[i]”Rob? Dude, Rob, get up.”[/i]

Rob’s eyes opened to see…nothing much, really. Just filthy concrete and a pair of Converse in front of him. 

He pulled himself off the ground and blinked a few times. Once his eyes focused, he could make out Lyla, standing above him, arms crossed in the cool weather. He had passed out, face first on the rooftop.

“It’s 11:20, dude. You might want to get back in the bus before Grant ditches you in Ukraine.”

Rob nodded silently, and took the hand she offered out to him, helping him up. 

“How’s everyone been?” He managed to ask. Lyla was a new addition to the band’s typical traveling companions, so Rob felt less stressed asking her about the goings-on. 

“Fine enough, if you’re referring to everyone other than you and Jane,” Lyla said honestly. “Austin gets around via Tinder dates. Sam is…Sam. It’s hard to get a read on him sometimes. Aaron is cool ever since I firmly explained my boyfriend was back in the states, and I talk to Grant about as much as you probably do.”

Rob nodded. Funny, having to ask about what else was going on in the band. His mental focus had been so much on Jane, Zoe, and Andy, the experiences and lives of everyone else had taken a backseat recently. 

“And yourself?” he asked.

“Well…it’s quiet for me. And I choose things that way. I mean, yeah, it’s a bit lonely, but this is pretty much what I chose for myself. And I’m getting to see the world while I do it. How many people can say they did what we have done?” 

Lyla was right about that much. It was nice to talk to someone without any….well, any other motives. Just conversation. 

Rob and Lyla made their way back to the bus, which began it’s journey soon afterwards. Rob took a moment to sit down on the couch, trying hard to clear his head of the stresses. Jane was surely asleep at this point, and he had no intention of bothering her. He had no real way of knowing how she had reaction to all that had happened. If she had wanted to speak with him again or not. By the text he had received that day (and failed to respond to), she had most likely been less inclined to do so. 

“Rob?” Lyla said, interrupting his thoughts. While he had thought to himself, she had gotten ready for bed, and slipped back out into the main room with quite the concerned look on her face.

“I’m not trying to interfere with anything…” she started, “but please don’t freak out.”

…what?

Rob stood up, looking past her, seeing the closed curtains. 

“What are you talking about?” he said, his volume almost too loud. 

Lyla raised her hands and made a “please keep it down” motion. “Maybe midnight on a bus is a bad time to cause a scene, alright?”

Rob walked forward, slipping past Lyla, and opening the curtain. His eyes first moved to his bunk.

It was empty. 

His eyes scanned upwards to Jane’s, which was closed off with the curtain—save for one, four inch space. And in that space, Rob could make out the frail form of Jane, buried deep in the arms of Andy. 

He felt Lyla’s hand come upon his shoulder. 

“Not here,” she whispered. Rob felt her gently pull him back towards the front of the bus, and he hesitantly followed suit. He was unsure how to describe exactly how he felt. 

“Look, I know it isn’t optimal, but—“ she started.

“I’m not sleeping under that,” he said. The familiar pit of anger within him grew. An anger he hadn’t felt this strongly since he figured Lena had leaked Jane’s nudes. 

“We’ll switch bunks tonight,” she argued, pointing to hers—the farthest away from the back. “But, you’re going to need to keep your mouth shut until he leaves.”

Rob remained silent for several seconds, before nodding slightly. 

“I don’t know how you feel,” Lyla started. “But, in my defense, no one ever does. So please just…don’t….do anything you’d regret. Alright?”

Rob couldn’t speak for fear of shouting. Lyla took his silence, as a yes.

Soon after, Rob scavenged the cupboard on the bus, digging into the back until he found it—Sam’s stash of his prescription Ambien. 

He took three times the recommended dose, climbed into Lyla’s bunk, and was out before he could even begin to comprehend how he had felt that night. 

All he wanted was a thoughtless night. Fuck trying to figure this out. 

—

Sometime around eight that morning, Rob felt a hand slap across his face. His eyes darted open, and he blinked until he could make out Lyla’s form. Behind her, Austin and Sam stood with worried faces. 

“Fuck,” Lyla muttered. “We thought we needed to call an ambulance.”

“Hmm?” Was all he could manage to say.

“They’re gone. You can go back to your bunk, now.”

Rob’s mind was completely lost in a haze created by the sedative he had taken. He wordlessly crawled out of the bed and moved over to his own, not saying another word. He was out again in moments. 

—

He was awoken again later that morning, although this time by a different form—Jane. 

How did he feel about Jane again? 

The drug had fully claimed his mind, and the constant awakenings kept it from wearing thin. 

He opened his eyes as best he could and tried to listen. 

[i]”Andy told me you ended things with Zoe.”[/i]

His mind flashed to the moments of the past few days. Zoe’s accusatory language, his binge drinking, and the phone call with his father. Moments of pleasure and pain so tightly wound together. Each day was now even more so a rollercoaster of highs and lows. The tour had fully taken it’s toll on Rob, and here he was, unsure of how or what to say the woman he probably loved. 

Even that he wasn’t sure of. The sedative had made it all seem like a long, slow dream. 

“I’m not…here, right now,” Rob muttered, pointing to his head. “I took Sam’s Ambien after I found you and Andy…”

[i]Fuck. Bad start.[/i] 

It was almost embarrassing for Jane to see Rob this out of it. Almost all of the time, Rob was constantly sober. He was the one caring for Jane most of the time, not Andy, and not the other way around. The fact that he found himself in this situation only reminded him of how numb he wanted to feel. How little he wanted to have this conversation right now. He just wanted more time to sleep this feeling off. More time to think.

More time. More time. Always with him—more time. 

“Sorry,” he slurred. “That came out…wrong. I just…fuck…it’s been a long few days.”

[i]Understatement of the fucking year, there.[/i]

“I’m just tired, J,” he managed to get out. His words began to form in front of him—an honesty not usually transparent surfaced within him: “I’m tired of…myself. I’m tired of this tour and I’m tired of wanting to leave when this is supposed to be the high point of my life.”

Rob thought for a moment, then: “I guess I thought telling Zoe about all of this shit would spare you from having to deal with me. Turned out, I relied on that far too much, and definitely ended up getting what I deserved.”

He tried to rub the sleep from his eyes, feeling them water and nearly pour out of his eyes like tears. Maybe they [i]were[/i] tears. Rob wasn’t even sure at this point. “Clearly, I’m stressed out,” he tried to joke. “Otherwise I wouldn’t have gotten myself this fucked up.” 

Strange, how he needed to get this out of his own head in order to simply be honest with Jane.