LoveandLogic
Refugee
Hello there fellow U2 fans. I've only posted on her a few times ((I'm more of a reader than a poster 
)) and I used to write U2 fan-fic on the Where Wild Thoughts Escape, U2fanfiction.net I think it was, I can‘t remember because it‘s been so long since I‘ve written anything related to the band
((I am a Mary-Sue author, we all need some sort of fantasized relief in this dull every day life, right? Lol)) However, after reading Endless Deep by January tonight ((very beautiful story, btw
)), it brought back my desire to write again. I’ve been writing a vampire novel ((not in any way U2 related)) for the last year and a half now and I need a break from it.
This particular story is supposed to be two separate stories but I decided to put them into one. So please, be gentle, and let me know what you think! Thank you!
Adrift-chapter one
Bono,
It’s raining out tonight. In fact, it’s probably one of the hardest rains I’ve seen in New York thus far. When was the last time I’ve done this? Just sitting next to a window, listening to the pitter patter of rain drops and the whoosh of extreme wind, desperately fighting past the heights of the hundreds of skyscrapers. There’s something almost calming and relaxing about rain. Most people despise it, run from it. I can’t bring myself to do such a thing. Besides, how would we get our colorful world if we didn’t have rain?
I’m in my third year of college now, just one more year until I graduate and start a career with Focus Photography International. Have you heard of them? Probably not. They’re not as famous as many of the other photography companies, but four years of college shouldn’t go unfurnished. My mother and step-father worked very hard to put me through college, to provide me with an independent apartment and supplies. It would be extremely selfish of me to become an independent photographer after school, wouldn’t it? And, I’m hoping, that with the tricks and talents I have learned, I can bring something new and fresh to the company that might be able to bring their name to more fame.
Anyways, enough about me. How are you doing? Why do I even bother asking you that? I have lost count to how many letters I have sent you over the last four years, all in which I receive no reply from the other end. Four years and I receive no phone calls or emails or letters. For all I know this address isn’t even right, that maybe you gave me a false address, a false number, a false email. If it wasn’t for Edge and his every-once-in-a-blue-moon letters I would think that my love affair with you never would have happened at all. Why do you choose to be so cruel? Was it something I did? Was it something I said? Once again I laugh at myself, because I’ve been asking these same questions to a piece of paper for far too long.
Now…now I ask myself another question: why don’t I just give up? Why do I sit here, in the same window ledge over looking times square, night after night, after night, writing and thinking and wishing and…remembering? Why even bother with something that so obviously means nothing to you? And yeah, my over abundance of letters is probably creepy, but I’m holding you to your promises, Paul. You said you loved me and like a fool I fell for you, I fell for you harder than rushing rain outside my New York window. You said you would come back to me when the time was right. The time has been right for years. You said you would write me and instead left me with hours of watching the postmen.
I miss your kisses, I miss our long talks. Most of all…I miss you. We never made love and in a way I regret not doing so when I had the chance. Then again, now living with certain circumstances, I’m beginning to think that you never made love to me because you planned this all along.
So what did you want from me, if not sex? What did I have to offer? Our story is something that comes out of a novel. How many times in a lifetime does a tour bus break down in the middle of no where in one of the worst blizzards in Ohio history? How many times in a lifetime does that tour bus hold the most famous band since the Beatles? And please, please, tell me, how many times in a lifetime does one of those band members fall in love with a teenage girl? I never would have believed such a story if I never would have lived it’s many chapters.
When I close my eyes I can almost see the two of us slow dancing in the spare bedroom. I can almost still smell your rich cigars and your even richer musk. On my lips I can still taste your exotic skin. Sometimes when I go back home I can see Edge playing U2 songs on his acoustic, with my family and you singing along. Memories. Nothing but memories that almost didn’t exist. But you…you still exist. I see you everywhere: magazine covers, MTV, on the larger-than-life screens in Times Square.
