The Loud Crowd

4.

Hello there. Thank you for reading! That's all I have to say up here, I suppose.

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It was a Wednesday. I'd always hated Wednesdays - it'd been a Wednesday when I'd decided to run away with most of my Dad's money and hop on a plane to New York. And consequently joined first the worst band in history, and then the best. Maybe Wednesdays were destined to be complicated. Maybe that was why I had always hated them.

We were in Number Four - the amount of times I've written that! But seriously, we were in Number Four as always. There wasn't much for us to set our sights on firmly until we heard from Elliot when we were supposed to be resuming the tour. Given that Nate was still getting back on his feet, health-wise that is, it'd probably be another month. So in the mean time, we were playing our favourites and generally getting back into the rhythm of being a band again.

We'd dragged a sofa into the booth to test how horizontal Freddie had to be to play like crap. So far, we hadn't found the angle - he seemed to rock whether laid down, stood up, or sideways on. He had a knack of getting tangled up in the amp wires, though. I liked the way we seemed to be getting back into the routine with each other, but there were always constant reminders that we weren't the same.

Nate was quieter than usual. I could tell something was bothering him, and yet I didn't think I'd quite managed to reach the point where I was permitted to ask him what was wrong yet. I wondered if it was me, and then realised that I was being paranoid. We hadn't spoken at all since the scene in the corridor outside, and maybe that was because he just didn't want to talk to me. I shook my head and carried on going over the lyrics I was working on.

I was on the sofa, scribbling and jotting down and crossing out. I wasn't sure what the song I was working on was about yet - the words had just appeared in my head. And yet I had a feeling it would be an important piece. Nate was in the booth with Freddie, a frown creasing his forehead as he plucked something out on the bass. I wanted so much to just ask him straight out what was wrong, and yet dreaded the answer. Theoretically, on paper and all that, we were two people in love. And yet it all seemed so complicated. What if he had decided to just give up?

"Stop staring," Chris said, from his place at the sound desk. He had his back to the booth, his drum sticks in hand.

I jumped, glaring at him. "I wasn't staring." I argued pointlessly.

He rolled his eyes. "Right, sure you weren't. Just tell me one thing, whether you were staring or not: Are you and Nate together, or what?"

I flicked my eyes back to Nate. He caught my gaze and flashed a quick smile. Not his usual smile, but enough to fill my tummy with butterflies. I looked back at Chris. "I have no idea," I said honestly.

He sighed. "Why does everything have to get so worked up? I thought we were all in this for just the music - not to turn it all into some crappy soap opera."

I frowned. "What's up with you?"

He shrugged. "I guess I'm not liking what's happening to our band. And I'm not blaming it on Nate's accident, that just seemed to highlight the way we seem to be splitting at the seams."

"We're not becoming media-orientated, if that's what you're worried about. Our music will only every change with us, not because other people don't like it," I promised. "You know that."

"I do. And its not the music changing I'm worried about. Its us changing. Even more than we already have." He said, voice heavier than I'd ever heard it.

I was about to reply when Freddie's voice came from the now open door of the booth: "Guys, are you as fed up and bored as we are? Because we were thinking of going to get something to eat."