27. Phoenix

Phoenix

Lie To Me

“ H ow 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 leave again. 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 just stop because 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 mouth you 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 him right 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.

I can’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.

“You’re coming with me,” I tell him, and my tone leaves no room for argument.

Yet, argue he does. “You know I can’t do that.”

“Yes, you can, and you are.”

He shakes his head, shoving his hands in his hoodie pocket. “I’m not going to Europe.”

“Why the fuck not?” I raise my voice, feeling that repressed anger rising higher and higher. “We both know what happens if you don’t.”

“It’ll happen if I go,” he says dryly. “Being around you won’t change that.”

“But it has ! It fucking has! You’ve been sober four days, Eli. And I know it’s hard. I realize that. I see it. But you can’t tell me that being with me doesn’t change things. I know it does.”

“And how does it change, Phoenix? Do tell me because as someone actively living in my own fucking body, I can tell you without a shadow of a doubt that you change nothing. ”

I reel back like he slapped me, and it honestly feels like he did. “So, what? Was all of this just fucking pretend? A goddamn joke to you?”

“No,” he says quickly and swallows. “It wasn’t.”

“Then?” His stare hardens, and I can feel the doors slamming shut. “Oh no, you don’t. Don’t you dare shut down. Not right now. Not after everything.”

“Fine,” he growls and stomps over to me. “You want to know what’s going on in here?” He aggressively thumps his temple. “It’s a cesspool. Every second of every day, I hurt. Imagine being shredded alive from the inside out and unable to stop it. Of never getting a break. Of feeling like you’re dying and hating yourself. I hate myself, Phoenix. I do think I would be better off if I were dead. And yet here I am, playing fucking house with you like I’m not counting the goddamn seconds until you leave so I can feel better. ”

“Stop,” I rasp, but he keeps going.

“I don’t want to go with you. I don’t want to be shackled to your side and treated like a rabid animal about to bite the hand that feeds it. I don’t want to feel this way anymore. I don’t want to be me anymore!” he roars in my face, and I recoil. “I’m a pathetic little bitch every day of my life, and I’m sick of it. Sick of being like this,” he grabs at his jacket, nails attempting to tear it off, “I want to get high, alright? Because at least my medicine won’t abandon me. It’ll never judge. It’ll never yell at me or break my heart. It’s a comfort, a warm fucking blanket that I can’t wait to wrap around my body and die in it.”

A sob rips from my throat, so I slap my palm over my mouth so my audible heartbreak isn’t echoing off the damn building.

He heaves a breath, eyes wide like he can’t believe he just said that shit to me. “Phoenix.”

I shake my head and back up.

“Phoenix. Fuck. That… No, just wait.”

I don't wait for him. I vanish.

Jogging to my car like my life depends on it while history repeats itself, I feel my heart shattering all over again.

But this time, this time , it’s so much worse.

It’s fucking fatal this time.

God, I can’t do this anymore.

“ M om,” I croak, sobbing as she opens the front door.

“Oh, honey,” she coos and pulls me into her arms.

I stand on my parents’ front porch and bawl my eyes out, clinging to her because I didn’t know where else to go or what to do. I was wrong. Wrong about everything. All my efforts meant fuck all to Eli. And to think, I seriously thought if I just kept on being nice, supportive, and gave every ounce of my love to him that it’d matter—that it’d matter.

Mom holds me tight, murmuring to me.

“It’s okay; you’re alright. Tell me what happened,” her voice echoes in my ear.

But I can’t speak. All I can do is cry. Cry for all that could’ve been if he had just tried. Cry because I finally fucking fought for him, and he shit on it like it was nothing. Like my love was a nuisance. A fucking inconvenience. Nyxia hears me at the door, and I’m vaguely aware of her arms encircling me, followed by my dad’s voice coming from the living room.

“What happened?” he hollers, but we ignore him.

None of it mattered to him. All that matters are his drugs. And I’m a fool for ever thinking I could be enough.

He’s just too broken, his mind too warped.

Deep in my heart, I know that everything he said was a cry for help, but despite begging for it, he doesn’t even want it. New Year’s Eve is tomorrow. I had grand plans to take him to see fireworks, kiss him at midnight, and tell him again how much I loved him and how proud I was of him.

Not anymore.

“Phoenix?” my dad is at the door now, and Mom pulls away. I meet my dad’s eyes, the same green that I inherited in one of mine. All my life, I’ve felt like my dad didn’t like me, but right now, I’ve never seen him more concerned. “You gotta talk, son.”

“I…can’t,” I say through hiccups. Dad rests his cane against the front door, scoots my mom and sister away, and hauls me into his chest. At that, I really fall apart. Full-on ugly sobbing into my dad’s neck because he hasn’t hugged me like this since I was ten.

“Whatever it is, we’ll figure it out. Alright?” he tells me, rubbing firm strokes down my back. I fist my hands in his shirt, my heart obliterated and revived all at once. “Please, Phoenix. Tell me.”

“Everyone…was…right,” I wheeze. “About…Eli.”

Dad stiffens, but it disappears as fast as it had happened. “That man hurt you?” he growls.

I cry harder. “Dad, let’s get him inside,” Nyx suggests softly.

“I’m holding my boy. Give him a minute,” he tells her, and I whimper. “I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”

I let Dad hold me for a while, and eventually, I calmed down enough to go inside. Well, calm isn’t the right word. I’m wrung dry. My eyes feel like two pissholes in the sand. I’m shaking, sweaty, and overall feeling terrible. Dad makes me sit on the couch, leaning heavily on his cane because I’m sure his back hurts standing straight for so long. He pats my shoulder and goes to his recliner. Mom throws a blanket over me, and I hear the kettle whistling in the kitchen.

“I’ll get you some tea, hun,” she chirps.

Nyx clings to my side, holding my hand while I find a regular breathing rhythm. “Are you seeing Eli again?” dad asks.

“I tried,” my voice cracks as I say it, chest resplitting.

Dad hums in acknowledgment, thumping his thumb over the armrest. “Never liked him,” he grunts.

“No one really did,” Nyx admits. “But we tried to, for you.”

“Well, I liked him. I love him,” I say, tears forming all over again. “I love him so much, and it’s killing me.”

Dad sniffs like he usually does, judging my choice of romantic partner. But then he says something that shocks all of us. “You always pick boys, Phoenix. Not men. And that’s the problem. You can’t fix someone, nor can you save them, son.”

My jaw hangs open to my chest. Nyx’s too. Mom hovers with my cup of tea, eyes watering as she looks at her husband. “Holy shit, Dad,” Nyx blurts.

“What?”

“I always thought you…well, you know,” she says while I add, “Hate that I’m gay.”

He scoffs. “No. That’s never been an issue.” Toying with the handle of his cane, he looks me dead in the eye and says, “I know I’m hard on you kids, have expectations, and maybe some residual prejudice due to my upbringing, but it never bothered me that you like men. It bothered me that you chose the wrong men. Men that hurt you. Like that Luke kid in high school. He was a prick.”

I could catch bats in my mouth with how far it’s hanging off its hinges. “You’re joking.”

“Why would I joke about this?”

“I’ve heard you call people fags.”

He frowns like he doesn’t remember. “As I said, bad habits are hard to kick sometimes, Phoenix. Does that make it okay? Of course not. And if I ever offended you, I apologize. You’re my son. My son. I wish you made better choices in romantic partners.”

I suck my mouth closed and nod, not wanting to argue over this. Mom hands me the cup of tea and goes over to press a kiss on my dad’s cheek. “Drink that, and then tell us what happened,” she says.

I nod and drink my tea.