Four years and nothing. So, without further ado, this will be my last letter to you. I pledge on everything that I am that I will no longer write you or pick up a pen ever again to reveal my soul to a blank piece of parchment. I’m finished, Bono. I should have been finished years ago. I just could never bring myself to let you go. And no, not because you’re Bono, lead singer of a well respected band, but because you were the only man in my life to show me real love, real emotion and a reason to succeed in life. If anything, I thank you for my motivation. I do not thank you for the endless nights of tears or the days that linger on like years. I do not thank you for the enormous empty pit in my poor, aching heart. You were meant to break hearts, and I should have known better than to fall for someone as arrogant as yourself.
I apologize for my sour words. And as sour as they are, they are sweet on my tongue. You deserve every bit of guilt that I pass onto you. You hurt me in more ways imaginable. I allow you to hurt me no longer.
I love you and I will always love you. Love, as it seems, is sometimes never enough. Goodbye, Bono. If we should ever cross paths in this lifetime again, please don’t be distraught if I twist and walk the other way. My new goal for my life is to erase you completely from my memories…from my life.
Please tell the guys that I hold nothing against them. They didn’t break me in two.
-Jessica
“Jess, Jess, wake up!” I was being shook violently, and slowly I drifted out from a dreamless sleep and back to reality. Ah, reality, what a blissful piece of shit. Don’t you ever wish that you could just fall asleep and stay in that immortal state until the day you die?
No, I suppose not. That was very emotionless of me.
“You have an apartment, don’t you ever stay there?” Brooke, my co-worker and best friend, was standing above me, grinning with irritation.
“What’s the point?” I asked, throwing an arm over my eyes, shielding away the blasting morning sunlight that pushed through the curtains of my office. “I have no one to go home to except for the cat.”
“You have a cat?”
I smiled. “No, I lied. I figured the cat would make a good example.”
She chuckled lightly and then went silent. Hearing the rustle of her clothes I jumped up immediately and snatched away quickly the paper she was reaching for on the ground next to the black leather sofa that had become my bed for the past year and a half.
“What’s that?” She asked as I folded the two pieces of paper neatly.
“It’s nothing,” I lied quickly, “Just a letter from my grandmother.”
Her eyes questioned me, “I never knew people still actually wrote.”
“It still happens in some countries.”
“Shut up,” She smacked me playfully on my arm. “Anyways, get dressed and such, I’m dying for some Starbucks!”
“Alright, alright. Can we head to my apartment first so I can shower and such?”
“I thought you never go to your apartment?”
Chuckling, I threw on my tennis shoes, “To be honest, if this place had a shower and a closet, I would never step foot out of my office.”
“Workaholic.”
“Slut.”
She swung on her heel, “Hey!”
“I call them as I see them.”
We laughed aloud and agreed to meet at entrance of the building. Double checking to make sure Brooke was gone, I exhaled deeply and unfolded the letter in my sweaty palms.
How careless of me to fall asleep reading this haunting letter. It’s pathetic, really. The edges were almost falling apart, the ink was fading and dripping from the occasional tear smudge. I swore up and down in this letter that I would never think of him again only to find myself falling to his mercy. On the other hand, his letter was about the last thing I kept that involved him.
The other…the other hung around my neck like a glimmering, silver anchor.
“I’m sorry I have to leave. But I promise I will write you everyday!”
“Liar.” she murmured. “Once you leave this place you will forget all about me. I will cease to be a foolish girl that you thought you loved.We’ve known each other for only a month, you couldn’t possibly love me.”
“Nonsense. Pure nonsense.”
He lifted her chin with his hands and stared deeply into her dark, almost amber eyes. Eyes that he could have fallen into to find a safe nesting space. Eyes that he had been longing for his whole life. Everything that she was showed in her eyes. Every emotion. And when he looked into them now, he could see that she was full of doubt and sadness. She had every right to be, he thought. Besides, he was a rock star, surrounded by beautiful, higher class women swooning over the very existence of him. She had no need to worry, nevertheless. With her, he had found more love in a month than he had ever found in his whole life. He reached into his pocket and felt the soft, velvet box on his fingertips. With his other hand, he felt the own velvet of her hair.
