RECORDS ◈ FINN WOLFHARD

1 | RINK RECORDS

Y/N

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"THANK YOU VANCOUVER!" I shouted, "I love you, guys!"

Even though my lips were almost pressed up against my microphone, the sound of screaming fans was enough to drown me out. And when I say drown, I mean I literally couldn't hear myself through my own earpiece.

"Ah--jeez," I grunted, setting the mic down, "I think I bloody broke my eardrum."

Holding my hand out to Niall, my bassist, I disappeared through the curtains with haste. Pressing my palm against my right ear, I hurried down the backstage hallway, brushing past a swarm of techies.

The show was supposed to be over half-an-hour ago, but I was forced to play multiple encores to satisfy the crowd. I didn't mind at first, since it was my first time selling out a 54,500 seated stadium, but now I really did mind.

"My frickin' ear is bleeding!" I yelled, staring at my bloody palm, "where the hell is Jane?"

Jane, my manager, was supposed to be backstage at all times. But clearly she wasn't here, because I was wandering around in desperation.

"Hey," some random crew member said, patting my back, "great show."

Well, it was a great show, but now it wasn't. Muttering a 'thank you' to the guy, I stormed down the remainder of the hallway. I was about to make another turn, when I caught a glimpse of Jane's bright yellow suit.

She was flirting up a storm with one of the instrument wranglers.

"Jane!" I hissed, making a beeline towards her, "my ear is bleeding!"

Catching her attention, she turned towards me, a smile on her face. I skidded to a stop in front of her, narrowing my eyelids.

"Oh, darling," she laughed, "you didn't sound that bad."

"Excuse me?"

"You said your ears were bleeding."

"Because they're actually bleeding!" I cringed, "those stupid earpieces must have torn my eardrum during the encore."

"Hm, that's not good," she swore under her breath, "you have to get back to the hotel for an interview, so I'm not sure we'll have much time to get that stitched up tonight."

"Are you serious?"

"I'm afraid we just don't have room to fit in a hospital visit, since you're schedule is packed."

"How many times do I have to say it?" I exclaimed, "my ear is bleeding! How is an interview more important?"

Jane shrugged, waving away the Wrangler beside her, "it's with Vanity Fair, darling."

"Screw Vanity Fair, then!"

Letting out an angry puff of air, I spun on my heels and disappeared into the bustling hallway. I could still hear the screaming crowd, their chants echoing through the thick walls, but at this point I didn't bother going back out.

The show was over, and my ear looked like something out of a Quentin Tarantino film.

Ignoring the fact that my phone, coat, and backpack was still in my dressing room, I made my way towards the stage door in anger.

Big mistake.

As soon as I pushed open the door, I was swarmed by a mob of fans, all shoving papers and sharpies in my face. So there I was, defenseless, without my bodyguard, in a crowd that wanted to rip me apart.