All Of My Regrets Are Nothing New [PG] (1/3)
[title] All Of My Regrets Are Nothing New
[author] Lire Casander
[beta] princessleia04. Any remaining mistakes are my own fault.
[pairing]David Cook/David Archuleta, David Archuleta/OFC
[rating] PG
[word count] 13,054
[summary] this is the way that I'm learning to breathe, I'm learning to crawl, I'm finding that you and you alone can break my fall
[disclaimer] I don't own nor have ever met David Cook nor David Archuleta. Everything about them is completely fiction, and any similarity with reality is a mere coincidence. I do not own The Impossible, Blow Away, You First Believed, Learning To Breathe, Turn Around, Switchfoot, Joe Nichols, A Fine Frenzy or Hoku either. I do own Samantha, the original female character in this.
[warnings] Song!fic. First person, told by David Cook. Angst. Fluff.
[author's notes] Title and summary taken from Learning To Breathe by Switchfoot. This is a sequel to Standing On The Edge Of Me, so you might want to read that one before getting into this one.
[author's notes 2] Written for charliebb's birthday which is tomorrow, but since I will not be able to post this on the actual date, she gets an early fic. Inspired by prompt!lyrics left by charliebb, penrith1, gracelessheart and rajkumari905 - The Impossible by Joe Nichols, Blow Away by A Fine Frenzy and You First Believed by Hoku. I hope you have an amazing day filled with all the happiness you deserve!
Unsinkable ships, sink
Unbreakable walls, break
Sometimes the things you think would never happen
Happen just like that
Unbendable steel, bends
If the fury of the wind is unstoppable
I've learned to never underestimate
The impossible
There were few things that scared me to the point of second guessing myself, but what I was about to do was probably on top of that short list. I rummaged inside the plastic bag I was holding, pushing the beer bottles and the orange juice bricks and the oatmeal packages around with trembling fingers. Such an odd combination of items, but they were perfect for my purposes. I wasn't so sure I could make it in one piece through what I had settled myself for, but I had promised Lupe Archuleta that I would, at least, try. And I wasn't a man to break promises made to ladies who had looked after me and had my back so many times before. So I sighed loudly into the bag, not really seeing any point in hanging around in my car waiting for a miracle to happen upon me - waiting for that business call that would serve as excuse for me to leave and come back when I was less busy, meaning that I maybe wouldn't set foot ever again further than my own front porch.
Instead, I opened the door of my car with more force than necessary and stepped outside in the cold, feeling the bite of November hitting my skin as I locked the vehicle with one hand and used the other to balance myself and the plastic bag; the guitar I had taken out of the trunk was dangerously hanging off my left shoulder, so I took a couple of seconds to readjust it across my back for my comfort and its safety. I walked over the tall building erected in front of me, my booted steps reverberating against the hard concrete of that lonesome parking lot, the bag dangling off my numb fingers. I had been pushing this moment off for far too long, and the more I avoided it, the bigger it grew as a regret in the back of my mind, weighing on my heart like a huge mistake. I needed to do something; and that something was exactly what I was doing just then - walk across a lonely parking lot in search of a chimera.
I reached the main entrance to the building in no time; the porter frowned slightly at me before actually recognizing me and therefore doing the math - he pointed me towards the elevators, not before warning me that I might not be welcome. I shrugged it off, thanked him and grasped the handles of the bag tighter as I called one of the elevators.
I still wasn't ready to face whatever was waiting for me upstairs, but once the lift doors closed behind me I had no way out. Besides, everyone had always thought I was a brave man - if only they'd know the truth about me, the fear paralysing me whenever I stopped to think of the consequences of all my actions, the world would know what a coward I really was. I had chickened out of so many fights in my life, even out of the most important of them all. I had just turned around and run away; there wasn't a single day I didn't regret that decision.
The corridor was long, poorly lit, with several impersonal doors at both sides. I searched for the plate I was looking for and sighed when I found it. Shifting my weight from one feet to the other, I shook my head to give myself strength. You can do this, I told myself inwardly. You won American Idol, you can surely face this. it was easier said than done, I had proved time and again in my life, but as contradictory as it might sound I had never backed out of a challenge.
This was all my fault, and it was up to me to fix the mess before the shit hit the fan. I knocked on the door with my eyes closed.
For long moments nothing happened. There was no sound whatsoever, no movement behind the closed door. I knocked again, but I got the same reaction. It felt like waiting on forever to happen, but forever was being slippery.
I resumed my knocking after a few minutes; I had to reassure myself that I had to do it in order to sleep at night. I heard ruffling inside the apartment. I waited, and waited, and waited, until the steps stopped close to the door. I stood upright, the bag still in my hand, so when he opened the door he wouldn't see how I wreck I was.
There was a deaf noise and a crack in the junctures allowed a ray of light sweep into the apartment from the corridor. I leaned unconsciously against the wall beside the door, eyes never leaving the knob now turning completely around. The door opened.
I could see him the moment the void was wide enough for his figure to occupy it all. I let my eyes roam over his face, taking in the paleness, the dark bags under his eyes, the sadness in his gaze, the stubble that looked so out of place on his face. What struck out to me the most, however, was the general state of his allure - the wrinkles in his shirt that had been worn for far too many days in a row, the stains in his jeans that had held so many fuck-ups with undisclosed sources of stains, the unruffled hair that hadn't been combed or tamed down in forever. I gulped, ever so slightly - I hoped he hadn't noticed my nervousness, trusting too much in my acting skills, and they seemed to work for he didn't say anything.
