Rob peeled his face from the glass table that lay on the balcony. Out here, the sun had long since fallen. 

He shook his head and gathered his bearings. [i]What time was it?[/i]

Down below, the bright shining lights of the cars and street lamps below all blurred together into brilliant, bleary flares. Rob felt as if he was in some sort of strange trance, that he had woken up now, as the night was simply beginning for so many other people.

Rob zipped up his hoodie and pulled himself from the chair. Within moments he was in the bedroom of the apartment building—his body limply tossing itself onto the mattress.

He felt terrible.

He wasn’t sure what had brought on this new case of depression. Thinking back on all of the experiences that he had been through this past tour, perhaps it could have been a whole slew of things. So many things to pick and choose from. Maybe it was all of it. Or maybe even none. 

Rob stared slowly off to the walls of his room. Here, the fervent mixture of moonlight and street light alike illuminated his room into a warm tone. He could here the ambience of the people below him on the street—the movements of the oblivious and the happy. He wondered if they were going to be interested in going to their concert. Or maybe they had cancelled their tickets once they had heard that Vicarious was not going to show. 

He was not the leader In Bloom thought he could be. 

Or so he thought. Maybe it was too pretentious of him to even assume he had ever led them in the first place. 

Here was Rob, or so he imagined them saying. The straight arrow. The responsible one. And in times he had felt that way. It was so easy a switch for him to turn to become someone he wasn’t truly. And while this recent strain of ability and confidence had been convincing to them or so it seemed, the only person who truly knew the truth, was none other than himself.

And he was miserable. 

Half a world away from the town he knew and was growing each day to miss. Stretched out on a tour that seemed more and more like a prison each day. Beating down the things he once loved until he loathed the stage and the drums before him. At what point was the magic taken away from him? At what point did he stop wanting to do this? Had it become a slow fade or did it all happen at once. And could he ever find that again?

Rob’s eyes closed tightly and he took in a deep breath. It slowly released.

At some point this moment would need to end. At some point he would need to rise from this bed and return to the life he had already set out ahead for himself. There was no escaping the responsibility of the world beyond these walls. Beyond this solitary prison he had set himself into for the night. 

And now as he lay, he lay alone. Here separated from the one person who cared deeply about him. The one person he pushed away. 

What the fuck had he been thinking? 

—

A low thud reverberated from the front of the apartment over to the open room Rob lay in. The sound jolted him slightly from his pseudo-fugue state. His arms pulled his body from the bed, and his legs strained to work under the weight they had not expected to hold.

He did not bother to look through the peephole. Whatever lay beyond this door had come to him. It was best if he tried to face that fact. If he tried to take any responsibility and live up to those great expectations. He tried on a weak smile as he opened the door.

And outside was Jane. 

Her body was nestled against itself—uncomfortable yet at ease on the floor below them. Her facial expression was loose and weak—even in this state Rob could see the strong effects of alcohol on her. Even the way her saw her gently breathing. In and out. In and out. 

Without instruction his body moved to her. His arms slipped around her back and her legs and picked her up. He carried her closely to him and set her down upon his bed. 

And here she continued to sleep. Loose blonde tendrils streaked across her clear face. Her eyes fluttered beneath their lids in dreamlike sleep. From her face down across her body she looked so tortured and beautiful. 

And God, was she beautiful.

Rob felt so desperate to awaken her in this moment. [i]How was she feeling? What was she thinking? What does she want?[/i]

It was like the past indiscretion on his part had never happened. He wanted her now. He finally could truly see it. He wanted her so terribly, so passionately, but why?

After all this time and all across this tour, why?

He did not know. He could not think. The call to sleep came quickly after he had moved her into this bed. And while the decisions he had made forced him not to hold her close, it took all of his energy that night to crawl into bed next to her, and feel her warmth from a distance. 

She was what he had given up. Only she could allow him back. 

Because, at least in this moment, he felt the strongest duality he had ever felt. So in awe at what he had had, and so ashamed of what he had given up.

Whatever happened when next they woke, he would have to tell her. He would have to apologize for what he had done. Up here in this small apartment—this little hideaway from the rest of it all—he would have to find a way to fix all of this. And become what the others had expected.

Maybe that’s what Jane did to him.

She made him want to be better. 

And as the night faded later and Rob curled up into himself, he watched Jane’s body slowly breathe just inches away from him. And as he gently traced the tips of his fingers across her back, he wanted so desperately to have her back in his arms. 

But only she could decide that.