The Now or Never Kind

When our set was over, we did our usual thing of not bothering with stairs and backstage and whatnot before talking to people: we simply jumped off the front of the stage. Listening to people talk was easy, and the half-smile I reserved for fan pictures was just as simple, but being enthusiastic about being there was difficult.

Or rather, enjoying the fact that the show was over and I had to go back to the bus at some point was hard. Practically impossible.

The stream of people wanting to talk to me seemed to last forever, and most of them wanted to know why the hell I ran away. Someone actually used those words, and I politely told them to fuck off. I did explain to the nice ones, however, that I was fine and nothing horrible had happened. Outside of my head, anyway.

"Every Avenue's joinin' us in th'bus f'r drinks," Sean informed me when I got a moment to breathe. By that time, the place was almost empty and everyone else had begun taking down equipment. He placed a hand on my shoulder. "Yeh don' 'ave to if yeh don' want."

"Well, I don't want to be antisocial," I said with a shrug before heading to help Matt with his kit. "Plus, apart from a headache, I'm fine."

"Right, I believe that," Matt said sarcastically, loosening the bolts on his ride cymbal and sliding it off the stand. I shushed him shortly and picked with the snare to put it in the travel case. "Ange—"

"Don't start, Matthew." I glared him, receiving a taken aback look in return. But I wasn't really mad at Matt. I sighed, continuing to work. "Sorry. I'm still a little wiggy."

He nodded, and we lapsed into silence for a few minutes as we put away his drums and cymbals. When we finished, we began carrying everything out to the trailer. "What happened?"

I contemplated silently how to explain it, if I even wanted to tell him about Danny. I wasn't even sure myself how it had happened, except that maybe I was more stressed out that I thought I was. So I gave the simplest answer I could. "Mackenzie called this morning."

"Great," he muttered, helping me with the bass drum. "What's the news?"

"Didn't give me any. She woke me up—you know how I get—and got pissed when I pointed out that she only calls when something's catastrophically wrong." I shoved the heavy case back and took a deep breath. "And then I hung up on her."

Matt grinned. "Well, good for you."

Obviously what set me off wasn't my stepmother or her phone call. This reminder suckerpunched me in the teeth when we returned to the bus and my rage flared up instantly at the sight of Danny and the others.

In that moment I knew a few things: 1. None of the guys knew we'd slept together (though, honestly, what did they think we were doing?). 2. Nobody outside of my band knew I'd had a massive anxiety attack barely an hour prior. 3. I needed a drink. 4. Danny was really angry with me. And last and most importantly, I knew exactly how to pin him under my thumb and drive him insane.

I'd ignore him.

I smiled brightly at everyone. "Someone get me a fucking drink."

By the time I decided to go to bed, I was just a bit tipsy, but I had done excellently in my plan. I had spent years ignoring people's existences, and not the "I'm ignoring you, look at me ignoring you" way. Genuinely blocking someone out of your life.

In doing so I hung out with Jimmie and Seth and watched Josh, on his own slow descent to being wasted, encourage Didi to drink more. Our young Irish friend, completely dissimilarly to her enabler, had almost no alcohol tolerance and was gigglingly drunk within two beers. I wasn't surprised when they disappeared—"walking her back to the other bus," Josh said. After all, they'd been cuddling in the corner for the better part of the night.

So I gathered up my clothes and bedtime items in a much better humour than I had been, but it only lasted until I got to the bathroom and caught sight of myself, half-undressed, in the mirror. I was covered in bruises and bite-marks, trailing down my torso from my shoulders down into my jeans. The worst were the purple very-obviously-finger-shaped marks on my hips and a perfect ring of teeth on my shoulder.

Stomach churning, I quickly covered myself up. I didn't even want to look at the rest of me, especially after I lay down in my bunk and had to adjust several times so I wasn't in pain.

The next day I wasn't in either extreme of disposition. I was still pissed off, but I didn't want to waste the energy grumping around. I felt better, but I didn't want to talk to anybody. So I sat in the corner with my hood up, my headphones in, and my sketchbook on my knees.

It was going to be a long day off.

Living on a bus with eight guys, most of whom were attention-whores, made it difficult to not talk or be social, but it occurred to me a few hours into the drive that I didn't have to ignore everyone. So when Jesse asked if I was coming to get food when we stopped, I hopped up and followed him. When Ryan asked if they could watch TV, I said sure.

Of course, it ticked Danny off to no end, seeing as he'd asked me the same things and I hadn't even given sign that I'd heard him. In addition, he'd been sighing and rolling his eyes at me all morning, crossing his arms and muttering; he tapped his foot incessantly, staring at me with his lips pursed. I tried not to smile at his huffing and puffing like the Big Bad Wolf. I had an impenetrable shield of a poker face and he wasn't even making a dent.

Of course, I had to admit that the flaw in ignoring someone was that a lot of your attention was devoted to their reaction. So in a way, I wasn't overlooking him acting like a petulant brat; I was giving him exactly what his egotistical douchey neediness wanted.

