In This Starless City

It was the day following my birthday and we were all on our flight back to the States. We were in a private jet that was provided by the sponsors of the tour. It was definitely a convenience because now we didn’t have to check anything if we didn’t want to and it made transporting all of our equipment much easier. It also made transporting our individual instruments a lot less unnerving since we were permitted to carry them onto the flight along with us.

I sat in a seat by myself near the rear of the plane, staring out the window while strumming my bass quietly to myself. I had gone through our album and was about halfway through a Radiohead album when Oliver came back and sat across from me. I only noticed that he was there when he kicked his feet onto the seat across from him next to me.

I stopped playing and looked at him.

“Now I know that I drank a lot last night and that my memory hasn’t always been worth a gold medal,” he started, leaning his temple against his knuckles. “But if I’m not mistaken, you crush a certain Jackass last night.”

I couldn’t help but smirk at the quip toward Jack. “I didn’t crush him,” I denied lightly.

“He hasn’t looked away from the clouds since we took off two hours ago,” Oliver reasoned, nodding toward the front of the plane.

I had a clear view of Jack and I’d known that he hadn’t said anything to anyone or looked away from the window since he had sat down. But I also knew that I didn’t have anything to say to him at that point.

“What do you want me to do about it?” I asked in a low tone, trying not to sound like a complete bitch (partially because Jack was within earshot and I had a conscience) while simultaneously making it clear that there was nothing anyone could say to me that would make me want to go over here and ask what was the matter with him. If what was bothering him was what I thought was bothering him, then there was no real purpose in asking him myself. And if it was something different that was causing his mind unease, then I didn’t see the point in getting myself wrapped up in it.

And I appreciated the fact that Oliver understood all of that without even having to answer my question.

“Are you okay?” he completely switched ears and took me off guard.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” I answer, a little too quickly and I felt the hole in my chest stretch, smarting slightly, and my rock-hard heart jolted a little at the look Oliver gave me. I sighed, and said, “I just wish that my birthday could’ve gone a little differently. Not to be completely selfish, but there are bitches out there that expect everything to be handed to them on a silver platter and don’t deserve anything good because of it, and I never ask for anything more than satisfactory, but the one time I was asking for something better…the universe threw it back in my face.”

Oliver was looking at me, his eyes slightly glossy from being hung over, but they were cutting at the same time. “That’s pretty selfish of you,” he replies, and were I in any other mood other than the mood I was in then, I would’ve laughed.

But I didn’t even crack a grin. “Thank you,” I sneer curtly and then I went back to strumming, putting an end to whatever conversation he was trying to have with me.

The remainder of the flight was a little more than completely unbearable. Everyone other than myself and Debbie Downer Jack Barakat were loud and laughing and slowly working off their hangovers in the short time we had before we landed in New York o perform our last show of the tour.

I looked out the window again and could see the coastline from the air, all of the skyscrapers of the city visible through the smoggy metropolitan air.

And then, before I knew it, we were bumping to the group and we taxied to the airport, just as we had that morning as well as three days before that.

We gathered our luggage and there was a truck waiting to take our equipment to our venue for us. We were all footloose until our show that evening and I was surprised that I was the only one out of my four that had the immediate thought of going to my apartment and unpacking.

“You’re not going out with us?” Zack asked, shocked and a little put off. “But you’re finally legal?”

“No thanks,” I replied, avoiding Jack’s penetrating and beseeching gaze. He was probably convinced that didn’t want to go out because he would be there. He was definitely convinced now that I wanted absolutely nothing to do with him.

And a part of me wanted t tell him that that was the God-awful truth and that he would have to live with it.

They looked about to object, but I spoke before they could. “I’ve got a lot of unpacking to do and I don’t want to take advantage of my drinking rights and then be completely smashed for our last show together.” The last four words that passed my lips were hard to say and even harder grasp. My eyes accidentally flicked toward Jack for a millisecond and that’s how I knew why his stature straightened ever so slightly.

I insisted that I’d catch up with them later and then climbed into the cab that already had all of my belongings inside of it and gave the driver the directions to my apartment. The guys were each climbing into their own taxis as mine pulled away from the curb slowly. And it felt like a movie when I glanced out the window and saw Jack standing there. His hands were in his pockets and his shoulders were hunched underneath the sweatshirt he was wearing, the hood pulled up over his baseball cap against the cool autumn-feeling breeze.

