HangYourSecrets

In Bloom [HangYourSecrets x megatrash] [18+]

Rob’s eyes could see little more than the blurred abstraction of the morning haze. The bright lights shining down on him from the windows was so much to take in. And in this moment as he tried to come back to reality, he wasn’t sure if it had been hours or days or even weeks since last he had spoken to Jane.

She permeated his mind even still. In this first moment of waking up, even now, she entered into his thoughts. And as his vision corrected to morning night, as he saw her small form across from him in the chair beside the bed, he was unsure if she was more than an abstraction. If any of this was still truly happening.

She spoke with a deep hesitance in her voice. She seemed to croak with the voice she held after long shows, or soon after she had woken up and said her first words to him in the morning. Rob blinked a few times to try and clear the last of the haze from his mind. What was happening to him? How could everything he ever felt and believed about Jane these past few weeks fade so fast? Why was he feeling so desperate for her again?

His thoughts and his logic failed him again, and he felt, for once in his life, simply in the moment with the woman in front of him.

She confessed her pregnancy next. Something Rob couldn’t truly process as it struck him. The concept of a life within Jane in this moment made so little sense. He would feel so cruel bringing new life into their torn little lives. But the emotions he was feeling in this moment couldn’t be described has he had done so many times before. He couldn’t find a way to process Jane as she spoke as he normally had in the past.

In fact, it had felt like they had become anagrams of each other. Jane was here, acting against her common code—trying desperately to show care through her words. And here was Rob opposite her, simply wanting to hold her. To pull her in close in bed and intertwine their bodies. To make her happy.

And as she admitted her love again, Rob could feel little more than regret for all the pain that had been caused between them. All of the struggles they faced after his rooftop confession. The ephemeral moment they shared as a couple soon afterwards. The complications of so many other variables, the press, the European Tour, Vicarious…the sum total of their tour. His epiphany that he had loved her had fallen so subtly by the wayside in such recent times. And he had tried so recently to fix them—oh had he tried—and in this trying, he had done nothing but push them apart. Push Jane away.

“Jane,” he said, speaking for the first time in the new day. There were a lifetime of words he could say in this moment. Eloquent speeches about how sorry he could be. Long digressions about everything that had come before and everything that could be.

But none of it could ever be necessary in this moment.

“Jane,” he said again, with just a shade of more confidence. He climbed out of the bed and approached her.

She had done what he would have. She had spoken to him in his own language. Now it was his turn to speak hers.

He approached carefully and brushed the hair from her eyes. He pulled her in close and gently pressed his lips into hers. He felt overcome in this moment. And for several seconds, not a single thought passed through his mind. Just feeling her in this moment. The touch. The taste. The sound.

He pulled away—conscious of how forward he had been.

“I’m sorry,” he said, shrinking back just a bit. He perched himself close to her, on the edge of the bed. “I don’t know how for a second, but…I lost myself.”

He could think of little else to say, so he reached his hand out and took hers within it. He rubbed gently at them—-her soft skin against his cracked hands.

“I pushed you away,” he admitted to himself. “I don’t have the right to ask for you back. And I’m probably confusing you by seemingly changing my mind so quickly. I think, even when I said we should break I tried to phrase it some other way. A part of me knew I couldn’t just walk away from this. And I don’t want to.”

He stopped for a moment, looking down.

“I thought because I loved you we needed distance. And maybe we’re supposed to. Maybe that would be the smart choice. But honestly, Jane, fuck it. I just want you.”

His eyes lifted back to hers.

“I don’t want what’s smart or what makes sense. I miss just holding you and knowing that no matter what was happening away from us, it was going to be okay.”

In Bloom [HangYourSecrets x megatrash] [18+]

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. What time was it?

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. How was she feeling? What was she thinking? What does she want?

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.

In Bloom [HangYourSecrets x megatrash] [18+]

After the mental and physical exhaustion of the day, adderall and alcohol were the only things that got Rob through the set.

He had a typical habit about him that proved more than reliable on this night—that, if asked to perform, he would perform his heart out, no matter the consequences to his body.

By the single’s song, the weak wound upon his arm tore once again at the stitches, letting blood pour out again. The blisters on his fingers ripped once more, and none of the sedation in him could prevent him from grimacing at the pain. It was as if he was literally falling apart at the seams.

In front of him, Jane seemed to be suffering in a similar manner. He could only see little more than her silhouette and his own hoodie she wore. For some reason he found it odd she had chosen to wear it. If he had been more sober he might have worried about missing some sort of signal—in the state he was in, he could merely register it.

After the final song ended, Rob tossed the bloody sticks into the crowd and moved up to the mic.

“I don’t know if I’d touch those if I were you,” he said, with just a hint of a slur. The couple that caught the sticks seemed to pay it no mind, thrusting them in the air as if it were a grand prize.

Hey; at least someone was having fun on this tour.

Rob moved off to the side of the stage and made for the green room, grabbing the record and moving outside of the venue to meet his hosts in the agreed-upon spot. He found them soon after, and thanked them for coming. Luckily, he had managed not to bleed upon what was probably a prized possession for the hosts.

On he way back into the venue, he caught a glimpse of a sulking shadow many feet away. He turned his head to look.

In the bitter cold, Jane looked down—her face buried within herself, her small body softly shaking.

He felt himself desperately wanted to move over to her. To hold her close and tell her how sorry he was for what he had done. He had never wanted to ask for distance from her—not truly. But after the wake of what had come out into the press, everyone needed some time to get their own heads on straight. But…maybe he didn’t have to be so cold. Maybe he didn’t have to do this.

But there was no turning back. No reclaiming what he had said. No revoking what had already been done.

He entered the venue and mindlessly helped the band pack up. And luckily, the pills kept him focused enough to remain composed, if only for the night.

—

Rob was deliberately the last of the entourage to board the bus—having taken an hour to bandage his new wounds. Each other member seemed to have gone to bed in exhaustion, with no one member seeming to want to deal with or talk with the others. Save for Lyla, who sat quietly on the couch—legs crossed under her, hands spread across a keyboard.

Rob grabbed a beer and sat down on the floor across from her—not wanting to encroach on her space. He leaned against the cabinets behind and sighed.

“How’ve you been?” Rob tossed out into the air. He wasn’t too sure how else to begin. Not after all that lay before.

Lyla put on a weak smile. “Alright. I’ve got a lot of folks back home concerned about me, but I don’t think they quite understand what’s gone on.”

“I don’t think anyone has,” Rob joked. “If anyone has, then….well they better tell me. I’d like to know.”

Lyla had an odd air of calmness about her. Unlike talking to Austin or Aaron, she was little more than a stranger to Rob—someone that’s comfortable enough for him to talk to more as a confessional than as a friend, while still feeling solace in knowing that they understood where you were coming from.

