Only Summer Loves October - Ryden

Chapter One - To Hit A Mood That's Being Demanded

I can hear rowdy drunks leaving the local bar at the end of the street, which legally should have closed hours ago. I smother my head under the pillow as the sound of desperate women cackling echoes through my apartment. If I stay like this long enough I might pass out and finally get some sleep. New York still doesn't feel like home to me - I've technically been living here for five years, albeit not by choice. But no, its not like home. I fail to feel that rush of emotion others describe when returning from months on tour. Admittedly I've never felt 'homesick', I don't know what it is to feel grounded.

You could almost say it's obligatory for me to own an apartment here, Pete did his best finding a place that I could at least be comfortable in. The twenty foot ceilings and 180 degree views of the city overwhelmed me at first, now its just another reminder that I have more money than I can spend. How many people live alone in their own penthouse at the age of twenty-five?

I forget I even own a clock until 4:30am when the sound of every tick is deafening. Sleep is beyond me lately, I don't see the point in battling with my insomnia if Jon will be calling by 7 - he never trusts me to be anywhere on time. Neither do I, I just don't care as much as he does.

Drinking coffee whilst watching the city lights fade from the balcony is a regular occurrence these days. The gay couple in the apartment below have never complained about me talking and singing to myself out here at all hours, but from what I've heard (and seen), I'd guess they don't get much sleep either. I finish my morning routine with a cigarette accompanied by some Pop Tarts because no one taught me how to be a grown up. This time of day goes the slowest, no one's here to avert my thoughts from the mess that's in my mind. Still - the sun rises and the sound of the ticking clock disappears when I turn the radio on loud before getting in the shower.

"Good morning you!" the sweet yet confident voice is coming from outside the bathroom, I can't believe I forgot she was here. I don't bother covering myself in the shower as she casually strolls in, what's the point after last night? Once again Pete rising to the occasion, its been two weeks since I spotted her and this is her sixth visit but the first time she's stayed. Did she drug me? I'll admit it's been going well between us but I don't remember authorizing this little sleepover. 

"Oh, you're still here?" The words automatically pour out before I have time to think of a more appropriate response. Soph raises an eyebrow, okay she didn't like that. I'll try again: "I've got time spare before I have to leave." I stretch my hand out to try pull her towards the shower, she scoffs and doesn't look impressed. Well I give up, she's proving far more difficult than my usual.

***

I knew getting to the studio early would make Jon happy, he's put up with so much of my shit lately. It's a weird feeling - being here first rather than last. A phone starts ringing ... we have a phone in here? I guess I better answer it then. 

"Hello?"

"Ryan, is that you?" Jon sounds skeptical.

"No, it's George Bush." 

After an uncomfortably long silence he replies with "huh?" Yet another time Jon doesn't have the mental capacity to appreciate my sense of humor. 

"Yeah it's me" I let out a sigh of frustration. "Get your ass down here and help me set up".

"Fuck me that's a first, you getting to the studio before me. I'm looking forward to seeing what you've got planned." He hangs up before I can tell him there is nothing planned, I simply needed an excuse to leave the apartment.

I've been naïve for years, who knew we had to set up our equipment ourselves? I guess that's Jon's doing too - I have to stop taking him for granted. After a full five minutes of trying to get prepped, I crash out on the sofa in defeat. I tried. I hear the door open and jump to my feet, trying to look like I know exactly what I'm doing - sums up my life pretty well.