HangYourSecrets

In Bloom [HangYourSecrets x megatrash] [18+]

Wanted Criminals by The Evens played quietly in Rob’s headphones as he stared out into Venice. The air here was calm, and the rivers that flowed through the city provided a great, relaxing ambience whenever Rob decided to take his headphones off.

He had walked out this way about a mile from the venue—against both the suggestion of Harold to stay low until the interviews happened as well as his better nature.

So much had happened emotionally in the past weeks. So many things had happened that had given him so much grief that all he wanted now was to be outside of his head. So far, the easiest way to do this was simply walk around and fill his ears with any sort of noise. Anything to drown out the racket inside his own head.

Here, he soon realized, he needed a distraction. Not from Jane, but from the whole band entirely. Anything to keep him from letting the part of his mind take over that was probably right.

The part that thought he had just made the biggest fucking mistake of his life.

Without so much as a second thought, he pulled out his phone and sent out a tweet to the world:

Any @InBloom_Band fans hanging out around Venice before the show? PM me.

It was inconspicuous enough, and while he was certain Harold would see it, he could see no harm in it. He could easily play it off as a merch giveaway, when in reality, he just wanted to see what sort of responses would come up.

In five minutes, he sorted through about ten separate offers. A few from men, another couple from women, most suggesting far more than Rob was willing to put up with.

One user seemed friendly enough above the rest, however. The profile picture seemed to show a happy Italian couple, including the message: @Rob_InBloom We’re pre-gaming with a couple of close friends. It would mean the WORLD to us if you stopped by.

Rob looked up as the song ended abruptly, leaving him with the simple Italian air, and the creeping feeling of his own thoughts.

No. He couldn’t turn back from what just happened. Not now.

He typed out: @pseudowax Address?

—

A few minutes of logistics later, Rob found himself in a clean apartment in downtown, sitting across from two very nervous fans. He smiled and thanked them again for the opportunity, making sure to get the obvious photos and signings done so that the group could talk.

As the rest of the group filed into the room, Rob soon began putting names to faces. Smiling and feeling good, being surrounded by so many people that seemed to be fans. Happy people. Willing to put up a stranger because he helps make good music. If Rob thought about it too much, he might have been uncomfortable.

After an hour or so of relentless answered questions, Rob left after taking down their names and promising them stuff signed by the whole band. They were cheery and happy as he walked out.

By the time he stepped back outside into the open air, evening was beginning to fill the air, and Rob knew he needed to get back towards the bus.

He called a cab, arrived quickly back to the Venue (which had nearly been in walking distance), and stepped inside.

He didn’t so much as bother to look around. The quiet inside the bus was more than enough recognition to him that there wouldn’t be much arguing. If he could just manage to leave quickly enough.

Rob pulled out a sharpie and slipped out a copy of the band’s album. He signed it in his usual way (an “RP” hastily written, then circled), and left it on the table with a note: For some fans. Please sign.

He slipped right back outside and made his way back into the venue.

As he opened the door, a knot seemed to form in his throat. A feeling of swelling immediately began to take hold. His chest seemed to cave into itself.

He immediately broke for the restroom, slamming the door behind him.

Tears had already begun streaming down his face, and his body soon began to shake.

He leaned against the wall, trying hard to pull out his phone. He dropped it twice before managing to activate Siri; ignoring the slew of missed calls and texts.

“Call…Aaron,” he muttered. He was surprised he could get that much out. And he could only hope that there was enough time for him to answer before he completely lost control—

“Rob?” Aaron answered. “Where are you? We tried to call you earlier but—“

“Help,” Rob said, in a tone Aaron hadn’t heard in several years.

“Oh fuck,” Aaron responded. “Where?”

Rob didn’t respond.

“Where, Rob?!”

“Venue. Bathroom.”

“I’m coming.”

The phone clicked off, and Rob lowered himself against the tile flooring of the bathroom.

His head seemed to throb to the brink of explosion.

—

Twenty minutes had passed, and Rob was sitting upright again; his hands were wrapped tightly around a water bottle, and Aaron was sitting next to him.

It was the most debilitating panic attack Rob had had since high school. He and Aaron used to have a system in place to deal with such a thing, but years had passed since then. Rob used to have panic attacks weekly then.

Now, it seemed, those were coming back into reality.

“Any idea what it could have been?” Aaron finally asked once it seemed that Rob had had a decent grip on himself.

After a moment, he responded: “I think I broke up with Jane. I didn’t mean to…I think…I didn’t want it to sound like…that…”

“Hey, dude,” Aaron cut him off. “It’s fine. I don’t need all of the details. You’ve been rock solid recently anyways.”

Rob felt anything but rock solid. His moments sitting here on the bathroom seemed to undermine any newfound confidence he had had. Any faith in his own resolve. Here…he felt completely and utterly worthless. 

“You good for the show?”

“We have to play,” Rob muttered almost to himself. “We need to play.”

“If you can’t Rob, it’s ok—“

”I can play, Aaron.”

“…alright then.” Aaron looked down to his watch. “We’ve still got time just take a moment and just breathe, ok? Just breathe…”

—

The blur of the day brought Rob next to find himself exiting the restroom with Aaron close by behind. Out here, Sam and Austin were standing—giving concerned looks, but saying nothing. Rob was thankful, at least, for that.

All of that work he had put into taking the initiative. All of the effort he had taken to resolve things. It all felt so worthless now.

But maybe only to him. Maybe if he could just fake it. Maybe that could work.

Or not. Everything in Rob’s head felt like a fucking blur.

“Hey dude,” Austin said, finally approaching. He handed the now-signed record over to Rob. “We were throwing around the idea of doing the interview today, but after what happened…”

Austin cut himself off. “Nevermind. We’ll just take the days as they come. Harold called and said he told of some of the dates wrong, so tomorrow we have completely off. Naples the day after that.”

“Yeah, sounds great,” Rob said. Both of them talked to each other more like strangers than friends. At this point, Rob felt distance from anyone and everyone.

“Just uh,” Austin continued, feeling the discomfort of the situation, “just let me know if you need anything from me, ok?”

“Yeah, will do, man.” Rob said dryly. As if the words fell limply from his mouth. He turned from Austin and grabbed a beer bottle, downing in it half a minute. He immediately reached for another one.

And then another.

He watched as Sam’s hand intercepted him on the fourth bottle. “Dude,” Sam said, “you still need to play.”

Rob nodded, turning around, and making his way into the green room. He tossed the record down onto one couch and laid down on the other. He reached into his pocket, and pulled out something he had been saving for a long time.

A handful of adderall pills.

He shoved them all into his mouth and swallowed painfully. He could only hope they kicked in before the show.

If he could just make it to the other side of the show…then.

Then he could sleep.

In Bloom [HangYourSecrets x megatrash] [18+]

Rob waited patiently as the rest of the entourage faded from the room—save for Jane, who held back. The earlier moment the two had shared in bed, delaying what was seemingly inevitable for them, had seem to come. Reckoning. At a time where Rob felt like doing nothing but focusing on saving what little public credibility the band members had left.

It was perhaps rather short-sighted of him to try to put off this conversation—for all his growth and change, he still wanted desperately to go off and think on things. To figure out what would be best for them both. But the road bred a certain type of rush to his life—the constant struggle against working in the timeframe given than the timeframe he necessarily wanted to work with.

”If you’re gonna end things, just do it now and get it over with,” the words poured from Jane before she lost composure entirely. It was so painfully fatalistic, but it was honestly the truth that Rob needed to hear from the beginning. The entire preceding tour had been nothing but the ebb and flow of Jane and Rob’s relationship. The collapse of reason and logic to their own emotions. And now, looking at things from his previous mentality—being cold and pragmatic about the future—it seemed so hopelessly futile. Like the entire event had been a massive waste of time, but not necessarily in the way he had expected.

There’s a law in economics called the sunk cost fallacy—something Rob remembered from the haze of high school and history classes. The argument that continuing in a bad investment simply because of the time so far invested is less painful than ending the investment entirely.

Economics and relationships were a world away from each other, but Rob couldn’t help but think on that level of logic—he had been trying to do so ever since his last outburst caused him to need stitches. He wondered if all the nights spent together with Jane would have been worth it if they just agreed to part ways, here and now. Would the schism between Vicarious and them have been worth it in the wake of what they had done together? The loss of Zoe, and Jane’s apparent loss of Andy—all of it? And what about the nights in the mideast Rob had spent in the woods, talking through it all with friends he then-trusted? Was any of that relevant? Would this entire tour be relevant if the group collapsed in the wake of all of these damn press releases?

There was so much to deal with—so many fracture pieces of the whole of the band’s image and sound that needed to be dealt with. And here, in the middle, were two young adults far out of their comfort zone. Turning to each other for solace before immediately regressing into their old ways. Even Rob couldn’t excuse himself of that. Here he was, standing before somebody he truly loved, thinking about the logical outcomes of their proposed separation. Something he had done so many years ago as a defense mechanism against the very issues that had pushed Jane and Rob to this moment, here and now, in a waiting room in Naples. Because for whatever fucked-up reason, it felt better to put a cover of pragmatism over the fact that Rob felt worse in this moment that he had ever felt before. Because here he was with the decision given to him by Jane to make.

