Summary: I hear him crying at night. These gut-wrenchng sobs that even hurt me.
Disclaimer: Don't know, don't own. The title is an Alkaline Trio song whose lyrics sort of fit the story.
A/N: Very short. 481 words. I haven't written anything like this before, but the idea just popped into my head, so I put it down.
Jon fakes it.
I know he fakes it, because I hear him crying at night. These gut-wrenching sobs that even hurt me. I don’t know why he took it so hard. These things happen, I guess, but it was over a year ago. I was there when it happened, too. It was raining, because it’s always raining when this kind of thing happens. It was 1:30 in the morning, not too late, and it was just the two of us driving around. Late October, everything dark and rain-soaked. We were playing some CD, something obnoxiously loud, when he leaned over to kiss me.
That’s when we hit them.
It was a young mom, 24, and her twin boys. They were five. I don’t know how fast Jon was going, but they’re gone. One of the boys almost made it, but they ended up taking him off of life support. Alicia died two days after the accident, and the other boy died instantly. I still can’t figure out how he managed to hit all three of them so badly, but there isn’t much reason to think about it now. It’s over, he can’t bring them back. He feels like he needs to, though, you know? Like he did something horribly wrong on purpose. The authorities couldn’t find any relatives, so there wasn’t anyone he had to answer to. Just himself.
Jon hasn’t touched me since then. He clung to me until the second boy died, and then he just shut down. The guys and I tried to send him to therapy, but he wouldn’t talk, like some sad teenager. The therapist prescribed some kind of anti-depressant. He wouldn’t take them. When I told his therapist, quietly, that he’d stopped touching me, she said it was probably because he feels like something else just as bad might happen. We still play shows and he’s still the same as he always was, to anybody who didn’t know him before. He started smoking a pack a day, and it seems like there’s always a drink in his hand.
He never eats. Jon just drinks and smokes and plays his guitar. Oh, he’ll eat a few bites when we force it on him. Around everyone, even us, he’s just as happy and excitable as he always was. It’s when he thinks no one’s listening that he cries, and it’s heartbreaking. Before, if something was wrong, I could’ve helped. I could have held him and made him feel better. Not now. If I go knock on his door, he’ll sit up and wipe his eyes and pretend everything’s okay, even though he knows I’ve heard him. Once, I tried to hug him and he almost hyperventilated.
It feels like we’ve tried everything. He acts so normal that sometimes even we aren’t sure anything’s wrong. I listen every night, waiting for his tears.
He never fails me.
Light up, light up, as if you have a choice
Even if you cannot hear my voice
I’ll be right beside you, dear