Charlie is a young, rising rock star, but behind the scenes, his life is falling apart. When he has a quick encounter with the girl next door, he finds himself remembering things that couldn't have possibly happened. The more he looks into it, trying to find out why these memories are occurring, the more he finds that the girl next door is the girl of his dreams. Literally. C/C. Warning for language, drug use, sexually content, possible violence and adult situations. You know, the good stuff.

Deja Vu

His skin felt hot, as if he were sitting to close to a fire. A feeling caused by blood rushing through his veins far to fast and in to many directions at once, causing a fierce friction beneath the surface. His eyes blinked open, feeling a strain at the edges. Something warm pulling trough them as he looked forward, seeing only his own hands in front of him, trembling above the sand. There was blood across his knuckles but he felt no pain.

All he could feel was the shaking. The shaking that traveled from the surface of his skin, from the tips of his fingers to the tips of his toes, and deep into the pit of his stomach. He lifted his head, feeling the sand drop from his cheeks, his hair, the hood of his jacket. Seeing a heap of destruction. A long stretch of gray metal propped on top of a dust black mass, and surrounding my flames.

Screams rang out all around him. Some scared, high feminine screeches, the type you'd hear in a horror movie. Others more masculine Shouts of names. Shouts of orders. Someone trying to bring authority to the chaos. Other in pain. Blood curdling screams that made you not only hear them but feel them. He pushed himself off the sand and onto shaky lags, struggling at first to keep his balance. But somehow he found both strength and balance.

Strangers run past with cuts on skin and fear on they're face. Some stained with tears, others stained with blood. And he stood directly in the center of it. Eyes squinted as he circled himself, taking in every sound around him. He wasn't in panic or afraid. He wasn't brave or heroic. He was just there. Just standing. Shaken and confused as both heroes and cowards rushed past him. And a thing that once flew burn furiously across the ground, letting out the worst screams of all. Harsh, high pitched, mechanic and mind-numbing. A constant ringing that left your temples pounding and made the reality seem almost like a dream.

A hand grabbed him by the shoulder and turned him on his back. His eyes open instinctively and he is face to face with a girl whom he unfortunately recognized. She had long blond hair that managed to fall in a think, almost Dred-lock type way, witch may the night before have looked fashionable, but now just looked dirty. She had the face of a girl who was once pretty, with nice soft skin and big green eyes. But now her skin was dry, far to pale, and a scar laid across one cheek. And those big green eyes were now glassy and sunken.

But she stared down at him with a playful smile, her hands perched above his shoulders, nails digging into the sheets. "Morning" He spoke, almost breathlessly. Either he was still burning on the side-effects of his dream or the wind had been knocked out of him when she so violently rolled him over.

"Morning" She replied, though it was muffled into his neck so it was a bit hard to understand. "Did you sleep good?" She questioned, talking directly into his ear. "Mh" He replied, not quite yet awake. He laid back into the pillow and closed his eyes for a moment, barely noticing the fact that a women was currently sucking the skin off his neck, and leaving quite a mark.

"Something wrong luv?" She questioned, stopping abruptly to look at him. "No, not at all" he assured, opening his eyes once again. "You sure?" She raised a pierced eye brow, testing him. "Absolutely" He confirmed with a grin, lifting his head just enough to meet hers in a small but convincing kiss.

"Good" She replied with a teasing grin as she lifted herself into a sitting position, letting the thin sheet fall from her body barring all that would ever want to be scene.

"So...you've got to get up soon. You've got practice in an hour" She reminded, running her hands down his bare chest. He rolled his eyes and gave an estranged moan in protest. "Aw, don't look so upset" She teased with a childish voice and a pout that twisted its way into a suggestive grin. "We can get a lot done in one hour"

"I don't think I can fall back to sleep" He noted, sarcastically, laying his head back on the pillow. "I'm not talking about sleeping" She confirmed, lowering herself onto him once again. She pressed her nicotine-stained lips agents his neck and slowly worked her way down.

"Well, I wish I could help you luv, but I don't really think I'm awake enough to-" at that moment he physically contradicted himself. It hadn't happened in so long, he didn't think it was possible. Well, that wasn't quite true. It happened all the time when he was alone, just not around her. His brother said it was because he was conceded, but that wasn't the case. At least, not all of it.