“The interview will be fine,” Rob said, scratching at his nape. He knew it wasn’t the first words Jane probably wanted to hear from him following her own confessional, but it was what he had. Business first. And not only business, but the easiest problem to solve. If anything, this would buy him that much more time to think. “I guess we’ll just have to say it all. There won’t be anything left for them to pick at if we just come clean with everything. No matter how shit that’s going to be.”

Rob let out a thick sigh. Now for the main event,” he thought coldly in his mind.

“I love you,” he began. “I just…I just want you to know that. I care about you, and no matter what we decide, don’t you dare think what I told you a few days ago was a lie. Because it wasn’t. I love you.”

Rob sat down from his then-standing position, placing a hand to his face. He averted his eyes from her.

“…but I don’t know if we can keep doing this.”

The words pierced his own heart as he said them. Words he knew to be true to himself but words he never wanted to say aloud.

“We’ve been everywhere on this tour. But it always seems to fall apart each time to put the pieces together again. And who knows? Maybe we just need to come clean in this interview about all of this shit. Maybe that will help. But I’m just…I’m tired of feeling like I’m in a cycle.”

Rob looked back up to her—his eyes welling up with emotion, but every part of him begging himself not to cry. Tears could not help him. Nor would they help her. “A few days ago, we were completely comfortable with each other? Now? I hardly know where you were at the last two days. And the same is true of me. And it just hurts to feel like we’re constantly trying to figure this own while…and I really don’t want to fucking say it but…the others get neglected for it.”

Rob could feel his heart pounding in his chest. The final gasp of his dying emotions he had chosen to suppress in this moment. Because in this moment, he had to approach this logically. Which meant nothing but pain for everyone involved.

“I want to be with you Jane. I’ve wanted it for years and I didn’t even know it. But we owe it to Sam and to Austin…to Aaron and Lyla and Harold and Vicarious and everyone else we’ve put in this position…to be a band again. And maybe that means we need to be honest with each other first, before being intimate again. And until we can be honest…”

Rob stopped himself. He wasn’t willing to say it.

“Let’s fix this. For them. Maybe through that we’ll be honest with each other again.”

Rob looked down to the stitches in his arm. “Because what’s working right now…it just isn’t.”

Rob could almost feel himself break with his last words.

He had laid it all out. Now all he could do was wait.

In Bloom [HangYourSecrets x megatrash] [18+]

Rob couldn’t manage to get a decent night’s sleep if he tried.

It was always the same—the instantaneous fallout into a deep sleep, then the light semi-sleep state he seemed to dwell in for the rest of the night.

He had finally begun to accept that the day was beginning, when he felt Jane’s body rolling over as well, positioning herself to where she could clearly see Rob. And from the look on her face, she was definitely feeling as shitty as he was. The stresses of the tour, as always, seemed to be taking a deadly toll.

His mind was lost in a fog, in the moment—her words falling on his ears as they had so many times, but he somehow found himself not thinking so much. Not processing her emotions as they came to him. The way he had always done before, perhaps, felt much less apparent in the present moment. He had been quickly pulled aside by her only moments after accepting the day had begun, and already here was another slew of apologies.

Was he cruel for thinking so? Probably so. He couldn’t hardly blame Jane for taking the time for apologizing—he was thankful for it, in all honesty. But the consistently of a morning wakeup call—the quick apologies just after the haze of the night, in sleep or in wait, felt so very tired to him regardless.

It was too much. That much he was sure of. Too much for him to think of now, when his mind wandered so little in this moment. It only wanted catharsis. A moment of escape. Refuge to anything other than this moment.

And yet, that was the same as what Jane had done. What she had given to him yesterday. For him to be so mad at her for this, and wanting to leave, was also the very thing that had gotten him mad in the first place.

He couldn’t just walk away from this—no matter how hard he wanted to. And she was, in fact, approaching him. Maybe in a way he wasn’t the biggest fan of—but in her own way nonetheless.

And through it all, he still loved her.

That much was enough to fight his bitter nature.

Without so much as a word, Rob slipped forward, towards Jane, and pulled her close to him. He laid back down onto his back, gently maneuvering her body atop his.

“Hey,” he whispered, “You can’t go back. Neither of us can. The best we can do is deal with what’s been done.”

Simple words with little more meaning than the sum of their parts, perhaps, but it was what Rob had to offer her.

“Let’s try to start this over, alright?” Rob said. He glanced at the time on his phone, before turning back to her. “We’ve got thirty minutes until we really should be getting up. Let’s just, relax, alright? Thirty minutes of quiet. Then we’ll deal with whatever the fuck’s on the other side of this curtain.”

It felt like a decent compromise; the soft spot between his new-found drive to fix the damage that had been done, and his fight-or-flight response telling him that laying in bed was surely the safest option. Plus, he just gave himself what he always felt like he lacked—more time.

Rob wrapped his arms around Jane and closed his eyes again.

And this time, if only for a few minutes, Rob slept soundly.

—

An hour later, most of the band’s entourage sat comfortably in a waiting room in Vienna. The venue here was stark and cold—the walls seeming as if they had never heard music within them, even if it were false. Crumbled papers labeled “Vicarious - Waiting Room” sat in the trash. Tonight would be a solo show.

Rob fiddled with his coffee (his second that morning already) and stared blankly into the conference phone as Harold walked the group through what was happening stateside:

“It’s bad, but maybe it’s fixable,” Harold said. If Rob had done the math in his head correctly, it was most likely late at night for Harold. “Rob, thanks for that press release. I never got a chance to tell you. It definitely bought us some time to think.”

“Yeah,” Rob said, staring into the brown liquid. “I’m no poet.”

“You don’t have to be,” Harold said. “It worked fine.”

There was silence in the room before he continued.

“I got in touch with Vicarious, but they’re not giving me any clear answers. So, for the time being, we’re going to be following them, one day behind. They’ll play in Naples tonight while you play in Venice. Tomorrow, you’ll play in Naples while they play in Rome. You’ll play Rome while they play Monaco, and so on. Until I get further word from them, that’s what I’ve told the Venues to do. We’re playing on schedule, so we’re not interrupting any other bands, but since Vicarious is ahead of us a day, they seemed to be sharing a few of their setlists with other local acts.”

“You think they’ll be alright with it?” Lyla asked.

“I don’t think it’ll last,” Harold said, “but I don’t think they’re going to come back onto the set as scheduled. As for us, we need to make a press appearance.”

“I don’t know what the fuck you want us to say, dude,” Austin cut in. He fiddled with his own drink—a beer. “We’re not trained for this shit. We don’t know what you want from us.”

“Then play that up if you have to,” Harold said. “Say that this is all new to you. That all you really want to do is play music. Rob started that angle, and I intend to stick with it, for now.”

Rob’s eyes scanned the room to Jane. Her eyes seemed tired, but he wasn’t sure what else she had been thinking of since this morning. 

“Did you schedule an interview?” Rob asked, still looking to Jane.

“Not until I figure it out with you guys,” Harold said. “Look—clearly there’s been some shit happening over there. I get that. I’m not going to get mad about what’s out there, because they’re nothing that I can do about it. But what I can do is make sure we’re all on the same page from now on. That’s why we’re all meeting now. So?”

Rob looked around to his bandmates. For all his forward thoughts on what they should do, the idea of another interview petrified him. He opted to simply sit and wait—and hope somebody else spoke for him.

In Bloom [HangYourSecrets x megatrash] [18+]

Rob heard Jane’s soft approach, and felt her form sit down beside him, but he couldn’t really bring himself to turn to her.

He had figured that someone would have approached sooner or later. Their set was in just moments, and he had been the one to argue for the show to go on. Either with or without Jane. He had been pretty confident she would’ve come back (as she did), but couldn’t really feel much solace for it. In face, he wasn’t feeling much of anything at the moment. Just the cool air against his skin and—now—Jane’s head resting atop of him.

She soon requested her usual—silence and contact. Feeling each other—being with each other, without so much of a discussion. As mutual understanding. Rob tried to fight off the feeling that Jane should’ve known better. Knowing he would be mad at her departure, only to return and ask that no words be said between them.

So he obliged her. The two never said a word after hers, and they simply sat together—their minds surely apart. Rob thought only of the issues he would need to deal with that night, on the bus. The phone calls to Harold. Organizing an interview. Figuring out which steps to take going forward. He was mad at himself for his own actions; his indecision, his hair-trigger temper, his outbursts…

He felt like a child thinking of things he had done so commonly for so long. Perhaps this morning was an epiphany. Maybe slicing your arm open made you realize that you needed a mental change. Or maybe not.

Rob looked down to his arm at the stitches and grimaced slightly. Regardless of what the doctor said, he was sure the set tonight was going to hurt.

—

He found himself in the bathroom about ten minutes later, cleaning up before set. A cigarette hung loosely from his lips; the last of the pack he had only purchased hours ago. Through the haze and into the mirror Rob could see his own reflection; long hair tucked underneath a beanie, straggling hairs hanging from his beard that gave him more the appearance of an indie folk band than anything else. Stark grey lines stricken beneath bleary eyes.

