There Is Lying in Your Silence by Saimone

Desolation. Everything was white and cold and unfeeling...

My green eyes stared silently through the one-way observation window, the plexi-glass smooth and cool under my fingertips. The window was unfeeling like everything else around me, separating me from where I wanted to be. Well...the window and a catatonic trance.

I sighed letting my hand trail over the glass, leaving oil smudges in its wake. The door to the room opened and a doctor joined me in the hallway, clip board in hand, intruding on my solitude. He regarded me silently for a moment then stepped away from the open door to move off down the hall. 'This has become routine...' I thought as I approached the abandoned doorway and entered the room without a sound. The silence, too, was also routine.

The room was solid grey-white cinderblock. The ceiling was white, the cold tile floor was white, and the sheets on the grey metal bed were also white. A grey chair sat opposite the bed, the only other piece of furniture in the chamber of a room. Outside, through a small safety-glass window, the sky was a cheerless, flat grey overhung with heavy clouds. Everything was stark, barren. No vibrant color could be found anywhere.

But what would one expect of a mental hospital?

The thudding of my shoes across the tile sounded thunderously loud in the heavily silent room. The room's sole occupant didn't react to my presence, but sat motionless in the middle of the bed. Not a word was spoken, but I was used to this. After a month one could grow used to almost anything.

The still and silent figure blended in with the rest of the surroundings. The unmoving form was clothed in an oversized, stark grey-white, cotton hospital gown. His face and skin were so pale and still, like carved marble. His hair, usually so wavy and wild, was listless and matted. No sound passed through the bloodless and washed out lips and his eyes...his wonderful, vibrant, and lively sparkling blue eyes were dulled, grey, and glassy. He didn't blink, he didn't move, and he didn't stir as I approached the bed.

This, too was routine and I was tired of it.

"Darren..." My deep voice reverberated off of the still and silent walls. Darren remained staring blankly, wordlessly into an unseen distance. "Daz, its Daniel...I've come again to see you like I promised, mate."

As usual, no response. With a sigh, I walked over to the cold, uncomfortable chair and sat down. Darren gave no indication that I was even in the room; my movements meant nothing to him.

"I'm growing real worn with visiting you here..."

His eyes blinked, not in response, but in uncontrollable muscle reaction.

I grimaced. I never had been one to be gifted with words nor did I ever have much to say. Ever the stereotypical strong and silent type; what a laugh... Here, I had to fill the silence with my words both to keep me sane and in hope that Darren could hear some of what I said.

Normally I would sit and speak for a half-hour or so, just filling Darren in on all that he was missing being away from the world. I would be cheerful and calm and every other positive emotion that was the exact opposite of how I was really feeling. Another routine. But I was weary of that, too. I was weary of everything and growing restless to boot. I decided to attempt another tactic: pure, unadulterated honesty.

"They say you've gone stark crazy, you know," I told him. No need to elaborate on the faceless 'they'. Like everything else in a popstar's life, the entire world knew about Darren's breakdown and the entire world had formed the same opinion on the situation. Except for me... "I disagree with that. You've always been mad!"

My laughter at my own joke sounded as forced and humorless as I felt. I sighed again. "Seriously Daz, I know you're not crazy. I think that you just lost yourself somewhere and are too scared or tired to find your way back."

This I knew because Darren would often hide his real self from the rest of the world. He put on his happy Diva face and never let anyone he didn't trust completely, into his life. Sometimes though, he'd get too wrapped up in playing the part that the Diva persona would take over for awhile and it would take quite some doing to get the real Darren back again. Whenever he felt nervous or afraid the mask would slip into place. It was a safety, a sanctuary from the scrutiny of prying eyes.

"The doctors say that life just overwhelmed you and you couldn't cope. You have locked yourself away inside your mind because you can't deal with the world around you..."

Blink.