The case was that the women he had wasted the last year with no longer attracted him at all. He couldn't even remember how he'd managed to get off on her in the first place. Probably because she was thin, female, and there. Had he become that much of a dick? Apparently not. Because no matter how much he hated the way he could smell the smoke and bear on her breath, or the way her hair fell in little dreads, or the way she insisted on wearing heels not matter the situation, he still cared for her.

Some where in this broken, drunken, intoxicated women was a girl. One who was once very pretty, and very sweet, and probably had a lot of potential. She'd just been ruined. Beaten down by everything around her. So she sank into the sea of drugs and the longing for attention, that was easily fulfilled by the man beneath her. In reality, she was him.

Life had beaten her down and turned her into an angry, sad, druggie and a whore. Just as it had done with him. If he hated her, he would be hating himself. And that was something that he was not about to do, not concisely any ways. But in his defense, he was still better off than her.
He didn't sleep around quite as much, and didn't approach sex with such a casual appeal, or with spiked heals for that matter. He didn't need a bump before every fuck, and he never, ever shoot up. Perhaps that's why he kept her around. She made him look good, witch at this moment, was a very hard thing to do.

"HI mum, I'd like you to meek my coked up girl friend. Note the track marks and lack of showers and that wonderful smell of smoke and bear, and the fact that she's next to ass naked in a brightly collard halter top, no bra, short cut-off skirt that was once full a pair of jeans, and heels that could be used as a murder weapon. I know, I have scares to prove it"

He smiled in amusement at the little thought. See, his mum would freak, but at least it would take the attention off of him. But alas, he'd been thinking to much and thus ruined the moment. "Uh, Charlie...?"

Her voice shook him back into reality. Sad, he hadn't even realized it. God, now he couldn't even pay attention during sex. This was not cool. "Sorry" He muttered, not really knowing how to respond in this situation. She rolled her eyes and climbed off him, and off the bed entirely. "You know, I'm getting relay tired of this, Lima" She noted disappointedly, picking up one of his shirts off the floor and pulling it on.

"Charlie. My name is Charlie" he reminded, finding a perfectly settling loop hole to take the attention off of himself. "I know what your damn name is" She snapped in reply, struggling to button up the shirt. "Well, I'd prefer you don't call me by my brother's name when were having sex. Its bad enough your screwing him behind my back-" He began, sitting up in bed so that the sheets perfectly covered the contents of his lap, as if she hadn't scene it a thousand times. Hell, a moment ago she was face to face with it. Literally.

"Well, were not really having sex, are we!...thanks to you" She shoot back in reply, a cigarette already lit in hand. Even the little puff of smoke that followed when she smoked looked angry. But as her temper, it would disappear into thin air with in a moment as if it had never appeared in the first place.

"And I'm sorry about that...believe me" He replied almost jokingly, throwing his feet over the side of the bed. "I just need too wake up or throw up or something" He explained, feeling the sudden ach of a hang over hitting him right between the eyes.

"Yeah, right. I know exactly what you need. Its on the dresser. Have fun, I'll be in the shower" she explained bitterly, before walking herself and those trashy heels off into the bath room and slamming the door behind her. He took a deep breath and rubbed his temple, trying to clear his head, resisting the urge to yell the word finally. It would be to late any ways, and it was to early to start a fight.

So now he was impatient and alone, in bed, naked, hung over, and dirty while unable to shower. She knew what he needed, and she was right. He leaned over and lifted the little baggy off of the dresser and dumped a small portion of the powder into his hand. Now he needed drugs before sex. It was getting worse. No time for that now. He had to get up, do something. Anything.

"Hey, you better not-" Eaden appeared in the door way of the bath room, surprised to see him standing right in front of her. "Hi" He grinned, starring into her eyes, though a little off focus, his hand pressed against the door frame. She smiled at him for a moment before warping her arms around his neck and pulling him in.

later...

The dream was a reality, though it had kind of lost the magic. He still had the adrenaline rush, though some time he simply blamed it on the heroine. He sat on the dusty old couch back stage with a bottle of bear in his hand and his so-called girlfriend on his lap, currently making eyes with his brother who stood at the bar as if he weren't sitting right there. Right under her in fact. He clinched the bottle in his hand and tried to ignore it.