He might have looked better than the last time he had really looked at himself, but he was certainly showing signs of the fatigue from the day. Shockingly enough, his morning retreat with the fans had still happened only hours ago—after the interview that warned him of the incoming bullshit.

A part of him wanted to call Madeline and ask her for some advice. Maybe since she knew, she would know what to do. But as always, a stagehand interrupted his thoughts with a knock at the door—the band had already delayed ten minutes more than they should have, and had an especially long set by behest of the venue, in order to cover losses from the cancelled tickets. Whether most or only some of the concertgoers had pulled out in the wake of Vicarious’ cancellation, it was only to be seen after the show.

Rob walked out from the bathroom, immediately grabbed a beer from the craft table, and walked out onto stage to considerable applause. It was strange how the group approached the stage now—one at a time, each with their own little moment in the spotlight. Perhaps soon enough, they’d need a blackout and a big entrance. Or a large curtain drop. The logistics of which made Rob nauseous at the thought.

The bright lines cast large flares of light into his eyes. He couldn’t truly make out any of what was around him, but could see Jane’s familiar form in front of him. Her head was turned towards him with a familiar, slight tilt.

He blinked twice and looked back down to fiddle with his kit. He needed to scavenge up every ounce of energy he had left, and a come-to-Jesus-meeting with Jane on stage was not part of the plan. At least, not now.

Maybe it was a little fucked up, but she did ask that they didn’t discuss this. It would be hard to accuse him of the silent treatment when both of them were expected to perform—right here, right now.

Rob tapped off the high hat once Sam started the show to give him a beat, and the four took off yet again.

—

Towards the end of the setlist, Rob had just about given his all. Slight dribbles of blood oozed from his stitches, down his hands and onto the kit. It wasn’t the first time he had bled on his kit, and he was surprised no one had gotten a clear shot of it from the press pit. The drier part of him laughed at the thought of younger drummers thinking it was “metal” of him.

The song soon stopped suddenly. Rob looked up from his little moment of fervor to see Jane stumble through a fan participation event.

A cover up, for how her voice had given out moments earlier.

Rob tried to keep up a good face; softly playing the main groove of the single to keep up the energy instead of dropping out completely. He looked to Austin, and used a nod to count him back into the fold. He followed suit, managing to play four tones that matched the key of the song. The two locked into a sort of quiet, filler-beat, that played off as the fan was walked to the stage by a clearly-perturbed security officer.

Rob couldn’t help but crack a light smile as he and Austin seemed to prove their own reputation as a solid rhythm section—holding back just long enough for Sam to set the new fan up onto the mic, and—with a few well-placed drum fills—counting the song directly back in as if Jane had never stopped.

Once the single finally came to an end, Rob ended the song with three distinct crashes (as opposed to his usual style of a drawn-out conclusion), and climbed forward, over the set and to the center stage. He gestured emphatically at the fan, who seemed to be nearly crying as the crowd roared in applause. Truth be told, she killed it.

Then, he Sam and Austin waved one more time, before taking the fan and slipping backstage without another word.

“Holy shit, dude!” Austin said to the fan. “You’ve got some pipes, I’ll give you that.”

The fan introduced herself, thanking them dearly all the while. Rob moved over to the craft tables and grabbed two beers—handing one to the girl.

“I don’t know what drinking age is here,” he said, “but you earned it.”

For the next twenty minutes, the remaining members of In Bloom took the time to thank the fan, meet with her friends back in the crowd, and take any and all selfies required. It was almost this sort of mutual agreement between them—their public image needed some vast improving, and if just one blog would run an ad about how happy they just made this girl, it might help. It wasn’t so much that it was ingenue of them, but more so that they knew they needed to try.

Afterwards, the three of them helped out in silence with Lyla and Aaron (Lyla again having to help Rob wrap gauze around his arm), and the group was back in the bus just in time for Grant to turn it on.

Just before they entered, however, Rob slipped over to the back of the bus and grabbed a few of their own records—probably their fifth pressing since beginning the tour. He moved inside with them, having Sam and Austin sign a few (Jane was nowhere to be seen), and he moved back outside again to the stragglers waiting near their bus. He happily handed out the copies he had, and thanked them again for coming out to the show.

He returned to the bus, spent. He collapsed onto the couch with a heap.

“If that doesn’t improve our image,” he muttered to Sam and Austin, “I fucking give.”

“That’s pretty much the last of that batch of records,” Aaron said. “I’m going to have to call Harold again to put in a new order.”

“How many times has that happened?” Rob asked. The logistics of both Aaron and Lyla’s job had both been wasted on him during the last few weeks.

“Almost every other show, now,” Aaron said. “I have to limit shirt and record sales for every show just so we have enough for the next one.”

“Holy shit,” Sam muttered to himself. It seemed that they were all taken aback by the news.

“If this is Europe, man,” Austin said, “How’s the last US tour gonna be?”

“One continent at a time,” Rob said, peeling himself off of the couch. “We’ve got bigger things to worry about right now.”

Rob slipped back towards the bathroom without a word—pulling off an article of clothing with each step. He could hardly manage to stay awake in the shower. With each minute he cranked the water heat higher and higher, until the only reason he was awake was due to the scalding water.

He climbed out soon after, drying himself off, and moving with a towel to his bunk.

Inside, he found Jane; her small body nuzzled into a corner of his bed.

His first thought was immediately to climb into her own bed. To find some time to sleep by himself. But the more he thought of it, the less of a good idea that seemed.

He loved her. That much was true. He had told her that what already seemed like so long ago. Because it was the honest truth. The other honest truth was, just because he loved her didn’t make him happy with her. Not at this moment.

Too tired to think and too weary to contest any more, Rob dropped the towel to the floor and climbed into his own bunk, and shut the curtain.

He pulled Jane close to him, got comfortable, and fell asleep in moments.

Maybe it would work out. Who knew?

At this point, he just needed to survive each day as it came. Hopefully he and Jane could work something out by then.


In Bloom [HangYourSecrets x megatrash] [18+]

Rob opened the tour bus to find a surprisingly quiet cabin. After all of the endless fears had soared through his mind in this moment—all of the different ways this conversation would turn out, he didn’t think of this one.

And as he marched past the living room, past the cots, and pulled the curtain back on Jane’s bunk, he realized that this was one of the options he hadn’t have accounted for.

That Jane wouldn’t even be here.

That she would leave them.

“She left,” Sam said. He had been sitting on the couch when the door had opened, and chased Rob down as he searched for her. “I didn’t get to talk to her much.”

“What did she say?” Rob immediately asked, turning to face Sam.

“Nothing, dude,” Sam said. “I couldn’t get a think out of her. She definitely threw up, though.”

Rob froze for a minute, trying to think of whatever that could have meant. As soon as nothing really came to mind, however, he dismissed that last part entirely, and moved back forward to the front of the bus.

He wasn’t even sure where he was trying to go.

“Rob,” Austin called out, having caught up to him. He had been tirelessly trying to keep up with Rob. “Dude, just wait a minute—“

Rob felt his hand across his shoulder, and shook it off without a second thought. He seemed to move without reason—take action without even thinking about it. He opened the front door to the bus and moved due right, heading straight for the Vicarious tour bus.

He could hear his two bandmates call after him as he moved. In fact, he could even make out the flash of a light bulb to the right—mounted atop a far-reaching camera from the fence nearby.

Not that it mattered. What could one more photo of him do? What else could possibly happen?

When he had entered the bus, it was confusion. A swirling sea of emotion; of which he wasn’t sure which he had felt. But now?

Now it was anger. The same anger that had driven him to blow up on the reporter back in the states. Or slice his arm open earlier that day. The typical demeanor he had always held—his timid nature, lack of action, all of it… felt slowly decayed by the tour. And something about seeing those photos…seeing the sheer lunacy of what he had done. Of what Jane had done. Of all of it. Like watching a movie, or reading a book…and knowing now in retrospect just what they had done. What they had done to each other.

His thoughts faded again as he knocked thrice on the metal door.

In a few seconds, the door opened a crack, and Trent’s face peered out through the opening. His eyes shot deep into Rob. Funny enough, that they had been pretty good friends not so long ago. Now? He was most likely the last person Trent wanted to see that day.

Silently, the door opened, and Rob stepped inside. The door closed quickly behind him.

“If it wasn’t for the paparazzi, I would’ve slammed that door in your face,” Trent said as he peered out the blinds.

Inside of the tour bus, the air was coated in a thick haze. The overwhelming stench of pot hung in the air, clouding the visibility down considerably. Immediately around here, Rob could see Matt sitting in the booth nearby; eyes down to the bong in his hands. No one else seemed around, but the door to the back room remained closed. The same room Rob had spent so much time in. The walls of this bus had seen so much history—even only in the past few days. And he could only wonder what took place in that back room tonight.

“Alright,” Trent said, after checking to see if the coast was clear, “the fuck do you want?”

