Warnings: angst, anxiety, harassment, violence, alcohol
Word Count: 3 340
A/N: Please don't kill me (yet) (wait until the Octorber 26th, 8pm GMT)
The last concert of tour was about to kick off.
The atmosphere was buzzing with excitement and happiness, and Ryan even smiled at you a couple of times, giving you hope that everything might just turn out fine in the end. Unluckily you did not get the chance to speak to either Ryan or Lars one on one, so by the time the show started, you still had no proof for your theory that it had been Lars who had told Ryan to stay away from you.
The "Three Beats" were playing louder, and harder, and better, and with more force and energy than ever before. While usually the opening bands always had problems igniting excitement in the crowd, tonight it raged through the audience like a wildfire.
The enthusiasm was addicting, and you felt your heart vibrate not only in beat to the drums but also in sync to the band's heart.
You were high on endorphins, and felt like you could take on the world.
When the band had finished playing, you ran to the merch stand, and sold merch to the excited fans. This night, the hype did not fade during the break; instead it got amplified with every passing minute, making it feel like the air was alive, and the venue vibrating in harmony with the universe.
The "Three Beats" had created an atmosphere you had never experienced before, simply by their relief and happiness to have their singer back, and if you were not mistaken, iDKHOW would only top this.
When they got on stage, the venue was shaking from the shouts and cheers of the crowd. Dallon was unable to keep his cool mask on, and instead beamed like the sun itself when he walked up.
But, unnoticed by most people, because they were solemnly focused on Dallon, Ryan was outshining the bassist by miles. His eyes were all squeezed together, so hard was he smiling, and even though it seemed impossible, it only increased when he spotted you by the side of the stage, snapping picture after picture of him.
You hurried to get the ones done which Lucas had requested, knowing that by now you had taken so many of Dallon, that for this last night it was acceptable to focus on Ryan. It felt like you had taken thousands of pictures of Ryan, his smile never faltering, his goofiness on stage worse than ever, and you felt like you were in trance, simply capturing the beauty of this man, doing what he loved, with so much passion that you felt like your heart would tear in two, just by watching him.
His eyes met yours again, and he let out a laugh, so free did he feel in that moment. You smiled at him, no, beamed, and you knew that he could tell, from your eyes alone, how much you had missed this interaction, this energy, this connection while he was playing, how much you loved this. And for the first time in two weeks it felt like he was playing only for you.
But when he looked up again, his eyes wandering over the crowd, his smile suddenly died down, and he almost forgot to drum for a second. None of the members of the audience seemed to notice his almost slip up, but you did, after having seen him play so many shows.
Why had he stopped smiling?
When he looked back towards you, he looked sad. You wanted him to smile again, wanted to see his face scrunching up because of how happy he was, but instead he looked away, and started head banging. You furrowed your brows, and felt your heart sink, before you turned to see what he had looked at before he had stopped smiling. The lighting console, where Lars was clicking around on his laptop.
Rage bubbled up in your chest, and the world around you stepped into the background as you fought yourself through the dancing fans, towards where the technician was working. Not hesitating for a second you climbed over the fence, around the rostrum, and poked your ex-boyfriend in the shoulder.
"Hey," you shouted over the music.
He turned to you, a smug grin on his face.
"Hello there," he winked, his hands already moving to your hips as if to pull you close.
"You!" Angrily you stabbed your finger against this chest, not caring that the impact with his sternum hurt like hell. "What the fuck did you tell Ryan?"
The grin on his face faltered when he picked up on your rage.
"The truth, that we are getting back together," he shouted.
"The fuck? Didn't I make it fucking clear that never, ever, ever, not even if we were the last to fucking people alive in this universe, I'd get back together with you?"
Slowly Lars got angry too.
"I'm fighting for you, isn't that what women want?"
"No, it's fucking not! Not if they told you they don't want anything from you, and especially not when it involves telling lies, and trying to force the woman into something she explicitly said she doesn't want!"
"You don't know what you want," Lars hollered, blood rising to his face, making him look like a tomato with a sunburn, "you should consider yourself lucky to have ever gotten a chance with me! I'm a thousand times better than you, and you show absolutely no gratitude for me wasting my time on a whore like you!"
"If you ever, ever think you know what I want, ever again, I suggest keeping it to your fucking self and letting me live my life the way I want! I'm done with your bullshit manipulations and you guilt tripping me! You've been an asshole for as long as I know you, and you'll always be one, don't think for a second I don't know that by now! My only fault was not realizing this while we were still in college!"
"What did you call me?"
Lars took a threatening step towards you, but instead of intimidating you, it only made you angrier. You were done with this shit; you were done with him making you feel small. So instead of backing away, you stood up tall, feet planted hip wide on the ground, shoulders straightened, chin raised, and looking him directly into the eyes, never looking away or blinking. That he was still several inches taller than you did not matter.
"I called you an asshole, a fucking asshole, because that's what you are. Now back down!"
