More Than You Will Never Know


Dear April,

It's really funny. I never thought that I'd be on the receiving end of this phenomena. It's something we've talked about quite frequently. The phenomena of fame and celebrity. I lived it while you watched it, so we had well-rounded opinions about it, but as you said, I would never truly understand. I'd never understand what it was like to want something so bad that was so unreachable.

Then I met you. Now I understand.

I never thought I'd be the one writing a fan letter to a star, hoping that with that one stroke of luck, among those boundless letters a star gets, that mine will win the prize and be read, cherished, and reciprocated.

I never thought that I'd be hoping my wish upon a star would be the one to come true.

Over the years, I've received millions and millions of fan letters across the world over and always wished I had time to look through the letters. As you know, there was no time. For anything. Life was moving way too fast. Now that I have settled and the circus that was once my life is over, I thought I'd want to look through the letters.

But all they do is bring tears to my eyes for they remind me of those magical glory days They didn't feel real then and they don't feel real now. Had it all happened? Even as I had lived it, I'd wondered if I was still alive. If this was all a dream…

Then you came in and made things feel real again. It's been a couple of years since we talked. I saw you on TV. How are you doing over on your side? It's so funny. How things turned out.

I am now the watcher while you live out your dream…

It is interesting watching you from afar. I mean, I always did. We were never allowed to be close too often. And even when we had a chance, you were hard pressed to allow it. But when you did, I was always in an indescribable form of heaven that no one else could ever make me feel.

As I watched you now on the TV, on the outside looking in, I can't help but think of how, quite honestly, I hate you so much.

I hate everything you stand for. I hate the fact that when you smile, your eyes crinkle at the corners. I hate your smile even more for the fact that seeing it is as rare an occurrence as seeing a Halleys comet. I remember there was a time when it was so hard to get you to smile. It was just a matter of saying the right thing at the right time, and being at the right place at the right time.

Then when I finally figured out what made you smile, I tried to do it all the time because your smiled gave me so much life and happiness. Even rivaling all the joy fame and fortune had brought me.

And you know why I hate you for all this? Because I love you. I loved you very much. I love you still, to the point of a madness I'm sure will fully claim me one day, if it hasn't already. And I am pretty sure I will always love you in some way. Even years from now, when I have finally found 'the one' and I am sitting in my rocking chair surrounded by my grandchildren, I am sure you will still cross my mind and I will still have a little bit of love for you left. That is why I hate you. You made your mark on me and no one will ever be able to compare. You were different because you didn't smile a lot, and neither did you let me see your tears as frequently. Yet I am surrounded by constant smiles and tears. There is no mystery around me.

Everyone is willing to give so much because they want something in return. They claim that they want me. And in my twisted desire for you, I yearned for your rejection. I yearned for that mystery that follows you like a shadow. I wanted you because you didn't want me--or in your words 'pretended not to'.

Nonetheless I wanted it all from you because you were not willing to give me everything at the drop of a hat. You weren't even consciously trying to make me earn it. You were just very selective about who you let into your chamber of secrets. As someone not used to being shunned, I had to find a way to unlock you. To break you. I had to find a way into your exclusive world and that was one of my many weaknesses--wanting to be loved and accepted by all…even by what was deemed 'unnatural' or 'different'.

Through you, I learned that different isn't always good. There is a reason why, unlike me, no one surrounded you. No one gravitated towards you. There is a reason why people were repelled by you. There is a reason why, unlike me, others chose not to see the beauty in you. Instead of moving closer to this unusual light that you were, they went the other way. Because they are wiser. They knew what your oddity would bring. Too much change. And too much change breeds fear.

They knew that, just like the sun, you could wreck havoc if one got too close.

I dared to be different. I dared to go where no other man had gone. I dared to be burned without even realizing it. I am paying the price for my attempt at bravery into roads less traveled.

And here I am, a man worn by that thing called love that I once believed in so fiercely until you fell into my lap. Actually, I hate being honest about this but, it was I who pulled you into my world. I begged you to accept me when you warned me that you were trouble.

I believed I could change you because I believed so much in love then. Now I know better.

So this is my letter to you. My first fan mail. And my last message to you. Now I know what it is to be on the other side. To be a fan. Unable to reach something that seems and feels so real, but really is really just a mirage and so far away.

And before I end this, I must ask even despite the feelings of embarrassment and shame these questions bring me but...

Did you ever truly love me? Did you care? I hear the words 'I love you' over and over, constantly. Yet I had to glean those words out of you. It was like pulling teeth. But because you rarely said them, when you did say them, it was like seeing the sun for the first time.

Every.

Single.

Time.

I listened to every syllable, recorded the intonation in your voice, catalogued the look on your face whenever you said those words because they were so few and far between I would have to rely on the memory of them just to know what it was to hear those words from you. Because their rarity made me believe that they were only said when you truly meant them. So I believed in that honesty. I had to, because my world was filled with too many careless 'i love yous' for me to count or keep up with.

So I chose to keep up with yours. And that had to be one of the biggest mistakes I'd ever made in my life.

I have absorbed everything that was you and I now have become like you. Broken. Tattered. Afraid to love and afraid to live.

Numb.

You are now a part of me. Forever.

And for that...

I hate you.

I miss you.

I fucking hate you.

But I love you so much more.

More than anything else I have ever loved.

More than you will never know.

Yours always,

Ben Walker.

Chapter 1


July 7th, 2013.



Something made me look up to see a flock of birds gracing the perfectly blue sky in harmony. It was a bright and sunny afternoon, where all the stars were aligned, everything went without a hitch, and it was those kinds of afternoons that make you feel lucky to be alive. Eying the birds, I wondered for a random, brief moment what they sounded like and for a second realized that it had been a long time since I'd had the peaceful environment to sit back, relax, and just look up at the sky listening to them.

I couldn't hear them now, and was jostled forward by our team, or rather, a village. That's what it took to make this thing work. Hair stylist on deck to make sure we still looked okay, personal assistant to remind us for the umpteenth time that day's schedule, and manager somewhere in the back to keep us in check.

