Saying goodbye wasn't easy but not as hard as I'd expected. Knowing that Lana would be waiting for me when I'd get home, with plans to spend more time together, was making it less painful. She also looked so much better already and I couldn't wait to see her in three weeks, even healthier, since the cancer was rapidly vanishing from her body. We'd have reason to celebrate upon my return, most likely. She had also been avoiding any talk of Paris lately which gave me hope that maybe, there was a chance she would be staying after all. Considering everything that had happened between us, she could have changed her mind. She knew how I felt about her and although I could never blame her for not letting me keep her here, I didn't want to give up on the possibility just yet.

I hugged and kissed her before getting into the van, already missing her hugs and kisses. The guys gave me weird looks, not quite understanding the relationship Lana and I had. And that was okay. I hadn't told them about what had happened after my grandma's funeral. They knew I had been staying with her but I could tell they thought it was just something casual, something to get over the loss I had suffered. Maybe they didn't think I was even capable of more. Was I? The truth was, I was still in the middle of figuring it out. But I knew for sure that I wanted to make the effort.

It was the same shit every night. Frank was usually the first one to get drunk, having several beers in the van on our way to the venue. Then Ray was next as soon as we arrived, while Mikey preferred the mellowness of the pills instead. I stayed away from it all as much as I could, smoking too much and biting my nails down to the quick, feeling anxious all the time. This was the ultimate test, I told myself over and over again. I had to do this, for Lana. She had gotten me back on track, she had shown me how strong I could really be. Only, Lana wasn't here. And I was weak again.

I had tried to call her before the show, remembering she had had her last treatment that day. But she had been in a bad mood, feeling sick and I didn't blame her for not wanting to talk much. If anything, I felt guilty now, for not being there for her when she needed me the most. Maybe I was selfish, I thought, not able to shake that feeling off for the rest of the night.

'Hey Gee, you gonna come? Mark's taking us out for drinks!' Matt said as I finished packing up my stuff backstage.

Mark was some promoter from LA and to be honest, I didn't like him. He had been watching us for a couple of shows, trying to decide whether or not he wanted to book us for next year's Warped Tour and maybe some smaller gigs in between. He treated us like he needed to pimp us out and I was shocked to see that the guys fell for it. Or maybe they just took advantage of the free booze. Either way, I tried my best to stay away from him, knowing he was bad news.

'Nah, I'm gonna try to call Lana again. And pass out in the van.' I replied but they wouldn't take no for an answer.

'Come on dude. It's not like she's your wife or something. You gotta stop worrying. One night of letting loose is not gonna hurt you. It's important we get these gigs, man. And Mark's not happy about the fact that the lead singer is constantly ditching him.' Frank rolled his eyes at me.

Yeah, they were right, it was important for us. Warped Tour was a huge opportunity and if one night out meant gaining a good contact, I had to make the sacrifice.

'Alright. But I'm not drinking. And you guys better not bitch about it.' I finally sighed and they cheered.

*

My throat was burning and cold sweat was trickling down my back as I got up from the bathroom floor after finally having been able to get the puking under control. It seemed as though the last round of treatment had hit me harder than the ones before, almost on purpose. Yeah, don't forget me bitch, the chemicals in my body laughed at me. Don't worry, I never will, I answered. As I made myself a fresh cup of camomile tea, I noticed my phone vibrating. Shit, five missed calls from Gerard. I had been rude to him earlier, telling him to leave me alone, while my stomach had clenched. He had been understanding but worried, of course and now I felt like shit for hanging up on him. I pressed the buttons on the phone, attempting to call him back but only his voicemail answered. He was probably asleep already, I thought, after all it was almost 2am in the morning.

'Hey...I'm sorry I missed your calls and I'm sorry I was so short with you earlier...I just...well I was throwing up, you know the deal. I'm really sorry. I hope you're okay and the show went well. Umm...yeah, I'm gonna go to bed so talk to you tomorrow? I miss you.' was the message I left him.

But he didn't call the next day. Or the day after. I texted him, assuming he was just too busy to talk. Not a big deal, I wasn't the possessive type. And I had stuff to do anyhow. Since the clinical trial was finished, I had to do a lot of tests which required a whole day at the hospital in New Hampshire. To my surprise, my mother accompanied me, fussing, being annoying, as always, but I was grateful that she decided to come, though the four-hour car ride with her already exhausted me.

'So, you and Gerald-' she started but I interrupted.

'Gerard.'

'Gerard. Yes. Well are you guys serious or?' no mom, please don't do this.

'Mom, are we really gonna have that conversation?'

'Why not? I'm interested. He seemed very nice. And good-looking. Cute. He's got that whole mysterious vibe going on, right? He's in a band?' she ignored me and kept talking, much to my annoyance.

'Yes.' I simply answered.

'Well tell me more about him!' she pressed and I sighed.

It was difficult to describe Gerard. He was so many things. And I didn't have the vocabulary, couldn't think of the right words for him. Even when I tried it seemed inadequate.

'He's...an artist. In every way possible.' I blushed involuntarily, my thoughts drifting to the most intimate moments we had shared. I looked out the window, trying to avoid her curious glance. 'And he doesn't know how amazing he really is. Which is a shame because he spends all his time and energy showing me how amazing he thinks I am.'