For a few seconds he stared at you, and you could feel how he tried to win dominance over you, the way he had done back in college when you had been in an argument. But you were not scared of him, not anymore; you were pissed, and you would not let him get the satisfaction of seeing you falter.
To your relief he eventually averted his gaze, and for a second you thought it was over, but then he turned around, and pushed you forcefully into the rostrum, slamming down both hands at your sides.
Now you got scared.
But you were still too pissed to let it show, and before you even had time to react, Lars was grabbed by the back of his shirt, and got yanked backwards. Surprised you saw that a young man, more a boy than a man, had reached over the barriers, and pulled Lars away.
"Leave the lady alone, you hear me," he shouted.
The moment he realized he had just attacked a grown man, was comically obvious, and for a split second fear flickered in his eyes, but he pushed it aside, staring at Lars the way you had mere seconds ago.
Quickly you climbed over the barrier, next to the boy, who was barely older than sixteen.
Lars was about to say something, but when he saw your challenging stare, he huffed and turned away.
"Are you alright," the boy checked in on you, making you smile.
"Yes, I'm fine, thank you," you nodded, "That was very brave of you, thank you."
"Oh," he blushed, "I didn't even think about it."
"I could tell," you laughed, "thank you so much."
You saw two girls next to the boy, who wore the same hand-made shirt as him, making you assume they were on the concert together.
"Take care of each other," you told them, pointing between the lanky young man next to you and the girls, "okay?"
The girls smiled and nodded, one of them answering "We do!" causing the boy to blush even harder.
"Have fun," you laughed, and turned back to the stage, now knowing what you had to do.
~*~
The energy kept vibrating through the venue even half an hour after Dallon and Ryan had left the stage. You had sold almost all of the merch, leaving only very few shirts in the boxes.
After the last people had bid their good byes, you helped packing up. Lars did not even dare looking at you, and you could not have cared less. Instead you laughed and joked around with Jay and Luis, while you rolled together miles and miles of cables, and stored them in the boxes, which they were transported in.
Ryan had not talked to you yet, and after the interruption after the photoshoot you had a feeling he would not be the first one to make the move anymore. But that was okay, you knew what had happened, why he acted the way he did. And if you could not catch him on his own, you would tell him in front of the others, that Lars had lied to him, that you were not interested in Lars, and that you would never be again.
When finally the venue was cleared and everything neatly stacked into the vans, Dallon and Ryan said good bye to the few dedicated fans, who had been waiting outside, before everyone climbed into the vans.
Lucas had announced that in order to celebrate the end of tour, you would go out to a bar, and everyone, still hyped up by the fantastic show, had cheered happily. After the vans had been parked at the hotel, and the luggage carried into the rooms, Lucas led the way to the bar he had chosen.
You were reminded of the beginning of tour, when everyone had gone out for dinner together. It felt like with this walk the whole journey came to a close.
Everyone was talking and laughing all the way, except for Ryan and you. The whole time you were searching for a good moment to pull him aside, but it was impossible, which only caused your nervousness to skyrocket. Suddenly the realization kicked in that in less than twenty-four hours you would be apart from him, and that if you had not managed to talk to him by then, everything was over. It made you anxious and scared, and made the fear of his reaction even worse.
By the time you reached the bar, you felt sick. None of the others seemed to notice. They were too engulfed by their happiness, which you envied them for.
The bar had a small list of dishes that could still be ordered, and you decided on a cheese sandwich with salad. You were sitting at a small table, the nine of you cramped together, knees bumping against knees, and feet kicking against shins underneath the table, but nobody cared, and laughed instead.
Slowly the relief the others were experiencing, seeped back into you mind, and you started to relax by the time the food arrived.
The sandwich had been fried, and was hot and crispy, the cheese a creamy, stick consistence, and the most delicious you had ever eaten. The others' laughing infected you, and soon you were wiping away tears of laughter, momentarily having forgotten about the situation with Ryan, who sat two seats away from you, staring into his mobile.
You had just finished your salad, when Dallon, who sat between Ryan and you, tapped you knee. Curious you looked at him, and he nodded downwards, underneath the table. Following his eyes, you saw he had his phone in his hand, the screen displaying a post on the band's Instagram page. He pushed the mobile into your hands, signalling to keep it low-key, before he continued his conversation with Luis.
Dallon's phone as warm in your hands, which were cold from your nerves going all haywire. It took you a moment to recognize the first picture of the post Dallon had pulled up to show you. It was a picture of you, standing in a park, from what you remembered several weeks ago, pointing at a swan in the lake in front of you.
Confused you swiped to the second picture, and found that it was another one of you. It was a selfie Ryan and you had taken spontaneously about three weeks back, during a tour through the city. The next picture was you, having fallen asleep on your laptop, head placed on the table next to it, hair falling into your face. More pictures followed, some of which you had not even been aware that they had been taken, but if you were not mistaken, all of them had been shot by Ryan. Finally you noticed the description to the pictures.
"To the invisible ones, the ones behind the camera, whose face never gets captured. To our amazing photographer, (y/n) – RS"
The post had been made just a couple of minutes ago.