My name is Ben Walker, and my life was not ordinary, at least that's what most people told me. And I'd been told many things about my life. See, people loved to analyze my life a lot. I guess because it was 'unusual'. I was a 'rarity'.

I'd been called lucky. I'd been told the life I led was charmed.

I'd been told that I won the lottery.

I was a celebrity in the age of celebrity worship.

But with great worship comes great disdain.

Not all their opinions of my life were positive. I was also reminded how undeserving I was. Even described as an entitled bastard. And the one that cut the most: untalented.

It was one thing to say that I didn't deserve all the fame and fortune I'd attained. I could easily disproof that: I'd worked my but off, having not had longer than a four days off for the last three years. My team and I worked harder than anyone we knew, so if anyone tried to contest that, I was confident in the truth of my hard work.

What got to me was when I was branded untalented. While I knew that yes, that was subjective, as a people pleaser, it was hard for me to accept someone's dislike of me. Every time I thought I was getting better at not caring about outsiders' validation, an incident would occur to harshly remind me that I was worse off than before.

And generally, it was easier to believe a negative than it was a positive.

Another thing I hated was to be called rude, which wasn't common when people talked about me, but people believed that more than what went around that I was a 'nice guy'. But being labeled a nice guy had its cons too, because many people at times branded you a 'try hard' or 'fake'. I was also labeled a man whore, which I never thought would bother me as much as it did once it began.

All of these assumptions swirled around the image that was created by this funny thing called fame.

I was standing about with my group members as we were told where to position ourselves. I was in a group called A-Live--I know that was not as creative but it stuck and was now a household name in Hollywood. While all the fans were screaming at us, there was no denying whose name was being screamed out the most.

Why this felt a bit different though was in addition to the fans' screams were the press calling out my name instead of the group name. This had never happened before and it filled me with discomfort...and an underlying feeling of accomplishment that I swear I tried to control but I couldn't.

It was like a demon that lived inside of me.

I'd be lying if I said deep down inside it didn't make me feel good to be a fan favorite. I couldn't deny that, as awful as it was. But I would never admit it to anyone, and any time I admitted it to myself, I'd push the thought far away and force myself to be humble with the reminder that a fan's adoration and fame were both fleeting things.

Suddenly, our private assistant began pulling me away from the group.

"You're wanted here."

"No, but--" I began but the screams already loudened when I was away from the group and I looked at them helplessly but didn't have much time to gauge their expressions because the cameras began to flash incessantly, nearly blinding me.

That meant it was game on.

"BEN! THIS WAY! LOOK HERE!!"

This is where the unmatched sensation needles in. Just like a drug rushing through one's veins. I could not help the feeling of greatness that spread through me once the cameras flashed and my name was called.

Although the guilt of leaving my band mates was inside of me, it could not contest this unparalleled feeling.

The feeling of celebrity.

Fame was all about smoke and mirrors. It was all about image. I could not reveal that there was trouble in paradise, and in my mind I made myself believe that there was no trouble in paradise.

So I smirked cockily at the cameras as they blinked from all corners, trying to suppress my swelling ego. This was the life. To be a rock star, revered and hated by many. Right now, all I could feel, hear, and see was unbidden adulation. So words of me being untalented, rude, and undeserving didn't faze me now.

And neither did the guilt…for now.

This is the most attention I'd gotten from the media since we came back out and I knew it was because of a high profile relationship I'd just gotten out of a few weeks ago.

"BEN I LOVE YOU SO MUCH! MARRY ME!!!" Someone screamed from a distance and I grinned, creating a wave of even more screams.

My personal assistant ushered me further along the crimson red carpet to a waiting reporter. The microphone they held had the logo of a major media outlet, so I knew it was time to put my PR training on. And I had mastered it enough to know how to make it all look natural.

I was a pro at this game.

"Hello, there. How are you? Jamie, right?" I shook the heavyset woman's hand and always reveled in the surprise of the interviewers I did this with. I'd garnered a good reputation of shaking the hand of most crew members I met wherever we went. It added to my humility and my down to earth nature: something a celebrity needed to have to stay likable.

This, among many other aspects of my nature, made me a media darling.

"Wow! I can't believe that you remembered me!" She was genuinely stunned and I enjoyed every minute of it.

"How could I forget? You look lovely today," I said admiringly as I slid my eyes down her full-figure back to her pretty face and watched her cheeks turn pink.

This was so fucking easy. I knew deep down I could have her for the night if at the snap of a finger, but not enough time. And I had other conquests in mind but no one would ever know.

My brother Henry loved to dub me a cheeky, crafty bastard.

"Okay, loverboy. That's enough," My assistant, Shirley Kingston, nudged from behind me.

"Did you have any questions for him today?" Shirley asked her impatiently. Her wavy dark brown hair framed her oval-shaped face. Grey eyes sat behind her red specks and her firmly set lips were tinged in pink lipstick that day. If it was up to me I'd have grabbed her and kissed her for being so fucking sexy but Shirley was one of the 'look but don't touch' types.

She was a bit on the heavy side, but that had never stopped me from ogling her despite smaller women being more of my time. Shirley had the kind of confidence to challenge an entire nation and that always made me weak in the knees. There was something quietly sexy about her that always made me want her. I'd had a crush on her for the longest because she wasn't easy. Shirley had come on board about a year ago. Initially, I didn't like her too much because she was far too serious.

I couldn't stand people who took themselves too seriously, but as time drew on, I grew to appreciate her extreme professionalism. Honestly, the bigger we got, the more responsibilities we had and she helped keep all of us in check. She was another conquest I had tried but failed at miserably. Every single time.

She was here strictly for business even though I knew that deep down her heart of stone had melted for me. But that's because I'd fought to get her to soften up to me.

No woman was unattainable if you tried hard enough. I had never met a woman who didn't eventually say yes to me. The road to snag her up may not always be the same, but there was always a way to get there.

Mark my workds.

I knew now that Shirley had some kind of feelings for me, try as she might to deny it, but my attention and hunger to sac her was long gone. I was already on to the next.

I got bored easily.

And I found that the chase was far more thrilling than the catch.