“For better or worse, man,” Rob started, “We need to fucking talk about this. We’re touring together. We have a show tonight. We have to do something, and we have to say something.”

“The show?” Matt asked, looking up from a long hit. “Fuck the show, man.”

“We’re not going on,” Trent said. “Not like this.”

Rob watched as Trent’s eyes scanned down to Rob’s fresh stitches, then back to his face.

“It does’t seem like you’re in much shape to go on, either,” he muttered.

“Where’s Zoe?”

“Fuck off,” came the curt reply, as Trent made his way around Rob and back over to the booth. Rob turned to face Trent again.

“She asked to talk,” Rob said. “Not me.”

And, like clockwork, the back door opened, and Rob could see Zoe’s slender form through the haze on the other side of the doorframe.

“Come on,” he could hear her say. He followed quickly, away from Trent and Matt and entering the room, before closing the door behind him.

The moment it did, Rob immediately wanted to turn back. The idea of being in a room alone with Zoe again was daunting. The amount of things they had never concluded—the moments they shared and the places they went—it was all so fresh in his mind. And, if he was honest with himself, he wasn’t truly over it. And how could he be? The number one rule of breakups was to cut contact. How could that be done on a tour?

The web of relationships and affairs between the two bands was too complicated to explain, even to himself. But he had to. He had to deal with this.

Even if Jane refused.

He tried not to think of her as he moved to sit onto the bed. “Andy?” He asked simply.

Zoe shook her head. “He saw Jane leave the bus, and took off soon after.”

“You think he’s going after her?”

“I don’t know,” Zoe said, sitting gently on the bed a good distance away. “I don’t think so. He just walked off. He just needs some time to get his head back on straight.”

Rob nodded. What could he say? He scanned his thoughts for what needed to be discussed, but where paragraphs were before, nothing lay dormant now. Being back inside of this room was bringing up more than enough memories tainted by what came after them.

Rob slowly relaxed his body, sliding back onto the bed. “What the fuck are we supposed to do, Zoe?”

Silence followed after that. For what felt like hours, the two of them stayed in the room, just staring off. It was probably only a minute or so. But it was clear that Zoe was feeling the same way Rob was. Good and bad. Everything and nothing. Such a strange way to meet after what had happened.

“I suppose you’re mad at me,” Zoe finally whispered out into the open air. “You certainly look like the fool in the article.”

“I think I was,” Rob said. His eyes stared blankly into the ceiling. “I think we both were. …what were we thinking?”

Rob could hear Zoe softly begin to sob.

“I just…” Zoe tried to start. After a moment, she continued: “I just want to go home, man. Back to Colorado. Back before it all began. I used to…I used to think that this was what I wanted out of life. And I almost left because of my break-up with Andy. But touring…playing our music live? It was what I wanted. And now…now I’m not so sure.”

Rob wanted desperately to empathize with Zoe. To comfort her. But all that had come before…perhaps it was better off if they didn’t comfort each other.

“What are Trent and Matt thinking?” Rob asked, changing the subject.

After a moment, Zoe could be heard collecting herself. She seemed to straighten up, before: “I think they just want to go home.”

“And Andy?”

“He seems like he wants to continue. I think…I just—I don’t know.”

Rob sighed. “What about your manager?”

“He’s cancelled tonight for us. We’re skipping Venice and going straight to Naples. He thinks we should play a solo show in Naples while you play the set in Venice, but I don’t know. I don’t think that’s going to help anything.”

There was another long silence, before she spoke again: “We’re leaving as soon as Andy comes back. After we get some distance, we’re going to decide the rest of the tour.”

Rob nodded. He slowly pulled himself up from his laid position, seated now next to her.

“I think I’m going to have to put out something. Anything,” he said softly. “We can’t just be silent. It’s just going to fester out there.”

Zoe seemed to think for a moment. “I understand.”

Rob gently lifted a hand up and over, grasping at Zoe’s thigh.

“Good luck, Zoe,” he said, looking her in the eyes directly. And for some reason, he felt as if this was truly the last time he would see her.

Only time could confirm or deny.

Zoe nodded. “You too.”

—

As soon as Rob re-entered his tour bus, everyone inside (save for Grant) quickly approached.

They stood in silence around Rob as he spoke: “I talked to Vicarious. They’re not playing tonight. They’ll tell us more later.”

“That’s it?” Austin asked. Rob nodded.

“Jane?” Rob asked. Sam only shook his head.

He sighed deeply, before moving back to his bunk and pulling out his laptop. He came back to the main room, sitting himself on the couch and opening the screen.

“I’m going to say something,” Rob muttered to himself, just loud enough for the rest of the entourage to hear it.

“What?” Aaron asked. He seated himself down by Rob.

“I have to,” he said, louder. “Even if it does nothing.”

—

An hour later, Rob scanned back over the text:

Dear Friends,

You’ve all heard some pretty nasty stuff about us in the news today. A lot of private, personal moments were taken far out of context and shared online for all the world to see. We’re deeply hurt by this result, but we know there’s little we can to now that the information is out there. Sometimes life is more complicated than a set of photographs, but perhaps those are easier to sell.

Unfortunately, our friends with Vicarious have decided not to play at the show tonight in Vienna. As for us, we’re going to keep going. Because a couple of photographs isn’t going to stop us from giving Vienna the good time that they paid for. And while we respect Vicarious’ decision to pull out, we’re hoping to put this all behind us as soon as we can.

Please, try not to focus too much of what others tell you of us. We all just want to give you a great time and make some great music. And we hope to see you all on the road, very soon.

Much Love,

In Bloom

—

Rob slid the laptop over to Austin, then Sam to read. Both nodded gently and gave their word of approval.

“Send that to Harold,” Rob said, standing up. “Have him put that out immediately.”

“What about Jane?” Lyla asked, standing over the laptop and reading the text with Aaron.

“We can’t wait for her,” Rob said. “We don’t have time.”

He moved for the door.

“Where are you going?” Sam asked.

Rob turned to face him:

Where do you think?

—

Ten minutes passed to find Rob seated on the gravel atop the concert venue’s rooftop. His phone had been left back on the bus, and the only thing he carried with him was a pack of cigarettes—of which, he was nearly finished.

He had solved the problem—or at least, in his mind, he had. Perhaps he had only put a band-aid over the dam that had broken. Or maybe he had only bought them a nice before the vultures that moved about them would come to feast.

But at least he had done something. And that was more than Jane had done.

Only hours ago, he had wanted so desperately to see her. To figure this out with her. So that together, they would’ve been able to handle it. Just as they had been together after the night outside the venue. As they had been together these past few days.

Fuck me, right? Rob thought to himself, and the thought made him laugh.

It felt like the first time he had laughed all day. Perhaps it was fitting, it was at himself.

Because it sure as hell felt like the joke was on him.




In Bloom [HangYourSecrets x megatrash] [18+]

Rob and Austin climbed into the cab, but before Rob could tell the driver the way back to the lot, Austin slipped forward to him.

“Take us to a nice coffeeshop,” he said suddenly. The driver nodded, and the car pulled off of the curb.

Before Rob could ask, Austin turned to him:

“I mean, come on. You’ve got to be tired of drinking beer at ten in the morning.”

“Alright, alright.” Rob said, leaning back. Spending time with Austin was probably for the best. His relationship with Jane had already improved so much, it was only fair to try and make amends with each person in the group. He had no idea how long the feeling would last.

On the way, Rob pulled out his phone and snapped a picture of the two of them. After talking to the driver, he put it on Instagram with the caption:

Me and @Austin_Hull are hitting up Caffe Amouri Coffee Roaster in Vienna. Come on out if you’re already awake and waiting for the show.

“If I’m going to get ambushed by fans,” Rob said, “then it’s going on my terms.”

Austin couldn’t help but laugh, and the two continued talking all the way to the shop.

Once they got inside, Rob and Austin were greeted by a sizable group that had gathered in the past ten minutes. Rob and Austin took turns shaking hands and ordering coffee, and soon they had dragged a few tables around and hung out with the dozen or so people. Another ten or so filed in as they waited, and the two band members made sure to sign any merch placed in front of them.

It was a nice experience, to say the least. Rob’s impromptu experiment had worked, and for good reason. Aside from interviews, Rob—and to some extent, the rest of the band—hadn’t made any effort to be accessible to the fans. Part of it was the stress of the road, but the other half seemed to be little more than negligence. Meetings like this—with twenty people or so, that he could learn the names of—were much more comfortable than confrontations outside of the tour bus.

A half hour later, many of the fans had gone off, promising to be at the show. Rob and Austin both took names down to get the fans some free stuff that night at the show, and after taking some photos, had about wrapped up the meetup.

“Maybe that’ll help with our ‘press problems,’” Austin joked to Rob as the two made their way outside. “Still dunno what the fuck that Madeline girl was on about.”

A part of Rob wanted to pull out his phone to check and see what the news had been saying about them recently, but the better half of him argued against it. It was only depressing to him to see—rumor mills churning out noise about Jane, along with some people still on about Rob’s radio blowup back in the states. He had avoided it a while ago, but the buzzing in his pocket forced him to pull out the phone regardless.

