"Shit,"
Larry swore under his breath as the band's playing
screeched to a halt the song halted abruptly with an off
beat crash of cymbal and screech of guitar feedback.
My band is falling apart...
"Dammit, Larry!" Edge growled miserably,
pulling the strap over his head and dropping his guitar
on the floor with an angry thud. "Can't keep it up
for the fucking life of you, can you?"
"Sorry... " Larry mumbled dejectedly, leaning
forward and down to pick up the drumstick he'd dropped in
mid-song.
"Yeah, well you've been sorry an awful lot lately,
don't you think?" Edge said in a low, but sharp,
voice.
"Shut the fuck up, Edge. Leave him alone... you've
been ranting all fucking day and I'm sick to death of
it," snapped Adam, whipping a cigarette out of his
pocket and searching through his vest for a lighter.
"Don't tell me what to do, Clayton,"
Edge retorted sharply.
Adam glared up at Edge and Edge returned the steely
glower. Larry looked back and forth between the two and
sighed loudly, throwing his sticks down on the floor
forcefully. The loud crash of the sticks hitting the
floor rang through the room and everyone was instantly
silent and frozen in surprise. "Shut the fuck up,
both of you! I'm sick of all of you!" Larry
hissed furiously, glaring at the three other members of
U2. "ENOUGH."
The group was quieted, though Edge and Adam's dirty looks
continued, noiseless threats to each other. Larry held
out a hand toward Adam and Adam looked down at the hand
curiously. "What?"
"Gimme one," Larry said flatly, motioning to
the cigarette hanging from his lips.
Adam pulled the cigarette out of his mouth and frowned,
bewildered. "You don't smoke."
"I do now, just gimme one," Larry
insisted tersely.
Bono made a surprised, dismayed face, but Larry didn't
see it. Adam threw Bono a questioning gaze and Larry
scowled darkly.
"I don't need Bono's permission, I can do whatever
the fuck I want. Now gimme one," ordered Larry.
Adam obeyed reluctantly, pulling another cigarette out
and handing it to Larry over the drumkit. Larry took it
and stuck it in his pocket, standing up and reaching for
his jacket. He walked toward the door out of the
recording room.
"Where are you going?" Edge asked irritably.
"Anywhere you aren't," replied Larry coldly.
Larry
stepped out into the chilly, stale night air, briefly
glancing around the East Berlin alley before shoving the
cigarette between his lips and pulling a book of matches
out of his jacket's pocket. He lit the match, which in
turn lit the cigarette, and he took it in eagerly,
despite how truly awful it felt to have smoke fill his
lungs. He coughed, blowing out a thin white line of
smoke, and took the cigarette out of his mouth, scowling
down at it.
I've never smoked before in my life... why am I
starting now?
This, however, didn't stop him as he took another big
puff of the cigarette, swallowing with a dry, scratchy
throat. The cigarette smoldered between his fingers,
bearing the only light in the alley beside a street light
around the corner of the building. He leaned back,
feeling the cold brick wall through his thin shirt and
jacket. His eyes closed tiredly as his mind sunk back
into the situation he'd just left in the studio.
We're not going to make it... God... we're not
going to make it...
He frowned solemnly in the darkness, suddenly feeling
extremely alone. He flicked the cigarette and little
glowing orange ashes fell to the ground. His feet shifted
slightly and the toe of his boot brushed an empty beer
bottle, the glass rattling and scraping against the
gravel covered ground of the alley. Larry looked down,
seemingly dazed to be brought back into the moment by the
sudden noise. He stared at it dully, his mind completely
lost from everything around him. So surreal...
What am I going to do? What the fuck am I gonna
do? U2 is all I know... I don't know anything but U2 and
drums and Bono, Edge, Adam and Larry. That's all I
understand is those four names, always together, a
perfect fit, like a jigsaw puzzle... what the FUCK am I
gonna do?
The door to
the recording room shut behind him with a muffled click
and he looked around curiously, his gaze finally falling
on Edge.
"... What are you doing?"
"What does it look like I'm doing?" replied
Edge. "I'm packing up."