How often did Jane talk to her?

“So what’s the plan for tomorrow?” Lyla said. “I didn’t think we’d have tomorrow off.”

“Me either,” Rob admitted. He looked over to Grant, who had just pulled the bus out of the venue—the deep rumble of the road fading back in underneath them. A feeling he felt empty without. “Where to, Grant?”

Grant spoke without looking back. “I was going to head straight to Naples. Unless you two had another idea.”

Rob looked up to Lyla, who seemed to be ambivalent. “What would you recommend?” Rob finally asked Grant.

Grant thought for a moment, then spoke: “Florence is a beautiful city. Perhaps it’s selfish of me to say, but I have an uncle that lives there. There’s not many concerts in Florence, so I rarely see him through work.”

“You deserve a break as much as any of us, Grant,” Rob said. “I don’t see any harm in spending the day off in Florence.”

Grant nodded, making a left turn. “I appreciate it.”

Rob’s eyes swerved back to Lyla’s. “Have any relatives in Florence?” He asked lightly.

Lyla shook her head. Rob tried to offer another smile, but could only close his eyes and lean back once more. The adderall was starting to wean away.

“Play something nice, would you?” He asked softly. Even through closed eyes, Rob could tell Lyla moved to dim the lights, then pulled up a Youtube video: it was Pyramid Song by Radiohead—an old favorite of his. He stifled a laugh and turned his head. From his vantage point, he could see the world swirling past in angled, blurred hues.

He let his mind float away with the song’s hypnotic, unconventional tones. And soon he was lulled away to sleep.

There was nothing to fear, nothing to doubt.
There was nothing to fear, nothing to doubt.
There was nothing to fear, nothing to doubt.

—

Morning caught him unconventionally—his back was the first to wake up, seemingly in quiet agony.

His eyes opened to find himself still laying on the floor near the door—his body laying belly-down, his arms and legs blocking the exit of the door from the passengers that had most-likely left.

The low rumble of the bus had faded away. On the couch, no one sat. In the air, all was silent.

Rob couldn’t help but feel a bit embarrassed at his position. The thought of his bandmates finding him like this, essentially having to step over him and hope he was alright—was agonizing enough. Rob didn’t ever want public sympathy. And now, after what had happened between he and Jane, all he wanted was privacy.

He slipped his phone towards his face, and turned on the screen.

One Missed Call From: Zoe

Was it worth calling her back? Why did she call? How was she feeling? Was was Jane feeling, for that matter? The world flooded back into him like air to his lungs.

No. Not today. It was too complicated—too much to think of.

In he end, he decided not to find out if anyone was awake—if it were simply the early morning hours or later in the day. Rob simply pulled himself from the floor, left his cell phone on the table, and walked out of the bus.

—

Florence was nicer that Rob had expected—even after Grant’s friendly words to him. The city here was quiet, and Rob felt no need to find a way to block out the city’s ambience—nor the feeling of being watched. Things were quiet out here.

Rob took the opportunity to slip into a nearby shop and order a coffee—a much-needed pick me up after the night’s vices. He sipped on it absentmindedly until he approached a park.

Rob moved inside and found a nice bench. Here, the leaves of fall were truly into their full swing—the world was moving to the quiet cold of winter, and the last of summer needed to be shaved off. Fallen away.

Rob thought next then of Harold. If he would be worried that Rob had disappeared with no way to contact him. He had probably wanted them to interview at some point today. But at this rate? With he and Jane waiting in the wake of what had just happened? That wouldn’t happen today.

Rob next moved out to a nearby hotel; checking in with the company’s card. After talking with the woman through broken sentences and thick accents, he managed to get a room high above the streets—on the highest floor.

He entered the room soon after—enjoying the clean coziness of it, rather than the sterile cold feeling the last few hotel rooms he had gotten seemed to feel like. Here, the room was decorated with knitted fabrics and green plants. The air seemed scented with a more natural hue. The place felt foreign without so much as feeling too distant. It was perfect.

He moved to the bedroom, stripped off his clothes, and slept.

—

He awoke to the sun beating down upon his face through white curtained windows. His sore body from earlier this morning (or afternoon, he still was not sure) seemed a bit more quelled by the nap he had just taken. He was as close to enjoying this day as he felt he could ever be, given the circumstances. He had been lucky as to not be as plagued with anxiety as he had just hours ago.

He was filled instead with shame and distance. A feeling that he didn’t really want to be with anyone back on the bus. That he just needed this day to himself. To be alone.

And yet, simultaneously, in this loneliness, Rob wanted someone.

No, not someone.

He wanted Jane.

But no.

He couldn’t have her.

Not now.

Not after.

It wasn’t right.

He hesitated for another few moments, before moving to the telephone in the room and dialing a familiar number.

After only two rings, Austin answered: “This better be fucking Rob.”

“I’m alright,” Rob said, cold. “I just needed to get out.”

“Oh my fucking—“ Austin said, seeming to cut himself off. He re-composed. “Look, I get it, we all need some ‘us time.’ But we travel together on the bus for a fucking living. Do you want to go back to working at coffee shops? Do you want your life to be that again?”

“Honestly, Austin,” Rob said, “I don’t really give a shit. Because from right here, right now…it doesn’t really feel like anything will be normal again.”

“Whatever man,” Austin came back cold. “You can go off and have your transient experience but you were face down and shit-faced on the floor this morning. Don’t forget that.”

For a moment, the two were silent. Perhaps Austin regretted being so harsh so suddenly, or maybe Rob was just considering hanging up all together, but either way, Austin cut the silence short.

“Where are you at least?”

“The Convitta Della Calza. Room 208.”

“You mind if anyone visits you while you sulk? You think I should tell Jane?”

Hearing her name out loud stung, in a way. And not because he didn’t want to see her. The opposite was true. But knowing that others knew about what had happened…it wasn’t something he liked to think about.

In fact, he didn’t want to think at all. He wanted Jane over. He wanted to be with her. He wanted to walk around the city, visit odd places, enjoy every moment, fuck in odd places…all of it.

That evening at the Rock N Roll Hall of Fame…how long ago it had been. How much he wanted it.

Even knowing the logical thing to do was to stay away. To not contact her romantically anymore. To solve the problem of their media image before going for the clusterfuck that seemed to be their relationship. Just…ever-growing shards of confusion and miscommunication. Beauty and rage.

“I don’t care,” Rob finally said, answering Austin’s question. How long had he been waiting? How long had he been thinking? “No one come. All of you come. Whatever you want to do, man.”