I stared down at one broken David Archuleta for long moments before even thinking of speaking; in the end I sighed and whispered mostly to myself, "It's worst than I suspected." He looked like a small boy lost in a sea of doubts wider than the horizon we would never be able to reach; I chided myself inwardly for having been so selfish these past five years - if I hadn't passed on the chance of knowing Samantha better, Archie would have never gone through so much pain. Granted, it would have been me the one dumped unceremoniously, but I was more experienced than him - and I hadn't left my whole life behind to pursue a dream that was meant to become a nightmare.
We remained still, staring at each other, for the longest of times, until I decided I didn't stand the silence any longer. "Archie, are you going to let me in, or should I invite myself?"
He stepped aside quietly; I didn't know how to behave when he wasn't giving me any guidelines, so I just ambled inside. The apartment was exactly the way I remembered it being - small and cozy, albeit downright messy and untidy. In two steps I had practically entered the living room. I rested my right hand on the frame of that door, mustering up the courage to turn around and look at his thinning form.
"Sorry for the mess," he apologized. "I wasn't expecting any visits today."
"You haven't been expecting visits since last month or so I've been told," I managed to choke out. I couldn't uncover my source - Brooke would have killed me for telling, and Archie would have murdered her. along with me, Brooke White was the only other person to still have contact with Archie, and not because the boy had allowed it. Brooke operated from the distance, getting his information from different people who lived or worked around Archie, for our kid had pushed everyone away when Samantha came into the picture. I fought tooth and nail not to be sent away with false smiles and fake promises - after all, everything that just happened was totally my fault. "I should have come sooner. Archie, this is a pigsty," I continued, throwing a look around. "When did you fire the cleaning lady?"
"She left on her own accord a week ago," he muttered. "Said something about not being cut out to clean after someone who was clearly unable to take care of himself."
"If she said that, I can see what her point was," I had to retort, pointing at the state of the room we were about to step into. "I should tell you to clean this up, but I have more important tasks at hand."
"Like what?" He was snapping at me, harshly, hotly. I shivered.
"Like getting you a bath right now, and some alcohol."
"I don't drink alcohol," he said, pursing his lips. "You already know that."
"The alcohol is for me," I replied, lifting the bag by its handles. "And that bath is for you. You surely need it." I shivered and wrinkled my nose - Archie was a complete disaster, with his clothes ready to fall off his body at any given time. He was just a child, and I could see it then. I had thought he could be a mature man, but I had sent him to a sure death. "Come on, Arch, let's get you decent." I began walking towards the bathroom but I couldn't hear his footsteps following me, so I stopped and turned around, only to see him shaking his head no. I frowned.
"No," he whispered.
"Why?" I tried to keep my voice cool, intent on not letting any emotion show for fear I could crumble in front of him, and Archie needed my strength, not my weakness.
"All her things are still in the bathroom," he confessed, bowing his head.
I knew the apartment had two bathrooms; it hit me at once that maybe they had split them, and I felt an idiot for not having thought of it before. I exhaled. "Okay, then," I conceded. "Let's get you into the shower and then changed, Arch, that shirt is ready to fall away in pieces if you wear it a second longer."
I reached out and grabbed his arm, pushing him into the small bathroom with the shower stall. I taped my foot on the floor as Archie gave me his back for a few moments before facing me and sneering derisively. "Are you going to help me undress too?" he asked.
"I think you can do that on your own," I promptly retorted, not going to let him win this power play. I looked around the bathroom swiftly; there was nothing sharp in sight, so I deemed it suitable for him to be left alone in there. I wasn't thinking that he might hurt himself, but there were so many things I had found out I didn't know about him. "I will wait outside, okay?"
I heard the shower window click close, and the water running, before some noise topped over it. It sounded as if Archie was sobbing inside the stall. I banged the door, suddenly worried that he might be crying alone in that shower - I didn't care about him being stark naked, I just wanted to make sure he wouldn't fall over and hurt himself. "Arch, are you okay in there?" I asked, trying hard to control the pain in my voice.
"Yeah!" I heard him replying. The water was cut, and the noise of the screen being open preceded his following words. "Will be out in a few!"
I realized that I hadn't made him get fresh clothes before forcing a shower on him when I heard the water running in the bathroom. I thought it would be a waste of time if he didn't change that filthy shirt he seemed to have worn for weeks, so I decided to take matters in my hands, just like I had done by appearing in his house announced, and after deciding against opening a beer and drinking it before doing anything I went straight to the bedroom.
I had been in that apartment many times before that day. I had even dreamed of spending the night in the same bed where he had lost his innocence to her. I knew the way to the master bedroom, and while I sauntered there I wondered how it would look like - Archie had said he hadn't set foot anywhere but the living room in a month. It scared me and thrilled me at the sane time, knowing I was the only one to breach through the defenses he had built up for years.
