Part Two: Showers in the Vicinity

Insanity comes in two basic varieties: slow and fast. I'm not talking about the onset of duration, I mean the day to day business of being nuts.

Kissing Mikey wasn't magical, but it wasn't ordinary either. I went back to my spot and continued to write; writers remember everything; there's some talent needed to be a writer but the real thing is to remember the story of every scar.

The next day was the same, and the next. I lie in Mikey’s bunk while he lies in Frank's. Frank walks past him, leaving him asleep or awake and paralyze—it's too tough to tell. Everyone on the bus is asleep, almost, I lie there with my eyes closed but awake nonetheless.
Frank let's out a obnoxious sigh, causing Gerard to roll over in his bunk and ask him what's wrong.

“Mikey and Lacey, I think they're hooking up.” He said.

“I doubt that,” Gerard huffed.

“I saw Mikey kiss her!” Frank protested and my stomach dropped.

“I also doubt that. He hasn't been the most sincere person to us let alone her, remember what he's going through,” Gerard said before drifting off into sleep.

I curl up tighter and push my eyelids and close together and as tightly as I could possibly allow. I did not dream.

*****
Thankfully, we ditched the tour bus to have the luxury of staying in a hotel for a couple of nights. The entire upper floor was reserved for the entire staff (which was a lot of people), and I planned to end up in a room by myself, whether they liked it or not.
I sat on the queen sized bed and dug through my bag, displacing my notebook, ID (which I found under Frank's pillow) and loose pencils and loose change until I found the bottle of pills I had found under Mikey's sheets a few days prior. I opened the cap (opening medicine bottles even with a childproof lid was second nature to me) and spilled out ten pills. I lined them up in my open palm, and took them one by one, counting. When I popped the pills I almost felt empowered; however the medicine could not help my pain, which was like a deep, physical, sobbing.

The room began to spin around me and I watched colors come in and out of view. The door suddenly latched open as someone slid the key through the identifying mechanism, it was Mikey who looked over at me (at least I think he did, his eyes were behind those damn sunglasses), and saw me sitting on the bed swaying back and forth.

I giggled when he appeared in my face; nothing much like being drugged. I knew my eyes must have looked blank, wild, or suicidal. The world spun around faster and then suddenly turned upside down. The last thing I saw was the floor.

Cold water sprayed on my face and I started to cough. My eyes opened and adjusted to the scene around me: I was in the bathroom shower of the hotel room, holding me, was Mikey. He placed soft kisses on my neck as I slowly started to realize what occurred: the medicine was too much for me, and I nearly overdosed.

Our clothes soaked through, he lifted me out of the shower without a word, and carried me to the counter where the sinks hung, and set me up there. He stripped of his red leather jacket and slid off his boots. The antipsychotic that was showing itselves out of my system caused me to do the same. With a slight movement I lifted the sopping shirt over my head and set it on the sink. Suddenly, as Mikey did the same, his bare skin was pressed up against mine, his hands pulling on my wet hair.

In between kisses he offered to grab something for protection. But I denied it; lying and saying that I had him covered. He pulled my closer and my legs wrapped around his waist, and for once, with his sunglasses off, I looked into his eyes.

"I won't if you don't want me to," he whispered quietly.

"I do," I answered back.

"....Reckless driving, casual sex, binge eating, uncertainty about life issues, they are all common symptoms of borderline personality disorder," my psychiatrist told me.

"What sex isn't causal?" I sarcastically mused.

Much to my dismay, Mikey wanted me. And I accepted the fact that I wanted him, too. He undid his belt expertly with one hand, while his other hand crept up and down my chest, his lips still interlocked with mine. He pulled down his pants and slid mine off to reveal the black panties that matched the bra I was wearing; one that Genevieve got for me when she went to a sale (while on leave with her parents) that she raved about for days. When Mikey entered me, he gripped my body so tightly that I was surprised bruises didn't form instantly. He was rough, but soft too, moaning into my mouth with each pulse. The pleasure was incomparable with anything I had experienced with Adrian, it was almost imaginable being with someone who was mature in the way they loved. Maybe I was getting ahead of myself, but the sex was amazing.

He pulled out just in time, resting his forehead against mine, his fingers trailing in and out of me, both of our breathing synching, heavily. By God I hope no one heard us.

"What does this one mean?" he asked, tracing his fingers over my arms, my scars, looking as though the weight he had bared on my could snap me in two pieces.

"It's buddha, on a lotus," I said quietly.

"Is there a story behind that one?" he asked.

"It covers up old scars. I told you they don't trigger me, especially when covered with art," I answered.

Nudged up besides me, he moved his hand to cover me, running it through my hair, and down the bridge of my nose. His touch was almost an odd sensation, coming from someone who had been so harsh in his nature; it was almost life something in him had shifted, his thinking or perspective, or that he finally felt freedom from something. He continued to stay pushed up besides me, his body warmth mixing with mine.

Notes

Trigger warning: drug use and sexual content.