README: Okay first, this is NOT my story. Band on the Run is a story by chooseitwisely - to whom this fanfic is dedicated. It's a brilliant book and if you haven't already, go read it. You're missing out on great writing, great characters, great everything.
Second - This has NOTHING to do with the plot. It's something I wrote during a phase of BOTR withdrawals lol. And its posted because two people here (chooseit and Tabouli) wanted to read it. I'm NOT saying this will happen. I made it up.
ALSO! If you're in the middle of reading JWIN - the first book - this contains spoilers. And this has swearing in it.
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Rebel.
Forcing my eyes open, I blinked. The harsh overhead light made me snap them shut right back again.
I groaned.
Fuck.
I passed out on the couch again.
Only that my head rested on the couch while my torso was on the arm rest. And my legs dangling off the end.
Every single bone in my back felt like it had been shattered and the tiny pieces were now biting into the skin.
Tensing my muscles I pushed myself upright hastily, rubbing my eyes with one hand while the other searched for a particular piece of technological crap.
I hate cellphones.
22:53pm.
Because they usually make me want to punch a hole in the wall, even if that’d be fucking painful.
Groaning again, I buried my face into my palms as my fingers dug into my scalp.
I missed a whole day in studio today.
The thought made me want to scream in frustration. I wanted to throw things. I could see Nick and the rest of Fly Way in the studio, waiting, calling, wondering what the hell.
That made me wonder why Nick didn’t come over and wake me up. Or maybe he did, but seeing his girlfriend looking dead on couch, he probably decided to let me be.
A sweep of my text message inbox confirmed. At this time, he was probably out with guys, as the message read. It also said to text him when I wake up so that he’ll come over.
Even though I could feel the guilt creeping up from the pit of my stomach, I couldn’t deny that at that moment, I just wanted solitude.
And a night out with just the guys was good for him.
My previous frustration returned.
I thought I had one thing established despite all the shit I’d done; I can’t ever disregard music. And missing work felt just that, especially considering the fact we were a bit slow on progress.
Maybe if I wasn’t so fucking messed up. The last time I slept was three days ago, sprawled over the floor in an awkward position with a guitar in my lap.
So fucking comfortable.
Sighing, I stood up, heading towards the kitchen.
Coffee first, then shower.
Rebel.
I clamped my eyes shut, clenching my fist to the point where I could feel my nails tearing the skin of my palms.
Get out of my fucking head.
The dream that had woken me up might have been pleasant to my subconscious, but to my conscious mind it was nothing short of painful.
