No Title.

ONE

It's one of those things you don't ever forget- losing a best friend. There's something about it that you never think it'll be that bad. But when you've been friends for four years, and everything falls apart- it kills you. It tears you up inside and out. You can't sleep, you can't eat, you can't do anything but think about the person you lost. Are they okay? Are they happy? Are they.... are they being loved?
At least this is what I did when I lost Chelsea.
We met freshman year of college. It was a warm fall day on campus and I was absolutely terrified. My major was something I knew nothing about, plus, I was coming from a small town to London. Oh, and I had absolutely no friends. My intentions were to go to college and form a band with some friends- little did I know how far that would take me.
A little after I moved into my dorm I went for a walk to get used to the layout. The buildings were plain, brick, and kind've boring. Everything else around us was beautiful, though. London was honestly my favorite place to be, ever since I was a kid.
It got much more beautiful, though.
I turned the corner to the women's dorms and saw a site that would change my life forever. There Chelsea was, frantically climbing out of an old Mini Cooper with a huge box of clothes in one hand, and what looked like a map in the other. Her hair was tied up, and even though she looked like she was about to faint she was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen. I acted casual, and continued walking down the sidewalk as she crossed in front of me to the front of the dorms, muttering something to herself. Suddenly, I noticed something fall out of the top of her box.
An incredibly sexy black laced bra.
I didn't know what to do. This was obviously a great way to start a conversation, but she was obviously frustrated, and would barely know I'm there. I went with my insticts, picked up the bra as appropriately as possible, and ran after her. "Uhm, miss?" I panted, as I caught up to her side. "I think you dropped this."
As she turned around to look at the bra, I got a better look at her. She was absolutely stunning. Long, curly brown hair, hazel eyes, and a beautiful smile. I waited as she looked down at the bra, up at me, then down at the bra again. "Ahh, shit." she said, throwing her box down.
"What?" I said, slightly confused.
She smiled. "The first good looking British guy I meet and he sees my bra before he even knows my name. Fuck. You wanna go get a beer?"
She was so different. So sociable, warm, and fun to talk to. I knew that we'd be great friends.
The thing is, she never knew that ever minute we were together I fell more and more in love with her.
Living with her was a living hell. She was great, but having to deal with her dates was terrible. She didn't date too many guys, which was good, but when she did, I couldn't do anything. I'd be so worried that this guy would be "the one" since I'd waited yet another day to tell her how I felt. I'd sit in the apartment all day. I couldn't eat. I couldn't sleep. I'd just worry.
Thankfully, they were all a bunch of wankers, so she didn't go past a few months with each.
One and a half year, and she still didn't know a thing. I'd made all these crazy theories in my head like, she felt the same way, or she's a lesbian or something. Whatever it was, I didn't care, I was just dying to tell her how I felt.
We were going to watch a football match at my best friend Jon's one night. It was a little after my band and I found out we were getting a record deal, so things between Chelsea and I were a little off. She's a musician too, and didn't get a record deal yet. I hoped she didn't hate me, but knowing Chelsea, I was sure she was acting odd because she thought I would act odd.
I didn't do anything that night. There'd been so many open doors for me to ask her to talk in private, and I didn't say a word. I bit my tongue so hard at times it bled. She even, what seemed to me, flirted a little.
But you know what I did?
I did what I do best.
I left.
We drifted apart after that. I became incredibly busy with world tours, paparazzi, press and making new albums. Chelsea got a record deal a few years later and became one of the most successful solo artists of our generation.
But I was still in love with her.
After ten years of not seeing her, I finally got the chance to tell her how I felt.

