Rob sat at the edge of his bed in his hotel room. The room was silent. No TV, no music…just the unbearable headache building in Rob’s head, replacing the warm feelings of the alcohol that had came before. Two small, single bottles of cheap vodka were all that remained. They sat on the small table ahead of him, waiting to be had whenever Anna had made her way over here. His cell phone sat next to him; the last message sent simply being an address and his room number: [i]504.[/i] In the silence—the one Rob had fought for these past few days, the same one he had wanted all this time—as deafening him. Crushing him. It was like there was only this room, and only himself. As if there was a void outside that permeated on, into infinity. A knock came at the door, and Rob stood to his feet, making sure to smile as he walked forward and turned the handle. On the other side was Anna. Her bright eyes were the first thing he noticed. Her desires shown clear, though her dark irises; her lust. Sharp strands of clean blonde hair surrounded those eyes, one slipping downward, just brushing against her crimson lips. She wore a jet-black dress, tightly clinging to her body, accentuating every curve, heightening each of her features. Rob led her into the room, and took the last shot of vodka with her. The cool, visceral fuel poured down his throat, coating the last of his throat with its warmth. The vice, renewed and reinsured by the arrival of Anna, helped distort his reality. With her, the silence was no longer necessary. Rob pulled Anna close, but his something within him gave off one last attempt to delay what was to happen: “Did you want to do something, or—“ His sentence was cut off by a finger pressing against his lips. “Why wait?” Nodding, Rob slipped a hand above his head, and brushed back the stray hairs obstructing his field of vision. Anna pulled in close, dropping considerably in height as she let her black patent heels slip from her feet. Rob felt his own hands pulling into her head, first cupping against her jawline, then sliding into her hair, jostling it around, tangling their ends. His other hand slid around and downward, grasping the dresses zipper and pulling it down. Her dress fell off easily, crumpling to the floor. Next, is was her turn, slowly unbuttoning his white shirt, revealing his clear skin; his toned chest. Only in these moments of lust was he aware of his own features. The two itched closer to the bed, slowly but surely, until their knees struck the edge and they fell forward—collapsing onto the old bed. The loud protest of the box spring bounced throughout the room, shocked by the weight it had taken upon itself. The two continued, but even as they did, there was a creeping feeling; a slow fade. Like a Tsunami, all day it had receded, slowly, surely…but now…it was returning as it once left. Increasing, gradually, unmistakably, until it would eventually become too much to handle. And as hard as he tried, he could not keep these thoughts within him. They flowed out, consuming his physicality, effecting everything from his eye contact to his ability. Finally, it was Anna who chose to stop, sliding off from astride him, ending up at the foot of the bed. She crossed her arms across her chest, in what seemed to be shame. “Jesus, Rob,” she said, “can we at least [i]pretend[/i] she isn’t here?” Rob gave her a confused look, but he had waited too long to confront Anna on the nature of their relationship. The reason he had been so apt to choose her. Anna couldn’t wait another moment for him to respond. “Look, I’m not saying what we’re doing isn’t fucked up, but would you stop—stop [i]looking at me[/i] like I’m her!” “I don’t know what you—“ Rob started, but he regretted his pathetic string of words the moment they left his mouth. They fell limply on the floor, and were soon crushed by Anna’s immediate onslaught: “Don’t you [i]fucking[/i] patronize me! I’m just off-stage for [i]every[/i] show you do. I see the way you look at Jane. I know that look. I’m fine with being casual, believe me—but I’m not going to play surrogate for another woman.” “You’re not a surrogate,” Rob said, regaining some confidence. He sat up on the bed, but any renewed confidence wasn’t going to combat the inevitable. “I’m not stupid, Rob,” Anna sighed, softer than before. “I know I look like her. Both times we’ve…you always try to make me look [i]more[/i] like her. You fuck up my hair. You treat me like…I don’t know. I’m your bandmate, not a roadie.” After a moment, she started again. “I’m not going to get in the middle of you two. I’m not going to mess up whatever success you have or are going to have. But you need to sort yourself out, because what you’re doing here, is [i]fucked[/i] up, man.” Anna pushed herself up, picking up her black dress as she did, and began to slip it back on. Rob silently stood from the bed, pacing over to her and helping zip the dress back on her body. Anna put her shoes on, straightened out her hair, and slipped right out the door. Rob stared straight ahead at the door for a long moment after. He could always see through the peephole from this distance. It was black out there. Dark. As he pivoted in place and turned to the bathroom ahead, he stared dead into his own eyes as he approached. He no longer saw himself in this reflection. But another man. This man was distorted and ugly. His hair sprouted out in all directions, curling meaninglessly out to the sky, fraying at it’s ends. His dark eyes grew rings beneath them; sagging grey skin, beyond any hope of recovering. His beard remained unkempt and long. His arms extended far beyond what was normal. His chest, through his white shirt, grew hair in all the wrong places. He wasn’t a thing to love at all anymore. Each thing he had ever thought about himself seemed to be wrong. Everything he had ever felt before this one moment was all fucked up. It wasn’t even so much as an identity crisis. It was a self-realization. Each time he spoke, he lied. Each smile he gave, he faked. He had created an illusion of himself. A facade. Something he placed on each morning, and took off each night. And each of these ideas, each of his insecurities, each of his faults and fuck-ups, they all had metastasized. Manifested into one singular entity. Jane. [hr] Rob walked out to Jane’s hotel room in nothing but a pair of beige slacks, an unbuttoned white shirt, and