Jane had to admit, it was nice to be out with Rob somewhere other than a venue or a rest stop. Those places didn't bother her, either, but something about actually going out for dinner made everything seem a bit more like they were in a relationship and less like they were friends with benefits.

She hadn't been on a dinner date in years, and the excitement of it alone was enough to momentarily relieve the exhaustion she was feeling. But in reality, over the past week, any moment she got with Rob made her feel excited - intimate or not. Something about him caused her to experience this insatiable desire for him.

He began to talk about what happened to him during the interview, how it made him feel and why he acted the way he did. After reaching a hand over to his, she silently nodded as he spoke as she kept his eye contact. Guilt started to creep in - guilt for making him feel like he did something terrible, and more guilt for not asking what was bothering him sooner.

Jane squeezed his hand gently as he finished and straightened her posture. "Look," she began, working up the courage to look him in the eyes. "You didn't do anything wrong. I guess I forget sometimes that not everyone is like me. Sounds dumb, yeah?"

Her voice was completely shot at this point, and with a set coming up in only a few hours, she was beginning to get nervous.

"I forget that people actually care about stuff like privacy and not blurting every opinion that comes up. Not that I really talk about how I feel, but I usually don't try to hide the way something affects me, you know?" She cleared her throat and took a sip of the water that sat next to the beer. "And I was trying for a long time to not let all the questions bother me, 'cause I wanted to keep not caring. When I found myself starting to get self-conscious about what they were saying about me, it freaked me out."

Her eyes, which had wandered to the view of the restaurant, finally made their way back to his, and she smiled faintly.

"I'll be more private when we do interviews, yeah? I don't wanna say anything you're uncomfortable with." She nodded. "I really don't mind. Just..." Her voice trailed off in pain momentarily, making her since. "Just tell me, okay? Talk to me. Tell me how you feel. Tell if I'm doing something wrong. You know you can always confide in me. I'm not like that girl Hayden or whatever." She stuck a tongue out at him to show him she meant the last statement lightheartedly.

"I promise, I won't make you feel stupid for whatever you're going through."

The tickle in the back of her throat became too much to bear, and she backed out from the table a bit as she covered her mouth with the cloth napkin as she coughed.

"Fuck, man," she mumbled as it eventually ceased. "If it wasn't Chicago, I'd probably ask to cancel the set tonight." Jane wasn’t sure if she was getting sick or if she was just truly overdoing it, but the undeniable fact that she needed a good break soon would not let itself be forgotten.

The waiter came to grab their plates and give them the check, and after finishing their drinks, they left the restaurant arm in arm, bullshitting and laughing with one another. It felt as though the burden that had been sitting on both of their shoulders have been relieved, at least for now, and Jane was enjoying the feeling of not having Rob having any resentment towards her.

Once they got back to the room, after a shower and spending some alone time together, Jane worked to make a cup of tea with honey, lemon, and a shot of whiskey as she got ready. She figured she would just have to be honest with the crowd instead of trying to mask how shitty her voice was going to sound. God, why couldn’t have Harold listened to her in the first place? She told him that the way things were booked that she’d give out too soon, but he didn’t take her seriously.

Jane brought her tea and a joint onto the patio of the hotel room and rested for a moment before the madness of a late set would ensue once again. She had gotten dressed in a long black tee shirt, a pair of shorts underneath, and a floral snap-back that sat backwards on her head, which she fidgeted with as she stared off into the night sky. Her other hand, its fingers pinching the joint, grazed her arm; the sensation

Her phone buzzed once on the glass table that sat on the patio, startling her. “Shit,” she whispered as she picked it up and rubbed her eyes so that they could focus on the screen.

Austin: We’re leaving in five. No talking!
Jane: Got it, boss.

Upon entering the room, her gaze locked on Rob, and she immediately made her way over to him in the kitchen, making a gesture to explain that she wasn’t talking before the show. No matter how awful she felt, it seemed as though it couldn't keep her from wanting to touch him. She reached her hands up to the sides of his face and pulled him down to her so that she could kiss him, but once she started, she couldn’t stop. Instead, she jumped up into his arms like usual and began to kiss his neck and collarbones when her phone vibrated in her pocket once again.

She groaned and showed him the text:

Austin: Van’s waiting.

A smirked was flashed at Rob as Jane grabbed the bag that had been tossed on the floor and made her way past him to exit the room.

Her feelings were growing out of control, which was normally something that wouldn’t concern her, but this time she had a lot more to lose if things went south.

”Get a hold of yourself, Jane.”

--------------------------

Austin and Sam had convinced Jane to stay in the van until their set so that she 1) didn’t have to talk to any fans or crew, and 2) didn’t drink or smoke too much, potentially making her voice worse. They brought her a few beers from the rider and made sure she was content before heading into the venue without her.

It was strange being in the van alone. While it was usually filled with loud music, debates, and snoring, it was now silent, making Jane’s ears ring, but she convinced herself that maybe some quiet time would be good for the mind. It didn’t last long, though, when a knock came on the van door, and she popped up from the fetal position she was in to see who it was.

“Hey,” Andy greeted her as he climbed into the van and sat on the row of seats in front of hers. “Heard your chords are fried.”
Jane nodded as she rolled her eyes. “It sucks,” she squeaked.
“Shh, don’t talk,” he waved a hand at her. “Just came to check in. Text me if you need anything.”
She smiled and mouthed a ‘thank you’ before he left the van as quickly as he entered.

Not a minute later, Austin popped his head into the van and alerted Jane that they had five minutes until the set. Jane squeezed her eyes shut and sighed – if there was one night on the tour that she really, really didn’t feel like getting up there, giving every ounce of energy she possessed to strangers, it was tonight.

Austin frowned. “I know, J. We checked your mic already. I talked with the crew and the guys. We’re only gonna do five songs tonight. We’ll get out of here as soon as we finish. Okay?”
“Alright,” she whispered.
“Let’s go.”

Austin took her hand to help her out of the van and into the venue. On top of her throat hurting, she was starting to not feel too well. Pure and utter tiredness. She had probably not only been performing too much, but overdoing it with her vices – something all to common for her.

Jane sipped on a cup of warm water as she watched the crew testing all the cable connections and microphones one last time before they were given their cue. Her eyes scanned the side stage area until they found Rob. Where had he been? Before she had a chance to go over to him, they were signaled to get on stage. Great.

The crowd cheered as the all took their places, and Jane waved a hand to the audience. “Hi, everyone. We’re In Bloom from Long Beach, California.”
The crowd did their usual “Woooo.”
“Thank you, thank you. Okay, so if you can’t tell, my voice is really fucked up tonight. I need you guys to help me out, okay? Sing everything as loud as you can.”
Another “Wooooo.”
"Alright, cool."

The bright lights felt more intense than ever before, especially as she pushed on through the short set. She had even resorted to sitting on the front of the stage for an entire song but tried to play it off as if it was for fun rather than to keep going. Thankfully, the crowd knew most if not all of the lyrics, and they showed excitement as passed the microphone to them for parts Jane knew she wouldn't be able to perform.

--------------------------

Jane nearly stumbled off the stage down to the backstage area as soon as the last song came to an end. She placed her hands on her knees and doubled over as her lungs wheezed, making a sound similar to barking as she coughed. And coughed. And coughed. Each one more painful than the last. One of the crew members rushed to get her a cup of water, which as soon as she was able to, she downed in an instant. “Shit.” What had been left of her voice before the show now was reduced to a raspy whisper.

Light-headed from the coughing, she sunk down to the floor against the back wall and breathed deeply. Austin came up to her and knelt down. “We’re leaving in just a few. They’re packing up now.”
Jane nodded as she wiped the sweat from her forehead with her arm. The dizziness wasn’t subsiding, and she rested her head on her knees to stop the room from spinning in front of her. She knew she had pushed her body too far the past month, but she didn’t think it would get to this point. She felt stupid. Stupid, and pissed off.

Rob was thankful that whatever discord had been struck with Jane over the past days seemed to have been over, although he tried not to wince at the mention of Hayden’s name. Something about having other people know about those events bothered him—even though he knew he had told Jane just the bare essentials.

Jane backed away and coughed next; the signs of the long road they had traveled clearing behind to come up to haunt her. With drums, the road provided little more than a few nasty blisters. But for a voice, the constant strain was probably something that grew quickly intolerable.

“I wish I could do something about that,” he said to himself. “If I could, I would.”

…

At the hotel, Rob watched as Jane slipped away from him, and prepared some sort of mixture for her drink. As she did, Rob picked up the clothes that had be strewn about in the hours between the cafe and how. Normally, Rob folded his clothes immediately after discarding them, but sometimes…that wasn’t important.

Rob smiled as he finished cleaning up, and moved into the kitchen himself, pulling out another energy drink, sure that he didn’t need it but confident he wanted it regardless. Jane had slipped out onto the patio, and by the time he had finished his drink, he slipped back in, raising a hand to signal: vocal rest.

However, the rest was merely for her speech, because soon enough, she was all over him once again. Only a text message interrupted their time together, and reluctantly Rob pulled away as she did, knowing it was time to leave.

It was odd of Rob be in a relationship where—at least so far—it seemed that Jane was initiating physicality far more than he would. Which was by no mean a bad thing, and was not a sign that Rob disliked it at all. It was fucking great. It was just that, after so many years of initiating, failed serious relationships and prolonged one-night stands, he felt a bit odd playing passive in the role instead of active.

It was something he thought about he and the boys left the van at the venue, leaving Jane to herself.

He had waited behind just for a bit, tucking a few stray hairs of hers into her snapback and pulling her close to him. His fingers grazed her jawline, across to the back of her head, and slipped into her hair as he kissed her.

“If you need me,” he said, barely louder than a whisper, “let me know.”

He pressed his lips to hers once again, this time sliding a hand across, grasping her side, but pulling away once he realized he had started to slip atop her unconsciously.

“Sorry,” he said, composing himself. He tried to listen the mood. “I guess once a day isn’t enough, apparently. Get some rest.”

As he exited the van, he was surprised to find Sam and Austin waiting around the corner.

“Jesus,” Austin joked, “I thought I was about to see you two fu—“

“Yeah, yeah,” Rob pushed off. “So, about the set.”

“We’re thinking like, five songs max.” Sam said. “She’s in no condition to do much more.”

“Sam called Harold earlier,” Austin continued, “we had a few press things scheduled tomorrow, but he’s wiping it. We’ll just be stuck in Milwaukee all day.”

After another few minutes of logistics, it was time for sound check, and Rob quickly played out a few notes, corrected his bass drum response, and slipped off stage to find a text message:

7:25, Zoe: Heard your singer is out of commission.

7:26, Rob: Not totally, but yeah. She’s resting now.

7:28, Zoe: Then come keep me company on this bus. Trent’s off fucking a roadie and between you and me, David’s not exactly riveting.

Within another ten minutes, Zoe and Rob were in the back of the bus, playing different tracks off of The Wall by Pink Floyd and (obviously) passing a joint between them.

“Shit, I’m telling you,” Zoe said through a laugh, more relaxed than ever, “this was my first prog record. Everyone starts with Dark Side but nope. Not me. I had to do The Wall. Man, by the the time The Trial came on, I couldn’t tell if I was imagining that shit.”

“I started with Dark Side,” Rob admitted. “My friend made me sit through The White Album, and I was telling him about how safe it was. And he just hands me this LP and goes ‘dude…you haven’t heard anything yet.’”

It was nice to talk about his formative years like this. His experiences with his parents and other former lovers had all been so negative, he had used music as his escape. And, like most teenagers coming of age, bands like Pink Floyd and The Beatles had introduced him to some incredible concepts. Like the gateway drug to music beyond the Top 40.

As they talked, “The Trial” came on next, and Rob and Zoe chanted the famous judge’s verses together, before jokingly yelling, “tear down the wall!” Over, and over again, until David made an appearance, asking both of them to tone it down. It was time to leave regardless, and Rob slipped backstage a few moments before seeing Jane across the stage. He smiled, but had no time to ask her how she had felt, before taking the stage and completing the show.

Afterwards, Rob moved other to Jane to try and congratulate her on persevering, but found her stooped over, seeming like she was about to vomit right there, on the side of the stage. Instead of trying to ask what was wrong (mainly because that seemed pretty bloody obvious), he sat with her, waiting until it was time to leave, before helping her back to the room and sitting her down.

“Hey,” Rob reassured, “whatever you need me to get, I can go get. We got Harold to cancel press tomorrow, so once we get to Milwaukee, we have the day off.”

He slipped away quickly to the kitchen to gather more water, but thought for a moment about what he had said.

Somewhere along the course of the trip, he knew Lena was supposed to arrive. The seemingly estranged roommate, he knew, was told about what was going on between Jane and Rob, but wasn’t mad about that? Right?

Bringing her water, Rob sat and asked: “What happened with Lena?”

He waited for a moment, then followed: “You don’t have to answer that if you don’t want to. Just rest.”

He wasn’t sure why he had thought of her in the first place. Although, knowing Lena’s relationship to Jane in the past, he wasn’t sure he wanted her around.

Jane was usually too prideful to let anyone take care of her, but she found it hard not to take pleasure in how sweet and attentive Rob was being when they had gotten back to the hotel room. Getting her water, sitting with her, scratching her head - it was all making a situation like this much better.

She had grabbed his arm and began to run it weakly when Lena was brought up. She always seemed to be the first one Jane forgot about; why did Lena still feel the way she did after all of the things Jane did?

She sighed and shook her head. "She wanted to fly out for tonight’s show, but after our last phone call, I'm not surprised she didn't." She swallowed to try to coat her throat before continuing. "She wasn't too happy about what was going on with you and me."