It was late at night, two in the morning, and the snow had finally melted enough for a safe journey home for Bono and his three band mates. On one hand, it was wonderful news, considering the band could continue on their tour. On the other, it meant having to leave her. Jessica Stewart. The single most interesting creature Bono has come to know in many, many years. She wasn’t the everyday groupie. She was full of life, spirit and very grounded. She never looked at him like a stupid, indulgent rock star. She never even called him “Bono.” It was “Paul” to her. Normal, everyday man Paul.
Now, after many wonderful days of stealing kisses and nights in secrecy, like a modern day version of Romeo and Juliet, it was time to depart. At eight o’ clock the next morning, Bono and his crew would leave Ohio and move on to North Carolina.
They sat on the guest room bed, both Indian style, across from one another. He kept his best to not take her right then and there as she kept her best not to cry out hysterically. It was strangely quiet in the Stewart residence. Even at two in the morning Jessica’s step dad would be watching a late movie in the downstairs living room. Or Larry and Adam, Bono’s band mates, would have been yelling at the Playstation. Maybe the noise was still happening, only mute to Bono and the girl before him.
“I have something for you,” He said, breaking the silence.
She didn’t seem to care, remaining still and as silent as the house.
“Look at me,” He said, gently pushing her chin up with his pointer finger.
Their eyes locked and Bono smiled. “There. Now I can see your dazzling eyes.”
She went slightly red in the face and smiled at him.
He took out the black velvet box and handed it to her. Their fingers grazed momentarily and she slowly opened the box.
Inside prized a beautifully handcrafted silver locket in the shape of a octagon. It wasn’t very big and yet wasn’t really small, either. Tiny stones of garnet embedded into a lacey shape, like a Victorian styled skirt. She traced the design lightly with her fingertips and sucked in a breath.
“It’s gorgeous,” Jessica whispered.
“Isn’t it? I’ve never seen anything like it. I went to an antique store the other day while you were at school. It kept popping back into my mind. It reminded me of you so much. And the garnet is your birthstone. Open it.”
Before the words even came out of his mouth, Jessica already had the locket spread open. He was looking at her, after all, not the jewelry. He wanted to remember her every movement, every blink of her eyes.
“All roads lead to where you are,” She read aloud, her throat tightening.
“That’s right,” Bono took her face in his palms. “No matter where I am in this world, every road will lead me to where you are. Oh, my darling, Jessica, you are the light of my nights.”
He kissed her forehead lightly and locked the chain around her neck. It fell in with a light, cold thump between her breasts.
“Most women don’t like necklaces that hang that low but-”
“I will keep you at my heart.” She finished for him. “It’s perfect.”
I sighed, thinking of that last night with him, fingering the silver chain around my neck. It’s funny how some moments stay and others disappear completely. Some remembrances of Bono have faded only slightly but only because I had pushed them to the very back of my mind.
In fact, I haven’t thought about him for years. I hid away all of our pictures together and only a copy of my farewell letter stayed behind. You never think to duplicate your own words unless you know that they will be your final words to a loved one. And what happens when you keep fossils? You dig them up to study them all over again.
Last night I was going through a portfolio from college, trying to track down some old photos to frame and hang on the walls of my office. Sifting through, the letter fell like a boulder onto the floor. I knew the words all too well and why I decided to re-read such an emotional filled letter was beyond me. In some crazy way, I thought that maybe for once in over six years that Bono was thinking of me. Silly huh?
I can’t put too much blame on him. I was eighteen when we met and he was a man well into his early thirties. My parents had allowed him and his mates to stay in our house, with their high school daughter, mind you. Still, we fell for each other. And when you fall for someone, you have to be sure to pick them.
Bono just let me lay there on the ground.
Remember that Brooke was waiting for me, I shoved the letter underneath the sofa and rushed down stairs to greet the polluted air of New York.
