Broken

Autor: Katarína Uličná Pondelok, 04 Máj 2009 23:00

Texty sú zverejňované tak, ako boli zaslané autormi a neprešli jazykovou úpravou.

Disclaimer: Keďže postavy z tohto príbehu sú reálni ľudia z hudobnej skupiny Deathstars, nepatria mne, ale patria sami sebe. Nie som s nimi v kontakte. Toto sa nikdy nestalo, všetci sú v skutočnosti živí a zdraví a je to len výplod mojej fantázie.

Broken

Eric always thought that when... if something like that happened, it'd be in slow motion. Just like in the movies, there would be screeching of brakes and people's faces freezing as they'd turn around. Cut. The body would fly up as the car would hit it and then fall down. Cut. A shot on the body on the ground, clean and soft as if there was nothing wrong.

But it was nothing like that. Everything happened insanely fast, just like a blur, and before Eric could even blink, suddenly there was Andreas lying on the ground, horribly motionless and someone was screaming and someone was calling an ambulance. And Andreas wasn't moving at all. And there was a trail of blood leading from Andreas' head.

As if he was dreaming, because this surely couldn't be real, oh God oh God, Eric pushed his way through the crowd gathering around Andreas (because it wasn't Andreas' body, it was Andreas). He sank down on his knees, trembling. The ground was hard and hot, warmed by the sun, the small rocks digging into his knees even through his jeans. He raised his hand, it was shaking visibly, and rested it on Andreas' chest. And he tried not to panic, because Andreas' chest wasn't moving, and oh God, oh God. And there was no heartbeat either, and there should be.

He stroked Andreas' chest, his T-shirt getting stuck to Eric's sweaty palm. “Andy,“ he heard himself whisper, using the nickname he never admitted to, thinking the older would surely find it silly. His head was spinning.

And Andreas, his Andreas didn't say anything and didn't move and swat his hand away and laugh and wink and say “just kidding“. And oh God, oh God. This was so very wrong.

***

The funeral was the most awful thing Eric had ever experienced. He was standing between Jonas and Emil; Jonas was crying silently and making no sounds except for occasional sharp intake of breath; Emil was sobbing quietly and constantly. And Eric hated himself because he didn't cry. Because he couldn't.

He was just staring at the coffin and he couldn't believe that there was, that there should be Andreas inside. He fixed his eyes on the wooden side of the coffin as he tried to ignore Emil's sobs because it annoyed him for some reason. He could hear the priest talking, but the words didn't reach his brain; it felt like the priest was talking some different language Eric never heard of.

And later when the people gathered to give them condolence, Eric accepting it as a robot and feeling like there was no sense in that, a warm hand took his own. And his heart started to beat ten times faster, and he felt like he couldn't breath. And he wanted to scream when he realised it was Emil holding his hand.

***

They were all worried about Eric, he could tell by the way they made sure everyone was with him during the night. It annoyed him, as he lay awake listening to silence, often interrupted by Emil's or Jonas' or Ole's quite murmuring when they had phone calls.

He couldn't sleep. He had sleep troubles even before, but they got better once he started to live with Andreas. The man helped him, made him feel relaxed and safe and he could fall asleep easily. But ever since Andreas wasn't here (and Eric couldn't help but wait for him all the time, simply refusing to accept that Andreas was... should be dead), Eric spent nights staring in the ceiling and hugging Andreas' pillow that still smelled of him and waiting for him. And Andreas never came.

And Eric still didn't cry.

***

It was a whole week after the funeral, when Eric was searching for his favourite T-shirt (he refused to wear black all the time) and he instead found Andreas' favourite T-shirt, the one with leopard print and he thought that Andreas would get angry at him because he was looking for it for ages and it was between Eric's clothes, it suddenly hit him – the whole knowledge that Andreas wasn't gone, that he was dead.

Dead. The four letters echoing in his head as he finally started to sob, desperately, choking on his own tears, releasing everything that was in him. His face was buried in that old T-shirt and he was curled in a tight ball, and sobbing and sobbing, for hours and longer until he fell asleep like that, exhausted.

***

He felt like he was just a ghost then. Or a robot. He got up in the morning, mechanically. He brushed his teeth. Showered. He ate something. He cleaned his apartment. He made coffee for Emil who came to visit him often. He cooked the dinner and then threw it away because he just couldn't eat it. He went to bed. Mechanically, automatically.

The only times when he showed any emotion was when he found something that belonged to Andreas. Silly things – his hairbrush, toothbrush. His shower gel. His perfume. The book Andreas didn't finish reading. His vegetarian food. It always made Eric broke down in tears, sobbing for hours, unless Emil came and comforted him.

***

Two months later Eric picked his guitar for the first time since Andreas... since that happened. He sat on the floor in the empty living room; he was moving from the apartment he shared with Andreas to try and escape the memories. Emil was right when he told Eric to get away from here.

He was almost done. He came to grab the last few things, some clothes and his guitar. The apartment was empty, the furniture was sold, Andreas' things were packed in boxes, already at Emil's place – Eric couldn't just get rid of it all.

He was playing random melodies that came to his mind, trying to get his stifle fingers to cooperate again. Or maybe not so his fingers as his mind. Music, that was something he associated with Andreas. He found it a bit difficult to imagine he was going to play again. Of course he knew the band was over – neither him, nor the other band members thought about getting a new singer. But he knew eventually he'd have to get back to normal life, and his normal life, that was music. Playing.

The melody came without him thinking about it, it felt natural and fitting. Slow, sad. Almost gentle.

He played it to Emil when the older man came to pick him up. They scribbled down the notes. They talked to Jonas who added bass, and Ole who added drums beat. Few days later Emil played a similar melody on piano, and they added it to the song.

They released the song as the last Deathstars song ever. There were no vocals, just the slow, sad melody. All of them cried when they played it, just once, in front of the press. But not for them, they played it for Andreas.

***

That was a turning point. Eric didn't get fine suddenly, oh God, not anywhere near that. But he was getting there. He was starting to get slightly better. Slowly.

And slowly was good; slowly was better than nothing. And Eric would never forget Andreas, but he was learning to live without him. Slowly.