Truth be told, I was the only friend he had left that was actually in his life. For some reason, he had pushed everyone away during the course of those five years, everyone but me. He had tried, of course, and Samantha had played a big part in that game, but I had kept imposing my presence in his life as a kind of punishment to myself -I still felt guilty that she had managed to ruin him when it should have been me. I had many more ways to defend myself from heartbreak; I had much more experience than him in that field.
When I opened the door to the master bedroom, my mind went blank.
It looked like a tornado had devastated the place. A shoe box was turned upside down on the bed; thousands of small pieces of what looked like paper were scattered on the floor. I knelt to pick one up, and felt nauseated when I realized what it was.
Archie had torn all his memories to shreds. I picked different pieces and bits of pictures as I choked back on sudden tears. There were small shreds and bigger pieces, as if Archie had used his own hands in a fit of anger or desperation. I could see snatches of his life with Samantha, their trips and their anniversaries, their birthday parties and their early dates. Everything that had been a part of their part was torn and left on the floor. I lifted one particularly big rest that looked like a photo taken in Rome and I felt like I could touch the salty tears Archie had probably shed while destroying his memories.
A sudden rush of sadness coursed through me. I had no right to feel like that, for it had been me who had allowed this to happen, because I had been too scared to tell Archie about my true feelings - about the restless nights with no sleep thinking of him, about the stars in my gaze whenever he was around. My own tears started to fall, uncontrolled, unbidden, as sobs shocked through me and wrecked me. All my guilt, pent up for years of silence and misunderstandings, exploded all at once and all I could do was rock it all out, the same way as I channeled all the anger on a stage - following the movement of my heart, as if my guitar was an extension of my body, as if my tears were a prolongation of the bleeding in my soul.
"Cook."
I was startled by his voice at my back. When I looked up, I know the surprise and pain were visible in my features. I stood up and walked to him, wiping at my eyes with a mix of anger at myself and pity for him. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to... intrude," I apologized softly. "I realized that I hadn't taken you here to pick up some new clothes, so I came and... found this."
"It's okay. Don't worry about it. I supposed you would find it sooner or later. Better sooner than never. Sorry for the mess. I wasn't---"
"--- expecting any visits, I know," I finished his sentence. "Arch, I'm so sorry. Really, I am. I didn't know... couldn't have imagined..."
"That I'd be so fucked up?" His words slayed me. I wouldn't have expected his outburst n swearing words, because he had always been so sweet and innocent, but clearly this belonged to the new Archie I thought I knew but actually didn't know at all. "You know me, Cook."
"I thought I did," I gritted out. "I would have never thought you'd crash five years of memories and go through them all scissoring her from your life."
"She cut me from hers in a rather harsh and quick way, Cook. I had to do the same, I had to get her out of my system, of my life."
"How long?" I asked. He simply ignored me, wading through his clothes in the closet instead of answering me. "How long, Archie?" I insisted, stepping right behind him in an attempt to make him react - he never liked anyone closing up on him, and right then I had him practically pinned to the wall. It was hard for me, but I swallowed my feelings and waited for him to acknowledge the fact that he couldn't escape me.
"It took me a week and a half to gather the courage to enter this room again. Then... I guess it was four more days till I could take the box out from under the bed. It wasn't until yesterday that I tore the pictures apart, and I didn't even use any scissors. I was just angry and disappointed and downright lost when she left. I couldn't think straight." He turned up his palms; I could see faint cuts and more recent ones lacing around his fingers like vicious vines.
The pain was unbearable, deep in my chest.
"I am sorry," I muttered. I took a step back and turned around, so he couldn't see the tears escaping the corners of my eyes, as I began to pick up the pieces scattered on the floor. He walked away, new clothes in hand, and I just let him go. I couldn't stand seeing him so hurt. I hadn't hated Samantha more in my life than in that precise instant.
Halfway through my task of tidying up the bedroom, the doorbell rang. I was surprised by the sound. I looked at him, who had come back dressed in a simple t-shirt and clean jeans, and motioned for him to wait. I sauntered over to the door, not really anticipating any visit. Archie himself had told me several times since I had arrived that he hadn't expected anyone to drop by. However, the heart wrenching feeling in gut helped me to prepare for whoever was waiting out of that door. I turned the knob and plastered a polite smile while opening, already greeting the visitor. "Welcome to the Archuleta Household, may I help you?" My smile dropped off my face when I saw the last person I would have expected leaning on the door jamb, grinning like she owned the place.
"What are you doing here?" I asked instead of greeting her. I couldn't believe she had had the nerve to appear after all she had put Archie through.
"That's what I was going to ask you, actually," she replied calmly.
I wanted to erase that stupid smile off her face. But Samantha just stood there, her ebony hair and her ivory skin contrasting against the charcoal shirt she was wearing, ready to break even more hearts. "This is not your place anymore," I hissed. "Go before I do something I'll regret."
"I'm not going anywhere, David," she retorted forcefully, pulling away from the wall and standing still in the height her high heels conferred to her.
"Quit the silly pleasantries, Cook, and let me in." I scowled at myself for not having peered through the peephole to make sure evil ex girlfriends weren't ready to jump inside the apartment after catching me by surprise. I started spluttering nonsense out of astonishment. "What, are you going to step aside or should I just shove you? Because you know I will," she continued.
"What the fuck are you doing here, Samantha?"