1 New Voicemail from Jane

Rob listened to it as he and Austin waited for a cab to arrive. By the time the voicemail ended and Rob climbed into another cab, his happier mood had already faded.

“What’s up?” Austin asked, seeming to have noticed.

“I don’t know yet,” Rob said, pulling out his phone, “but it’s not good.”

Of course it couldn’t last, Rob thought to himself. It never could. He braced himself for whatever was about to come up. What could it be this time? More nudes? No….he doubted that. And felt bad for even assuming. Maybe it was something with Vulture back in the states? No…Jane wouldn’t apologize for that.

It wasn’t until the image of Jane and Andy locked together that Rob realized what Jane had apologized for.

Rob felt his skin start to boil immediately—his face rushed with blood, and he couldn’t do anything more than stare at the screen.

“Rob,” Austin said, having looked over to the phone. “Breathe man. You’re gonna pop a blood vessel.”

Slowly letting some air out, Rob scrolled down to see more news. In fact, Variety seemed to have a new exclusive, posted no more than ten minutes ago.

“Well, it can’t be any worse than that, right?” Rob heard Austin say next to him but he couldn’t bring himself to say anything. He wanted to scream. Right then and there, he wanted to yell until his vocal chords fried. Why couldn’t things be normal for just one fucking day?

His phone loaded up the Variety article, with the headline:

In Bloom members living Vicariously through their co-headliner.

Scrolling down, Rob could see the newest image of Jane and Andy together, but even more was to come. Below, several more images appeared; these, with himself in them.

First, and image of him and Zoe out on the park bench, yelling to each other. The day they had broken things off.

Next, an image of Rob confronting the fan outside of the bus a few days ago. The image was less than flattering—with Rob waving his hand as her as the fan was taken away, screaming.

Than, a picture of Aaron helping Rob into the bus after his drunken night. Rob looked kneeled over in this photo, mid-vomit, for all the world to see.

The article was even more damning—a long piece on the ballad of Rob and Jane. About how Jane was living it up with Andy while Zoe supposedly dumped Rob, leaving him in a downward spiral.

Suddenly, a new text message popped up on screen.

10:25AM, Zoe: We need to talk about this.

Rob watched as the messaged again, and stared blankly at his screen. The entire ride back, neither member said a word. Once the cab had parked, Rob exited and walked directly away from the busses. From the venue, and from anything else that threatened to make this any worse.

He had made his way down an alleyway close-by, heading Austin’s footsteps following. Soon, as he was passing a pile of garbage near a dumpster, he felt Austin’s hand atop his shoulder.

“Rob—“ Austin managed to get out.

Finally, Rob snapped.

”FUCK!” Rob roared, and immediately slammed his fist over and down into the nearest trash bag. It exploded on impact.

”Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” he roared, over and over again. He continued to beat the ever-loving shit out of the garbage in front of him. Soon enough, he punched his was through a glass bottle with his left hand, and immediately saw blood pouring from his arm. He grabbed it with his free arm, slamming his back against the wall and sliding down it, sitting on the asphalt.

Austin approached after a moment—silently tearing the bottom off of his old My Morning Jacket shirt and tying it around Rob’s bleeding wrist.

”Hey,” Austin said forcefully, locking eyes with Rob. ”Breathe. You need to breathe, man.”

Rob nodded, but said nothing. In his mind, everything he, Andy, Jane, and Zoe had done was now public to the world.

And for the most past, a lot of that was true.

“Seriously, dude,” Austin said. “We can discuss this later. But you need stitches. Now.”

—

Thirty minutes passed quickly enough, and Rob watched as the doctor loaded the last of the stitches into his forearm. Twelve in total.

“It was a clean cut,” the doctor said in a heavy accent. “It should heal quickly enough. We’ll give you a shot of antibiotics, just in case.”

“Can I play tonight?” Rob muttered through clenched teeth.

“I don’t recommend it,” he said. “Not at all. But…you should be able too. It did not cut any serious muscles for your wrist.”

“Thank god,” Austin muttered from his chair in the corner. The doctor soon excused himself and stepped out of the room once he finished.

“Any word from the others?” Rob managed to ask. The stitches had certainly taken the edge off of his anger, but he still didn’t dare look at the phone burning a hole in his pocket. He had felt it vibrate multiple times, but couldn’t bring himself to look at it.

“Harold’s still assembling a game plan,” he said. “He still wants us to play but we’re instructed not to breathe a word about anything. Just play the set and leave. He’s not happy.”

“Vicarious?” Rob asked.

“I think they’re pulling out for tonight,” he said. “But I’m not sure. Harold can’t even reach them. It’s pretty much….pretty much on us to get in touch with them.”

Rob nodded, his head nearly pulsing from the stress. All he wanted right now was to be away from all of this. But…not quite completely.

He wanted to be with Jane. He couldn’t quite explain it. He wasn’t exactly happy with her—in fact, he wasn’t sure if he was really angry at her or not. But all he wanted was to be with her.

All he wanted more than anything right here, right now, was just to be with Jane.

It was what drove him to leave the hospital, picking up a cab and riding with Austin back to the lot.

It was was drove him to suck up the courage to open the door into the tour bus.

And as he did so, he had no idea how he was about to react to any of it.

He wasn’t sure how he felt about Jane’s continued fling with Andy, or the press release about it. Or how the press seemed to think Zoe had cut ties with him, instead of the reality of it being the other way around. Or how he felt about going one more day on this insane, bat-shit crazy tour.

He had no idea what he was going to say. Or who he was going to be angry at. Or who he was going to forgive.

He had no idea at all.

In Bloom [HangYourSecrets x megatrash] [18+]

Two Days Later…

Vienna was a gorgeous city.

They had arrived here late that previous evening, just in time to see the sky paint the white buildings in a thick glow, before fading completely. Now that light had returned with the new day, the whites and reds of the city seemed even more vibrant than before.

Rob had watched from the bus window as security escorted their’s and Vicarious’ bus behind the venue, locking two large gates behind them. It was curious, that the security seemed so much more real to him now. Whether that was due to the incident a few days ago, or simply due to the city, he wasn’t really sure.

This morning, Rob stood alone in the bathroom sometime around six-thirty. He was first up, not being able to sleep much longer. He looked at his reflection, and for the first time in a while, wasn’t disappointed in what looked back at him.

Things had greatly improved in simply two days. Rob had spent every moment of those two days back with In Bloom, either hanging out with the other guys, or spending the quiet evenings with Jane. There was a familiar normality that had settled in so quickly between then. Almost as if the two had allowed themselves to return to the way things had used to be, without sacrificing what had already happen. Sure, tons of things remained to be seen or answered; Vicarious, for instance, was a huge question mark. Jane’s relation specifically to Andy worried him if he thought too much about it, but he tried not to. He had the confidence in Jane not to worry too much about when she left alone, and filled his time with the other band members to help ease his own anxieties.

His curbside confessional had left him feeling much more at ease in the current situation, even though something felt off. Nothing on this tour remained for long. Each event seemed to carry into the next—each rise followed by it’s own fall. Their own celebrity, for instance, continued to grow. Harold had talked about it a bit on a phone call the two had together—about how the single had switched from underground to mainstream alternative radio stations. About how, when it came to fame, it only multiplied itself. “Fame is it’s own catalyst,” Harold said. Rob was sure he was quoting someone, but he had no idea who. Harold, no doubt, was enjoying his own connection to the band stateside, so had likely surrounded himself with others of his own ilk. He had already hinted at such a thing a few days ago, when he talked about hiring on a second hand to help with their already momentous finances.

In short, the band seemed to be getting money hand-over-fist, which wasn’t exactly a good thing. Rob had already had two extended family members call his number asking about funding on personal projects, and about a dozen more sending him messages over social media. The entirety of that concept through Rob off alone, even if he could afford to help them out. The truth was, Rob wasn’t sure exactly how much they had earned. Harold was constantly vague about it. Last he heard, it was “somewhere near six figures” for each of the band members, depending on how the last stretch of the American tour went once they finished in Europe.

The European tour, at least, seemed to be wrapping up into a climactic end. They had little over two weeks or so left—enough time to work their way over to Italy, then through to Spain, before sharply cutting upwards, through France and finishing in the United Kingdom. Afterwards, it was stateside again.

The prospect of leaving Europe came with mixed feelings—Rob felt both in tune with what was happening, and simultaneously separated from the worst of things. The small connection the band had formed with their fans over social media—and specifically their personal Instagram accounts—was shockingly huge. He could only wonder what would happen once they returned. But a small part of him was happy that Vicarious would be going their separate ways from them at the end of this. Too much bad blood was forming; yet another of the many things Rob feared would turn sour. That, and the feeling he got that the media was yet to be done with him.

Soon, a knock came at the door, interrupting his mental tangent. He opened it to find Austin at the other end. His eyes were nearly shut from sleep, and he looked far less aware than Rob was at the current surroundings. Well, at least he was awake. The two of them had booked an early morning radio interview that they needed to be at in about thirty minutes.

“Done jerking off in there?” Austin muttered in his usual sarcasm. “I need to shower.”

