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Heartbroken	By : purplecandlelight Category: Singers/Bands/Musicians > Rasmus Views: 1190 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know the members of Rasmus. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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**Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know the members of Rasmus. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.**
The silence from the front room was deafening, but the longer it stretched the more my imagination ran away from me. Leaning against the cool tile counter top my mind showed me images of him sitting on that couch, brow furrowed, trying to put it all together, trying to make sense of it all – the things I had said, the things I hadn’t. As it all fell into place a gentle smile would come over his soft lips and as he made his way into the kitchen to find me, his mind would be made up. Coming to me, our arms wrapped tightly around one another we’d finally have that peace I had so desperately been seeking. My shoulders jumped and my jaw tightened as my little imaginary world was shattered by the cold sound of my front door closing and that’s when my mind resigned itself to the fact that he wasn’t running after me, in fact it appeared that he was running away from me. Staring mindlessly at the wall on the other side of the room, I felt my knees begin to give away and I allowed my body to slowly slide down the smooth surface of the lower cupboards, my weight finally coming to rest on the cool floor. Reaching blindly into the cupboard beside me I silently pulled out an almost full bottle of whiskey, a bottle which I held as though it were the only thing still connecting me to this world – my amber colored lifeline. Cradling the bottle in my arms I let my mind wonder, thinking of my life without him, without my bestfriend.
“Fuck!” my foot crashing harshly against the kitchen island I had sunk behind as tears slowly began streaming down my warm cheeks, all the while my mind screaming at me that I should have just kept my mouth shut and sucked up the situation. But it was too late for that, and as I twisted the top off the square-ish bottle images of when my family had first moved to Helsinki danced through my mind.
I had only been six when my family had been uprooted from the States to Helsinki for my father’s job. The neighborhood we moved into had been mostly elderly people, which left me eager for the first day of school; and that’s when it happened. That first day I was pushed down by the class bully at recess and as I lay there in the gravel, trying to figure out what the other girl had said as she pushed me a pudgy cheeked, brown haired boy from my class came up to me with one word, “ok?”.
As I felt the whiskey drip down my throat I let a smile caress my lips as I remembered Lauri telling me years later that “ok” was the only thing he knew in English at the time. It had been the perfect beginning of an invaluable friendship. When we were 12 his family moved to a new home a few blocks from mine and we became inseparable. Afternoons after school would find us sitting in his room listening to music, or me watching him trying to learn to skateboard along the streets of Helsinki, or we’d be in the local park musing about dreams and where we thought we’d be in years to come. Taking another long swig I replayed the conversation that day in the park when he told me he was dropping out of school. My heart had dropped to the pit of my stomach that afternoon as I thought about everyday life without him in my classes and my heart broke when I had ignorantly decided that he would probably not be in my life anymore after that. I walked away from him that day, and after I was far enough away that I couldn’t hear him calling after me I ran, I ran away from the fear of loosing my dearest friend. Hours later he had found me, puffy eyed and the last remnants of water in my body still trickling down my red cheeks. His embrace was nothing but one of friendship and the purest concern that early evening sitting at the harbor; but even at 15 that young man so closely resembled the man he had become that I could almost picture us there, on that bench now and once again hearing those words he has uttered to me so many times, “This won’t change anything between us.”
The light of the moon shone through the window, helping to illuminate the dimly lit kitchen and on close inspection of my favorite bottle I realized I had managed to drain half of the contents while traipsing through my memories. Bringing my legs together, sitting cross legged with the open bottle nestled securely between them, I tried sitting up straight, my back pressed firmly against the cool wood of the cupboard behind me. Holding my torso as still as I could manage, but still noticing a slight sway in my posture, I began to wonder where he’d gone. For the briefest of moments I considered calling Eero to see if he’d heard anything from him, but as soon as I realized I’d have to stand up to get the phone I dismissed this option. I quickly relegated myself to the notion that I was simply not going to find out where he was or what he was doing.
“Why. . .Did. . .You. . .Say. . .Anything. . .?” I asked the room, my head butting back against the cupboard door between each slightly slurred word. Bringing the bottle back to my lips I let the amber liquid roll over my tongue and down my throat as my eyes fell closed and my head leaned back. The sound of suction breaking filled the room as I yanked the bottle away from my numb lips; holding the bottle at arms length I regarded the glass and what little was left of its contents, “This won’t change anything between us will it?” A small giggle erupted from me as I waited for the bottles response; finally satisfied that this bottle was the strong silent type I gave it a quick approving nod before bringing it back to my lips and promptly draining the last of its holdings. As my shaky hand pulled the glass carcass away from my mouth I noticed my vision beginning to blur and the apartment starting to spin slightly.
“Stop moving!” my scream punctuated by the sound of the bottle hitting the wall by the doorway and abruptly shattering into a thousand chunks and shards. With a defeated moan I felt my torso sliding to the right and before I new it I was laying contentedly on the cool, inviting floor. My cheek pressed firmly against the smooth floor it felt as though I was sinking into it. A daft smile spread across my numb lips as my body and the floor melded together and my ten ton eyelids fell closed. Drifting into my dream world on the fuzzy cloud of a drunken haze I felt as though nothing could touch me in my linoleum cased world. A fuzzy dream filled with bright memories and melancholic songs toyed with my already drifting mind. My dark haired phantom filled my dream until the memories ran out and my dream went black. Images of us replaced by the crackling noise of crushed glass and a tired sigh. Firm arms slipping under my knees and around my back, my limp body pulled in close against my invisible phantom as he rescued me from my linoleum tomb. Tingling arms wrapping around a thick neck I sank against my phantom and let my body travel without any assistance from me.
“What are we going to do with you little one?” the husky voice filled the air as my body landed gently on familiar feathery comfort. Strong limbs that had carried me pulled away slowly.
“Don’t go.” my arms tightening around that neck.
“I was just going. . .”
“No, every time I close my eyes you’re there, but you leave so quick. Stay this time.”
“Open your eyes Anna,” a rough hand pushing the hair from my eyes, “I’m right here.”
“When I open my eyes the dream will be over and I’ll be alone again.” my voice cracking barely above a whisper as I felt the mattress shift next to me. Strong arms pulling me in, I buried my face in the smoke scented fabric of my phantom’s shirt. Hands trailing over my spine, the sound of a steady heart beat in my head – that’s how my body was taken over by sleep. And not once did I open my eyes, for fear of ending the dream too soon.
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Heartbroken