It wasn't until the afternoon that I got drawn out of my head and into the world around me. I hadn't asked what Ryan wanted to watch, and to be honest I didn't really care, but after a while, Danny and Matt yelling at the screen and the rest of the Audition groaning and complaining got distracting. I leaned my head against the back of the couch to peer around Seth's head at the screen.

Hockey. You guys are such bros, I commented in my head, going back to doodling. But my eyes kept wandering away from the page and fixing on the plasma screen for a few minutes before I jerked myself out of it and pretended I hadn't been watching.

Half an hour later, I had set my sketchbook on the floor and had my chin propped up in my hands. I had figured out the basic rules—as well as which team wouldn't get me murdered for supporting—but I was more interested in the fights (which were basically the only thing the majority of the Audition paid attention to). I had to catch myself from shouting along when the sixth fight of the game broke out.

"I don’t get hockey." I whipped my head around. Jesse stood beside me, watching the screen with his arms crossed and his head tilted. After a few seconds, he looked down at me and laughed. "Don't look so startled doe, Pen. You're allowed to enjoy."

The others turned around to look at me too. "How long have you been watching?" Matt asked, bewildered.

I shrugged. "Long enough to know that you guys are obsessed."

Danny laughed. "Baby, if you grew up where it's below zero in the winter, you'd understand the obsession with this sport." Without thinking, I locked eyes with him and saw how his expression changed as he realised that we were supposed to still be mad at each other. Nobody noticed the suddenly shift in tension, so I went back to watching the game.

All riled and manic from watching athletes beat the shit out of each other, I felt I needed to relax in my bunk for a while. And since I wasn’t getting to sleep any time soon, a movie was popped into my laptop. Kung Fu Hustle, because I love cheesy martial arts movies and hilarity.

For some reason, I left the curtain to my bunk open as I watched the movie with headphones on, and every time someone walked by, my eyes would flicker over to them. At one point, the same pair of feet passed back and forth several times, and my stomach tightened. I licked my lips, gluing my eyes to the screen; I recognised that big gothic D tattooed on his right foot.

Then, just as I feared, Danny dropped to his knees and peered in. “I know you’re ignoring me, but we have to talk,” he said earnestly. I resolutely didn’t move a muscle, and strangely he chuckled. “Wow, I sound like a bad movie. We need to… settle things?” I pressed my lips together as covertly as I could. “…Pen, if you want me to come in, say nothing.”

Oh, you douche. “Alright, if you insist.”

Danny rolled into my bunk, and out of habit I scooted over to make room; he pulled the curtain closed after him, leaving the flickering screen as the only light. I adjusted my arm under my head, but didn’t acknowledge him. “I wanted to apologise,” he informed me quietly. My fingers began tapping a rhythm against my skull. “Matt told me you freaked out last night…”

He trailed for a second before slamming the space bar on the keyboard to pause the movie and tugging the headphones out of my ears. “A panic attack is more than ‘freaking out’,” I whispered bitterly under my breath. I hated when people did that.

“As I was saying, Matt told me you rushed off the stage in the middle of the set and came back really shaken up, and I felt like shit for doing that to you.”

Slowly I turned my head to give him my best death glare, but I couldn’t help but notice how his blue eyes glowed in the dim light. “I didn’t have an anxiety attack because of you,” I said scathingly. “Are you really that self-centred?”

“Uh, yes!” he replied, eyebrows rising.

I rolled my eyes back to the screen. “Well, at least you’re honest.”

“And you’re a great liar, because even if you weren’t thinking about me at the time, I did just yell at you and when I walked away, you looked like I ripped out your heart and threw it against the wall.”

I bit the inside of my lip; I didn’t want to be reminded of how he made me feel, especially when his comparison was dead on. “So I’m sorry,” Danny said again. “But… I felt fucking used, you know? Serious stab at my pride.”

Arching an eyebrow, I rotated my head back to him confused. “What d’you mean?” I asked softly.

“I mean I didn’t want to be some trophy for you to say, ‘I fucked the lead singer from this band.’” He shrugged the shoulder he wasn’t lying on, eyes roving away. “I don’t want to be another notch in someone’s belt.”

I laughed. I couldn’t help it; it just came out. “I’m not laughing at you!” I swore quickly, pressing my fingers to my lips. “It’s just that I never thought I’d hear someone like you say that. Usually it’s the other way around.” I straightened my expression into repentance. “I’m sorry. That was incredibly rude of me.”

Danny smiled and gave a little half-nod. “So?” I blinked inquisitively. “Do you forgive me?”

I turned to look at the ceiling as I thought. My brain didn’t want to forgive him, despite what everything else in my being was saying. He’d had his reasons to be suspicious and his body language—face language, whatever—said that he’d been used before, as alien as that sounded to me. I sighed in aggravation. “Why are you acting so mature?” I groused. “I want to stay angry at you! I barely got any time to hate you!”

