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As I circled him, my finger snapping at the eager film, I realized that I had never seen him perform like this. I remembered seeing him behind two sets of keyboards, jumping up and down, yelling crowd pleasers, like 'c'mon' or 'let's go guys', nothing passionate, just, well, fun. I began circling the piano, soaking in his image, music, and presence. His voice became deeper, curling the lower notes, and using his breathing as an instrument. He began to look at the camera. The blue that had brought him to me seared through the camera's lense, my eyes watered. My finger kept on moving. I knew I would treasure these prints until the edges were torn and crumbling beneath my salty hands. I tired to ignore the ocean that I knew I had to cross in order to be with him. I stopped my burning hands, and put the camera down on the piano, shaking.

"This is not going to work." Taylor's face grew twisted and painful.

"No, we can make it, I'll call you, we can visit, just after the touring stops, then we'll get some time off, you can come to Tulsa, and" He voice was shaky, I cut him off.

"No, this is not going to work. We're too young, and you life, your.. Hanson is moving, I'm going on my own. I want to have my own career, this is not going to work with us at two opposite ends of the world. There's nothing left to try, and there's nothing to prove here. I don't want to deal with this, you know what's going to happen." I stood in silence. He sat, staring at the black on white, hands clasped in between his thighs on the thick piano bench.

"God, I don't want to lose you. I don't know how to fix this." I wanted to sit next to him, hold his hand, kiss him, embrace him. But I couldn't, I didn't want to make the loss sting anymore that it had to.

"You knew, you did, that this would never work. Never." I moved to the bedroom, changed into a pair of black jeans, with a turtleneck the color of night. I tugged on my black mod boots, grabbed my coat off the coffee table, and tied my hair up, a couple cornsilk wisps falling out as I moved. I put my wallet in my black bag and walked past Taylor, still sitting on the bench. As I reached for the doorknob, he finally jumped off the seat and grabbed my arm.

"This is not happening, you're not leaving me. I've NEVER felt like this about anyone! Why are you doing this to me? Why can't you come back to Tulsa and stay? Why are you doing this? Why can't you try to come? Why can't we try to make this work? Is this some kind of joke?" He was yelling, tears falling on bright red cheeks, and voice breaking. "I thought you loved me." His voice was a whisper. That threw me off, he had never said it to me, or I to him.

"I do. That's why I'm leaving." I took his cheek in my hand. "You will always be here, do you understand? It's better to end it this way." I pointed to my chest. He nodded, tears spilling onto my hand, he grabbed my wrist and held my hand closer to cheek, cradling it. I stepped toward him, and put my lips to his. His kiss was mourning, deep and sorrowful, I closed my eyes and tried desperately to hold onto that moment. As I moved back, painfully, I held him in a tight embrace. I felt as if my ribs were about to shatter, he loosened his grip and began to moved the loose strands of my hair in between his fingers.

"Don't leave me."

"I have to."

"Why?"

"Because I love you." I turned around and went through the door.

As I made my way down the hall, I was blinded by my tears. I felt my stomach turn over. As soon as I reached the lobby I ran to the ladies room and vomited. I rinsed my mouth with my hands. I looked at myself in the mirror, I couldn't stand it, I was making the biggest mistake of my life, I knew it. My eyes looked puffy and red, to add to the dark marks below them. I ran out of the bathroom and grabbed a cab, sighting the book signing store as my destination. The drive would be about a half hour, so I opened my large black bag and retrieved my discman. I had an old Police cd in, as I put on the large earphones, 'Message in a Bottle' came on random. I held back my tears and bit my lower lip, I dug my nails into the soft flesh of my palms, leaving small half moons in their place. "A hundred Billion castaways, looking for a home/ I hope that someone gets my message in a bottle" Sting's random, punkish guitar work of his earlier days flitted inside my ears, and made me repress my urge to empty my stomach again. I produced a light lip gloss and rubbed some on my dry lips, as my finger touched my lips, I thought of Taylor's last kiss. 'Every Little Thing She Does is Magic' started, its' piano solo quick, with inertia, as the chorus started, I felt like putting my fist through the cab window. "It's always me that ends up getting wet.."

As the cab slowed, I pulled out cash and a tip, to which the cabbie waved away, saying "Lady, you need some rest, keep it." I made him take the tip, my bottom lip shuddering, and thanked him. The large, soot coloured building was packed with mostly twenty-something fans, most wearing Sandman shirts or DC Comics. I cursed myself for forgetting one of my Tori Amos shirts, her and Neil were good friends, I would've been able to blend in a bit better. Looking around the room, I realized that most people were dressed in Gothic attire, and my black fit in perfectly. My eyes watered, I didn't know how long I could ignore the impossible pain in my chest. I remembered when a close gay friend, Steve, broke up with his boyfriend of six months, he was so in love with him. His boyfriend had spent three weeks in Seattle, when he got back, he'd changed, none of us could tell immeadiately, but it was underneath, he didn't love Steve anymore. The split was so sudden that Steve was at a loss, he barely ate for a week, I stayed with him for a couple days, in a bit more astonished curiosity than pity. He would tell me how much his chest hurt, he said 'Lane, you know that stupid clique, 'My heart is breaking!'?' I nodded. 'It doesn't break, it collapses first, then it falls down to your stomach. It shrivels and is stepped on, you've got a gash down the front. You're bleeding constantly.' I didn't believe him then, I felt horrible for him, but I didn't think the pain could be so physical. Just as I was about to try to find the bathroom, Miles grabbed my arm.

