𝐒𝐩𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐏𝐮𝐫𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐇𝐚𝐢𝐫

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟖

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐋𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐠𝐞

579 words

One week later

The cold outside was still present, the smell of Christmas long gone now. Veruca sat up and rubbed her eyes as she glanced around the room. The spot next to her was cold, James had gotten up a few hours ago. He had been practicing and writing nonstop after he had his cast removed.

When she walked into the living room, she was met with flying hair and a heavy guitar riff. "That sounds great, baby. Is that something new you've been working on?"

She grabbed a cup of tea before sitting down on the couch. James's heavy breathing could be heard as he set down his Flying V Guitar.

"Yeah, it's not much right now." He shrugged as he sat down next to her. Her hand wrapped around his shoulder instinctively as he leaned back. She always was more affectionate with him than he was with her. "How're you doing?" She questioned him as his gaze shifted towards the floor.

"I'm fine, really. You don't need to keep tabs on me." He grumbled as he shrugged off her arm. She was beyond hurt considering how close they had grown. She knew that this was his way of coping, but man did it suck.

"I'm not keeping tabs on you. I'm sorry that I give a fuck about you." She spits as she walks back into the kitchen, she begins to dry the now washed dishes to keep herself busy. He's now attempting to calm his nerves as his breathing increases.

"Fuck!" He exclaims as he punches the wall. She whips around in fear. "Don't you pull that shit on me, James. I want to help you but you keep pushing me away!" He sighs and runs a hand through his hair.

"Fine, you want to know what's going on with me? It should've been me who fucking died. Cliff was the best out of all of us and he's gone. It's so hard for me to wake up every day and pretend that I'm fine. I miss him so fucking much, he was our brother."

He was in tears now and it was so hard to watch him suffer. You weren't allowed to cry in this day and age. It wasn't the "metal" thing to do.

Veruca simply wrapped her arms around him and rubbed his back in soothing circles. "I know, I'd only known him a short time but he seemed like a wonderful guy."

Her voice is soothing as he lets out his pent up emotions. She knew that therapy wasn't an option because he would forever be called a pussy. You were just supposed to suck up your feelings and get over them. That was that. There was no discussion. It was causing a rift in this band though, and James was crumbling.

A week has now passed and the boys are back on tour. Veruca and James have hit a rough patch in their relationship but they're both trying to make it work. James is starting to become his usual self again since he's been spending more time with Kirk. He's smiling and laughing a lot more.

Veruca sees him sprawled out on one of the couches in the back. She wordlessly puts a hand in his, he gently moves to kiss her knuckles as he looks up at her. "I'm sorry." He whispers.

She sighs and rests her forehead on his. "I'm sorry too, I just want this to work."