The guys always gave Lena a lot of shit for who she was: she liked Top 40 music, she did yoga and liked wine, and she took an unforgivable amount of selfies. She was 'basic.' But, they also didn't really get to see the other parts of her that Jane did. She was unintentionally funny, super sarcastic, and she had an almost maternal instinct, especially with Jane. Lena would always berate her for not taking care of herself, was probably the only reason she drank so much water now, and would force her to rest when she didn't want to. Even after Jane had left without saying a word to her, Lena had called and only asked about how she was. Not about the rent, not about how much she hurt her, not about what it all meant.

Lena would probably flip if she heard what was happening right now. If they were at home, she’d be treating Jane the same way Rob was. It made her think what she did to deserve so many people that cared about her?

In her mind, the answer was nothing. Jane lived without regard for others. She was selfish and impulsive.

Jane grabbed Rob’s arm and pulled him down so that he would lay with her. With his head on her chest, she softly ran her fingers through his hair. “You know,” her weak voice whispered, “you’re pretty cute for a nurse.” She placed her fingers on his chin and tilted his head up so that she could look at him. “Seriously, though. Thanks for taking care of me tonight. And all the other nights you have. I never tell you enough.”

Perhaps it was because she was feeling so poorly or just worn down, but her thoughts were much more self-deprecating that night than usual, and in a barely audible tone, Jane put those thoughts in to words: “I don’t deserve it.”

She leaned down and kissed his forehead gently. “Good night, Rob.”

----------------------

Jane stirred for a few minutes before finally accepting that she was awake. It was 9:23 AM, much later than she normally slept, which she assumed was because of how tired she was. The drive to Milwaukee would only take an hour and a half, but she was having trouble recalling what time they said they’d leave. 10:30? 11:30?

She groaned softly as she rubbed her eyes and looked over to Rob, whose back was facing her. After a moment’s pause, Jane propped herself up, threw an arm over his torso, and tugged at his body so that he would roll over to face her. Before even confirming he was conscious yet, she crawled on top of him. “Hey,” she involuntarily whispered as she sat on top of him. “Sorry to wake you.” A smirk formed on her lips before she leaned down to kiss his chest, shoulders, neck, and then finally his lips. “Why don’t we – “

Knock-knock-knock. “Damn it,” she mumbled in frustration. “I’ll be right back.”

She grabbed the sheet that was piled up on the side of the bed and wrapped it around herself before waddling to the door and opening it slightly.

Austin laughed as soon as he saw her. “Dude, I’ve been texting you all morning. Van leaves in 20 minutes.”
“Oh,” Jane replied as she squinted her eyes in thought. She had no idea where her phone was. “Sorry.”
He scowled for a moment as his eyes scanned her up and down. “You know you’re supposed to be resting, right?”
She rolled her eyes. “See you soon.”

As soon as she reentered the room, she threw the sheet back on the bed and crawled in next to Rob. “I guess we’re leaving in twenty,” she announced in a louder tone, causing her voice to crackle. “It only takes me five to get ready.”

----------------------

The van ride, much to Jane’s approval, was a short one to Milwaukee. Her head rested in Rob’s lap and her feet were buried in between the wall of the van and the seat – the opposite of her normal sleeping position. Due to Austin and Sam’s presence, she didn’t say one word without being told to stop talking, so she resorted to silence for nearly the entire trip.

She felt as though she had gotten hit by a bus, and Harold had asked her to text her symptoms to him so that he could consult with her doctor back home. When her phone buzzed underneath her, she wasn’t excited to see what it entailed.

Harold: The doc said you’re probably suffering from fatigue and minor damage to your vocal cords. He said to lay off the drugs and alcohol and to stay in bed for at least today and tomorrow. Stay hydrated. DON’T TALK.
Jane: Got it. Thanks, Harold.
Harold: Your roommate should be there by the time you guys arrive at the hotel.

Jane nearly screamed when she read his last text. Lena was coming there? Now? She didn’t have the energy for a possible confrontation. It was as if their conversation last night was an omen.

She flashed the screen to Rob to show him the news, and when she felt he had processed it, she tossed her phone on the floor and turned her body inwards so that she faced his stomach. Her eyes only lingered on his for a moments before they fluttered shut, lulling her into a deep sleep for the remainder of the trip.

She was awoken about an hour later to the sound of the rustling in the van made by everyone exiting. Jane immediately looked up to Rob and forced a smile, hoping that Lena’s presence here wouldn’t cause any issue between them. Whatever went on between them paled in comparison to what she had with Rob, and as if to try to prove it, her arms reached up to his neck – partly to help her up, partly to bring him down to her. Her kiss was slow and passionate, one she wouldn’t dare give him if the others were still in the van, and as she pulled away, she couldn’t help but smile. Hopefully Rob could do without any verbal sentiments from her for now.

Lena was sitting on a couch in the lobby while the band dragged in their luggage, and Jane nodded at Rob before she approached her.

“Lena, I – “
“Shhh,” she scolded her as she stood up to hug her. “You’re not supposed to talk. Let me guess – you want to know why I’m here.”
Jane nodded, trying to mask any hint that she’d be upset. She wasn’t though; it was nice seeing Lena. It was like a small piece of home.
“I know you’re seeing Rob. Whatever, I can’t control that. But, I still care about you, Jane. I wasn’t gonna come out, really, but when Harold told me you were…” Lena’s voice trailed off as her eyes scanned Jane’s face. “God, this is harder than I thought it’d be.”
Jane frowned and shook her head. She felt awful for causing her to feel this way.
“I was just worried about you. You were so crazy back home, I can’t imagine what you’re like out here. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.” Lena’s eyes had now been directed at the floor. “What happened sucks. It made me feel really shitty. But I’m not mad at you. I know you didn’t have any intention to hurt me.”
Jane nodded and smiled faintly to agree with what she said.
“I have some family out here that I’m staying with tonight and for the next few days. I was long overdue to see them, anyway. But, if it’s okay with you, can I bring some food to your room for dinner? We could hang out.” Lena’s eyes had made their way back to Jane, although there was no confidence behind them.
After straightening her posture, Jane nodded. It was the least she could do for her. Lena had traveled such a long distance just to check on her. Rob would understand, right?

They said their goodbyes, and Jane found the room, threw her bag on the floor, and leaned up against the door, sighing and rubbing the bridge of her nose. She wasn’t sure why she felt so stressed; Lena didn’t seem to be upset with her, everything with Rob seemed to be fine, and she was allotted two days to, for once, do absolutely nothing.

Perhaps it was because things never seemed to go smoothly for too long.

Rob sat wordlessly for pretty much the entire trip upward and westward to Milwaukee. Knowing Jane hadn’t gotten must rest that past night and morning (and their ever-more-frequent eloping wasn’t helping that fact), so she slept upon Rob’s lap, and he ran his fingers through her hair softly as she rested.

It was a not-so-pleasant surprise to see a text from Harold on Jane’s phone, detailing how Lena was going to be waiting on them in Milwaukee. The fact that someone would come now, when Jane was feeling her worst, was bad enough; it didn’t help that Rob and Lena weren’t exactly friends.

Lena wasn’t a bad person, in Rob’s eyes. She just seemed to lack the depth that he typically looked for in friendships and partners. Whether there was more to her than her poor taste in music or her constant self-obsession, Rob wasn’t sure, but surely doubted. Jane, knowing prior events, probably did not feel the same way.

He nodded to Jane, letting her set her phone down and roll over, sleeping soundly. Not wanting to disturb her, he passed his opportunity on the AUX chord and requested Sam and Austin keep the choices more acoustic than electric. They did so, and a soft, calming acoustic guitar song filled the car: Death of A Salesman, by Low.

Rob had heard the soft previously, and softly sang the lines to himself, almost like a melancholy lullaby:

”I forgot all my songs
The words now are wrong
And I burned my guitar in a rage
But the fire came to rest
In your white velvet breast
So somehow I just know that it's safe”

…

At the hotel, Rob waited for Jane as she went off to Lena. The two made brief eye contact, before Lena turned her attention away from him and to Jane. While he knew the two well enough to know he hadn’t a thing to worry about in terms of infidelity, he certainly felt a small sense of jealously—the two had a different bond than he and Jane, and while it may not have been as deep or as vivid, the knowledge that Lena knew a different Jane that he may have felt a bit emasculating. But, perhaps, it was just his inner voice telling him things, as it had done so many times previously.

He made it to the hotel room in relative silence, doing his best to take care of Jane as she had done for him. Memories of his last brush with cocaine slipped through his mind; the thought of his body drooling uncontrollably on the hotel floor haunted him. It was the least he could to do be near her.

They spent that time in between arrival and dinner, talking much less than usual (for her sake), but enjoying each others company, watching music, and having a good time.

Somewhere in between their day off, Rob had stepped into the bathroom, and noticed a notification on his phone:

4:45, Harold: Call me.

Rob sighed, but complied, and raised his phone to his ear.

“How’s Lena?” He asked first.

“We haven’t spoken. Jane tells me she’s coming up tonight with some food for dinner.”

“Do you need to be there?”

Rob thought for a moment, before: “Probably not.”

“Good. Because I was hoping you could do me a favor.”

The way Harold’s voice spat out favor over the distorted audio made it sound like much more of a demand than a request. Although, it wasn’t very surprising to Rob. He had to pay his penance for his outburst sometime. He had gotten off far too easy.

“An interview?” Rob guessed.

A brief silence on the other end confirmed his suspicions, then: “There’s a shop in town dedicated to strictly drum-related stuff. They’d like you to swing in, play a few kits, sign some hardware, and give an interview. And before you ask: I’ve specifically told them not to discuss the single.”

“Not a word?” Rob clarified.

“You have every right to leave if they do,” Harold said, “but I can’t stop them from asking you off the record.”

Rob thought about it for a moment, and quickly realized that, if he stayed with Lena and Jane, he would only be the third wheel. The two were exceedingly close to one another, and Rob was definitely not. And knowing all the shit he had gotten the band into recently, being mad at a roommate was something he wanted to avoid. Perhaps this interview would at least keep the media attention from boiling over. Besides—he hadn’t made a single press appearance since the incident.

“When do I go?” Rob conceded.

“Whenever you want,” Harold said, “I’m texting you the address now.”

Soon after the phone conversation, Rob finished up in the bathroom and slipped back into the living room, taking his seat by Jane.

“So, I’ve been thinking,” Rob said, hating the cliched words the moment they escaped his lips, “and you’ve seen a ton of me recently, and you haven’t seen Lena in weeks. When she comes over, I’ll probably slip out. Harold wants me to do this interview to make amends for my last one, and…I probably should.”

After a bit of time, Lena came over, and Rob quietly excused himself, knowing Lena would probably take it as a slight, but seeing no better alternative.

“I’ll be back when it ends,” Rob said, before closing the door behind him.

…

One taxi ride later, just as the sun was setting outside, Rob slipped into the music store Harold had told him about.

Beside maybe two crates of records and a few guitars on a slide wall, the place was littered with hardware for drums: rides, crashes, petals, stands, and pretty much anything else someone would want.

Soon enough, the man giving the interview came up and introduced himself.

“Hey,” he smiled, “I’m Graham, with The Iron Throne.”

The two shook hands, with Rob trying hard not to laugh at the name.

He led him over to the kit they had set up in the center of the room, with a few interested patrons and fans lining the perimeter. He sat down, and looked to the floor.

“Can I get a double bass petal?” he asked. Soon enough, one was supplied to him, and thinking of something to play for the crowd, he figured that he may as well play the song he had practiced, year after year, learning how to play drums.

So he cranked out the first minute or two of Panic Attack by Dream Theater, his favorite song. The crowd clapped enthusiastically as he finished, and the interview soon began.

Graham: Thanks for sitting down with us, Rob. We’ve been keeping up with your technical style for a while now, and we just wanted to say, thank you for bringing something interesting to the genre.

Rob: Thank you. You see too many drummers getting locked into five or six patterns, and never really venturing out. There’s so much that could be done on a kit, and I appreciate being recognized for trying.

Graham: Absolutely. Now, could you just give us a bit of background for those unfamiliar with In Bloom?

Rob: That’s a big question. [laughs] Where do I start?

Graham: At the beginning.

…

The podcast interview actually went on for almost an hour. Rob explained everything from their initial meeting from the same location, to the identity crisis in sound from the early days of the first few EP’s to, to finally playing a statewide tour, before embarking on this latest one in support of their newest record.

It was a fun trip down memory lane for Rob, and for once, an interviewer solely asked about the music. What the thought process was behind their second EP. What the lyrics meant on an older song Rob had been credited. Things of that nature, that really made Rob feel comfortable in his own skin.

Afterwards, Rob stuck around, talking to listeners in the store and signing literally each thing shoved in front of him. Normally, he would find a way away from the fans. But today? He couldn’t count how many pictures he had taken with people. As is turned out, Milwaukee was a pretty nice place.

All in all, it had been about a two-and-a-half hour experience, and Rob waited in an employee lounge, discussing music with the leftover workers, and texted Jane:

Just finishing up. How are things on your end?

While waiting for a reply, he received a text, but not from Jane.

8:02, Zoe: Trent got those edibles he was telling you about, if you want to swing by. Milwaukee is boring me.

Rob hesitated for a moment, thinking of what next to do. Ultimately, it seemed it would come down to Jane and Lena.

Whatever they had done in the time he had been away.

The afternoon spent with Rob was completely relaxing. They spent most of the time in bed, watching YouTube and Netflix and lounging lazily in the hotel room together. He was still being so giving; he got her anything that she needed and let her use him as a body pillow for most of the day, which briefly put her to sleep a couple of times.

Throughout the day, Jane got herself staring at Rob intently. Of course, part of it was lustfully (nearly everything Jane did was part lustful), but something else was there. For the past seven years, Jane always loved to be around Rob; he was her closest friend. But now, he was becoming something she didn’t want to go without, akin to her relationship with mind-altering substances. It was a terrifying yet thrilling feeling – something that she wasn’t ready to explain yet. Yes, this side of their relationship was new, but their bond was old. She had always loved him. She probably always would.