"Oh... well, where's Adam?" Larry asked.
"Said he was going out for a bite to eat... he
stressed to Bono that he was going by himself... as if
I'd even want to go anywhere with him after his
attitude today," Edge huffed as he meticulously put
away his guitar.
"And Bono?"
"How am I supposed to know? If he was smart, he went
home to Dublin," Edge sighed, walking over to Larry
and picking up his coat from off a chair next to him.
"... So where are you going?" Larry asked, a
bit of distress finally showing in his voice, which was
now ragged from his first smoke since he'd tried it as a
teenager.
Edge gave a weary look at Larry's seemingly endless
questions. "Back to the hotel to sleep... and
I suggest you do the same."
Larry thought a moment before shaking his head slowly.
"No... I want to play some more."
"Whatever," muttered Edge, pulling his coat on
and quickly leaving without another word.
Larry watched him leave with a detached stare. Despite
his blank face, a flare of hurt, worry and anxiety sat
inside him, festering... a small flame that got bigger
and bigger with every agonizing minute of uncertainty and
misery. He could see it all now. It was already
happening. That fire, that flame of doubt and dread and
unhappiness, was consuming his friends, consuming the
band... consuming him.
He wanted to fight it, and in the beginning he had, but
that horrible feeling of everything being out of whack,
misplaced, was too strong and he'd lost the fight today.
Only a miracle could save us now.
Edge had given up. That was why he was so agitated
lately. Edge hated to give up on anything. Adam had given
up as well. Larry could feel and see the resentment and
disappointment in him. Bono had barely said two words all
day, a sure sign he'd stopped trying.
But no one hated quitting more than Larry. Larry always
finished what he started... he felt like they were
slacking off, giving up before they had an actual right
to. There was something horribly wrong with Edge's
irritated behavior, Adam's indifferent attitude, Bono's
lack of argumentativeness or encouragement toward the
others...
You've got your own problems with Bono.
Larry shook his head violently, trying to forget that
night and morning from almost a month ago in Australia.
The stale, hot hotel room, the pain and ache of his
body... the comfort of having a friend there, taking care
of him, worried about him... and then, just like that,
gone without a reason or even an apology.
But he had been there for him at one point, and it
had felt wonderful. It had felt like someone actually
cared about him for once. He hadn't felt that way in a
while and Bono had been there...
God, I miss that...
No... you miss HIM, a little voice inside him
corrected.
Shut up.
... And then gone just as easily. Even though he'd
promised Larry he'd stay and watch over him, he'd left.
The thought that Larry might have suddenly had a turn for
the worse, taken really ill, and no one would have
been there to do anything... once again Larry shook his
head, mortified by his own thoughts.
And Larry had confided in him something he'd never told
anyone, never thought he could tell anyone. He
could even hear it still, now, as if it were still
hanging in the air, waiting for Bono to hear it and
believe it, finally believe it...
You're the best friend I've ever had...
Bono hadn't believed him.
Please believe me...
Or he had believed him and had rejected the idea.
I can't take it... he rejected me... I thought
if ANYONE would be there, would WANT to hear that, it
would be him...
He didn't want to be the best friend Larry had ever had.
He didn't want Larry. The things Larry had feared
– abandonment, rejection, refusal – were the
things it seemed Bono had given him. Since that night,
Bono had been aloof, evasive and when he did speak to
Larry, it was in a bitter tone. Since that morning, Larry
had remained hurt, angry and confused. Every time he
tried to initiate conversation with Bono, Bono had icily
ended the conversation, looking either despondent or
perplexed or miffed. Larry had felt those same things,
but couldn't understand where Bono was coming from to act
such a way. He was the one blowing off the
friendship... wasn't he? And if he was, then why? What
had Larry done?
I told him how I feel... I told him how I felt about
him and he ran. There's a reason I've been so scared to
own up to my emotions and THAT'S the reason... I knew
he was going to do that. I sound so stupid when I say
what I feel. I should have just kept my mouth shut... I'm
such an idiot...
