so...i thought i'd start off the new year with a new fic. this is just something i'm testing out. i don't know whether i'm going to continue it. that depends on y'alls response. so please, if you like it, let me know! i've had the idea for a while and i was going to use it on a muke story but i thought it'd fit this better. the chapter's really short, because, like i said, i'm just testing the waters with this. we'll see how it goes. enjoy!
trigger warnings - depression
"Thank you Atlanta! You've been wonderful! We'll see you next time!"
The show ends the way it always does; he thanks the fans and throws guitar picks into the crowd and promises they'll be back soon and then they get off stage and guzzle down water and get something to eat and start loading up the buses and everything just. Stops.
The adrenaline drains, the excitement fades, the high turns into a low and he finds himself crashing, falling, sinking to the bottom of a hole where he's left to curl into a ball and tuck his head into his knees so no one sees him cry. When he's onstage he's not thinking and all those pent up thoughts hit him like a train and then he's swallowing, coughing, choking on the realization that he's not okay and no amount of acting happy and putting on a smile for the fans will make him okay.
"Geoff?"
He blinks, shaking his head, and looks up. "Sorry, what?"
"I asked if you wanted to get food before we head out," Jawn says slowly. "The buses are almost loaded up."
"Oh yeah, sure."
"You good, man?" Jawn asks, when they're sitting in the corner of a McDonald's unwrapping heart disease and high cholesterol. "We're almost home. Only one more show."
"I don't want tour to end, dude," Geoff replies, taking a bite of his burger. "It's been a fuckin' good time."
"But don't ya wanna see Chlo? And sleep in your own bed? And not eat shit every day?"
He shrugs. "S'not that bad. I love bein' on stage every night, performing...I don't wanna stop. I don't wanna ever stop."
"We only got two months before we're back on tour, you adrenaline-junkie," Jawn teases. "Think you can hold out 'till then?"
No. "I guess. It'll be nice to have a break."
Being home means days and nights and weekdays and weekends, alone with his thoughts. There's no break from that. There's never a break from that.
He doesn't want to go home.