Rob found himself in the green room of the venue soon after drinking a cocktail of energy drinks and cheap beer. To his surprise, however, this green room was shared by both bands, as opposed to each band having their own separate space. In here, Rob found Trent and Matt, talking away at each other about some sort of baseball game that had just happened back in the states. Both seemed to have just played their set. [i]Did Vicarious play before, or after them today?[/i] He left them alone, taking refuge on the couch across from them and opening another can of soda. “Hey, Rob!” Trent called out after a moment. “Mets or Angels?” “Dude, I don’t [i]even[/i] know what the fuck you’re talking about,” Rob laughed off. “Sorry man. Not my forte.” Trent trailed off with Matt about their previous conversation, but soon came back: “So what do [i]you[/i] do with all the free time on tour?” “What do you mean?” “Well, you’re clearly not into sports.” Rob lifted up his severely wounded hands to Trent. “I practice.” “Holy shit,” Matt laughed. “Zoe wasn’t kidding.” “How are you even going to play tonight?” Trent asked. As a fellow drummer, he seemed to empathize better with Rob’s issue. “Grip tape, alcohol, and adrenaline,” Rob answered. “I don’t have many other options.” “Look, seriously,” Trent pressed on, “you’ve been gripping your sticks too tight.” [i]”No shit.”[/i] “I’ve seen you play before, Rob. You’re a standard grip kind of guy. You’re so comfortable on the kit I swear you practically don’t even try. If you were muscling through songs with Zoe earlier, it was because you were stressed out, not over-practiced.” Rob rolled his eyes. “Look, Trent, I appreciate the concern, but there’s nothing I can do about it now.” He stood from the couch and made his way back out through the green room’s door. “I’m not your enemy, man,” Trent called out as he left. But Rob didn’t bother to reply. 
Something about the trivial nature of the shows was starting to get to Rob. Having to play it cool with Vicarious, when he knew everyone was stressed out and frustrated at the other band the whole time. In times like these, Rob knew he had a tendency of shutting other people down and locking into what he knew he was good at. And the added stresses of feeling guilty were quickly beginning to subside into frustration. All he wanted at this point was to go back to his bunk and hope Jane had never left. He stepped out near the stage to find out where the others had gone to, only to run into Jane, who seemed ready and willing to help fix his most immediate issue. He laughed softly at he story about eating shit near his place. “I swear,” he added in, “I think I’ve permanently edged my skin into the concrete there before.” He waited until she had ceased talking for a moment, then spoke: “I don’t know how I managed to fuck my hands up this bad. I only practiced for an hour today.” Rob wanted to carry on about how his practice had been with Zoe, but the idea of continuing to bring that up made his drop the idea. Besides, something about the way he had caught the glare of some of Vicarious’ staff made him feel like they knew something he didn’t. Or perhaps something he didn’t [i]want[/i] to know. But soon, the band was called on stage, and Jane and Rob separated after a kiss. Rob quickly mounted the drummer’s throne, and felt the rough wooden sticks in his hands, waiting for Jane to finish her introductory remarks. [i]Wait, she was interviewing with Andy tomorrow?[/i] He thought to himself in response to her words. [i]Why? And when was that going to be mentioned to him?[/i] Sam turned and signaled Rob to start the first song, and Rob was forced to drop the thought entirely, and counted the band in. This was going to hurt. — Spoiler alert: it fucking did. After furiously smashing through the final song on the setlist, Rob had to turn away and essentially let out a roar as he pushed through a fast fill into a hold on the cymbals, feeling the crowd cheer and watching Sam and Austin, making sure each of them cut off at the same time. Finally, as they did, Rob chucked the drumsticks into the audience (much to their satisfaction), and marched off to the side of the stage, managing to drip blood onto the stage as he went. He felt the flash of cameras as he went, and was sure the photo was going to look a lot cooler, once this stopped hurting as much as it did. He moved to the first person he could find that he recognized; Lyla, who was just getting up from her position backstage. “Could you find a first aid kit?” He asked her. Once she caught wind of how bad his hands looked, she immediately dove off, coming back quickly with a similar-looking kit to what Jane had produced earlier, and helped Rob re-bandage the wounds. After he had thanked her for helping, he slipped out his phone to see that Harold had shot him a text: [i]9:52, Harold:[/i] [b]You are banned from practicing between shows until your hands looks normal again. No discussion.[/b] [i]9:59, Rob:[/i] [b]Noted.[/b] As annoying as it was to be told what to do, Harold was right. This was just going to be one of those things he would be paying for, for a while. “Did I do that?” Came a sultry voice. Rob saw Zoe approach from the darkness of backstage, almost as if she had managed to appear on command. “It’s on me,” Rob said. He shot a quick glance around for Jane, only not to find her anywhere. “Did you guys already play?” Zoe nodded. “Someone hasn’t been paying attention. We ended up playing early and wrapping up a bit after eight, so Andy could make calls about an interview or something.” 
“I heard something similar from Jane,” Rob mentioned. But Zoe didn’t seem keen on staying on the subject for too long. “I promised a kid on Twitter I’d come out to sign shit after both sets ended. Wanna come with?” — For the next half hour, Zoe and Rob burrowed their way over to the merch table that the bands had shared for the smaller venue, and each signed a good truckload of respective albums and shirts. One man even wanted both of them to sign his copy of In Boom’s latest record. “I’m already going to need to tell Harold to send more shit out,” Aaron mumbled as the last of the crowd was swept away by bouncers. He loaded up the remaining items. “We’re already out of half the shirts and CDs.” “We’re not doing much better,” another girl said. She was introduced earlier to Rob as Michelle—Vicarious’ merch handler. The four of them talked for a bit, until Rob noticed he had missed a text from Jane. “What’s up?” Zoe asked him as he scanned the text. “Nothing,” he said. It looked like he wouldn’t get much of a chance to see Jane tonight. — Another hour past, and the last of teardown was taken care of. Once each member of each band had slipped away, Rob went exploring inside the venue with Zoe, finding their way up a flight of stairs and onto the roof. Rob’s fingers found their way into his pocket, and he produced the joint Jane had given him earlier. He lit it, and the two smoked together and talked for a long time afterwards. “Hey,” Rob said after a moment of silence between the two. “You know how you told me about singing on record?” Zoe gave a whispered “yeah,” from her position, her head rested on Rob’s lap. “I’ve never heard you sing,” he said. “You won’t, then,” she said. “Not tonight.” “Why not?” “I’ll sing it when I feel like you’ve earned it.” She said, closing her eyes. But as she did, Rob could faintly hear her humming a familiar tune. It was Led Zeppelin’s “Babe I’m Gonna Leave You.” [i]Why was she humming [u]that?[/u][/i] “Rob?” A voice called out soon after. Rob rotated his body around to see Grant’s head popped up from the entrance to the roof. “We’ve got to leave.” “Sure,” Rob said. He waited for Zoe to sit up, before standing up and leaving without the two saying much to each other. On the way back to the bus, Rob apologized: “I’m sorry I was out that late.” “It’s ok,” Grant said. “You’re young. You can have your fun.” “It certainly doesn’t feel like as much fun as it used to,” Rob admitted. Grant turned to Rob, and could only laugh.
 “It never does.” — Rob entered the bus, and pulled back his curtain to find Jane’s form once again inside of his bed. He gave a weak smile, and climbed in with her, holding her again. The exhaustion of the long, confusing day caused Rob to do little more than lie down, as sleep quickly took him once again.