Now they were stuck in the grey, brown and starving East
Berlin. The life of the city was gone. Just a dull,
lingering reflection of what hadn't been for decades and
a poignant realization of what would never be
remained in its place. The band was stifling like the
city, suffering from a lack of progress, a lack of
inspiration. Edge and Adam didn't know that Bono and
Larry's friendship had faded to nothing, (at least they
didn't know it had nothing to do with what was going on
now). If the general friendship between the four was bad,
the friendship between drummer and singer was
nonexistent.
I can live through losing my band. I can get over that
eventually... but I can't lose my best friend... I won't
make it through that.
It had all been so easy in the beginning.
Musically, they had sounded horrible, that much was true,
but... there had been a potential for better things, for
growth. And they were close, best friends, all four of
them. Together, as one group, and they were happy. When
together, they finally belonged somewhere.
Stop. I could think this over a million times and all
it will do is make me want to cry... I'm NOT crying.
There was one way to push it down, to hide it all... he
was so embarrassed by his weakness, by his emotions, by
the knowledge that if he would only let himself, he could
easily break down right there and cry and scream and lash
out...
Like a five year old.
Yes, there was a way to own up to it, but not really
have to... be embarrassed in privacy, in a place
where most people were too oblivious to look...
Grow up.
He'd gone to that place time after time and, no matter
how guilty or stupid he felt afterwards, it always
worked... and it didn't leave you like "best
friends" could do.
There's always that place... my world can fall... my
world can collapse and I still have that place...
Larry pulled his jacket off hurriedly, nearly ripping a
sleeve in his rush, and threw it haphazardly on a chair.
He walked quickly over to the drumkit and sat down behind
it, picking up the drumsticks he'd thrown down earlier in
a rage. One of the sticks had cracked from the abuse. He
leaned back, reaching behind him and pulling a new pair
off an amp, where they'd been layed to rest until Larry
needed them. He once again dropped the first pair of
sticks on the floor and braced himself to play, looking
around the drumkit as if noticing it for the first time.
There ya go... run away to your drumkit like a
frightened little boy... again.
Shut up.
I've never seen someone so shitless...
SHUT UP.
Go ahead. Run away, baby...
Larry's eyes squeezed closed and a low whimper came out
from the back of his throat. He tried to swallow it,
tried to blink away the tears.
No wonder Bono can't stand you.
At that thought, he couldn't hold it in any longer. He
let out a loud, angry, miserable sob. The sticks slid out
of his hands and clattered to the floor near by the
ruined ones and his hands shot up to his face, covering
and trying to wipe away the tears streaming out of his
eyes. His body shook violently as he continued to try to
push the crying down farther into him without success.
"Oh, God... " was all he could croak out before
he let out another sob, this one louder than the last,
and he leaned forward, putting his head down between his
legs. His hands slid up to rest in his hair, pulling at
the strands unconsciously and harshly.
Good. Pain... whatever. Anything to get my mind off
this...
Run away...
"No... I'm not... no... " he moaned, his vision
blurring. "I promised myself... no... "
His sporadic sobbing turned to a somewhat controlled,
jerky crying. But now he couldn't breathe. He took in
huge gulps of air, but he still felt suffocated, like his
heart was going to pound out of his chest and his lungs
were going to squeeze shut.
I can't breathe... I can't live like this... I can't
breathe...
"... Larry?"
Larry's head shot up, and his hands immediately went to
his cheeks, trying to rub away the evidence of his
outburst. He blinked, clearing his eyes, and saw Bono
staring worriedly back at him.
"Larry, what's... are you okay?" Bono asked.
"I'm fine. Leave me alone," mumbled Larry
stiffly.
Bono scowled. "No, you're not. I just saw you
cr-"
"I said I'm FINE," Larry interrupted in
a threatening tone. "Just leave me the fuck alone.
You're the last person I wanna see right now."
Bono's face hardened and his jaw seemed to click into
place. "No."
Larry glared at him. "WHAT?"
"I'm not leaving until we talk about this. I'm sick
of... " Bono trailed off at Larry's murderous look.
