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This is so shit, but I made an aesthetic for this Fanfiction, like I have done / am doing with all of my fanfictions. Anywho, onwards with the story...
I smile faintly, the small grin tugging at my lips. As unhappy as I am, this has made me much better. A light, a small, half bright glow shining from a darkened, gloomy tunnel. Those few words, like manic to my ears. Oh how one small thing can make your day. Then again, small things can also ruin it too.
"Andy? Are you listening?" My tour managers voice penetrates my ears, bringing me to my senses.
"I- yes. I am." I stammer, now back into the room, conscious that everyone is now staring at me.
But I've heard all I want to hear. All I need to hear.
"Your wife, she can come with us."
There it is. There's that one thing that makes my happiness come crashing back down, falling apart as it hits the hard surface of realisation. I was so happy to find that there would be a final tour with a new band that is never heard of, and then this comes along. I mean, the new band joining results in that I have to talk to new people, and face my anxiety with getting to know others, but it will be nice to have some new faces around, like on the first leg of the tour.
Beside me, Juliet is prodding my arm, frowning when I don't reply.
"Andy, did you hear that? I can come with you again." She takes ahold of my arms, squeezing it gently.
But that pressure she's applied doesn't just mean that she's excited. It's a warning. If I don't act, she will.
"Yeah, fantastic news." My voice echoes her excitement, but it's hollow, and dull. Pretty much like my life.
I force a broad grin as my crew frown at me, noticing my wearisome tone.
"Is everything... Okay?" My blonde haired drummer asks me, a concerned ring attached to his voice.
I feel my wife's nails dig into my tender bruises, covered by my shirt sleeve.
I jump at the pain, and wince, gasping a little.
"Yeah, yeah, everything fine. Just a little... Tired." I force another smile, and Beaux turns back to face Jon.
"Well, you guys can go now, I don't wanna keep you any longer than need be. The bus will pick you guys up in exactly a week at 8 am sharp." Jon points his finger at me.
"Don't be late again. I'll text you the night before, and three hours before the bus gets there. The last three times have been disastrous, and I don't want this last one to follow in its footsteps." I nod apologetically, the swift movement enough to satisfy my manager.
"Are we gonna get to meet this band?" I ask suddenly.
The small group jump; this is the first I've spoken this whole meeting without having been spoken to first. They stop from packing up their bags, and leaving, waiting for the answer.