I liked the challenge.

She detested me for it silently, the fact that I had made her fall for me without fully reciprocating her feelings, but she would never outwardly tell me and I would never press the issue.

"Could you hurry it up?" Shirley pressed Jamie.

Flustered, Jamie stuttered, the first few questions before wearing her professional hat and carrying on normally.

I got through the questions smoothly, sidestepping the prying into my personal life with the craftiness of a fox.

Finally my mini-solo interview was complete and I was led into the building of the prestigious Ova theater, fans screaming because for most of them this was the closest they'd ever get to me. I wished I could hug and thank all of them for what they'd done.

"Aye mates, sorry about that," I said awkwardly now that I was among my band mates. Things never used to be this awkward. They really had no reaction to what I said, and I had no time to pay it any mind. It was show time and in no time we were seated in the theater, lost in the craze of Hollywood award shows.

Ultimately, we ended up having so much fun at the show, but that didn't mean things went perfectly. We won song of the year, a fan voted award, and were booed to the high heavens.

This was the deal: we were seen as a bubble gum pop group despite the fact that our music leaned more towards pop rock. The reason why we were hated by the majority is because, I guess we had just become too big for anyone's good. We were too 'lucky' to be here. We weren't 'good' and just a 'fad' according to many people. We were not musical prodigies, and it had taken each of us a while to find our niche in music. We didn't play instruments initially when we first debut, because truthfully our success was somewhat accidental.

We never proclaimed to be experts in music or showmanship, and I think people hated the fact that because we didn't take ourselves too seriously, we still had a massive fan base.

In fact, an article just came out a few days ago that the tour we had this past year was one of the highest grossing…of all time. 

Life was treating us pretty well, and some people hated our guts for it. My band mates all said their thank yous, and it was finally my turn. The cheers and the boos greatened. Before this would have made me want to hide and cry.

All I could do was smile as I soaked it all up.

"I just want to thank--"

I had to stop myself because the cheers got even louder. I laughed as I stood back, seeing that my band mate Jacob laughing along with me.

They were screaming because of my speaking voice. Us Walker men were said to have signature deep voices that apparently drove women crazy.

"Carry on, Mate," Daniel said as he patted my back encouragingly. I stepped to the microphone again.

"I want to thank the fans for voting for us." This times I tried to talk over the roaring because it was time to move along to the next portion of the show. "We love you all dearly and you're the only reason why we are up here today." I held up the glass award. "Massive thanks. Love you all."

A deafening round of applause went throughout the entire room, drowning out the boos, and try as I might to deny it, I felt very gratified. I felt accepted.

The cheer of the crowd was when I felt most high.

The night went on pretty smoothly, and was going to my favorite part of these things: after parties.

Award show after parties were always ace. We got to meet celebrities that we'd only seen on our TV and computer screens growing up. Being in the industry so many years, it wasn't too much of a shock to see them anymore, at least for the other members. Admittedly, I loved meeting celebrities. I loved being a part of that circle. The A-list.

I would never admit it to anyone and tried to tell myself I didn't care. But deep down, I did.

I'd played into this celebrity game so much because I simply loved it. I had dated other famous starlets for the sake of increasing my status. 

And I had done it shamelessly well. But what was funny was that even as plotted as those relationships were, the women always fell in love with me. My mother called it the curse of the charm. Even celebrities that had previously shown venomous hate towards my group and I always stated that I 'wasn't so bad after all' after meeting me.

The after party was held in a dimly lit room. As much as my group and I loved one another like brothers, we were all still pretty independent. Not all stayed for the after party and those that did veered in their own directions.

I'd discarded the black blazer I'd been wearing and was walking around in my navy blue shirt, which was buttoned down my chest because of how warm it had become. With a bottled water in hand, I'd miraculously found some alone time to just walk around and browse.

It didn't take long for me to have my eye on my current object of desire: a new actress that had just received an Oscar nomination for a timeless performance in that year's breakout movie. She was gorgeous with dark skin and short hair. She was an unmatched beauty and stood out because she didn't look like the often hailed beauties of Hollywood: the typical blond hair and pale skin.

I surveyed my prey for a few moments like I did all the rest. Men usually approached women without tact and wondered why even the most uncouth man could pick the most beautiful woman in the room. According to me, I was an average joe when it came to looks despite what the magazines and fans said. Jacob in our group was one of the best looking men according to a wide consensus, but I was the one dubbed the most charming.

It's because I watched and learned first before I pounced. A woman appreciated a man who knew more about her than just how tiny her waist was in ratio to her hips. And I could tell a lot about a person just by watching how they carried themselves.

Henry had always told me that was the one of the most important lessons a person could learn: especially in the industry that I was in.

Just as I was about to go move in for the kill, a manly hand slid around her waist and drew her close. My eyes narrowed in disappointment, but not for long. Even those brief ten minutes I had to myself were a miracle to come by. I was already swamped by some seasoned celebrity, asking me to take part in something they were doing because we were the hottest now. Everyone wanted us, especially me, on everything.

We took pictures that would be all over the internet in a matter of minutes I was sure.

It was all about being seen. Always being seen.

And as much as I loved it, it could be a bit taxing.

I wanted some more time alone. After doing shows back to back this after party was our chance to get a semblance of a breather but even these appearances had become work. I needed time to think and ruminate over all of our accomplishments and just life in general. I also hadn't had any alone time in a week. We'd stopped by this award show in the middle of our North American tour.

I finally stole some time away by excusing myself to the bathroom. When I was out, I was lucky to find no one within close proximity of me. Our dedicated fans even managed to bypass security at these award shows and found out where we were or where we were going to be, even before we did. It was kind of unnerving to think about at times.

When the coast was clear, I went down the hallway, dodging as many people as I could until I got to the staircase Nate, one of my band mates, had told me about. I walked up the quiet, dimly lit stairs, on my way to a secluded, secret area that Nate discovered at the Ova. I'd been there before and had appreciated the silence. The sanity. There was absolutely no one in this area. No security. No cameras. And no fans. I always came to this place whenever we were here, to get a breather from the craziness of fame and celebrity.