Now when I say “polluted” I don’t mean that in a bad way, per se. New York has the best pollution in all the world consisting of gas fumes, hot dogs, coffee and a fresh breeze from the rivers outside of town.
Walking with Brooke, it was almost habit to take a major sniff of the fruit and flowers stands. Coming from a small town in the middle of Ohio, being in NYC was a personal wet dream. I loved the sounds of the busy feet on the sidewalks, the rushing of cars and their loud honks. It was a whole different world for me. A world that kept me at ease and at bay.
Once we reached my small apartment in downtown Manhattan, I quickly showered, dressed into a pair of skinny blue jeans, heals and a white fitted tank and put on a quick layer of makeup.
“I don’t see why you don’t like staying here,” Brooke teased, fluffing a pillow on my couch. “It’s cozy. And you have a bed.”
“It’s not like I mean to stay over night at the office. I get caught up on Photoshop and then I’m too tired to walk home. It’s easier to keep everything in the office.”
She blinked her bight green eyes at me. “You need a man.”
“No thank you.”
Brooke and I have been best friends since the second grade and we followed each other through college and somehow ended up in the same job. We grew up together and it seemed as if fate wanted to keep it that way. And as much as I trusted her, I still could never bring myself to tell her about my affair with Bono. I’ve come close many times but something always kept my mouth still. Besides, talking about it would have only brought back the hurt and the guilt.
We headed off to Starbucks and ordered our usual. Actually, we’ve been going to the same Starbucks every morning since day one of college and the workers knew us better than their own families.
Sitting down at a cozy two seated table, we talked of work and upcoming projects. Brooke was more into fine arts than she was photography, unfortunately, the fine arts doesn’t provide a descent salary like photography, so she settled for second best. Myself, on the other hand, never wanted to do anything but hold a camera to my eye for the rest of my life.
In the middle of conversation, Brooke went deathly pale and silent. My brows crossed at her.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, really worried at her sudden change of mood.
“Um…”She stuttered. “Jessie…” She went to a whisper, “Bon-Bon-Bono’s behind you.”
My heart jumped to my throat, my nerves numbing. Slowly, so painfully slowly I turned and saw, in all his glory, dressed in a black leather jacket and blue jeans, the B-man himself standing in line for a cup o’ Joe.
“We have to get out of here.” I turned to Brooke sharply. “Now.”
“Don’t you want to say hi? I mean, the man lived with you for a month.”
“No! I want to leave! Now!”
Giving her no time to respond, Brooke could only watch as I collected my work, laptop, and purse into my arms and storm out of the store. I was ten steps ahead of her and I could hear her rush to catch up. Stopping around the corner, I caught my breath and tried to hold back my tears.
A hand touched my arm and I jumped, startled.
“I couldn’t do it, Brooke. I’m sorry to rush like that but I just couldn’t do it.”
“It’s ok,” She whispered. “But…I’m afraid we’ve been followed.”
Behind her, I saw a pair of blue sunglasses peaking. Brooke moved aside and he smiled gently, picking up a few photos that had fallen from my arms. He handed them to me but I did not reach for them. My eyes couldn’t part with his beautiful face, a face that I had neglected for years.
“Hello,” He said softly. “It’s been a long time.”
Too long.
A part of me wanted to drop whatever was in my arms and put him there in their place. The other part of me wanted to scream at him. My anger got the best of me.
“Listen, Jessica, I know what-”
With a strong force, I threw my arm back and landed a loud, echoing slap on his right cheek. My hand stung and his face turned red from my force. He stared at me in utter shock and I’m sure Brooke wanted to smack some sense into me.
“Don’t be distraught if I twist and walk away,” I spit at him and did just that.
Once again, be gentle
and i never proof-read so please excuse any mistakes.
Thank you!
