[TW: exploration of suicide attempt]

After that discussion with Jake and Scott, I found that I could now think of my suicide attempt in a sort of detached way. Those memories were very real, but I could be subjective. As such, I was able to realize how lucky I was to still be alive. I learned after the fact that I actually was pretty close to death. Those first twenty-four hours, even though I was awake, were a large question mark.

Yet I had made it, and that made me smile now.

It was a glorious, strange thing. I had never been happy for myself, really. I always thought everything I had accomplished happened to me by sheer luck. I had convinced myself that I was always teetering on the edge of failure. More so, I didn't think I deserved anything good, because--remember?--there was something inherently wrong with me?

Yet here I was--internationally famous rock star. I had creature comforts. Through it all, I had a really supportive, core group of friends. I had gone through Hell, but Jake, Ben, and Gloria had willingly walked besides me.

So it was with that newfound confidence that I gave my personal interview with Scott that summer, a couple months after shaking hands with my past and calling a spade a spade. I had put on a suit like Scott had told me to, and showed up. And I spoke sincerely, and I allowed myself to be honest.

I was happy knowing thousands of people had watched me be the most vulnerable I'd ever been publicly, live. I was thrilled even more had seen it on YouTube. Within that first day, it garnered 14k thumbs up on the official Saturn Mutants YouTube account.

When the interview is done, and Scott still has his arm slung around my shoulders, and we're grinning at the camera, someone off to the side says the feed isn't broadcasting anymore. The second those words are spoken, I absolutely dissolve into tears. And it's ugly, and I don't even care. And Scott is holding me, and honestly I don't even know why I'm sobbing.

"It's okay, mate," Scott says directly into my ear, swaying us slightly. "You did a fantastic job."

I nod, but I feel like I can't stand anymore, so I sink to the ground. Legs crossed, I hold my head. Scott sits across from me.

"Why didn't you tell me Tris was a guy?" Scott asks gently.

I glare at him. "Did it matter?"

"No! I mean, not that he's a guy. I'm just a little sad you weren't truthful about your bisexuality."

"I-I wasn't a-ashamed, if t-that's what you m-mean," I hiccup through my tears. "It just--it s-seemed like a m-moot point. I d-d-didn't w-want it to be a thing, yaknow? I--I w-wanted you to f-focus on what we h-had, not who he was."

Scott simply rubs my arm.

"H-his n-name is T-Tristan."

Scott nods, still rubbing my arm. When I still don't settle, Scott pulls me into another hug.

"Why're you crying so much?" Scott asks me, but he's not shaming me. He sounds genuinely concerned.

"I-I d'no," I admit pathetically. "It-it-it's a-all just s-so much."

"You did good," Scott assures me quickly. "You did really good, Bauwens."

"Pumpkin!"

The sound of heels running across the floor echoes out, and before I know it there's a new set of arms wrapped around me in addition to Scott's. And it's Gloria, of course, and she's wearing a purple pants-suit. And it reminds me of the outfit she first wore all those years ago when I was just eighteen and had just signed with EMI, and that memory just makes me cry harder.

"I-I-I just f-f-feel like--like I came full-circle, y-yaknow?" I manage to choke out.

Then Gloria starts crying, and I'm not even sure why, but then Scott joins in. And now I'm embarrassed, the three of us holding each other, crying on the floor of an empty office space we rented. Yet, for the first time in my entire life, I felt like everything was right in the universe.

Gloria kisses the side of my head. "I know, babycakes. I know. And we are so proud of you. So very proud of you."

I nod, and I felt whole.

I was just sorry Tristan had missed my metamorphosis.

~

In England was the last performance of the long, rambling song I had written months ago for Tristan. Even though I was enjoying my concert as I gave it, in the back of my mind I knew how we were going to end the concert. I was anxious, showing the world my softer side.

Yes, I had performed it numerous times by now throughout this tour, but every new crowd was nerve wracking. Orion Bauwens didn't play acoustic guitar. He didn't sing about drug overdoses that actually happened, and regrets, and wanting someone back even though he knew he didn't deserve it.