"... I don't want to avoid you anymore."
"Why not? You've done a great job so far,"
Larry said, turning his head away and picking up his new
drumsticks off the floor.
"... I didn't do... this to you, did I?" Bono
asked slowly.
Larry made an angry face. "God, Bono, can you be a
little more full of yourself?"
"Well then, what is it? Did you have a fight with
Ann?" Bono questioned.
"No, I didn't have a fight with Ann," Larry
retorted in a mocking tone. "But even if I did, it's
not like I have anyone to go to about it."
Bono frowned bitterly. "... Funny. You expect me to
be there for you, but I... " Bono stopped himself
and Larry glowered at him. "What, Bono? Go ahead,
say it."
"That night when you were sick on the tour... "
Larry stood up, shaking his head. "No. I don't want
to talk about this."
"Well, LARRY-"
"No," Larry hissed. "I don't need
to relive the humiliation, thank you."
"Humiliation?" Bono scowled. "Who
humiliated WHO, Larry?"
"YOU humiliated ME."
"HOW?"
"I told my... " Larry shook his head again.
"I'm not going to go through that again. I've been
reliving it over and over and it just makes me mad."
"I don't believe this... " Bono muttered as he
watched Larry pull his jacket on. "You were
the one who said you could live without me! Made it sound
like you felt you'd be better off without me too!
After everything I did... I took care of you when you
were stricken to the bed and you stab me in the back! Not
even the back! You did it right in my bloody face."
Larry paused and looked at Bono with a genuinely curious
face. "I what?"
"Oh, fuck off, Larry," Bono said acidly,
getting up to leave the room.
"No, wait," Larry said, grabbing Bono by the
arm. "I honestly don't know what you're talking
about."
Bono pursed his lips. "You told me you could live
without me, remember?"
"Yeah, but I... I meant I could, but... I
didn't mean I wanted to."
Bono eyes closed, and for a moment Larry thought there
might have just been a misunderstanding somewhere down
the road. Then Bono opened his eyes again and Larry's
heart sank, seeing the disappointed look in his eyes.
"Larry... it's not just this once... all these years
and... " Bono paused a moment before figuring out
exactly how to say what he wanted to say. "... Every
time you tell me something warm, nice... MEANINGFUL...
you go right back and say something shit to cover up the
fact that maybe you care a little."
Hit the nail on the head, Bono.
SHUT UP.
He's right.
No, he's NOT.
You know he is. You're a basket case.
Larry's head shook slowly, back and forth, and his eyes
became wide and once again filled with tears.
"I can't take this... " he shouted, pushing
past Bono roughly, heading for the exit and grabbing one
of Adam's left over pack of cigarettes off a table on his
way out.
"Larry!" Bono yelled. "... Dammit, Larry...
please... "
The door slammed shut loudly behind Larry and Bono stared
at the door a moment. Finally he sat back down, putting
his head in his hands and mumbling, "Always runs
away... "
Larry
slammed the door, leaning against it, his breathing heavy
again. Tear streaks were running down his face once more.
He slid down the brick wall, sitting roughly in the
gravel of the alley, the cold air seeming to squeeze his
lungs shut. He pulled himself into a fetal position, his
back against the freezing wall and his knees pulled up
tightly against his chest. He buried his face into his
crossed arms, praying for salvation, praying for a way
out, praying for a miracle. Praying for anything.
Praying won't help you now, fuck up.
"SHUT UP!" Larry screamed, throwing the pack of
cigarettes at the wall and then shoving his face back
into arms. He let out a despondent wail of fury as the
slap of the cigarette pack hitting the wall ricocheted
through the alley.
He pulled his head up, looking out toward the dirty
street, void of any cars. He sniffled loudly and looked
down at the watch on his wrist. Two in the morning.
I should go to bed.
You should get a psychiatrist.
Fuck off.
Larry's blue eyes ran across the wall in front of him,
dazed, before they finally closed, trying to stop the
tears. He forced himself to smother another sob and
slowly, gradually, the crying stopped.