Jane and Rob were in the middle of making out like two high schoolers when a knock at the door came, causing a sigh. She wasn’t upset that Lena was coming over, but she truly didn’t want the afternoon to end with Rob.

After looking in the mirror in the room to straighten herself out, she opened to door to let Lena in.
“Hey,” she whispered as she waved a hand to welcome her in.
Lena had a bag of Chinese food in her hand and a large water bottle, and she went to the kitchen’s island to set it all down. “Jesus, Jane. This is nice.”
Jane nodded. “A little too fancy for my taste, but I guess we can afford it.” She had found out that whispering didn’t put a strain on her throat, although she knew she would have to limit her talking. She grabbed the food from the island and walked it to the living room area.
“This is for you,” Lena said sternly as she brought over the water bottle and sat next to Jane on the couch. “Drink it.”
“Yes, ma’am,” she obeyed as she opened it and took a swig before looking over to see that Rob was leaving.

”I’ll be back when it ends.”

She tried not to frown as she waved him farewell.
“Where’s he going?” Lena asked as she watched Rob leave.
“Interview.”
Lena laughed. “Do you think it’s gonna go as well as the last one?”
Jane rolled her eyes. “He’ll be fine.”

The night went off without a hitch; Lena and Jane were able to talk and laugh together like old times with no mention of what happened between them, much to Jane’s approval.

Jane had gotten up to grab a joint out of her bag, and she cracked the sliding glass door for ventilation.
“Jane, no!” Lena said as she plucked it from her fingers. “You’re not supposed to smoke.”
She groaned. “I haven’t been sober this long in months. I’m laying off the cigarettes the best I can. Please, give me the fucking joint.”
Lena sighed and glared at her before giving it back. “You’re hard to say no to.”
Jane grinned with satisfaction. “I know,” she whispered as she worked to ignite the end of it, and once successful, blowing the smoke towards the door. She handed the joint to Lena, who shook her head.
“You know I don’t smoke.”
Jane shrugged. “Just thought I’d offer.”

Around the two hour mark of their night together, Lena got off the couch and stretched out. “I’m gonna head out. My aunt lives an hour north.” She offered a hand to Jane to help her up.
“I’ll walk you to the door,” Jane replied as she took Lena’s hand and stood up slowly. Once they made it to the threshold, she opened the door, but Lena stopped and turned around.
“I had a lot of fun tonight.”
Jane nodded. “Me too. Thanks for the food, as well.” She hugged Lena tightly for a moment, but when she tried to release her, Lena held on.
“Sorry,” Lena shook her head as she pulled a way to look up at Jane.
She knew that look. It was a dangerous one. One, if Jane had more time, would run away from now.
Jane’s suspicions were accurate, and Lena nearly shoved her against the wall as she kissed her abruptly.
Instinct kicked in for Jane, and she began to kiss her back, but only for about five seconds before she realized what was happening. She pushed Lena off of her. “Lena, I can’t.”
She scoffed. “You can’t what, Jane?”
“I can’t do this, Lena.” Her voice cracked as the volume raised. “It’s not fair to Rob.”
“And it’s not fair to me, either!” Lena’s voice also grew louder. “I got left behind in the fucking dust while you ran off on tour and completely forgot about me.”
“Oh, come on, Lena. I was very clear whenever this,” Jane had waved her hands around, “started happening that I didn’t want anything serious.”
“And now you do with Rob?” Lena crossed her arms and stood firmly in front of her. She was used to Jane running away from confrontation, but she wasn’t going to let that happen now.
Jane squeezed her eyes shut and scratched her head. “I don’t know, Lena,” she mumbled under her breath.
“Oh my god. You think you’re in love with him, don’t you?” Her eyes were nearly bulging out of her head. “You’re joking, right?” Lena adjusted her purse strap on her arm and began to move towards the door. “Poor Rob.”
Jane followed her towards the door. “What the hell does that mean?”
Lena had made it into the hallway by now, but she turned back to look at Jane with an unforgiving glare. “You’re gonna squeeze whatever you can get out of him, then fuck him over. Just like you do with everyone else you meet. You’re gonna keep fucking everyone over until there’s no one left to love you, then you’re gonna be alone.”
Her words cut Jane deeply, so much so that she felt tears well up in her eyes. “That’s not true,” her voice wavered.
“Really? It’s not, Jane?” Lena rolled her eyes. “Don’t come crawling back to me when you break his heart, too.”

Lena left down the hallway and entered an elevator, but Jane didn’t reenter the hotel room until she was sure Lena had left. She slammed the door shut and threw her phone across the room that had been in her hand, making a shattering noise somewhere in the living room.

What if Lena was right? What if Jane, for the rest of her existence, was doomed to be someone that destroys everyone and everything in her path until she’s left with nothing else? Was she putting Rob in harm’s way by growing so attached to him?

Jane instantly felt nauseated as her head swarmed with self-deprecating thoughts, and she plunged into bed and buried herself under the pillows and comforter before letting out a quiet whimper. The last thing she would want to do is breath the heart of the man that had always been there for her.

She had never met her father (supposedly Jane was a product of a one night stand) and her two older brothers’ father was never too interested in raising Jane. Her mom had divorced him long before Jane came along. After Jane’s mother died from complications of alcoholism, her brothers had tried to intervene, telling Jane that she needed to get her life together before she ended up in the same boat. Instead of seeing it as helpful, Jane took it as a slap in the face, and her brothers told her that until changed her ways, they would no longer keep in contact with her. Staying true to her ego, she agreed and stopped reaching out to them.

Jane’s heart hurt at the thought of losing the only close man she had left in her life. Could she keep herself from ruining things? Possibly. There was also the possibility that the relationship wouldn’t work out, and their friendship after that would be too awkward to continue. Or Rob could grow tired of her antics.

She heard the text notification from her phone wherever it had landed in the living room, but Jane couldn’t conjure up the energy to go get it. A day that had been so nice had turned to shit. All she wanted was Rob to be there. But she couldn't fight sleep's call after the emotional toll the night had taken on her.

Rob waited another thirty minutes for Jane to respond, and even tried calling, but there wasn’t any response. He was beginning to overstay his welcome at the store he was at, and Zoe was waiting.

Was something wrong? Surely not. I mean, Jane had a thing with Lena, but it was Lena, not some stranger or guy. Jane can handle that. I think…

After some thought, I shot a text to Zoe:

8:40, Rob: Alright. Where am I going?

…

Vicarious’ van was parked in a Wal-Mart, of all places. Certainly, with a band as large as Vicarious, the venue would’ve let them park with them for a night?

Judging by the sight in front of Rob? Evidently not.

He knocked on the door, and was greeted by Andy—standing shirtless, with a toothbrush sticking out from his mouth.

“Oh,” his voice came, distorted by the toothbrush. “Izz you.”

“It’s me,” Rob repeated, waiting for Andy to step aside for him to enter the van.

“Whrzz Jay?” Andy asked. The way his face read seemed a bit more frustrated than usual. Almost like he was mad at Rob.

“With a friend,” Rob said, slipping past him and hoping to making a break for the back room, as he usually did.

“Whateevr, mearn,” he muttered to himself, spitting frothy dribbles of toothpaste and saliva out of his mouth as he did. Rob didn’t much else to say, so he slipped off, closing the door behind him.

Surprisingly, it was just Zoe in here—she laid out by herself, her body sprawled across the bed, her eyes down into her phone. Behind her, Get It Together by De Saat played over the speakers, filling the room with the dance-worthy tone. Her eyes only looked up once Rob had ensured the door was closed.

“Where’s Trent?” Rob asked.

“Wal-Mart” She said. Her hand patted the free space beside her. “Come check this out.”

Nodding, Rob moved forward, laying across the bed next to her, looking to the phone. On there, Zoe pointed to the article on the screen: Rob Pennie may not be an asshole, after all

“Good,” Rob muttered. “Glad to know I’m not an asshole.”

“What I’m really wondering,” Zoe asked, “is if you all really did drive around in a Camry for your stateside tour two years ago.”

Shit, Rob thought to himself. She listened to the podcast. Had it already come out? That was just an hour ago!

“Yeah,” he said. “You try loading a whole band’s equipment into a Camry sometime. It wasn’t easy. We slept in the same clothes for like a week.”

For some reason, each encounter Rob had with Zoe was more and more disarming. She seemed to have this way about her. She was direct, but not pushy. She said what she thought and pointed out what she felt needed to be. In some ways, it had been the opposite of what he and Jane were sometimes; overthinking, wondering, hoping not to offend the other. Rob worried so often about how to ensure he didn’t fuck things up with Jane. Zoe didn’t seem to worry about anything. And that difference was relaxing.

Down at their feet, Rob felt Zoe’s leg slip atop his own leg—her jeans against his, and her boot against and on top of his own shoe. Despite his better judgement, Rob let the physical contact slide. It was just a legs and feet. That didn’t mean a thing.

Right?

“Here,” Zoe said, scrolling down. “The comments are the best part.”

Rob looked to what she had pointed out, reaching each comment as she passed by:

Anyone else think this was just a PR stunt? Dude was a total asshole with Simon. This doesn’t fix a thing.

I like how he pointed out how fun it was to make that last EP. You can really tell. I mean, don’t get me wrong, Ways and Means is good, but seriously. The older stuff kicks ass.

Look, Rob can have his own opinion, but the single kicks ass. I dunno what the hell he’s on about.

Is no one else listening to Vicarious? Just me? Because that band is miles better than this Paramore shit.

“You ever notice that any female-led band gets compared to Paramore relentlessly?” Zoe asked. “I swear, they should call that shit William’s Law or something.”

“Any band with a female singer must and will be compared to Paramore,” Rob played along. “William’s Law. Has a ring to it.”

Zoe laughed brightly, and showed a smile he hadn’t seen before. It wasn’t just happiness. But, something about the way her eyes shone. Behind him, he could feel Zoe’s leg slip more over to him, and her body slipped closer to him.

What the hell is she doing?

Before he could get an answer, the door opened, and Trent slipped in. Rob hardly had time to recognize him before Zoe hopped off the bed, moving to the iPod responsible for the music.

“Trent’s here,” she joked. “Back to that Stoner Rock shit.”

“Fuck off,” Trent said. He reached over to a drawer and pulled out a few ziplock bags; the edibles he had talked about. “Trust me when I say, you’re not ready for this shit.” He said, tossing the bag to the bed.

…

Soon enough, three hours had passed, and Rob was higher than he could ever remember being. So much so, Trent and Zoe had to get the address to his hotel out of him, so they could call him a cab. He fell over into the back of the cab, laughing at a face Trent had made almost an hour ago.

“I’m so sorry,” Rob said between bursts of laughter to his driver, who said nothing. By the time he got back to the hotel, he had sobered up to act normal. It was then that he thought about what Zoe had done in the bus.

Rob had a huge history of misreading signs from prospective lovers. As time went on, he typically didn’t go out socializing or looking into the bar scene for sex, but mainly through friend-of-friends and Jane, of all people. She had actually suggested Lena at one point, years ago it felt like, but the thought of it was wrong then and even now.

He dropped his key card twice, before finally getting into the room. In here was quiet and dark, and there wasn’t a sign of Jane’s roommate to be found. Rob reached into his jacket pocket and set over leftovers from the bus, before scanning the hotel for Jane.

After some searching, he found her phone—shattered, laying near a wall in the living room. On it, notifications still glowed between the jagged cracks of what used to be her screen.

Fuck.

An overwhelming sense of guilt swept over Rob. Whatever had happened with Jane, it wasn’t good. And it certainly wasn’t something he should have been away from.

Why hadn’t he come back when he had the chance? Here he was, high and happy, slipping in to some aftermath he should’ve been present for. Had she argued with Lena?

Had she done something with Lena?

He felt even worse for even thinking that. Especially after possibly being too flirtatious with Zoe. That was a whole other issue he’d soon have to deal with.

The stress of managing the different facets of his life was starting to overwhelm him. The expectations he was putting on himself were only serving to harm him rather than help. Trying to shrug it off, he ripped off his clothes and walked into the bedroom, seeing Jane’s frail frame buried in the mountainous blankets. He slipped next to her, feeling her warmth, and dozing off quickly.

Whatever she had done, he would surely hear about in the morning.

Jane had awoken in the middle of the night to find Rob’s arms tightly wrapped around her. “Oh, thank god,” she whispered as she turned her body around to face him.

She had grown so accustomed to going to bed with him that, even in a deep slumber, she still felt lonely during his absence.

Her arms found their way around his torso, and her face was nuzzled into his chest; she took a deep breath to inhale the mixture of weed and whatever cologne he was wearing. She so desperately wanted to wake him up so that she could talk to him, kiss him, and show him affection.

Thoughts of what Lena had said to her were already flooding back, ruining the momentary euphoric mood. Jane truly could never imagine purposefully breaking Rob's heart - that she always knew wholeheartedly. But, just as she had explained to him when he first confessed his feelings for her, there was a good possibility that one day she would unintentionally.

She decided to choke down her feelings until the morning when she could tell him about what happened, and after wiggling her body a bit to get in the right position, the feelings of Rob’s skin on hers put her back into a heavy sleep.

--------------------

Sunlight peaking in did not wake up Jane like it usually did. She didn’t being to stir around 9 AM, and before she opened her eyes, she enjoyed the warmth encompassing her body; she didn’t want to ruin it with words.

But, her and Rob made a promise. Be honest. No Bullshit.

“Rob,” she whispered as she nudged him gently. “Rob, we need to talk.”