TWO

A month or two after finishing the incredibly long Viva La Vida world tour, I got a call from a good friend of mine. A good friend named Alicia Keys. She was calling me to ask if I'd perform at her Charity ball in a couple weeks. With nothing else to do, I agreed. Maybe I'd finally meet someone who got my mind off Chelsea.
"There's one thing." She said, kind've quietly.
I asked what.
"Uhm," she said. "Chelsea OBrick is going to be there."
My jaw fell right to the floor. "Do you know where she's staying?"
"Well, she lives in Los Angeles but Chris, she's e-"
Whatever Alicia was going to say didn't matter to me. I slammed the phone down and headed out to the first flight possible to LA.
I didn't bring anything, which was kind've stupid. I had just enough money to rent a standard room at the Hilton in LAX, but no change of clothes, no guitar, just the clothes on my back. Maybe that was best.
After just a few hours of online searching of Beverly Hills homes I found hers. A beautiful, Spanish style home on the very edge of the city. It fit her perfectly.
It was much hotter there than I expected, and as usual, the city was crowded with rich, snobby people. There seemed no reason to me why Chelsea would choose Los Angeles. She could work and live wherever she wanted, and always raved when we were younger about how she hated big cities. This worried me. I was afraid that she'd changed.
I got very nervous on the ride over. We hadn't spoken in just about ten years, so who knows how she'd react. If I were her, I'd punch me in the face. But I really hoped that wasn't what she'd do. I just needed to let her know.
Sweat. Lots and lots of sweat as I parked in front of her house, and walked up the driveway. Two cars were visible through the garage windows. One, a gigantic black SUV. Being a celebrity, everyone has those... I guess.
And in the other window I could see a familiar car.
That old, red and white 1962 Mini Cooper.
It was then, that I knew, I had the right house.
Three knocks, and my stomach flipped like a pancake.
There were footsteps, rustling and some talking behind the door in front of me. I tried to stay calm, and I tried to act cool. But the truth was, I was smiling and sweating like an idiot. Suddenly, I heard the latch unlock, and standing in front of me, was nothing near what I expected.
Standing in front of me was a man. Six foot one or two, with short brown hair, and some gray in the front. Bright blue eyes, wearing a blue dress shirt, jeans, and tennis shoes. For some reason, he looked really familiar. "Can I help you?" he asked.
I shook my head. "Oh, yeah, uhm, does Chelsea OBrick live here?"
"Yes," He smiled. "she's upstairs. Who can I tell her you are?"
Be nice, Chris, be nice. I stuck my hand out. "Chris Martin, an old friend from college."
He smiled. "Hi Chris. I'm Chase. Chelsea's fiancee."
At that point, I could've really used a scotch.

THREE

I probably should've known. She's such a wonderful girl, she's exposed to all this handsome celebrities... I should've known that someone wasn't as stupid as I was. Engaged. She's engaged.
Chase had gone upstairs to get Chelsea as I sat on their velour couch, that was probably the size of my bathroom. The house was gorgeous. Pastel colored walls, super vintage, artsy statues and paintings were hung everywhere, I was sure by Chelsea's doing. Chase didn't seem like the... well... I didn't really know Chase at all, but I already wanted him dead.
Footsteps started to come down the stairs. One louder than the other... the clicking of heels. I stared at the door. This was wrong. Chris, get out. This isn't right you shouldn't be here. She's ENGAGED!
"Chris?"
Her voice was music to my ears. I looked up, and there she was, standing about five feet away from me. Her hair was much shorter, and curly. But her face. Her face was the same. She had that same smile across her face. The same one I saw ten years ago.. when I left. She was dressed in a black, sparkled t-shirt, stockings and her favorite boots. God, she hadn't changed.
I didn't konw how she'd react. If I were her, I'd kick myself out. But she did the complete opposite. She ran up to me and embraced me for a hug. I couldn't believe it. Chelsea. Chelsea was back in my arms. It was like nothing had changed. For that moment, she wasn't engaged.
"I can't believe it!" She said, laughing. "How've you been? How's the guys?"
She was looking up at me like I was a prized jewel worth millions. I pushed a curl of hair out of her face. "Fantastic. We're all fantastic."
"Ooh wonderful!" She laughed, and sat down on the couch next to me. "So tell me, tell me what's been going on? Heard you finished a big world tour."
I tried to smile. "Just heard you're engaged."
For some reason, I thought I saw a flash of remorse. Then, she smiled brightly, and held out her left hand. "Yep!"
I gasped. There was a beautiful, giant diamond ring engulfing Chelsea's finger. "It's... it's great!"
She nodded.
"So, uhm. When is the big day?" Please don't say soon. Please don't say soon.
"Well," Chelsea looked around, obviously looking for Chase. "I've been engaged for three years."
My heart danced. I didn't know what to say. Her bright, hazel brown eyes stared striaght through me. "Listen Chris," she looked worried. "can we go somewhere and talk? Like, catch up?"
I smiled. "After you."
Chelsea got changed into a t shirt and jeans, and took me to her favorite spot in the city. Hollywood Hill. It was quite the beautiful place. Giant rolling, dusty hills all around, looking down on the enormous city that looks so peaceful from up so high. But I was worried about Chelsea. She didn't talk the entire walk up there, and the fact that the subject of her engagement was so frightening scared me.
All I knew was if he was beating her, I was going to kill him.


FOUR
December 24th, 1998.
Chris is 21, Chelsea is 19.

