I Thought I Had it All

The next morning, John woke up to the intense light in his eyes. He felt deprived of sleep, and as if he was doing worse than the day before. He groaned as he turned over, attempting to stray away from the light. Doing him no good, he reached for his phone then rolled out of bed. The singers throat felt like it was bleeding, and he weakly walked to the bathroom. He did his business, then walked to the front of the tour bus. Garrett sat on the couch in the lounge, then stood as John walked slowly towards him.

"John.." Garrett whispered, wondering if he got a peek at himself.

John practically fell onto the couch, holding his head for a moment, then took a water bottle from Garrett.

"Are you okay?" He asked, the question coming from his lips again, like it had so many times during the last few days.

John didn't know how to answer, and when he opened his mouth, an itchy voice spoke for him. "I-m ka-y." It came out in three pieces.

Garrett sighed. He knew that something was completely wrong with John. And seeing him like this was torture to the whole band. "Dude, you can't sing today.. not like this." Garrett told him, wanting him to understand, that he was in no condition to sing. Especially, not in the extreme heat.

John tried to protest, but it did him no good. Feeling worse than yesterday, he tried to make his way back to his bunk. "I know the sunlight hits yours. Sleep in mine." Garrett told him, hoping he would take his offer and get some rest. This time, John just nodded instead of putting up a fight, and slipped into the bunk.

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Later that day, Peter told John that he'd better take the day off. But go to the set later and announce to all of the people why he wasn't singing. Someone would sing a song of theirs, and then their set would end early. The singer nodded, saving his voice for his sad speech he'd have to deliver later.

Garrett and the rest of the band hung out in the back of the band trying to give John the privacy and quietness that he'd needed. The time passed quickly that he was sleeping, but only to be awakened by Garrett when the time had come. He got up, not bothering to change into clothes for the stage. Garrett helped him walk weakly off the bus and to the set. "John, I don't think this is a good idea." Garrett told him, shooting a concerned look.

John just smiled, taking the mic from Peter. "Come on." He said quietly, letting his broken voice shine. Once on the stage he looked out at all the fans. They were expecting them to break out into a song at any time. Instead, John waited till the fans were done screaming to hold the mic up to his mouth. "Hello, I'm John from the Maine." He introduced for any new fans that might not know. "If you can tell, my voice is extremely weak as well as myself. Hopefully you all understand now why we aren't playing a set today. I apologize." He said softly, his voice breaking off at some parts. "Have a good day, and enjoy the other sets." He finished, his words coming out quick and dry.

Once he was done, John exited the stage hearing the cry of girls. Alex Gaskarth showed up to sing Into Your Arms with the rest of the band. Peter found John, and lead him back to the bus. John's walk was weak, his tall body sloppily walking besides Peter who was short. The bus came as much needed comfort.

Once the rest of the band was done, Garrett decided to go back and check on John. The others were concerned too, just trying to give John the quiet time to rest and get better. Once he was inside the bus, Garrett lifted back the curtain to Johns bunk. "Johno?" He asked, looking down into his lifeless green hues. "I'm so cold Garrett." He said quietly, his voice like static on a radio.

Garretts thoughts were racing, and before he could slow them down he scooted John over and wrapped his arms around his frail body. "Better?" He asked, knowing he must be really warm from being out in the sweltering heat. John nodded, and coughed quietly.

Garrett started to feel the connection with John he'd always wanted. Once John was asleep, he'd gotten up to find someone to talk to. Pat was sitting on the lounge wasted out of his mind. Garrett took a seat next to him, a smile coming onto his face. He loved seeing Pat like this. Mainly because he was hilarious when he was drunk, but mostly because was great to talk to. He agreed with whatever you said.

"How's John?" He asked, his voice slurring terribly.

Garrett shrugged, "I guess whenever he wakes up we can ask him how he is. But before he went to sleep he seemed pretty ill. I mean, I feel bad because there isn't really anything we can do. I don't even know what the hell he has. You know?"

Pat nodded, "Yeah I know. He'll be okay through Garrett, don't worry." He smiled, being a positive person in general even if he was drunk or not.

"Yeah your right." Garrett said quietly, then helped Pat to bed in his bunk. "Goodnight man." He said softly, leaving him to check on John again. He was still asleep, and now the bus was quiet without Pat.

Peter found Garrett and told him to get some sleep, that they were playing the show tomorrow regardless. He nodded and went to bed too, even though he was slightly bothered that John didn't have a choice.