As soon as he was lucid, Jane sat up in bed to look down at him and sighed. “Lena kissed me last night.” She squeezed her eyes shut as her raspy voice finished the last word. “I kissed her back, but only for a few seconds until I realized what was fucking happening.” Her eyes opened back up, but they did not make their way to Rob. Instead, they looked in the wrinkled white sheets in front of her. “I pushed her off. She got pissed and pretty much said I was a piece of shit and I’ll wind up alone because I fuck everyone over.”

Jane scratched her head as she paused. Should she be completely truthful?

"What, Jane? You're gonna tell him that you're 'falling in love' with him right now? After someone else kissed you the night before?"

She decided against it.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I never used to care what anyone thought of me, or what people said about me. I was always just able to ignore it. But, ever since we started… you know… hurting you has been my worst fear. And what she said last night really fucked me up.”

She reached for the hand beside him and held it. “I don’t know what I’m getting at. I guess, just, I want you to know that I’m never gonna hurt you on purpose. You’re the best, Rob. I never wanna live my life without you. Ever since we were young, you’ve always been there. You know?”

Jane could tell that she was rambling at this point. “Sorry.”

She took a deep breath as she squeezed his hand. “I know we spoke about the ‘no bullshit’ thing, so that’s my piece. I hope you’re not mad about what happened. I really didn’t expect her to be so forward. That’s usually my thing, yeah?” Although Jane wasn’t in high spirits, and she still felt utterly exhausted, she couldn’t help but smirk at her statement.

Rob had been leaving so much lately to go hang out with Vicarious that it made her a bit self-conscious. She was worried that maybe she was just too much, that he needed a break from her throughout the day. Like she had said before, she was always so forward. It wasn’t even a conscious thing, either. It was just who she was. If she wanted something, she took it. And (possibly unfortunately) for Rob, he was the center of her desires.

The child-like part of Jane told her to run away now before Rob could explain how he felt. The other braced herself for the worst. He couldn’t be upset, right? The last thing she had expected Lena to do was kiss her; she wouldn't have agreed to the night if that was a suspicion.

Jane always felt so lame, for lack of better words, after an attempt at verbally expressing how she felt. It always came out as one cliché after another.

Waking up to a “we need to talk” speech was one of the last things Rob was hoping to do with the day. He didn’t bother to sit up with her, and calmly looked to her from his position, finding some humor from seeing her much higher than himself.

Whatever light mood he had slowly dropped, however, as Jane explained the events of the night before. Of her time with Lena, and the blurred line of fidelity it seemed to create.

His first reaction wasn’t one of anger, but somehow relief. In a morbid sense, he had wondered if they had done much more, and hearing that it was regulated to kissing made him feel better in all of the wrong ways. How wrong it felt to assume Jane would do much worse.

But that relief also faded away, and he was left with an odd, guttural feeling of frustration. It was almost morose. He was mad at himself for not being there. He was frustrated at new layers and complications forming with his relation to Vicarious and Zoe. He was frustrated Jane had admitted to kissing back. And all of this atop countless other intricacies and worries of the tour. It was all culminating in this general sense of dread, and he wanted out.

“Well,” he started, trying to bring himself to some sense of lightness, “that’s a lot for one morning.”

He finally sat up, sliding both of his hands behind his body, onto the bed, to support his position. “I’m glad you told me,” he said. He wanted to tell her that what Lena said was wrong. That she didn’t fuck everyone over. But in this selfish little moment, in all this frustration and rage, he decided not to. He didn’t want to console her or talk about how he felt. He didn’t really know how he felt. All he did feel, was a burning sensation to get out of this room. To get someone safe. Try to figure it out himself, without being accountable to another person.

Alone. As he was used to doing.

“I’m not mad,” Rob said, “I, uh…I guess I don’t know how I feel about it.”

He quickly got up and excused himself from the room. “I’m gonna put some clothes on, aright?”

He slipped into the vacant second room, where he had set his things down to keep the other room cleaner, and dressed himself. He slipped two packs of cigarettes in his jacket pockets as he slipped a hat over his hair and moved back to the bedroom.

“I don’t want you to think I’m avoiding anything, or this,” he said from the doorframe, “but I…I need to clear my head.”

He slipped two fingers onto the bridge of his nose and squeezed slightly. “I’m gonna take a walk.”

And with that, he turned around, slipping out of the room and pulling out his phone, googling the nearest park.

…

A half hour later, Rob found himself pacing around the local park, looking at the different things around to see. He almost thought he could feel his phone vibrate in his pocket, but he paid it no mind, continuing to light cigarettes as soon as the last one’s had burnt straight to the filter.

In his earbuds, an old favorite of his played: Jesus Christ by Brand New. Something about the melancholic, existential lyrics made Rob feel a bit better—even if he wasn’t having a crisis of faith.

More so, a crisis of self.

He had let this problems swell around him until they had grown too large to control. In his efforts to move past his more neurotic and concerned side, he had only served to fuel them. He hadn’t allowed himself to approach his frustrations honestly, but merely ignore issues until they grew too large to handle anymore. If he had accepted his reality from the start, and worked to making things right as they came to him, he might not have blown up on Simon. He might not have done so many things.

Rob soon found a park bench, and sat down, trying to think of nothing but this next cigarette, the air around him, and the present moment.

Rob's reaction to Jane's confession was the last thing she expected. It was very much in her nature to run away from confrontation, to hide whenever she'd have to explain herself or her feelings on a certain topic, but Rob?

When he appeared in the doorframe of their shared bedroom, she couldn't bring herself to look up to him. Instead, her hands gripped the pool of linen that surrounded her bare body until her knuckles turned white.

By the time she had called out, "Rob, wait," with her damaged voice, the door closed behind him.

"Fuck." Lena was right. Rob just proved it. Jane would just hurt everyone in her life until no one was left. Would he come back and say that he didn't want to see her anymore? Was he regretting not taking the warning Jane had given him about herself?

She got up slowly and travelled to the living room to locate her phone, which was found in a corner displaying a decent crack in the screen. A sigh came out as it was picked up and observed, then she squinted and worked out a text to Rob.

Jane: Please come back.

The phone was brought with her back into the bedroom, and she nearly dove into the plush bedding before she looked through the missed messages and calls from the night before.

One was from Austin with a picture of Sam and him with two girls at what looked to be a night club. Having visitors tonight, please DND in the morning :)

Another was from Andy. Hows our favorite vocalist doing? Hope the cords are healing up nicely. Let me know if you need anything.

But then, there was another one:
Rob's here with Zoe. Didn't say much to me. Is everything okay?

A flash of jealousy consumed Jane after he read it. Zoe? The girl that wouldn't even introduce herself? That was who Rob had been going to hang out with?

Jane sent a text to Andy almost immediately after the realization.

Jane: Hey, sorry for the silence. Weird night. Is Rob there now?
Andy: No. What's wrong?
Jane: I don't know. A lot. Do you wanna meet up?
Andy: Aren't you on bed rest?
Jane: Fuck it.

A half an hour and no text from Rob later, Jane had met with Andy at a breakfast place in the city. Her headphones were blaring A.C.D. by Nothing as her board came to a stop in front of the establishment, and she spotted him inside at a table.

"Hey," she whispered as she plopped into a booth across from him and plucked the earbuds out.
"Have you been crying?" Andy asked as he cocked his head to the side.
Jane's fingers went up to her eye subconsciously. "Oh, I guess, yeah."
"What happened?"

Jane went into detail about what had occurred with Lena last night and Rob this morning. Of how it all made her felt. How Rob reacted.

"And now he's not responding to me. I feel like an idiot," she sighed as she sipped on the coffee that had been delivered during her story. “I’ve always been the one to run away from issues or not give a fuck if someone’s pissed at me. But now…” She shook her head as she trailed off.

Andy sighed and nodded. “I’m sorry, Jane. That sucks.” He sat up a bit and placed his fork on his plate. “You said, before you admitted your feelings for him, that you were worried about not being the safe option for him?”

“Yeah,” she whispered. “I was scared I was going to hurt him. Like now.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong, first of all,” he started as he glared at her. “And secondly, you’ve never hidden who you are from Rob, right? You’ve known each other for years. He knows exactly who you are.”

Jane nodded. “Yeah. But that doesn’t mean I don’t feel awful about what happened with Lena.” She rubbed the bridge of her nose. “I didn’t want to kiss her. I definitely didn’t want her to kiss me. I just, I don’t know, I haven’t been in a relationship in years. It took me a few seconds to realize that what I was doing was wrong, you know?”

“So you guys discussed being exclusive?” Andy asked.

“Yeah, kind of,” she replied.

“So, you’re not bothered by the fact that he’s been spending a lot of time with Zoe?”

“I mean, I’m not a jealous person. But I’m just worried that he’s getting something from her I can’t give him. I’m not good as verbalizing my feelings. I don’t wanna settle down. I like to party – “

“But, you’ve been doing that for him. Especially this morning, you’ve been trying, right?”

Jane frowned. “Yeah. It sucked. And then after that, he just left.”

“Well,” Andy started as he ate the last bite of his eggs, “if you’re changing yourself, if you’re trying so hard to be what he needs, why are you still so invested?”

“I love him,” she said frankly. “I always have. I just never knew it could turn into this, you know? He occupies all my thoughts. I can’t stand to be away from him. I can’t even keep my hands off of him. I’m not used to feeling this way. It freaks me out.”

“Does he know all that?”
“No.” She played with the food in front of her. “I don’t want to freak him out, too. I think the fact that we’re seeing each other after all this time is throwing us both for a loop.”

“Look, Jane,” he sighed. “You’re awesome. Any person would be lucky to have you in their life. Don’t feel bad for what you feel. If Rob can’t see how much you’re trying to make him happy, then maybe it wasn’t meant to work out.”

The words made tears begin to well up in her eyes.

“Jane,” Andy whispered. He got up, moved over to her booth, and wrapped an arm around her. “I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

“It’s not your fault,” her voice quivered as she tried to calm herself down. “I just don’t know if I could handle that.”

“You’re strong, Jane. Whatever happens, you’ll be okay. You should tell Rob how you feel.”

She nodded as she wiped her eyes. “Yeah. I will.” She began to chuckle. “Look at me, huh? Jesus.”

-------------------------

Jane eventually made it back to the hotel room, and after smoking a joint and making a cup of tea, she laid back down in bed. Did Rob not appreciate her efforts in trying to be more open with him? Was he really that upset over a kiss? Or was something else happening, something that he hadn’t told Jane about?

It was all so confusing and upsetting – the last thing Jane expected to be going through on tour. When she had day dreamed about it when they were back home, she imagined having the time of her life with no worries other than getting from venue to venue. And now? Well, here she was, in bed, crying over her best friend.

It was all so stupid.

Jane placed her phone on the nightstand and pulled the comforter above her head. Hopefully, the exhaustion was contributing to how sad she was feeling, that once she got rested up enough, she would return to her more care-free disposition. She hadn’t bothered to check her phone since she had texted Rob, thinking that whatever might have been waiting for her wasn’t what she wanted to read anyway.

She drifted off to sleep rather quickly after laying down once she convinced herself to ignore the lonely feeling of being it the big bed by herself.

A long time had passed around Rob. Maybe an hour, maybe a few. It was hard to tell.

He had existed in an odd median between asleep and awake on the park bench, occasionally looking through his sunglasses, seeing people passing by, giving slight stares as they walked across in front of him.

Shaking himself, he slipped his phone out of his pocket, ready to face the reality:

Please Come Back.

Rob gave a slight grimace at the response.

He knew he had hurt Jane by leaving. But it was for the best. If he had stayed, he wasn’t sure how to react. Embracing a person who had embraced another—even in some slight, meaningless way. Perhaps he was being much too demanding of her. Not recognizing the strength it must have taken to deny Lena. The little concessions she (and him) had made to be with each other.

It was so odd, being so accountable to another person. The very same communication he was demanding from Jane was also demanding upon himself—to allow someone else to enter his own head, understand who he was on his most visceral level.

It was time to face facts.

…

He returned to the room soon after, finding Jane asleep in the bed. The way she was positioned was not the same as when he left her. Had she gotten up? Had she been away to see someone?

Thoughts such as those reminded him of his own weaknesses. Images of Zoe plagued his mind, and he decided that whatever Jane had done or whoever she had seen, was of little importance.

Things weren’t supposed to be this way. Entering into a relationship with a best friend was supposed to be so much simpler. And yet Rob had never experienced a relationship that demanded so much of him as Jane did. Perhaps it was easier to mess things up with a stranger than someone you care so much about.

Rob decided to wait in the kitchen, not wanting yet another bedside confrontation. So much of their time had been spent with each other, each morning and night, only to awaken the other to discuss some hard or sad news.

Not anymore.

Rob made some coffee for himself and Jane, taking a cupful and leaving the rest on the warmer. He pulled out his phone, googling the band’s name. Hoping for some vapid reactions to clear his head.

After reading the daily tabloids and blogs on what they had been doing, he tossed the phone to the couch, drinking his coffee in the relative silence. Without the digital connection, he lost track of the time that past. It might have been minutes or hours, but either way Rob waited, until Jane emerged from the room.

“Sorry,” he had said. “I was going to get in bed, but…I don’t know. I guess I didn’t want to keep talking about stuff like this in bed.”

He took another sip of coffee. “I left this morning because I got freaked out. I’m not used to dealing with this stuff with another person. Usually…with other relationships, it’s so much simpler. Because I don’t mind if I end that relationship. But I just don’t want to fuck up so bad I end up fucking up regardless.”

He tried to laugh to himself. “But I’m not mad at you. I guess I just don’t trust myself enough to respond the right way without prior thought. That’s why it’s easy for me to talk with Vicarious, I guess. If I fuck up with them, no harm done. But if I fuck up with you…?”

Rob looked down to the floor. “Well, I don’t want to fuck that up.”

He scratched his elbow and thought for a moment, then: “Maybe we all want to run away from our feelings.”

So he elected to stay, wait, and listen.