)) and I used to write U2 fan-fic on the Where Wild Thoughts Escape, U2fanfiction.net I think it was, I can‘t remember because it‘s been so long since I‘ve written anything related to the band ((I am a Mary-Sue author, we all need some sort of fantasized relief in this dull every day life, right? Lol)) However, after reading Endless Deep by January tonight ((very beautiful story, btw)), it brought back my desire to write again. I’ve been writing a vampire novel ((not in any way U2 related)) for the last year and a half now and I need a break from it. This particular story is supposed to be two separate stories but I decided to put them into one. So please, be gentle, and let me know what you think! Thank you!
Adrift-chapter one
Bono,
It’s raining out tonight. In fact, it’s probably one of the hardest rains I’ve seen in New York thus far. When was the last time I’ve done this? Just sitting next to a window, listening to the pitter patter of rain drops and the whoosh of extreme wind, desperately fighting past the heights of the hundreds of skyscrapers. There’s something almost calming and relaxing about rain. Most people despise it, run from it. I can’t bring myself to do such a thing. Besides, how would we get our colorful world if we didn’t have rain?
I’m in my third year of college now, just one more year until I graduate and start a career with Focus Photography International. Have you heard of them? Probably not. They’re not as famous as many of the other photography companies, but four years of college shouldn’t go unfurnished. My mother and step-father worked very hard to put me through college, to provide me with an independent apartment and supplies. It would be extremely selfish of me to become an independent photographer after school, wouldn’t it? And, I’m hoping, that with the tricks and talents I have learned, I can bring something new and fresh to the company that might be able to bring their name to more fame.
Anyways, enough about me. How are you doing? Why do I even bother asking you that? I have lost count to how many letters I have sent you over the last four years, all in which I receive no reply from the other end. Four years and I receive no phone calls or emails or letters. For all I know this address isn’t even right, that maybe you gave me a false address, a false number, a false email. If it wasn’t for Edge and his every-once-in-a-blue-moon letters I would think that my love affair with you never would have happened at all. Why do you choose to be so cruel? Was it something I did? Was it something I said? Once again I laugh at myself, because I’ve been asking these same questions to a piece of paper for far too long.
Now…now I ask myself another question: why don’t I just give up? Why do I sit here, in the same window ledge over looking times square, night after night, after night, writing and thinking and wishing and…remembering? Why even bother with something that so obviously means nothing to you? And yeah, my over abundance of letters is probably creepy, but I’m holding you to your promises, Paul. You said you loved me and like a fool I fell for you, I fell for you harder than rushing rain outside my New York window. You said you would come back to me when the time was right. The time has been right for years. You said you would write me and instead left me with hours of watching the postmen.
I miss your kisses, I miss our long talks. Most of all…I miss you. We never made love and in a way I regret not doing so when I had the chance. Then again, now living with certain circumstances, I’m beginning to think that you never made love to me because you planned this all along.
So what did you want from me, if not sex? What did I have to offer? Our story is something that comes out of a novel. How many times in a lifetime does a tour bus break down in the middle of no where in one of the worst blizzards in Ohio history? How many times in a lifetime does that tour bus hold the most famous band since the Beatles? And please, please, tell me, how many times in a lifetime does one of those band members fall in love with a teenage girl? I never would have believed such a story if I never would have lived it’s many chapters.
When I close my eyes I can almost see the two of us slow dancing in the spare bedroom. I can almost still smell your rich cigars and your even richer musk. On my lips I can still taste your exotic skin. Sometimes when I go back home I can see Edge playing U2 songs on his acoustic, with my family and you singing along. Memories. Nothing but memories that almost didn’t exist. But you…you still exist. I see you everywhere: magazine covers, MTV, on the larger-than-life screens in Times Square.
Four years and nothing. So, without further ado, this will be my last letter to you. I pledge on everything that I am that I will no longer write you or pick up a pen ever again to reveal my soul to a blank piece of parchment. I’m finished, Bono. I should have been finished years ago. I just could never bring myself to let you go. And no, not because you’re Bono, lead singer of a well respected band, but because you were the only man in my life to show me real love, real emotion and a reason to succeed in life. If anything, I thank you for my motivation. I do not thank you for the endless nights of tears or the days that linger on like years. I do not thank you for the enormous empty pit in my poor, aching heart. You were meant to break hearts, and I should have known better than to fall for someone as arrogant as yourself.
