Does that work? No.

Especially when I have to look at a little face every day that looks so much like him. And another little face that comes with a wagging tail.

I have a feeling that even if I didn’t have Lyric and Acorn, I’d still be thinking of Blue every day and waiting for our time to come.

After three days of Blue being MIA, my phone rings in the middle of the night, jarring me out of a sound sleep. Before I even answer I know it’s him and I already know he’s going to be a mess.

“Hello?”

“Ladybug, it’s me.” My ear is filled with his deep, scratchy voice. Not his sexy, lemme-drop-my-panties-at-the-sound-of-it voice, but his exhausted, wasted, slurry voice.

I sigh loudly. “What are you doing?”

“I’ve been so messed up, man. I meant to call you but I just couldn’t deal with it.”

“Don’t call me man, please.”

“Sorry.” The sound of him puffing on who-knows-what fills the next few seconds. “I’m sorry, babe. I just—I just I don’t even know. I’ve been so tired and I can’t sleep for shit and my head hurts and I couldn’t find my shirt and I had so much to do but then I just had to just get away from all the noise and all the fucking people just talking and talking and talking and I just wanted to stab my own ears. Do you know what I mean?”

“Not really…”

“I know…because you’re always so good, and you’re so…clear. Ya know?”

I don’t know. I wish I did.

“Blue, I’ve been really worried about you. Do you have any idea how much it upsets me when you just stop calling and emailing and I have no idea what’s going on? You could at least send me an email.”

“I’m sorry. Don’t be mad, okay? I hate when you’re mad.”

“I’m not just mad, I’m hurt and I’m disappointed. And I worry.”

“I am too. About the guy and all that shit… it’s got me all fucked up. It’s like he’s in my life and I’m not even in it.”

Sitting up, I turn on the lamp next to my bed. “Listen to me,” I say softly. “You have nothing to worry about with Josh. He’s just a friend. I’ve never even kissed another man since I met you, and I don’t want to. I only want to be with you.”

“I dunno, babe. I can’t deal with anything. Life. The band. All the fucking clouds. I just wanna sleep and walk and maybe sleepwalk. I want to fly.” He starts to laugh and cough. “I don’t know what the hell I’m saying. I’m thinking of learning a different language. I really just want to learn new words. Better ones than what I’ve got now.”

That sinking feeling of dread starts in my gut, spreads up to my chest and settles as a thick lump in my throat. Every minute of this phone call is slowly eating away at the happiness and hope that I felt for the past month.

“Have you been drinking? Tell the truth, please.”

I hear the clickity clack of his piercing. “Come on….” His voice drips with desperation.

“Just tell me.”

“Yes.”

“What else?” I ask with a shaky voice.

“Piper…” he pleads. “Don’t.”

“Tell me.”

“Everything. All the usual,” he admits. “I didn’t mean to. I just wanted to numb everything out for one night. That’s it. But then I couldn’t sleep and the night just didn’t end.”

“You know you can’t do that,” I say. “You know you can’t stop once you start.”

“I thought I could this time. I really fucking did, babe. But man it just felt so good….”

“Stop it!” I scream. “I don’t want to hear this.” The tears I’ve been trying to hold back spill from my eyes and I hurl one of my pillows across the room in frustration. Waves of nausea quake through me as the reality of it all sinks in. He’s just thrown all his progress away. He ruined his chance of meeting Lyric any time soon. And he’s once again disintegrated the foundation we were building.

“Hey, I’m sorry—”

“You’re not sorry! You keep doing this to yourself, and to me! What’s wrong with you, Blue? Why do you have to destroy everything when it’s finally getting good? You do this every time. Is this some kind of game to you?”

“Games are fun, Piper. This is the furthest thing from fun. What the fuck?”

“I can’t believe you did this again and I fell for all your promises again. I am so stupid!”

“I’ll stop. Okay?” he says with exaggerated optimism. “Give me a week. Two weeks, tops. I’ll be better. I promise.”

“You’re lying! You’ve said this all before. You’re never going to stop.”

“I’m trying. You don’t know what it’s like…to feel like this and not be able to just feel normal. You just don’t fuckin’ get it. You live in your perfect little elf life—”