Rob set the phone down soon after and moved for the balcony in the hotel. A pack of cigarettes clid from his jacket pocket, and he filled the clear air with tar and smoke.

As he had always done.

In Bloom [HangYourSecrets x megatrash] [18+]

Wanted Criminals by The Evens played quietly in Rob’s headphones as he stared out into Venice. The air here was calm, and the rivers that flowed through the city provided a great, relaxing ambience whenever Rob decided to take his headphones off.

He had walked out this way about a mile from the venue—against both the suggestion of Harold to stay low until the interviews happened as well as his better nature.

So much had happened emotionally in the past weeks. So many things had happened that had given him so much grief that all he wanted now was to be outside of his head. So far, the easiest way to do this was simply walk around and fill his ears with any sort of noise. Anything to drown out the racket inside his own head.

Here, he soon realized, he needed a distraction. Not from Jane, but from the whole band entirely. Anything to keep him from letting the part of his mind take over that was probably right.

The part that thought he had just made the biggest fucking mistake of his life.

Without so much as a second thought, he pulled out his phone and sent out a tweet to the world:

Any @InBloom_Band fans hanging out around Venice before the show? PM me.

It was inconspicuous enough, and while he was certain Harold would see it, he could see no harm in it. He could easily play it off as a merch giveaway, when in reality, he just wanted to see what sort of responses would come up.

In five minutes, he sorted through about ten separate offers. A few from men, another couple from women, most suggesting far more than Rob was willing to put up with.

One user seemed friendly enough above the rest, however. The profile picture seemed to show a happy Italian couple, including the message: @Rob_InBloom We’re pre-gaming with a couple of close friends. It would mean the WORLD to us if you stopped by.

Rob looked up as the song ended abruptly, leaving him with the simple Italian air, and the creeping feeling of his own thoughts.

No. He couldn’t turn back from what just happened. Not now.

He typed out: @pseudowax Address?

—

A few minutes of logistics later, Rob found himself in a clean apartment in downtown, sitting across from two very nervous fans. He smiled and thanked them again for the opportunity, making sure to get the obvious photos and signings done so that the group could talk.

As the rest of the group filed into the room, Rob soon began putting names to faces. Smiling and feeling good, being surrounded by so many people that seemed to be fans. Happy people. Willing to put up a stranger because he helps make good music. If Rob thought about it too much, he might have been uncomfortable.

After an hour or so of relentless answered questions, Rob left after taking down their names and promising them stuff signed by the whole band. They were cheery and happy as he walked out.

By the time he stepped back outside into the open air, evening was beginning to fill the air, and Rob knew he needed to get back towards the bus.

He called a cab, arrived quickly back to the Venue (which had nearly been in walking distance), and stepped inside.

He didn’t so much as bother to look around. The quiet inside the bus was more than enough recognition to him that there wouldn’t be much arguing. If he could just manage to leave quickly enough.

Rob pulled out a sharpie and slipped out a copy of the band’s album. He signed it in his usual way (an “RP” hastily written, then circled), and left it on the table with a note: For some fans. Please sign.

He slipped right back outside and made his way back into the venue.

As he opened the door, a knot seemed to form in his throat. A feeling of swelling immediately began to take hold. His chest seemed to cave into itself.

He immediately broke for the restroom, slamming the door behind him.

Tears had already begun streaming down his face, and his body soon began to shake.

He leaned against the wall, trying hard to pull out his phone. He dropped it twice before managing to activate Siri; ignoring the slew of missed calls and texts.

“Call…Aaron,” he muttered. He was surprised he could get that much out. And he could only hope that there was enough time for him to answer before he completely lost control—

“Rob?” Aaron answered. “Where are you? We tried to call you earlier but—“

“Help,” Rob said, in a tone Aaron hadn’t heard in several years.

“Oh fuck,” Aaron responded. “Where?”

Rob didn’t respond.

“Where, Rob?!”

“Venue. Bathroom.”

“I’m coming.”

The phone clicked off, and Rob lowered himself against the tile flooring of the bathroom.

His head seemed to throb to the brink of explosion.

—

Twenty minutes had passed, and Rob was sitting upright again; his hands were wrapped tightly around a water bottle, and Aaron was sitting next to him.

It was the most debilitating panic attack Rob had had since high school. He and Aaron used to have a system in place to deal with such a thing, but years had passed since then. Rob used to have panic attacks weekly then.

Now, it seemed, those were coming back into reality.

“Any idea what it could have been?” Aaron finally asked once it seemed that Rob had had a decent grip on himself.

After a moment, he responded: “I think I broke up with Jane. I didn’t mean to…I think…I didn’t want it to sound like…that…”

“Hey, dude,” Aaron cut him off. “It’s fine. I don’t need all of the details. You’ve been rock solid recently anyways.”

Rob felt anything but rock solid. His moments sitting here on the bathroom seemed to undermine any newfound confidence he had had. Any faith in his own resolve. Here…he felt completely and utterly worthless. 

“You good for the show?”

“We have to play,” Rob muttered almost to himself. “We need to play.”

“If you can’t Rob, it’s ok—“

”I can play, Aaron.”

“…alright then.” Aaron looked down to his watch. “We’ve still got time just take a moment and just breathe, ok? Just breathe…”

—

The blur of the day brought Rob next to find himself exiting the restroom with Aaron close by behind. Out here, Sam and Austin were standing—giving concerned looks, but saying nothing. Rob was thankful, at least, for that.

All of that work he had put into taking the initiative. All of the effort he had taken to resolve things. It all felt so worthless now.

But maybe only to him. Maybe if he could just fake it. Maybe that could work.

Or not. Everything in Rob’s head felt like a fucking blur.

“Hey dude,” Austin said, finally approaching. He handed the now-signed record over to Rob. “We were throwing around the idea of doing the interview today, but after what happened…”

Austin cut himself off. “Nevermind. We’ll just take the days as they come. Harold called and said he told of some of the dates wrong, so tomorrow we have completely off. Naples the day after that.”

“Yeah, sounds great,” Rob said. Both of them talked to each other more like strangers than friends. At this point, Rob felt distance from anyone and everyone.

“Just uh,” Austin continued, feeling the discomfort of the situation, “just let me know if you need anything from me, ok?”

“Yeah, will do, man.” Rob said dryly. As if the words fell limply from his mouth. He turned from Austin and grabbed a beer bottle, downing in it half a minute. He immediately reached for another one.

And then another.

He watched as Sam’s hand intercepted him on the fourth bottle. “Dude,” Sam said, “you still need to play.”

Rob nodded, turning around, and making his way into the green room. He tossed the record down onto one couch and laid down on the other. He reached into his pocket, and pulled out something he had been saving for a long time.

A handful of adderall pills.