I'm falling asleep in an alley... I really need to get
my act together. Maybe tomorrow...
Such a fuck up...
I know. I know I am.
He was too exhausted to even open his eyes again. Too
tired to see how irrational and odd his thoughts had
become. His nose became red from the chilly wind and his
body flinched from some horrible, inner nightmare as he
steadily fell into an awkward, uneasy sleep.
His head rested on a numb, cold shoulder.
"I
love you."
Larry recoiled slowly; suddenly awake and puzzled at the
arms wrapped around him. His hands were numb, his body
shivering. He was freezing. And someone was
holding him. What the hell was going on?
... I love you?
Larry finally managed to pry his frozen, heavy eyelids
open. He moaned, his eyes burning and red from crying. At
first he was disoriented. He couldn't remember where he
was or how he'd gotten there. All he knew was that he was
cold, it was dark and someone was holding him. He pulled
away with a sharp jerk, frightened and uncomfortable and
confused.
"Who... where am I?" Larry whispered out of a
dry, sticky throat.
"It's okay, I'm here... "
"Where am I?"
"You're in the alley... how the hell did you fall
asleep in the alley like this?"
The memories came flooding back to Larry and he jolted up
right, groaning and pulling farther away from the person,
turning his back to them and squatting, trying to stand
up on stiff legs.
"Get away from me."
"Larry... "
"No."
A hand tried to help him up and he yanked his arm away.
"Get off me. I don't want your help. You've done
enough to me already."
"Larry... "
"Fucking bastard."
"HEY!" the voice growled.
Larry felt the same hand pull him backwards by the
shoulder, and he collapsed back onto his butt. A twinge
pulled in his back and he cried out in pain, gritting his
teeth. He opened his mouth to protest and curse at the
person, but a hand covered his mouth securely before he
could.
"Just shut up, all right?"
Larry didn't move, the hand still over his mouth and the
person so close he could feel their breath on his cheek.
"I never thought I'd have to tell you to shut
up... look, just listen, all right?"
Larry took a long moment before nodding. The hand
released him and he relaxed slightly, though still
bothered by the physical closeness of the person.
"I didn't mean to ever hurt you. You know that's not
what I'm out to do. But you hurt me really bad
when you said that... how was that supposed to make me
feel, huh?" The voice said softly.
"... I'm sorry."
"... I want to know what I did that upset you so
much."
Larry didn't respond.
It seems so stupid now; I can't even say it. I'm such
a baby. Can't even take care of myself when I'm
sick without needing his help... I can't do ANYTHING
without his help...
"C'mon, Larry."
"I... I'm sorry, Bono."
"DON'T be. I'm sick of you being sorry. I'm sick of
being mad at you and I'm sick of walking around like a
fucking wreck coz I don't have my best friend," Bono
said sternly. "The band may be going to shit, but
that doesn't mean we have to. Now, what did
I do?"
"... I can't."
Bono leaned back, sitting down on his butt across from
Larry, and gave a loud sigh. He looked up at Larry with a
pleading look in his blue eyes. Larry could barely see
him in the scarce white light from the street, but sure
as hell... there were those eyes again.
Tell him. To save your friendship. To save the band...
to save yourself. Just tell him. It's not that big
of a deal.
"You left me."
Bono raised an eyebrow. "... What?"
"You left me... that night, you left me."
"... I was angry."
"Well, I didn't know you were angry at
me."
"... Larry?"
"... I thought you left coz of what I said."
"I did."
"No, I mean... when I told you... " Larry eyes
closed tightly as he forced himself to spit out the
words. "When I said you were the best friend I'd
ever had."
Bono's mouth dropped open slightly and his eyes widened.
His lips moved for a moment, but no sound came out. He
shook his head and ran a hand through his hair. Larry
watched with an apprehensive stare, hoping and praying to
God that wasn't why Bono had left, as Bono stared down at
the ground, trying to understand what had happened.
"... So basically... you thought... you thought I rejected
you."
Larry looked away, his cheeks burning and no longer from
the cold. Bono searched Larry's face, trying desperately
to get eye contact with him.
