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Last Goodbye	By : Duchess Category: Individual Celebrities > Johnny Depp Views: 2993 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know Johnny Depp. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Last Goodbye
- 1
Final Goodbye

PG-13
Disc:Don't know em, don't own em, never happened
Summery: An old lover of Rivers goes back to his grave to say a last goodbye.

An icy wind blew through the thick trees around the edge of the graveyard. It disturbed the thick, lush grass that grew over the graves, tossed the ivy that settled over the older gravestones and whistled through the cracks in the old mausoleums. The sky was a dark silver gray, clouds laden with rain that would threaten to wash away the town where it stood brought about a false dusk, darkening the world and dropping the temperature to just above freezing.

A lone figure stood on the path through the graveyard, dark head hung low on his chest as if in prayer, but his hands were thrust deep into the pockets of his dark leather coat. The low white marble headstone that had once been a draw for so many reporters and tourists was thankfully deserted, so there was no one around to see the tears fall.

He remembered the young man he had once met, his blonde hair, slightly long as was the fashion brushing his collar, thener ner of his eyes crinkled in genuine laughter as the pretty female reporter cracked yet another joke to the young actor. It was the first time he had seen him, at that interview for a magazine, and they had been introduced just hours after he had first admired Hollywood’s most up and coming star.

The star changed year by year, he had been it once, raged about by all the papers and magazines in the world before some other bright young thing caught their eye, and he had felt no anger about being replaced once again, because River Jude Phoenix was once of the brightest things he had ever seen.

From the first second their eyes met, they had haunted him, their clear blue depths searing into his soul, while his body raged at him to hold the young man who had shook his hand after those first staid introductions and told him he was a fan. He had dreamed about those eyes when he had reached his home, his interview only lasting a few minutes due to his extreme preoccupation with the young man who had walked out of the door.

His shy, reserved manner had endeared him, just as his beauty had captivated him, and he contemplated for one of the first times in his career actuallyng tng to one of those awful LA parties. Rooms filled with sparkly people with shining personalities that were as different to genuine as diamonds wto gto glass, but he would endure to see him again. And saw him again he did.

After an hour of scowling at everyone who came near him, and treading the edges of the large hotel conference room, he spotted the young prodigy walking through the crowd, a small dark haired girl attached to his arm. The swell of disappointment at the sight of the young woman was met with his own brand of determined resignation and he made his way carefully through the crowd to the private bar where the blonde was already getting the bartenders attention and ordering two drinks.

They had talked that night, all night, until the remnants of the glittering crowd had gone to their high powered sports cars and limos to take them to their ‘I must be seen’ houses for the night. Until the next time.

The young woman had long since gone home, obscenely fed up with Rivers shyness in the face of all things celebrity and his refusal to mingle with the great stars that only glittered on the outside. The ride home that he offered was accepted with one of those adorable smiles that creased the side of his eyes, and the blonde followed him out to the waiting limo that had been hired for him.

He had immediately put the privacy screen up, the action almost reflex in defense of his privacy, and the two men settled back into the plush leather seats to talk. He didn’t know what happened the first time. The smile was used one too many times, or the quiet laughter that sent shivers down his spine sent one of those shivers somewhere else, because he leant over quickly and brushed his lips over the full ones of the blonde man next to him.

He had sat back after that and closed his eyes, half hoping that the blonde would just put the kiss down to his reported eccentricity, but he doubted that would happen. He took a moment to savor the remembered feeling of those soft lips on his and so missed the stunned look on the other mans face. He tried to imprint the memory onto his mind so he could get on with his life, and so he missed the longing look the other man gave him.

He didn’t miss the soft lips he tried so hard to remember press against his once more, the strong, lithe body sliding into his lap despite the restricting tuxedos they had been forced into. He knew then that he could get on with his life, as much as he knew that River would be a part of it.

My Own Private Idaho came and went, and while the world blamed the director for River Phoenix’s descent into the world of sex and drugs, Johnny blamed other things. Fame, the press life. He blamed all of them, because even from the first kiss he had felt a despair to be so constricted by everything that was supposed to make him free.

He remembered the night in the clubs, the drugs, the drinking. Carrying the young man home to whatever hotel they were staying at, or to the Apartment River kept in LA. The nights spent waiting up, just in case he stopped breathing, the hours spent holding back the long blonde hair so he could empty the expensive contents of his stomach after another night of hard drinking.

He remembered the women, the men, unable to handle the wild thing that had brought them h he he remembered showing them to the door and bribing them, or not to keep everything quite. Then he tried to tame the beast that they had released, and more often than not it left them raw, bloody and satisfied.

He remembered the night he couldn’t take it anymore. It was Halloween and he’d walked in on his lover, elbow deep in a needle, the look of bliss and pain on his face more than he could bear any longer. River had gone into a rage as he sometimes did, the drugs taking hold of his mind, and the things he kept trappn hin his soul leaping out, every bit of pain and anguish aimed at he person who would feel them most.

He had told him to go, to get himself help before it was too late, and then he could come back. He’d said that he would always love him, because he didn’t know anything else. Because the blonde had worked his way into every part of him and there wasn’t anything he could do to get him out.

He didn’t want to.

The blonde had gone clubbing that night, like almost every other night, the call of the fast life too seductive for him to stay away. At least he had known where River had gone, and so on on the edge of insanity when the phone call had come through. Joaquin was on the other end, and the younger man had begged for him to help, that River was getting crazy, that he’d taken something, and he was scared.

He had arrived just as the blonde staggered out of the club, Joaquin and a blonde girl running after him. His angel stumbled, falling to his knees on the cold sidewalk, and the last time He saw the blondes face was when it contorted in anguish, and two words made their way out of the slack lips that he had lost himself in for so long.

“I’m Sorry.”

He was sorry too. Despair numbed him as he watch the beautiful body of the boy he loved die in the arms of his brother, the younger man sobbing wildly over the still body until the paramedics took it away under a clean, white sheet. He was sorry that he couldn’t save him; sorry that he apparently hadn’t loved him enough, sorry that Hollywood and the tarnished underbelly of the glittering world had killed a soul so golden it almost hurt to look at the man who held it.

The voice haunted him, every declaration of love or angry word that had ever been levelled at him had run through his head for the past ten years, while he still held onto the immortal memory of his old love. He had another chance, though.

He thought of another bright young thing waiting back in the hotel room, while his lover ‘took care of a few things’. He wouldn’t fail Orlando like he had failed River. He would love him, care for him until he had nothing left to give, like he apparently hadn’t been able to do for River.

He had loved, and he had lost, and now instead of losing he was going to give everything away; his heart, his soul, his love. He placed the whit rose he had bought on the lip of the white marble stone, a closing gesture before he turned and walked away for the last time.

He wouldn’t be back.

A warm breeze tickled his face, and rushed down the neck of his coat, caressing him like a lover before retreating and being replaced once more by the howling wind that threatened rain every step he took. He knew it was his old lovers way of saying goodbye.

Johnny Depp turned when he reached the old iron gate of the graveyard and looked back, eyes instinctively drawn to the one white headstone that, in his mind, stood out from the rest.

“Goodbye.” He whispered into the air. “I forgive you.”
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Last Goodbye