Life had been rough for him over the past months. The announcement about the breakup of Savage Garden weighted heavily on him. The stress and worry of his solo career had him keyed up and tying himself in knots. The fact that his album, when released, could not nearly measure up to the success we found together made him feel a bit less than adequate. Sure, the fans had been supportive as always, but countless critics raked him over the coals. The media was ruthless...and he had no one that he could really turn to. He didn't come to me or the rest of the group, I can only assume, because part of him felt like he had something to prove. Irrational and ridiculous as that notion was, he kept all of his pain to himself and tried to cope on his own.

I think he would have been all right if he hadn't gotten word that his ex-wife was getting remarried. That was the final blow, the straw that broke the camel's back.

Darren broke, cracked, collapsed, and shut himself into a catatonic state. After the breakdown, he was found and placed in a mental institution in San Francisco. Then it was thought that he would be better off back in Australia around familiar friends and family, so he was carefully transported (like fragile china) to a psychiatric ward in Brisbane. And I, the diligently devoted and hopelessly in love person that I am, spent the past month unfailingly visiting every day.

Each blow to Darren felt like a blow to me, too. I could see what was going on in his life and I knew that he needed someone, but there was nothing I could do at the time to get him to let me in. I was hoping that with more time I would be successful, but time ran out before we both knew it. Now, I was determined to get him back at whatever the price.

"You want to remain lost because being in your own little world is far easier than having to deal with reality, and let me tell you, Dazza, that's fucking unacceptable!"

Silence.

I was beyond frustrated at this point and my tirade was just beginning. "Yeah, so you weren't the solo success you wanted to be! So, the critics were harsh as always! Yes, life had gotten damned rough on you, but that is no reason to hide from everyone. You have friends and family who care so deeply about you, who want to help you, but we can't unless you help yourself!"

I was shaking with tension and anger. Darren was unfazed. Taking a deep breath, I calmed myself before speaking again. I knew that yelling would be the last thing that would break through the walls Darren had erected around himself.

"Darren, has it ever occurred to you that we may need you? That I might need you?" My voice was calmer now, gentle, and I moved from the chair to sit beside him on the bed. The mattress dipped with my added weight, but otherwise Darren was still. "We miss you, you know. You always told me that honesty and trust was so important. Remember? You said you never lied to me and that you would always be there for me whenever I needed you..."

Blink.

I sighed again. "But you're lying now. Your silence, it lies. You're not here, and I do need you!"

My throat was tight and my speech was growing raspy with exertion. This was the longest I'd ever carried on a monologue to Darren, but I had been saving up four weeks of stress and anxiety to be able to say all of this. Swallowing heavily to coat my throat I continued, my voice rough, but soft and close to his ear. "I've realized something very important in these past several weeks and I understand now that I need you more than I ever thought possible... I love you, Darren Hayes. I don't even know if you can hear me making this confession, but I don't care. I. LOVE. YOU. And nothing else matters."

Reaching down I caught one of his pale, still hands in my own and brought it gently to my lips. "I love you," I repeated, my breath ghosting across his skin. "You are all that is important to me and I vow to do everything in my power to bring you back to me."

He blinked again, slowly, but this time his eyes stayed closed. They didn't reopen. I watched intently, breath caught somewhere in my throat, as a single tear managed to slip from under the closed lid and course silently down his alabaster cheek. Then slowly his eyes opened again, glittering with knowledge and unshed tears. It was like a switch had been flipped inside of him, letting the light burn once more in his crystal eyes. They weren't glowing nearly as brightly as they could have been, but it was a start. A really good start.

"...love?..." When he spoke his voice was weak and hardly above a whisper, but it sounded like heaven to me.

"Yes, love. I love you. Always have, and probably always will." The truth was out at last.

He managed to move his body ever so slightly, a small shift, to take a better look at me. I'm sure that love and thankfulness and rapture were all plainly written on my face. He closed his eyes again and gave a tiny, happy sigh as I enclosed him in my arms.

"I love you, too." He breathed against my chest.

I smiled and held him closer to me. "Glad to hear it," I told him, relief flooding my body in a giant wave. "I'm glad to hear you say anything..."

Though that was most likely the understatement of the year, it was true. I was more than glad. With one word, Darren broke the silence that had nearly broken my heart. And together, with love and hope and truth, I knew that we would be okay. Which was another understatement...but that is another story.