"I could ask you the same question, and I would have more right than you do right now, David. I don't have to answer to your questions. I can still have you thrown out of here."
"This is not your house anymore. The fact that you had to knock instead of using the spare key proves my point. I will not allow you to hurt him anymore, Samantha. I don't know what you're doing here today, but you are so not messing with his head. I will kill you with my bare hands."
"Don't get your knickers twisted in a knot, Cook. I am here to retrieve some of my things. I didn't take them all when I left, and I thought today would be a great moment to pick them up. And," she added, emphasizing her next words, "I didn't use the spare key because someone changed the locks the second I walked out the door."
"Well, I guess that, if you wanted out so badly, what kind of a gentleman wouldn't help you find your way?" I threw back at her, fists closing and opening at my sides as I fought with myself the need to just punch her face.
"Where is Davey?"
"He doesn't want to see you."
"But he ought to. He has some things that belong to me, and I want them back. I thought he, being such a gentleman, would return them to me, but he has been keeping them for God knows what purposes, and now I want them."
She took advantage of my lack of response to that to shove her way into the apartment before I could stop her. When I turned around to grasp her arm and force her out, I was struck by the sight of Archie just standing there, breath ragged and elaborated. "You are not welcome in my house, Samantha," he rasped out.
She smiled sweetly. "Oh, Davey!" she exclaimed in a sugary voice, her lipstick shining under the bright sunlight coming in through the open door. "How are you?"
"Get out of here."
"Now that's how you treat me," she complained, lips pursing. "After all I have given to you, all you do is try and kick me out."
"You have done so much for him, right," I interrupted. I couldn't take that anymore. "Of course you did, Samantha. You took him from his family and his friends and isolated him from the world he knew, and then you used him and threw him away. You've done more than enough."
I lost track for a while, just witnessing the silent match being played between Archie and Samantha; so many things were being said in quiet stares and angry glares, but I couldn't lay a finger on any of it. All I knew was that Archie was by my side, trembling ever so slightly, but not enough for me not to notice it. I wrapped an warm arm around his shoulders and pulled him next to me. Samantha squinted her eyes at us for long moments until she finally spoke again. "I guess he took no time in calling you after I walked out the door," she snarled.
"You can keep guessing," I retorted curtly. "I am not even paying attention to you, and he won't either. Now, get the fuck out of this house before I call the police and have you arrested for breaking in."
"This is my house too, and here I have some of my things," she attempted to protest.
"Then make a list, write down your new address, leave it in the mailbox by the entrance and I will make sure they are sent to you as soon as possible."
She stared at Archie, licked her lips tentatively and smiled again, a sweet, poisoned smile. "Davey, don't you have anything to say? I have given you almost six years of my life, and I made one stupid mistake. Aren't you going to let me in and try to apologize to you?"
I shook his head in disbelief. "I thought you came here to get your stuff."
"Yes," she replied shortly. "He is the only thing I left I want back. Doesn't a girl have a right to beg for forgiveness?"
"A girl probably does," I smirked. "But a bitch like you? No, I don't think you have a right to do anything."
"Don't get between us, David. This is something Davey and I have to discuss without anyone around to interfere."
"Discuss my ass," I finally exclaimed, letting go of Archie and attempting in vain to control my anger. "Listen, Arch, why don't you go back to your room and lie down for a while? I will be there in a few minutes, okay?"
"You can't order him around!" she screeched. "I'm sure he wants to talk to me, don't you, Davey?" She threw her arms in the air under my fixed stare. "Say something, anything, for God's sake!"
"Don't use the name of the Lord in vain," he managed to mutter. I suppressed a laugh in the back of my throat, as if I was choking on one of my bad jokes. She just looked gobsmacked.
"Just go, Archie," I told him, turning my eyes to him - wet eyes that I wasn't sure could fool him anyway, but I had to try. "I'll be with you in a few minutes, promise. I will not leave you alone for long."
"Okay," he agreed. I gently shoved him toward the corridor, before raising my voice to her.
"You didn't stop till you had him where you wanted him!"
"I have loved him for five years, where have you been all this time, David?"
"You are just a whore who only sought his fortune and his fame, and once you stole it away you left!" I was losing my cool, and I didn't like it at all, but I couldn't help it.
"Better to be a slut than to be a sicko, isn't it, isn't it better to be like me than to be like you?"
"Quit your games! You're not getting to me! Get out of here before I call the police for real this time, Samantha!"
"You wouldn't dare," she whispered dangerously.
"Don't come back ever!"
"You can't keep him for yourself forever, David, he still loves me!"
"Call it sick infatuation, bitch!"
"Speak for yourself"
And that did it for me. I lunged forward, and shoved her outside the door unceremoniously, yelling at her. I don't even remember what either of us was saying, just that we were screaming our lungs out. I slammed the door on her face when she was about to retort wittily about something I had said, and walked back to Archie's room attempting to calm myself. He was asleep when I reached the bedroom, flopped down on the bed with his head turned towards the wall opposite to me. I sat down besides him, my hand shooting up to his mop of hair as my weight dipped the bed. "She wrecked you, Arch," I whispered, "and I don't even know how to fix this, but I swear to God, I swear, I am getting you back exactly where you belong."
The single tear that slid down my cheek found its way inside my collar before I could even gather the strength to lift my hand from Archie's skin to wipe it away.
