HangYourSecrets

In Bloom [HangYourSecrets x megatrash] [18+]

It was true. Rob was never late.

He had been spending the time trying desperately to drain the idea of that last conversation out of his head, and he turned once again to something he never typically did.

He had drank almost all the alcohol out of the mini-fridge.

It had started with the beers. Simple enough. Rob typically enjoyed beer when he could, but he wasn’t a heavy drinker. Those days had long faded away from him. But, eventually, the beers ran out, and there had just been so many small bottle of liquor left in the back…

His mind faded to a memory he had of the past:



It as about his senior year in high school, and it was the only time he allowed himself to get absolutely fucked up.

It was a prom afterparty, and both Rob and Jane were hosting. Their lives had been going so well at this point. The music was starting up now, and felt as if it was writing itself. Each night of the week would be spent at the others’ house. Smoking, watching films, passing out in the early hours of the morning, too tired to have changed out of their clothes.

Normally on such a night Rob would the the smart one, and would help Jane when she had taken things too far. He doubted Jane would remember it, but it was she who had to help Rob out of the room, into the bathroom, where he had puked his guts out. My god, how it smelled…

Rob blinked a few times as he heard a faint honking out of his window. He got up, and felt not bad, but…really really good. Apart from the earlier incident, he could usually function just fine under the influence. And now, in the middle of a tour, he really, truly had to.

Rob essentially ran down the steps of the hotel, and hopped into the van quickly.

“Lets do it,” he said, giving everyone a smile. A sweet, near-fuck-you smile. After what had happened earlier, it was time to play some music, to enjoy day, and to really, really enjoy the night.

---

After sound check, Rob watched as Sam nervously approached. He knew what he was going to say before he had even said it.

“Are you drunk?” Sam asked quietly. Worriedly.

“I may have had a few drinks—“ Rob got out, before doubling over in laughter. Sam nearly squirmed at the sight. “Yeah. I’m a bit drunk.”

“What the fuck, Rob?”

“Hey,” Rob said, defending himself, “when have I ever messed up a set? Ever?”

“That’s not the point,” Sam said. “Look, me and Austin are trying to stay out of it, but—“

“Yeah yeah, I need to get myself together,” Rob mocked. “I need to stop. I need to fix things. Look, can I just have one night to myself?”

“To do what, Rob?” Sam asked. His gaze appeared more and more stern as he talked, but Rob couldn’t help but think about how Sam was two years younger than him. In this moment, that fact was actually kind of hilarious.

“I dunno. Drink? Sleep? Fuck? If she can do it, I can.”

Rob smiled and tapped out a rhythm on his thighs as Sam stared incredulously.

“Who are you, man?” Sam asked. He seemed more desperate than mad. “You act like a totally different fucking person every day. Sometimes more often than that.”

“What can I say?” Rob shot back. “I’m the drummer. I’m supposed to sit back and hold everyone together while they fuck themselves up. God fucking forbid I do it myself.”

“This is pointless,” Sam conceded as he walked off.

---

The next person Rob found was Anna, who was waiting where he had told her to, by the trailer.

“I didn’t think you’d show,” she said. She let what was left in her cigarette fall from her fingertips and ground it out beneath her shoe. Rob gave her a smile and opened the trailer hitch, before taking her inside with all their stuff.

“I told you I would,” he murmured before crashing his lips into hers. She didn’t protest, and even kissed back, for just a moment, before pulling away and licking her lips.

“You’re drunk,” she said.

“I’ve only got ten more minutes,” Rob said, pulling her close. “Are you sure you want to talk me being drunk, or—“

Before Rob could finish his sentence, Anna’s lips pressed into his, and their arms wrapped around each other. Before Rob could even ask, he felt Anna’s nimble fingers unbuckling his belt.

---

He was back on stage, anew, only moments before the show was set to begin. He felt Sam and Austin’s eyes burrow into his skin, pressing into to him, but he paid it no mind. He felt great, he was ready, and he was about to perform again. What more could he want?

It was then he locked eyes with Jane, and everything stood still for a moment.

Her gaze wasn’t easy to read. Between the commotion of today, the trip, the hotel, the load in…they hadn’t really had a moment to really…look at each other. Sure, they had talked, but…look at each other?

And for once, he just couldn’t understand what she was trying to tell him. But, if he really had to guess, it was probably disappointment.

Perhaps it was no mistake that Rob had been with Anna. Perhaps it was no coincidence that the two looked so similar.

God, it all felt so freudian.