"You thought I... you thought I didn't... ?"
"Want me," Larry finished with the weakest of
voices.
"Well... Larry, that's just... that's ridiculous.
Why wouldn't I?"
Larry shook his head. "I don't know."
Bono shifted up, kneeling down in front of Larry, still
searching for eye contact with the drummer. Larry refused
it, still looking down at the gravel of the alley and
Bono reached over, pulling Larry's chin up with a finger
and forcing him into eye contact.
"I would never reject you."
"I wish I could believe that," Larry said with
a hopeless tone.
"Why can't you?"
Larry bit his lip, looking down once more and when he
looked up again, his eyes were watery. "I... I don't
know." Bono frowned and Larry shook his head,
rubbing his eyes with a hand. "I don't know what's
wrong with me. I'm a fuck up... I'm such a fuck up."
Just like a five year old.
I don't care anymore.
You will if Bono walks away.
Larry straightened up, blinking furiously and breathing
deeply. He let out a big breath and it steamed in front
of him in a white puff.
Calm... just calm down...
"It's cold out here," Larry finally said
vaguely.
"... You're not a fuck up, Larry."
"Yes, I am."
"No, you're not... if anyone's a fuck up, I am, all
right? You hear me?"
"Bono, it doesn't MEAN anything," snapped
Larry, scowling at him. "You can say that until your
face turns blue, but your actions and my actions and my
LIFE... they don't back you up. You're just saying it coz
you want to go inside coz you're cold and you're even
more sick of me than I am."
Bono glared at him. "You think I'm THAT
self-centered? Well, screw you, Larry! I CARE about you.
I don't want you to get sick again out here in the cold,
I don't want you to hate yourself, I don't want you to
hold it all in anymore. Why won't you TRUST me?"
He yelled, shaking Larry by the shoulders.
Larry flinched and Bono pulled away, his mouth open,
obviously stunned at himself. "I... I'm sorry... I
didn't mean to... touch you like that... " Bono
stood up and turned around, his back to Larry. He pressed
his sweating forehead against the cool brick. "I'm
so sorry."
Larry looked up at his back for a moment and then stood
up, putting a frigid hand on his shoulder. "Don't
beat yourself up about this."
"Well, what do you want me to do?" Bono moaned,
turning around to face Larry. "I can't just watch
you do this... I can't let MYSELF do this."
"I don't... "
"We have a band that's DROWNING in there!" Bono
shouted, motioning to the door leading inside. "This
is the last thing either of us need!"
"All right... resolved. We won't talk about
it," Larry said quickly.
"No, but Larry... " Bono gave a frustrated
sigh. "That's not going to help either. Us
not talking about it doesn't mean it just goes away."
"What do you WANT from me?" Larry roared,
throwing his arms up.
Bono grabbed his arm, pulling him so close that their
noses were only inches from each other. "HERE."
He pointed at his eye. "I want you to look me right
HERE... right straight in the eyes... and want you to
tell me the TRUTH for once. I want to know what
you're feeling."
Larry swallowed, his eyes wide and scared and he tried to
back away. "Stop it."
"I swear to God. You walk out now and that's it. I'm
outta here," said Bono bluntly.
Larry paused, thinking, and then his shoulders sank.
"I... I can't."
"TRY."
"I'm telling you I can-"
"TRY DAMMIT."
Larry blinked, shaken and alarmed by the sudden raise in
Bono's voice, the change of his tone from desperate to
angry. "I... I don't want to lose the band."
"Okay... " Bono nodded, encouraging him.
"I don't want to stop doing this... I want to...
God, I just want everything to be better,
Bono."
"So do I. What else?"
"Else?"
"There's more, I know it."
Larry sighed. "Bono, seriously, just fuck off. You
expect too much of me."
"No, I don't. You think and feel and hurt a lot more
than you like to let on, Mullen. Now keep going."
Larry pursed his lips irritably and then looked down at
his feet. "I don't... I... "
"What, Larry? C'MON."