He shoved them all into his mouth and swallowed painfully. He could only hope they kicked in before the show.

If he could just make it to the other side of the show…then.

Then he could sleep.

In Bloom [HangYourSecrets x megatrash] [18+]

Rob waited patiently as the rest of the entourage faded from the room—save for Jane, who held back. The earlier moment the two had shared in bed, delaying what was seemingly inevitable for them, had seem to come. Reckoning. At a time where Rob felt like doing nothing but focusing on saving what little public credibility the band members had left.

It was perhaps rather short-sighted of him to try to put off this conversation—for all his growth and change, he still wanted desperately to go off and think on things. To figure out what would be best for them both. But the road bred a certain type of rush to his life—the constant struggle against working in the timeframe given than the timeframe he necessarily wanted to work with.

”If you’re gonna end things, just do it now and get it over with,” the words poured from Jane before she lost composure entirely. It was so painfully fatalistic, but it was honestly the truth that Rob needed to hear from the beginning. The entire preceding tour had been nothing but the ebb and flow of Jane and Rob’s relationship. The collapse of reason and logic to their own emotions. And now, looking at things from his previous mentality—being cold and pragmatic about the future—it seemed so hopelessly futile. Like the entire event had been a massive waste of time, but not necessarily in the way he had expected.

There’s a law in economics called the sunk cost fallacy—something Rob remembered from the haze of high school and history classes. The argument that continuing in a bad investment simply because of the time so far invested is less painful than ending the investment entirely.

Economics and relationships were a world away from each other, but Rob couldn’t help but think on that level of logic—he had been trying to do so ever since his last outburst caused him to need stitches. He wondered if all the nights spent together with Jane would have been worth it if they just agreed to part ways, here and now. Would the schism between Vicarious and them have been worth it in the wake of what they had done together? The loss of Zoe, and Jane’s apparent loss of Andy—all of it? And what about the nights in the mideast Rob had spent in the woods, talking through it all with friends he then-trusted? Was any of that relevant? Would this entire tour be relevant if the group collapsed in the wake of all of these damn press releases?

There was so much to deal with—so many fracture pieces of the whole of the band’s image and sound that needed to be dealt with. And here, in the middle, were two young adults far out of their comfort zone. Turning to each other for solace before immediately regressing into their old ways. Even Rob couldn’t excuse himself of that. Here he was, standing before somebody he truly loved, thinking about the logical outcomes of their proposed separation. Something he had done so many years ago as a defense mechanism against the very issues that had pushed Jane and Rob to this moment, here and now, in a waiting room in Naples. Because for whatever fucked-up reason, it felt better to put a cover of pragmatism over the fact that Rob felt worse in this moment that he had ever felt before. Because here he was with the decision given to him by Jane to make.

“The interview will be fine,” Rob said, scratching at his nape. He knew it wasn’t the first words Jane probably wanted to hear from him following her own confessional, but it was what he had. Business first. And not only business, but the easiest problem to solve. If anything, this would buy him that much more time to think. “I guess we’ll just have to say it all. There won’t be anything left for them to pick at if we just come clean with everything. No matter how shit that’s going to be.”

Rob let out a thick sigh. Now for the main event,” he thought coldly in his mind.

“I love you,” he began. “I just…I just want you to know that. I care about you, and no matter what we decide, don’t you dare think what I told you a few days ago was a lie. Because it wasn’t. I love you.”

Rob sat down from his then-standing position, placing a hand to his face. He averted his eyes from her.

“…but I don’t know if we can keep doing this.”

The words pierced his own heart as he said them. Words he knew to be true to himself but words he never wanted to say aloud.

“We’ve been everywhere on this tour. But it always seems to fall apart each time to put the pieces together again. And who knows? Maybe we just need to come clean in this interview about all of this shit. Maybe that will help. But I’m just…I’m tired of feeling like I’m in a cycle.”

Rob looked back up to her—his eyes welling up with emotion, but every part of him begging himself not to cry. Tears could not help him. Nor would they help her. “A few days ago, we were completely comfortable with each other? Now? I hardly know where you were at the last two days. And the same is true of me. And it just hurts to feel like we’re constantly trying to figure this own while…and I really don’t want to fucking say it but…the others get neglected for it.”

Rob could feel his heart pounding in his chest. The final gasp of his dying emotions he had chosen to suppress in this moment. Because in this moment, he had to approach this logically. Which meant nothing but pain for everyone involved.

“I want to be with you Jane. I’ve wanted it for years and I didn’t even know it. But we owe it to Sam and to Austin…to Aaron and Lyla and Harold and Vicarious and everyone else we’ve put in this position…to be a band again. And maybe that means we need to be honest with each other first, before being intimate again. And until we can be honest…”

Rob stopped himself. He wasn’t willing to say it.

“Let’s fix this. For them. Maybe through that we’ll be honest with each other again.”

Rob looked down to the stitches in his arm. “Because what’s working right now…it just isn’t.”

Rob could almost feel himself break with his last words.

He had laid it all out. Now all he could do was wait.

In Bloom [HangYourSecrets x megatrash] [18+]

Rob couldn’t manage to get a decent night’s sleep if he tried.

It was always the same—the instantaneous fallout into a deep sleep, then the light semi-sleep state he seemed to dwell in for the rest of the night.

He had finally begun to accept that the day was beginning, when he felt Jane’s body rolling over as well, positioning herself to where she could clearly see Rob. And from the look on her face, she was definitely feeling as shitty as he was. The stresses of the tour, as always, seemed to be taking a deadly toll.

His mind was lost in a fog, in the moment—her words falling on his ears as they had so many times, but he somehow found himself not thinking so much. Not processing her emotions as they came to him. The way he had always done before, perhaps, felt much less apparent in the present moment. He had been quickly pulled aside by her only moments after accepting the day had begun, and already here was another slew of apologies.

Was he cruel for thinking so? Probably so. He couldn’t hardly blame Jane for taking the time for apologizing—he was thankful for it, in all honesty. But the consistently of a morning wakeup call—the quick apologies just after the haze of the night, in sleep or in wait, felt so very tired to him regardless.

It was too much. That much he was sure of. Too much for him to think of now, when his mind wandered so little in this moment. It only wanted catharsis. A moment of escape. Refuge to anything other than this moment.

And yet, that was the same as what Jane had done. What she had given to him yesterday. For him to be so mad at her for this, and wanting to leave, was also the very thing that had gotten him mad in the first place.

He couldn’t just walk away from this—no matter how hard he wanted to. And she was, in fact, approaching him. Maybe in a way he wasn’t the biggest fan of—but in her own way nonetheless.

And through it all, he still loved her.

That much was enough to fight his bitter nature.