Jane had finally awoken from her second sleep of the day, but she opted to lay in bed for a few moments to stare at the ceiling before getting herself up. The talk with Andy and her nap had made her feel better, but a dark cloud was still looming over her, and the fact that Rob wasn't in bed with her yet was a great reminder.

She found a large tee shirt on the floor and began to pull it over her body as she opened the door, but she stopped in her tracks at the sight of Rob on the couch. Why was he waiting out here for her? Why hasn't he come in the room to be with her?

She finished pulling the shirt down as she approached him, then sat on the coffee table across from him.

It was nice to hear his words - his thoughts similar to hers - but Jane's pride kept her demeanor stone cold as she listened to him. While her ego worked on her outside, her heart tugged at her from the inside, though, telling her to get over it, that it wasn't important enough to stay upset over.

"I get what you mean," she began as she cleared the nap from her throat. "You know me, I usually don't give a fuck about anything." That caused her to chuckle quietly.

"But, I do care about you. A lot. Sometimes, I think, too much. It drives me crazy. I want to be angry at you so badly for running away from our discussion. After I tried so hard to talk to you instead of just fuck you." Her own words made her wince. "See?"

She stood up from her seat on the coffee table and positioned herself next to him on the couch, and her arms wrapped around his bicep as her eyes locked on his. "Let's stop tip-toeing around each other, yeah? I think it's doing more harm than good." She leaned in and kissed his arm. "I'm sorry about what happened with Lena. And I'm sorry everything's been so weird."

After a conversation like this, Jane hoped that things could finally be normal again. Ever since their disagreement about the single, it seemed as though there was always some sort of obstacle their relationship had to overcome. She wanted to finally be able to relax with him without any sort of tension or weird energy lingering in the air - just like it was when they were younger, when they didn't haven't anything to fight over.

"Look, Rob," her voice was growing more hoarse as she continued. "Things are only going to get crazier for us out there. Let's make sure it doesn't get to us, yeah? I..."

She began to cough, causing a halt in her sentence. That sentence, however, contained the words she wasn't certain she wanted to say to him. How she was truly feeling.

"I guess that's enough talking for now, yeah?" She whispered before coughing a bit more. She couldn't bring herself to confess how desperately attached she was to him. That she loved him. By relationship standards, it was all too fast and crazy for her to feel such things, but she reminded herself that what they had wasn't exactly normal. Jane had always been codependent on Rob in a strange way. Whether it was running to him during times of chaos or him saving her from the bar at 2 AM. Still, she decided to wait.

"I got one day left of bed rest before we have to deal with all the bullshit again." Her hand had moved to his chest, and her fingers slowly grazed it back and forth. "We're cool, right?"

Jane's mind flashed to the fact that Tob had been growing closer to Zoe. It was probably all innocent, she had decided, so she kept her thoughts to herself for now.

Rob had known Jane was upset at Rob for leaving. No amount of apology or explanation was going to reduce that hurt. Rob was mad at himself for having to resort to that option, but couldn’t say he regretted it. Being able to clear his head was worth the effort.

It was all escapism, when it came down to it. Discussing this sort of thing with Jane was difficult enough, especially knowing her own penchant for ignoring such discussions. Acting out of character for him had been sure to be shocking, so he understood the anger. He just needed go get away. It reminded him of an earlier time:

It was a day or so after one of his most explosive arguments with his father. A simple mundane conversation turned bitter by underlying anger. In the home, Rob felt as if he was a ghost. His mother would occasionally act as a medium, passing messages between father and son so as to not have the two collide any more.

So one day, he slipped away. Told his mom he’d be back in a few days, and loaded up his car, and left. He’d drive down the nearest roads he could find, acting solely on impulse. He’d drive until his car would run out of gas, before filling it back up and just keep going on. His only guide to where he had ended up were state lines. First Nevada, then Utah, Wyoming, Colorado, Nevada, South Dakota, and Montana. For nearly forty hours, he drove on and on and on, only sleeping for brief stints. He was filled with caffeine, cheap cigarettes, and an unrelenting, unveiling drive.

And somewhere in the middle of nowhere, Montana, he stopped. Stayed overnight in a hotel, cleared his mind, then found his way back home over the next two days.

The experience remained one in his mind that felt so purely alive. The experience was one is his most favorite in his life. On that road, there were no goals. No worries or responsibilities. No parents, no friends, no family. Just you…and the road ahead. Total, absolute control.

It was something he missed feeling. Now, in this kitchen with Jane, in a town far from home. In the middle of a tour, with responsibilities and essentially a job, he had ever longed for it.

Right now, however, there was Jane, and himself. The person he cared for most in the world, wanting him. Upset with him. Wanting to fix the problem together. For all his thoughts and fantasies of leaving it all behind, she never appeared in them. And perhaps that was the worst feeling.

He wanted to make things right. Not only fix things with Jane, but with everyone else. The band, the manager, the interviewers, the audience, all of them.

And the only way to start was getting back on good terms. And that meant ignoring the problem. Pretending that everything was ok. Pretending that all of his mind-wandering and his walk this morning made him normal.

Oh, he was reverting back to his old self again. Brick by brick, he was building his persona up again, telling himself that if he pretended all was right, one day, they really might be.

Time would tell. For now, there was a matter of Jane.

“You’re right,” he said softly, “It’ll only get crazier from here.”

He slipped an arm around Jane and pulled her close to him. “That’s enough talking,” he agreed. “We have the rest of the day to ourselves.”

Thinking of her honest words of what she’d rather do, Rob slipped away with her into the bed again.

Some people longed sexuality their relationships for the self-pleasure. Others, for the selfless act of giving it to the other.

Rob loved it because the moment after was the only moment in his life where he thought of absolutely nothing.

That was the true escape.

"We're In Bloom, thanks for checking us out."

Jane fled the stage and dashed out to the alley in the back of the large venue to catch her breath. It was their first performance since her small vacation, and it went exceedingly well albeit the the painful sensation she was feeling currently. Thankfully, though, her voice held up throughout the entire set without too much deviation from her normal sound.

The doctor gave elicit instructions for Jane to follow so that the injury and exhaustion didn't occur again: Do vocal exercises 30 minutes before a set, quit or cut back on smoking cigarettes, drink a gallon of water a day, eat all three meals a day with a snack before a set, sleep for at least 6 hours a night, limit talking for the rest of the night after a set.

Just as any other structure or regimen, it all sounded boring to Jane, but her bandmates were holding her accountable: Austin came out of the gas station with a gallon of water and kept reminding her to drink it throughout the day, and Sam brought her a snack to replace the one she had forgotten back at the hotel.

They had driven a good amount earlier that day to catch up with the rest of the bands that had left them behind to carry on with the tour, but their time was limited with the rest of the bands before they set off across the Atlantic for a whole new list of cities to visit. It was all very surreal, and it had yet to hit Jane hat she would be leaving the country for the first time and playing at small, shitty venues again for people who had 1) probably never heard of them, and 2) probably didn’t give a fuck about them.

Jane took a few swigs of her gallon of water before Andy approached her in the alley.
“Sick set, Jane. I couldn’t even tell your cords were fucked up,” he smiled as he patted her shoulder.
“Thanks,” Jane said in a breathy manner. “You’re set was great as well. I couldn’t even tell we smoked five joints before then,” she joked.
“Ha-ha,” Andy nudged her arm. “Look,” he began, lowering the volume of his voice, “nothing’s been confirmed yet, but we might be joining you in Europe. My manager’s still working some shit out I guess.”
Her eyes lit up at the news; the possibility that they wouldn’t be completely alone on a new continent was relieving. “That’s awesome! It’ll be nice having some familiar faces over there.” Her happiness was short-lived, though, when Zoe passed by the two. Jane began to speak: “Hey, Zoe, nice – “

Zoe continued walking towards their bus without so much as a glace in Jane's direction.

“Jesus Christ, man. I don’t think I can get used to that,” Jane shook her head as she confessed her distaste for Zoe to Andy.
He laughed. “Doesn’t help that you’re seeing her crush.”
Jane’s eyes widened. “She has a crush on Rob?”
“She never said it,” Andy replied with a smile, amused with Jane’s concern. “I know her pretty well though.” His facial expression changed a more concerned one. “Y-you’re not jealous, are you?”
She scoffed and shook her head. “No, no. Just curious.”

In reality, Andy’s suspicions did strike a bit of jealousy into Jane, although she wouldn’t ever admit it. But Zoe reminded her of the girls that Rob had dated or hooked up with in the past, and it was easy to associate her with thoughts of Rob being with someone other than herself. Plus, he had been spending a lot of time with Vicarious – could that be the reason?

Austin approached the two and put an arm around Jane, shaking her out of the somber mood her thoughts put in her momentarily. “Sorry, Andy. J’s supposed to rest her voice after each set, right J?”
She groaned. “Right. See you later, Andy.”

She and Austin walked towards the van parked on the street. “How you holdin’ up, tough guy?” Austin asked as he squeezed her shoulders.
Jane nodded with a thumbs up.
“You and Rob seem in better spirits. Sam and I have been sort of, uh, preoccupied with the beautiful women that seem to be in every city we go to, so I haven’t gotten to talk to you much. You know I’m always here for you though, right?” Austin stopped and turned Jane’s shoulders so that she’d face him. “I mean it.”
Jane nodded and smirked, and Austin kissed her on the forehead in a friendly manner. “Let’s get you to bed, okay?”

----------------------

Jane sat in her normal position with her legs draped over Rob and her head resting near the van’s wall. She wasn’t completely rejuvenated from her two days off, and exhaustion still loomed over her as a reminder to not go to crazy with the partying or alcohol.

She could feel herself drifting off into a light sleep when her phone vibrated underneath her. A text.

Mia: I’m so sorry, girl. Call me if you need anything.

With the text came a link to some news article, and Jane clicked it cautiously to find an annoying headline:



“Holy shit,” Jane whispered as her thumbs scrolled up and down over the cracked screen. “Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit.” She abruptly popped up from the fetal position she was in and hunched over her phone, still in awe of what she was seeing. She clicked the link that held the photos, and low and behold, there she was. The page looked like some sort of Tumblr page with no evidence of who it belonged to, and it held five pictures. Most were of her top half, and only one was of her backside. It wasn’t anything completely jarring, but it was enough to cause nausea to brew in her stomach.

“Jesus Christ,” she mumbled into the hand that was covering her mouth.

It wasn’t that Jane was ashamed of nudity or her natural form – quite the contrary actually, hence her choice to go braless and revealing clothing selections. Yet, something about it being on the internet for anybody and everybody to see gave her the most vulnerable sensation she had ever felt.

Would Lena stoop this low? No, that couldn’t be, could it? Would Ryan try to bring her down like this? She hadn’t talked to him in years. She was sure at least a few people had some scandalous photos of her like this, but no one that would share them like this. Or at least, she thought.

She handed Rob her phone without looking up. She felt embarrassed. “I, uh, I don’t know what to say. I’m sorry,” she mumbled quietly as she kept herself from getting too worked up. It felt as if she had committed some sort of crime against him, although logically she knew that wasn’t true. Rob’s desperation for privacy in regards to their intimate business seemed a bit far-fetched now.

“All of those pictures are at least a year old.” She somehow thought that it would make the situation and however Rob was feeling better, but they just tasted cheap coming out of her mouth.

“Holy shit, J!” Austin exclaimed from two seats ahead of them. “Did you see – “
“Yes,” Jane interrupted as she threw her head in her hands.
“Dude, I’m so sorry. That’s fucked up. At least you have a nice ass, though.”
“Shut up, man,” Sam chimed in with an angry tone.
“I was joking! J, I was joking.” Austin looked to Rob with wide eyes. “Really, I was joking.”

The whole situation was already completely overwhelming. How were they going to fix it? How would the interviews go now? And Rob. If he wasn’t already having second thoughts about being with someone like Jane, would he now?

“Sam,” Jane began as she cleared her throat, “if your dad calls, tell him I’ll call him in the morning, yeah? I don’t feel like dealing with this shit tonight.”

She still couldn’t gather the courage to look at Rob; Jane wasn’t sure if she was ready to hear or see his reaction to all of this. So instead, she curled back up in her fetal position and squeezed her eyes shut in a futile attempt to keep tears from falling out. She just wanted to go to bed and forget about it already, but she knew that something of this magnitude wouldn’t be swept under the rug so easily.

Rob’s fingers had begun to blister somewhere between the second and third song of their set, and he tried to ignore the pain. However, by the final crash of the cymbals and Jane’s final words, blood had broken through the skin, sliding down the sticks and getting flung atop some of the drum set.

He wiped the hair from his face, trying to catch his breath, and smeared some of the crimson blood across his face, from his cheek to his forehead. He could feel the stinging sensation and the bitter taste of iron in his mouth as he looked down to the bloody mess before him. Austin shot him a concerned glance as he walked off the stage, ignoring the relentless roar of the crowd behind him.

It was his own damn fault, too. All the confusion and anger had caused Rob to stop practicing significantly. He had let his callouses soften to the point where they hadn’t been prepared for the onslaught they had taken tonight. Rob’s style of playing wasn’t designed for long, grueling sessions every night, and the break he had taken in the interim between shows had only set him up for this level of pain.

He saw the press pit go wild as he stood up, snapping photos as fast as their shutters could reset. His mouth hung open involuntarily—his body drained from the set. Hopping down off the stage and approaching a line of fans, he held out the bloody sticks.

“Who wants these?” He asked, to roaring madness. It was like the gladiator fights of old. Blood had been spilt, and now these people seemed to long for it. He approached a cool enough person, so seemed honest enough.

“Promise me you won’t sell this shit on Ebay,” Rob said to him, handing the sticks over.

“Why the fuck would I ever sell these?” The fan asked back. “Thank you.”

Rob smiled, and slipped back on stage and over to the back. He had to see how Jane was doing.