But as the stage lit up, and the band walked out, Rob did what Rob had always learned to do; he suppressed the thoughts. He sat down, counted the band off, played his heart out, and played well. The show felt as if it was a dream. A sequence of events Rob saw and reacted to but he wasn’t ever really a part of. Sure, he caught the occasional look from Sam and Austin, but suddenly, he couldn’t even read them anymore. It was as if he wasn’t even in the band. He was just filling in for another man. A better man.

And as he looked up to Jane during the single, watching her sing the same words, build up and scream the bridge, look out to all the adoring fans…he realized it was as if everything he worked wasn’t for him anymore.

It was for her.

And so he kept moving forward, put on a smile, and waited for the whole thing to end. And, as it did, he quickly loaded up his equipment, texted Anna to meet him at the hotel, and waited in the van for the others.

“You guys did great,” Rob said, speaking truthfully, as they entered the van. “Damn good show.”

The entire ride back, Rob stared ahead, earbuds in, and listened to whatever would come on. He couldn’t bear to look over to his left. 

Even if he couldn’t admit it to himself, a part of him had fallen in love with her over all those years. And because of his denial, all he ever could manage to do was push her away.

And he hated himself for it.

In Bloom [HangYourSecrets x megatrash] [18+]

Rob felt as Jane came outside next to him, and silently offered the cigarette she had requested.

“It’s alright,” he croaked out after she apologized for being on the couch. She continued on, clearly stressed, and tried her best to say what she had to say with a clear conscience. He couldn’t fault her for that.

But her cause of concern was on all the wrong things. How could she think things were about the single anymore? As if it was the single that had made him feel this way. Somehow through his actions, she seemed to think he hated her. That he was distant to her. And while that was true for now, it was only a fleeting moment; a passing haze while Rob tried to hard to decide for himself what it was he wanted. And a part of him knew that it was cruel for him to act in this manner. He had heard the complaints hundreds of times from friends and family. You’re distant, Rob. You’re so…cold. I never know who I’m talking to…

The list would go on into infinity if he had let it. A lifetime of being told to express his feelings had left him in purgatory, unsure of whether to act against his own nature to please the masses and lie to himself, or prove them right by just being who he had always been. It was a big fucking mess and things weren’t easy to fix.

In this moment, Rob chose to be true to himself, and let Jane clear her thoughts of him before turning away from him, her last words stinging as they struck him. She seemed to have a habit of saying her peace and leaving, uninterested in the response. Either that, or Rob seemed to have a habit of refusing to chase people down. To tell them what he had ever meant.

As he turned inside, he dressed himself and loaded his stuff into the car, quietly sitting in the backseat and putting earbuds in, hoping the others wouldn’t bother him. For once he was choosing not to so much as talk anymore, and just wanted to be alone. Was it so much to ask for? To be alone? Never once would anyone let him be himself. Just let him fucking think.

---

2:29, Rob: How’s Dallas?

2:41, Anna: Much more boring without the other bands here. We got a head start but nothing to do now that we’re here.

2:42, Rob: Well THAT wasn’t subtle.

2:45, Anna: Being subtle never got me anywhere. It certainly wouldn’t have gotten me this far.

2:47, Rob: What time does Vulture go on?

2:49, Anna: 9. Right after your set at 8. What are you doing after?

2:52, Rob: I dunno yet. Most likely crashing somewhere in town.

2:55, Anna: Vulture doesn’t leave Dallas until tomorrow afternoon…

2:59, Rob: I’ll be in touch.

---

After another few hours, Sam’s father called Rob, of all people. He was an accountant, and tended to the bands finances in his spare time since none of them had been any good with the money. Normally, Harold (or Hard-ass, as he was sometimes called) had bad news, told them to stop spending anything, or that they couldn’t have a certain thing. Today, he was actually much cheerier than usual.

“Look, Sam won’t answer his phone—“ He said on the other side of the phone, “but your streaming numbers for the album is through the roof.”

“Like what, a couple thousand?” Rob asked.

“Like, seven hundred thousand on the single alone.”

“Excuse me?”

“Another fifty thousand on each song on the record and counting. Internet sales, CD orders—all of it’s through the roof. Either its the song, or the tour, or both, but we’ve more than paid off the loan I took out for the tour. Check your email.”

In Rob’s inbox, four confirmation emails came through for a hotel.

“Think of it as a celebratory gift,” he said. “I wanted to just do two rooms but…Sam called me earlier today. Said there were issues?”

“…yeah.”

“Well get some time away from everyone, get some rest, and fix it. Now isn’t the time to mess this up.”

---

News of the sales numbers spread quickly, and for the most part, everyone seemed excited. The mood in the van was…good, and aside from the obvious silence between Jane and Rob, the rest of the journey had gone off without a hitch. Hotel check-in was even easier, but the group barely had time to set their things down before they needed to load back up and head to the festival for load in.

