What Makes This Fragile World Go Round [Tom/Mark]/[Mark/Tom/Matt]

1: The Night of Pain in the Heart

"Dude, Tom. Chill out," David said, standing beside the man. "You're gonna make a scene if you don't stop."

"Im fine." Tom paused to watch a firework explode. "Im okay, really."

"If you say so. But I'm not gonna stick around and help you stalk your ex boyfriend. So, I guess I'll see you around...I'm gonna head out now."

"Okay bye," Tom said, waving David off.

As soon as Kennedy was out of sight, DeLonge sat cross legged in the grass. He stared down at his Macbeths, every so often glancing up to kook at Mark and Matt. They seemed to impossibly shift closer to each other each time he looked, until they were practically laying one on top of the other.

He looked back down at his shoes. This is uncomfortable and awkward. That should be him with Mark. Not Matt. They used to lay like that in the grass all the time.

Did...did Mark replace him as a bestfriend, too?

He shook his head. "Mark would never..."

But...what if?

Tom looked up again, realizing the firework show had ended. The last of the smoke was billowing away in the wind, making the sky clear again. Luckily, they were a bit further away from the city, so the stars were easily visible. Most of the people had gotten up to resume what they were doing before the fireworks. Some stayed seated in their little cliques on the grass. Someone was playing a ukulele off in the distance and there was a drunk guy attempting to softly sing along.

Matt and Mark stayed laid in the grass. They were now side by side, Mark was pointing out something in the sky.

They're...stargazing.

That's what Mark and I used to do...all the time.

When they were younger, they'd climb on top of the van while Scott slept inside. If the sky was clear enough, they'd lay side by side and see how many constellations they could pick out, and making up their own as the night went on. Sometimes they'd try to invite Scott, but he wasn't as interested. The drummer was more fascinated with the ocean than the stars.

Even after Travis had joined the band and they'd made it big, they'd climb on top of their bus and lay down to look at the stars. This time. They didn't have to worry about denting the roof.

Tom stood up. He didn't want to be outside anymore.

He zigzagged past the people that were standing around and made his way back inside. Surprisingly, it was louder inside than it was outside. Tom grabbed himself a bet from one of the many coolers and used his ring with a built in bottle opener to pop the cap. It was faster and more effective than hunting for a bottle opener.

He wandered aimlessly about until he lost track of time.

He was tired and was trying to compose a plan on how to get home when he felt a hand being placed on his shoulder from behind.

"Tom."

"Travis," Tom said, looking down at the tattooed knuckles on his shoulder. He turned around to face his former band mate. "What's up."

"Just wanted to catch up, but I didn't realize how late it is," the drummer shrugged. "I've only got a couple of  minuets before someone comes looking for me."

"Travisssss," Someone called out.

"Make that a couple of seconds." Travis corrected.