Skybreak [not to be continued]

XV

The rain continued to fall from the stars, as I watched it patter against the window ledge of my bedroom. I sighed, knowing that it would not be stopping anytime soon, and that it was preventing me from busking. My phone had numerous unread texts from the four boys, but I had not spoken to anyone (not even Alaska) since the rain began.

It started off as a simple dribble whilst I was walking back from Luke, Ash, Cal and Mikey's house - but it was nearly a storm now. Rosa loved the rain, and storms. She always used to run out in it, especially in summer. She loved the summer rain. And I would laugh from the warmth behind a window, or the shelter of an umbrella as the water plastered her hair to her face, her clothes soaked and the tiny drops ran down her face – but she never cared and continued to stay in the downpour.

I think Alaska had realised that it had something to do with Rosa: she had not disturbed me since the rain began. I hadn't left the flat, and the boys were uninformed of my situation. Deep in thought, I heard my phone buzz again - only this time it was much further away.

The realisation that I was truly alone finally stuck me, and clutching my pillow, the fabric stretching in my closed fists, as the tears began to fall. I fell down to the floor, sobbing quietly for the beautiful angel I had lost to heaven. Ed Sheeran's wise words of 'Maybe you were needed up there and we're still unaware as why...' echoed around my pounding head. A month, it had been. A twelfth of a year I had now been living without my best friend. The noise of my uneven breathing was syncopated to the steady pitter-patter as the rain continued to fall, the only sense of continuity in this crazy, forever changing world.

As I heard my phone buzz again, I commanded myself to receive it from the other room. I cautiously took small but clumsy steps towards it, my eyes clenched closed to prevent the constant dribble of the now-falling tears. My bare feet dragged slowly across the cold, wooden floor and a harsh noise was produced as I stumbled. I swayed slowly as I walked, carefully avoiding doors and inanimate objects the best I could with my impaired vision.

I grabbed the stupid device from its charger on the worktop and pulled. I heard the charger itself fall from the wall and detach itself from the USB cable, leaving me with my phone attached to a lead. Nevertheless, I dragged it with me back to the solitary confinement of my room where I harshly wiped my eyes and switched my phone on.

The amount of missed calls I had was astounding, and as I stared at the screen – the whole concept of time seeming strangely foreign. As another minute passed, a new call came in and I hesitantly answered it.

"Grey, you have no idea how worried we've been!" The voice rambled from the other side, Luke. "How are you? You haven't replied to any text or anything and we've not seen you for days."

It took me a minute to process his words but when I did, my answer was simple. "No. I'm not okay." The screen of my phone was damp with tears, and before a response came through the receiver, I had hung up.

Feeling just as alone as ever, I chucked my phone at the opposite wall: I heard the screen crack on impact. Damn humanity. All I wanted to do was sit here and sob; there was nothing stopping me as I resumed cover under my duvet. Knowing that I had successfully annoyed nearly everyone I knew in London, I left myself and my emotions locked in my room.

~

Two days after my breakdown, the rain had stopped and there was no trace of the storms – not even a puddle on the pavement. Determined to get out of the house, I grabbed my guitar and walked to the nearest tube station; one on a major line so I knew that I would get an audience, to sing some songs of importance to me. I had a few songs that I had written on my dark day which I was not hoping to perform until I had spoken to Cal and ran all my song by him. Seeing as him and Luke were the band's designated song writers, I had decided I wanted their input before anything I had written made it into the public.

My phone was in for repairs, as the screen had been damaged beyond use and it needed replacing which would be costing me over a week of good busking days. II hadn't heard from any of the boys, nor seen them around the city. From my brief conversation with Luke, I guess they thought I needed more time to recover from my breakdown. I, myself, still wasn't too sure if I was to be okay. It wasn't until the three month mark that I had fully understood the toll that Rosa's death had taken on my mental state.

Among these thoughts, I still set myself the task to sing for the few people crowded around me, locals who recognised me and were awaiting one of my performances that had been lacking in the last week or so. Determined to impress, I thought I would stick to yet another well-known song with an emotional and true line in: Small Bump.

"You are my one and only, you can wrap your fingers around my thumb and hold me tight, for you will be alright."

Tears brimmed to my eyes as I sung the final verse, the audience looking sympathetically at me as I tried to contain myself by moving swiftly into the next song. It was a classic by the amazing Beatles' member, John Lennon.

"Why must they be alone? Why must they be alone? Yes it's real, well it's real love."

j]