“I’m sorry,” he managed to cough out to Jane, once he had a moment alone with her in the madness. “I’m not good with…I don’t know…this. Being open. Being…vulnerable. It’s not me.”

Rob scratched at his head. “You’re not annoying,” he continued. “And it’s not the single, and I’d like to believe we’re still friends and—and god…it’s such bullshit to say out loud, but it really is me. I’m just kind of fucked up in the head right now.”

He tried to grasp her shoulder, but it felt so…off. Unnatural. Like it wasn’t the way he wanted to touch her—

“Rob!” a voice called out. Rob turned to see Sam, needing some help moving a box near the van. A way out of whatever awkwardness he was creating in front of Jane. God…he just felt so small in this moment.

“I’ve gotta—“ he said, before motioning to Sam. Turning and clearly blushing, Rob ran off, leaving and quickly helping Sam.

If he could just get to tonight…if he could just get laid…if he could just sleep with someone other than Jane, to clear that godforsaken memory out of his head, holding her close to him—

Maybe that’d fix things.

In Bloom [HangYourSecrets x megatrash] [18+]

Rob’s eyes remained shut as the last of the night’s dreams faded away from him. Slowly, the senses came to him, and the first thing he felt was heat.

There was a vibrant warmth radiating in the space in front of him, and it permeated him from his face to his feet. His face felt the soft prickling of hair grazing across it, and the texture was hair that was not his own. He became aware of his arm, one sprawled out, under a pillow in front of him, and the other was draped over, holding a body against himself, finding refuge by grasping their breast, holding them close. In his moment, he also became aware of his own excitement, and as his eyes opened, he saw blonde hair, tangling ahead of him, pulling him in, releasing their scent.

And it was beautiful.

In this fleeting moment he felt closure, he felt peace. In his mind, amidst the chaos and noise of the album he had heard before he slept, remembered the piece locked in the middle, between the noise and rage. And it was warm, and it was good. Nine Inch Nails - A Warm Place

He breathed in, deeply, before slowly exhaling, watching the hairs surrounding his face rattle and shake from the gust. Slowly, the world around seeped into his moment. Thoughts of the tour. Thoughts of Jane. Thoughts of her…infidelity?

No. That wasn’t right. Jane wasn’t his to have. She never was. He was always there, sure, but her life wasn’t his to choose. And as they slowly drifted apart, from each other and from their collective past, she was less and less a part of his life and more a part of her own.

The past was so sure, so solid. There wasn’t a need for discussions, for intensity. For anger. Rob knew exactly what he was to Jane, and he felt that she felt the same. But as the years passed, there was this undeniable confusion of roles. An identity crisis. Somewhere between the past and where he lie, on this couch, on this morning, the roles had long since faded. And there was no way to have stopped it from happening.

Rob didn’t know how Jane felt of him. It wasn’t something he had ever questioned before, but he sure was questioning it now. All he knew was that he was growing an attachment; a dangerous connection, and that the longer he denied it, the longer he denied himself.

“What have we become?” He said softly, barely louder than a whisper.

Rob released Jane from his grip,and softly turned over, hoping against his better judgement that whatever the night had become, it was remain as so. He grabbed his phone, checking the time, and knew they had to leave in an hour. Looking around, no one had awoken. Hoping not to accept their host, Rob slid out of the bed as softly as he could, and walked out to the patio, taking his Newports with him.

As the harsh, rich scent of tobacco hit his nostrils, he tried to forget what had happened. Maybe that was for the best. Even if he knew, he most likely wouldn’t.

After the End

Alright, so anyone else wanting to converse with the captain, go on ahead. I'll simply imply the conversation's direction in my next post and have Eve be in the same time point as the rest of you. So he's free. :)

@Carantathraiel

Just posted, and hopefully we'll have this cleared up soon. Feel free to intervene in Amos' impending conversation if you wish to.

After the End

Amos & Cormac

---

Amos had long since given up on his salve to save his own stomach. Now, the goal was simply to keep the other crew members healthy. After news of Amos helping a sailor with a head injury had gotten around well enough, two or three stragglers would wanter into their sleeping quarters, asking for a common fix to a more common problem. It was truly no issue, especially since Amos had prepared for such injuries, but he couldn’t help but admit helping these sailors, while good for this journey, was taking away from helping the members of his party once their time on this ship had passed on.

As he churned out another drink, this one to clear the body of any natural toxins within, Amos decided to give one final effort to a solution to his nausea. He could only hope he would be so successful.

