"What do you mean they just left?!"
Brody shrugged, eyes never leaving the pinball machine.
Ryland pounded his fist on the glass, it shattering over the machine. The ball dropped and Brody threw his arms up, giving off that taunting jingle that played whenever you lost.
"What the actual hell, Ryland?" he exclaimed.
"You're not answering me! And if you can't tell, this is kind of important to me!"
Brody released a laugh. "Important? Maybe you should've thought of that word last night."
"I said I was sorry!"
"I'm not the one you should be saying sorry to," Brody exclaimed, throwing his hands up in surrender.
Ryland ground his teeth together before their manager came in. "Showtime boys!" the man with the walkie talkie declared. "Who is ready to tear the house down?"
Paris let out a hoot, his shiny personality carrying all the energy for them. Lucan's mood was extra dark today, arms crossed in the corner. Brody was just different and Ryland was madly confused. They told them bits and pieces, but he just didn't understand.
"Where did they go?!" Ryland shouted. He meant HB and Delilah. Melon Head was no where to be found either...
Paris's smile fell.
The manager shot a confused look over the boys. "Is something wrong?"
"Nothing," Lucan replied and pushed off the wall, unfolding his arms. He picked his bass guitar off the wall and moved past his manager. "Nothing is wrong. Let's tear this shit up."
Paris quickly covered his face of distress, wearing that mask of happiness again. He linked arms with Brody who broke out into a smile, following after the two. The manager stayed with Ryland who couldn't seem to understand what was going on.
"C'mon, boy," he said, touching the angel by his lower back. "You have a show to put on."
Ryland didn't say anything and just obeyed. He began listing all the things he should be happy for, and by the time they were on the stage, he listed off enough to keep his miserable thoughts away.
The show was magic and the crowd and the love and affection cleaned off his mind, letting his thoughts free themselves and welcomed the warmth that was being offered. At the end of their last song, when he played that final note: the crowd looked like a new sky: phones the new stars and neon wristbands waving like shooting stars. He didn't want to look at any other sky—he wanted it to stay like this.
This was the world he wanted to be in. This was the world he worked so hard for.
This was who he wanted to be.
He wanted to stay in the dark forever.
+++
A/N: A few more chapters to go, friends...
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xx 3.14