47: She's Gone

***Holden Young***

My eyes were heavy. The knocking on the door pulled me out of my hangover before I even fully opened them. I let out a long, tired sigh. My chest ached. The weight of alcohol mixed with regret left a bitter taste in my mouth.

Another knock came, louder, more impatient. 'Open this shit, Holden.' Cyrus’s voice made my head throb. Damn it, I wasn’t in the mood for this right now.

I got up with difficulty, stumbling over cigarettes and bottles scattered across the floor. The room was disgusting, I admit. Clothes mixed with ashtrays, old food—a reflection of the mess I felt inside.

I turned the doorknob and left the door open. Cyrus walked in, looking around and wrinkling his nose. He raised his right hand to his face, covering it.

'Jesus Christ, Holden!' He kept walking, scanning the room. 'This place looks like a fucking hostage situation,' he said with his usual delicacy.

I thought about saying thank you, but this time I didn’t feel like starting the war of sarcasm and irony that constantly flowed between us. Instead, I threw myself back onto the couch and closed my eyes as my head rested against the upholstery.

'If you came here to play housekeeper, you can leave.'

'You need to take care of yourself, man.' Always so original with his words.

I lazily looked at him before replying without much enthusiasm. 'For my health, or because you need my image intact to keep stuffing your pockets?' I guess I’m not that good at holding my tongue.

He let out a sharp laugh. 'A little bit of both, don’t you think?' Always honest, though.

I let out a bitter chuckle that made my stomach sink. I couldn’t even remember the last time I had eaten. 'Can we get to the point?' I said, feeling my stomach growl.

'I talked to Alissa.'

My body moved before I even wanted it to. I turned toward him, giving my full attention to those few words that stirred something inside me—something I hated.

I immediately started sweating. I hated feeling so anxious about her, but it seemed inevitable.

'And what did you two talk about?' I feigned indifference, though it was impossible for Cyrus not to know how I felt. We were together 24/7—it was unavoidable.

'Nothing major. She’s the one who called, actually. You were asleep.' He said it so casually that I wanted to punch him in the face. 'She wasn’t too happy about you releasing her song, got her ego bruised.'

I figured she wouldn’t like it, but I expected a different reaction than just an angry phone call. I couldn’t say anything, so I let him continue.

'Anyway, after some complaints in that not-so-subtle way of hers, she agreed to sign a deal. So you’re off the hook from a big problem, buddy.'

I stared at the wall in front of me. My mouth was dry, the taste of last night’s cigarettes making me nauseous. 'What do you mean? She just gave up the rights to her song, no fight, no argument, nothing?' I asked, because it still seemed insane to me. Alissa wasn’t that easy. In fact, she wasn’t easy at all.

'That’s right, just like that. It surprised me too, but she just asked for the contract to read.' He continued, still casual. 'She’s giving up the royalties, taking the money, and moving on.'

The laugh that escaped me was dry and short, but it quickly turned into uncontrollable laughter. I couldn’t believe it, because it would be like Alissa abandoning something she loves more than anything: writing her songs.

And I wanted to believe that she still loved me too, that there was an explanation for why she left.

'You’re joking, right?' Cyrus shook his head.

'I wish I was.'

'So she… she really chose this?'

'No one put a gun to her head, I can guarantee that.' Cyrus lit a cigarette and poured himself a drink. He offered me one, but I refused. Nothing would go down easily with that lump in my throat.

My jaw clenched, my fists tightened, and I punched the cushion. 'She didn’t ask about anything? How I’m doing? Didn’t try to talk to me, to find me?'

Cyrus rubbed his forehead, that irritating expression on his face like he didn’t want to get involved. Probably tired of my drama with her.

'Holden, do you think she would have signed if she wanted to talk to you?'

That hit me like a punch to the gut.

'I know you haven’t gotten over her, I know you wanted her here, for her to come back so you two could be together again. But listen, Holden, she hasn’t lifted a finger to be with you. Chloe has been begging for your attention—that girl is literally obsessed with you—and you don’t even notice her. It’s business, but why not do something good for yourself too?'

I wanted to scream that this didn’t make sense. But it did. She never tried to find me. Never explained.

It was over.

Cyrus studied me for a moment, then leaned forward. 'You know, I really thought you were different.'

'What are you talking about?'

'I always knew you were naïve when it came to her, but even I thought she’d hold out a little longer. You know how it is—it’s not easy being in the spotlight, but she didn’t even try.'

The lump in my throat tightened. I wanted to cry, and I felt stupid for admitting it.

'You think I’m an idiot, don’t you?'

'No.' He stood up. 'I think you’re a romantic idiot.'

I stared at him, feeling something break inside me. I grabbed the bottle from the floor and downed the rest of the whiskey.

Cyrus shook his head. 'Don’t do anything stupid, Holden. Remember to hold on to the only thing you have left—your career. Chloe and I are here if you need anything.'

But I was already sinking, and there was no way to stop it. It was the concert incident, Alissa officially leaving me behind, my mind spiraling into more and more tangled thoughts.

And, to be honest?

I couldn’t bring myself to care anymore, because I had lost everything that ever mattered to me.