Why he got so pissed off about it, he didn't know. After all, he didn't love the girl, not even close. at least, that's what he told himself. How could he care about a women who didn't even care about herself? He took a sip of his bear, all the while keeping an eye on his brother. Giving him the silent warning. But Liam would never catch on. He had no moral values. Probably couldn't even pronounce moral values drunk as he was.

And there she was, sipping on her little hot pink straw, looking straight at him. Begging for Liam's attention, because his wasn't enough. Not any more. He couldn't take it any more. If she wanted to ride his brothers lap at night, she could get her ass off his. He gave her a nudge, indicating that he was getting up. He managed to slip out from under her with little effort, after all she only weighed about 90 pounds.

"Hey!" She muttered in a delayed reaction as her ass hit the couch. "Where are you going?" She questioned, moving the long stringy hairs out of her face to look up at him. "I'll be back" He replied, and walked off without another word. Where he was going, he didn't know. Past the crowd and down the hall, into the bath room where it would be safe to pull out that little baggy from his shoe and take a hit. It would calm him down for a while. Take his mind off things.

"Hey kid, whatca' doing?"

The voice startled him so much that he nearly knocked the baggy off the counter. He looked up and saw that it was only Tommy, and took a heavy sigh of relief. "Wow. aren't we jumpy" Tommy noted teasingly, steeping over the odd jacket that had been left on the floor. "Care to share?"

Charlie nodded and nudged the baggy to him, leaning back agents the wall momentarily. The high had hit him hard this time. And that little scare didn't help much. The way his heart just stopped, literally stopped when Tommy walked in, it was terrifying. But the pounding in his chest told him he was no where near dying, and the lightheaded dizzy feeling that rushed over him told him that he needed to calm down.

"Woo man, sit" Tommy instructed, is voice echoing through the empty bathroom. Charlie's eyes opened in confusion. "What?"

"You've got a bit of a bloody nose thing going on. Sit down" Tommy explained, motioning to the floor as if talking to a dog. Charlie lifted his hand to the bottom of his nose, feeling something warm, wet and sticky. He pulled it away long enough to see a little stain of blood on his skin. His eyes widened in confusion.
"
Sit down man, before you hurt yourself" Tommy insisted. "No, its OK. I'm fine. I just inhaled to much. You scared the shit out of me" He explained, his mind already racing. "You sure? You look kind of...Over-dosey" Tommy noted, eyeing his friend in concern. Charlie rolled his eyes. "I didn't over dose...'s my first hit all day" He assured, reaching for the little bag, and missing terrible.

"You sure?" Tommy raised an eye brow skeptically "yes" He insisted, managing to get a hold of the little piece of plastic "you done?" He asked, already twisting it shut. "yeah" Tommy nodded, watching him absent absent-mindedly as he pulled off his shoe and tucked the baggy inside before sliding it back onto his foot.

He hopped down from the counter and headed towards the door. "Later, man" He called, giving a pathetic excuse of a wave before pushing himself through the door. He walked down the hall way and back through the crowd to the couch where he had left Eaden. Unfortunately, someone had taken his place. A whole group of people in fact. One, most importantly being his brother, with his arm around her shoulder in a way that made him sick.

No matter what, she was always under his arm. She fit so nicely. And now he was going to have to sit by and watch. Fuck that. He stormed into the little circle, covered by a veil of smoke and walled by about eleven coughing, drunken men.

"Come on" he instructed simply, stopping in front of Eaden. She looked up at him in confusion for a moment. "Come on, were going" He explained, reaching for her hand. "I'm not going any where" She confirmed moodily, ripping her arm away. "Yeah, kid. The party just started. Sod off" Liam slurred before covering his mouth with a bear bottle.

Charlie took in a deep breath, holding back the urge to reach across her and choke the life out of his own brother. "Fine...fine" he replied, before defensively walking away. He pushed his way through the crowd and out of the stage exit, into the cold night air. He leaned back agents the brick wall and hugged himself to keep warm. It was dark and cold, and he was outside alone. He could cry, but that would be to cliche.
"S' the matter?"

