Diary of a Rockstar

Chapter 10

Chapter 10; Let Me Sign::

She never thought she would have to be the one comforting him; but she pulled him into her room by his arm and watched as he sat, almost childishly, in the middle of her bed.  Suddenly, all of her problems seemed minuscule compated to his heartbreak.  He looked up at her, shivering, and his eyes screamed misery.  She'd never seen so much pain in one place before.

"You need to--we have to..." She looked around, "You can't be in those wet clothes."  She leaned forward to him.  She didn't know how to help him.  She reached her trembling hands toward his chest and started to undo the buttons of his red, white, and black flannel top.  His eyes rose to her face as she slowly worked with the shirt, pushing it down off his shoulders.  She looked into his face, so full of sorrow that it almost made her gasp.  She wanted so badly to take his pain and make it hers; because he'd always seemed so happy.  He'd always been the one that made the agony go away.  He'd never been the one to possess it.  And he shouldn't.  There was too much good about him for him to have to feel anything less than perfect happiness.  He'd tried to help her so much and the only thing it had gotten him was pain.  Pain beyond what anyone should have to feel.  But as she looked down at him, hovering above him, her hands planted on his upper arms, clenching his button-down shirt in her fists, there were no more tears.  That part of his grieving was over.  She took a deep breath and pushed his shirt the rest of the way off his arms, pulling it away and looking at the black undershirt that was now covering him.  She stood and took the flannel top to her bathroom, draping it over the shower curtain rod.  She walked back into the room slowly and he hadn't moved.  He was watching her.  She took a deep breath, not sure what to do.  She sat down next to him and looked at him.  He took a deep breath and opened his mouth like he might say something and then his eyes squeezed shut.

"It's okay." He took a deep breath and buried his face into his hands again.  She reached forward and wrapped her arms around him. He fell into her, letting her hold him.  He didn't cry.  He just lay there in her arms.  She felt like it should be a crime, a 20-year-old having to hold a 31-year-old.  But it was oddly comforting to her.  She leaned back into the pillows of he bed, rubbing a palm over his arm.  He sighed and pulled his face free from her shoulder, looking up at her.

"Look at me, being a baby."

"I've been a baby all week. I think it's someone else's turn."  He shook his head.

"I brought you here to help you. Not to make you try to make me feel better."  He extracted his arms and pulled her arms away from him.  When she thought he was going to get up from the bed, he wrapped his arms strongly around her, pressing his sopping wet, black shirt against her.

"That's better." She wondered then how the tables had been turned so easily.

"So what was that phone call earlier?" Again, she knew it was no use in trying to hide things from him.

"A call from home letting me know hw stupid I was for having feelings."  She chuckled a bit, two tears falling from her eyes.  Mike sighed loudly and rubbed a hand through her hair.

"I'm sorry."

"Why?" She sniffed and looked up into his bearded face.  He looked down at her and watched her for a few moments. 

"That you have to hurt so bad." He brushed her hair away from her forehead and eyes.  She looked at his eyes, her hand planted on the middle of his chest.  He pushed her hair away from her face more and examined her face.

"You know what I never realized?" She shook her head.

"No." He smirked and let a small chuckle escape his lips.

"You have really pretty blue eyes." She smirked embarrassedly and looked down at her hands.  His chest rose a great deal with a sigh and she looked back up at him.  He put his hands on her cheeks, over her tear tracks, and pressed his lips to hers gently.  She took a deep breath and tightened her fist into his shirt, closing her eyes.  He broke free for a moment to catch his breath and then pressed his lips lightly back to hers.  She felt him try to deepen the kiss and grunted a bit. He pulled away and she shook her head with her eyes closed.

"We can't."

"I'm sorry." He held her face. "I'm sorry."  She lay her forehead on his chest.  He heaved a sigh and wrapped his arms around her tightly. 

"I'm sorry," he whispered.  She buried her face into his armpit.  She lay there for a few minutes, mulling over what had just happened in her head.  It was a strange feeling.  She felt as if every part of her was tingling.  She hadn't felt wanted in a long time, but she wasn't going to let him do something just because he was upset.  It wasn't the right time.  If he got over the initial shock of his wife leaving him and still wanted to be with her, then she would think about it.  But she didn't want their first time together to be because it just felt like the time to do at the time; because it wasn't the thing to do.  She knew she needed him.  And realized then, as he started to breath a little more deeply, that he needed her, too.  She felt him shift a bit and looked up at him.  He was sleeping soundly.  She studied his face for a moment.  He looked so peaceful in sleep.  He wasn't worried about his wife or how his life was going to turn out or helping her.  He was just resting.  And she realized then that's what she needed: mental rest.  She needed to take a rest from all the things that were overwhelming her.  She just needed to be held.  She just wanted to rest. 

She closed her eyes, nuzzling into his chest and bunched her fists into the material there.  She felt his arms tighten around her and felt safe for the first time in a long time.  She let a sigh escape her and fell into a deep sleep, his arms locked around her body.