When I opened the door to the top floor I welcomed the cool blast of air and stillness that met met me in contrast to the hot air and frenzied party I'd just left.

Sighing deeply, I stepped out to this secret spot of mine, my sanctuary, the only place I could be myself. I combed my fingers through my hair and held my head for a second.

If I was honest with myself, I didn't like the person I'd become and was becoming. I didn't like how much I needed the attention. How much I survived off of it.

I didn't feel adequate without validation.

I hated myself for it.

But I took these quiet moments to appreciate everything I'd gained. Everything I'd amassed. This life wasn't perfect, but it was far better than any other life I'd have ever imagined living.

I never thought I'd be able to stand on a stage and have a sea of fans waving right to left with me, enjoying the special moment with me. I was blessed. And I was grateful. Anytime I reminded myself of this, a calm and happiness would fill me, and I'd remember all the great memories that had come with this price of fame.

Regardless of everything, I knew that if I died today, I would die happy, for most if not all of my dreams had come to fruition in my 20 short years of life. 

When I opened my eyes again, letting my arms fall heavily to my sides, I walked further ahead so that I could stand on the edge of the building. I'd anticipated watching what I knew would be an amazing panorama of the flickering lights of Hollywood.

Only, what I saw was an image that changed my life.

Just in one quick second, an entire 360 occurred.

I saw you standing at the edge of the tall building, and my eyes widened slowly in realization of what was happening.

The moment I saw you it was like my heart screeched to a halt and stopped. I don't remember breathing after that. Life seemed to have come to a stand still and it was almost like I was no longer alive, having fallen into hell in one fallen swoop.

You saw me and your eyes seemed to mirror mine as the widened in shock before turning into guarded eyes.

"Stay back!" you screamed, your eyes wet, but no tears racing from them.

I didn't really have a chance to take your appearance in or have much of a first impression because I was in too much of shock.

Had I walked on the set of a TV show or movie? I looked around to see if we were the only ones there. There were no lights, camera, or action.

This was real life.

It was just you, me, and the stars in the black sky that night.

This felt like an out of body experience. It's like I'd stepped into another universe in some strange way. How had I come from a life filled with jubilation, excess, celebration, excitement, and brightness to a world of stillness, quietness, eeriness, and darkness.

'Tis the thing about life. We are all one second away from a life-altering experience.

As shock seized me, the reality of the situation began to spread into my mind. You were standing on the edge of the cliff; one step away from ending it all.

My heart seemed to liven up once again after a few moments, thumping violently in my chest. The same adrenaline I'd gotten from being on stage and hearing those screams raced through my veins now. Without thinking, I stepped forward.

The same adrenaline that flushed through my veins when I was heralded a hero for simply being a famous man off of no real merit flushed through me now as I felt my heroics of whether I could save a human life or not.

"Wait! Please!" Desperation reeked from my voice like a man begging for his last breath when faced with the fragility of life.

I had gone from wanting so badly to win an award, just so that we could gain respect and adulation, having never wanted something so bad. And the feeling had returned, only it was compounded with fear and a panicked desperation I had never felt before. Not even when I so desperately wanted to win the singing show position that had given me the blessed life I lived now.

But when I looked at you, I saw that your mind was made up. How was I going to stop you? How had this become the most important goal I'd ever tried to reach to in my 20 years of life?

"I can't wait any longer. I'm tired."

Your voice was the emptiest I'd ever heard.

You seemed so disoriented and distraught. I had never seen the living dead until that night when I met you. Your black hair was wild over your face and around your shoulders.You were bundled in multiple clothes, far too warm for the weather.

"It doesn't have to be this way," I said, not really sure of what I was saying. All I knew then, all I was programmed to feel or think, was that I had to save you. My main goal was to save you.

For your sake. And for mine.

"No situation is permanent," I began to ramble, desperation taking control of me, even forcing me to take another apprehensive step forward. That only seemed to inflict you with more wounds for you balked up, clutched your eyes and held up your hands signaling me to stop.

"Please just stop. Stop," you said weakly.

You had clearly heard all this before.

It made me panic just thinking my words wouldn't be enough to stop you. It was silly of me to compare how easily my fans believed every word that fell from my lips. How many women fell for my lines. I didn't even have to try.

Yet, with you, words did not seem to be enough.

I took a daring step forward hoping you wouldn't step back, and your body tensed even more, your eyes widening with alarm.

"I won't stop unless you stop." I said with so much conviction and another daring step you were not the only one that I shocked. I shocked myself as well.

"If you step closer I'll jump," You warned, finally showing me some kind of emotion: anger and irritation.

I was now only a few feet away from you, give or take three steps. I was standing to your right, and you were looking at me with such distrust. You were shaking despite the fact that it wasn't too cold. Honestly, you looked like a ticking time bomb.

But, something wouldn't allow me to give up.

"Okay. I'll stand here till I die if it means you not jumping. Just please don't jump," I implored quietly, my voice cracking at the knot in my throat.

When I saw that I'd finally gotten a reaction out of you, I continued on relying on the adrenaline swimming within me and took another step, but this made you inch away and a wave of terror went through me. I stared at you wide eyed. Fuck. What if you had taken the step forward and not sideways?

You would be gone by now. I gnawed at my lip, knowing I had bitten more than I could chew. But I'd put myself in this now.

There was no getting out.

"It doesn't have to end this way. Please," I continued, watching as you stared down. I dared not look down. This was a dark section of the building and i knew no one could see us or else something would have been said by now.

Your eyes watered and you broke eye contact, looking down at your hands.

The fact that you were considering my words, the fact that emotion and life began to show on your face was a sign of hope. I'll never forget it. Like a land that had suffered a long drought finally getting its first rain in years, life began to slowly flush into you no matter how sorrowful.

"Come to me," I muttered quietly and your eyes flashed towards me in surprise. And confusion. I held out my hand, hopefully. Desperately.

Confusion clouded your features even more now. You gnawed at your bottom lip and drew your eyebrows together as you averted your gaze between my hand my eyes.

