Smiling at Everything

Jazz sighed, curling up against the couch on the bus. The performance had been a spectacular start to the tour. The crowd was full of energy, responding to each song of the set with excitement. Everything went on without any major problems, RxN's set ran smoothly, the equipment was tuned properly, and Dorian and Lestat crashed All Time Low's set to argue.

It was the only argument they had the whole night.

But it was fun. The performance reminded Jazz why she loved being in the band so much. Seeing those fans stare up at them, mouthing the words, and crying; it's what Jazz performed for. Anything to change someone's life.

It was nearly four in the morning. After the performance, the bands picked up food and set off for the second venue of the tour. Once the high of performing died, everyone went to sleep, with the exception of Jazz. Even Zack, who tried desperately to keep from falling asleep, ended up going to bed by two in the morning. Jazz was alone, awake and trying not to sleep.

She took a sip from her energy drink can, eyes blankly staring at the kitchen area of the bus. She could feel memories preparing to take over her mind it she let it wander too long. They were waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike. As she sat there, flashes of faces from the past echoed in her mind.

Jazz stared at the cabinet longingly. She didn't want to think about them and there was one way she knew would get rid of them. They'd disappear with a few kisses from a blade. And she wanted that blade badly.

Jazz stood from her seat and walked to the kitchen area. With one tug, she opened the cabinet. The same blades from the night before shined happily at her. She reached toward the blades, finger sifting through her selection.

One cut. That's all she would do and no one would be the wiser. Not her band mates, not her manager, not her parents, not her fans, not the bands on tour, not Zack.

Jazz paused. Zack's pleading face filled her mind. She promised him she would tell him if she felt like cutting. But it was late. She couldn't wake him up to tell him.

She promised Zack though and she didn't want to break that.

Closing the cabinet, Jazz walked from the kitchen area through the living room to the bunk area. She stopped at Zack's bunk, the one with a light blue curtain situated underneath her own bunk. Jazz nibbled on her bottom lip, gripping the curtain and preparing herself to pull it back.

Knocking seemed pointless. Though she didn't want to violate Zack's privacy, Zack wasn't likely to wake up and the rest of the bus residents might. Jazz didn't need anyone harassing her about going to Zack's bunk late at night.

Jazz pulled the curtain back, greeted by the sight of Zack's sleeping, half-dressed form. Heat rushed to Jazz's cheeks as her eyes ran over Zack's chest. He just didn't like wearing shirts when he didn't have to, did he?

Not that Jazz minded the view.

Jazz pulled her eyes from Zack's body. She didn't need to be ogling him. She needed to fulfill a promise and that did not include Zack's body.

She perched on the edge of his bed, nudging his arm gently and whispering, "Zack."

Zack groaned, swatting at Jazz's intruding hand. His eyes slid open to groggily examine his surroundings, landing on Jazz. She smiled at him in an attempt to lessen his possible irritation with being woken up. In response, his eyebrows drew together.

"What time is it?" Zack asked.

"Four," Jazz responded.

"In the afternoon?"

"In the morning," she corrected.

"Why are you waking me up at four in the morning?"

Jazz bit her lip again, eyes diverting to her lap. Sensing something wrong, Zack sat up in his bunk, careful not to hit his head. Jazz shaking him awake was a much better wake up than slamming his head against a bunk.

"Elvis, are you okay?" Zack asked.

"I feel like," Jazz hesitated, "using those knives in the cabinet."

She didn't want to say she felt like cutting. It was too easy to be overheard in the small space. Hopefully, Zack would catch the meaning without her needing to explain it.

Zack sent Jazz a blank stare. She wanted to use knives. Well, she could do that on her own. It's not like she needed his help to cut something. She wasn't incompetent.

Before Zack could ask why she was waking him up over knife use, realization sprung into his head. She didn't want to cut just anything with the knives. She wanted to cut herself with the knives.

His exhaustion was getting in the way of his understanding.

"Give me a second. I'll get the Legos," Zack said.

"Beatrice, you can't build a proper Lego house when you're awake," Jazz commented.

"Well, smartass, what would you like to do?"

Jazz shrugged, "I don't know. Talk or something. Just spending time with you helps."

Zack searched his mind for something they could do. It was four in the morning and he was tired. Jazz was probably tired too. Sleep was out of the question for her, though. And as long as she felt like cutting, it was out of the question for him too.

He wasn't going to go to sleep on her while she needed him.

"If you feel comfortable, we could lie down in here together and talk until I fall asleep," Zack suggested.

Jazz looked at Zack's bunk, debating. There wasn't much space. If they shared, they would be pushed close against each other. But she had stayed in the same bed as him before. She had cuddled against him after a vicious nightmare.

Plus, she liked being in his arms.

"That sounds nice," Jazz said.

Zack smiled, "Would you like to change out of your Spiderman outfit first?"

Jazz never changed after the performance. After the excitement of performing wore off, she was too lazy to do so. She wasn't going to get up, go to the back room, grab a change of clothing from her bag, and change. That was too much work and she was drained of energy. She could lie next to him in her undergarments. It wasn't that big of a deal.

It should have been though. It always had been in her past relationships. She never cuddled next to a significant other and she sure as hell never stood in front of them in her underwear.

But she felt comfortable with Zack.

Jazz gripped the hem of her Spiderman shirt, turning her back to Zack. She pulled the top over her head and tossed it in the corner of Zack's bunk. Zack's eyes widened, scanning the angel wings tattoo taking up the expanse of her back.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

Jazz glanced over her shoulder, "Changing."

"Oh."

Jazz shook her head, pulling her shorts off of her body and tossing them to meet her shirt. Deciding not to sit there and prepare herself to be so exposed in front of Zack, Jazz turned around to climb over him, her boy shorts and bra on display.

Zack held the blanket up for her to slip under, eyeing Jazz's undergarments. The lingerie wasn't lacy, not as sex-oriented as Zack expected her to wear. With what she wore daily around her friends, he thought she would wear sexy underwear every day even though no one would see it just to keep her façade up. But what she wore suited her in his eyes. She looked good in anything.

"Cartoon Elvises?" Zack asked.

He would poke fun at her about it anyway.

"They were a gift," Jazz defended.

"From who?"

"Neon."

"Does she hate you?"

"They don't look that bad, do they?"

"I'm just joking. They look great on you."

Jazz smiled, "Thanks. Now lay down. I can't cuddle with you if you're sitting up like that."

Zack did as she commanded, sliding from his seated position to lie down. Jazz laid against his chest once he was situated. His arms wrapped around her waist, keeping her close. He was warm, comfortable. Laying against him, listening to his heartbeat, Jazz felt safe.

"What would you like to talk about?" Zack asked.

"Let's talk about you," Jazz suggested.

"What about me?"

"What's your family like?" Jazz asked.

She wanted to know about him. His life before the band, his life now, what he liked and disliked. She wanted to know everything.

No strong relationship could be one-sided.