---

The day dragged into evening. It seemed everyone was busy doing something on the ship, which was better than everyone doing a whole lot of nothing. There was still a fellow perched in the crow's nest, and some of the sailors were gambling again. Cormac opted to stay out of those games for the time being. He wasn't going to wait a moment longer; the mast was bothering him more now that he'd had a good serving of whiskey. He had to find his messenger.

Cormac noticed the blind woman's servant first, but he decided against sending him to fetch the lady. Chances were, he reckoned, that the posh madame would take offense to being interrupted from whatever she was doing, and chances were he'd say something that'd turn into a sort of grudge. Besides, that Rory boy seemed to be having a grand old time watching the sailors. Cormac left him be.

But then the mercenary spotted just the man he needed: Amos Breckenridge, the good and respectable alchemist. He was precisely the man Cormac could trust to make a persuasive case. At least, he hoped he'd be the right man.

So, Cormac made his way over, his wooden leg distinctly thumping against the ship's planks as he went. When he was several feet away from the seated physician, Cormac cleared his throat.

---

Hours had passed, and still no solution to his ailment. By the time evening had come, the churning within him had subsided slightly, but if the previous nights were any indication for the next, there wouldn't be much rest for him.

It was then that Cormac had entered, his thumping leg giving away his entrance long before his sight. Cormac and Amos were two men who would most likely relate the most. Cormac was only slightly older than Amos, but both men had many years over the other members. Amos had hoped to get a word out of Cormac before, but his time was spent with the oarsmen on on the deck, where Amos had spent his time with his herbs and on his cot.

He nodded as Cormac entered the room. "Evening," he said, briskly.

"Aye, so it is," answered the bigger fellow gruffly, wiping his hairy hand across his face. It was hard not to notice the missing middle finger on that hand, and harder still to miss the bottle he was holding. Yet he seemed rather sober and composed. Curious.

"Look, I'm not one to mince words," the maimed warrior continued. "And it's for that reason I be needing a hand. The damned captain's risking all our lives, and I need you to light a fire under his sorry ass." He pointed down at Amos as he spoke in a relaxed manner, then jerked his thumb behind him. "I'll show you. C’mon."

Amos couldn't help but take a quick glanced at the man's injuries. The missing middle finger and leg were the obvious wounds, but the scars along his face were less direct, but just as telling. The two men were experts in their fields, but their fields...they were vastly different, safe to say.

The alchemist set down his tools as Cormac motioned for him to follow. He appreciated the quick conversation, and could respect a men that'd cut straight to the point with him. Besides, the walk may do him good. He hadn't tried a good pace for a few days, and seeing a potential danger to the party was enough motivation for him to do so. As he stepped out into the open air, and saw the sea stretching out beyond them, he was already glad he had gotten out.

Amos' companion seemed a little less glad, however.

"Here," he said with a wave of his hand, motioning up at the mast. "Watch her. There's a wind about, and the sea's rocking the ship. You'll see the trouble in a moment."

What was obvious to Cormac was less obvious to Amos. The mast stood straight and tall like a tower above the sea. The sails were full and unfurled. If there was a problem, there was naught evidence of it to be seen. It...

Was the mast swaying?

"There, I see you see it," Cormac noted with a snap of his fingers. "How she moves! That's shoddy work, and it's going to topple on all our heads if we go through a storm.”

Amos strained to stare above them, spreading his legs slightly to account for the swaying of the ship. Between that swaying, the clouds above them, and the setting sun, it was hard to tell exactly what the veteran had been talking about. However, Amos knew he was no master of the sea. Cormac surely had the knowledge here that Amos did not, and while his gruff exterior seemed ill-suited for convincing the captain of the issue, the man had knowledge of that shortcoming and had sought out Amos to pass this message forward. Regardless of Amos not fully understanding the issue, he decided it was best to trust his fellow man.

"Aye," he said, looking back down to Cormac and slowly growing accustomed to his sea legs. "I'll seek out the captain. Let him know. Although I've not got the technical knowledge here. If I convince him of the problem he'll surely head to you to figure out just how we get this mast fixed.”

"That's good," Cormac grunted, nodding at his compatriot. "You're a good man, Amos. Just make sure he understands we're doing him a favor, not the other way around, and he ought to remember that when the time comes. I won't be surprised if the cheap bastard offers us naught in return.

"And..." Cormac looked the alchemist over with a low rumble in his throat. "You seem a good man, even if you do look like you'd throw your back out lifting a bucket of water. You let me know if there's aught I can do for ya, aye?”

Amos couldn’t help but laugh at the man’s statement. It was honest, and it was true. Giving him a nod, Amos turned to be off.

“I’ll be sure to,” he said, making his way across the deck.