It must have been only seconds but it felt like decades before you finally moved. I held my breath and nearly stepped forward for I thought you were going to jump, but you simply turned to face me.

My heart hammered at my chest, and you didn't see the fear on my face for you could only stare at the hand I had out to you.

But you stalled, as though realizing you were about to make a mistake. To take a step forward or backward. One step back and you'd be gone forever but one step forward and everything would still change.

I hoped you stepped forward.

"Come to me, please."

It was like the chains that were holding you close to the edge of that building broke and you stumbled into me. It was as though you didn't trust yourself, almost like you were running away from yourself when you rushed to me.

Suddenly, you collapsed heavily in my arms, as if unwinding the binds of distrust and letting go of all that weight you carried on your shoulders.

Who knew that the first time I met you was one of the few times you'd let me freely touch you.

I will never forget the feeling of relief that came over me once I had you in my arms.

That was the moment that everything that was once so simple changed.

Forever.

Chapter 2

Horns from LA's endless traffic honked beneath us. City life blared around us. Helicopters and private jets for the a-listers flew above. Fans screamed as celebrities exited the after party.

But nothing had ever felt as quieter as that moment in my life when I had you in my arms. I'd come to love the sound of the city, but that night, everything else seemed more like a distraction.

The only sound I wanted to hear was you breathing.

I needed confirmation that you were still here.

The next several minutes involved me just listening to the thumping in my chest while I held you closer than I could ever remember holding anyone. I had tried to hold on to my fans as tightly as they held on to me, and while I had felt connected to them, there was undeniably always some disconnect. I would never truly know how they felt, but they meant the world to me.

I was holding you though, with as much strength that I could muster, as if trying to keep you in line with this earth. I just felt that you weren't there. You weren't all there. Usually when you detected that someone wasn't all there, the smarted thing to do was to walk or run the other way.

But I…just couldn't.

You cried rakish sobs into my chest, and this was different than the cries I'd seen and heard earlier on the red carpet. It wasn't what I was used to. You weren't crying because of me or my fame or who I was or what I meant to you. Your frustrations, your fears, whatever pain that was encased in you, were soaking my designer shirt. A shirt that hours ago meant prestige in the fashion world but now with your tears on them felt so…materialistic. It was stripped of the 'idea' of its designer name with you in my arms. It was just a shirt soaked in tears now. 

The untold painful story of a nameless girl now doused my shirt.

But it became more than just a shirt. It became a shirt that held tears of sorrow and despair.

I would never look at this designer shirt the same way again for the rest of my life. And to think, it would become something I could never get away from because all you would need to do was a google search on my name and a picture of me on this night would pop up among the many others.

This shirt no longer bespoke the heights of fame and the upper echelon of society I'd reached.

This shirt became about you, and that is the only way I could associate this shirt for as long as I lived.

This shirt now reminded me of the day that I met you.

"It's okay." I held on tighter, surprised by the relief cocooning me as I safely tucked your head under my chin.

I felt safe now that you were with me. I felt safe because you were no longer standing on the edge of a cliff, standing between life and death. The thought alone sent an uncomfortable shiver down my spine.

I had never felt so alive as then, when I had you wrapped safely in my arms. Nothing else would ever compare to this feeling.

We had heard of fans saying that their lives turned from darkness to light

"I'm here," I assured you.

My words seemed to make you stiffen and I feared I had lost you again. So I held on tighter and buried my lips in the crown of your head. Losing you had now become the scariest thing I'd ever experienced.

And it was so strange, the soft, strawberry scent of your hair was unexpected. To be honest, I'd expected a rancid, unbecoming scent because you appeared so disheveled, like you hadn't taken care of yourself in days. The soft scent made you seem so feminine, whatever the hell that meant, and so real and so of this world. And it shocked my system as I realized then that I already saw you as a symbol of uncertainty, of the mysterious…of death, as if I expected you to reek of decomposition and the unattended. That shook me clear to my soul and I had to stop myself from letting the thought fully develop in my mind.

But for the life of me, I couldn't shake the look of lifelessness in your eyes.

"Please. Let go," you chocked, pushing weakly at my chest. I didn't trust you enough to let go, so when we pulled back, I still kept my hands on your arms. Then in a panic, I took your hand and led us further away from the edge.

You followed, but I felt the strain in your hand as you tried to pull away. I held on tighter. That one time, I was glad that you were too weak to fight.

Once we were at a distance I felt was safe, I didn't let go of your hand and you looked at our joining hands confusedly. You tried to tag away, my pale hand gripping onto your tanner fingers and keeping you at bay.

Most people notice how different they are by how they look or their backgrounds. I noticed it by the differences of strength in our fingers. My grip was strong and yours…lifeless. We both looked up at one another, and the confusion in your dark eyes was confusing. You looked away, annoyance filling your eyes as you lowered them further.

"Please don't tell anyone," you said quietly, your voice thick with tears. What surprised me wasn't your question but my considering your question. How could I not report this? I wasn't professionally equipped to handle something this enormous on my own. You clearly needed medical attention. No offense, but you were fucking mental.

So why was I even considering this?

Because of the plea in your eyes. The pain. And most of all, the fear. It had been so long since I'd seen fear so strong it was palpable. The fear I normally saw was from fans who truly believed I was this larger than life character that they couldn't believe they were meeting in real time. While that kind of fear sometimes made me feel strange, I would admittedly sometimes take advantage of the situation and gloat in that fear. It made me feel important, superior, and more amazing than I really was.

That fear from the fans made me feel...larger than life…a very superficial, fleeting, and fake feeling that I shouldn't have basked in but did anyway because I knew deep down inside, it wouldn't last forever. And because, even as quickly as that feeling evaporated, it was all-encompassing and powerful when it was available.

But the fear in your eyes was almost too painful to look at because it was something that I couldn't control. One thing that I hated to admit that was easy to do was controlling my fans to a certain extent. Some of their every desires was to please me and meet my needs, so they would do as I said. I could easily take control of the situation with a fan that was fearful in my presence.

