I should have realised something was wrong from your phone call -- OK calling me at 4am was nothing new, especially given the time differences; but I should have known from the tone of your voice that something wasn't right. Perhaps I might have picked up on it if it wasn't for the 3/4 of a bottle of Jack Daniels I had consumed as a nightcap; ironically because I was missing you so much. But I couldn't tell you that could I -- couldn't tell you that it hurt so much it was like a physical pain, how I longed to be near you again, how I was counting the days until I was due to fly to San Fran to visit you. Oh no, I could never tell you that could I?
Instead I murmured soothing noises in what I hoped were the right places and tried to reassure you that some level of self-doubt was normal, that with two best-selling albums and a sell-out world tour under our belts we must be doing something right. And I really thought that I had succeeded when you eventually hung up with a positive sounding 'Cheers mate, you've really helped me clear my mind.'
I realise now that the self-doubts you were having weren't professional at all but personal and it was me that you were doubting. Doubting that I loved you the way that you loved me, loved me in a way that went beyond best mate, band member, business partner. Was that what you had really rung me up to talk about? To tell me that you were willing to risk everything, the friendship, the band, the public image, all for me -- that I meant that much to you? If only I had told you. Told you that I felt the same way, that being with you consumed my every waking thought, that even five minutes out of your company was five minutes too long let alone five months. If only you had known, if only I had known.
But I know now -- know as I look down at the single sheet of paper in my hand, your spider-like scrawl partly obscured by the tears that I have spilt upon it. One single sheet that tells me all the things you couldn't bring yourself to tell me in life yet somehow you found the courage to tell me in death. That you had loved me from the first moment we met, that thoughts of me were in all our most successful songs -- songs that I thought you had written for your then wife, never seeing what really lay deep within.
With your typical determination you made sure that I was the one who found you. You knew what time my flight was due to land, knew that I would come straight to your apartment, knew I would let myself in when I got no reply from the doorbell. Knew I would discover you lying here on the bed, the sheets stained crimson, soaked with your blood, the blade still in your lifeless hand.
But did you know how much you were part of my life, how we were two halves of the same perfect circle. Yin and Yang. How I can't go on without you? Angels fall without you there and I'm falling. Help me Darren, I'm falling.
Reaching over I gently close your eyes hiding forever from the world those precious blue orbs. Tenderly I kiss your still warm lips.
The razor is already against my wrist as I lay down beside you. Its blade cold and comforting as I softly whisper in your un-hearing ear. 'Hold on my love, I'm coming.'