“Yeah,” Rob said, getting out of the way. He went and waited in the main living room of the bus, and turned on some music as he waited. Linus Spacehead by Wavves played on in the background, reminding him of the days he and Austin sat around at his place, smoking and talking about anything and everything. Soon enough, Austin came back outside, and the two got in a cab and made their way to the radio station.

On the way, the architecture of the buildings surrounding them was hard to ignore. Each structure around them seemed so intricately crafted, so completely made, it was hard not to admire it. The cab ride was mostly silent, save for a few questions from their driver.

Finally, the two arrived, and sat down with nice enough seeming girl, Madeline, who welcomed them warmly before starting up the interview.

Madeline: Hello and welcome back to Vienna’s number one choice for alternative! In the studio today, we’ve been lucky enough to get the newest band on the scene, In Boom! Here representing the band is bassist Austin Hull and drummer Rob Pennie. How’s the road been, boys?

Rob: Long. Hard. But mostly just surreal.

Austin: It’s definitely a lifestyle change.

Madeline: I can believe it. In Bloom was the biggest band of the summer, and now that we’re moving into fall, it seems like you’re not stopping anytime soon.

Rob: We’re touring through the rest of Europe, then back over to the Americans that missed us.

Austin: Pretty much everyone’s had a chance to see us. At least on this side of the world.

Madeline: The tour seems to have had some stressful and highly profile events taking place. Could you talk about that?

Rob: [laughs] I’m assuming you’re referring to me.

Madeline: Amongst other things, but sure.

Rob: Look, I mean—we’re just trying to get our heads on straight after our world blew up. It’s been long and mistakes were made. I’m not going to condone all the shit we’ve pulled during this run, but I think overall, it’s been pretty great.

Austin: Listening to Rob blow up is basically comical when you get to know him. Fucker just sits around and thinks the whole time. We can’t ever get him to leave the tour bus!

Madeline: Fair enough, fair enough! Typically the rhythm section gets much less press than you both have had. For example, Vicarious, your supporting act.

Rob: We’re co-headlining this tour.

Madeline: I’m sure, but to be honest, it doesn’t seem to be that way. At least, not here in Vienna. All the posters have In Bloom listed as the headliner.

Austin: I’m sure Vicarious would be pissed about that. But usually, we’re all too strung out on the road to care.

Madeline: Let’s chat about Vicarious for a second. There’s been some interesting stuff going around between the relationship, or, relationships, between your two bands. Care to comment?

Rob: It’s a tour. We see each other so much, it can hurt. But there’s really not much to talk about. We’re all pretty good friends at this point.

—

Soon enough, the interview moved to a few lighter topics, and wrapped up after another ten minutes.

Afterwards, Madeline shook both of their hands and walked with them to the front steps of the building.

“Just a head’s up,” she said. “Word’s going around about something big breaking about In Bloom. I don’t like to fuck up interviews with rumors but…just be aware.”

Rob shot her a quizzical look. “Thanks?” He nearly asked.

“Keep a lower profile,” she said. “That’s all I’m saying. Have a good one.”

She turned quickly and disappeared back into her studio, leaving Rob and Austin to their own devices.

“The fuck was up with that?” Austin asked moments later.

Rob wasn’t sure, but it sure did worry him. There was definitely enough substance to spread rumors about. But until he figured out exactly what was going on with Jane and Andy, he didn’t feel like interfering. He had cut off his ties on his own. Jane and Rob had only just mended things. Perhaps it was best to let her sort it out.

Rob stood on the curb with Austin, waiting for the cab with the two security guards the studio was kind enough to offer up. At this point, he had had more than enough fame for one day. The only thing he wanted was to get back on the bus and spend the day with Jane. In fact, after the confession, it’s pretty much all he wanted to do. 

Hopefully she’d be there. Hopefully, whatever Madeline was off about didn’t matter.

They just needed to finish this damn tour.

In Bloom [HangYourSecrets x megatrash] [18+]

Rob found himself on the venue stage, eyes locked onto the lugs in front of him, working tirelessly to tune each head with his drum key. His perfectionist tendencies were kicking in, and the stresses of the road were causing him to erratically work on each head much longer than necessary.

Finally, a roadie came on his monitor: ”You’re good man. We need to start.”

The voice shook Rob, who looked up to see a dark figure looking at him from stage right. He gave a curt thumbs up, and looked forward.

Jane was already here.

Her figure was accentuated by the lights beaming down on her, obscuring the audience from view. It was a familiar sight—as drummer, he had rarely seen the faces of the audience. Neither their excitement of anticipation nor their rapture from hearing their favorite song was known to Rob. He was simply a timepiece—the pulsing beat from which the band derived it’s own spirit.

It was something he was so satisfied with and yet, never quite content about. He thought of the night he had spent in a hotel back in the states, tirelessly working on a solo song on his acoustic guitar. The same guitar that sat in the bus’s storage, collecting dust.

Missed chances and wasted time.

He watched in front of him as Jane cued in Sam, and his guitar rang out to thunderous applause. Rob waited several seconds, before hitting his drumsticks together four times in beat, and the band was off again.

It all faded together so quickly.

—

Afterwards, Rob fiddled with his drum set again. Why wasn’t the damn snare in tune? He already fucked with the resonant head like three times. Three half-steps lower. It should’ve been perfect.

He wasn’t even sure why he was fiddling with the tuning. The crowd in front of him was milling about with themselves, discussing and waiting for Vicarious, which stood just off the side of the stage. The roadies continuously begged for Rob to get off the stage, but he paid them no attention.

The other members of In Bloom had already excused themselves, talking amongst themselves somewhere else, assuredly. It just needed to be right. For once, something in his life he could control just needed to be right—

“Rob, seriously,” a voice came on his monitor. This time, it wasn’t a roadie.

It was Zoe.

”You gotta clear the stage, man.”

Rob’s eyes shot up to stage left, where he could see Zoe’s small form standing off near Trent and Andy—one hand to her chin and the other pressing the “talk” button on her headset.

Something about the way she had spoken had cut straight through Rob’s guard. Her voice was ripe with hurt and pain, and solace as well. Although their lives had broken apart, the bond they had formed over the past few weeks was still fresh. The schism between them seemed acknoledged by her for the first time.

Rob nodded slightly to her. He knew that he couldn’t comfort her, but he certainly empathized with her.

Rob made off to stage right when Jane quickly caught his gaze—pulling him immediately to the exit. Before he had time to make sense of all that had transpired, she buried her face to him, and cried.

”Shit, Rob muttered involuntarily. He had frozen, but soon moved his arms around Jane in an instinctual embrace. He felt her small frame convulse in his, and couldn’t help but feel nearly emotional at the display before him.

They haven’t spoken to each other, truly, since before she had met with Zoe. What was in actuality a few days at best seemed more like a small eternity. So many things had happened in the preceding time. He could only wonder how much more would happen.

She suddenly moved back from him, pacing and talking in a rapid tone about his Ambien usage. He could not begin to respond, before she confronted him with the question on both of their minds:

“How much of the conversation do you remember?”

Rob’s mind froze immediately. The haze he had been in for the past several hours, the rush of the show and how hard he had been trying not to think about this moment—this exact moment, had all come to a complete stop.

Out here, the air was chilly and sharp; Rob could feel the cool air striking the sweat on his brow and his body, giving him the illusion of this cold sweat. Jane’s eyes stared into his with an emotive weakness he had not seen in a very long time—perhaps, since their last confessional together.

They had fallen into this vicious cycle of miscommunication and possibly, mistrust. They would admit to each other that they wanted to continue on, and would go back to their old ways—suppressing and ignoring their greater feelings.

Perhaps that’s why Rob felt so frozen in this moment.

Because the cyclical nature of their relationship could end here. If he could finally tell her the truth—not some psuedo-honest bullshit about how much me cared, but the full and complete truth—maybe something would be different. Maybe they could finally break out of this cycle.

Their world was getting more and more confusing. Jane’s relationship with Andy was a huge question mark for Rob. His own relationship with Zoe, slightly less so. The tremulous relationship with Vicarious would only get worse, or so it felt, and the tour seemed to stretch on indefinitely. He had so quickly forgotten that Europe was not the end of the tour. Once they finished in England, it would be back to the states to tour the cities they had missed and even one’s they hadn’t. If Rob was getting ambushed at his own bus here in Europe, how bad would they be off once they returned to the states? Could they even leave the bus again?

And yet, when it was all thought of and all said and done, there was little more that mattered to Rob than the person in front of him right now. This insecure, wild young woman was both the cause and effect—the reason he woke up and the reason he managed to fuck everything up. And maybe—just maybe, if she knew that—perhaps the world would be a bit less confusing.

“I remember that I fucked up,” Rob said quietly; his hands in his pockets and his eyes diverted down to his shoes. He could already feel the vulnerability of the coming moment, but pushed through; “I remember wanting to sedate myself because I didn’t want to think about how I felt. How seeing what I did made me feel. And I always wonder that if I could just stop worrying—just stop being so anxious and scatterbrained and actually just live in the moment—then maybe shit like that wouldn’t bother me. If I could just be like you—”

Rob looked back up. “But that’s not me. I’m not you. And it’s not a good thing and it’s not a bad thing and it’s not anything in between. It’s just differences. I can’t live my life day by day. I can’t go on that stage and act as if nothing is wrong. And I can’t be in a relationship with anyone else without forming some sort of connection. And I envy your spirit and your mind, but it’s not me. And I’m starting to realize that that’s ok.”