The Captain was supposed to be somewhere around the other side of the ship or so he thought. He walked with a renewed confidence in how own legs as he crossed the main section of the boat, giving nod to the sailors that passed him by. A few thanked him for his remedies, and Amos would respond with a curt “Aye” as he passed.

He knew somewhere around this part of the ship were Eve’s quarters. He hadn’t seen much of his party members, and he saw both her and her aide far less. There was a large question in his mind about the use of a blind woman upon their journey, but it was best not to mention such things before one even knew a person. He wondered where she and her Rory had been, and how they had been.

Finally, Amos came upon where he had been told to go; where the captain said he would reside. He thought he saw the man amidst a few other of his seamen, and approached quickly.

“Evening, Captain,” he said briskly. “May I have a word?”

In Bloom [HangYourSecrets x megatrash] [18+]

Eventually Rob climbed back out of the shower, and threw on a pair of sweatpants, before re-entering the guest bedroom. Out here, Sam and Austin were both waiting for him.

“What is this, an intervention?” Rob joked, reaching into his bag and pulling out his phone cable. But his bandmates were less than amused. Austin walked over, picked up Rob’s bag, and handed it back to its owner.

“After yesterday?” he said, “Yeah. You’re sleeping on the pull-out.”

Rob laughed. “Yeah, I guess I deserve it. But you forgot something. Jane’s on the pull out.”

Sam and Austin gave each other a worried look. Rob’s smile slowly dissipated. “What?” he asked. “There’s only two bedrooms, right? Obviously she’ll be on the pull out.”

“Then where is she now?” Sam asked. Rob thought for a moment again. No…really? She couldn’t be—

Rob ran out into the living room, the kitchen, and saw the closed door into the master bedroom. No Jane to be found. Quickly, he made his way back to the guest room before he could hear anything. “I don’t want to be a door away from…that.” He said, but Sam and Austin wouldn’t budge.

“It’s never bothered you before,” Sam said. “So why does it now?”

Without answering, Rob grabbed his things and walked out into the living room. He put his headphones in and threw on the heaviest track he could find while he pulled out the bed within the couch: Nine Inch Nails - March of the Pigs.

It was an old track he used to listen to to play along on drums. The tempo was lethal, the key signature changed twice every four bars, but most importantly…it was angry as fuck. In his high school days, this sort of music defined him. And now, it was loud and angry enough to cover anything coming out of that master bedroom. On his knees, he softly tapped out the rhythm, counting down the endless pattern, counting the beat off in his head:

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 |2 2 3 4 5 6 7 |3 2 3 4 5 6 7 |1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8|

---

Rob let the rest of the album play out as he tried to sleep, having cut off every light in the house and constantly tossed and turned on the old, lumpy mattress.

His phone vibrated the bed towards the end of the record:

10:45, Anna: Fell asleep yet?

10:48, Rob: Not yet.

10:49, Anna: I can’t either. We’re somewhere between El Paso and Dallas. The bus won’t stop shaking! lol

10:51, Rob: This couch probably isn’t much better.

10:53, Anna: …Jane kick you off the bed? Haha

10:58, Rob: Jane and I aren’t seeing each other.

10:59, Anna: Ooff, no need to be so formal! We’re all friends here! And you can’t blame me for assuming. You two looked like an old married couple today.

11:04, Rob: The road is hard. Sometimes, we all fight. I’m sure the Vulture guys do the same thing. Rich fucks.

11:05, Anna: And you’re poor enough NOT to justify it! Especially when your front woman fucks around :p

11:07, Rob: I’m assuming that’s pretty well-known?

11:09, Anna: Nope, I was just assuming it, but you confirmed it. :)

11:10, Rob: We probably shouldn’t talk about that.

11:12, Anna: You’ll lulled me to sleep anyways. Damn, I wish I had you every night. Good Night, Rob.

11:13, Rob: Good Night.

---

Rob tossed the phone and headphones aside and rolled back over. After another ten minutes of trying to sleep, Rob heard footsteps slowly move through the house. After being in the dark this long, the house was no longer pitch-black, but instead a room of shadows. He saw what he assumed to be Jane’s silhouette move through heading out to the patio. As she did, his own words rang through his head.

If you wanted to talk…

It seemed as if she didn’t.

Rob rolled over, leaving an empty space on the pull-out next to him, and fell asleep after another five minutes.

In Bloom [HangYourSecrets x megatrash] [18+]

“It’s called Weatherman,”

Wait…what?

They were playing Weatherman? Rob couldn’t help but suppress a smile. That song wasn’t something they played regularly. Or really…ever. To have Jane bust it out like this was really appreciated. Kicking into the odd, rhythmic tom fill that bleed into the song, Rob slammed the touring kit with everything he had, not stopping until Jane’s scream filled the air and the crowd was ready for it.

