hold me, love me, touch me, help me

oh, ‘cause i keep digging myself down deeper i won’t stop ‘til i get where you are i keep running, i keep running, i keep running

they say don’t open old wounds but this is still brand new and all the flames you said you ran through you got a little more to prove one day i’ll give you my heart when it’s not in two they say don’t open old wounds but i’m going to

right from the start i knew you’d set a fire in me that i’d rather be sad with you than anywhere away from you

cinnamon in my teeth from your kiss, you’re touching me all the pills that you take violet, blue, green, red to keep me at arm’s length don’t work you try to push me out, but i just find my way back in violet, blue, green, red to keep me out, i win

there’s things i wanna say to you,  but i’ll just let you live like if you hold me without hurting me, you’ll be the first who ever did

there’s things i wanna talk about,  but better not to give but if you hold me without hurting me, you’ll be the first who ever did

Over the past few months, particularly at the very beginning of the year, the artist had creaved herself off the outside world - no longer able to shroud behind hospital walls and a fabricated, jovial demeanor, she had relapsed into sheer isolation and endless violence as a way to cope with her pain, too clueless back then, bearing a massive grin but vacant in both eyes. Lately, she’d been able to pick herself up, though - to let people in, to heal, and to allow others to help her instead of shoving them away. She’d been attempting to reconnect when she could, it was a gradual process, but mending together fractured rubbles would always take time. Pepper was one of the first people she wanted to catch up to, the girl whom she’d trusted with her whole heart, whom she’d shared ridiculous stories and small pieces of overly-sweet Zebra cakes with back at the hospital, the one whom she’d always wanted to see prosper despite her demons. “You should. They miss you, you know. Like, they love Cy’s fucking annoying ass, but they want to see you play again, too. Tried teaching them guitar once, almost broke the thing. I am not the most musicially-gifted one in the club here. I - uh, Pepper?” Months, or years ago, she would’ve stiffened at the hug- and she still did, but this time, instead of pulling away, she turned around and enveloped her in a full embrace, attempting to at least mimic her girlfriend’s hug whenever they greeted one another and wanting to finally give Pepper her entire affection. “Missed you, Pep, you fucking nugget.” So this was how warm Pepper felt. Placing hands on shoulders, she leaned back, an awkward chuckle leaving her lips. “Yeah. Sam’s, uh, been gaining more confidence lately - which is good. I think school’s been helping become a little more bold. She still wants to play with you. I think.” She dropped her hands then, not wanting to overdo it - for Pepper’s and her own comfort. “Let me know if you decide to visit the shack again. There’s someone I’ve been wanting to introduce to you. You might have seen her a couple of times, though.”

Pepper hadn’t had the chance to spend much time with Heather lately, between both of them working and having separate responsibilities and schedules, but she’d been watching over social media, trying to keep up via Instagram posts and texting. She could tell she’d been on an upward incline, though, and she was glad to see her doing well, finally seeming to reap the benefits of all her work, back in the hospital and outside. It was a little weird to hear that the kids missed her. She’d never seen herself as much of a child-oriented person, someone kids would be drawn to, or even a good influence. But when she thought about the kind of people she’d looked up to for years, the rebels, the angsty punks and emos, it made a weird, nostalgic sort of sense. “That’s cute. Maybe I could give ‘em, like, temporary tattoos or something, too. Enhance my coolness.” The way she said her name, seemed to hesitate at first in response to her hug, reminded her of how she’d pulled away in the past, one time resonating clearly. I’m injured, Pepper, could you-- but then she was pulling her in, hugging her back with more conviction than she ever had. She exhaled slightly, taking a moment to rest her chin on her shoulder. This was kind of comfort, closeness, was what she’d always felt at the root of her relationship with Heather-- the simple manifestation of that in a finally complete hug was even more rewarding than she could’ve anticipated. “I-- missed you, too.” She nodded with a small smile. “Yeah, that’s-- always nice. I was hoping she’d kinda come out of her shell at some point. At least a little. I’m totally down for that.” She was intrigued, if a little nervous, by her invitation. “Yeah, I-- I will. Don’t wanna let the Golden Nugget Fans down. Who’s that?”

“I know, gettin’ drunk at a festival is usually a shit idea. I see so many fuckin’ people that had been wasted for seventy-two hours straight at some festivals,” he chuckled, crossing one leg over the other and leaning against the wall. Despite the year of binge-drinking at parties he had partaken in, he acknowledged that drinking heavily in humid conditions or multiple days in a row would be unwise for his heart. USB vape managed to draw a snort from him, smirk transforming to a genuine smile in ten seconds or less, saying softly, “You did great. Your singin’ is phenomenal, the crowd was vibin’ with your shit.” Patting her on the shoulder would have seemed condescending in his perspective, settling to slide his free hand into the pocket of his leather pants that laced up on the sides. Corners of his eyes wrinkling with his laughter when she revealed the backpack to him, Cyrek shook his head, replying, “Nah, I shouldn’t anyway, my kid is over there–” Tipping his water bottle in the direction of the bonfire, he paused when he realized what he had said, boggled by the revelation momentarily. “Well… a kid. Foster kiddo. Not my child– you know what, you get my fuckin’ point– we’re adoptin’, maybe.”

“Oof. That sounds like a lot of puking in port-a-potties. And a big fucking headache. Gotta love combining impending hangovers and heat exhaustion. I’m not a fan of being drunk anyway, so-- that sounds like a good way to ruin a concert or festival, to me.” Pepper hadn’t been intoxicated in over three years now, not counting her NyQuil habit that’d hung around a while after that. She’d been more drawn to other vices, most of which she was continually trying to resist. She smiled at the extension of the compliment, refraining from shrugging or shaking her head. “Well, thanks. That’s, uh-- hella flattering. I swear, Lana always works, especially when your audience is gay.” She slung her backpack over one shoulder and raised her eyebrows at his next words. “Your kid-- oh damn. That’s good.” She still wasn’t sure she’d ever want children, or that Gina would, but the ones from the art shack always tugged on her heartstrings a little, certainly more than random kids or babies in public. “I feel like I’d have to make some major alterations to myself if I was gonna be a major role model.”

honesty hour.