Rob took a step forward, holding Jane’s arms. “We may not seem compatible to other people. You may seem like the wild card and me the straight arrow, but I wouldn’t want it any other way. We don’t have to change who we are to be what we can be. Because I’ll tell you now what I told you then—“

Rob couldn’t help but cut himself off, caressing Jane’s face on either side, and moving in to kiss her. His senses were heightened to the extreme—every strand of hair that passed his hands and every touch he felt from her all cumulated into the following:

”I love you, Jane.” Rob whispered as he pulled away from her. He said it again: ”I love you.”

He pulled in close again, and their lips reconnected.

And somehow, the frigid air of the coming winter seemed warmer than before—if only for a moment.

In Bloom [HangYourSecrets x megatrash] [18+]

Rob was fast asleep, but the sharp grip of the drugs in his body forced his mind to be active once again. He recalled a memory of his coming of age; his trip across the country, taking him to Kalispell, Montana.

—

“What’s your age again?” The woman behind the front desk asked. Her thick accent, on top of the strangeness of the situation, made Rob anxious. She was the first person he had really spoken to in several days. He could feel the bags under his eyes—the desperate need for his body to rest. It felt like so long since he had told his mother he would be leaving for a while, and took his car on a road trip with no stops, no breaks, and no real sleep. Besides a brief stint in Colorado at the gas station and another in a South Dakota parking lot, Rob had not slept.

“I’m nineteen,” he answered truthfully.

The woman rolled her eyes. She produced a key that had seen better days. “You’re in room 106,” she said. “Ice machine is down the outside hall. There’s a vending machine, too, if you need something. All the local shops are closed until morning, though.”

Rob nodded. “Thanks,” he muttered to her. He moved his car from the front to the side of the small building, near his room. In the cold Montana air he moved a single bag of luggage into the small room.

The carpet was green, and the entire room smelt like it hadn’t had a decent wash since the 90s. The comforter was a horrendous, purple-red quilted pattern, and the furniture was all red-tinted wood.

Rob pulled out a couple bottles of beer he had smuggled from his parents house before leaving, and set them on the table. He moved back outside with the ice bucket, and found the hallway the front counter worker was talking about. He shivered in his t-shirt and shorts as he waited for the ice to slowly pour from the machine. He would’ve packed warmer clothes if he had known how far he would travel. But each exit that passed, each state line, just drove him to keep going. To just keep driving. To get away.

“You’re not from here, are you?” A voice said from behind him. Rob turned to see a brunette woman with one hand on her hip and the other clasping her own ice bucket. She seemed about his age or so; with deep, almost wrinkled bags under her eyes and a face full of freckles.

“If I was, I wouldn’t be here,” Rob said flat. He scratched at the patchy stubble across his chin, before turning back around.

“I’m from Kentucky, myself,” she said. “Heard about some cool mountain trails up here. Real desolate. Brought some psychedelics with me to see the sunrise while tripping. Heard it’s really something special. You use?”

Rob was surprised at her forwardness, but answered: “Not usually. I’m from California. I’ve heard that’s more of an eastern thing.”

“Ah,” she said. “Cali. So you do pot.”

Rob nodded. His ice finished filling his bucket, and he turned to leave.

“Got any beers to go with that ice?” She asked, her head tilting to once side with a smirk.

Rob paused for a moment. He was so far from home. Was this really worth doing?

Under typical circumstances, a random hookup was not Rob’s idea of a good time. He had never enjoyed the few times he had done it, and having Hayden in the back of his mind was not helping. It really hadn’t been very long since then.

But this really wasn’t a normal circumstance.

“Yeah,” he said. “But I don’t know if you’ll like it.”

—

Three hours later, he and the girl passed a joint back and forth as they lay in bed beside each other. Both were naked, but things had happened so fast, neither had even made it under the covers.

“I still can’t believe you did that,” she said, looking down at the tattoos which sprawled across her naked form. “Like, holy shit. Three days in a car. What did you do when you needed to shit?”

Rob shrugged. “Pull over.”

The girl seemed to think, then laugh. “I knew Montana would be a blast. There’s nothing to do up here but look at things and fuck.”

She climbed out of the bed, passing the joint back to Rob, then put her clothes on.


“I’d sleep here, but,” she started, “I did already book my room.”

Rob laughed. “Good night, then.”

“Good night.”

The girl closed the door, leaving Rob in the silence of the room once more.

As an hour passed, the silence was growing quickly from cathartic to suffocating. The emotions Rob had ignored soon came sweeping back to him; his abandonment of home, his city, his state. He felt so cliche, having ran like this. It wasn’t as if he ever intended to run away from home forever, but everything was just too strong at home. The suffocation that he had felt so strongly at home had seemed to follow him here. No matter how far he would run, it always seemed like these feelings would follow him here.

He finally decided to pull out his phone, scrolling down to his contacts and finding the person he was looking for: 
Austin.

The phone rang twice before a familiar voice caught on:

“Where the fuck are you?”

Rob let out a small sigh. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“Try me.”

“…Montana.”

“Alright, alright,” Austin said, half-joking-half-livid. “You’re right. I don’t believe you.”

“…look,” Rob began, “Things got crazy at home. I just needed to get away for a while.”

“Rob, normal people go for walks on the beach when they need to get away. Maybe go visit their favorite shop in town. They don’t drive to fucking Montana.”

“I’m not…” Rob started, pinching his nose and trying to think straight. The haze of the high had fogged his thinking. “I’m not trying to freak anyone out. I just started driving. I wasn’t paying attention. All I wanted to do was keep going.”

“Well, mission success then,” Austin’s cold sarcasm came through. “You’ve got Jane fucking worried sick. She’s here right now. Want to tell her where you are?”

“No, I don’t, look, just—“ Rob started, but it was too late. He could hear the phone being passed, and a soft, sigh seemed to come from the other end.

Pissing off Austin was one thing. Rob seemed to do it every so often, usually due to miscommunication or his constant need to perfect the few songs they had created together. But he had always hated to piss off Jane. Even in the short time he had known her…she was the only one he really respected. Actually cared for. Something he couldn’t even claim about his father.

“Hey, J…” Rob breathed out. “Before you talk, I’m fine. I’m staying at a hotel. Tomorrow I’m turning around and heading back.”

Silence on the other end. Rob continued:

“I never meant to hurt anyone’s feelings or make anyone worry about me. Plus, I know you’re just trying to graduate and I didn’t want to bother you with this. Or…maybe I did want to. I just didn’t think I should.”

The breathing on the other end of the line was the only signification that he was speaking to her.

“I’m not honest with you because I’m not honest with myself. I know that’s fucked up, but it’s who I am right now. Hopefully one day that changes. I just…I just hope there’s better shit in bloom for us soon.”

Amidst it all, Rob couldn’t help but laugh slightly at his own choice of words.

In Bloom.

The fuck did that mean?

—

Rob’s eyes slowly drew open as he felt another figure move beside him. Where was he again? The blurred memories of the night and mornings before he had taken those dreadful pills all seemed like some hazy memory, to the point where he couldn’t tell if he was still dreaming or not. Had this happened before?

Slowly, the memories came back to him as he felt lips against his skin. He was on a tour bus. He was in Europe. He had traveled this far with his three friends from Long Beach. He didn’t know how much farther they would go.

His eyes opened to see Jane’s own eyes in front of him. “I wanna pick up where we left earlier and talk, but not right now.”

What did she mean by that?

Rob’s thoughts tried desperately to decipher where they had left off. Had they talked recently? Surely. Rob could remember nights on rooftops and nights in this cot, where the two of them had talked about about themselves…each other…

Wait. It was coming back.

As soon as Jane’s lips pressed against Rob’s he remembered.

He loved her.

His body fully awakened, pulled Jane closer to him. He loved her. It was all he could think about. All he wanted to do was show her. Without saying a word, without even another thought, this was all he wanted to do.

—

Afterwards, Rob found himself more at peace than any time he could remember. He laid on his back, with Jane resting atop him, holding her and feeling her breath against his. All of his restless thoughts had long since faded, and he simply wanted to be here. Whether it was his own epiphany or simply the effects of the drugs in his system, he was no longer sure. He no longer cared, either.

Soon, the moment faded, and Jane had left once again. She had just begun to speak, but something had taken her away from him. She told him it was for drinks with Austin and Andy. She smiled, had taken his hand, and was away again before Rob could think of another word to say.

it had all happened so fast.

—

Another hour passed, and Rob found himself sitting on the tour bus’ couch, drinking his third cup of coffee. The final waves of his terrible mistake had washed over him and left him out to dry once again. He felt sober-minded for the first time in…he wasn’t sure how long.