Rob watched as Sam and Austin pulsed to the beat, slamming their heads down every two beats to the song. In a sort of uncontrollable fashion, Rob followed suit, enjoying the tempo, feeling the music, and playing as loud as possible. Playing with this much vigor would normally kill a good drummer; he’d run out of steam two songs in. His fingers would bleed after two more. But…for Weatherman?

Yeah. It was worth it.

By the time the song had ended and the single came on, Rob had been reduced to sweat. By the time the bridge came on, one of his sticks snapped in half with a sickening crack only he could hear. He quickly switched out to a fresh stick without missing a beat. By the time the song ended, he stood up, and ran out of the throne and to the front of the stage, by Austin. He lobbed the sticks into the crowd (overhand, so as to not pummel someone) and waved slightly as he walked off, stage-right.

“Good set,” Anna said as he passed her. She had her hands on a box labeled VULTURE in large, sprayed-on letters; the band would be taking the stage immediately after them. In between two fingers was a scrap of paper, with a number on it. She handed it to him as he passed. “If the road gets lonely…” she trailed off. Rob gave her a smile and hastily typed the number into his phone. A good what-if, he supposed.

As he trailed off, he saw Jane talk to two other people near the stage. Must’ve been the tenants for tonight. He didn’t think much of it and went to wait in the van. After Jane arrived, covered in sweat, like himself, they headed off soon after.

“Thanks,” he said, as they drove. “For Weatherman. I appreciate you…doing that, for me.”

Words caught in Rob’s mouth. He thought it best just to keep his mouth shut.

Was he…nervous? Why?

---

On the car ride back, Rob slid out his phone, throwing a blind text to Anna.

How’d the show go?

It was three minutes before a response came:

Still going. Long-ass set. See you soon?

Rob thought for a moment, before:

Absolutely.

---

They arrived at the night’s lodging, a little ways out of El Paso. Out here, the desert was in every part of the air; words rang in Rob’s ears from everyone he knew from these parts: It’s a dry heat.

Rob about rolled out of his seat, marching his way to the back and grabbing his bag. As he passed Jane, he stopped, for just a moment.

“Hey, if you wanted to talk…” Rob said, letting his words die off. God, why was this so hard? “Anyways. Have a good night.”

Rob moved straight to the house, exchanged pleasantries with their hosts, and went straight into the designated room. He entered the shower, let the water pour over him, and hoped he’d never have to get back out.

In Bloom [HangYourSecrets x megatrash] [18+]

Rob’s quiet sanctity was interrupted by his sudden fall backwards. If it weren’t for Jane, Rob’s head would’ve smacked the back of the asphalt. Also, if it wasn’t for Jane, the entire incident could’ve been avoided. So, in a way, everything evened out.

He pulled himself up as he felt Jane push against his back, helping him back upright. Quickly, he flung the notebook he held under one of the front seats, hoping Jane hadn’t noticed. By his luck, she already had. She had climbed back into the driver’s seat, not waiting for Rob to move. He saw her hand swing around to his legs, grabbing her own bag. Instead of leaving…Rob waited. His eyes closed, and he heard the shuffling of items in a bag. The dry sound of fabric sliding against skin. And for the first time he could remember…Rob wanted to see.

Fuck, he thought to himself. What am I, thirteen?

Before temptation could prove itself victorious, Jane turned to face him after she had changed.

”I found us a place to sleep tonight. Won’t be a party or anything.”

Her voice felt sort of fragile as she said it. There was no doubt in Rob’s mind that she had seen something she shouldn’t have seen; something Rob knew he had done out of confusion and anger than any real lust. They were alone, here. In this moment. It was quiet, and honest, and ultimately real. The stage, the crowds…none of it mattered. Not to two twenty-somethings in a shitty black van, waiting for their set to start.

“Let’s uh…let’s talk sometime,” Rob said, staring ahead to the other side of the car, avoiding her gaze. “Sometime later.”

”I guess I’ll see you in there, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Rob said, waiting until Jane had long since left the van; long since her footsteps pattered off into the roar of the crowd some ways away.

As he was putting his journal back into it’s bag, Rob watched Sam approach.

“Alright,” Sam said, feigning a casual entrance and standing beside the van, “what’s going on?”

“Nothing,” Rob shot back, “but I’m sorry about earlier at the mall. That was rude of me—“

“That’s not what I’m asking about?”