I couldn't take control of a fear where the situation was bigger than me.  I couldn't understand it. In your eyes was a mystery to a story that had so many unreadable chapters, like chapters that had been ripped apart from fear and anger. One would have to piece them together to try and begin understanding who you were.

I should have turned away. The good Lord knew that I should have, but I never liked leaving anyone alone when I knew they were alone.

I wanted to piece your story together so that you wouldn't feel so alone, which you obviously felt.

You looked lost and confused but mostly afraid. Fuck. I knew. I always knew that I should have given in and just looked away, for there was nothing I could do.

I always wanted to be the hero because this situation was too real, far too enormous for my simplicity to handle. But I couldn't walk away. For some bloody reason, I couldn't.

Was this what fate was? Us doing things that we knew we shouldn't have, things that changed everything? Things that, if we didn't do, would have our lives looking completely different than what they did?

I felt a huge responsibility weighing on me. God, I wish I was like Zack, he would have raced out the moment he saw you on the edge. Phil would have saved her but he would have called for help. Danny would have done the same thing as well as Sam.

But me? I had to be the help. I had to get involved. Always wanting to be everyone's hero.

"I promise I won't do it again," you stuttered, avoiding eye contact and wresting your hand until I finally let go and released you. Even now letting go of you seemed like such a bad idea. I had such a bad headache.

"How do I know that?" I asked irritably.

This was odd. I sounded so distrustful and even a trifle betrayed, and I was talking to a complete stranger. You glared at me, your expression offended. It's almost like you were irritated with me for expecting so much from you, but how dare you? It went both ways. How could you expect so much from me? If I didn't tell, and you were a stranger, how was I to know you wouldn't jump once I turned my back? If I did tell, I felt I'd lose your trust and betray you but…wasn't you getting the help you needed more important? It was. I knew it was. Trust me, I knew, but I felt backed into a corner. I'd been ensnared into your dark, all-consuming world the moment I yanked you off the edge.

Our worlds had collided.

"I won't," you said and I pursed my lips irritably, unconvinced.

"I promise," you stressed.

"How do I know?" I repeated. You looked about in consternation, your brow furrowed as you wrung your fingers nervously, trying to find the words.

"You just have to trust me."

The irony that fell upon us was so palpable I couldn't withhold my thoughts over the situation.

"I don't know you."

You looked very vexed but that was the least bit of my problems right now. What the fuck had I just gotten myself into?

"Which is why I don't know why you stopped me," you murmured, your voice trembling.

"You could have still jumped if you really wanted to."

I was surprised by the words that flew out of my mouth and you were too.

"If you for one second think I was doing this for attention, you're wrong. I really wanted to and I'll do it ag--"

"Case and point."

Silence befell us, and you looked away in embarrassment. I realized then that my eyebrows were drawn together in frustration.

"I can't go to those places. I know what they do--" she got really tearful again and seemed to weak in every limb.

"Stop."

"You don't know what it's like in there."

"Why did you want to jump? Why would you do that?"

"Don't you know you're beautiful and you do have a purpose--"

"Spare me. I know the speech. I also have worth and a bright future as well, correct?"

For some reason, out of all times, that was the time I realized how special and unique you were. I'd never be able to explain it, but that was when I knew. I would have cracked a smile and shook my head if the situation wasn't so dire.

"Yes you do. So why would you jump?" I pressed and you looked away irritably. I looked at the time on my phone. I had a bunch of texts and even missed calls asking where I was. I kept it on silent when going to the party seeing it as no use due to the loud music that was there.

I could be enjoying an after party with the biggest names in music yet I was there with you. And as disconcerting as all of this was, there was nowhere else that I would have rather been.

If that meant saving you.

"Either you tell me or I'm telling."

When I looked your way, you were eying my phone in trepidation, not knowing I was only glancing at it for the time but not to tattle. Either way, it worked, because you gave me a response.

"I'm tired," you finally said, your voice empty. That could have meant so many things.

"Of what?"

Your eyes roved over mine, one of the few times you'd actually look me in the eye. I knew the look, because I had learned to give others that look. You were assessing me to see if I could be trusted. I suppose you had no choice, lest I tell.

You finally looked away with a huge sigh.

"Everything." You rolled your eyes at yourself. "Yes, I get it. I'm not as strong as the rest of you to deal with this."

You suddenly walked towards the edge of the building and my entire body tensed. I nearly leaped to your rescue when I saw you sitting on the edge of

When you sat down on the edge of the very building that you were about

"I didn't say that. You made the choice not to jump when you saw me. You could have still jumped but you didn't. So you're strong enough."

Your eyes welled with tears and emotion began to find its way back to your face. The emotion of sorrow. Your entire body seemed to dissolve, bit by bit, like a block of ice slowly melting.

Was I the reason? I would always wonder.

"He's gone," you finally said, your voice just above a whisper, wavering and weak.

"Who?"

"My brother. He's gone."

You sounded surprised, still in disbelief. I lowered my head with  frown and sighed silently.

"I always knew something was wrong, everyone did," You continued. "but I refused to believe it. I refused to leave him alone out in the cold while everyone judged him, because he was already so alone in the mental and emotional anguish he had experienced all his life. All his life, all he knew was pain and nothing else. But at the same time, I had to keep the family happy…"

Tears began to fall again, but you seemed detached from them, as your voice had reverted to its hollowness with no life in it.

"Just imagine growing up feeling like you were cursed. That no one loved you. No one knew what I had been through other than my twin brother." You looked down, fat tears dropping from your eyes.

"When did he pass away?" I asked sadly, feeling my heart weighed down.

You looked up at me, your expression crippled and even a bit panicked.

"Passed away? He's not dead," you said defensively, almost out of breath, and in a rushed tone. As if realizing how strong your reaction had been, you looked away embarrassedly, murmuring under your breath.

"He's in a mental institution. He just got admitted three nights ago." Your voice was hollow, and the look of disbelief began to grow on your face. I stared in disbelief as well, and a sorrow anchored my feelings lower into the depths of the darkness that was your world.

Such a contradiction to the bright lights of Hollywood flashing around us. T Despite the beautiful panorama before us, you didn't look like you were staring much at anything at all.

Such soulless eyes.

