Taion

The next day wasn't as bad as I thought it would've been. I got up at nine AM. The bus is already parked and the bunks are empty. Blinking, I rub my eyes and get up, stretching.  A yawn escapes my mouth and I shuffle to the front of the bus. 

"Hey." Jack greets me, but he as well as Alex is focused on the TV. Some history documentary on ancient Greece: a topic of a test they probably failed in high school and figured it would be nice to be reeducated. As I mumble my "G'morning," I notice Alex's black eye and grimace. It looks awful. Something make-up cant even cover. 

The skin around his left eye and cheek bone are bruised -dashed with shades of yellow and purple. 

"I made you breakfast." Rian's voice surprises me and I jump slightly as he comes from behind me, shirtless and skin glistening with water. He's drying his hair with a towel. He must have just showered. He points to the kitchenette's black microwave. "'S in there." 

"Thanks. For the food." I open up the microwave , pulling out a toast-egg sandwich, close the door, and fix my gaze at Alex again via the appliance's sleek reflection. 

Alex's eyes quickly flick to me as well, as if he knew I was observing. I panic and look away. Instead, I quietly take a place at the bus's small booth and focus on eating. 

"It's cold." I murmur. 

"We ate an hour ago. You should've gotten up earlier." Jacks response is a relief: it told me he didn't hold any harsh feelings towards me despite the tension from last night's conversation. 

"Why didn't you wake me up?"

"Zack said not to. He thought you needed some rest." Alex. I freeze. His voice is monotone: neither harsh nor welcoming. "He wanted to speak with you, by the way."

 Inside, I'm struggling. I'm not sure if I should answer or not. If I don't, it could be seen as hostile. I reply, "Where is he?"

He doesn't look at me as he nods towards the door. "Outside. Lifting, I think."

"'Kay. Thanks." No one speaks, and I realize: "Thanks," was the nicest thing I've said to him in a long time. 

I eat perhaps half the cold sandwich before pushing the other bit away. I was hungry; I hadn't eaten since early yesterday, but eating was making me sick. As I stand, he glances over at me. "You need to eat more. Sit down." his voice is tired, as if he's recovering from a long mental battle with himself. 

"I'm not hungry," I answer, slipping on a pair of VANS. They're big on me, not mine. Rian's.  He doesn't mind, though. I've slipped on his shoes a many times for short excursions during Warped. 

Alex doesn't answer at that, but then again, I'm not expecting him to. He's already talked to me. He's already used up all his nice. I open the door and trample down the stairs, the shoes slapping against the metal steps. The door shuts behind me. 

"I thought I told you not to do anything stupid." It's not a question, but a statement, and I'm caught off guard by Zack's forwardness. He grunts, because he's currently benching again and his muscles are rippling. I try not to stare to much and stare at Rian's shoes. 

I feel his eyes flicker over me and I'm toying with my lip ring, then take it out and slip it in my pocket. I feel a bit more confident and mature with it in my pocket and out of his critiquing  gaze. I shrug. "It won't happen again."

He smiles. "Liar." I'm not exactly sure on how to reply to his comment so I don't. "You do realize you've fucked up big time right?" Zack pauses and catches me with his hazel eyes and I just stare back. 

I know, I think. I know. 

"Our fans are really borderline with you right now..." He sits up, setting the weight down as if it's a toy and dusts his hands together. "I know we shouldn't really care about them in comparison with you, considering your one of us, but it's kind of worrying us with the threats some of them have sent over Facebook and MySpace. You had their hearts before, kid!"

Did he seriously just call me a kid? I inwardly sigh. Apparently my social status with him has diminished as well.  I bit my lip and try to focus on something else: the paint splatters on the toe of Rian's shoes for example. 

"I honestly don't know what to do here. It's as if your a total lost cause again. I just..." He sighs, shaking his head and stands up, walking away, but still facing me. His steady pace he keeps -even walking backwards- makes me think he wants to get away from the situation he's created by asking to talk to me. The confrontation. He shrugs, stops and looks away at a spot of dirt on the ground, rubbing the nape of his neck. His nose piercing glints in the sun and he shrugs again.  "I just don't know." 

That's when he turns and opens the trailer's door.  The whole process of him entering the bus is maybe two seconds -three tops. But it seems like so much longer. It takes all I have to swallow the developing lump in my throat and to calm myself, I sit down on the ground, put my head in my hands -tugging at my hair- and scream. 

The day  wasn't as bad as I thought it would've been; it very much could've been considered worse. And it wasn't even over yet.