The two band members looked to each other. Normally, Sam was the most distant from Rob, and vice versa. The two never really agreed on the sound for the bad. For the most part, Sam was happy with the directions things were headed—so long as he was still able to write his own riffs, and refrain from being neglected to rhythm. Perhaps that was the issue. Sam was all about being above rhythm, whereas Rob embraced it. Now…after things with Jane had gotten all fucked up, it was Sam who seemed closer than Jane.

“Austin?” Rob threw out there, knowing who had put Sam up to this. Sam nodded. Knowing him, if he had his way, he’d let the two work it out on their own time. Austin was smart enough to know that it wasn’t going to work. Not this time.

“Look,” Rob started,” I’m just sort of…I dunno. Fucked up in the head about everything. I’m not trying to mess up what we have. It’s just the single, the tour…last night? I feel off.”

“Like something’s missing?” Sam asked. Rob thought of the words hastily scrawled out on the pages tucked away in his bag.

“Like I’ve been denying something,” he responded. “And I really am sorry about the mall thing.”

“Dude, if you thought that really bothered me, you don’t know me.” Sam turned to leave. “At and least admit you have feelings? It’s not just Jane that’s messing things up.”

It’s probably not her at all, Rob thought as he saw the guitarist leave. It’s me.

---

Sound check was a blur.

Rob walked on stage and quickly did his thing; hitting each instrument, telling the sound guy to crank the kick, playing a few notes to prove it…just like the show before this, and every show before that. After he finished, he walked off and smoked the rest of his pack of cigarettes from earlier that day, standing around the loading section of the parking lot claimed by the festival. Looking off into the Texan desert surrounding El Paso, Rob felt the distinct feeling of wanting to claim the nearest car. The camino near him would’ve done nicely.

He’d drive off, down the nearest highway, and wouldn’t stop. Somewhere along the endless highway, he’d decide just what to do.

And why was everything so confusing? Rob questioned himself. This was unlike him. He was a forward guy, normally. He was always direct; when he wanted something, he’d ask for it. When he had a thought about the band of the direction, he’d say it. And now…he wasn’t really sure what he wanted. Maybe that was the problem. If he could just get some time alone…just to talk with h—

“Jack Pennie?” a voice came from behind Rob. He turned to see a crew member, dressed in all black. Her blond hair was tied back tightly, and she had a sort of suppressed smirk on her face.

“Rob,” he said.

“Oh, shit,” she said, smiling, “sorry. Should’ve known. Anyways, you’re on in ten minutes.”

“You work for the festival?” He asked. She shook her head.

“I’m a Roadie for Vulture,” she said. Vulture was a band at a few of the festivals In Bloom had been playing with; they were a much bigger band, and usually headlined a few of the gigs. Rob wasn’t surprised they had gotten roadies with them.

“Shouldn’t you be helping them out?” Rob asked. “I checked the schedule. Load in for Vulture is in ten minutes,”

“Then we’re both were we shouldn’t be,” she said. “I’m Anna.”

“Rob,” he said, moving forward and shaking her hand. He turned and began heading to the stage. “I’ll catch you in Dallas, right? Next stop on our tour.”

“We’ll be there, too,” Anna said, turning around towards a large sleeper bus. Vulture’s, no doubt. “Good luck Rob.”

“Good luck, Anna.”

Rob ran back, made his way to the stage, and quietly stood off to the side, ready to get the show over with. As if he didn’t have enough to worry about.

As he looked to Jane, he only hoped they would confront each other soon. From this perspective, it seemed that the band fell into the balance with these things.

Rob closed his eyes, felt the roar of the crowd, and prepared once again for another show.

Let’s get this over with.

After the End

@DeltaV Thanks for clearing it up, and I thought the post you made was really well thought out. Almost made me feel like we were playing a version of DnD. For purposes of chronology, I would suggest we assume we're all on the same time in between your posts, although it's totally up to yourself. I totally understand why the timescale has been liberal thus far.

@Carantathraiel However you'd like to handle the dinner is fine by myself; the only thing is that my and @Shorticus's collaborative post is going to end with Amos hopefully finding the captain in some manner, so I wanted to clarify the timing of it all before I posted that and caused some sort of time rift. :)

In Bloom [HangYourSecrets x megatrash] [18+]

Rob scratched at the sand building under his eyes as he continued to drink his caffeine. By the time Jane had approached, he was about to get up. If i’d be so lucky…

“I, uh, I had a bad trip,” She said. Rob could only nod. Same here, he thought.

Jane, from time to time, was spontaneous, wild, and hard to understand. Other times, such as now, she was being more than obvious. As if the record wasn’t enough, or the apology. Truth was, Rob knew Jane long enough to know she couldn’t stand just accepting that someone was mad at her. Jane had to fix it, and that was a good quality to have under normal circumstances. Normally, Rob could get away from everyone. Take a walk, have a smoke, enjoy some time away from people. Here…he couldn’t go forty minutes.