“Thank you Minneapolis!” Rob managed to shout into a live mic, before slipping backstage.

And the crowd went nuts again.

…

Minneapolis had been kind enough to them. Their hotel rooms were cleaned, the town was nice, and the nights were chilly enough to require jackets—a feeling Rob had missed driving through the south nearly the entire tour.

Just two more cities, he reminded himself. Kansas City and St. Louis.

Yesterday, after his break and time alone with Jane, he had managed to call Harold. Plans were finally in motion to set them up with a tour bus for Europe, and even though the venues would be shitty, he was excited to leave the country. In fact, he had argued with Harold to let them rent their own van to travel in, but he was less than interested.

“You’ve never even been to Europe,” Harold had said, “much less driven in it. No. You’re getting a tour bus.”

So, Rob conceded. The driver Harold had hired was a friend of the band that they had known for some time, and would be meeting up with them in St. Louis. That left two vacant spots; merch and sound guy.

For merch, Rob had suggested Aaron—a past friend of his, who loved music far more than maybe even him. Aaron had agreed to come, and would also be meeting up with them in St. Louis. As for the sound person, the band had yet to agree on a person. Rob had been meaning to suggest Jane pick a sound person, but between the arguments and the stress, the idea had been forgotten. Maybe it was time to mention it once more.

Rob made a note to discuss it with her sometime tonight, before slipping over to the van and finding his band. He climbed in, and they were off again to another night in the hotels. Come to think of it, this would be some of their final nights outside of a bus for a very long time.

…

“What the fuck, man?” Austin came as soon as he had gotten a good look at Rob.

“What?”

“You’ve got blood, like, smeared on your face.”

Rob looked down to his hands, and realized he had ignored the pain he had felt and forgot to clean himself off. Apologizing, he climbed over the back seat and pulled out some gauze, before cleaning himself up with a rag.

“Better?” He asked. Austin nodded, and Rob proceeded to wrap his fingers in gauze and sit back again. He took the AUX chord, and played an old, albeit shitty song of his that he enjoyed: Pillowhead by Failure.

It was only minutes later that he felt Jane stir, widely swinging her legs away from Rob and staring down to her cracked phone. Her eyes shined deeply, and her expression was so easily worrying to him.

After she had passed him the phone, he realized that he had every right to have been worried.

The images of Jane on the screen were partially obscured by the cracks and crevices of the broken phone, but they showed more than enough. Images of Jane he had only ever seen in person, in their most imitate moments together, were on there, for all the world to see. He felt a deep anger swell up in him, but the source was not Jane.

No, it was whoever had done this to her. Whoever had chosen to release something so private to the world. Rob had felt personally a bit hurt when Jane admitted to a slight moment of subconscious weakness, but this? This wasn’t on her. This was something someone else had done.

He had known things may be difficult dating Jane. For all her imperfections and shortcomings, he had known the stigmas and stereotyping that would surround the two of them. But to see that sort of thing release for all the world to see, was something else entirely.

”At least you have a nice ass, though,” Austin’s words cut through his own mental drone. They snapped a sort of primal anger in him—something deep, masculine, and protective.

“Shut the fuck up, Austin,” Rob growled at him. Austin’s reaction to his and Sam’s comments were clear and direct—yes, sir.

Rob had resolved earlier that week to present the people in his life with a part of himself he had created—to act happy, content, and satisfied. Fake-it-till-you-make-it, in a way.

Seeing the last remnants of his privates washed away in binary seemed to so quickly dissolve that narrative. Maybe tomorrow, or the next day, there would be room for such an act. For now, he was fucking livid.

Trying to calm himself down, he slid the phone away from himself and Jane, and looked to her.

She seemed so deeply hurt by what happened, and hadn’t have bothered to look up to Rob since showing the images. It came as so surprise to Rob that she probably felt like he was mad at her. And who knows? Maybe he may have been.

But the instincts within him, the anger that drove him, it trumped all else. He’d have time to worry about it in the morning. For now, one of his own was hurt.

“Come here,” Rob said clearly, sliding Jane towards him. He moved her, positioning her so that her head could rest in his own lap. He held her, and said nothing.

In fact, no one said a word the entire ride home.

…

At the hotel, Rob had excused himself from Jane, and was outside on the balcony, on the phone, talking to Harold.

“How is she?” Harold asked.

“I don’t know,” Rob answered. “We haven’t had a chance to talk about it. But if I had to guess? Hurt. Sad. Angry.”

“Like you?”

“I’m more angry than anything. Any word on how it got out?”

“I have my suspicions,” Harold answered, “but we don’t know yet. I’m trying to get in touch with the website that hosts it, but they’re giving me the run-around.”

“Lena,” Rob spat out.

“Maybe,” Harold said. “I don’t know. And you don’t either.”

Rob’s temper flared again. Out here, with Jane not around and only Harold to talk to, he let his true feelings show: “I swear to fucking God, Harold—if I find out it was Lena—“

“Don’t finish that sentence,” Harold shot, cold. “I don’t want to know or hear about it. We all know how you feel about her, especially now.”

”Fucking cunt,” Rob muttered through clenched teeth.

Perhaps he was surprised by the level of his own anger, or perhaps Harold was shocked Rob had even used said that word, but either way, neither talked for about half a minute.

“Don’t do anything stupid, Rob,” Harold said. “And you’re not going to like what I’m about to say, either.”

Silence.

“Alright then,” Harold continued. “I’ve talked to Austin and Sam already. They’ve got parts ready for a new song. I’ve just booked a plane ticket to Kansas City. We’re booking studio time.”

“What the fuck, Harold?”

“You’re all on publicity blackout until then. Practice with all your free time. We’ll master it while you travel to St. Louis, and you’ll play it live. We put it out on every major market the second after.”

“We’re not your personal slaves, Harold,” Rob said. “Jane’s over here fucking reeling from all this shit. And you want her to write lyrics for you? You want us to make a song in half a week?”

“How do you want me to stop this?” Harold asked angrily. “A tell-all? Another interview? Feed you to the blog vultures and podcast guys, just dying to ask you about this shit? No. We’ve been dealt a shit hand, and I’m fixing the problem. Sam and Austin say they can deliver, and if you want this to blow over quickly, you and Jane will get on board. And you will write a fucking song.”

Rob snapped the phone shut.

Every fiber of his being wanted to toss the phone over the balcony. Watch is smash into pieces on the concrete far below them. Watch it all go away.

But there was no escaping this. No escaping what needed to be done. And unless any of them had a better idea, they might actually have to write this song.

They had a rest day in Minneapolis tomorrow, then travel to St. Louis the next. They’d be in town another two days.

That was four days to write a song.

And Rob had absolutely no idea how they were supposed to do it, either. Rob and Jane never had really confronted it, but they wanted different things for the future of the band. Sam seemed open enough to either idea, and Austin—well, Rob wasn’t sure. But he was almost positive Jane wanted something different.

And to be forced with a deadline like this, to make a song in four days—it was almost unthinkable.

Rob elected to slip back inside, joining Jane once more. He calmly explained the situation, trying hard to show his personal feeling about what had happened.

A little under a week left in America, and there was so much left to do. Rob thought once of Zoe, but pushed it from his mind.

One thing at a time.

After tears were cried and anger was released in the form of screaming into her pillow, the only sensation Jane was feeling was numbness. The initial reaction was painful. Why would someone stoop so low? Why did she take the pictures in the first place? Why did it have to happen right now, when they were about to leave the country in four days? It was as if the self-blame cancelled out the rage and vice versa.

Her body was balled up and wedged into the corner of the couch with the hotel-provided blanket draped over her. The TV was just background noise; Jane had caught herself multiple times just staring at the beige wall behind it. A beer that was now turning lukewarm sat clenched in her grasp underneath the blanket that she occasionally took sips of in silence.

Jane wasn’t ungrateful for Rob’s reaction to the situation. He could have easily upset at the person he was dating for the fact that private pictures of her were leaked onto the internet – many guys would be. But, she realized, it was wrong of her to think he would be upset. She knew the amount that he cared for her would trump any sort of possessive instinct to feel betrayed by the situation. There was still a sense of guilt, though.

Any questions thrown at her that night were answered either with nodding or shaking her head, or the simplest response possible. It was not an act or a cry for help, that would be pathetic. But for the first time in years that Jane could recall, she just didn’t feel anything. She had no desire to eat, talk, go out, get high (she didn’t even have the desire for intimacy). No, the only thing she had energy left for was to sit there, on the couch, staring at the blank wall.

She was not, however, relishing in the fact that the news hit her so hard. Jane had built herself up to be this emotionally untouchable, don’t-give-a-fuck person that everyone knew her by, but it seemed like with every recent blow, it was rocking her foundation and causing her to slowly crumble. She didn’t like how soft and needy she had become with Rob. She didn’t like how things the media said began to make her question her beliefs and confidence. She didn’t like, now, that something that should be so natural and comfortable – her nude body – was now being used against her in an attempted to tear her down further.

It was all fucked.

After about two hours of lying on the couch, she announced quietly that she was going to sleep. Jane wrapped the scratchy blanket around her should and slowly trotted to the bed before plopping down into the tangled mess of sheets that they had left behind before the set. She hadn’t even bothered to get undressed before pulling the comforter up over her and rolling herself back up into the position she was in on the couch.
-----------------

Jane dug her way out of the cocoon she had made in her sleep and popped her head up out of the blankets. 6:24 AM.

“Shit,” she mumbled as she rubbed her eyes and swung her legs over the side of the bed. Her phone showed a text message she had gotten at some point in the morning.

Harold: Call when you’re up.

She sighed before searching for her pack of cigarettes and heading out to the patio affixed to their hotel room.

Jane: Hey, Harold.
Harold: Morning, Jane. How are you holding up?
Jane: I’ve been better. What’s up?
Harold: Well, I’ve been trying to figure out –
Jane: Harold?
Harold: Yeah.
Jane: I don’t wanna know who did it.
Harold: What do you mean? This asshole leaked these pictures of you to ruin your image, and the band –
Jane: I get it, man. But it’s not like I’m gonna sue. Really, I don’t wanna know. I’d rather just find a way to move past it all.
Harold: Well, we’ve been working on an idea.
Jane: We?
Harold: Yeah. Austin and Sam have been contributing. I told Rob last night, but I’m sure he hasn’t had a chance to talk to you yet. We want to have a new song ready for the European leg of the tour.

Jane's mind flashed to a blurry conversation she and Rob had the night before. Did he mention this? Was she even paying attention?

Jane: A new song? You want me to right a new song now?
Harold: Look Jane, I know there’s a lot going on and your head’s probably all over the place, but if we distract the audience with new music, it’d be much easier for all this to blow over.
Jane: Anything I write isn’t for a distraction, Harold. I can’t just pump out lyrics whenever I want for a new hit. I haven’t been able to write in a long time. That’s why the single was so simple.
Harold: Jane, I understand, but we need to –
Jane: I don’t think you do, man. I’m sorry, I’m not doing this right now.

Jane hung up and nearly fell into the chair behind her. There was pressure to write a new song? Now? How the hell would she come up with something in four days when she had barely been able to write in months? Plus, with all the different opinions on the bands direction, how would she keep everyone happy?

She lit another cigarette and slumped down in the chair as her mind raced over what to do next. She felt like running. Hiding. Going home. Going back to bartending and forgetting everything. It sounded dramatic, but all the anxiety she felt at the moment justified all of her thoughts. Jane had never imagined the tour playing out this way – all of the obstacles, confessions, negative press, drama – it was all making it seem so unappealing now. Why couldn’t things ever be simple? Or at least, simpler.

She noticed the notifications for ten more texts and few missed calls, but she decided, for now, to ignore them with certainty it was from friends commenting on the situation.

After talking herself down, Jane eventually crawled back into bed next to Rob and burrowed her way into his arms. Although she didn’t even want to be touched last night, the absence of his warmth left her craving to be held in the morning. His chest was warm from sleep, and she pressed her face against it and sighed softly as her eyes closed.

The mysterious relationship forming between Rob and Zoe now seemed so menial now compared to what was lying ahead of them, and in that moment, Jane told herself to let it go, although part of her still desperately hoped that the situation didn’t push Rob away from her and into the arms of someone else. Someone less damaged, less maintenance, less Jane. It was a shitty feeling, to be frank, but right now, in his arms, in the early hours of the morning, none of it mattered. Not Zoe, not the pictures, not the threat of having to write new material.

And if Rob was to grow tired of all the repercussions that came of being with Jane, then she would absorb as much of him as she could while she had the chance.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered in a barely audible tone before pressing a kiss into his skin. She wasn’t sure what exactly Jane was apologizing for, but she knew she felt it. She drifted back to sleep rather quickly and hoped that today would be better than the one that preceded it.

Last night seemed like a bit of a blur.

After all the anger he felt and the frustration with the nearly everything, he had slept so soundly, memories of his anger were like passing visions—forgotten as soon as they had passed by.

He awoke the sound of Jane’s whisper, the heat of her breath, and the softness of her lips against him. It made so much sense that Jane seemed to be enthralled by the bed and being into it—the feeling here, the absolute isolation from everyone else, was one of the best feelings i the world.

And each morning it came to a methodical, bitter end.

Rob slipped his phone into his hand, continuing to hold Jane with the other, and checking his messages.

9:27, Harold: Respond to Sam, please.

Rob swiped back and checked his other messages:

8:22, Sam: Hey. So uh, this is a bit shit, but me and Austin are holed up in a studio, and we were hoping to get you over here to practice what we had. Maybe Jane, too. You might want to get over here before any more paparazzi get up.

8:23, Sam: [address]

9:03, Sam: Rob?

Rob rolled his eyes. There one was final message:

9:22, Zoe: Call me when you’re done with that shit.

