I'm sorry about last time, but it had to happen. And, if I'm totally honest, it might even get worse... BUT.... On the bright side, you've had two uploads in two days!
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The tour bus smelt like the soundbooth from Number Four. This was comforting - I was already missing the studio, which felt more like home than England or my apartment ever would. It was the place Nate and I had written our music, where I'd fallen in love. With both the music and him.
It was a small bus, but since we were close, we hadn't cared when they'd first told us. Now, after last night, I was beginning to regret not demanding either a separate bus or just a bigger one. There were four bunk beds with just a slide-along curtain to shield us from view. Luckily, there were two bathrooms. Well, if you could call the tiny room a bathroom.
No one spoke as we boarded that first night. My throat hadn't healed from the concert last night and all the crying afterwards. Nate kept far away from me, anger and cold emotion etched into every line in his face. Chris and Freddie weren't stupid. They knew something had happened, and so kept quiet.
We all just kind of stood and stared around for a bit. The living space was at the back of the bus, with two comfy looking sofas making an L shape in the left corner, a small kitchenette along the right wall and various cupboards and storage spaces. It was nice, homey even. It would've been much nicer if Nate and I were... you know.
Eventually, our driver, an overweight 40 year old named Jimmy, poked his face into the still-open doorway. "Come on, guys, get settled in. Its time to get going. Should arrive in Vermont in about 5 or 6 hours, at this rate."
I internally groaned. Five - six hours in a perpetually awkward bus, whilst I couldn't bear to look Nate in the eye for fear I'd blurt out everything and decide the band wasn't worth it anyway? Fantastic. I cleared my throat. "Right, thanks Jimmy," I said, before closing the door.
Chris threw his suitcase onto the top bunk on the right wall. "This one's mine." He said, grinning.
Following his lead, Freddie jumped onto the bottom bunk underneath Chris, smirking. "You two can fight over the other set."
Chris and Freddie meandered into the living space, which was kept separate from the bunks by a thin plastic door. It closed behind them with a snap, leaving me alone with Nate.
My heart picked up and I started to panic. Should I speak like we were just friends? How could I when I was battling the urge to kiss him and forget the consequences? There was a huge, bubbling mess of guilt inside me, and it didn't allow me to talk.
It was Nate who made the first move. He simply set his bags on the top bunk before stalking into the living space without looking at me once.
It was like a physical pain shooting through me. How was he finding this so easy? Or was he just that good at hiding his anger? Because it was obvious he was angry - he kept clenching his fists when he thought no one was watching. But I was always watching.
Stifling a sob, I dumped my bags onto the last remaining bottom bunk. Maybe it was a good thing Nate was on top of me - we wouldn't be able to see each other during sleepless nights. I was sure there would definitely be a few of those to come.
Wiping the few tears that had managed to escape, I poked my head around the door. "Guys, I'm going to see if I can sleep through this first journey."
Freddie gaped at me from where he was sprawled over the sofa. "What? But its the first one, we're supposed to go wild!"
I shrugged. "I'm still kinda tired from last night, and I don't want to fall asleep onstage tonight." This was true - I hadn't been able to get any sleep at all.
He gave me a sympathetic smile. "OK. Sleep tight. Can't promise to keep the noise down, though. Not now we're rock stars."
I shot him a quick grin before snapping the door shut on them. I pulled some sweatpants and a baggy Led Zepp T-shirt from my bag, before stowing it under the bed. Pulling on the more comfy clothes, I settled down and closed my eyes.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Somebody was talking too loud - I jolted awake.
"-still my best friend, but something's going on, and I don't think its fair to ask us to just play along like its not affecting the band!" Freddie was snarling.
Nate's voice, by comparison, was smooth and calm. "Look, I'm sorry but the press already scrutinise my love life enough as it is. I don't need you doing it as well."
"Nate, at least let me know why she came into my dressing room nearly crying before the concert last night." Freddie said, sounding impatient.
There was a pause. "I don't know, Fred. I don't get a single thing she does, and you know what? She isn't my business anymore, so I don't even care."
I rolled over, tears gathering in the corners of my eyes. Was it that easy for him? He just decided to cut himself off, pretend it was a simply matter of getting over each other? I mean, he thought I had nothing to get over - he thought I hadn't cared a single bit. And maybe that was what was bothering me.
Maybe I just wished he'd fought harder for me.
Its not like I'd wanted to give him up. I had no choice - in the end, I'd done it for him. But if he was going to play like there was nothing to it, so was I.
I swung my legs around and hopped from the bed. Padding quietly, I made my way into the living area and went over to the kitchenette, ignoring Nate who was strumming on the sofa and Chris and Freddie who were playing some kill-spree game on the X-Box they'd hooked up to the tiny TV.
Grabbing a mug and flicking the kettle on, I said, "What time is it?" To no one in particular.
Freddie answered. "Its about eight. There's just under an hour to go."
I nodded, pulling my hair up into a messy ponytail. I poured water into my cup of tea and took it over to the sofa, sitting at least three spaces away from Nate. Taking a sip from my mug, I winced as it scalded my throat.