My mother cleared her throat awkwardly. 'He sounds just like your father.'

I swallowed hard as an effort to keep the tears inside but they flooded my eyes immediately at the mention of my dad. My mom never talked about him. I never talked about him. Ever since his death, almost ten years ago, we had avoided the topic and everything to do with him. I hadn't even talked about him with Gerard. My father had died in a car accident on his way home from work and although my mother had suffered, grieving for him for years, I still thought of her as a traitor for getting married again. Which was ridiculous. But as much as I had tried to be happy for her, happy that she had gotten over her pain and had been able to move on, I had never forgiven her.

'Oh please. What a cliché. Finding a guy who is just like my dad.' I shook my head, pretending to be over the conversation.

*

Just one. It had started with just one.

Mark had dragged us out to a bar and at first, I was perfectly fine, not drinking, just smoking my Marlboro Lights, staying relatively quiet while Ray and Frank talked business with Mark. This was chill, I had thought, maybe I had worried too much. Maybe he wasn't such a douchelord after all. By midnight, I had warmed up to him, although he was drunk and I wasn't, I had still been able to talk to him, discuss the tour, find out which other bands he was planning to put on the bill, most of them, amongst my favorites. I was getting excited. He had bought me a drink, just a beer and even though I was protesting at first, eventually I had given in, thinking, what's the big deal? It's just a beer, it's not like I'm an alcoholic or something, I wouldn't even get tipsy from it.

But then, just when I had thought we would leave to go back to the hotel, he had brought us to a strip club. I hated strip clubs. I hated being a guy who went to strip clubs, watching girls, barely legal, take their clothes off for a couple of dollars. I wasn't that guy. It was degrading and I had fled to the bathroom, disgusted by myself. For having that one drink. For being in this place. For selling myself, for selling my morals and my promise to Lana for a couple of gigs. And yes, I could have left, I could have stopped them. But for some reason, I didn't.

'Hey kiddo, loosen up. These girls are enjoying themselves. You should too. And while you're at it, you should enjoy them.' Mark had followed me, laughing his head off at his stupid pun.

'I think I'm just gonna take a cab back to the hotel and go to sleep. You guys have fun.' I replied, splashing my face with cold water.

'Gerard, come on. Don't let me down.' he pulled a little plastic bag out of his pocket, a white powdery substance in it.

Shit.

'Mark, look, I really can't.'

'Yeah, the guys have told me about your little girlfriend back in New York. But hey, a little night of fun never hurt anybody. She'll never find out. Besides, it's just some blow. Just to take the edge off.' he said and I frowned. What the fuck had the others been thinking, mentioning Lana to this guy. She was none of their fucking business!

I got angry. Angry enough to not give a shit anymore. Yeah, what exactly would be so wrong about having a little fun? I deserved it. I had been good. One night wouldn't make me an addict. Lana didn't understand because she was a goody two-shoes. A little spoiled girl from Paris with rich parents. What did she know about what it was like to be me? I loved her but she knew nothing. Mark smiled at me, knowing he had me where he wanted me as he emptied the content of the bag, breaking it up into two lines with his credit card and rolling up a five dollar bill.

'Just this one.' I said and he nodded, still smiling as he handed me the banknote and I leaned down to snort the coke, the familiar sting in my nostril giving me shivers.

*

'Hey Lana...' a sleepy Gerard greeted me as he finally picked up the phone.

He sounded weird. Not just tired or exhausted. Weird.

'Hey yourself. Are you okay? Didn't you get my messages?' I asked, trying to hide the obvious hurt in my voice and failing miserably.

'Umm...maybe. I dunno. My phone was missing for a while, I only just found it. Sorry.' I knew he was lying. And I knew what that meant.

I was quiet for a while, taking a few deep breaths while arguing with myself in my head. Had he fucked another girl? Had he gotten wasted again? No, no, NO, Lana. Don't do this to yourself, I thought. He's probably just tired and you can't blame him for having more important things to do than replying to your texts or returning your phone calls. He's on tour, for fuck's sake. Don't be so controlling. It's lame.

'Oh. Okay. It's okay. Don't worry. How are you?' I asked, doing my best to sound normal.

'I'm good. Just...fucking exhausted. Listen, Lana, I gotta go. Have to get ready for soundcheck. I call you later?'

'Sure. Of course. Have fun. I see you on friday.' I replied.

'Yeah. Friday. Can't wait. Bye.' he hung up and I stared at the phone in my hand.

As much as I wanted to lie to myself, I couldn't. Something was wrong. Maybe it wasn't as bad as my initial thoughts had suggested but something had definitely happened and he wanted to keep it from me. Ugh, it was probably Mikey again. They had most likely gotten into a fight and who knows what he had said to him. Fuck. The New York show was in four days and right now, I honestly thought about staying at home. I knew I was being paranoid and overdramatic but my gut told me that Gerard didn't want to see me anyway. No, he wasn't my boyfriend. We weren't in a serious, committed relationship. But it still stung like a bitch.

He didn't call that night and I cried myself to sleep, feeling stupid and more vulnerable than ever before.