[next]
[author] Lire Casander
[beta] princessleia04. Any remaining mistakes are my own fault.
[pairing]David Cook/David Archuleta, David Archuleta/OFC
[rating] PG
[word count] 13,054
[summary] this is the way that I'm learning to breathe, I'm learning to crawl, I'm finding that you and you alone can break my fall
[disclaimer] I don't own nor have ever met David Cook nor David Archuleta. Everything about them is completely fiction, and any similarity with reality is a mere coincidence. I do not own The Impossible, Blow Away, You First Believed, Learning To Breathe, Turn Around, Switchfoot, Joe Nichols, A Fine Frenzy or Hoku either. I do own Samantha, the original female character in this.
[warnings] Song!fic. First person, told by David Cook. Angst. Fluff.
[author's notes] Title and summary taken from Learning To Breathe by Switchfoot. This is a sequel to Standing On The Edge Of Me, so you might want to read that one before getting into this one.
[author's notes 2] Written for charliebb's birthday which is tomorrow, but since I will not be able to post this on the actual date, she gets an early fic. Inspired by prompt!lyrics left by charliebb, penrith1, gracelessheart and rajkumari905 - The Impossible by Joe Nichols, Blow Away by A Fine Frenzy and You First Believed by Hoku. I hope you have an amazing day filled with all the happiness you deserve!
Unsinkable ships, sink
Unbreakable walls, break
Sometimes the things you think would never happen
Happen just like that
Unbendable steel, bends
If the fury of the wind is unstoppable
I've learned to never underestimate
The impossible
There were few things that scared me to the point of second guessing myself, but what I was about to do was probably on top of that short list. I rummaged inside the plastic bag I was holding, pushing the beer bottles and the orange juice bricks and the oatmeal packages around with trembling fingers. Such an odd combination of items, but they were perfect for my purposes. I wasn't so sure I could make it in one piece through what I had settled myself for, but I had promised Lupe Archuleta that I would, at least, try. And I wasn't a man to break promises made to ladies who had looked after me and had my back so many times before. So I sighed loudly into the bag, not really seeing any point in hanging around in my car waiting for a miracle to happen upon me - waiting for that business call that would serve as excuse for me to leave and come back when I was less busy, meaning that I maybe wouldn't set foot ever again further than my own front porch.
Instead, I opened the door of my car with more force than necessary and stepped outside in the cold, feeling the bite of November hitting my skin as I locked the vehicle with one hand and used the other to balance myself and the plastic bag; the guitar I had taken out of the trunk was dangerously hanging off my left shoulder, so I took a couple of seconds to readjust it across my back for my comfort and its safety. I walked over the tall building erected in front of me, my booted steps reverberating against the hard concrete of that lonesome parking lot, the bag dangling off my numb fingers. I had been pushing this moment off for far too long, and the more I avoided it, the bigger it grew as a regret in the back of my mind, weighing on my heart like a huge mistake. I needed to do something; and that something was exactly what I was doing just then - walk across a lonely parking lot in search of a chimera.
I reached the main entrance to the building in no time; the porter frowned slightly at me before actually recognizing me and therefore doing the math - he pointed me towards the elevators, not before warning me that I might not be welcome. I shrugged it off, thanked him and grasped the handles of the bag tighter as I called one of the elevators.
I still wasn't ready to face whatever was waiting for me upstairs, but once the lift doors closed behind me I had no way out. Besides, everyone had always thought I was a brave man - if only they'd know the truth about me, the fear paralysing me whenever I stopped to think of the consequences of all my actions, the world would know what a coward I really was. I had chickened out of so many fights in my life, even out of the most important of them all. I had just turned around and run away; there wasn't a single day I didn't regret that decision.
The corridor was long, poorly lit, with several impersonal doors at both sides. I searched for the plate I was looking for and sighed when I found it. Shifting my weight from one feet to the other, I shook my head to give myself strength. You can do this, I told myself inwardly. You won American Idol, you can surely face this. it was easier said than done, I had proved time and again in my life, but as contradictory as it might sound I had never backed out of a challenge.
This was all my fault, and it was up to me to fix the mess before the shit hit the fan. I knocked on the door with my eyes closed.
For long moments nothing happened. There was no sound whatsoever, no movement behind the closed door. I knocked again, but I got the same reaction. It felt like waiting on forever to happen, but forever was being slippery.
I resumed my knocking after a few minutes; I had to reassure myself that I had to do it in order to sleep at night. I heard ruffling inside the apartment. I waited, and waited, and waited, until the steps stopped close to the door. I stood upright, the bag still in my hand, so when he opened the door he wouldn't see how I wreck I was.
There was a deaf noise and a crack in the junctures allowed a ray of light sweep into the apartment from the corridor. I leaned unconsciously against the wall beside the door, eyes never leaving the knob now turning completely around. The door opened.
I could see him the moment the void was wide enough for his figure to occupy it all. I let my eyes roam over his face, taking in the paleness, the dark bags under his eyes, the sadness in his gaze, the stubble that looked so out of place on his face. What struck out to me the most, however, was the general state of his allure - the wrinkles in his shirt that had been worn for far too many days in a row, the stains in his jeans that had held so many fuck-ups with undisclosed sources of stains, the unruffled hair that hadn't been combed or tamed down in forever. I gulped, ever so slightly - I hoped he hadn't noticed my nervousness, trusting too much in my acting skills, and they seemed to work for he didn't say anything.