"Just imagine…someone you knew your whole life, someone who walked with you every step of the way and experienced everything you experienced…spiraling into a slow madness right before your eyes. Losing grip with reality because of pain and hardship. Imagine just watching them mentally deteriorate. Just imagine seeing them alive and breathing but not really alive and of this world…"

Your voice cracked and as if all the control you'd tried to harness snapped, you broke down into your hands, your rakish sobs shaking your shoulders. Your whole body. I tried to reach out to you but the pain had reached me and it was so much I felt helpless, because it forced me to reflect upon my own loved ones and the most important people in my life.

It brought back a very painful memory that I had long since buried. I could kind of relate.

"I’m so sorry," I finally said, wishing there was more I could do or say.

"He didn't deserve this! He didn't!" Your hands were balled into fists. "He didn't even get a chance to be happy! Being a prison in your own mental jail." You held your head and winced. "Oh my god. I can't imagine."

"Everyday is a struggle. Every single day. Every single second. And he tried to tell us he was suffering but it's almost like we were all too scared to realize this. I didn't want to believe that mental instability was my brother's fate."

Your voice shook as you sighed. Then a small sign of life hinted at your lips with the faintest of wistful smiles.

"We always said that we'd join show business. We loved music so much.”

The smile faded

"The only person who truly understood me is gone. Forever."

You wiped your eyes and continued.

"At least if he'd passed away, I'd know that he wasn't suffering anymore. Just to know that he is being flushed up with drugs just to numb him. To make him stare blindly at four plain walls, not even the controller of his own thoughts anymore."

Your eyes lowered and your voice was riddled with guilt.

"He got worse after they put him in there. I don't know what meds they put him on. I was the last person he looked at with hope. Now he looks at me like I'm one of everyone else. Like I'm nothing."

My instinct was to call out your name, but I realized I didn't even know your name, yet talking with you, it seemed like I had known you for a lifetime.

"I don't…I can't imagine…I'm sorry…"

I'm not sure how long we sat there, both submerged in our own thoughts but,…together.

It was strange. I don’t know if you felt it too. I wondered if neither of us moved for a long time because even despite the depressing feeling swelling among us, there was an odd sense of peace, quiet, and comfort.

Maybe that is why you suddenly stood up. Or maybe I am making much ado about nothing. But I would learn later that you could not handle peace and quiet for too long at a time.

When you stood up, I was alerted from my deep thoughts. You standing up was going to be something that made me panic, I would soon learn.

"Wait. A-Are you leaving?" I rushed to stand alongside you. I would soon always want to always stand beside you…

"I just had a moment of weakness, but I'm fine. I'm okay now." You began to turn away. "Thank you--"

"Wait!"

I held onto your arm, my voice echoing the quiet rooftop. When you looked at me like I was a nuisance, I looked at you like you were a nuisance. Were you serious? One moment you were spilling your heart out and the next you were just going to walk away like you hadn't just tried to jump off a building.

We both stood there, the outside world piercing into our little bubble as a plane flew up above us. We both glanced at the plane soaring among useeable stars due to LA bright lights.

I looked at you to find that you were still glancing at the plane. There was a wistful look on your face that caught me off guard, but I seemed to have caught it right as it crossed your eyes because it was gone instantly, replaced by longing, then sadness.

As you looked my way, your eyes were unreadable and still wet. And now that the chaos was over, or at least, now that we were standing in the eye of the hurricane, I finally saw you.

You had almond shaped brown eyes and very long lashes, I finally realized. Your face was slightly round and you had high cheek bones, a button nose, and a small chin. Your lips were slightly thin--a straight, emotionless line. Strands of wayward ink black hair had latched onto portions of your tear-stricken cheeks.

LA lights flashed on and off your face. It was cinematic and would forever be seared into my brain as the first time I truthfully saw you. I didn't know that the face in front of me would become so important.

You stared at me expectantly and I stared at you in confusion. I didn't know what to do next. I felt maybe I should just let you go, but didn't want to chance you hurting yourself again.

You were suddenly so very important to me.

"I'm fine. You can let go now…" you said as you slowly tried to pull away from me. I had to act fast, but didn't know the next best course of action.

Why didn't I just let you walk away?

I reached for my pocket and you quickly followed the action, and suddenly your nostrils flared and your shoulders rose and fell as it appeared you were about to panic.

“Please don’t te—“

"I need to give you my phone number. Do you have your phone with you?"

At first, all you did was just stare at me.

"I’ll give you my number and I trust that you'll call or text me tomorrow and the next day and the day after that to prove to me that you're fine and getting the help that you deserve."

You were hesitant and looked about you, shifting your weight from one leg to the other.

"B-But…what if I don't want to call or text you..."

I paused and looked at you like you were crazy. We both shared a look and I waited for you to say that maybe you were joking. I was about to ask you if you were serious then I was about to ask myself if I was serious. What the fuck was I doing?

I decided to just go ahead and do what I should have done in the first place. "Then I guess we're just going to have to tell--"

"Fine. Fine! I have my phone, but it's dead. I have a pen, you can write your number on here if you so desperately have to."

You obligatorily held out your arm to me and looked the other way, your brows drown together as you scowled like a petulant child.

"I only want to make sure you will be okay,” I tried to rationalize, even to myself, as I took the pen from you. I held your wrist and you flinched.

"Why?!" you asked waspishly as you tried to step back. My words seemed to have hurt and even offended you. It seemed I was learning your ways quickly. I held on tighter.

"Because I care."

It was not only so automatic for me to say those words.

It was natural.

To that, you only scoffed, rolling your suddenly glistening eyes as you looked away. I began writing my number on your arm.

"You are such a fame whore,” you murmured under your breath.

I paused and lifted my gaze to you. "Excuse me?"

"You want me to go and tell the world just how amazing you were to have saved a girl from jumping so that the world can hail you a super hero. This is all just PR for you. Well this is my life."

I didn’t even realize then that you may have known who I was, but you were the least bit impressed or star struck. Then again, the situation was much bigger than my celebrity status. And your words were too scathing for me to react to you knowing who I was.

