Two and a Half Years Ago
TWO AND A HALF YEARS AGO
JANE
My head is groggy and eyes are blurry as I blindly reach for my phone. It buzzes against my nightstand, pulling me out of sleep. Who the hell is texting me at 4 am?
I finally locate my phone and squeeze my eyes shut at the blinding light. Peeking through nearly shut lids, I see the last name I expect to hear from.
Nikolai: LJ
Nikolai: I know we haven’t talked in awhile
Nikolai: And that’s my fault
Nikolai: It’s always been my fault
The texts roll in one after another like a stream of consciousness. Each one wakes me up more and more and I sit up in bed, letting the covers fall to my waist.
Nikolai: I just wanted to tell you I’m sorry
Nikolai: I don’t think I ever told you that before
Nikolai: And I don’t expect you to forgive me
Nikolai: But I just thought you should know
Where is this coming from? And why is this apology coming in during the middle of the night?
I begin to type a response but another string of texts pop through and it sends my stomach dropping to the floor.
Nikolai: You deserve the world LJ
Nikolai: You always have
Nikolai: And I hope you’ve found it with him
Something’s wrong. I flip on the lamp and immediately hit his name. The line rings once, twice, three times. Finally on the fifth ring, he answers, but he doesn’t say anything. Heavy, stuttered breathing sounds through the line.
Almost like he’s…crying.
“Nikolai?”
A beat, and then a faint, “Hi, LJ.” I can hear the watery tears in those two simple words and I immediately start panicking.
“Are you alright? What are you doing up so late?”
“It’s not that late,” he murmurs, and I guess to him, maybe it isn't. I wish I could say I didn’t have news alerts set for anytime something is written about him online, but I do. And I’ve been getting quite the spam notices lately with all of his late night partying adventures.
“Fine, but are you alright?”
My question is met with silence and it does nothing to quell my racing heart. Guilt rises because I should’ve been checking in on him more. We haven’t spoken since about a month after the shooting when I called to see how he and his family were coping. He insisted he was fine and that they were getting by. He sounded upbeat enough on the phone that I accepted his words at face value and wished him the best as the band took their break.
That was five months ago.
Fucking hell.
I get out of bed and start pacing. “Nikolai, talk to me.”
He lets out a shuddering breath and I hear a restrained sob that he quickly tries to muffle. But he didn’t hide it fast enough.
“Where are you? Are you at home?” I switch my phone to speaker and pull up my brother’s contact. I feel helpless all the way across the country right now and that I can’t get to him. But alarms ring in my head and I know, I just know , that someone needs to get to him right now.
“Yeah,” he whispers, “I’m home.”
“Didn’t feel like going out tonight?” I ask, trying to keep the conversation going. I go to text Walker but then I notice his location. Fuck. I forgot he’s visiting our parents right now. He’s closer to me than he is to Nikolai.
I don’t even bother trying to text Hayden. While he knows better than any of us what Nikolai is struggling with right now, he’s barely responding to anyone. So I pull up the next person I can think of and hope to God he’s in LA still because the fucker hid his location from me.
Me: Are you in LA right now
Me: It’s urgent please
Nikolai gives me a quiet, “No,” while I wait for Reid’s response.
Reid: yeah why?
Me: You need to get over to Nikolai’s right now
Reid: I was just with him a couple hours ago
What the hell?
Me: Did something happen?
Reid: no? what’s going on?
“Are you still there?” I ask Nikolai as the line has grown quiet.
A heavy, exhausted sigh rings through the line and I furiously text Reid.
Me: Just get over there now
Me: I’m on the phone with him and he’s not okay
“I wish I could be there right now, but since I can’t, I texted Reid. I’m going to stay on the phone with you until he comes, okay? He’s going to stay with you.”
“Don’t,” he says through his tears. “I don’t want anyone seeing me like this. I’m sick of feeling like this.”
I fight back my own tears at the hurt in his voice. If I could take every ounce of pain from him right now and put it on my own shoulders, I would. To hear the one you love in so much pain is worse than feeling it yourself.
“I know, babe, I know,” I whisper, the words fighting past the lump in my throat. “But it won’t always be like this. You’re so strong, you’re stronger than anyone I know.”
He laughs humorlessly. “It doesn’t feel like it.”
“It doesn’t matter if it doesn’t feel like it. It’s still true. How’s Milo? Is he going to come out and visit sometime soon?” I try distracting him by switching the conversation to his brother, but it’s like he doesn’t register what I’m saying.
“It was good to hear your voice, LJ,” he says, his voice sounding lost and distant. “I’ve missed it.”
And with that, the line goes dead.
“Nikolai?” I cry out, even though I know the call has dropped. I frantically click on his name again but the call goes straight to voicemail. Hanging up, I call Reid, who answers almost immediately.
“Are you on your way? Please, Reid, I’m not fucking around.” The tears and panic I’ve been fighting back for Nikolai’s sake come rushing to the forefront and I can’t hide them anymore.
“Yeah, I’m a couple minutes away,” he says. “What’s going on?”
“I don’t know,” I pace the room, pulling at my hair. “He texted me out of nowhere apologizing and saying it was always his fault. I called him and he’s crying and—” I choke on a sob and clutch my hand against my chest as if that will help the ripping sensation. “Reid, he’s not okay. Please, just get there,” I plead.
“Fuck,” he curses. “I’m on my way. I promise.” His car engine revs in the background. “I was just with him and he seemed fine.”
But that’s the problem, isn’t it? Nikolai always seems fine.