"Have yourself a merry little Christmas," I sung. "let your heart be light."
I could feel her eyes on me as I sung the beginning of that classic Christmas song. The snow was insanely heavy outside, and we were alone in the college auditorium, rehearsing for tomorrow night's Christmas concert. I can honestly say it was the most fun I'd had in a long time. We'd gotten a few coffees beforehand and were on a caffiene rush, then we had to head off to my best friend Phil's Christmas party. It was great to have the whole night with her. No girlfriends wanting to gossip, no boyfriends wondering why we hung out so much... yup, just the two of us.
"Ahh, shit." I mumbled as I forgot the words at the end of the song.
Chelsea snorted as I just hummed the tune, and the last strum of my guitar faded out. "Very good," she yelled from the darkness in front of me. "Sinatra would be proud."
I chuckled. "Is that it? Have we gone through the setlist?"
She appeared slowly from the darkness of the stage lights and walked up the steps. "Yep, I think we're done here."
As I began to pack up our guitars, I noticed Chelsea was just staring at me. I looked up, she blushed and looked down at my feet. "What?" I said insecurely.
She looked up at me. Her bright, hazel colored eyes were shining brightly. She was wearing a bright red dress that complimented her chestnut brown hair perfectly. But those eyes. I could get lost in those eyes.
"N....nothing." She finally said, and sharply turned back to the front of the stage, packing up her gear. "Excited for the party?"
What was that about? Is there something on my face? "Not really." I chuckled. "You?"
"Yes!" She said happily. "I think it'll be fun."
"It's Phil."
"Eh, okay, maybe not. But I am excited to see what you got me for Christmas."
I smiled, thinking of the present that was now awaiting Chelsea under Phil's Christmas tree. "Me too."
---
It took us about twenty minutes to run to Chelsea's house through the pouding white snow. We talked the entire time about the gig, songs we'd do, and the party tonight. I couldn't help but think there was something different in her voice. What was up with her just staring at me?
We dropped off our stuff, and Chelsea decided to make some tea before we left for the party.
It was half past seven when I made myself comfortable on Chelsea's couch. "So," I frowned. "how's things with that Josh guy?"
She moaned loudly from the kitchen. "He's out."
My heart fluttered.
Chelsea walked into the room and put a hot cup of tea on the table in front of me. "I just..." she sighed. "I don't get you men."
"We're quite confusing." I joked.
Chris, do it. Tell her. This is the perfect moment. "Chels,"
She looked up, and smiled brightly at me from across the couch.
My stomach was flipping. I stood up and started to pace the room. Chelsea started to look worried. "Chris, are you okay?"
SPEAK!
I grabbed her hand and pulled her in for a kiss. It was even more amazing than I'd imagined all these years. Her tongue was so soft, her lips, so delicate. Suddenly, something happened that was never in my dreams.
She pulled back.
Her eyes were filled with confusion, but she was still about an inch away from my face. She gently put a hand on my cheek, and kissed me again.
Oh, how perfect this moment was.

Present Day.

Did I forget to mention that?
Yeah, I kissed her. She kissed me back, and we never really talked about it again. Part of me thinks she thought I was drunk, the other part of me thinks that she just didn't know what to say. Funny, I had no idea what to say either. No idea for ten years.
Chelsea sat down in front of me, smiling just like she did that Christmas Eve. "Sit." She said. "Talk."
I caught her up on everything that'd been going on in my life, except my dying love for her, of course. I talked about the band, my family, past girlfriends that never worked, and new music I was making. The sun slowly danced across the hilltops as I talked for hours.
"Your turn." I laughed, coughing as my voice got sore.
She was silent. "I don't really know what to say."
I laughed out loud. "Chelsea, you're a rock star! You're life is every musician's dream!"
There was something in her eyes that I'd never seen before- regret. She stared straight ahead as I adjusted myself so I could see her face. "Chels.... what's going on?"
"Sometimes..." her eyes welled. "sometimes I feel like I don't even know my own fiancee. We met at one of his games and I tell you Chris, he was a charmer. He made me laugh, showed me all the steps, and worked all the moves. I really felt like I knew him well but, I think I was just feeling... vunerable? Oh god, you probably think I'm insane."
"Go on." I demanded.
She nodded. "We really don't have any of the same interests. I like art, he likes sports. I like music, he likes trucks. I like Italian, he likes Chinese. I get along with...well... I have much more in common with you than my own fiancee."
Could this become a good time?
"Chris. Am I making a bad decision?"
"I'm in love with you."