Without so much as a word, Rob slipped forward, towards Jane, and pulled her close to him. He laid back down onto his back, gently maneuvering her body atop his.

“Hey,” he whispered, “You can’t go back. Neither of us can. The best we can do is deal with what’s been done.”

Simple words with little more meaning than the sum of their parts, perhaps, but it was what Rob had to offer her.

“Let’s try to start this over, alright?” Rob said. He glanced at the time on his phone, before turning back to her. “We’ve got thirty minutes until we really should be getting up. Let’s just, relax, alright? Thirty minutes of quiet. Then we’ll deal with whatever the fuck’s on the other side of this curtain.”

It felt like a decent compromise; the soft spot between his new-found drive to fix the damage that had been done, and his fight-or-flight response telling him that laying in bed was surely the safest option. Plus, he just gave himself what he always felt like he lacked—more time.

Rob wrapped his arms around Jane and closed his eyes again.

And this time, if only for a few minutes, Rob slept soundly.

—

An hour later, most of the band’s entourage sat comfortably in a waiting room in Vienna. The venue here was stark and cold—the walls seeming as if they had never heard music within them, even if it were false. Crumbled papers labeled “Vicarious - Waiting Room” sat in the trash. Tonight would be a solo show.

Rob fiddled with his coffee (his second that morning already) and stared blankly into the conference phone as Harold walked the group through what was happening stateside:

“It’s bad, but maybe it’s fixable,” Harold said. If Rob had done the math in his head correctly, it was most likely late at night for Harold. “Rob, thanks for that press release. I never got a chance to tell you. It definitely bought us some time to think.”

“Yeah,” Rob said, staring into the brown liquid. “I’m no poet.”

“You don’t have to be,” Harold said. “It worked fine.”

There was silence in the room before he continued.

“I got in touch with Vicarious, but they’re not giving me any clear answers. So, for the time being, we’re going to be following them, one day behind. They’ll play in Naples tonight while you play in Venice. Tomorrow, you’ll play in Naples while they play in Rome. You’ll play Rome while they play Monaco, and so on. Until I get further word from them, that’s what I’ve told the Venues to do. We’re playing on schedule, so we’re not interrupting any other bands, but since Vicarious is ahead of us a day, they seemed to be sharing a few of their setlists with other local acts.”

“You think they’ll be alright with it?” Lyla asked.

“I don’t think it’ll last,” Harold said, “but I don’t think they’re going to come back onto the set as scheduled. As for us, we need to make a press appearance.”

“I don’t know what the fuck you want us to say, dude,” Austin cut in. He fiddled with his own drink—a beer. “We’re not trained for this shit. We don’t know what you want from us.”

“Then play that up if you have to,” Harold said. “Say that this is all new to you. That all you really want to do is play music. Rob started that angle, and I intend to stick with it, for now.”

Rob’s eyes scanned the room to Jane. Her eyes seemed tired, but he wasn’t sure what else she had been thinking of since this morning. 

“Did you schedule an interview?” Rob asked, still looking to Jane.

“Not until I figure it out with you guys,” Harold said. “Look—clearly there’s been some shit happening over there. I get that. I’m not going to get mad about what’s out there, because they’re nothing that I can do about it. But what I can do is make sure we’re all on the same page from now on. That’s why we’re all meeting now. So?”

Rob looked around to his bandmates. For all his forward thoughts on what they should do, the idea of another interview petrified him. He opted to simply sit and wait—and hope somebody else spoke for him.

In Bloom [HangYourSecrets x megatrash] [18+]

Rob heard Jane’s soft approach, and felt her form sit down beside him, but he couldn’t really bring himself to turn to her.

He had figured that someone would have approached sooner or later. Their set was in just moments, and he had been the one to argue for the show to go on. Either with or without Jane. He had been pretty confident she would’ve come back (as she did), but couldn’t really feel much solace for it. In face, he wasn’t feeling much of anything at the moment. Just the cool air against his skin and—now—Jane’s head resting atop of him.

She soon requested her usual—silence and contact. Feeling each other—being with each other, without so much of a discussion. As mutual understanding. Rob tried to fight off the feeling that Jane should’ve known better. Knowing he would be mad at her departure, only to return and ask that no words be said between them.

So he obliged her. The two never said a word after hers, and they simply sat together—their minds surely apart. Rob thought only of the issues he would need to deal with that night, on the bus. The phone calls to Harold. Organizing an interview. Figuring out which steps to take going forward. He was mad at himself for his own actions; his indecision, his hair-trigger temper, his outbursts…

He felt like a child thinking of things he had done so commonly for so long. Perhaps this morning was an epiphany. Maybe slicing your arm open made you realize that you needed a mental change. Or maybe not.

Rob looked down to his arm at the stitches and grimaced slightly. Regardless of what the doctor said, he was sure the set tonight was going to hurt.

—

He found himself in the bathroom about ten minutes later, cleaning up before set. A cigarette hung loosely from his lips; the last of the pack he had only purchased hours ago. Through the haze and into the mirror Rob could see his own reflection; long hair tucked underneath a beanie, straggling hairs hanging from his beard that gave him more the appearance of an indie folk band than anything else. Stark grey lines stricken beneath bleary eyes.

He might have looked better than the last time he had really looked at himself, but he was certainly showing signs of the fatigue from the day. Shockingly enough, his morning retreat with the fans had still happened only hours ago—after the interview that warned him of the incoming bullshit.

A part of him wanted to call Madeline and ask her for some advice. Maybe since she knew, she would know what to do. But as always, a stagehand interrupted his thoughts with a knock at the door—the band had already delayed ten minutes more than they should have, and had an especially long set by behest of the venue, in order to cover losses from the cancelled tickets. Whether most or only some of the concertgoers had pulled out in the wake of Vicarious’ cancellation, it was only to be seen after the show.

Rob walked out from the bathroom, immediately grabbed a beer from the craft table, and walked out onto stage to considerable applause. It was strange how the group approached the stage now—one at a time, each with their own little moment in the spotlight. Perhaps soon enough, they’d need a blackout and a big entrance. Or a large curtain drop. The logistics of which made Rob nauseous at the thought.

The bright lines cast large flares of light into his eyes. He couldn’t truly make out any of what was around him, but could see Jane’s familiar form in front of him. Her head was turned towards him with a familiar, slight tilt.

He blinked twice and looked back down to fiddle with his kit. He needed to scavenge up every ounce of energy he had left, and a come-to-Jesus-meeting with Jane on stage was not part of the plan. At least, not now.

Maybe it was a little fucked up, but she did ask that they didn’t discuss this. It would be hard to accuse him of the silent treatment when both of them were expected to perform—right here, right now.

