Through All the Dust

“Hey,” Matt chirped happily as I tossed my keys into the bowl with a loud homecoming clink.
“Hey yourself,” I smiled, making my way steadily to the couch where my friend had set up camp.
It had been just over a week since the whole Sanders wedding debacle and Matt was only just starting to come out of his web of depression. Victoria had called mercilessly for the first four days; her messages were different each time but were vetted thoroughly by myself or by Brian. There was something about her siren song that Matt couldn’t bring himself to endure yet.
There was talk of an annulment but it was nothing more than a murmur to my ears.
“Where’s Bri?” Matt asked curiously as I sunk into the couch cushions next to him.
Brian and I had snuck out early in the morning to head to the studio where Avenged had been busy recording. Matt had taken a little break from work, which everyone was more than understanding about given the circumstances. But there was no rest for the wicked, which meant it was back to the grind for the rest of us.
And for me, that meant Fiction.
“He’s still back at the studio,” I replied simply. “He had some stuff to finish up... so I convinced Johnny to give me a lift.”
“False promises?” Matt smirked.
I shook my head, snatching Matt’s iced coffee off my table and taking a large sip through his straw. A surefire sign that he’d at least left the house briefly.
“Told him I’d lay off the short jokes for a week,” I told Matt between sips.
He tried to grab his drink back from me but I wasn’t having it.
“I’m broken, remember?” I grinned at him, keeping the plastic cup just out of his tattooed reach.
He nodded, “Yeah, but I’m heartbroken, remember? I outrank you.”
With a scowl and a scoff, I reluctantly handed Matt back his drink. He took it with a triumphant ‘thank you’ without much heart.
“So?” he mused as he sunk into the back of my couch. “How’d it go?”
I shrugged my tired shoulders, “Fine enough, I guess. You’ll have something to work with, I think.”
He chuckled lightly, “Blair...”
“Hm?”
“You know what I meant.”
I could play dumb like the best of ‘em.
“I’m sure I don’t,” I teased.
He sighed a little, tilting his head ever so slightly, “Are you okay?”
“Oh,” I exaggerated my understanding. “I’m...I’m okay.”
“Good,” Matt smiled forcefully. “I don’t know how you do it, B.”
“Do what?” I asked out of genuine confusion. “Play the piano? Or be okay playing the piano? I’m confused.”
He laughed, shaking his head at my wrinkled forehead, “No...You just shelter pain like no one I’ve ever met. It’s...admirable.”
I dismissed the sentiment quickly, feeling immediately a cad. There was no sheltering happening here. It was all weathering and I was weathered nearly to death. It wasn’t admirable and it wasn’t healthy.
“Don’t,” I laughed awkwardly, snatching Matt’s drink once more the very second he placed it back down.
He let me have it.
“Sorry,” he smiled. “I know you get weird about compliments.”
“It’s not really a compliment, Matt,” I noted lazily. “It’s an observation. And it’s unfounded.”
“It’s not,” he insisted. “I think it was the thing that Jim respected most about you.”
I eyed Matt up from behind the straw, taking my time to swallow down the ice cold liquid.
“What’s that now?” I asked with just a hint of bitterness.
Matt nodded, endlessly unafraid of my wit or my challenges. He was a worthy adversary on the best of days; like Brian, he refused to by into my brow beatings. Matt told me what was on his mind and only occasionally apologized for it. We were close enough that the apology was typically unnecessary but it was always offered to me anyway. Matt was good that way.
“Yeah,” Matt finally smiled. “He brought it up a few times.”
“Brought it up?” I asked flatly.
“For sure. I think the first time was when we flew out to help you guys out, you know.. when you gave—“
“I remember the circumstances,” I rushed, desperate to avoid hearing anything about those blurred details that had nearly derailed my life.
Matt’s jaw clenched subtly as he moved past my trauma with the utmost care, “Anyway, you hadn’t been out of the hospital for more than a week and you were back on stage.”