"You feel better, now?" Chris asked, not taking his eyes from the zombie he was shooting.
I nodded. "Yeah, I was just tired, that's all."
Freddie grinned. "You seen the set list for tonight?"
I nodded. "We're going to sound awesome," I laughed, easily slipping into the usual banter with Chris and Freddie.
"We always do," Chris snorted.
Nate stayed obviously silent, brooding over the tune he was strumming on the guitar. I tried to keep my eyes away from him, but I suppose I'd always found that hard. His hair flopped into his eyes, his back hunched over his instrument. I could tell he was tense, because the muscles were tense in his back. I wanted to reach out to him, but kept my hands on my mug.
"How are we supposed to be doing the LP at the same time as the tour?" I asked Freddie, blowing on my tea to cool it down.
He rolled his eyes. "We'll be stopping overnight at a few places, so we'll be hiring studios to work. They're expecting it to be completely finished a month after the tour finishes."
I groaned. "I will never get any sleep at this rate."
Freddie poked my side, tearing his eyes away from the game for a second. "Yeah, but think of the performances we'll be doing every night. You don't need sleep when you've got that."
I laughed. "You're right. Last night was..." I trailed off, unable to find the right words to describe the feeling being on stage.
"Incredible,"
"Amazing,"
"Magical."
All three of them spoke at the same time, but Nate was a few seconds late. His word left an almost physical silence in its wake. My eyes snapped over to him, but he wasn't looking.
"Right. It was." I said, taking a hasty gulp of tea and then spluttering when it was still too hot. "Ouch!"
"You shouldn't drink tea anyway." Freddie said, nodding at me.
I frowned. "Why not?"
"Far too British," Chris commented.
I scowled. "I am British, idiots."
"Yeah, but don't be the cliché." Freddie said, shooting a zombie in the head.
"What if I just like the taste of tea?" I said, glaring at them.
"Then learn to drink something different." Chris suggested.
Freddie winked. "Like vodka."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
It was about four in the afternoon when we pulled up outside the hotel we'd be staying in for the night. The place was big, but not flashy. Jimmy the driver opened the door for us, laughing when we jumped out so fast we almost fell over.
I stretched my muscles before heading inside the hotel.
Nate had got there first, and was leaning over the reception desk to speak to the woman behind it. She was very pretty, with deep red hair and green eyes. Eyes that weren't moving from Nate's face as he leaned further, whispering something in her ear. I stopped short, hardly daring to breathe. That was what was going to happen now? He'd just start flirting with every woman we came across.
I adopted my old habit of chanting I don't care I don't care I don't care inside my head. Maybe if I said it enough times, I would start to believe it.
Marching up to the desk, I appeared at Nate's side. "Hi," I said to the woman, as if I really didn't care that she was eyeing up the man I loved. The man I wasn't supposed to love. "I'm Lyra. Can I get my room key please?"
She fumbled a little, before producing a key with the number 7 etched onto it. "Here. Second floor, first room on the right." She said nervously. She'd probably seen all the photos of Nate and I in the press, and thought I was about to call her out on flirting with him. She wasn't to know that those photos felt more like lies than they ever had done now.
I nodded, appreciatively. "Thanks," I said, before dragging my suitcase into the lift with me.
I took a deep breath and leaned my head back, hearing the door start to slide shut. Its OK, I told myself. He has every right to flirt. You were never a couple anyway, and you made the decision that the band was more important.
Before the doors could shut all the way, a hand appeared, stopping them. Seconds later, Nate forced himself in with me and my massive suitcase, lugging a huge bag of his own. I gulped, but pretended to fix the label on my case so that I didn't have to look at him.
"Service is good in this place so far," He said with a smirk.
I tried to force down the irrational anger I suddenly felt, knowing he was trying to rile me up, to gage a reaction. I smiled, "Yeah, she seemed really nice."
His smirk dropped, and he said, "You nervous for tonight?"
I glanced at him and shrugged. "Not really. We never used auto-tune, so the fans won't be disappointed with my voice. And besides, they've paid to see us - they wouldn't have done that unless they thought we were worth it."
He nodded. "Right."
An awkward silence filled the air, and I let it. I had to distance myself, had to keep us separate in some way. Even though that was the last thing I wanted. When the doors slid open, I immediately pulled the suitcase out and went slamming into the first door on the right.
I shut the door tightly behind me, throwing the suitcase onto the bed with unnecessary force. "I don't care I don't care I don't care," I muttered angrily.
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It was with an hour and a half until show time that I left the hotel and met Freddie and Chris outside the tour bus. I was just wearing shorts and a baggy top, thanks to the knowledge that Jessy would be there to fix me up.
"What's up? Aren't we leaving?" I said, wondering why they weren't on the bus.
Freddie glared in the direction of the road. "Nate's not here."
I frowned. "What?"
"Nate's not here. He left after chucking his bag in his room. I don't where he went, but he looked pretty annoyed. And he's going to make us late." Chris growled.
