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. [i]What could he say?[/i] 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. …[i]what were we thinking?[/i]”

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: 

[i]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[/i]

—

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. 

[i]Fuck me, right?[/i] 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.