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.