The bus was quiet, for once. It seemed that at least one of their crew was walking around at all times—a constant movement and reminder of where they were, and what they were doing. But now, in this empty room, with just the gentle hum of the car conditioning unit and the music, things felt finally normal.

Behind him, Pale Black Eye by Manchester Orchestra played on in the background, while he tapped a foot along to the beat.

Did he want to meet with the others for drinks? It had seemed so soon, too soon to meet back with Jane after what had been said. Rob could easily sense that it was something she was thinking about. From the passionate love to trying to discuss it before leaving, Rob knew this needed to be addressed.

And he sure as hell wanted it to be. After all that had happened—all that the two had been through, could they not just sit down and tell each other the truth? That they loved each other? Going out for drinks after that just felt…disingenuous, he supposed.

The serenity was interrupted soon before he could finish his thoughts—a knock had come at the door. Rob stood up, and moved to open it.

Outside stood a woman around or younger Rob’s age; she had sharp fiery bangs that just touched the rim of her glasses. She wore a lethal smile, a long t-shirt the band had been selling this tour, and little else. Out of the corner of his eye he could see a burly man make his way out of the venue and approach them.

“Hi!” The girl said before Rob could do much more than look. She held out a hand, and spoke fast. “I’m Jamie. I’m so sorry for barging in like this, but I just saw the tour bus, and I couldn’t help but—“

“Hey!” the security guard shouted at them, now within earshot. Jamie looked up to Rob with pleading eyes.

“I really don’t—“ Rob started, but he just didn’t have it in him. One moment, he had been sitting and drinking coffee. The next, ambushed by a fan. He just needed more time to process…

“It’s ok,” Rob finally said to the guard, who seemed more annoyed than anything, and turned back to the venue.

“Thank you, thank you!” Jamie beamed. “You won’t regret it, I promise.”

The fan whipped out the band’s most recent record from her large purse, and held a permanent marker out to sign it. “I’d ask for the other members to come out,” she mused, “but to be honest, it’s your signature I’m after.”

“You’d be out of luck,” Rob said comfortably. “They aren’t here.”

Jamie waited until Rob finished signing the record before speaking again, slipping it back into her purse. “Bucharest’s a big place. Tons to do here.”

“I’m sure,” Rob said, grabbing the door. “Well, I hope to see you out at the show tonight—“

“Oh, I’m sorry!” Jamie cut off again. She seemed antsy, and quite forward. “I just thought—oh, this is so bad of me—that maybe, if you wanted…I could stay a while, you know? Just for a bit.”

Rob tried hard to clearly understand what Jamie had been saying to him. Allowing his eyes to drift upwards, he noticed two or three people standing on the other side of the fence separating the busses from the main street. One of them held a DSLR aimed directly towards them.

Where had all of this come from? It had all seemed so sudden.

“I’m sorry,” Rob said, “I’m just a bit busy with something. After the show, we typically stay around to chat—“

“Oh, it doesn’t have to be long,” Jamie said, her smile shifting to more of a playful smirk. “I’m not here to take any more time than you’d need. I’m sure you’ll get back to your stuff afterwards.”

Was she really asking him for this? Perhaps he had been much more oblivious to this side of touring, or maybe he had simply not cared before. Either way, Rob felt increasingly more uncomfortable with the whole ordeal—including the camera aimed at the two of them.

“I’m afraid I’m just not interested,” Rob said, slipping more and more into the bus. His eyes locked with the security guard by the venue, and he began making his trek back over to them. “I hope you enjoy the show.”

“Wait,” Jamie started. “You don’t think…you thought I was going to fuck you?”

All of the sensuality in her voice was replaced with a sharp, fake rage. She rushed the door, pushing against it as Rob tried to hold it shut. Jesus, she was really going for it…

“What the fuck do you think I am? I come all the way out here, I buy tickets—“

By then the security guard grabbed at Jamie’s shoulders, and she tried to wrench free, to no avail. The man was a brute.

Rob closed and locked the door immediately after, but could hear her muffled screams and yells for almost a minute until she had been taken far enough away. Rob peered out the window to see the three people, now all with cameras in hand, snapping photos directly at both the bus and the “fan” as she was led away.

—

Twenty minutes passed, and Rob could clearly see the images on a few local “news” sites. First those of the two talking, then the violent outburst that quickly followed.

Any desire of his to leave the room was so quickly faded after the incident. His life and his prestige had shown it’s ugly side, and he was surprised, after thinking on it, that it hadn’t happened sooner. He couldn’t help but wonder at the entire event—whether or not Jamie was involved with the photographers. Or if Jamie was even “Jamie” at all.

Rob pulled out his phone, and shot a text over to Jane:

7:02 PM, Rob: Some deranged fan ambushed me at the tour bus. Not really feeling up for drinks.

He closed the phone, thought for a moment, then sent again:

7:04 PM, Rob: Hope we get a chance to talk soon.

Between the fan interaction, the drug-induced memories, and all that he had been through, Rob was growing tired of being here with his own thoughts. Especially knowing that the confession of love on his part would not go unspoken.

He felt surrounded on all sides. The fame they had amassed was now growing much more sinister than before. How much longer could they venture the cities on their own? If it was this bad in Europe, how would it be in America?

Feeling paranoid, Rob pulled out the phone number sent to him from Harold for the venue, and requested a security escort into the building.

Soon, two men arrived at the door, and Rob followed them idly across the concrete and towards the venue. His head remained down and his eyes behind sunglasses as he felt the flash of lights to his right, on the main road. The line for the show had already grown what seemed to be a quarter mile long.

Soon enough, he made it inside the building and made it to the waiting room. He sat down, pulling a handful of chips from the table’s bowl, and absentmindedly ate in the silence.

He could see outside the door from his perspective, which seemed to lead straight to the stage. In Bloom was up first this night, but Rob could see Trent already working on some of his drum equipment, back facing to him. Soon, Zoe’s form passed by, tuning her strings. She looked inside the room and briefly made eye contact with Rob, before quickly slipping out of view.

Rob could almost feel himself roll his eyes at the thought. How was Zoe holding up after the fallout? How was Vicarious doing as a whole? Sure, he could ask Jane, but how would that conversation go? How were they going to explain and comfort each other after all that shit? How the fuck were they ever going to get alone together again?

“Fuck,” Rob muttered under his breath.

So many questions. So many fucking questions.

In Bloom [HangYourSecrets x megatrash] [18+]

“I can’t…” Rob muttered, clutching his head. “I can’t think straight, J.”

The difficulty of staying lucid in his current state was weighing heavily on Rob. The finer details of his vision faded…ebbing and flowing in waves of detail and haze. His hearing suffered strongly, and each passing moment, he wanted to be a sleep, more and more.

His face was hot and wet with tears. The bags under his eyes grew an ugly dark grey, and the veins near his eyes look more alike a fifty year old than someone half that age.

Flash images of the past flipped by him as he tried desperately to listen to what Jane was saying. Words she said, the feelings she emoted, were all reminding him of the past. The time they were together. The years they had spent in each others company.

He remembered the times he had awoken in her room—their bodies intertwined across the messy clothes that seemed to never find drawers. The way they’d playfully recoil from each other as they awoke. The soft feel of her skin never quite making it’s way away from Rob’s memory.

He remembered the long night drives during their tour in California years ago—their first inkling of success and of fame. The way she’d rest her head on his shoulder as Austin took them and Sam up to the far reaches of Northern California, and all the way back down to Long Beach. To home.

And seeing her tear-stricken face now reminded him of a night spent in silence and sorrow. The nights following the loss of Jane’s mother. The empty, hollow rage Rob felt for being so helpless to protect Jane from the tidal wave of her own grief.

All of these images flashed through his mind with those of the tour. His genuine smile before their first gig. The thought that they were finally in a rock band. Finally working together to make something great from their own individual skills. Being free from the mundane, the normal, and mediocre entirely. The rhapsody of his and Jane’s first few days as a couple. All of it.

Then the bad flowed in as well. The suffering he had caused her. The guilt that ate at him each day for doing so. The remorse for his relationship with Zoe, and all of the pain that had caused him as well. Each and every action he had committed when he realized the extent of them benefited him none. All of them taken for Jane’s sake. To be with Jane. And even the now-recent pain of separating from Zoe was nothing in comparison to loosing Jane. The one he took for granted.

If he had to suffer that moment with Zoe on the park bench over again to fix this shit with Jane, he would do it in a heartbeat. In a moment. If he had to relive his night in the hotel room with Anna again, he would. The one-night stand with Adrianna. The cocaine-fueled night with Mia. Even the relationship with Hayden that had catalyzed his own mental enigmatic attitude…he would do it again.

Because he loved her.

He fucking loved her. How had it even taken him this long to realize? How could he had waited until it all seemed so pointless to finally come to terms with the fact that he loved her?

His vision seemed to be fading fast. The morning—even the start of their conversation was beginning to blur. He had to find a way to tell her. Even if he risked never remembering this moment.

His eyes closed and opened, locking onto hers.

“I love you,” he whispered out. “Why the fuck did I take this long to say it?”

His head slowly rested back down, and he was out cold.