Band One Shots - CLOSED

Fix You - Kier Kemp [OfMiceAndCookies]

You sit on the floor, your back leaning against your bed. The wall that had been plastered in photos was right in front of you, and right in the centre was the picture. The picture of you and him. The one guy that was meant to be perfect but had turned out to be nothing but poison. He had kept pushing you and pushing you into something that you weren’t ready for, and he never liked it when you said no. Thankfully, you’d got out. He hadn’t got what he wanted from you, but that’s not to say that he hadn’t left mental scars.

You pick at a rip in your skinny jeans, fraying the material with your nails and making it worse. Then you look down at your shirt. It’s a Fearless Vampire Killers shirt, a shirt from your friends’ band. You’d first met Laurence, Kier, Drew, Cyrus and Luke back in pre-school and the six of you had been inseparable ever since. You’d trusted them with everything, except this. Not even Kier, who you were the closest to out of all the guys, knew. The boys had formed a band in year seven, and now they were getting pretty well known. They’d been offered a tour slot over the summer and they’d accepted it and insisted that you were going to be their merch girl. So you accepted, because nothing made you happier than seeing the boys doing what they loved.

But lately, you’d shut off all contact with them. Every time one of them had called, you’d ignored it. Whenever they’d texted you, you’d ignored it. If they called your landline and one of your family picked up, you made sure they told them that you were ill. Currently, you’d been ill for the past two weeks.

You’d left your room only when you needed to, for little things like food, drink and the need to empty your bladder. You felt like you needed something, but you didn’t know what. You weren’t sure if you needed a hug; someone to tell you that everything was going to be okay; to see the boys again and laugh at all their obscene jokes or if you needed to see him.

“Don’t be stupid, Jo,” You mutter. “You’re going to be okay,”

You run your hands through your auburn hair, something that the boys had always teased you about and sigh heavily. You just want to feel normal again. Chewing on your dry bottom lip and splitting it in the process, you wonder if you should call Kier, just to let him know if you were still alive. After all, you’d been ‘ill’ for two weeks, so in his eyes, you were probably dying of your mystery illness.

Standing up, you walk to your mirror, just to see how terrible you looked. Your dark green eyes stare back at you dully, your hair hanging limply past your shoulders. A small sigh escapes you. As much as you want to see Kier and the rest of the guys, you don’t know if you can handle it. You want to be around the few people who made you happy, but you want to be left alone.

On your bed, your phone buzzes. You pick it up and read the text from Kier.

I’m coming over. Deal with it.

You have no idea of how to reply. It was all so sudden. There wasn’t any time to think of a decent excuse to stop him from coming over as he only lived down the road from you. Knowing him, he was probably running to your house, his hair flopping all over his eyes. Had it really only been the other week that you’d helped him dye his fringe red? That seemed like years ago, because you’d been happy.

As you begin to tap out a reply telling Kier that you didn’t want him to catch whatever you have, your door swings open to reveal none other than Kier himself.

“So,” He drawls. “Ill,”

Tears instantly fall from your eyes under his scornful tone and you feel your bottom lip tremble. You sink to the floor, doing everything you can to bite back the traitorous tears that are slipping down your cheeks. Kier had never seen you cry before. In fact, none of the guys had ever seen you cry.