will they? won't they? | gawsten

chapter eight: thinking and wallowing

the tour carried on as normal as it really could, everyone just side-eyeing but otherwise ignoring whatever was going on with awsten and geoff. neither of them knew how to talk to each other about it, a common theme in situations like this. but this miscommunication-or lack there of-was driving both of them insane. but they just silently carried on as if everything was normal.

they were now on the twenty-second show, december hitting them hard and swift in baltimore. the blue boy shivered on the bandwagon alone, the rest of his band-plus jawn-had gone out drinking, and they all knew awsten wouldn't want to come along so they all agreed to let him stay behind. they would all feel guilty if they made their sober friend their babysitter for the night, so they ended up uber-ing there and hopefully back.

awsten took this time to think to himself about the predicament between him and geoff. well...not so much think about it; more so think of solutions to stop their 'moments' from happening any more. even if geoff returned what awsten thought he felt, he knew deep down he wasn't ready for any relationship, after his last one blew up on him in the ways it did. he knew he wasn't ready to share himself again, especially for the same sex, as he'd never delved into that part of him much before. he knew he was a little different than all his friends, in high school and even now. but he just shrugged it all off, not wanting to complicate his life even further. he buried his nose in work. work.work.work.

he sat on their small, nearly uncomfortable, couch in their tiny living area. he sighed to himself, pulling his sleeves down even further as the bandwagon was off, and he didn't want to waste more gas than necessary. he thought to himself, blinking away tears; he had no reason to be upset. he was on a tour with his best friends, doing what they loved the most in probably the entire world. and here he was, crying.

he missed when his life wasn't this hectic and confusing. he missed when he could hang out with his friends without feeling different. he wish he wasn't this big rain cloud, raining his disease over everyone he knew and loved.

the blue boy rubbed his face up and down with his sleeves, almost angrily. he hated feeling at all, destined to feel lousy. he wanted nothing more than to be numb, especially now. he let out a scream, wanting to get most of this out before his friends returned, not wanting to worry them more than he already has on this tour alone.

he knows most of this could realistically be fixed by just talking to the brunette about how he feels, but then everything would be real. it wouldn't just be sad little awsten up in his head again. it would be really real. his feelings out in the open more than his music could ever show; and that was really saying something.

he sniffled, wiping the remainder of his tears off his face, wanting to clean himself up before they got back. he didn't want to imagine the looks he'd get, to the questions thrown his way. his body let out a shiver at the imagery, picking himself up and throwing himself in bed. he rotted there for a while, his thoughts tangling an amalgamation in his throat, a strained feeling making his eyes glossy all over again. but then he heard distant voices, the slurred overtones of his friends. he just thanked god they got back safe, although dreading their return all the same.

he took a deep breath in and out, almost as if he were preparing for a show, and he kinda was.