Rob tried not to think about what Zoe had said and focused on the current issue.

He had figured that practice would need to begin really quickly if they were going to make a song so suddenly, but he was hoping to at least have the morning to himself and with Jane. Managing himself to perform at a record-worthy level is going to be hard enough. Getting Jane to sing with it? Even harder. He contemplated making an instrumental with the other guys, but soon blew off the idea. Harold wouldn’t go for it.

Holding Jane in his arms like this reminded him of the pain she must be going through. His situation called for himself to be more pragmatic about the situation (especially after his outbursts yesterday), but Jane seemed much more forced into the situation than he.

“I’m gonna get dressed,” he whispered to her, before kissing her gently and climbing out of bed. He winced as he dragged the fabric across his hands, slipping the gauze from his hands and exposing the ragged flesh beneath. He’d had to force himself to play with gloves on or risk doing some serious damage.

Today was going to be interesting, he surely knew that.

“Hey, he said, coming back into the bedroom. He sat on the edge, near Jane. “Sam and Austin are at a studio and they need me there. I don’t want to leave, and I don’t want to have to deal with this…”

How do you think she feels? A thought crossed his mind. Don’t be such an asshole. It’s not like you’re the one people are criticizing.

“But,” he continued, “I should at least hear what they’ve got. You don’t have to come now, or ever. I don’t want you doing anything uncomfortable.I don’t really care what Harold says.”

But you’re doing what he’s asking, the thought continued. You’re supporting him, not her.

“Call me anytime,” he finished, holding his phone up. “I’m just going to be down the street for a bit. If you need me to come back, let me know.”

Rob leaned down and kissed her. A wave of emotion immediately followed—first lust, which drove him to nearly straddle her. Then the passion that drove his hands down her sides and across her chest. Then—

Anger?

Rob stopped himself—the frustration of Jane’s past actions and experiences swelling back to him. Thoughts of Lena. Thoughts of the countless other lovers.

“Sorry,” Rob said, pulling away. “I about attacked you, there. I’ll see you soon.”

Rob slipped out, taking a deep breath in the hallway, before entering the elevator.

…

At the lobby, he was quickly pulled aside by a very concerned-looking employee.

“Rob Pennie?” He asked. Rob nodded, and the man continued into a neurotic, nervous speech: “There’s uh, a whole lot of reporters outside looking for you. There were only about three when the other guys left—your other bandmates? I think? Anyways…”

“Shit,” Rob said suddenly, looking out of the large window. Sure enough, about a dozen or so people, lined up with expensive DSLRs waited for him outside. So far, not one had noticed him. Sam had mentioned something about the paparazzi, but Rob felt like he was surely kidding. They hadn’t had a problem with press. Ever?

Now? The frustration having to deal with this situation was threatening to make Rob less pragmatic than he’d like to be.

“We can, uh, slip you through the back,” the employee said. “Through the staff parking lot. It’s gated, so no one should be there. I’ll call a cab.”

“Thanks,” Rob said, and quickly followed the man. He led him behind the counter, past an industrial workspace, a kitchen, and finally, a large storage facility, before arriving at the back parking lot. Not a single paparazzi in sight.

A cab soon pulled up, and Rob slipped inside, thanking the employee for his help. As the car pulled out of the lot, Rob slipped a pair of sunglasses on and looked out to the front of the hotel as he passed by.

Out there, employees of the hotel seemed to be arguing with the paparazzi—probably trying to chase them away. Funny, how their first issue with press had been with this. A bunch of stupid, old photographs had caused this much intrigue.

Rob instructed the cab driver on where to go, before calling Harold.

“I hope you’re getting hit with the press, too,” Rob wished.

“Fortunately, no,” Harold said, “but I’ve been on the phone since five this morning. Any word on that song?”

“I’m heading to the studio now,” Rob said, “so no. No word on the fucking song.”

“And Jane?”

“She can tell you herself what she’s doing,” Rob said, “but I’m not the boss of her. Neither are you. If she even shows, it’s her choice. I’m only doing it for Sam and Austin. Not you.”

“Whatever keeps you warm at night,” Harold said. “See you in Kansas City.”

The phone clicked shut, and the sudden realization that he’d be seeing Harold in the flesh as soon as tomorrow night sent a wave of frustration through him.

Having to deal with him had never been easy. On or off the road.

Rob’s thoughts were broken by the cab driver’s voice, asking for the money he needed. Rob paid and tipped, before slipping out of the car and into the studio before he had time to check if anyone was outside.

In here, a receptionist seemed to shoot him a funny glance, before he slipped off his sunglasses.

“Rob Pennie?” She asked.

“Yeah,” he said, pointing to a hallway. “Down here?”

“Yup,” she said. “The other guys have been here all morning. Where’s Jane?”

Did she really just ask me that? Rob thought. He glared at her, before she broke off eye-contact, muttering a soft “sorry” before consuming herself back into her computer. Rob silently made his way into the back studio.

In here, Sam and Austin where in the middle of a riff, when they saw Rob come in. They stopped immediately.

“Don’t stop,” Rob said, pulling his drummer’s gloves from his pocket. “We don’t have time to stop.”

“And Jane?” Sam asked.

“Jesus Christ,” Rob said instinctually, “Everyone wants to know about fucking Jane. She’ll show if she wants to.”

With that, Sam and Austin said nothing more, and Rob slipped onto the provided drum set, playing the thee instrumentalists through a warm-up they had practiced many times before.

…

An hour passed, and not much had been accomplished. The stress of the deadline hung over their heads, and each idea one person would present was quickly shot down by the others.

Too grungy. Too metal. Too chuggy. Too melodic. Each critique was giving generically, causing the others to press on as quick as possible. Soon enough, Rob lost track of the sound anyone was going for, and slipped out of the room, heading back to the receptionist—who seemed a bit more afraid of him than before.

“Get us some alcohol,” Rob said, ignoring his mental thought that it was far too early.

“What kind?” The receptionist asked, but Rob had already turned around.

“Anything,” Rob shouted. “Just a lot of it.”

He slipped back into the room, catching Sam in the middle of a particularly infectious riff.

Rob stopped in place, looking at the guitar. Near him, Austin laughed.

“I know, right?” Austin said through a smile. “First decent thing someone’s played today.”

Which as completely true. Each riff and drum pattern played thus far sounded like everything that’s come before. The sound of out Sam’s guitar, right now, sounded new. Fresh. Like somebody took the single and absolutely obliterated it—tore it down, built it again. Heavier and meaner.

“Loop that,” Rob said, slipping back behind the drum set.

“It’s in 5/4 if I loop it,” Sam protested, but Rob could only smile.

“I know,” he said. After feeling the rhythm of the guitar, Rob laid down a heavy beat, dominated by open high-hat and a syncopated kick snare pattern. Best part? It was in 4/4.

At first, Sam faltered the rhythm, unsure of the new territory. In Bloom had never played a song in a polyrhythm before.

“Play on the beats, not every two!” Rob shouted over the sounds. Soon enough, Sam got into the groove, and the beat continued on.

Austin came in soon after, laying on first a standard riff, then continuing on, keeping with Sam’s 5/4 beat rather than Rob’s 4/4 pattern. It was one of the few times that Austin and Rob played separate things, and it sounded incredible.

They continued on for a few minutes, before slipping into the booth and hitting record, before playing the song again. By that time, the alcohol was slipped in (by a very quiet receptionist), and the three of them continued to drink while trying new ideas. For now, all they had was a riff, but it was something they were proud of.

To clear their minds, they launched into a cover of Panic Switch by Silversun Pickups, screaming the bridge from their instruments, letting Rob wail his own version of the nasally vocals. By the time they had finished, they were well and truly drunk.

Rob took a break from the kit for a moment, slipping to his phone and checking it for messages.

Would Jane come? He wasn’t sure, but he was hoping so. Having this much fun almost felt wrong. Was he doing it to escape dealing with the problems of being back into the room? He wasn’t sure anymore.

A part of him wanted to shoot a text to Zoe, but he denied that thought. He had better wait to see if any good could come from this session.

“Food?” Sam shot to Rob, breaking his concentration. Rob nodded, and soon enough the three were back, making jokes and ordering shitty food. Sure…he might have been frustrated and even angry. But he could easily ignore it. For now.

As if reality’s cold bite in the form of Rob leaving to go to the studio wasn’t enough to kill the decent mood Jane had put herself in that morning, the kiss he gave her before he left was. Well, not at first. At first it was great, enough to turn her on and almost beg him not to leave, but then… something happened. He abruptly pulled away from her, and the look in his eyes, contrary to his apology, seemed to have something hidden in them.

And that was what Jane was fearing the most from the current situation – Rob rethinking their relationship.

"Jesus, Jane. Paranoid much?"

Before she could call out to him, he had already exited the room, leaving her in the middle of the king sized bed alone. “Great,” she mumbled as she rubbed the bridge of her freckled nose.

The future was so unclear, at for the first time, it really worried Jane. So many factors could change the path ahead of her: whether or not she’d be able to produce new material in four days, whether or not Rob became fed up with seeing someone so controversial, whether or not the internet decided to forgive Jane and move on to the next scandalous story.

Instead of making herself cry, she opted for getting out of bed and rolling a joint for herself before going out onto the patio to attempt to come up with something for a new song. She absolutely did not want to go to the studio, especially empty handed. It was already bad enough that she had to defend the single constantly, which was a product of her writer’s block, but now to try to squeeze something else out? She felt hopeless.

A joint, a cigarette, and a screwdriver later, Jane had made a pile of crumpled up notebook paper on the patio table and was furiously scribbling on a piece of paper when she had finally had enough. Her earbuds were playing Heavy Fruit by He Is Legend, the hypnotic harmonies and unique rhythm pushing her through the difficulties of trying to produce something she didn’t want to.

“God damn it,” she whispered forcefully as she tossed her notebook on the floor and picked up her cracked phone to check the missed texts she had been avoiding and turn off the music.

One was from Andy.

Jane paused for a moment as she had a thought. “Andy.”

She called him, and was greeted by a groggy voice on the other end.
Jane: Hey, I’m sorry it’s early. And I’m sorry I didn’t respond last night. Things were a little crazy.
Andy: A little huh? I’m sorry about what happened, man. That article was awful.
Jane: Yeah… I’m trying not to think about it.
Andy: Got it. Well, what can I do you for?
Jane: Pressure is on for me to write a song in four days. I can’t even get past three lines. I guess I just wanted some advice.
Andy: Four days? Don’t they know that’s not how it works?
Jane: I don’t think they care. They want to distract everyone from my tits, I guess.
Andy: Ha. Well, I don’t know. Are you having trouble coming up with inspiration?
Jane: I mean, I got so much going on. So no, probably not. It’s just putting it in words. Plus, they never usually make songs that are easy to write for.
Andy: Be vague, then. You don’t have to be descriptive in lyric writing. If anything, when a band puts out a song where there’s mystery as to what the lyrics mean, the fans flip out and get excited trying to figure it out. All while you didn’t strain so hard writing it.
Jane: Hmmm, that might work. I’ll call you later, yeah?
Andy: Sounds good. Don’t put too much pressure on yourself, Jane.
Jane: Thanks, Andy.

Jane hung up the phone and squeezed her eyes shut momentarily before reaching down for the notebook once again, taking a moment to stare at the worn, leather cover.

”It doesn’t have to rhyme, fuck, you don’t even have to write a chorus if you want. Just write something you can sing.”

Jane gnawed on her bottom lip as she began writing on the notebook she had tossed on the ground prior, making little adjustments as she went in the form of scribbling over words and squeezing some in between others.

An hour and a half after Rob had left, she had something. And it kind of rhymed. She had no chorus, but that was something she could probably have Austin work on; he was always helpful when it came to filling in the blanks for Jane’s lyrics.

She quickly texted Sam for the address of the studio they were at, and after navigating around press that had formed at the hotel, she finally arrived at the concrete building. Jane had to take a few deep breaths before entering, and without taking off the round-framed sunglasses or the hood over her head, she was pointed to the direction of the room they were using by the young receptionist.

“Hi, guys,” her gruff voice greeted them. She immediately went over to the beer that had been delivered and was now displayed on a table in the corner.

The notebook wedged under her arm was tossed over to Austin.

In a messy, cursive script, the lyrics she had written sprawled across the page in an unorganized fashion:

”Swimming downward into the depths of my soul
But I can’t find the words you’d like to hear
And as you string together words from your unrequited thoughts
It only sounds like ringing in my ears
You’ll only be let down in time
If you let me become your only smile
Because what is left of the ruins of my body isn’t much
And I’ll only stay for a little while
The hole in my chest aches when it rains
And the skies as of late are consistently gray
Believe me when I say I’ll only cause trouble
With these unintentional games I play
And yet you say [x3]
Run while you can
‘Cause I’ll just leave you spinning
I’m not good for loving, baby
I’m only good for sinning.”

“It’s shit. Needs a lotta work and a chorus if that’s what you guys want. It’s the best I could do.”

Jane really didn’t want to discuss it further than that, so she diverted the attention away from her contribution.

“You guys wrote anything yet?” She plopped down in a chair and brought her knees to her chest before taking another swig of the beer. She decided to leave her sunglasses in an attempt to hide any dissatisfaction she felt for being there. All that she wanted to do now was lay around in bed and forget every current event. To mope around and be pathetic. To get laid (Rob had left so suddenly this morning.) Jane didn’t want to spend her day writing a song with her half-assed lyrics because Harold told them to.

But, she felt like she at least owed it to the guys to at least put some effort towards a new song – if that’s what they wanted – so they wouldn’t have Harold up their ass.

Her eyes couldn’t help but occasionally fall on Rob behind the tinted lenses. She had felt so confused since she left that morning, but it was neither the time nor place to have a discussion about it. He seemed to be in a great mood, probably from whatever they had come up with, and it wouldn’t be fair for her to ruin it.