Rob tapped off the high hat once Sam started the show to give him a beat, and the four took off yet again.

—

Towards the end of the setlist, Rob had just about given his all. Slight dribbles of blood oozed from his stitches, down his hands and onto the kit. It wasn’t the first time he had bled on his kit, and he was surprised no one had gotten a clear shot of it from the press pit. The drier part of him laughed at the thought of younger drummers thinking it was “metal” of him.

The song soon stopped suddenly. Rob looked up from his little moment of fervor to see Jane stumble through a fan participation event.

A cover up, for how her voice had given out moments earlier.

Rob tried to keep up a good face; softly playing the main groove of the single to keep up the energy instead of dropping out completely. He looked to Austin, and used a nod to count him back into the fold. He followed suit, managing to play four tones that matched the key of the song. The two locked into a sort of quiet, filler-beat, that played off as the fan was walked to the stage by a clearly-perturbed security officer.

Rob couldn’t help but crack a light smile as he and Austin seemed to prove their own reputation as a solid rhythm section—holding back just long enough for Sam to set the new fan up onto the mic, and—with a few well-placed drum fills—counting the song directly back in as if Jane had never stopped.

Once the single finally came to an end, Rob ended the song with three distinct crashes (as opposed to his usual style of a drawn-out conclusion), and climbed forward, over the set and to the center stage. He gestured emphatically at the fan, who seemed to be nearly crying as the crowd roared in applause. Truth be told, she killed it.

Then, he Sam and Austin waved one more time, before taking the fan and slipping backstage without another word.

“Holy shit, dude!” Austin said to the fan. “You’ve got some pipes, I’ll give you that.”

The fan introduced herself, thanking them dearly all the while. Rob moved over to the craft tables and grabbed two beers—handing one to the girl.

“I don’t know what drinking age is here,” he said, “but you earned it.”

For the next twenty minutes, the remaining members of In Bloom took the time to thank the fan, meet with her friends back in the crowd, and take any and all selfies required. It was almost this sort of mutual agreement between them—their public image needed some vast improving, and if just one blog would run an ad about how happy they just made this girl, it might help. It wasn’t so much that it was ingenue of them, but more so that they knew they needed to try.

Afterwards, the three of them helped out in silence with Lyla and Aaron (Lyla again having to help Rob wrap gauze around his arm), and the group was back in the bus just in time for Grant to turn it on.

Just before they entered, however, Rob slipped over to the back of the bus and grabbed a few of their own records—probably their fifth pressing since beginning the tour. He moved inside with them, having Sam and Austin sign a few (Jane was nowhere to be seen), and he moved back outside again to the stragglers waiting near their bus. He happily handed out the copies he had, and thanked them again for coming out to the show.

He returned to the bus, spent. He collapsed onto the couch with a heap.

“If that doesn’t improve our image,” he muttered to Sam and Austin, “I fucking give.”

“That’s pretty much the last of that batch of records,” Aaron said. “I’m going to have to call Harold again to put in a new order.”

“How many times has that happened?” Rob asked. The logistics of both Aaron and Lyla’s job had both been wasted on him during the last few weeks.

“Almost every other show, now,” Aaron said. “I have to limit shirt and record sales for every show just so we have enough for the next one.”

“Holy shit,” Sam muttered to himself. It seemed that they were all taken aback by the news.

“If this is Europe, man,” Austin said, “How’s the last US tour gonna be?”

“One continent at a time,” Rob said, peeling himself off of the couch. “We’ve got bigger things to worry about right now.”

Rob slipped back towards the bathroom without a word—pulling off an article of clothing with each step. He could hardly manage to stay awake in the shower. With each minute he cranked the water heat higher and higher, until the only reason he was awake was due to the scalding water.

He climbed out soon after, drying himself off, and moving with a towel to his bunk.

Inside, he found Jane; her small body nuzzled into a corner of his bed.

His first thought was immediately to climb into her own bed. To find some time to sleep by himself. But the more he thought of it, the less of a good idea that seemed.

He loved her. That much was true. He had told her that what already seemed like so long ago. Because it was the honest truth. The other honest truth was, just because he loved her didn’t make him happy with her. Not at this moment.

Too tired to think and too weary to contest any more, Rob dropped the towel to the floor and climbed into his own bunk, and shut the curtain.

He pulled Jane close to him, got comfortable, and fell asleep in moments.

Maybe it would work out. Who knew?

At this point, he just needed to survive each day as it came. Hopefully he and Jane could work something out by then.


In Bloom [HangYourSecrets x megatrash] [18+]

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. What could he say? 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. …what were we thinking?”

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:

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

—

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.

Fuck me, right? 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.




In Bloom [HangYourSecrets x megatrash] [18+]

Rob and Austin climbed into the cab, but before Rob could tell the driver the way back to the lot, Austin slipped forward to him.

“Take us to a nice coffeeshop,” he said suddenly. The driver nodded, and the car pulled off of the curb.

Before Rob could ask, Austin turned to him:

“I mean, come on. You’ve got to be tired of drinking beer at ten in the morning.”

“Alright, alright.” Rob said, leaning back. Spending time with Austin was probably for the best. His relationship with Jane had already improved so much, it was only fair to try and make amends with each person in the group. He had no idea how long the feeling would last.

On the way, Rob pulled out his phone and snapped a picture of the two of them. After talking to the driver, he put it on Instagram with the caption:

Me and @Austin_Hull are hitting up Caffe Amouri Coffee Roaster in Vienna. Come on out if you’re already awake and waiting for the show.

“If I’m going to get ambushed by fans,” Rob said, “then it’s going on my terms.”

Austin couldn’t help but laugh, and the two continued talking all the way to the shop.

Once they got inside, Rob and Austin were greeted by a sizable group that had gathered in the past ten minutes. Rob and Austin took turns shaking hands and ordering coffee, and soon they had dragged a few tables around and hung out with the dozen or so people. Another ten or so filed in as they waited, and the two band members made sure to sign any merch placed in front of them.

It was a nice experience, to say the least. Rob’s impromptu experiment had worked, and for good reason. Aside from interviews, Rob—and to some extent, the rest of the band—hadn’t made any effort to be accessible to the fans. Part of it was the stress of the road, but the other half seemed to be little more than negligence. Meetings like this—with twenty people or so, that he could learn the names of—were much more comfortable than confrontations outside of the tour bus.

A half hour later, many of the fans had gone off, promising to be at the show. Rob and Austin both took names down to get the fans some free stuff that night at the show, and after taking some photos, had about wrapped up the meetup.

“Maybe that’ll help with our ‘press problems,’” Austin joked to Rob as the two made their way outside. “Still dunno what the fuck that Madeline girl was on about.”