I apologize for my sour words. And as sour as they are, they are sweet on my tongue. You deserve every bit of guilt that I pass onto you. You hurt me in more ways imaginable. I allow you to hurt me no longer.
I love you and I will always love you. Love, as it seems, is sometimes never enough. Goodbye, Bono. If we should ever cross paths in this lifetime again, please don’t be distraught if I twist and walk the other way. My new goal for my life is to erase you completely from my memories…from my life.
Please tell the guys that I hold nothing against them. They didn’t break me in two.
-Jessica
“Jess, Jess, wake up!” I was being shook violently, and slowly I drifted out from a dreamless sleep and back to reality. Ah, reality, what a blissful piece of shit. Don’t you ever wish that you could just fall asleep and stay in that immortal state until the day you die?
No, I suppose not. That was very emotionless of me.
“You have an apartment, don’t you ever stay there?” Brooke, my co-worker and best friend, was standing above me, grinning with irritation.
“What’s the point?” I asked, throwing an arm over my eyes, shielding away the blasting morning sunlight that pushed through the curtains of my office. “I have no one to go home to except for the cat.”
“You have a cat?”
I smiled. “No, I lied. I figured the cat would make a good example.”
She chuckled lightly and then went silent. Hearing the rustle of her clothes I jumped up immediately and snatched away quickly the paper she was reaching for on the ground next to the black leather sofa that had become my bed for the past year and a half.
“What’s that?” She asked as I folded the two pieces of paper neatly.
“It’s nothing,” I lied quickly, “Just a letter from my grandmother.”
Her eyes questioned me, “I never knew people still actually wrote.”
“It still happens in some countries.”
“Shut up,” She smacked me playfully on my arm. “Anyways, get dressed and such, I’m dying for some Starbucks!”
“Alright, alright. Can we head to my apartment first so I can shower and such?”
“I thought you never go to your apartment?”
Chuckling, I threw on my tennis shoes, “To be honest, if this place had a shower and a closet, I would never step foot out of my office.”
“Workaholic.”
“Slut.”
She swung on her heel, “Hey!”
“I call them as I see them.”
We laughed aloud and agreed to meet at entrance of the building. Double checking to make sure Brooke was gone, I exhaled deeply and unfolded the letter in my sweaty palms.
How careless of me to fall asleep reading this haunting letter. It’s pathetic, really. The edges were almost falling apart, the ink was fading and dripping from the occasional tear smudge. I swore up and down in this letter that I would never think of him again only to find myself falling to his mercy. On the other hand, his letter was about the last thing I kept that involved him.
The other…the other hung around my neck like a glimmering, silver anchor.
“I’m sorry I have to leave. But I promise I will write you everyday!”
“Liar.” she murmured. “Once you leave this place you will forget all about me. I will cease to be a foolish girl that you thought you loved.We’ve known each other for only a month, you couldn’t possibly love me.”
“Nonsense. Pure nonsense.”
He lifted her chin with his hands and stared deeply into her dark, almost amber eyes. Eyes that he could have fallen into to find a safe nesting space. Eyes that he had been longing for his whole life. Everything that she was showed in her eyes. Every emotion. And when he looked into them now, he could see that she was full of doubt and sadness. She had every right to be, he thought. Besides, he was a rock star, surrounded by beautiful, higher class women swooning over the very existence of him. She had no need to worry, nevertheless. With her, he had found more love in a month than he had ever found in his whole life. He reached into his pocket and felt the soft, velvet box on his fingertips. With his other hand, he felt the own velvet of her hair.