"I want you to be there for me," Larry blurted,
looking mortified at himself for saying it. "I... I
want you to... I just wanna be close to you. To all three
of you. I just... I want to feel like I can trust you
guys."
"Why do you feel like you can't?"
"I don't know."
"WHY?"
"I TOLD YOU, I DON'T FUCKING KNOW!"
Larry shouted at the top of his lungs, shoving Bono
against the wall with a clenched fist full of his shirt
and jacket.
Bono continued relentlessly, ignoring the vice grip Larry
had on his shirt. "WHY, Larry? What are you
scared of?"
Larry let go of Bono, making a pained face. "Fuck
off!"
"WHY LARRY?"
"Get off my fucking back!"
"Not until you tell me why."
"Will you just SHUT UP?"
"WHY LARRY?"
"Coz I'm afraid of losing you, all right?"
Larry screamed in Bono's face.
Bono froze and Larry reeled back against the other wall,
shocked at his own behavior.
Like some crazed animal who's been boxed in a
corner...
"God, I... I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yell and I
didn't mean to grab you."
"It's okay."
"No, it's not. I'm really, really sorry."
"It's all right, Larry."
Larry slid back down to sitting in the gravel, his head
in his hands. Bono knelt down in front of him, pulling
Larry's hands away to reveal fresh tears. Bono smiled
slightly.
"So you do feel, huh?"
"Of course I do. Jesus," Larry snapped, jerking
his hands away from Bono.
"Larry?"
"What?"
"... Why are you afraid of losing me? It's been
almost fifteen years now. I'm not going anywhere anytime
soon."
"My mom wasn't e-" Larry cut off his own sharp
retort and Bono's smile faded. "... Oh, no...
Larry... Larry, no."
"That's not what I meant to say," Larry mumbled
hastily.
"... I think it was."
Larry looked up at Bono and he shook his head.
"No... I stopped doing that... ages ago... "
"Larry... even if I die tomorrow... wouldn't it have
been worth it? I'd like to think it was," Bono asked
gently.
"Why? So I can love someone just for them to go
away?"
Bono rubbed his chin and then nodded. "Okay, but...
I mean, then you'll never have anyone, you see? I'd
rather have a whole wonderful week of being best friends
with someone like you than live my whole life keeping my
distance from you. You get what I'm saying?"
"Yes."
Bono watched him with worried eyes from a moment before
standing up and holding a hand out to him.
"Let's go inside where it's warm, eh? Edge came back
a while ago coz he couldn't sleep. Maybe we can play
something, huh?"
Larry took Bono's hand and stood up slowly. "Yeah...
maybe."
Bono smiled and pulled up the door. Larry didn't move.
"... You coming?"
Larry looked down at his feet, his cheeks turning red
once again.
Bono frowned. "Larry? Larry, what's wrong?"
Larry looked up at him, a curious glint in his eye,
"I think I must have imagined it, but... "
"Imagined what?"
"... I thought I heard you say I love you when I was
waking up just now."
"Oh?"
"Yeah and you were hugging me... "
"Was I?"
Larry's shoulders sank a bit. "So you weren't? I
mean... you didn't say that?"
Bono let the door close again and folded his arms, a
mischievous grin on his face. "What do you
think?"
Larry rolled his eyes, pushing past Bono for the door.
"Forget it... "
Bono grabbed his shoulder. "All right, all right.
Are you done?"
Larry eyed him a moment before nodding slowly.
"Of course I said it. And of course I hugged
you."
"Why?"
"Because I do love you and if I tried to hug
you when you're awake you have a gargantuan shit,"
Bono laughed.
"I would not."
"Oh, yes you would."
Larry gave him a quick, stiff hug, just to prove him
wrong.
"That, my friend, was pathetic. I've given better
hugs to interviewers," teased Bono.
Larry rolled his eyes again, but his annoyed scowl was
replaced by a shy smile. "Okay, okay!"
Larry gave Bono a much warmer, and surprisingly longer,
hug than the first. Bono nodded, letting him go.
"See? Now did you melt? Did your hair fall
out? No."