A part of Rob wanted to pull out his phone to check and see what the news had been saying about them recently, but the better half of him argued against it. It was only depressing to him to see—rumor mills churning out noise about Jane, along with some people still on about Rob’s radio blowup back in the states. He had avoided it a while ago, but the buzzing in his pocket forced him to pull out the phone regardless.

1 New Voicemail from Jane

Rob listened to it as he and Austin waited for a cab to arrive. By the time the voicemail ended and Rob climbed into another cab, his happier mood had already faded.

“What’s up?” Austin asked, seeming to have noticed.

“I don’t know yet,” Rob said, pulling out his phone, “but it’s not good.”

Of course it couldn’t last, Rob thought to himself. It never could. He braced himself for whatever was about to come up. What could it be this time? More nudes? No….he doubted that. And felt bad for even assuming. Maybe it was something with Vulture back in the states? No…Jane wouldn’t apologize for that.

It wasn’t until the image of Jane and Andy locked together that Rob realized what Jane had apologized for.

Rob felt his skin start to boil immediately—his face rushed with blood, and he couldn’t do anything more than stare at the screen.

“Rob,” Austin said, having looked over to the phone. “Breathe man. You’re gonna pop a blood vessel.”

Slowly letting some air out, Rob scrolled down to see more news. In fact, Variety seemed to have a new exclusive, posted no more than ten minutes ago.

“Well, it can’t be any worse than that, right?” Rob heard Austin say next to him but he couldn’t bring himself to say anything. He wanted to scream. Right then and there, he wanted to yell until his vocal chords fried. Why couldn’t things be normal for just one fucking day?

His phone loaded up the Variety article, with the headline:

In Bloom members living Vicariously through their co-headliner.

Scrolling down, Rob could see the newest image of Jane and Andy together, but even more was to come. Below, several more images appeared; these, with himself in them.

First, and image of him and Zoe out on the park bench, yelling to each other. The day they had broken things off.

Next, an image of Rob confronting the fan outside of the bus a few days ago. The image was less than flattering—with Rob waving his hand as her as the fan was taken away, screaming.

Than, a picture of Aaron helping Rob into the bus after his drunken night. Rob looked kneeled over in this photo, mid-vomit, for all the world to see.

The article was even more damning—a long piece on the ballad of Rob and Jane. About how Jane was living it up with Andy while Zoe supposedly dumped Rob, leaving him in a downward spiral.

Suddenly, a new text message popped up on screen.

10:25AM, Zoe: We need to talk about this.

Rob watched as the messaged again, and stared blankly at his screen. The entire ride back, neither member said a word. Once the cab had parked, Rob exited and walked directly away from the busses. From the venue, and from anything else that threatened to make this any worse.

He had made his way down an alleyway close-by, heading Austin’s footsteps following. Soon, as he was passing a pile of garbage near a dumpster, he felt Austin’s hand atop his shoulder.

“Rob—“ Austin managed to get out.

Finally, Rob snapped.

”FUCK!” Rob roared, and immediately slammed his fist over and down into the nearest trash bag. It exploded on impact.

”Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” he roared, over and over again. He continued to beat the ever-loving shit out of the garbage in front of him. Soon enough, he punched his was through a glass bottle with his left hand, and immediately saw blood pouring from his arm. He grabbed it with his free arm, slamming his back against the wall and sliding down it, sitting on the asphalt.

Austin approached after a moment—silently tearing the bottom off of his old My Morning Jacket shirt and tying it around Rob’s bleeding wrist.

”Hey,” Austin said forcefully, locking eyes with Rob. ”Breathe. You need to breathe, man.”

Rob nodded, but said nothing. In his mind, everything he, Andy, Jane, and Zoe had done was now public to the world.

And for the most past, a lot of that was true.

“Seriously, dude,” Austin said. “We can discuss this later. But you need stitches. Now.”

—

Thirty minutes passed quickly enough, and Rob watched as the doctor loaded the last of the stitches into his forearm. Twelve in total.

“It was a clean cut,” the doctor said in a heavy accent. “It should heal quickly enough. We’ll give you a shot of antibiotics, just in case.”

“Can I play tonight?” Rob muttered through clenched teeth.

“I don’t recommend it,” he said. “Not at all. But…you should be able too. It did not cut any serious muscles for your wrist.”

“Thank god,” Austin muttered from his chair in the corner. The doctor soon excused himself and stepped out of the room once he finished.

“Any word from the others?” Rob managed to ask. The stitches had certainly taken the edge off of his anger, but he still didn’t dare look at the phone burning a hole in his pocket. He had felt it vibrate multiple times, but couldn’t bring himself to look at it.

“Harold’s still assembling a game plan,” he said. “He still wants us to play but we’re instructed not to breathe a word about anything. Just play the set and leave. He’s not happy.”

“Vicarious?” Rob asked.

“I think they’re pulling out for tonight,” he said. “But I’m not sure. Harold can’t even reach them. It’s pretty much….pretty much on us to get in touch with them.”

Rob nodded, his head nearly pulsing from the stress. All he wanted right now was to be away from all of this. But…not quite completely.

He wanted to be with Jane. He couldn’t quite explain it. He wasn’t exactly happy with her—in fact, he wasn’t sure if he was really angry at her or not. But all he wanted was to be with her.

All he wanted more than anything right here, right now, was just to be with Jane.

It was what drove him to leave the hospital, picking up a cab and riding with Austin back to the lot.

It was was drove him to suck up the courage to open the door into the tour bus.

And as he did so, he had no idea how he was about to react to any of it.

He wasn’t sure how he felt about Jane’s continued fling with Andy, or the press release about it. Or how the press seemed to think Zoe had cut ties with him, instead of the reality of it being the other way around. Or how he felt about going one more day on this insane, bat-shit crazy tour.

He had no idea what he was going to say. Or who he was going to be angry at. Or who he was going to forgive.

He had no idea at all.

In Bloom [HangYourSecrets x megatrash] [18+]

Two Days Later…

Vienna was a gorgeous city.

They had arrived here late that previous evening, just in time to see the sky paint the white buildings in a thick glow, before fading completely. Now that light had returned with the new day, the whites and reds of the city seemed even more vibrant than before.

Rob had watched from the bus window as security escorted their’s and Vicarious’ bus behind the venue, locking two large gates behind them. It was curious, that the security seemed so much more real to him now. Whether that was due to the incident a few days ago, or simply due to the city, he wasn’t really sure.

This morning, Rob stood alone in the bathroom sometime around six-thirty. He was first up, not being able to sleep much longer. He looked at his reflection, and for the first time in a while, wasn’t disappointed in what looked back at him.