His eyes followed me as the cab picked up speed and he pulled one hand out of his pocket and held it up innocently, waving at me with a remorseful smile on his face.

I looked at my hands as my cab swerved into the heavy afternoon traffic. There wasn’t much going on inside my head the entire drive. I was listening to the familiar shrieks and hollers of the city I had grown to know and love after being away for so long.

The feeling of being home again had filled me up the moment I set foot in the airport.

My phone vibrated in my pocket and without even having to look at it, I knew it was a text from Jack.

I flipped it open and sighed when I found out I was spot fucking on.

You look beautiful today.

I snapped my phone closed and sighed, blushing and irritated at the same time. He was going to win; I knew it.

And so did he.

><><><

I unpacked and was all ready to get situated back into my apartment when I realized our show was in three and a half hours and I looked like a total mess.

I’d never showered, done my hair and makeup, and picked out an outfit as fast as I did that day.

I was ready and in a cab, on my way to the venue, within the hour.

I felt sort of bad for not meeting up with the guys before hand for my first American taste of liquor. But not bad enough to call them up and tell them to wait up for me. I knew they’d be at the venue later, which meant Jack would be there later, which meant I didn’t have to deal with him then.

And I couldn’t argue with that logic.

I walked through the venue and to the guitar rack, looking at each of our instruments critically. Then, I noticed All Time Low’s rack next to ours and my eyes automatically connected with Jack’s guitar.

Before I realized what I was doing, I picked it up and carried it out onto the stage, sitting down on the edge with it and strumming absent mindedly while our crew set up a few things around me.

I had texted Nathan and told him that I was already at the venue and to not worry about picking me up at my place after they were finished doing whatever it was they were doing. He insisted that I not just seclude myself at my place after what happened between Jack and me, but I insisted that I indulge in my first taste of American liquor after our last show.

In a way, I was agreeing to his terms: I was secluding myself at the venue, not my house.

As I sat there strumming, I started thinking about the past few months and all the time my boys and I had spent with Alex, Rian, Zack, and Jack. I started remembering how close we had all become in such a short period of time. All of the parties on our buses and all of he pranks we played on each other during the others’ sets.

My throat ached and tightened as one thing lead to another and I found myself considering how easily I had allowed myself to get close to Jack. I wasn’t stupid, but I wasn’t necessarily cynical. I’d read numberless books and seen countless movies that presented cliché girls with trust issues that allowed that one and only boy to slither past their high fences. And I’d thought they were all nothing short of completely ridiculous.

But then I realized that that was just exactly the position I was in then, as I sat on the edge of that stage. I hadn’t had a boyfriend in years and I wasn’t looking for one while I was on tour specifically to avoid drama. But I just had to go and let my emotions and hormones and heart overrule my common sense and conscience and head.

And I got fucked over for it.

My phone buzzed beside me and I flipped it open to see a new text message from Alex that read:

After party at A&K tonight. Don’t try to weasel your way out of this one, grumpy. I’ll tie you up f I have to (not that you’d mind, I’m sure).

I rolled my eyes and closed my phone, putting it back down on the stage beside me while internally berating myself for hoping it had been a text message from Jack.
The minutes swirled into hours and before I knew it, the crew had finished setting up the stage and the boy arrived not that long after. My three boys’ eyes were wide with disbelief as they grinned at each other and rubbed the backs of the necks. Rian and Zack were both laughing as Alex and Jack bounced and laughed and looked back where they had come.

Then I realized that I could hear the screaming fans outside the front doors of the venue and the facades of the boys before me all suddenly clicked in my mind.

“There’s our sober angel,” Oliver grinned as he approached the stage. “How long have you been sitting here?”

But I barely noticed his question because I suddenly realized that I was sitting there with Jack’s guitar in my lap and he had noticed, his bouncy and giggle-filled mood suddenly melting into one of knowing conceit. He smirked at me, his eyebrows raised slightly, and I could almost read his mind.

“Almost two hours,” I answer Oliver finally as I pulled my legs under me and hoisted myself to my feet. The guys scattered and I could feel someone’s presence behind me as I placed Jack’s guitar back on the ATL rack.

“I didn’t know you played guitar,” Jack said as he leaned against the rack.

“I didn’t know you played girls,” I shot back, eyes narrowing and the hair on the back of my neck standing on end when I saw his smirk widen. “But I guess there are a lot of things we don’t know about each other.”

