Red Volkswagen || h.s.

Long Live

I'd consider us close too. She definitely brought some much-needed light to the tour. She brought smiles to our faces. To my face.

I miss her already.

I love her like a sister too. She's so easy to...love, I guess.

That's an easy way to put it.

But this isn't about me.

"It's kind of like he's...disassociated, I don't know. He literally hasn't spoken a single word. Probably hasn't eaten or drank anything, and he was completely out of it this morning. He was drinking all night last night. Then she obviously left, and...everything went downhill."

"Fuck...okay, fuck it. I'm getting on a red eye."

"To Charleston?"

"Yeah. I don't care. I need to make sense of this and make sure she's not completely out of it too. I should call her mom too."

"If you do, please keep me updated. I don't know if she would respond to me anyway so I need to know what's going on or I'll go crazy."

"Of course. Harry too. If anything happens please tell us."

"I will. But...what do I do? Do I just wait until he comes to me? I don't wanna pressure him or anything."

"I get that. Just...Iet him be upset but don't let it take over him. That's obviously not what Brooklyn would want. And I would say get them to talk to each other but that's clearly not our job or in our power."

"You're right...okay. I'll see what I can do."

"I'm buying my ticket right now. I'll keep you updated."

"Same."

"Okay, I'll talk to you soon."

We exchange a quick goodbye and I hang up the phone.

So Brooklyn's basically MIA, Harry is metaphorically comatose, Reagan is flying from New York to Charleston, and I have to figure out how to help Harry not fall off the deep end without pressuring him or flaming the already hot flames that are his emotions right now.

Great.

I stand up from the bed and slide my phone into the pocket of my sweatpants, glancing at the time on the digital clock on the bedside table.

9:08 pm.

Tomorrow is a regular sound check and show day with a few things squished in between. After the show, it's on the buses again to Portland. We were lucky today that there was no show, because with everything going on, none of us would've felt up for it and it would've been a shitty show. Harry might've even completely refused to go on. I wouldn't have blamed him.

I decide to go check on him right now, because there's no reason to wait. Maybe he'll feel up to eating, or I can get him some water. A shower would probably help him feel better, too.

His room is right next to mine at this hotel, so I grab my room key and leave the lamp on so I can see when I come back in. The hallway is dead silent when I step out into it, and I shut my door as quietly as possible and take two steps to get in front of Harry's door. I raise my fist up to knock, but I pause, realizing that the door is already cracked open. It's held open by the deadbolt above the door handle.

Instead of knocking, then, I slowly push the door open with a furrowed brow. I'm confused as to why he left the door open. The hinges squeak as the door opens more, and soon I'm in the room. I pull the deadbolt away so the door can close completely, and once it does, it's as silent as it was in the hallway.