Hardest of Hearts (Lauren/you) ON HIATUS

Done

The smooth velvety feeling in that voice was recognisable anywhere i was. My heart palpitated rapidly in my chest, trembling hands folded around the phone. The sweat that trickled down my face increased ten fold. I didn't want this to be real at all. I just didn't wanna believe a second of this moment. I hoped it was just the drugs that had fucked my brain up enough for it to be this way. I couldn't find the words to respond almost like someone had stuffed cinnamon down my throat. Mouth all dry and the saliva absent in the time it was most needed. 

"Y/N? Answer me please?" She asked again, knowing the predicament i was in right now. 

"Lauren?" I asked thinking that maybe that's all she wanted to hear from me. 

"Y/N?...Thank god you're alive," relief was full in her voice, a sigh had escaped her lips effortlessly,"I've been worried out of my mind about you..." 

This ultimately surprised me on a whole other level. She wasn't supposed to be worried about me let alone actually making the effort to call , the past few months happened didn't they? 

My hand shook uncontrollably as I tried to think about what this cal would mean. 

"Why are you calling me?" I sounded way more defensive than I intended to but that was just from the effort it took for me to get out a proper breath as I spoke. 

"Your brother." That fucking bastard. I don't recall giving him permission to let anyone let alone Lauren, know about what was going on with me. Since when had he ever come up to check up on me? Never. Anger boiled and surged throughout me. My knuckles paper white from the force in which i gripped the phone in my hand. "He's been telling me about you everyday since we've left."

"And why would he do that?" I needed to know what the fuck was going on. To be honest none of this made any fucking sense in my mind right now except that it left me livid. 

"Because he cares about you, Y/N, you need to get help, none of this is right for anyone." 

I didn't want her to pity me. To have the woman I loved feel sorry for me made me feel worse than any of the torture I've endured combined. Tears began to roll down my face uncontrollably. But i wasn't about to let her know that. No fucking way was I gonna go back to being that lost, damaged and scared boy again. 

"Leave me alone. I don't want your help Lauren. I don't wanna hurt anymore. Please...just let me go. Let me be. Let me just..." The words spilled out of me like toxic chemicals, they were burning and damaging her as much as they did me, but this was the only way.  

"I promised I would never give up on you Y/N and that's exactly what I'm doing."

"I don't wanna do this anymore L..." And the line went flat. 

I threw my phone onto the bed letting myself collapse beside it. I had made sure that Lauren would be as far away from my life as possible. I wasn't going to let her go down with me even if it did mean it would destroy me inside and out. 

A week later....

I was back in the studio, where producers remained puzzled over what I wanted. The band grew tired of me but I didn't care. Sydney tried reconnecting with me in the ways we would but every time Camila joined us she looked at me that pitiful look that always sent my blood pressure skyrocketing. I knew Camila would work to find out how I was doing. She wasn't exactly the most subtle person when it came to delving deeper into questions I had already answered a million times. I always carried a flask with me when it came to the studio recordings despite being warned numerous times that at this rate I was gonna be forced to go to rehab. But i knew it wold never get to that point, as long as the studio album was done and the sales rose up they would soon forget about me and that's all I wanted. The only times that the band and I could forget all the tension was when we played, recorded and rehearsed. It was the only time i could relive even a glimpse of the feeling that Lauren gave me off stage. 

When it came around to interviews again I deliberately skipped questions to do with my love life seeing as it was quite non-existent. I only ever let them know that this next album was built around life and all the misadventures it entailed. Ethan always tried to interject the gloominess of my answers but I recognised that he had no right if i was the one who had written almost all of the songs except for Jonahs dedication to his father in one of the acoustic recordings and Sydney's love letter turned song for Camila. Ethan was pretty much expendable by this point but I wasn't going to let him know that. He was an amazing lead guitarist but there were a million more like him in this world of 7 billion inhabitants. 

What added to my nightmare career was the fact that the stylists covered my pallid skin in as much powders and creams as possible if ti meant I would have the glow i once had reappear. One of them, Sky, knew that I couldn't give a damn about what I looked like anymore, but nevertheless she styled my already outgrown hair so that any evidence of mess in my life was unknown to the public eye. Tabloids had only skimmed the surface with that stuff as paparazzi snapped pics of the occasional blunt in my hand while hanging out with some friends or the flask that stuck out of my pockets. They were just a bunch of vultures trying to rip off even a tiny piece off the carcass that was me.

"Hey Y/N!" I walking out of the studio when Jonah caught up to me with his bass in hand. Apart from everyone else he was the only one who tried to truly understand me since he had been in a similar state after losing his dad. "Hey man," I proceeded to walk alongside him as he patted me on the shoulder, pulling out a packet of smokes smiling at me. 

"You always know what I need brother."  He chuckled punching me in the arm as I snatched the packet out of his hands.