He chuckled, and my mood lightened a little bit. “Well, someone has to act their age here,” he said.

I narrowed my eyes at him. “…Don’t be a bitch, Stevens. You spent all day being a bloody child deprived of a toy.” He beamed and I cracked a smile before turning back to stare at my laptop. Before long, I closed the lid, stowed in on the little shelf, and turned onto my side.

I allowed him to hesitantly brush some hair away from my face before speaking. “I wouldn’t want you to feel used,” I admitted. “I couldn’t live with myself if you thought I’d do that.” I frowned slightly. “But is your pride really that important to you?”

“Well, yeah.” My eyes started to adjust to the dark and I could better make out Danny’s face as he talked. “Why isn’t yours?”

That threw me for such a loop that I stuttered a few dumb syllables before clamping my mouth shut. His brow creased. Eventually I shook my head, tucking my hand under my cheek; I didn’t really want to go into it.

“You’re harder to get to know than I thought,” Danny observed quietly. “I mean, I had you figured out up until just now and suddenly I realise there’s this big fucking wall around you.”

My eyes flicked up. I’d never felt guilty for being secretive, even when someone (usually Ryan or William or Matt or someone else) pointed it out to me, but I did now. Suddenly, my little fortress wasn’t so comfortable.

Fortunately, Danny changed the subject. “So if it wasn’t me that made you flip, what was it?”

I shut my eyes and smiled, now embarrassed. “It’s going to sound really fucking stupid,” I warned him.

“You think I didn’t sound retarded telling you I felt taken advantage of?” he challenged lightly.

“Touché.” I took a deep breath. “It was my stepmother calling yesterday morning. Nobody ever calls with good news, or with anything really, when I’m on tour, and it just hit me all of a sudden: what the hell happened?” Danny didn’t say anything, but he was waiting for me to continue. How does he know I’m leaving out details? “A-and I…” My voice dropped to a hush. “I couldn’t help thinking it was my fault.”

The tiny, silent confines of my bunk pressed in as the seconds ticked past. I focused on controlling the rhythm of my breath, didn’t move my eyes from the collar of his t-shirt. Goddamn claustrophobia, I cursed.

It’s not the space that’s scaring you.

“What happened to you?” Danny asked suddenly. I frowned, still looking at his shirt, and he ran a finger down my cheek. “What did someone do to you that you think you don’t deserve anything but blame?”

A lump formed in my throat and I pressed my eyes shut. After a moment I smiled sadly. “You know, nobody’s ever cared enough to ask me that,” I whispered. He put his arm around my waist and pulled me the short distance into his chest.

Danny was so warm. Physically, I mean. He produced a lot of heat, which was good, because I produced hardly any and most of the time I could barely feel my extremities. But I didn’t make myself into some sort of body-heat vampire; I wasn’t taking anything he didn’t have an excess of.

“Did he hurt you?” I tilted my head up as best I could. Danny drew his head back a few inches, looking serious again. “Your ex-boyfriend.”

I snorted and returned my head to the pillow. “He couldn’t break a pencil,” I said wryly.

“…Abuse isn’t just physical, you know,” he said quietly. “If he yelled at you, or made you feel worthless, or didn’t trust you to be out of his sight for a minute… That’s abuse too.”

My chest ached. I had two conflicting urges: to tug him closer and let our gravity keep us together, and to push him out of the bunk, turn over, and cry. Actually, I was pretty sure I was going to cry no matter what I did.

So I met Danny’s gaze and held it a long time, summoning up the courage to make my throat work. “I forgive you,” I declared steadfastly. He didn’t smile, like I hoped he would. I breathed in deep and let it out. “I was broken long before I met him, love.”

“That’s not an answer, Ange,” Danny said.

I licked my lips and pushed strength into my throat, but it still came out a whisper. “Yeah. He hurt me. But so have a lot of people.”

Slowly he reached a hand up and lightly stroked my hair. Eyelids falling shut, I eased into his touch. A lock of his hair had been resting against my hand since I turned over, and I finally twisted the end gently between my fingers.

Our long, lovely moment ended when his phone buzzed. “Why’s it always the phone?” he asked, annoyed.

I smiled, eyes still shut. “Because Sartre was right when he said hell is being locked forever in a room with your friends.”

Danny laughed as he checked his text, both of us squinting at the light. “You know way too much for one person.” He flipped his phone shut. “Tim says we’re stopping for dinner. Wanna head out?”

“No.” I pressed my lips against his softly. “But I will if I must.”

We climbed out of my bunk, him holding out a hand to help me to my feet, before we put on flip-flops and headed into the front where most of the rest of our bands were waiting. Obviously some were hungrier than to wait for us.

“Why were you two giggling behind a closed curtain?” Aromi asked insinuatingly, a wide, sparkling grin on his face. “Huh?”

“I do not giggle!” I rejoined indignantly as we made for the door. A mischievous smile crept onto my lips. “…That was Danny.”