Page 28 of Beyond the Fame

His break-up with Olivia months earlier was a catalyst to this downfall. He was fired because he kept going out, kept getting drunk, and was too out of control for me to handle. It’s not like I could physically stop him.

He refused to listen, refused to get help, and not just for thirty days, but longer this time.

Me: What do you mean? What did you do?

He doesn’t answer immediately and the pit of my stomach twists.

Something’s wrong.

I stand up and run to my kitchen where I grab my keys off the table next to the garage. I barely close the door to my Audi before I’m backing out of my driveway and speeding towards Mylan’s place in Beverly Hills.

Thirty minutes later I arrive at a freaking crime scene—red and blue flashing lights, police, EMTs.

What the fuck happened?

I fly out of the car and run up the driveway to find the EMTs rolling Mylan out on a stretcher. He’s pale and unconscious and hauntingly still.

“What happened? What the fuck happened?”

Tears well in my eyes, and I swallow the tightening in my throat.

A police officer holds up his hands, stopping me from trying to get to the ambulance to my friend. “Sir, please get out of the way.”

“Jensen!” Eloise runs towards me with wet streaks down her face.

“What the fuck happened? Is he okay?”

“He... he...” She breaks down and I immediately wrap my arms around her petite body, which shakes violently.

“Is he alive? Please tell me he’s alive.”

“He’s alive,” Bruno answers solemnly and walks up to where we stand, his eyes lowered to the ground. “He overdosed. It... It was intentional.”

“He tried to—” I can’t even get the word out. This isn’t like him. What the hell?

“I had to give him... I had to...” Eloise hiccups into my chest, so upset she’s unable to speak.

“She gave him CPR. The EMTs said she saved his life. If she hadn’t found him…” Bruno answers for her, his accented words trailing off.

“He’d sent me a text,” Eloise says, her voice muffled because she’d yet to pull away from me. “I got it right as I was parking to drop off a pile of scripts for him to read... I found him and...”

She bursts into more tears.

“I got a text too,” Bruno says quietly. I’d never seen him so sad. He’s typically a happy man. “I was in the gym. I didn’t hear my phone go off.”

“Hey,” I whisper into the top of Eloise’s head. “He’s going to be okay. If he really wanted to… if he really wanted to end things… he wouldn’t have texted all of us.”

It’s the only comforting words I can offer, and I’m not even sure I believe them. I should have been there for him more. We’ve been best friends for nine years now, yet these past few years, we’ve grown further and further apart. The more I’d beg him to get help, the more he kept pushing me away.

After the ambulance leaves with Mylan, we pile into my car, and I drive us to the hospital. It's hours before the doctor comes to the waiting room. He tells us Mylan is stable and resting. Despite visiting hours being over, he still lets us go back.

Seeing my best friend, the one person who has been by my side, who’s had my back, and loved me like a brother, restrained to a bed because he’s a danger to his own life, is unsettling. My throat burns, my eyes ache with tears. I never cry unless it’s on cue for a scene. I never cry because no one’s ever been worth the tears.

Why? Why did he do this? I don’t understand.

I tell Eloise and Bruno I can’t stay. It’s too hard. I ask them not to tell Mylan I was here then leave, making it just outside the door before I finally break down. I bend over, hands on my knees, and cry and cry and cry.

After a few minutes, I hear talking from inside Mylan’s room.

---