I made to walk away but Jack caught my hand in his and yanked me back to him, his eyes boring down into mine as he kept me close to him. I was stunned by how alone we suddenly were. Everyone had gone and it was just he and I standing offstage. There was no one to back me up if I needed it, but then again, there were no witnesses to what I could’ve possibly done to him physically or emotionally.

“When are you going to give up this ‘stay mad at the prick’ act?” he asks in a whisper.

“As soon as the prick gives up his ‘prick’ status,” I mock his tone, taking a step toward him threateningly. But he stood his ground. “And right now, you’re doing nothing but losing points.”

He released my wrist but didn’t step away. And neither did I. I stood, unblinking, in front of him. So close that our toes were just an inch from each other’s and our chest were almost touching. It was the position a girl and boy would be in if they were about to kiss, but this was the pole opposite. I couldn’t look away from him and I began thinking that he was taking it the wrong way.

“You know you have soundcheck right now, right?” he asked, a little confused, but he clearly couldn’t help grinning at the flabbergasted effect that he knew he still had over me.

“Go fuck yourself, Barakat.” I snarl coldly, sidestepping him and walking toward the stage after grabbing my bass off the rack. “Or better yet,” something came to me and I turned to look at him. He had turned to listen to me as well. “Go fuck that girl back in London. “I’m sure she misses you.”

That one stung. I witnessed his confidence crack and his shoulders slump just before I turned and walked onto the stage for soundcheck. And once that was over and done with, I walked to our dressing room and closed the door behind me.

Then, all at once, I remembered the first time I had realized I was in love with Jack.

The room I was in was just like the one I had punched a mirror in a week before I stared at myself in the mirror, images of the shattered glass and blood streaming through my consciousness. I couldn’t focus on any particular thought as the images raced faster and faster through my mind. My dad had been in critical condition in the hospital and before I knew it, I was picking shards of glass from the palm of my hand, dropping them on the floor into an ever-growing puddle of my own blood.

There was one thing that I could remember as clear as day however: Jack.

I looked down at my hand presently. I had gone from gauze to a heavy Band-Aid and the stitches were ready to come out any day now. It didn’t hurt near as badly as it had the first few days we were in London, but I guess my physical injuries weren’t really that prominent in my mind then.

I waited in the dressing room until we were called out on stage and I was pleased with how easily all of my problems flew out of my head. I bounced around the stage with Oliver and Nathan and played in front of Brandon, smiling at him as I bashed the cymbals of his trap set with my hands.

Our set ended and all the guys rushed on stage to set up for the final show. My boys and I all showered quickly and then waited offstage, watching the final show. The guys all seemed so happy, like they always did during their sets, and Jack was especially cheerful, jumping and skipping around, harmonizing with Alex. As per usual, bras were flying on stage like roses at an opera and Jack wasted no time in scooping them up and hanging them on his mic stand.

And as I watched, I felt myself getting warmer and when he smiled at me, I smiled back without even thinking about it.

After the show, we got to Angels & Kings and were greeted with a huge and varied crowd of fellow musicians and friends. I was pleased to once again see William Beckett and Brendon Urie in the crowd. After having kept in touch with them since our previous encounters, I’ve come to realize that they were two of my favorite people.

I stood on my tippy toes and wrapped my arms around William, giggling as he straightened and pulled me off in the ground in doing so.

“Hey, skinny,” I say when he put me back on my feet. “How’ve you been?”

“Nothing to report,” he replies with a shrug, batting those brown eyes at me. “How’ve you been, princess? Done any real drinking yet?”

I shook my head, chuckling. “Not really. There was my birthday, but…it was cut sort of short.” My stomach rolled but I wasn’t fazed. “I was anticipating tonight to be better.”

“Well, I’d be more than honored to help make it the best night of your life,” Bill offers, tipping his beer to me.

I was about to respond when someone bounced up to me. “I want to help too!” Brendon sings. And I really mean sing. The hairs on my arms and neck rose at the sound of his voice and his smile widened when he saw my cheeks grow rosy.

“Well, what are we waiting for?” I ask as I turned toward the bar. “Let’s make sure I don’t remember a thing from this night.”

And while I wanted to remember everything from that night, detail for tiny detail, I only said that because out of the corner of my eye, I saw Jack looking at me, listening to me. And I knew right after the words passed my lips that he knew exactly what I was implying.

He knew that I was expecting him to ruin the night again. Just as he had done that first night we'd ever hung out back in Los Angelas.

And while I was hurt by how hurt he looked, I needed a stress free night for once and was happy when there was a shot in my hand.