I stared down at one broken David Archuleta for long moments before even thinking of speaking; in the end I sighed and whispered mostly to myself, "It's worst than I suspected." He looked like a small boy lost in a sea of doubts wider than the horizon we would never be able to reach; I chided myself inwardly for having been so selfish these past five years - if I hadn't passed on the chance of knowing Samantha better, Archie would have never gone through so much pain. Granted, it would have been me the one dumped unceremoniously, but I was more experienced than him - and I hadn't left my whole life behind to pursue a dream that was meant to become a nightmare.
We remained still, staring at each other, for the longest of times, until I decided I didn't stand the silence any longer. "Archie, are you going to let me in, or should I invite myself?"
He stepped aside quietly; I didn't know how to behave when he wasn't giving me any guidelines, so I just ambled inside. The apartment was exactly the way I remembered it being - small and cozy, albeit downright messy and untidy. In two steps I had practically entered the living room. I rested my right hand on the frame of that door, mustering up the courage to turn around and look at his thinning form.
"Sorry for the mess," he apologized. "I wasn't expecting any visits today."
"You haven't been expecting visits since last month or so I've been told," I managed to choke out. I couldn't uncover my source - Brooke would have killed me for telling, and Archie would have murdered her. along with me, Brooke White was the only other person to still have contact with Archie, and not because the boy had allowed it. Brooke operated from the distance, getting his information from different people who lived or worked around Archie, for our kid had pushed everyone away when Samantha came into the picture. I fought tooth and nail not to be sent away with false smiles and fake promises - after all, everything that just happened was totally my fault. "I should have come sooner. Archie, this is a pigsty," I continued, throwing a look around. "When did you fire the cleaning lady?"
"She left on her own accord a week ago," he muttered. "Said something about not being cut out to clean after someone who was clearly unable to take care of himself."
"If she said that, I can see what her point was," I had to retort, pointing at the state of the room we were about to step into. "I should tell you to clean this up, but I have more important tasks at hand."
"Like what?" He was snapping at me, harshly, hotly. I shivered.
"Like getting you a bath right now, and some alcohol."
"I don't drink alcohol," he said, pursing his lips. "You already know that."
"The alcohol is for me," I replied, lifting the bag by its handles. "And that bath is for you. You surely need it." I shivered and wrinkled my nose - Archie was a complete disaster, with his clothes ready to fall off his body at any given time. He was just a child, and I could see it then. I had thought he could be a mature man, but I had sent him to a sure death. "Come on, Arch, let's get you decent." I began walking towards the bathroom but I couldn't hear his footsteps following me, so I stopped and turned around, only to see him shaking his head no. I frowned.
"No," he whispered.
"Why?" I tried to keep my voice cool, intent on not letting any emotion show for fear I could crumble in front of him, and Archie needed my strength, not my weakness.
"All her things are still in the bathroom," he confessed, bowing his head.
I knew the apartment had two bathrooms; it hit me at once that maybe they had split them, and I felt an idiot for not having thought of it before. I exhaled. "Okay, then," I conceded. "Let's get you into the shower and then changed, Arch, that shirt is ready to fall away in pieces if you wear it a second longer."
I reached out and grabbed his arm, pushing him into the small bathroom with the shower stall. I taped my foot on the floor as Archie gave me his back for a few moments before facing me and sneering derisively. "Are you going to help me undress too?" he asked.
"I think you can do that on your own," I promptly retorted, not going to let him win this power play. I looked around the bathroom swiftly; there was nothing sharp in sight, so I deemed it suitable for him to be left alone in there. I wasn't thinking that he might hurt himself, but there were so many things I had found out I didn't know about him. "I will wait outside, okay?"
I heard the shower window click close, and the water running, before some noise topped over it. It sounded as if Archie was sobbing inside the stall. I banged the door, suddenly worried that he might be crying alone in that shower - I didn't care about him being stark naked, I just wanted to make sure he wouldn't fall over and hurt himself. "Arch, are you okay in there?" I asked, trying hard to control the pain in my voice.
"Yeah!" I heard him replying. The water was cut, and the noise of the screen being open preceded his following words. "Will be out in a few!"
I realized that I hadn't made him get fresh clothes before forcing a shower on him when I heard the water running in the bathroom. I thought it would be a waste of time if he didn't change that filthy shirt he seemed to have worn for weeks, so I decided to take matters in my hands, just like I had done by appearing in his house announced, and after deciding against opening a beer and drinking it before doing anything I went straight to the bedroom.
I had been in that apartment many times before that day. I had even dreamed of spending the night in the same bed where he had lost his innocence to her. I knew the way to the master bedroom, and while I sauntered there I wondered how it would look like - Archie had said he hadn't set foot anywhere but the living room in a month. It scared me and thrilled me at the sane time, knowing I was the only one to breach through the defenses he had built up for years.
Truth be told, I was the only friend he had left that was actually in his life. For some reason, he had pushed everyone away during the course of those five years, everyone but me. He had tried, of course, and Samantha had played a big part in that game, but I had kept imposing my presence in his life as a kind of punishment to myself -I still felt guilty that she had managed to ruin him when it should have been me. I had many more ways to defend myself from heartbreak; I had much more experience than him in that field.
