Rob felt as Jane came outside next to him, and silently offered the cigarette she had requested. “It’s alright,” he croaked out after she apologized for being on the couch. She continued on, clearly stressed, and tried her best to say what she had to say with a clear conscience. He couldn’t fault her for that. But her cause of concern was on all the wrong things. How could she think things were about the [i]single[/i] anymore? As if it was the single that had made him feel this way. Somehow through his actions, she seemed to think he hated her. That he was distant to her. And while that was true for now, it was only a fleeting moment; a passing haze while Rob tried to hard to decide for himself what it was he wanted. And a part of him knew that it was cruel for him to act in this manner. He had heard the complaints hundreds of times from friends and family. [i]You’re distant, Rob. You’re so…cold. I never know who I’m talking to…[/i] The list would go on into infinity if he had let it. A lifetime of being told to express his feelings had left him in purgatory, unsure of whether to act against his own nature to please the masses and lie to himself, or prove them right by just being who he had always been. It was a big fucking mess and things weren’t easy to fix. In this moment, Rob chose to be true to himself, and let Jane clear her thoughts of him before turning away from him, her last words stinging as they struck him. She seemed to have a habit of saying her peace and leaving, uninterested in the response. Either that, or Rob seemed to have a habit of refusing to chase people down. To tell them what he had ever meant. As he turned inside, he dressed himself and loaded his stuff into the car, quietly sitting in the backseat and putting earbuds in, hoping the others wouldn’t bother him. For once he was choosing not to so much as talk anymore, and just wanted to be alone. [i]Was it so much to ask for? To be alone? Never once would anyone let him be himself. Just let him fucking [b]think.[/b][/i] [hr] [i]2:29, Rob:[/i] [b]How’s Dallas?[/b] [i]2:41, Anna:[/i] [b]Much more boring without the other bands here. We got a head start but nothing to do now that we’re here.[/b] [i]2:42, Rob:[/i] [b]Well THAT wasn’t subtle.[/b] [i]2:45, Anna:[/i] [b]Being subtle never got me anywhere. It certainly wouldn’t have gotten me this far.[/b] [i]2:47, Rob:[/i] [b]What time does Vulture go on?[/b] [i]2:49, Anna:[/i] [b]9. Right after your set at 8. What are you doing after?[/b] [i]2:52, Rob:[/i] [b]I dunno yet. Most likely crashing somewhere in town.[/b] [i]2:55, Anna:[/i] [b]Vulture doesn’t leave Dallas until tomorrow afternoon…[/b] [i]2:59, Rob:[/i] [b]I’ll be in touch.[/b] [hr] After another few hours, Sam’s father called Rob, of all people. He was an accountant, and tended to the bands finances in his spare time since none of them had been any good with the money. Normally, Harold (or Hard-ass, as he was sometimes called) had bad news, told them to stop spending anything, or that they couldn’t have a certain thing. Today, he was actually much [i]cheerier[/i] than usual. “Look, Sam won’t answer his phone—“ He said on the other side of the phone, “but your streaming numbers for the album is through the roof.” “Like what, a couple thousand?” Rob asked. “Like, seven [i]hundred[/i] thousand on the single alone.” “Excuse me?” “Another fifty thousand on each song on the record and counting. Internet sales, CD orders—all of it’s through the roof. Either its the song, or the tour, or both, but we’ve more than paid off the loan I took out for the tour. Check your email.” In Rob’s inbox, four confirmation emails came through for a hotel. 
“Think of it as a celebratory gift,” he said. “I wanted to just do two rooms but…Sam called me earlier today. Said there were issues?” “…yeah.” “Well get some time away from everyone, get some rest, and fix it. Now isn’t the time to mess this up.” [hr] News of the sales numbers spread quickly, and for the most part, everyone seemed excited. The mood in the van was…good, and aside from the obvious silence between Jane and Rob, the rest of the journey had gone off without a hitch. Hotel check-in was even easier, but the group barely had time to set their things down before they needed to load back up and head to the festival for load in. “I’m sorry,” he managed to cough out to Jane, once he had a moment alone with her in the madness. “I’m not good with…I don’t know…[i]this.[/i] Being open. Being…vulnerable. It’s not me.” Rob scratched at his head. “You’re not annoying,” he continued. “And it’s not the single, and I’d like to believe we’re still friends and—and god…it’s such bullshit to say out loud, but it really [i]is[/i] me. I’m just kind of fucked up in the head right now.” He tried to grasp her shoulder, but it felt so…off. Unnatural. Like it wasn’t the way he wanted to touch her— “Rob!” a voice called out. Rob turned to see Sam, needing some help moving a box near the van. A way out of whatever awkwardness he was creating in front of Jane. God…he just felt so small in this moment. “I’ve gotta—“ he said, before motioning to Sam. Turning and clearly blushing, Rob ran off, leaving and quickly helping Sam. [i]If he could just get to tonight…if he could just get laid…if he could just sleep with someone other than Jane, to clear that godforsaken memory out of his head, holding her close to him—[/i] Maybe that’d fix things.