So she sat there, pretending the best she could that she was enjoying herself as they played for her what they recorded. “That’s sick,” she said matter-of-factly. “I like it.” Her hand moved to her head to remove the hood and shake out her hair. “So, does Harold want this recorded and mastered in four days too?”

He couldn’t expect that much on top of playing another two shows, right?

Rob was in the middle of a hysterical fit when he saw Jane enter the room through his tear-filled eyes. He straightened himself up as he wiped his face, trying to remember what made him laugh in the first place.

He watched from his spot from the floor as Jane slipped past, heading for the alcohol and throwing Austin fresh lyrics along the way.

Rob was pleasantly surprised. Through the frustration of his own emotion, he had figured Jane wouldn’t have come up with much. He moved over to Austin, slipping a head behind his shoulder and reading over Jane’s lyrics.

Even through the dense fog of inebriation, he could certainly tell Jane’s lyrics were deeply personal—far more than he was expecting. Each line seemed relative to their own story; their own relationship. It was jarring, especially considering the style of Jane’s earlier work. Sure, some of it was more personal than others, but this one?

There was a slight tinge of anger that spawned from it. Not at her, but at the situation. That Jane had seemed to have been forced to write such introspective works due to the situation at hand. But there was also a deep tinge of remorse in him—that realized that Jane, too, shared the same fears about their situation as he did.

He tried to zone it out (which was infinitely easier this drunk) and simply nodded at Jane’s words, noting she didn’t seem to want to talk about it further.

Rob slipped behind the drum set again, and the boys showed their frontwoman what they had worked up in the time they had to practice. It wasn’t much, but (in Rob’s opinion), it was a killer line for a verse, and they had almost worked out a really nice bridge—filled with descending bass lines.

But Jane’s face was impossible to read, and her praise rang flat. She immediately transition into another question, causing Rob to question whether or not what they had played was actually good.

“We’re recording in Kansas City,” Sam answered. “He’ll master it and release it once we play it live in St. Louis. So…yeah. He does expect that, apparently.”

The way Sam had said it showed his own frustration at their situation—which wasn’t surprising. Sam was usually the friendliest to Harold (for obvious reasons) but he tended to understand what the band was saying as well, which was a very welcome voice.

“Let’s try some other stuff, alright?” Rob said. “Might as well.”

…

Four more hours had passed, and the boys felt no closer to the song than they had been four hours prior. The main melody had been hashed out to death, and the bridge was more defined, but they still lacked a chorus and many of the other pieces needed to tie the song together.

By the end of the session, Rob’s fingers bled softly through his gloves, and he slipped into the bathroom to wash his hands off. He had been pushing his callouses far beyond their capacity, and was left popping blisters and gritting his teeth in the restroom for the first time since their very first shows.

He slipped back out to the main studio, his mind blurred and fuzzy from all the cheap booze. The evening was still available to them, and he wondered what to do with it.

He looked to Jane, but couldn’t really tell what she may have wanted—not this drunk. The alcohol had mushed his senses and emotions together to the point where he didn’t know what he wanted or how he felt either.

Austin, the more sober of the bunch, had just finished pulling out a CD of their recordings and was on the phone, talking to Harold about what had been done. Turning to the only other member in the room, Rob pulled aside Sam.

“So,” Rob slurred out, “what do you want to do tonight?”

“I uh,” he stammered out, “I’ve got a date. Well, not a date, but—“

“Got it, got it.” Rob said.

Rob slipped past, approaching Jane.

“So,” he started. “How do you feel? Want to do anything?”

Rob wasn’t sober enough to worry about her response or his own intonation as he normally did, but a part of him wanted to really be with her.

And yet, another wanted something simpler. Maybe hanging out with Vicarious and Zoe.

Rob shook his head slightly. That was the booze talking.

Right?

"How'd they get so drunk?"

Jane was fighting the annoyance she felt at the display in front of her. Everyone was having fun, making jokes, and fucking around while she dealt with the inner turmoil of having private pictures exposed and being forced to write music she didn't want to. It was definitely selfish, Jane knew, to feel that way, but as the saying goes: Misery loves company.

She scratched her and furrowed her brow at Rob's question. "I, uh, I'm probably just gonna sleep all day. Still not feeling my best lately. You go have fun, yeah? I'll be fine." She lifted her feet to kiss him, then turned to Austin and Sam. "I'm gonna head out, guys. Text me if you need me."

She waved to everyone in the room before placing the hood back over her head and exiting, eventually finding her way out back to a cab.

It was a gloomy day, gray skies and a breeze contributing to a chill in the air. Jane leaned her head against the glass window in the back seat and sighed. It was sort of ironic that by her not wanting to do much today, she was probably pushing Rob to run to Vicarious (and Zoe), but it wouldn't be right to make him sit around all day while she threw herself a pity party in bed.

As she tried to remove the thoughts from her head, the cab arrived under the carport of the hotel, and she slowly made her way up to the room.

It only took her a few seconds to strip, locate a joint, swallow a Xanax that Andy gave her, and crawl into bed - the only safe place she had found on tour. She breathed a sigh of relief to feel the cool she's engulf her.

Hopefully, the funk she was in was temporary; it felt awful. Maybe she was just PMSing. Perhaps she was just being overdramatic. They were writing a song to help the situation her racy photos got them into, right? Zoe couldn't be that much of a threat to her, right?

"Fuck that," she whispered to herself aloud at her thoughts.

As the narcotic began to settle in, Jane convinced herself that she was allowed to feel as shitty as she wanted. She was sick of choking down her emotions like she always had.

Her body became heavy, along with her eyelids, and she had eventually drifted off into a heavy slumber, one that would probably last for hours. One that would hopefully take the edge off of the stress she was feeling. Before finally falling asleep, Jane had thoughts of texting Rob, but she decided against it. Knowing him, he probably needed his space anyway - a thought Jane didn't like to have.

Rob watched with conflicted thoughts and feelings as Jane disappeared from the three of them, down the hall and out into the open Minneapolis air. To be frank, the reason he had asked the question was to see how Jane was feeling—for some selfish reason, it never occurred to him that she would simply say she wasn’t feeling up to doing much.

Perhaps this one of those tests? Perhaps Rob needed to slip back to the apartment, join Jane and embrace her. But…that couldn’t be right. Jane was not one for games. Jane seemed to be the kind of girl that made fun of women who toyed with men. And besides—it was one of Rob’s absolute rules. His desire and ambition for honestly always turned angry when seeing or interacting with a person trying to test or examine him.

So, no. Most likely Jane was completely serious in her intentions, but Rob wasn’t going to chase after her. For better or worse, he was very drunk, very driven to stay true to some part of himself, and wasn’t going to head back to the apartment. This is something he was going to choose for himself, regardless of the consequences.

“What time do we leave tomorrow?” He asked his bandmates.

The response was a flat “nine-thirty,” from Sam, followed by: “We’re meeting up with Harold at seven in Kansas City. Hopefully we’ll be ready to record something by then.”

“I’ll catch you then,” Rob said, slipping out of the room and eyes locked onto the screen in his hand. He shot a text:

7:02, Rob: Where are you?

7:06, Zoe: In the bus, duh

7:07, Rob: Want to get out?

…

The next hour was a blur. Rob made his way over to Vicarious’ tour bus, made small-talk with the bandmates, and was back away as quick as he came. He, Zoe, and Trent all rode up to a National Forest about thirty minutes outside of town. Armed with cheap flashlights from a convenience store and piles of Trent’s supply, the three headed down a dark forest path—smoking as they went.

Rob loved the air out here. Minneapolis was a large city, sure, but just miles away was all of this clean air. No musky humidity of the south or dry heat of the west around here. Just calm, greenery all around.

His company was as fresh as the air. Without the years of knowledge, without being aware of their own perfections or imperfections, there was no need to mince words or really alter who he was to them. Rob felt so liberated here. The stresses of creating another single didn’t exist. Being acutely aware of how Jane was feeling wasn’t necessary out here. In fact, there wasn’t even signal out here. Complete disconnection. Complete bliss.

Sometime during that evening, the three stumbled upon an old shelter off the beaten path. It was just down, past a creek and over another ridge.

It was a wooden shelter, littered with trash from previous occupants and stylistic, sharp graffiti. But inside was dry, and nice, and the three sat inside, laughing and joking about everything from tour life to stories of their own past.

On the bluetooth speaker Trent had brought, a familiar song came on: I Think I Lost My Headache by Queens of the Stone Age. And while it’s sound and the record it came on were quintessential for the type of band Vicarious was, Rob couldn’t help but think of Jane.

Earlier this tour, she had bought him the record this track had come off; possibly as retribution for something she had done or outreach to Rob for something he had done. The time had passed and his mind was left so clouded by the surrounding smoke, Rob could no longer fully remember. The thought of her laying in a bed in this moment crossed his mind—her small body held by no one, left alone to her own thoughts, in a room alike the surroundings. In a city she had never been to before.

And as the song so subtly faded to it’s extended, melting outro of horns and squealing trumpets, the thoughts he had repeated as endlessly as the motif he heard. By the track’s so sudden conclusion, Rob has lost himself, within himself.

“Hey,” he heard. Turning, he could see Trent’s quite-concerned face. “You still with us?” He joked, passing another beer to him. Rob tried to let out a loose smile and play it off.

“Yeah,” Rob said. “I’m alright.”

Shortly afterwards, Trent excused himself from the little hideout (something about needing to find a decent restroom, or something of the sort), and it was just Rob and Zoe once again, alone in the small, enclosed space.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you,” Rob started, once the timing felt right. “What, uh, what was all that back in the bus?”

“Oh,” Zoe said, flat. “You wanna have that talk.”

The way she had approached her words—the way it seeped from her mouth like some overused mantra—threw Rob straight unto defense.

“What do you mean?” Rob asked.

“You’re going to ask me what I want, or what I’m trying to get. You’ll use words like ‘from this,’ like it’s supposed to mean anything.”

“Well,” Rob said, “I guess I just like to clarify things. I don’t want to give anyone the wrong idea.”

Zoe laughed. “I uh, I don’t know you too well man, but you think too much, you know that?”

“Yeah.”

The two dropped to silence for a bit.

“I’m not the kind of person that’ll go out and drown my sorrows in drugs or whatever,” Zoe started, no doubt referencing people Rob knew. “And I don’t claim any high moral ground about it, either. I’m just living for me right now.”

“I can understand that,” Rob said. Her words echoed in his mind, he and tried to hard not to overthink them, but before long, she continued.

“But I’m also not the kind of person that second-guesses herself. When I want something, I go get it. When I feel like staying, I’ll stay, or going, I’ll go. Honest to God, if tomorrow I felt like Vicarious wasn’t going to be any fun for me anymore, I’d catch the first flight back home. Ask Trent. I’ve done it before.”

“When?” Rob asked.

“Like a year or so ago,” Zoe said, “me and Andy were dating. Well, I guess we weren’t ‘dating,’ per se, but we were pretty much exclusive for a bit. And, one day, I found him fucking some other girl. In the bus, too. So, I bailed. Called my folks, told them to get to the airport, because I was coming home.”

“Then what happened?” Rob asked. He found himself leaned off of the back wall of the fort they had found for themselves. His elbows rested calmly atop his crossed legs, intent.

“I mean, Trent called me when I got back, begged me to come back. And I did, after about a week. But it wasn’t really because I felt like I left them or anything. It was because I realized that I was having too much fun with playing music to leave it behind because Andy cheated. And, I mean, fuck, I can’t even really say he cheated. We never even talked about being exclusive. As much as I felt like we were, there was no statement about it. Which is actually a good thing. Me and Andy became friends again because we weren’t labeling shit all the time. Or overthinking it. He got bored with what we were, I got over it. No problems. No mess.”

A cold gust of wind swung into the inclosed space, and Zoe sat herself, up, sliding over, next to Rob, and learning against him. He felt her cuddle up beside him, and while it was only shoulders, arms, and legs that were touching, everything felt wrong about it.

“We, uh,” Rob stammered out, “me and Jane agreed to be exclusive. I asked for it, too.”

Zoe seemed completely unfazed. “Why’d you say that?”

“I, uh—“

“Are we fucking?”

“…no.”

“Then don’t worry about it,” Zoe said. She slid in closer, leaning a head against his shoulder and closing her eyes. “Always talking,” she breathed, “always thinking.”

Rob leaned his own head back, and closed his own eyes. In here, in the silence, with the warmth of Zoe pressed up against him, he felt the fine line of his own rules and regulations cry out in terror. Where was the line? What was cheating? Should he be here? Could he even be friends with another woman like this?

But then, he thought next of Zoe’s thoughts and statements. And in truth, they were completely accurate. Rob had become a slave to himself some time ago. And no matter how many times he tried to put up a front for others to see, it would always collapse back down on top of him.

Expectations and worries and fears and failures all emancipated in endless fickle speeches.

Rob remembered the rooftop moment he had shared with Jane—perhaps the best memory of the entire tour. Maybe of his whole damn life.

He rarely had a moment with anyone that involved nothing. That let him be completely free. That rooftop was one of them. And this small shelter in Minneapolis—this was another. Sure, one was romantic and the other platonic, but the honestly was still the same.

And each time his mind wandered to Jane, her photos, the band, and the single, Rob worried he’d never have this feeling with Jane ever again.

…

About half an hour later, Trent returned, slipping over to Zoe’s free side and leaning against her. The three talked for a bit, before calling a cab, climbing out of the enclave, and returning to town. Rob wished a goodnight to both of them, before stepping out of the cab and entering the hotel lobby. And while the worst he had done that night was lean against another woman, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he had done something truly terrible.

But the night was old and as weary as himself, and his mind could no longer manage thinking of these things any longer. Rob made his way to the room, climbed into bed with Jane, and was out in three minutes flat.