He looked up in a bit of a daze to see Jeramy, his fellow guitar playing, standing before him. "Did you see them in there?" Charlie questioned, raising an eye brow. "Yeah. Pretty brutal" Jeramy nodded sympathetically. "No kidding" he agreed, lowering his head. "Look, man. Don't worry about them. Lets go inside, get you another bump and a drink, find some nice little revenge groupie and make a night of it" Jeramy suggested, pulling his arm around him.

"What do you say?"

"No groupies. No sex. but a bear, defiantly"

"Deal" Jeramy smiled and walked him back inside.

Four bears and three hits later, Charlie was feeling worse than ever. He sat with his arms crossed on the bar, forehead resting on them like a shaky, uncomfortable pillow. "You want another one?" Jeramy slurred, waving the little shot glass in his hand. "No..." he assured, lifting his head and pausing to lets his eye adjust from the sudden movement. "I'm gonna go home" He confirmed with a sigh, sliding off of the stool.

"Wait man. Your a little drunk. Lemme drive" Jeramy offered, reaching out to lay his hand on Charlie's shoulder, but simply fell of his stool instead. "Good night, Jeramy" Charlie smiled, and walked away, leaving his friend on the floor. He drove home with no accidents, not even close. He knew his limits. Besides, heroine never really messed with his driving skills. It usually just helped him clear his mind, not lose it. Not the like it did with Eaden and Liam. Give those two a couple hits and they go stark-raving mad. Even worse, if you don't give it to them though.

He marched up the steps to his apartment, the elevator was broken as usual. He walked down the hall with hands shoved into the pocket of his jeans until he reached the door, removing one to search the pocket of his coat for the key and to open the door. He tossed the key onto the little end table near the door and tossed his coat onto the floor. He slipped off his shoes and fell into bed, letting his body sink into the mattress.

He closed his eyes, and tried to fall asleep. It didn't seem to be working. He was to awake. To angry. To high. Either way, he wasn't going to be sleeping any time soon. So he opened his eyes once again and threw his feet over the side of the bed, looking around the room for something to do. The room seemed different to him, somehow. It was still just as messy, but it felt cleaner. As if the nicotine stains had been striped from the walls. The sheets on his bed had been washed and the pillows fluffed. Every thing felt scrubbed and warm and comfortable.

Even the carpet beneath his feet felt softer. As if someone came in while he was out and put in a no rug. He walked over to his guitar case witch was propped up against what he assumed was a chair, hiding somewhere beneath a heap of dirty laundry. Note to self, do laundry. He pulled out his guitar and carried it out onto the small little balcony, feeling the cold night air hit him soon as he opened the door. The stone felt cool beneath his bare feet and the icy air chilled his insides. As he sat down on the edge rail, not flimsy and metallic like most apartment balconies, but thick and stone just as the floor, he could almost smell the cold.

The weather like this wasn't uncommon, and the smell was extremely familiar. It smelled like ice and snow. Like Manchester England smelled day in and day out. It smelled like home. He spent a lot of nights out on the balcony, especially since his sex life had fallen into hiatus. He stretched his legs out and crossed his heels so his bare feet lay just over the edge of the rail, and laid his guitar across his lap. He began to play Strawberry fields, his all time favorite.

He wasn't in the mood to hear one of his own songs. To many memories attached. To much connection to his brother who was probably out banging his girlfriend just as his fingers ripped against the chords. No, he needed to hear a classic. Something strong and meaningful, and just for him. Not the song in particular, but the effect it had on him. One that stayed with him since he first heard it in elementary school. One so strong that he actually had a lyric tattooed to his skin.

And for the reasonable reason of what the hell, he sang. Very soft at first, not wanting to disturb the quiet around him. Just enough for his own ears to hear. "Let me take you down cause I'm going to strawberry fields..." he could hear a break in his voice that came with singing so quietly. To close to a whisper to keep a melody. He decided to raise it just a little bit. What the hell, no one's out here any ways.