I fished my phone from my pocket after setting my case in the bus. I scrolled until I came to Nate's number. Pressing the call button, I waited with the phone against my ear. Nothing answered me except for the buzz of the dialling tone. I waited. And waited. Eventually I gave up and threw my phone into the bus.
"He didn't answer when we called either," Freddie said. "Jerk. What's he playing at?"
I didn't have an answer to that. No matter how hurt Nate might have been, or maybe angry was a better guess, I didn't believe he'd intentionally miss this. He loved performing as much as I did, he lived for the music the same way I did.
Jimmy stuck his head out of the window. "I just called Elliot. He says to just get in the bus, he'll deal with Nate."
I wasn't sure. "Shouldn't we-"
"Orders from on high, Lyra. Now lets go."
Grudgingly, we got on the bus. I sprawled on the sofa where Nate had been sitting earlier, hoping the guys wouldn't notice my specific choice in seating. "What if he doesn't show?" I whispered.
I felt the engine kick in and the bus start to drive as Freddie shrugged and said, "I don't know. I mean, we all know he's kinda angry-" He shot me a wary glance. "-at the minute. But... I really don't think he'd miss a gig."
Chris groaned. "Not even two shows in and we're already falling apart."
"Don't say that," I snapped. "We are not falling apart."
"Ly, you and Nate can barely stand to look at each other, let alone do a whole concert on the same stage. Maybe its a good thing he didn't show, because I have a feeling it would be a disaster having you two in close contact with each just now." Chris said.
I slapped him. And then my eyes filled up.
He looked at me, shocked. "I'm sorry!" I gasped. "Jeez, Chris, really, I didn't mean to-"
He pulled me into a hug. Which was so not the reaction I'd been expecting. "Its OK. I know you're pretty messed up right now."
I wiped my eyes as he squeezed me tighter. "Yeah, but you didn't deserve to be hit - I'm so sorry!" I said, leaning back. Fortunately, there wasn't a mark on his face.
Freddie sighed from behind us. "What the hell are we doing, guys?"
I looked back at him. "We're about to perform. Hopefully Nate'll be there." I sniffed. "If not, I can sing solo. It won't be as good, but it'll have to do. You two will still rock."
"I just wish I knew how to fix the pair of you." Freddie murmured. "You're both completely destructive."
Destructive. I didn't think I'd ever heard a more perfect word to describe my relationship with Nate. "I'm sorry," I apologised. "Really, I am. This isn't fair on the two of you."
Chris laughed without humour. "You can make it up by singing the best you ever have tonight."
Later, at the arena, I already knew he wouldn't show up. I didn't get my hopes up whilst Jessy slathered more make-up than usual onto my face, because I was looking 'peaky and gross'. I didn't wish for him to come walking out of the dressing room with his name on. I didn't even look for him when a stage hand thrust a mic into my hand and shoved me onto the stage.
The stage felt so much bigger without him. My songs sounded emptier, devoid of any emotion. The crowd weren't as into it as much as they would have been if he were there. It was hard to believe that just 24 hours earlier we'd been singing together, songs we'd written about each other.
I hardly moved at all during the performance. I had no drive, no will to dance around a stage that was missing its most important performer.
I decided to throw in some Snow Patrol, just give things a bit of a shake. But Just Say Yes didn't sound right - it was song about someone begging the person they loved to be with them. And I wasn't allowed to do that.
Don't get me wrong, I still tried. And in a way of technical matters, my voice was still great. But there was no passion, because he'd wasn't even in the building.
In fact, there was only one lyric I truly felt applied to Nate and I:
"You're the only way to me, the path is clear."
Because he was the only way to me. He embodied everything I loved, and yet the path wasn't clear. It was a simple case of I wasn't allowed to love him. And as a result, my music was dying.
I was relieved when the lights cut out. And yet, there was no warm hand guiding me from the stage safely. I managed it on my own, but I was cold inside. The whole thing had felt like a farce. The stage manager glared at me as I walked past her, and I couldn't blame her. Her whole job was to make sure every show was brilliant, and I had ruined all of that for her.
Feeling guilty, I ran back onto the stage. The audience couldn't see me because the lights were still out.
Making my way to where the mic was, I whispered, "I'm sorry, Vermont." My voice was echoed around the arena, and I felt satisfied when I heard an applause begin.
They knew how I felt because they missed him too.
In my dressing room, Elliot found me. I fought the urge to cry and punch him simultaneously. "What do you want?" I snapped.
He rolled his eyes. "Must we be so dramatic, Lyra? I only came here to give you feedback."
"And?"
"And... If you ever give a sorry performance like that, I'll drop the whole band off the label so fast you'll get whiplash."
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I apologise.
Seriously, I hate having to do this, but its all part of the plot and leading up to the sequel so... I kind of have to.
I hope you maybe still kind of enjoy it a little bit anyway. Instead of telling me you feel band for Nyra, tell me if I'm writing it well?
You know I love you all,
XMX