“Yeah,” I offered but it came out more like a question.
He laughed. “I’ll never forget. Jimmy turned to me, watching you prep down the hall—totally lost in your own little Blair world—and he said ‘that girl is the most perfect creature in this god forsaken world’.”
I could feel my heart fluttering, “He didn’t say that.”
Matt nodded grimly, but fondly, “He definitely did. He was so astounded by you all the time. He said—shit, what did he say—he couldn’t believe that you could roll with the punches the way you did. You lost your best friend and you still got up and got shit done. He was in awe of you. And I think.. you know, especially because of what’s happened.. he knew that Brian would be safe with you. Ya know? That’s all Jim would have wanted.”
I was trying not to be an emotional wreck.
Isn’t it wild the way that people hold these deep insights into your character without ever being suspicious of it? People guard this perception of you, occasionally laying off the dogs and allowing a sneak peek through their eyes. And, for a second, I got a little snippet at my life through Jimmy’s crystal blues.
Jimmy had been such a force that it had never really dawned on me that he might hold me in any sort of regard. I knew he cared for me: loved me. But I’d never thought to pry for his opinion on my very matter. Just another regret, I guess.
Matt took my welled up silence as a response.
“Thank you for recording Fiction,” he said with his hand atop mine. “I can’t imagine that it was easy...but I’m so fucking glad that it was you.”
He was right. It wasn’t easy.
We’d kicked out as many people as practically possible as I readied myself at the piano. Brian laid back behind the glass, offering sympathetic eyes and encouraging smiles. It was just enough to keep me breathing while my fingers shook without mercy.
“Whenever you’re ready,” they’re producer spoke from within the booth.
My eyes found Brian once more, who gave me a subtle but profound head nod of encouragement.
My fingers found the keys and my mind rediscovered Jimmy. I imagined his smiling face and the way he’d crinkle up his nose when he found something particularly funny. I thought of the way his hair would fall to the sides of his face and how rapidly the colour pulled through his arms had faded. For a second, I pretended that my hands were not my own. I pretended to be someone else; to be Jimmy. I pretended that everything was still as it was and the world hadn’t burned to rubble. I pretended that Brian’s heart hadn’t been broken and that he was still whole and content.
I pretended to still feel human.
With great restraint over my flooding emotions, I continued on. I refused to find Brian—part of me knew he’d abandoned the booth. This was the one song he still couldn’t bring himself through. But the only way out was through—and in time, he’d have to make that journey. It just hadn’t been the right time.
I found myself singing softly to myself as I played, counting on the mic’s not to pick up my gentle ramblings.
Jimmy piercing blue eyes insisted themselves onto my mind. I couldn’t shake them. I couldn’t wish them away.
There was something about playing something so unadulteratedly Jimmy that was unnerving. Soul crushing even. Is borne my soul to the globe and still felt less vulnerable than playing a single note specifically chosen by Mr. Sullivan’s mind in perfect privacy. It was a type of sharing that we’d never had the chance to partake in while he lived—and I’d greedily stolen once he’d died. Grasping at straws to keep from losing your mind, you know?
As I finally, and thankfully, came to the end, I could feel him. I could feel his warmth, feel his validation. He would have commended my abilities and gone on and on about how much I’d improved—and then he’d remind me that he was the sole reason I’d seen any sort of forward momentum. But he was right. About the piano, about my music, about my fucking life. The very second that Jimmy walked into my life, my world was set ablaze. The flames were still burning bright, now solely embedded between Brian and I—the only piece still remaining from the perfection that had been my life pre-December. I’d finally found peace within myself, within my humanity...
I fell apart.
This wasn’t surprising. It had become increasingly difficult for me to rally and hold it in place. What was surprising, though, was that Brian was flying through the door within a millisecond. He hadn’t abandoned me at all. No. He’d endured his own personal hell in order to adequately watch over my anguish—in anticipation that I might desperately need him. And I did.