When I opened the door to the master bedroom, my mind went blank.
It looked like a tornado had devastated the place. A shoe box was turned upside down on the bed; thousands of small pieces of what looked like paper were scattered on the floor. I knelt to pick one up, and felt nauseated when I realized what it was.
Archie had torn all his memories to shreds. I picked different pieces and bits of pictures as I choked back on sudden tears. There were small shreds and bigger pieces, as if Archie had used his own hands in a fit of anger or desperation. I could see snatches of his life with Samantha, their trips and their anniversaries, their birthday parties and their early dates. Everything that had been a part of their part was torn and left on the floor. I lifted one particularly big rest that looked like a photo taken in Rome and I felt like I could touch the salty tears Archie had probably shed while destroying his memories.
A sudden rush of sadness coursed through me. I had no right to feel like that, for it had been me who had allowed this to happen, because I had been too scared to tell Archie about my true feelings - about the restless nights with no sleep thinking of him, about the stars in my gaze whenever he was around. My own tears started to fall, uncontrolled, unbidden, as sobs shocked through me and wrecked me. All my guilt, pent up for years of silence and misunderstandings, exploded all at once and all I could do was rock it all out, the same way as I channeled all the anger on a stage - following the movement of my heart, as if my guitar was an extension of my body, as if my tears were a prolongation of the bleeding in my soul.
"Cook."
I was startled by his voice at my back. When I looked up, I know the surprise and pain were visible in my features. I stood up and walked to him, wiping at my eyes with a mix of anger at myself and pity for him. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to... intrude," I apologized softly. "I realized that I hadn't taken you here to pick up some new clothes, so I came and... found this."
"It's okay. Don't worry about it. I supposed you would find it sooner or later. Better sooner than never. Sorry for the mess. I wasn't---"
"--- expecting any visits, I know," I finished his sentence. "Arch, I'm so sorry. Really, I am. I didn't know... couldn't have imagined..."
"That I'd be so fucked up?" His words slayed me. I wouldn't have expected his outburst n swearing words, because he had always been so sweet and innocent, but clearly this belonged to the new Archie I thought I knew but actually didn't know at all. "You know me, Cook."
"I thought I did," I gritted out. "I would have never thought you'd crash five years of memories and go through them all scissoring her from your life."
"She cut me from hers in a rather harsh and quick way, Cook. I had to do the same, I had to get her out of my system, of my life."
"How long?" I asked. He simply ignored me, wading through his clothes in the closet instead of answering me. "How long, Archie?" I insisted, stepping right behind him in an attempt to make him react - he never liked anyone closing up on him, and right then I had him practically pinned to the wall. It was hard for me, but I swallowed my feelings and waited for him to acknowledge the fact that he couldn't escape me.
"It took me a week and a half to gather the courage to enter this room again. Then... I guess it was four more days till I could take the box out from under the bed. It wasn't until yesterday that I tore the pictures apart, and I didn't even use any scissors. I was just angry and disappointed and downright lost when she left. I couldn't think straight." He turned up his palms; I could see faint cuts and more recent ones lacing around his fingers like vicious vines.
The pain was unbearable, deep in my chest.
"I am sorry," I muttered. I took a step back and turned around, so he couldn't see the tears escaping the corners of my eyes, as I began to pick up the pieces scattered on the floor. He walked away, new clothes in hand, and I just let him go. I couldn't stand seeing him so hurt. I hadn't hated Samantha more in my life than in that precise instant.
Halfway through my task of tidying up the bedroom, the doorbell rang. I was surprised by the sound. I looked at him, who had come back dressed in a simple t-shirt and clean jeans, and motioned for him to wait. I sauntered over to the door, not really anticipating any visit. Archie himself had told me several times since I had arrived that he hadn't expected anyone to drop by. However, the heart wrenching feeling in gut helped me to prepare for whoever was waiting out of that door. I turned the knob and plastered a polite smile while opening, already greeting the visitor. "Welcome to the Archuleta Household, may I help you?" My smile dropped off my face when I saw the last person I would have expected leaning on the door jamb, grinning like she owned the place.
"What are you doing here?" I asked instead of greeting her. I couldn't believe she had had the nerve to appear after all she had put Archie through.
"That's what I was going to ask you, actually," she replied calmly.
I wanted to erase that stupid smile off her face. But Samantha just stood there, her ebony hair and her ivory skin contrasting against the charcoal shirt she was wearing, ready to break even more hearts. "This is not your place anymore," I hissed. "Go before I do something I'll regret."
"I'm not going anywhere, David," she retorted forcefully, pulling away from the wall and standing still in the height her high heels conferred to her.
"Quit the silly pleasantries, Cook, and let me in." I scowled at myself for not having peered through the peephole to make sure evil ex girlfriends weren't ready to jump inside the apartment after catching me by surprise. I started spluttering nonsense out of astonishment. "What, are you going to step aside or should I just shove you? Because you know I will," she continued.
"What the fuck are you doing here, Samantha?"
"I could ask you the same question, and I would have more right than you do right now, David. I don't have to answer to your questions. I can still have you thrown out of here."
