| Devin's POV |
I just finished up my makeup and hair. My clothes were in the back of the bus. I was just about to grab my stage costume, when I passed by the bathroom and heard some noises. I backed up and saw Ricky having another breakdown. His small body laid in between Chris' legs, with his head on Chris' chest, as they both sat on the floor.
"Is everything okay?" I asked.
"Yeah. Well, no. I don't know." Chris replied. "He had an anxiety attack."
I frowned. "He hasn't had those since he was with Jani."
"I know." He muttered. Chris tightened his grip around Ricky and kissed his head. "You still want to play today?"
"Y-yeah. I do, j-just let me fix my makeup." Ricky softly whimpered.
Chris helped him to his feet. The poor thing looked traumatized. He needed a break, but that wasn't happening anytime soon.
~~~
| Ricky's POV |
I wasn't feeling well, mentally or physically. Hitting the stage always helped, so that's what I did. We played our hearts out as normal, and I started to feel better. Chris would come over and kiss me a lot because he knew I needed it.
We took a short break during the drum solo. Chris and I stood in the wings of the stage, both sweaty.
"How are you feeling?" He asked deep in my ear.
"Much better." I responded.
Chris smiled brilliantly. "I'm glad, Babe. Ready for round two?"
I nodded and grabbed my guitar once more. We headed back on stage and rocked to our heart's content. I looked up out at the crowd as I sung in the mic. We have the most amazing fans. They screamed for us, smiling and headbanging.
In the strobe lights, I caught a phantom it seemed like. My breath caught in my throat as I swore I had seen his neon hair. There's no way. I felt myself grow weak, my eyes unable to move from where they stared. I couldn't tell if it was him, but just the utter thought... Then I saw the devil's smile flash under the lights, and suddenly he was walking away.
I guess I shouldn't have said I was okay. The song we were on came to a close and I quickly ran off stage as I felt ill. I didn't even take my guitar off before running to a corner of the backstage and puking my guts out.
Josh came up to me, taking my guitar off and handing it to another roadie. "Do you need a paramedic?" He asked.
I leaned my arm on the wall. "N-no. I just need to finish the show then get to bed."
"They can finish the show without you. You don't look well. Go to the bus and lay down." He instructed.
"But Josh-"
"Ricky, you can't even stand up. For fuck's sake, think of yourself for once. You're always too worried about other people."
Was he kidding? I'm so selfish, with the way I always wake the guys at night, and everyone is always protecting me. Plus I don't do anything for anyone else! I should finish the show, but I started to black out from the heat.
I can't believe what I saw...