"Hey, where have you been? I waited around for you, then I thought I missed you 'cos I had to interview Neil. You had me worried there girl." He did look worried, his face dropped when he saw my eyes. I looked away, self consciously.

"So, um, has he started yet?" My voice was quiet, almost a whisper.

"Are you upset about what I said before?"

"No Miles, I just, I don't know what's wrong with me sometimes, and I don't think I should be here, in fact I think I should leave. Leave, yes, I should do that. You do not want to be with me right now, I need to go." I murmured that I'd call him, then turned to go.

"What the hell is going on?!" He grabbed my arm roughly. I opened my mouth, surprised out of my skin, he was never this physical. He led me through the crowd, out to a back alley. The afternoon light was grey, the day was overcast and clouds surrounded the sun, leaving it to be a whitish circle in the nondescript sky.

"Fuck you Miles, I don't want to talk. Just leave me alone." I desperately wanted my voice to rise, and sound more angry, but all I heard was pain in my whiny tone.

"Does this have to do with Taylor?" His tone was motherly, tight, but softer.

"Yes, it does, and that's it, I'm not talking anymore. Please, please Miles, just leave me alone now." Hot, betraying tears fell from my red eyes, I used my sleeve to wipe them up from under my glasses. I leaned against the rough brick wall and slid down, sitting with my knees to my chin. I wrapped my arms around my legs, and pushed my forehead into my knees. I felt a slight coolness on my head, then another, a drizzle had started. Despite my want for my tears to stay inside me, they flowed, wetting my jeans. I shook with my sobs. "I left him. I left him, and I wanted him. I wanted him so badly. Jesus Christ Miles, I know the boy for two days, and I want to be with him!" My voice rose to a crescendo, it grew jagged and raged. "I want to see him every morning, I want to live with him, I want to. . . stay. But I can't. He's in Hanson, on tour, in the public's eye, all over the world, with me on the other side dammit! Why did I meet him now? Why?" I started to scream with anger, my pain in my heart grew as my voice did. "This isn't fair, just when I'm fine, he comes along, why? Why can't I treat him like a one night stand?! Why does it hurt so fucking much?" Miles was at my side, holding me, restraining my efforts to get away from him. My body went limp, and I let him hold me, then accepted him, and grabbed at him frantically, using all of my strength. I soaked the shoulder of his black shirt with my salty tears, wailing my loss. He smoothed back my stray hair and kissed the top of my head with pity. As I calmed, I started to tell Miles about the past twenty four hours, he kept quiet, holding me when I needed it. It was a short tale, since some parts would never be spoken of again. When I finished, Miles' eyes had tears in them, ruining the startling contrast of the mint green on white.

"You need to start calming down, and start finding out why you agreed to go with him, when you did." His voice was even toned. I looked up at him, puzzled. I looked up at the rain, took off my foggy glasses and let the cool drops come on my steaming cheeks. I turned to Miles.

"I loved him from the second I saw him. That feeling of loss from Mac, just dissolved in that second, for a moment. I just couldn't believe the way I felt, I knew I had to have him."

"Then you'll meet again, when you've stopped treating yourself like a masochist, and once he is out of his group for a while. I think this is just an appetizer for your main course Lane. If you are meant to be, then you'll meet again. This is just a test, you gotta look at it from that perspective."

"You promise?"

"If you guys are meant to be, then you'll be together. I don't know if that will happen, honest, I don't, but you're doing the right thing. It's not fair to either of you."

"I am doing the right thing?"

"Yes, you are. You're going to go on your tour, and help a lot of people." I raised my hand.

"No, they help themselves, I'm just a little cheerleader on the sidelines, I'm just a friend."

"You still do a lot, I've seen their eyes. You gotta throw yourself into this now. And you've got to do it or you're going to mope over this forever."

"But I want to be with him."

"It's over now." With that sentence my body went numb. I stared at the brick in front of me, unblinking.

"No, this is NEVER going to be over, you hear me? Never Miles. I am going to wait for him, you'll see."

"You have to let other people touch you, not now, but after you've done most of the healing. I mean, obviously you're not going to let go and love, let the gash heal, then we'll see, okay?"

"I'd feel like I was cheating on him if I ever..."

"You left him in your hotel room, this is done." I inhaled a deep breath of the moist London air, held the coolness in, thenlet it go in a quick rush.

"I got snot on your shirt." I smiled.

"Well thanks loads, ew." He smiled back at me, and stood up. "God dammit Lane, my ass is numb from sitting so long, hope you're happy." I felt like crying again, but I held it in.

"Thank you." I dropped my eyes and grew serious.

"If you actually thought I was going to leave you like that, you're on some seriously strong crack there girl." I giggled, sniffling. "C'mon, let's go."

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