am so pissed at him, but even also at myself, at my behavior, at everything that happened... Fuck, I couldn't stop thinking about what I had done to him the last night of our concert... I lost my control, I was drunk, so mad at him for saying that words about my narcissistic addiction that I... That I... Scheisse, it was so hard to even think about it, even harder to talk, and make an apologize almost impossible, although the feeling of guilt became so strong that I thought it would eat me alive...

"Richard, please, stop the car", Paul uttered. "We can't talk like this. I... I need a talk. Seriously. Can't stand it any longer." I looked at him. He was crying. His tears pointed out the dark circles under his eyes even more, as if he wasn't sleeping for nights. I frowned and clenched my teeth so strongly that I almost bit off my cigarette. Don't do this to me, Paul. Don't make it all harder to me, please, don't...

"Alright, I confess", Paul spoke again after few minutes of silence. "I'm guilty for everything. For the stripper and stuff. I made a mistake. Sorry for leaving you then. Now, I just want you back. I just want you to forgive me. Please. I learnt my lesson and I can't stand it any longer. I want you to stop this cruel game." Tears were pouring down his face. "I don't know if you see it, but this thing is worsening more and more. And I'm... I'm really afraid of where will it take us..."