Something More | Randy

chapter twenty-three | space

The sun disappeared below the horizon as Rye's little red car pulled out of the driveway. From the perspective of my bedroom window, it looked as though Rye was taking the light with him as he left. In more ways than one, my world was darker with him gone.

But it had to be done.

'But' was my least favourite word at the moment. I love you but I don't know if I can do this. I love you but we need to think about the band. I love you but this isn't who I am to the world. I wish we could just replace that stupid word with a full stop and be done with it. But the 'buts' would always creep back in, the little barbs of reality that tore at my happiness.

Of course, later that night when I tried to fall asleep alone the regrets hit me even harder. Wrapped up with him was the only place where I truly believed everything was going to turn out alright. I missed his body- the comfort of it, but also the things it did to my brain. I thought yearningly on the unfulfilled wish I'd left hanging on his lips before we fell apart; 'I want to fuck you.' I curled myself into the sheets, whining needily into them, wishing he was between my legs making his desire a reality.

Instead, he was far away, making yet another decision that would make or break my entire world.

When the sleeping mask, essential oils and calming jungle noises soundtrack all proved useless, I gave up on sleep altogether. I spent the night at the piano whacking out the arrangement I had failed to find inspiration for during the day, trying my best to think pragmatically about parts and not fume when I thought of Jack or cry when I thought of Rye. It got easier after the first couple of hours.

***

"Andy!" Came a voice. I jolted awake. I groaned as I realised I had crashed in my chair with my neck at an awkward angle. Massaging it, I turned to the doorway.

"Yeah?"

"Woah," Brook gaped, "you look like crap, Fovvs. Have you been there all night?"

"Pretty much," I sighed, "what's up?"

"I just want to check if you're alright. I saw Rye's car is gone." Brook perched gingerly on the edge of my bed.

"He's gone for a while," I said vaguely. Brook looked upset.

"He really left? Because of Jack's little comment?"

"No, it was my decision in the end. Think we both just realised we might have jumped in a little fast," I mumbled grumpily.

"Oh. But you still love each other?" Brook questioned. It was like explaining a separation to a child, telling them their parents still loved one another but sometimes grownups needed some time apart.

"Yes, I still love him," I replied softly, not wanting to bullshit him, "I just don't know if he's ready for this. I wouldn't want to risk it for the band."

"Well personally I reckon the band is best when you're happy. And if you guys are happy together then just be together. Don't worry about us."

I sighed. "Thanks Brook, but I don't think it's that simple."

"Well, what else are you gonna do? Go back to being mates? After you... you know," he quirked an eyebrow suggestively. 

I snorted. "What's a hand-job between friends?" I muttered sarcastically under my breath.

"Fovvs!" Exclaimed Brooklyn, both scandalised and impressed. 

Jokes aside however, he did have a fair point. Would it even be possible for Rye and I to go back to being just friends? Could I handle that any more than I could handle a hot and cold semi-relationship?