Wide eyed you looked over to Ryan, who seemed not to have noticed you, but Dallon did, and took his phone back.
"Everybody, I'd like to make an announcement," Charlie suddenly spoke, gently hitting his fork against his glass. "I know that barely anybody knew about Luis and me being together," from the corner of your eyes you saw Dallon staring at the two men wide eyed, then a smile broke out on his face, "and we wanted to keep it private, but we're done with this now. I asked him to marry me, just after the show tonight, and well, I guess we're engaged now."
He grinned widely, but his voice was almost timid, as if he was scared of the team members' judgement.
"He even had a fucking ring," Luis cheered, holding out his hand to show of a ring you recognized from the display on the market, where you and Lisa had met Charlie.
You had already thought that the kiss the two had shared after Jay had been arrested did not look like a first kiss, and seeing the happiness in your two friends' faces made your heart explode.
"Congratulations," you cheered, and reached over the table to hug both of them the best you could.
"Wait, wait, wait," Bill jumped in, "Charlie, YOU proposed? I always thought it would be Luis."
"Of course it would be Charlie," Jay disagreed, "you really don't know your baby bro, do you?"
Jay and Bill seemed the only ones who had really known about the relationship.
"I'm so happy for you guys," Dallon got up as well hugging the two musicians, and Ryan followed him, "I wish both of you all the very best. You deserve it so much!"
"Yes, 100 percent agreeing with that," Ryan nodded and patted Charlie's back, "All the best!"
Even Lars stood up, and shook their hands in congratulation. Lucas was the only one who did not get up.
"I really didn't see that coming," he mumbled, "please tell me you're not planning on marrying on tour; that would be so much paper work."
Everyone laughed at his comment, and he smiled.
"Seriously guys, I'm happy you found someone to take care of you," he grinned, "Let's make a toast. Waiter, please bring us ten, no, nine glasses of champagne!"
"Eight, and one orange juice," Luis corrected, and winked at Lucas, "still Muslim, still not drinking."
When the champagne was served, the long, fragile glasses making you scared you would break them simply by looking at them, Lucas congratulated the happy couple again, speaking a toast to their happiness and health.
A tingling sensation at the side of your face made you turn your head, and your eyes met Ryan's, who had been staring at you the whole time, but quickly looked away now.
After everything had calmed down again, Dallon got up.
"I need some fresh air, Ryan would you like to join me?"
The both men left the table, and stepped outside the door. Through the window you could see them standing on the side walk, and talking for a while.
You engaged back in the conversation, Jay telling how annoying it had been, having to rehearse with the other two, while they were flirting, but not having the courage to ask each other out.
"Oh I can think of two others like that," Lucas laughed, and by the look of ice Lars was sending over the table, you guessed Lucas was referring to you and Ryan.
In that moment a hand got placed on your shoulder, and you spun around. Standing behind you was Dallon, bending down to talk into your ear.
"He's waiting for me outside, go and talk some sense into him, I beg you," he whispered, then he sat back down casually.
You were not certain if you had understood correctly, but when Dallon nodded towards the window encouragingly, through which you could see Ryan facing away from the bar, you got together the courage you had been building up all evening long, and got up.
The air outside was cool. By now it was end of September, and the weather started to turn from summer into autumn.
"That was quick," Ryan giggled, a sound you missed so desperately, and turned to you, immediately stopping when he noticed that it wasn't Dallon. "Oh, it's you."
"Can we talk?"
You pushed your hands into the pockets of your jeans, hoping to cover up how hard they were shaking.
Ryan looked over his shoulder into the restaurant, and shook his head.
"Don't think that's a good idea," he mumbled, and was about to walk back inside, but you stepped into his way.
"He was, is, lying, you know, Lars," you said, looking directly into Ryan's face, but he avoided your eyes. "He told you I was just using you to win him back, didn't he? He told you that I don't like you, don't- have any interest in you, didn't he?"
Slowly Ryan tore his gaze away from the pavement, and looked at you for a second, trying to make sense of what you were saying. But then he shook his head slightly, more to himself than in reaction to what you had said, as if he knew what you were about to say, but did not want to believe it. Pressing his lips together firmly, he looked away again, making your heart break even more, but you decided that you had to continue talking anyway.
"I found out just that afternoon, but you wouldn't talk to me," you explained.
"So what are you saying," Ryan asked, his voice almost a little shaky, and full of pain.
"I'm saying that I don't like him, not anymore, haven't in a long time," you told him, "he's a selfish prick-" Ryan laughed at that quietly, "and even if he wasn't, even if he'd be a perfect gentleman, he'd never even get close to how – to you."
You wanted Ryan to look up at you, wanted him to tell you that he believed you, that he liked you too, that he had never doubted your affection for him, that he had always known that Lars had lied.
But he did not.
Instead he turned away from you, and ran his hands over his face. For a moment you thought he would turn back to you. Instead he started walking away, not even attempting to look over his shoulder.