It was late at night, two in the morning, and the snow had finally melted enough for a safe journey home for Bono and his three band mates. On one hand, it was wonderful news, considering the band could continue on their tour. On the other, it meant having to leave her. Jessica Stewart. The single most interesting creature Bono has come to know in many, many years. She wasn’t the everyday groupie. She was full of life, spirit and very grounded. She never looked at him like a stupid, indulgent rock star. She never even called him “Bono.” It was “Paul” to her. Normal, everyday man Paul.
Now, after many wonderful days of stealing kisses and nights in secrecy, like a modern day version of Romeo and Juliet, it was time to depart. At eight o’ clock the next morning, Bono and his crew would leave Ohio and move on to North Carolina.
They sat on the guest room bed, both Indian style, across from one another. He kept his best to not take her right then and there as she kept her best not to cry out hysterically. It was strangely quiet in the Stewart residence. Even at two in the morning Jessica’s step dad would be watching a late movie in the downstairs living room. Or Larry and Adam, Bono’s band mates, would have been yelling at the Playstation. Maybe the noise was still happening, only mute to Bono and the girl before him.
“I have something for you,” He said, breaking the silence.
She didn’t seem to care, remaining still and as silent as the house.
“Look at me,” He said, gently pushing her chin up with his pointer finger.
Their eyes locked and Bono smiled. “There. Now I can see your dazzling eyes.”
She went slightly red in the face and smiled at him.
He took out the black velvet box and handed it to her. Their fingers grazed momentarily and she slowly opened the box.
Inside prized a beautifully handcrafted silver locket in the shape of a octagon. It wasn’t very big and yet wasn’t really small, either. Tiny stones of garnet embedded into a lacey shape, like a Victorian styled skirt. She traced the design lightly with her fingertips and sucked in a breath.
“It’s gorgeous,” Jessica whispered.
“Isn’t it? I’ve never seen anything like it. I went to an antique store the other day while you were at school. It kept popping back into my mind. It reminded me of you so much. And the garnet is your birthstone. Open it.”
Before the words even came out of his mouth, Jessica already had the locket spread open. He was looking at her, after all, not the jewelry. He wanted to remember her every movement, every blink of her eyes.
“All roads lead to where you are,” She read aloud, her throat tightening.
“That’s right,” Bono took her face in his palms. “No matter where I am in this world, every road will lead me to where you are. Oh, my darling, Jessica, you are the light of my nights.”
He kissed her forehead lightly and locked the chain around her neck. It fell in with a light, cold thump between her breasts.
“Most women don’t like necklaces that hang that low but-”
“I will keep you at my heart.” She finished for him. “It’s perfect.”
I sighed, thinking of that last night with him, fingering the silver chain around my neck. It’s funny how some moments stay and others disappear completely. Some remembrances of Bono have faded only slightly but only because I had pushed them to the very back of my mind.
In fact, I haven’t thought about him for years. I hid away all of our pictures together and only a copy of my farewell letter stayed behind. You never think to duplicate your own words unless you know that they will be your final words to a loved one. And what happens when you keep fossils? You dig them up to study them all over again.
Last night I was going through a portfolio from college, trying to track down some old photos to frame and hang on the walls of my office. Sifting through, the letter fell like a boulder onto the floor. I knew the words all too well and why I decided to re-read such an emotional filled letter was beyond me. In some crazy way, I thought that maybe for once in over six years that Bono was thinking of me. Silly huh?
I can’t put too much blame on him. I was eighteen when we met and he was a man well into his early thirties. My parents had allowed him and his mates to stay in our house, with their high school daughter, mind you. Still, we fell for each other. And when you fall for someone, you have to be sure to pick them.
Bono just let me lay there on the ground.
Remember that Brooke was waiting for me, I shoved the letter underneath the sofa and rushed down stairs to greet the polluted air of New York.
Now when I say “polluted” I don’t mean that in a bad way, per se. New York has the best pollution in all the world consisting of gas fumes, hot dogs, coffee and a fresh breeze from the rivers outside of town.