"Oh, shut up," Larry sighed; pulling the door
handle and holding the door open for Bono.
"It doesn't hurt to tell people you care about them,
you know. Love can leave just as easily as it can come.
You have to take care of it," Bono said softly.
Larry walked back into the somewhat warm studio, pulling
Bono in with him by the arm.
"I plan to take care of it, this time around...
don't worry," he replied as Bono threw a friendly,
cold arm over his shoulders.
"Come on... let's go piss our careers away."
Bono smirked.
Larry grinned. "... Just as long as I'm doing it
with you, that's fine with me."
You say
One love
One life
When it's one need
In the night
One love
We get to share it
Leaves you, baby
If you don't care
For it...
Adam let
out a loud breath of air, truly smiling for the first
time in weeks. He grinned over at Edge who was positively
glowing with happiness.
"That's amazing... will you listen to
that!" Adam exclaimed, overjoyed.
"I think we just saved U2," Edge said with
great relief in his voice.
Adam looked over at Bono. "Those are really great
lyrics, Bono. Your best yet, I'd have to say... captures
everything really well. Where on Earth you come up
with them?"
"Yeah, Bono," Larry interjected with a knowing,
shy smile. "Where on Earth did you come up
with them?"
Bono smiled back and shrugged, his hand tapping on the
mixing board to the beat. "Little bird."
"I hope that bird doesn't want royalties coz this is
incredible," Danny Lanois enthused excitedly
from next to Larry.
Larry looked at him and winked, "Trust me. He's
gonna get his royalties."
Danny looked back and forth between him and Bono a quick
second, his eyebrows raised. "... Oh."
"God, LISTEN TO THAT!" Edge sighed, thankful,
as he fiddled with the mixing board.
"The guitar, everything... we're geniuses!"
Adam joked.
"I think you guys are," Danny said honestly and
Bono whistled. "Danny, my man... you need to get out
more often."
All five laughed, laughter filled with relief and joy and
exhaustion, but most of all, plain happiness.
So miracles do exist...
"So... we're gonna make it?" Larry piped up.
"Well, I certainly hope so, or this is a waste of a
perfectly good song!" Edge replied.
"Hey, Edge, come over here... I want to show you
something we could use on that song
‘Ultraviolet'," Adam said eagerly, dragging
Edge by the arm into the recording room.
"Well, I'm gonna call Brian and get him down here to
hear this," Danny said quickly, racing out of the
room with a sudden light bounce in his step.
Larry stared at the door Danny had just left through,
emotions of happiness and elatedness filling his heart
and mind.
Salvation. God heard my prayer. Someone heard
my prayer.
"Hello Larry?"
Larry's eyes snapped back into focus and he looked over
at Bono. "S-sorry, what?"
"I said thank you."
Larry frowned. "For what?"
"For this song."
"I didn't do anything."
"C'mon... we both know where these lyrics came
from."
Bono heard my prayer.
Larry smiled a little. "They're wonderful, Bono. I
wish I could write like that."
"I wish I could play drums like you, so I guess
we're even, huh?" Bono said thoughtfully.
"I guess."
"... I'm gonna go see what Edge and Adam are
doing," Bono finally said, standing up and walking
for the door.
"... Hey Bono?" Larry turned sharply to face
him.
"Yeah?" Bono said, poking his head back in the
room.
"I... I love you."
Bono smiled affectionately at him and continued on into
the recording room. Larry watched the three play for ten
more minutes before finally leaving the control room and
slipping behind his drums to join in. They played in a
circle, Bono facing Larry and Edge facing Adam. Larry
watched Bono as he sang his heart out, watched Adam as he
bopped along silently to the beat, holding the band
together with his own heavy notes, watched Edge as he bit
his lip and squinted his eyes, trying to get a feel for
the melody and then looking up and smiling warmly at
Larry. Larry closed his eyes and fell slowly into the
song and into his muddled thoughts of home and friends
and going back on the road and being one again.
Okay. So maybe our circle is irregular and a bit rough
and totally different from all the others, but... it's our
circle.
And no one can ever take that away from us.
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