"This is not your house anymore. The fact that you had to knock instead of using the spare key proves my point. I will not allow you to hurt him anymore, Samantha. I don't know what you're doing here today, but you are so not messing with his head. I will kill you with my bare hands."
"Don't get your knickers twisted in a knot, Cook. I am here to retrieve some of my things. I didn't take them all when I left, and I thought today would be a great moment to pick them up. And," she added, emphasizing her next words, "I didn't use the spare key because someone changed the locks the second I walked out the door."
"Well, I guess that, if you wanted out so badly, what kind of a gentleman wouldn't help you find your way?" I threw back at her, fists closing and opening at my sides as I fought with myself the need to just punch her face.
"Where is Davey?"
"He doesn't want to see you."
"But he ought to. He has some things that belong to me, and I want them back. I thought he, being such a gentleman, would return them to me, but he has been keeping them for God knows what purposes, and now I want them."
She took advantage of my lack of response to that to shove her way into the apartment before I could stop her. When I turned around to grasp her arm and force her out, I was struck by the sight of Archie just standing there, breath ragged and elaborated. "You are not welcome in my house, Samantha," he rasped out.
She smiled sweetly. "Oh, Davey!" she exclaimed in a sugary voice, her lipstick shining under the bright sunlight coming in through the open door. "How are you?"
"Get out of here."
"Now that's how you treat me," she complained, lips pursing. "After all I have given to you, all you do is try and kick me out."
"You have done so much for him, right," I interrupted. I couldn't take that anymore. "Of course you did, Samantha. You took him from his family and his friends and isolated him from the world he knew, and then you used him and threw him away. You've done more than enough."
I lost track for a while, just witnessing the silent match being played between Archie and Samantha; so many things were being said in quiet stares and angry glares, but I couldn't lay a finger on any of it. All I knew was that Archie was by my side, trembling ever so slightly, but not enough for me not to notice it. I wrapped an warm arm around his shoulders and pulled him next to me. Samantha squinted her eyes at us for long moments until she finally spoke again. "I guess he took no time in calling you after I walked out the door," she snarled.
"You can keep guessing," I retorted curtly. "I am not even paying attention to you, and he won't either. Now, get the fuck out of this house before I call the police and have you arrested for breaking in."
"This is my house too, and here I have some of my things," she attempted to protest.
"Then make a list, write down your new address, leave it in the mailbox by the entrance and I will make sure they are sent to you as soon as possible."
She stared at Archie, licked her lips tentatively and smiled again, a sweet, poisoned smile. "Davey, don't you have anything to say? I have given you almost six years of my life, and I made one stupid mistake. Aren't you going to let me in and try to apologize to you?"
I shook his head in disbelief. "I thought you came here to get your stuff."
"Yes," she replied shortly. "He is the only thing I left I want back. Doesn't a girl have a right to beg for forgiveness?"
"A girl probably does," I smirked. "But a bitch like you? No, I don't think you have a right to do anything."
"Don't get between us, David. This is something Davey and I have to discuss without anyone around to interfere."
"Discuss my ass," I finally exclaimed, letting go of Archie and attempting in vain to control my anger. "Listen, Arch, why don't you go back to your room and lie down for a while? I will be there in a few minutes, okay?"
"You can't order him around!" she screeched. "I'm sure he wants to talk to me, don't you, Davey?" She threw her arms in the air under my fixed stare. "Say something, anything, for God's sake!"
"Don't use the name of the Lord in vain," he managed to mutter. I suppressed a laugh in the back of my throat, as if I was choking on one of my bad jokes. She just looked gobsmacked.
"Just go, Archie," I told him, turning my eyes to him - wet eyes that I wasn't sure could fool him anyway, but I had to try. "I'll be with you in a few minutes, promise. I will not leave you alone for long."
"Okay," he agreed. I gently shoved him toward the corridor, before raising my voice to her.
"You didn't stop till you had him where you wanted him!"
"I have loved him for five years, where have you been all this time, David?"
"You are just a whore who only sought his fortune and his fame, and once you stole it away you left!" I was losing my cool, and I didn't like it at all, but I couldn't help it.
"Better to be a slut than to be a sicko, isn't it, isn't it better to be like me than to be like you?"
"Quit your games! You're not getting to me! Get out of here before I call the police for real this time, Samantha!"
"You wouldn't dare," she whispered dangerously.
"Don't come back ever!"
"You can't keep him for yourself forever, David, he still loves me!"
"Call it sick infatuation, bitch!"
"Speak for yourself"
And that did it for me. I lunged forward, and shoved her outside the door unceremoniously, yelling at her. I don't even remember what either of us was saying, just that we were screaming our lungs out. I slammed the door on her face when she was about to retort wittily about something I had said, and walked back to Archie's room attempting to calm myself. He was asleep when I reached the bedroom, flopped down on the bed with his head turned towards the wall opposite to me. I sat down besides him, my hand shooting up to his mop of hair as my weight dipped the bed. "She wrecked you, Arch," I whispered, "and I don't even know how to fix this, but I swear to God, I swear, I am getting you back exactly where you belong."
The single tear that slid down my cheek found its way inside my collar before I could even gather the strength to lift my hand from Archie's skin to wipe it away.
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