"Nothing is real..." There, that was better. Still quiet. Not loud or obnoxious, or in any way disturbing. Just enough sound to satisfy himself. Make him forget the little things and find some inspiration. "And nothing to get hung about..." Someone was listing. He glanced over, feeling a little embarrassed at first. Seeing a pretty young girl in the balcony next to his. She wasn't actually listening. Or if she was, she didn't look like it.

Her palms were placed across the rail of her balcony, evenly spaced, giving her support to lean on. She faced the city before her, eyes wondering the seen and yet remaining perfectly still. A perfect profile to his view, with long, blond, cold-curled hair. To long to hold a bounce, but still maintained a silky, heavy wave. Her face was soft, a bit to pale, but that may just have been from the moon light.

Her face was blank. Full of emotion, yet to tired to show it. She looked cold, drained, numb to the world. "Strawberry fields forever..." He finished the line without realizing that the entire time his eyes hand been fixed on her. She must have heard him, because there was a slight glitch in her demeanor. He expression softened just a bit. Some color returned to her cheeks. Her eyes shifted just slightly, before she gradually turned hear head in his direction.

He looked back down at his hands as if he hadn't even noticed her. With some luck, she would know the words. She could hear him and make some sort of connection. Small in the most, but perhaps it would be enough just to help her grab hold of some insight. Look at things through different eyes.

Right now, here's seemed to heavy. To strained. And for some unknown reason, everything protective and male in him rose up and flooded him with an overwhelming need to ease her discomfort. And though his the feeling did surprise him, he did a masterful job of not showing. He just looked down at his hand, just as cool and numb as before, and he sang.

"Living is easy with eyes closed, misunderstanding all you see..." He managed to see her without actually looking. Keeping his head low, letting the shadows fall just right, so that she couldn't tell that he was watching her out of the corner of his eye. She face him, her whole body turned in his direction. Her hands lay at her side and her eyes opened wider. As if the sight of him had some sort of meaning witch he could in no way have known. Perhaps another Beatles fan?

"Its getting harder to be someone, but it all works out...It doesn't matter much to me..." Something in her eyes seemed way to familiar. So genuinely known that he had to look up. He had to meet with them. Look directly into them. And their round, blue gaze lifted him if just for a second. But he felt it, so unreasonable real. He hadn't moved an inch but his whole body had lifted, especially his heart. It jumped up and plopped into his throat, leaving him blank and dumbfounded.

The connection broke when he heard the slightest gasp. She didn't open her mouth and she barely made a sound. But it was in her trough and in her eyes, witch grew involuntarily wide at the sight of him. Her surprise startled him, and before he could open his mouth, or close it, in order to speak, she turned. Fast as lightning she turned and grabbed the handled to the sliding glass door. With a jerk of her hand a twirl of her long blond hair she disappeared. The glass slammed behind her and sent a jolt back to his heart with aloud it to beat once again.

The feeling was all to strange, and once he got the since to move, he jumped. He hopped of the rail and onto his feet, and rushed into the privacy of his own room, where no one could witness the expression on his face. He didn't know what he was feeling or how to explain it, even to himself. It was shocking, really. A girl he had made no contact with in his entire life making such an impact on him.

And the strangest thing was, he left like he knew her. Not as if he had once known her, but that he actually knew her. Knew every hair on her head, every pore on her skin, every twitch and movement and all the reasons behind them. It was as if he'd been inside her in every meaning of the phrase. And as he laid flat on his back on the spring of his mattress that was feeling all the more none-existant, the questioned whispered trough his head.

Why did she run? Maybe she was embarrassed. Maybe she was frustrated, and wanted to be alone. Maybe she was feeling the exact same thing he was. No, that's insane. He Sat up and pulled off his shirt, struggling to drag the blankets out from under him and wrap them around his body. He slammed his head into his pillow, trying to knock the thought out of his brain.

He leaned over, turning off the light, and gripped the comforter. He squeezed his eyes shut, focusing on what ever popped into his head, and soon, the thought was gone. Soon he was asleep, and completely oblivious to that strange feeling. To the incident in its self. But as he fell asleep, a new thought crept into his head, and took over his imagination.

Thoughts of a jungle. Of an island and a monster. A beach and a disaster. Thoughts that made no since and seemed so real that he could taste them. Reach out and touch them. And most of all, thoughts of the girl...

he had to know more