He looked to Jane’s hand as he held it out to him. She might not have been subtle, but…at least she seemed honest enough. Rob took her hand, playing along with the peace that had been made. Maybe, it wasn’t honest to have done so—Rob was still conflicted. But at least it meant he would try.

“I don’t hate you,” he had said after she seemed to joke that he did. “I’m just…I don’t know. Tired.”

Jane was noticeably cheery as the two approached the van, even bothering Sam with the Basement song he secretly liked. Rob took the opportunity to take another nap, sleeping his way from the mall all the way to El Paso.

---

Time had been good to them when they arrived at El Paso. There was another thirty minutes before load in, and not much to do.

“I’ll take the CD’s over,” he said to the others when they had arrived, before pushing the hoodie off his head and taking off to the trailer before anyone could protest. He picked up one of the boxes of CD’s the band had finished printing just days before the tour, and bolted for the front entrance. He could use the time alone.

At these sorts of festivals, merch was usually handled in two different ways, depending on the size of your band. If you were on that day and you were a big enough band, they’d give you your own merch table to set up, with T-Shirts, CD’s—the whole nine yards. If you were a smaller band (read: In Bloom) and you weren’t selling much, you could get a stack of CD’s over to the festivals proprietary merch table. There’d be too much hassle in passing the money back to the bands, so El Paso’s festival had decided to just offer discounts based on how fell the CD’s sold. The whole system worked different ways in different towns, and Rob wondered if it was even worth the hassle. Who the hell buys CD’s anymore, anyways?

Rob showed off his artist pass at the entrance gate and made his way over to the directed table near the front. As he did, thoughts of the day passed by him, he felt himself visibly cringe at some of the things he had muttered to people in the mall that day. He made a mental note to at least apologize to Sam some time later.

Surprisingly, a small crowd was formed in front of the merch table, completely ignoring the (admittedly much bigger) band that was on before them. The staff worker behind the table saw Rob and seemed to breathe out a sigh of relief, before motioning him to move behind the table with her.

“In Bloom?” she asked as he slid around behind her. Rob patiently set down the box on the ground.

“Yeah?”

The staff worker immediately grabbed the box and about slammed it down on the table, atop some festival T-shirts. The small crowd of festival-goers turned to see the small spectacle.

“They’ve been asking for your CD’s all day,” she said, starting to take money from the nearest fan. “We played a few tracks from your record yesterday after a band decided not to show. Called it a preview until we could rush the next band on stage. Now all I hear is ‘Where’s the In Bloom record?’”

She put on a mocking tone as she said it, and turned to the crowd. “Well, it’s here,” she said, almost to herself. 

While the two had been talking, Rob had watched her sell three of their CD’s already. In the crowd in front of them, Rob noticed a guy look down at his artist pass, then back up to him.

“You’re the drummer, right?” He asked, holding out the CD. Rob nodded, trying to put a good face on. “Could you sign my copy?”

Rob agreed, and quickly signed a copy for the guy, before watching him disappear into the crowd, headed towards the stage. “You’re on at eight, right?” Another person called out in the crowd.

“Yeah, I’ve gotta get back there now,” Rob responded. The interaction with actual fans, not just friends and family, was starting to become exciting. Before he left, Rob signed another four CD’s and was handed $200 from the staffer for finally bringing her a box. The last thing he heard her say as he took the back route to the stage was something about needing more CDs.

---

By the time Rob made it to the stage, load in had already started. He quickly ran over to help Austin, who was struggling with carrying the bass drum.

“About damn time,” he said, panting slightly at the weight of the thing. “Where were you?”

“Signing CD’s,” Rob said, almost shocked to hear the words come out of his mouth. “It was surreal. People were actually buying our shit.”

Austin was not one for much reaction. “Well, we could use some groupies to help move this shit anyways.”

Smiling, Rob helped Austin and the others set up the stage. He returned to the van, and after making sure no one was inside, reached into the back and pulled out his leather-bound journal. He climbed into the back seat and sat on the floor, his back to the door, and hastily began scribbling down what he could. Moments alone were few-and-far between on the road, or so it seemed, and he certainly seemed alone enough. Rob hoped writing down all the endless shit running in his mind about the tour would help him clear his mind. Eventually, the writing turned to Jane, and Rob simply tried to jot down what he thought. Just being able to read the words on the page was comforting enough. After he was satisfied, he closed the book and set it on his lap, hoping for just another five minutes. Even if it was in this hot, closed, black van.