I sobbed into his chest, so hysterical that there was no verbalizing this meltdown.
Not that I ever needed to.
“Baby,” Brian shushed, running his hands through my hair. “It’s okay, sh. It’s okay.”
It wasn’t okay.
Life was like an ongoing bad dream. Sometimes I’d really wake up and everything would start to mellow itself out. But other times I was pushed and pulled and dragged into the abyss that was grief and I was left in naught but distraught. It’s a good thing Brian was strong. I had a lot of baggage added to my weight that he’d been forced to hold up.
“I know, I know,” he hummed soothingly, rocking my body ever so subtly.
We’d anticipated the breakdown, which is why we’d given everyone the boot. There was only so much vulnerability I was willing to endure. I had a hard time with my feelings and I had an ever harder time allowing others to see me feeling anything at all.
Brian was my only exception those days. He got to see it all—poor guy.
“I—I—“ I tried desperately, hiccuping through the off kilter breathing.
Brian sighed with empathy, “I know.”
“I miss him,” I sobbed, digging my fingers into Brian’s back to ensure he was really with me.
“Me too,” Brian choked, tightening his grip too. “Me too.”
We stayed that way for a minute before I finally worked up the energy to start pulling my frayed edges back together again. I pulled away from Brian, just enough to really look at him. I wasn’t sure I’d ever been more grateful for another human being.
Sure, Tyler had been most of my life. He’d taught me compassion and responsibility. Lauren was the light; she was the good and the ground I needed.
Jimmy was important. He was like a piece of my soul’s puzzle that I hadn’t realized was missing. He understood me in a way that no one else ever had. I figured in a way that no one else ever would.
But Brian.
Brian was everything.
Brian was my safety; my home. He was the very best part of my life—and the very best part of me. He was where my urge to live rose and fell. So long as he was by my side, no way was I headed down.
And if I tripped, I knew I’d never have to worry about hitting bottom.
“I’m sorry,” I managed, suddenly feeling just a tad foolish and a little melodramatic.
He shook his head, wiping my tears with his thumbs, “Don’t you ever apologize to me for having emotions, Blair.”
“You’re strange,” I forced an awkward smile.
He ran his left thumb down my cheek affectionately, “Says you.”
“Tell me,” I said in a huff, wiping at my eyes with embarrassment, “was it okay?”
Brian studied me for a second before smiling, “Did I ever tell you about recording City of Evil? How Jimmy recorded—“
“Everything in one take,” I finished knowingly. “You think The Rev has never mentioned that himself?”
Brian laughed, “Right.”
“What about it?” I asked coolly.
“You guys are similar to the end,” he smirked with a shrug.
“Really?” I asked excitedly.
He nodded, “It was perfect, Blair. Really. We were worried you would—it doesn’t matter. It’s perfect as is.”
I was relieved not to have to play it again. Some days were better than others and some moods were stronger than others. I wasn’t feeling particularly lively those days, between Matt’s marriage blowing up and my crippled body refusing to heal rapidly, I was emotionally spent. This meant that I could flip on a dime...as demonstrated by my brief flip out.
But I told myself it was a good thing. It was progress.
I was feeling again...and that could only be good.
Matt snatched his drink back, shaking me out of my daze. He was grinning at me like an idiot.
“I’m going to go nap,” I told my friend, suddenly feeling the weight of the world. “I’m sure Brian will bring home the demo for you.”
Matt smiled, “I’ll text him. I want to hear it! I bet it’s great.”
I nodded absently, pulling myself from the couch and back onto my crutches. As I neared the stairs, Matt hollered after me.
“Do you need help?”
And with a proud and genuine smile, I shook my head and called back, “I got it.”

Notes

Sorry for the wait, guys! I tried to upload this from my phone yesterday but it wasn't having it. But I've stumbled upon a computer and, so, here we go!

xx