FIVE

The look of shock, anger, and suprise on Chelsea's face made me ache. Tears were welling in her eyes, and her jaw was completely dropped. She hadn't said anything, which made me wish the last five minutes never happened.
"Well say something." I said, feeling my face get flushed. "Please say something."
She was as pale as paper, and I considered just sprinting down the hill as fast as I could and lying down on a highway.
"W..." she was thinking hard about what to say. "what do you expect me to say to that?"
I love you too! I'll break of the engagement now! Let's run away together! "I don't know." I mumbled.
The feeling of her hand on my knee made me tingle. "Chris, your friendship means everything to me. I know we had some awkward times back in college but I-"
"Don't say that." I was sobbing like a baby at this point, now knowing her answer. "No, don't say that. I want to be more than that."
Silence.
"I'm having problems with my engagment but, not enough to call it off."
That was enough. I needed out. I nodded, wiped a tear off my cheek and began to walk as fast as I could back down the track. Knowing how mature and smart she was, I knew she wouldn't chase me. But I was still hoping that she might call me later.
I sat in my hotel room and cried. I just didn't care anymore. There was plenty of booze in the mini bar to keep me busy as I wept. The love of my life had just rejected me...again.

Chelsea's POV

I couldn't believe it. It was pretty strange how he'd just suddenly showed up at my door without even saying goodbye so many years ago. He was a big star, I was engaged, and he just told me he loved me.
And I think I feel the same way.
But you know what I did? I rejected him.
All I could see was his face- Chase's face- that face he gives me when he's angry. His blue eyes turn red with anger, his fists clench tightly, and the veins in his arms began to show. I know that if I told him I was leaving him, he'd probably kill Chris and I both. Why did I just let him go, though? He was crying. Crying! All the years I'd known the man, the only time I saw him cry was the night we watched Titanic.
It's just the way things had to be. I said yes that Valentine's Day night Chase proposed. Chris left without even saying goodbye. Maybe I could go and work things out. Just don't kiss him, Chelsea. As much as you might want to.
I couldn't stop thinking about Chris the rest of that night. Chase didn't really mind since he was on his cell phone all night, as he usually is. The bedroom was pitch black as I laid in bed, my back as stiff as a board, staring at the ceiling. Light poured into the room as Chase stumbled in. It took me about three seconds to realize that he'd been drinking while I was gone. "Where'd Chris go?" he mumbled.
"Just went back to his hotel." I turned away, trying to hide my tears. I wanted Chris to come to this bed, not Chase. Not Chase.
I could feel the bed sink as Chase climbed in. The smell of his breath made my face cringe as he kissed my shoulder. "You okay?"
"Yeah, just tired." I lied.
He mumbled some reply into my back that I couldn't understand, then I felt him climb on top of me. "Chase, no." I grumbled. "Chase not tonight."
Chase didn't reply, and with every push of his chest he pulled closer to me, putting his hands up my shirt and sloppily pressing his lips against mine. He wouldn't stop. With every moan, and plea, and cry he got even worse. He pushed my legs apart with his knee and began to tear my jeans open. Fabric was tearing, and tears were streaming down my face as I pleaded and cried for him to stop, but couldn't do anything to change my fate. He was going to get what he wanted, in more ways than one.
Suddenly, an idea hit me. I reached toward the lamp table for the alarm clock and slammed it over Chase's head as hard as I could. He yelled in pain, pulled away from me and fell backwards onto the floor. I was absolutely traumatized. The man I was going to marry just tried to rape me.

Chris's POV
I was sloppily singing along to "Sympathy For the Devil" as it blasted over the radio. My head was spinning, but Chelsea was the only thing on my mind. I wondred if she was okay. Chase didn't seem like he was right for her at all, but I didn't know him nearly long enough to figure out what exactly was wrong with him.
My thoughts were interrupted by a pounding knock on the door. Who the hell could that be? The guys were all spending time with their families.
It was Chelsea standing behind that door, but she looked terrible. Her makeup was smeared all over her face, she was sweating like crazy and her clothes were torn. She was wearing enormous sunglasses to most likely hide from the paparazzi. "Turns out I do want to be more than just friends." She said. "My fiancee just attacked me, and I really need some comfort right now and... I just, I'm sorry."
Attacked. That was all I could think about. I didn't care about how she'd rejected me, all that went through my mind was that word. Attacked. I was furious.
Chelsea came into my room and told me about everything that'd happened. I convinced her to call the police, and the police gave the press a fake name so the media wouldn't find out. They went to her former house and arrested Chase for attempted rape. When the police left, I really didn't know what we'd talk about. Chelsea had changed into one of my old Bruce Springsteen shirts and some sweatpants, and stared at me like there was something on her mind. "What?" I smiled, slightly drunkenly.
"I'm in love with you too." She said, running her fingers under my chin. "I'm sorry I didn't say anything before I just, for some reason, wanted to make Chase happy. Now I know that man will be never happy unless he gets exactly what he wants, and he wants me to be his sex slave. Chris, you're my best friend and there's no one else I'd rather spend my life with. I love you."
And then, I realized. Chase and I are pretty alike.
We're never happy until we get exactly what we want.