a key card he held limply in his right hand. At the door, he stopped for a moment, rubbing his eyes with his thumb and forefinger, before knocking twice. Nothing. He knocked again, beating strongly against the door. So much so, the reverberations seemed to shake the walls around him. Nothing. The night seemed to be on inside from this end of the peephole. What would be the problem? It was only midnight, and sleeping early had never seemed to be a habit to Jane. Rob’s eyes fluttered, this closed for a moment, and again a memory of the past began to haunt him. [i] It was the final week before Jane’s graduation. The two had gone out earlier, contacting a friend to buy their beer, and headed to the school at nearly three in the morning. They had both agreed that Jane’s graduation—the last of the two to finally be free of that place—was cause for a celebration. They had swung around the back of the school, supplies in hand. He had helped Jane up to an awning, and she had hung an arm down, helping him climb up with her. Together they scaled the school, and walked around the roof; it’s rocky texture accentuated by the scaffolding and ducts of the air conditioning. Atop here, the sky shined so bright; above the streetlights and cars, the skyline was accentuated by the darkness. The lights of the sky, the vast stars…all of it glowed. They had brought a picnic with him, eating shitty sandwiches and stale chips and looking above. They laid out Rob’s old comforter against the concrete beneath them, and looked up. Talking about everything. The band. The school. The past. The future. [/i] [hr] A door with faded red words warned Rob not to enter the staircase to the roof, but he paid it no mind. The door swung open easily; it’s steel tones ringing inside the shaft. Rob felt the cool steel against his bare feet as he ascended upwards. Rising on only a feeling. A gut instinct. Atop here, the hotel’s roof had the highest vantage point for a few miles. The night air of the city seemed to bleed up here. Rob could look down, and see their van. Their trailer. All that they had. Everything they had worked for, for years. In a car and it’s contents. In four kids, just trying to figure out the world. Somewhere near the center of the roof, Rob found her. She lay sprawled out in sleep. Her hair littered the pillow below it. Her body seemed angled in an awkward fashion, not by the discomfort of the concrete below it but in a longing. Like a child, grasping, for something. [i]Anything[/i]. Maybe the night’s events had been a nightmare in Rob’s head. Something to wake up from. Something to forget about. To hide from everyone and everything. But there was a truth he couldn’t deny. In reality or in fantasy, in a dream or in fiction, he had to confront this. It was as if he were seeing, for the very first time. Out of this entire trip, out of the single, the shows, the sex—everything, he had been doing, was done blindly. Instinctually. Effortlessly. And now, seeing Jane like this, being on this roof, faced with the truth ahead of him…he was opening his eyes to what he really needed to do. To quit denying his true self; his own feeling and emotions. To drop his walls. To take a change. To just [i]tell her.[/i] [hr][b]Scene Music: [/b][url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-Pn2ZFm2Jwc]Arcade Fire - We’re All Leaving.[/url] [hr] Rob moved forward, and sat across from Jane. His gently shook her, hoping she’d stir. Her eyes opened—slowly, deliberately—and faced his. And before she could respond. Before he could get the chance to opt out. To sit and listen instead of speak. Rob opened his mouth, and slowly began. “I don’t have the right to ask this of you, but…I haven’t talked to you in a while. Really, actually talked to you. And if you would let me—“ Rob felt a tingle in the back of his throat, and stopped, before starting up again without waiting for his answer. “I fucked up. I don’t talk to people like I should. I let people walk away from me. I never let anyone know how I feel. And this tour—no, [i]fuck,[/i] these past few months…few years…it’s all been on autopilot for me. Like I stopped caring. And on this tour, I acted like I stopped caring about you.” Rob twisted a strand of hair in front of his face, feeling it’s dry texture. “And that isn’t true. This whole time, I’ve been trying to figure out who I am. Not, like, as a part of this band, or anything…as a part of me. Who I am when no one’s looking. And I realized that who I am—or at least, who I wanted to be—was always with you, Jane.” Her full name hung in the space between them, but Rob powered through it. “And I didn’t want it to be true, because I was in denial. I didn’t want to ruin what the band was. What [i]we[/i] were. I’ve never felt like this about anyone, and I did what I always do. I shut everyone out. And…when I did that…in trying not to fuck things up…I [i]really[/i] fucked them up. And I tried to deny myself. Distract myself with the drugs, with the girl at the party, with all the drinking and—and the girl tonight—“ Rob’s voice started to shake. It wasn’t controllable anymore. This sudden admission. Relinquishing everything he had in him. Hot tears filled his face, and for the first time…Rob cried in front of Jane. He lowered his head, pounding it against his closed fist. After a moment, he raised his eyes again, wiping away his moment of weakness. “You’re gonna think it’s the alcohol talking, but it’s not. It’s me. I’ve hurt you. And not just these past three days, but weeks and months before that. And I can’t believe I’ve let it happen for [i]so long.[/i]” Taking in a deep breath, he clutched his elbows with his hands, almost holding himself. “I was always the one that helped you out when you needed me. But really…it was always the other way around for me. You were always there for me. And I [i]need[/i] you again. I need my friend. And I have to tell you…you’re [i]more than that to me now.[/i]” Rob looked up at the stars. He had to say something else. He didn’t want the words to come out of his mouth to be his final sentence. He needed more. “It’s like that one night on the roof. Before your graduation, isn’t it?” He said, scratching his head. He looked back down to her. “I miss that night. [i]I miss who we used to be.[/i]” With that final sentence, Rob was drained. He looked off, staring into whatever void was in front of him, and waited.