Page 79 of Beneath Cherry Blossom Memories

Phoenix

Lie To Me

“How is he?” Jorge whispers in my ear as he hugs me firmly.

I glance over my shoulder to see Eli standing awkwardly while Devon shows him his new dye job. We argued this morning because he tried to leaveagain.I know he wants to get high, but I’m not having it. So I threw him on my bed and fucked him. We were in my car and off to the studio an hour later. It’s all I know how to do with him. Sex is a motivator, even though I know that it’s temporary. He’ll want to leave again and again because addiction doesn’t juststopbecause I want it to.

“I don’t know,” I admit. “Sometimes it’s like he’s better, other times…”

“Change has to come from him.”

I nod, hating that it’s this way. I’d happily carry the burden if it’d work. “Anyway, I’m going to try and convince him to come with us.”

“Dude,” Jorge says, eyes wide. “We leave in three days.”

Rubbing the back of my neck, I grimace. “I know. But I can’t leave him here. He can’t be alone.”

Jorge’s face twists into a sappy puddle. “This sucks, man.”

“It does.”

He hugs me again, and I try to swallow the ball in my throat. I can’t fucking get all emotional right now. We need to make sure our set list is good and practice some of our newer stuff. Some upcoming shows have time slots where we can sneak in some unrecorded stuff, so we’re hoping to monopolize that. I honestly don’t know how I will do this tour if Eli doesn’t come with me.

“Alright,” Jorge says firmly. “Let’s play, yeah?”

I nod once and suck in a breath.

We get set up, Michael and Devon tune their strings, and Kelly plays with her keyboard settings for the first song. Eli is watching, but he’s got this blank look in his eyes. I mouthyou okay?He blinks and offers me one of his placating smiles. Fuck. This is not good. Not good at all. I swear it’s like one minute we’re starting up the first song, and the next Jorge is getting water, and it’s time to play Isolated.

Knowing the truth behind those lyrics, playing them for a crowd, and Eli being in said crowd is one thing. But it’s another entirely having himright here. Almost like he can feel my nerves, he perks up from his seat on the little worn sofa in the corner. His eyes lock on mine as I swallow hard. I don’t want to play this fucking song. It feels like a bad omen—a foreboding call of what’s to come. I swallow again, and everyone looks at me expectantly.

I click my drum sticks together and kick off the beat, all the while my heart races like a million galloping horses.

Everything is too loud, the lights too bright.

Even though the notes are flowing, the melody is almost haunting; I can only focus on when Jorge starts singing. And fuck do my lyrics reopen the scars lining my heart.

“And I’ve never been more isolated than laying beneath these cherry blossom memories.”

Yeah, I can’t do this.

I stop playing just after the last line of the chorus and get up. My hands slap my legs to find my vape, and I’m rushing out of the studio with my heart in my throat and my lungs in a vise. Jorge’s voice in the microphone yells at me to come back, but I ignore it, the door slamming shut. Only when I’m outside, a vapor cloud exiting my lips and blinking at the sky, do I allow myself to crumble.

My shoulders shake as my heart lurches.

Nothing bad has even happened yet, but I know it’s coming.

I can feel it in my fucking bones. And I’m so scared of what will happen to Eli and us. These past few months have been a roller coaster of intense highs and unreal lows. The worst part? I wouldn’t change it. I wouldn’t go back and prevent it because I got to have him again. Living without him isn’t living at all. It’s walking death. It’s a zombified existence where food loses flavor, and sludge fills your veins. I can’t go back to that.

Ican’t.

“Phoenix?”

I’m surprised it’s Eli out here and not Jorge. Wonder how my best friend let that shit happen. I sniffle and wipe my face quickly. “I’m good.”

“You’re a shitty liar.”

Spinning to face him, I swear my heart stutters and twists. He’ll always be beautiful to me, no matter how thin he gets or how sunken his eyes are. I’ll always find something to brighten his dull exterior. I’ll always romanticize him, even if he’s the worst thing for me. And that’s just fucking it. I love him, and he won’t let me.

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