But I was finally realizing that was me. For my entire life, I had always compartmentalized Musician Orion Bauwens from just Ori B. But as I sat on that stage on Ben's stool, my eyes closed, singing, a spotlight on me and only me, I realized something.

That was stupid. Orion Bauwens (rockstar, jazzhands) wouldn't exist without Ori. Orion Bauwens was a man who felt abandoned. He was abused. His first serious girlfriend killed herself. At the ripe age of sixteen, he had gone through the pain of losing a baby already.

It takes a certain amount of courage (or insanity, I'm still not sure which) to become a performer. So for me, dressing up in crazy fun outfits with crazy makeup and going on stage to sing and dance poorly was a fucking cakewalk after everything I went through. So, as messed up as it is...if I hadn't been through Hell and back, if I hadn't earned my knocks and found within myself a strength to just survive, I wouldn't be here right now. I'd just be Ori B., not Orion Bauwens, unstoppable rockstar badass extraordinaire.

And when I finish my song, and the crowd roars, I grin and realize, I did this, this was all me.

Yet...There's still a part of me that feels sad. There's still a part of me that was always going to be sad for one very specific reason.

That part of me was the hole in my soul that was shaped like Tristan.

~

"That was bloody brilliant!" Scott tells me backstage. Ben, Jake, and myself are all sweaty messes, but we're grinning ear to ear.

"Thanks," I tell him genuinely, trying to ignore the aching in my chest I had caused by singing a love song about Tristan.

"I didn't know you had it in you to do something so tenderly!"

That causes me to blush, and I give my awkward laugh. "T-thanks."

"So, I have a surprise for you," Scott tells me, still grinning from ear to ear.

I'm confounded. "Oh?"

"Every single venue of this comeback tour was a sold out show," Scott says.

"Because we're awesome!" Jake sings in a falsetto, and Ben and I laugh.

"That's an impressive feat. So, I was thinking--since we're in England anyway, how about I hold a party for you?"

I'm stunned. "W-what? No, it's alright, I couldn't impose--"

"No no, in fact, I insist," Scott tells me.

I don't miss when Scott looks at Jake and winks. I must admit, I'm thoroughly confused.

"Everything has already been prepared, in fact," Scott tells me. "Invitations went out days ago."

"Weeks ago," Jake says, and I'm starting to get the distinct impression that he and Scott are up to something.

"Whaaat's going on?" I ask dubiously, looking from Jake to Ben, and Ben to Scott.

Ben holds up his hands and backs away. "Don't look at me. I'm gonna go shower." I watch him walk off stage.

"So, what do you say?" Scott grins at me, putting his arm around my shoulders. "A masquerade ball held in your honor at my place?"

I laugh. "Seriously?"

"Yeah," Jake says, "like he said, everything's been planned. You kinda can't say no."

I look at Jake. "Are you gonna be there?"

"Naw," Jake says. "Ben and I are flying back out tomorrow."

"Oh," I say, my shoulder's slumping.

Jake laughs. "C'mon, Ben and I don't know how to dance. It's a formal occasion."

I laugh. "Yeah, true. You and Ben don't really do formal things."

Jake laughs and shoves me. "Fuck off. I clean up rather nicely, thank you."

"So, I can expect the guest of honor tomorrow night, starting at 7:30 sharp?" Scott prods, eyebrows raised expectantly.

I grin. "Sure." Then my grin falls away. "Oh...I didn't know this was happening, I have nothing to wear--"

Scott bows dramatically. "Consider yourself Cinderella and I'm your fairy Godmother."

"Really? You have an outfit for me?"

"Several, really," Scott says, waggling his eyebrows at me. "You get your pick."

I frown a little. "I'm shorter than you..."

"Bah! I'm sure we'll find something."

Still feeling like there might be more to this, I give a lopsided grin. "Alright, I'm game."