Walking with Brooke, it was almost habit to take a major sniff of the fruit and flowers stands. Coming from a small town in the middle of Ohio, being in NYC was a personal wet dream. I loved the sounds of the busy feet on the sidewalks, the rushing of cars and their loud honks. It was a whole different world for me. A world that kept me at ease and at bay.
Once we reached my small apartment in downtown Manhattan, I quickly showered, dressed into a pair of skinny blue jeans, heals and a white fitted tank and put on a quick layer of makeup.
“I don’t see why you don’t like staying here,” Brooke teased, fluffing a pillow on my couch. “It’s cozy. And you have a bed.”
“It’s not like I mean to stay over night at the office. I get caught up on Photoshop and then I’m too tired to walk home. It’s easier to keep everything in the office.”
She blinked her bight green eyes at me. “You need a man.”
“No thank you.”
Brooke and I have been best friends since the second grade and we followed each other through college and somehow ended up in the same job. We grew up together and it seemed as if fate wanted to keep it that way. And as much as I trusted her, I still could never bring myself to tell her about my affair with Bono. I’ve come close many times but something always kept my mouth still. Besides, talking about it would have only brought back the hurt and the guilt.
We headed off to Starbucks and ordered our usual. Actually, we’ve been going to the same Starbucks every morning since day one of college and the workers knew us better than their own families.
Sitting down at a cozy two seated table, we talked of work and upcoming projects. Brooke was more into fine arts than she was photography, unfortunately, the fine arts doesn’t provide a descent salary like photography, so she settled for second best. Myself, on the other hand, never wanted to do anything but hold a camera to my eye for the rest of my life.
In the middle of conversation, Brooke went deathly pale and silent. My brows crossed at her.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, really worried at her sudden change of mood.
“Um…”She stuttered. “Jessie…” She went to a whisper, “Bon-Bon-Bono’s behind you.”
My heart jumped to my throat, my nerves numbing. Slowly, so painfully slowly I turned and saw, in all his glory, dressed in a black leather jacket and blue jeans, the B-man himself standing in line for a cup o’ Joe.
“We have to get out of here.” I turned to Brooke sharply. “Now.”
“Don’t you want to say hi? I mean, the man lived with you for a month.”
“No! I want to leave! Now!”
Giving her no time to respond, Brooke could only watch as I collected my work, laptop, and purse into my arms and storm out of the store. I was ten steps ahead of her and I could hear her rush to catch up. Stopping around the corner, I caught my breath and tried to hold back my tears.
A hand touched my arm and I jumped, startled.
“I couldn’t do it, Brooke. I’m sorry to rush like that but I just couldn’t do it.”
“It’s ok,” She whispered. “But…I’m afraid we’ve been followed.”
Behind her, I saw a pair of blue sunglasses peaking. Brooke moved aside and he smiled gently, picking up a few photos that had fallen from my arms. He handed them to me but I did not reach for them. My eyes couldn’t part with his beautiful face, a face that I had neglected for years.
“Hello,” He said softly. “It’s been a long time.”
Too long.
A part of me wanted to drop whatever was in my arms and put him there in their place. The other part of me wanted to scream at him. My anger got the best of me.
“Listen, Jessica, I know what-”
With a strong force, I threw my arm back and landed a loud, echoing slap on his right cheek. My hand stung and his face turned red from my force. He stared at me in utter shock and I’m sure Brooke wanted to smack some sense into me.
“Don’t be distraught if I twist and walk away,” I spit at him and did just that.
Once again, be gentle
and i never proof-read so please excuse any mistakes.Thank you!
wow that was great - is it a one off or will you write more?
x1000 
And not just the chapter you posted. I'm sitting here with my jaw on the floor after reading your OP twice. Why I never saw it until now is beyond me. See, I started a fanfic several years ago, too (4, to be exact!). I got 16 chapters finished & then changed jobs, which caused me to put down the story - only to pick it back up about a week ago. I've been reediting the chapters I completed & was preparing tonight or tomorrow to start posting them as I started writing new chapters again. 
Seriously, this is just freaky... 
lol! Check your inbox!