I had been called an attention whore too many times and while I couldn’t deny that there was some truth to it, my feelings were hurt, even though these words were coming from a stranger.

For some reason I expected you to expect so much more from me because...well, I had already put so much emotion into you in such a short time.

I believed deep down I was truly a caring person and always tried to be nice to everyone. Maybe I tried too hard. But I began to get a little bit angry by the accusation, especially since my efforts to help you were being looked at as me doing this for personal gain.

You must have seen how your words affected me, because you broke eye contact shamefully, your taut shoulders slumping as you glanced down at my hand that still held your arm.

"Sorry. You're not a whore. I didn't mean it. You don't have to do all this. I'm fine. Thank you for your help. You see, it is just very hard to trust people in the heart of this city. You know what I mean? It’s such a cage. Everyone here is a beast. This land of stars is a land of narcissist. Everyone just wants to be the greatest. The most revered. I’m wary of everyone in this city. And you should be too.”

Your words gave me pause. They were somewhat unexpectedly poetic and very true.

I had a lot to say, but instead just wrote my number on your forearm.

"Our next show is in a couple of days.” I fished for my phone. “I expect to see you there. What’s your phone number?"

"Are you on crack?!"

"First you call me a fame whore and now you accuse me of being on crack?" I bit my tongue to keep me from saying something else.

“…Sorry...” you said grudgingly as you looked elsewhere.

"Not everyone in Hollywood is a crackhead.” I stepped closer and you inched away. “Promise me."

"Promise you what?!" you asked caustically.

"That you will be there." I didn't know what the hell I was doing, but something told me that I had to be forever attached to you. There was no getting out now.

You looked away. You looked around you, trying to search for an escape. You wrung your hands together restlessly. You looked at the edge of the building. I stepped even closer.

"You owe me that much. Could you at least try?" I found myself pleading impatiently.

"I can't afford a ticket to go to New York from here!" You finally wailed exasperatedly.

"I will have that taken care of. You will give me your contact information and I will handle it from there. I will have a taxi pick you up from where you stay and take you to LAX airport."

It was almost like I wasn’t really the one talking. All I knew was that I had to see you again.

Alive and breathing.

I had to know that you had made it another day.

This was so stupid of me.

You looked at me like your mind was spinning, but mine was spinning as well.

"I can't afford it," you breathed helplessly.

"I said I will take care of it."

You worried your bottom lip. Your forehead wrinkled. Finally you looked up at me, eyes filled with distrust and uncertainty.

"You have to promise me you won't tell what I almost did today. You won’t tell another soul. Then I will come. Please."

I searched your eyes, knowing I was making one of the biggest mistakes in my life.

“I won’t tell if you come.”

“Promise me,” You demanded.

“I promise.” I said without hesitation, looking you squarely in the eye and speaking with as much conviction as I could muster. I was known to be a very loyal person.

You seemed surprised by my readiness to make a promise to you, and gave a jerky nod.

“My number is…” you gave me your number and I saved it in my phone.

“What is your name?”

When you hesitated, I looked up at you.

“A-A-April,” you stuttered. I was a bit surprised for reasons unbeknownst to me.  

“April…” I goaded.  

You gulped hard, nodded and looked the other way. “Coleman. April Coleman.”

“April Coleman…”

I nodded.

“I have to go now,” you said hurriedly and without warning, you started to hurry in the other direction on the roof top, taking me to regions I hadn’t been on this secret hideout.

"Where are you going right now?" I asked, ever concerned, as I pursued you.

"Home,” you finally said.

"Where do you live?" I pressed, hot on your tail.

"On the bad side of town.” You whipped around. “I'll be fine. Thank you so much for all your help. I appreciate it. I don’t know what was wrong with me. I was just in the wrong state of mind. I’m glad you stopped me. Thank you so much."

You went through a door in a heavily shadowed area and I called out to you.

“April!”

Just as I was about to follow you, I heard my name.

“Yo, Ben!”

The fine hairs on the back of my neck spiked and I turned around but didn’t see anyone.

“Ben! Are you there?”

The sound of Nate’s voice finally registered and I moved towards the voice till I saw him standing by the door that I had come from, which was a long ways from where April vanished from me.

“Mate, you okay? Look like you just saw a ghost. We been trying to look for you. You got your phone?”

I recalled the missed calls and messages that I should have responded to, just to appease them.

“Yeah bro, I’m sorry…” I just stood there awkwardly, feeling somewhat petrified. I waited for him to say something, like he’d seen the entire scenario play out.

Nate cocked his head as he walked up to me slowly, “You alright? You seem kind of shaken.”

“I’m good. Just came out here for a breather, but I’m all done.” Turning him around, I looped my arm over his shoulder. “Now where have you been?”

Thanks to Nate’s chilled personality, he let us divert the conversation easily. Even as we talked, my mind was swimming the whole time. I wasn’t really invested in the conversation.

But before we entered the building, I looked over my shoulder, wondering if you were still there and feeling like I’d just committed the biggest crime.

The rest of the night was a blur and I couldn’t focus. I wondered if the rooftop incident had really occurred. I remembered your eyes and the fear in them every time I tried to talk to someone.

Against better judgment, I had a drink to calm me down, even when I wasn’t much of a drinker. I was attempting to forget it all, but I couldn’t. There was a particular model that was interested in me and wouldn’t leave me alone. Under any other circumstances I would have taken her back with me to the hotel, but even that I couldn’t do.

Everything that I normally enjoyed suddenly seemed so wasteful and materialistic and wasteful. I even felt guilty for being around such…excess.

I ended up leaving the after party earlier than I’d planned.

Instead, when I was in the hotel laying in bed, I kept staring at your name on my phone. Because I was slightly inebriated, I texted you.

Ben: Hey April. This is Ben. Let me know when you make it home safe please…

Ben: And please, PLEASE, don’t hurt yourself. You have so much to live for.

Before I knew it I had fallen fast asleep with the passing thought that this characteristic of me was my biggest flaw.

This is the fault of every hero.

Wanting to be everyone’s hero.

And so begins the story of how I met The Writer.