Things had greatly improved in simply two days. Rob had spent every moment of those two days back with In Bloom, either hanging out with the other guys, or spending the quiet evenings with Jane. There was a familiar normality that had settled in so quickly between then. Almost as if the two had allowed themselves to return to the way things had used to be, without sacrificing what had already happen. Sure, tons of things remained to be seen or answered; Vicarious, for instance, was a huge question mark. Jane’s relation specifically to Andy worried him if he thought too much about it, but he tried not to. He had the confidence in Jane not to worry too much about when she left alone, and filled his time with the other band members to help ease his own anxieties.

His curbside confessional had left him feeling much more at ease in the current situation, even though something felt off. Nothing on this tour remained for long. Each event seemed to carry into the next—each rise followed by it’s own fall. Their own celebrity, for instance, continued to grow. Harold had talked about it a bit on a phone call the two had together—about how the single had switched from underground to mainstream alternative radio stations. About how, when it came to fame, it only multiplied itself. “Fame is it’s own catalyst,” Harold said. Rob was sure he was quoting someone, but he had no idea who. Harold, no doubt, was enjoying his own connection to the band stateside, so had likely surrounded himself with others of his own ilk. He had already hinted at such a thing a few days ago, when he talked about hiring on a second hand to help with their already momentous finances.

In short, the band seemed to be getting money hand-over-fist, which wasn’t exactly a good thing. Rob had already had two extended family members call his number asking about funding on personal projects, and about a dozen more sending him messages over social media. The entirety of that concept through Rob off alone, even if he could afford to help them out. The truth was, Rob wasn’t sure exactly how much they had earned. Harold was constantly vague about it. Last he heard, it was “somewhere near six figures” for each of the band members, depending on how the last stretch of the American tour went once they finished in Europe.

The European tour, at least, seemed to be wrapping up into a climactic end. They had little over two weeks or so left—enough time to work their way over to Italy, then through to Spain, before sharply cutting upwards, through France and finishing in the United Kingdom. Afterwards, it was stateside again.

The prospect of leaving Europe came with mixed feelings—Rob felt both in tune with what was happening, and simultaneously separated from the worst of things. The small connection the band had formed with their fans over social media—and specifically their personal Instagram accounts—was shockingly huge. He could only wonder what would happen once they returned. But a small part of him was happy that Vicarious would be going their separate ways from them at the end of this. Too much bad blood was forming; yet another of the many things Rob feared would turn sour. That, and the feeling he got that the media was yet to be done with him.

Soon, a knock came at the door, interrupting his mental tangent. He opened it to find Austin at the other end. His eyes were nearly shut from sleep, and he looked far less aware than Rob was at the current surroundings. Well, at least he was awake. The two of them had booked an early morning radio interview that they needed to be at in about thirty minutes.

“Done jerking off in there?” Austin muttered in his usual sarcasm. “I need to shower.”

“Yeah,” Rob said, getting out of the way. He went and waited in the main living room of the bus, and turned on some music as he waited. Linus Spacehead by Wavves played on in the background, reminding him of the days he and Austin sat around at his place, smoking and talking about anything and everything. Soon enough, Austin came back outside, and the two got in a cab and made their way to the radio station.

On the way, the architecture of the buildings surrounding them was hard to ignore. Each structure around them seemed so intricately crafted, so completely made, it was hard not to admire it. The cab ride was mostly silent, save for a few questions from their driver.

Finally, the two arrived, and sat down with nice enough seeming girl, Madeline, who welcomed them warmly before starting up the interview.

Madeline: Hello and welcome back to Vienna’s number one choice for alternative! In the studio today, we’ve been lucky enough to get the newest band on the scene, In Boom! Here representing the band is bassist Austin Hull and drummer Rob Pennie. How’s the road been, boys?

Rob: Long. Hard. But mostly just surreal.

Austin: It’s definitely a lifestyle change.

Madeline: I can believe it. In Bloom was the biggest band of the summer, and now that we’re moving into fall, it seems like you’re not stopping anytime soon.

Rob: We’re touring through the rest of Europe, then back over to the Americans that missed us.

Austin: Pretty much everyone’s had a chance to see us. At least on this side of the world.

Madeline: The tour seems to have had some stressful and highly profile events taking place. Could you talk about that?

Rob: [laughs] I’m assuming you’re referring to me.

Madeline: Amongst other things, but sure.

Rob: Look, I mean—we’re just trying to get our heads on straight after our world blew up. It’s been long and mistakes were made. I’m not going to condone all the shit we’ve pulled during this run, but I think overall, it’s been pretty great.

Austin: Listening to Rob blow up is basically comical when you get to know him. Fucker just sits around and thinks the whole time. We can’t ever get him to leave the tour bus!

Madeline: Fair enough, fair enough! Typically the rhythm section gets much less press than you both have had. For example, Vicarious, your supporting act.

Rob: We’re co-headlining this tour.

Madeline: I’m sure, but to be honest, it doesn’t seem to be that way. At least, not here in Vienna. All the posters have In Bloom listed as the headliner.

Austin: I’m sure Vicarious would be pissed about that. But usually, we’re all too strung out on the road to care.

Madeline: Let’s chat about Vicarious for a second. There’s been some interesting stuff going around between the relationship, or, relationships, between your two bands. Care to comment?

Rob: It’s a tour. We see each other so much, it can hurt. But there’s really not much to talk about. We’re all pretty good friends at this point.

—

Soon enough, the interview moved to a few lighter topics, and wrapped up after another ten minutes.

Afterwards, Madeline shook both of their hands and walked with them to the front steps of the building.

“Just a head’s up,” she said. “Word’s going around about something big breaking about In Bloom. I don’t like to fuck up interviews with rumors but…just be aware.”

Rob shot her a quizzical look. “Thanks?” He nearly asked.

“Keep a lower profile,” she said. “That’s all I’m saying. Have a good one.”

She turned quickly and disappeared back into her studio, leaving Rob and Austin to their own devices.

“The fuck was up with that?” Austin asked moments later.

Rob wasn’t sure, but it sure did worry him. There was definitely enough substance to spread rumors about. But until he figured out exactly what was going on with Jane and Andy, he didn’t feel like interfering. He had cut off his ties on his own. Jane and Rob had only just mended things. Perhaps it was best to let her sort it out.

Rob stood on the curb with Austin, waiting for the cab with the two security guards the studio was kind enough to offer up. At this point, he had had more than enough fame for one day. The only thing he wanted was to get back on the bus and spend the day with Jane. In fact, after the confession, it’s pretty much all he wanted to do. 

Hopefully she’d be there. Hopefully, whatever Madeline was off about didn’t matter.

They just needed to finish this damn tour.