Losing You

The loss of Bryan was still strong; it was a wound that would heal, but one that would heal slowly. They all knew this, but it didn’t make it any easier. Things had been going badly for a while now, but none of them had seen this coming. No one could have foreseen that he’d actually leave them. Without much of an explanation, and without any thought to how this would break the band apart.

And it did break them apart. Little by little, the strain tugged at their hearts, breaking them inside. Outwardly, they remained strong. As much for the fans as for themselves.

But things would never be the same again.

They would never be awoken in the middle of the night to the sound of a bag of crisps being sworn at, and then torn open. They would never see the smiling face of the tallest of them all, beaming down at them during a photo shoot. They’d never see him making monkey faces on stage, or trying to make them laugh and flub up their dance moves.

Four was not stronger than five, but these particular four would find a way to carry on. With or without an important part of their heart.

“How’d it go?” Grace asked, turning herself around on the couch to face him as he came through the door.

“Not great,” he replied stoically; she could hear the sound of the fridge opening, closing, and the sound of a beer being popped open. It was not unusual for him to enjoy a cold beverage after a long day at work, but it was only 3:30 in the afternoon, and he usually waited until at least 6 before getting shit faced.

She didn’t know what to say, so she kept quiet while he tossed his bag onto the recliner and then sat down beside her, huffing out a long breath. He didn’t look at her, which didn’t anger her, but did make her wonder if she should try and console him, or stay away. If there was one thing she knew about him, it was to keep clear when he was in a mood; sometimes, however, it was hard to tell if he was in a mood, or just tired.

Today, she would put money on him being in a mood; so she went back to her book, scribbling notes as she went, her eyes traveling from words to his face, but not seeing any inclination that he wanted to talk to her.

He cleared his throat, finished off his beer. “What are you watching?”

“I’m not actually watching,” she held up her psychology book. “I’ve got a paper due on Monday.”

“Oh, yeah.” He leaned over her to pick up the controller from where it sat behind her head. She set the book in her lap, and watched him closely as he did so. Normally, he’d have kissed her the second he saw her…or at least when he leaned over. He didn’t even make a move, just leaned back against the other side of the couch.

“Kian.” She closed the book, removed her glasses and flipped her auburn hair out of her face.

He was watching the television screen closely, moving from channel to channel without much pause on anything. When he spoke, it was in a quiet voice, a voice that was full of sorrow and defeat. “What?”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“I don’t.” He stopped flipping channels and left it on BBC1, where a house was being remade. “Remember how your Professor told you not to psychoanalyze anyone until you’d gotten a degree?” She nodded, so he continued. “Well, you haven’t gotten your degree, yet.”

Grace sighed heavily, opened her book again and tried to ignore the prickling behind her eyes.

A commercial tempting people to buy toothpaste filled the screen; his eyes traveled to the wall ahead of him, where a picture of he and Grace stood. They were laughing, holding onto each other; he remembered well when that had been taken. Last year on tour, she’d surprised him in Denmark because he’d been getting depressed about not seeing her; the picture had been taken by Mark in a split second without their knowledge.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled to the picture.

“Don’t be.”

He turned fully around in his seat, facing her; she looked tired, withdrawn, but he knew she’d talk to him, and listen, if he wanted her to. That was the last thing he wanted. His throat was dry because of all the talking about ‘it’ he’d done in the last couple weeks. But maybe letting it out would help.

“It’s just hard.” He swallowed, wishing he had another beer to drown himself in.

“I know it is.” In a moment she had tossed her book and glasses aside, and was sitting closer to him, her arm around him. She’d done a lot of comforting him lately; she’d done a lot of ‘just being there’ when he’d needed it most. He was starting to feel really guilty that he hadn’t bothered returning the favor.

Kian leaned his forehead against her temple. “I don’t know how we’re going to do this without him.”

“It seems impossible, I know. But it’s not.” He started to scoff, but she put a finger to his lips and pressed on. “You’ve done a hell of a lot of things that people said were impossible. This isn’t any different. It’s just a bit more difficult than the others because you’ve lost someone, and you wonder what the point is now. But you shouldn’t, because you KNOW what the point is. You can’t just let the fans down. You need to be there for them, now, just like you always have. They need you as much as you need them.”

He swallowed again, willing himself not to cry. He’d done his fair share lately, more than he had in all the years he’d been alive, it seemed. Though it only seemed that way, because it was so recent. “I know all that. It just doesn’t make it any easier.”

“Things have been too easy for you. It’s time you had to struggle again.” He was about to protest, but noticed she was smiling, so he could tell she was joking. “You’re not alone, you know.”

“It feels like I am sometimes.”

“Yeah, I feel alone sometimes, too. But you’ve got Shane, and Nicky, and Mark, and they’re not going to let you down.”

“I feel like Bryan did.”

“I know.”

“But I know it was what he had to do. I understand that. But it just doesn’t matter, sometimes. I still feel like he left us hanging.”

“Everybody feels like that, you know. Nicky called me after you left rehearsal. He said you’re taking this harder than they are, and he doesn’t know why.”

Kian shrugged. “I don’t know why, either. I guess because I felt like this was going to go on forever, and now it feels like it’s all over.”

“It’s not, though. You’ve got an album coming out, just the four of you. And the tour. You can do this.”

He sighed, closing his eyes and resting his head against the back of the couch; Grace retracted her arm and was about to get up to allow him to rest, but he pulled her into his lap.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” he stated evenly, his eyes still closed.

Grace burrowed her head into his chest. “You’d get drunk and forget what your name is.”

He chuckled, and she smiled; glad she’d been able to give him a bit of levity in the mirthless situation. “Thanks.”

“Anytime.”

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