When I Look at the Stars, I Feel Like Myself

I feel awful. I really wish we didn't preform today, it really drained all my energy. More so than usual. I can't bring myself to face Riley, or Holland, for that matter.

She was right outside the door when I walked out. After I yelled at Riley, I went to the bus and sat in my bunk for a while. Then Rian texted me and asked me where I was; they couldn't do Remembering Sunday without me.

And I felt like such an airhead. How could I forget about the song I had to sing with Alex?

When I got there, Zack told me that he heard me yell at Riley, too. So I can't face him, either. Calvin's probably heard Riley's side of the story and decided to take her's, so I can't face him. Dalton thought we were talking about our periods, so he'll be totally confused about why me and her are mad at each other, and RJ...

Well, RJ is my age, but he's always been more mature than me. I know all the reasons for that, so this stupid fight will seem like nothing to him. And as for Ross, I don't really feel like getting a borderline lecture about just talking it out with Riley and making up. Though his advice always works, I'm not ready for it yet.

So, instead of doing anything that might require social skills, I'm standing here, staring at the stage. All Time Low is just leaving, that much I know, even though I'm not even really looking at anything.

Haven't I learned my lesson? I can't just keep screaming at people because they address me in a way I don't like. And I definitely shouldn't keep shouting when they don't fight back.

But, I haven't learned, and I probably never will. I'm too stupid to figure it out.

“Hey, Lina,” Holland says beside me.

I jump, startled and look at her. How long has she been standing there? “Um, hey,” I say, looking back at the stage. She heard, and I think she hates me now, even just a little. She heard the fight, and I don't think she took my side. I didn't even take my side.

Why am I too stupid to learn from my previous mistakes? What if Riley kills herself, too just because of a stupid comment I made?

I, of all people, should know that there are some hurts you can hide. Some hurts that can tear at your heart and make it bleed worse than others.

And that those who look fine, happy, and normal on the outside, may have more hurts than those who wear theirs on their sleeve. They're just not visible to anyone.

I sigh and turn around, intent on talking to Holland. But, she's off with Jack, I see them. Jack is playing with the white puffball on her underwear. There she goes, off with someone more interesting.

I start to walk away slowly, but someone grabbed my wrist. I was hoping it would be Dalton, even though I don't want to talk to him. I can't shake him off, no matter how hard I try.

He looks at me with his smile, and I fall in love all over again ruining the progress I made in just letting him go.

But, when I turn around, it's Zack. He's smiling at me, too. His smile is almost as bright as Dalton's.

Then his face fell, and his brow furrowed, and his eyes held concern in them..

“What's wrong?” he asks, wiping my cheeks. A new found moisture is spread across them, and I realize I had been crying.

Why am I being so emotional lately? I didn't used to cry this much.

It could be the fact that I haven't slept for more than an hour in roughly seven days. I took in a sharp breath. It's the seventh day of tour. And nothing bad has happened yet.

I got the call about Erin on our seventh day of that tour. Another of the countless reason why I consider seven my unlucky number.

Anyway, I can't sleep in the bunk because it's too cramped and the road is bumpy. And I can't sleep in the beds at the hotel because they're too soft. I'm used to sleeping on my mom's rock hard couch. I shared a room with Erin, and I can't stand to go in there, it holds too many memories.

I do go in there on special occasions, like Christmas, and when I really need someone to talk to. I wish I didn't need our room to do that now, because it would be really nice to talk to a dead person right now.

Their backs are so unburdened. They don't have a care in the world. I'm sure they wouldn't mind me unloading on them every so often.

“Hey...” Zack says in a comforting voice. My tears are silent, but my face is buried in his chest. I don't think I'll cry any harder than this. I hope I won't; I've cried on Zack's clothes enough already.

He runs his fingers through my hair, and rubs my back. The tears have stopped, though I want to cry more. Riley hates me now, I'm sure of it.

He pulls my head up, and looks me in the eye, “Are you okay now?” he says lowly.

I nod, not trusting my voice to be audible.

“What's wrong?” he asks once more.

This will require my voice, so I search my mind for the shortest explanation I can give, “Everything,” I whisper hoarsely, burying my face back into his chest.

“You're such a drama queen,” he chuckles.

So I've been told.

I don't take any offense to the statement, it's completely true, after all. I know he's just trying to diffuse the tension, and it worked a little.

“Riley,” I say again, hoping he gets the picture.

He doesn't, “What about her?”

“Our fight,”

“Oh,”

We are silent again, I'm breathing him in. He smells so good, despite the fact he just got off stage. I take this time to notice he's not wearing a shirt. So that's why he doesn't smell horrible.

“Let's go to the back room,” he suggests.

He pulls on my hand, but I give him a panicked look, “Not there, let's just...” I don't want to face anyone. I'm too...

I just don't know anymore.

“Okay,” soothes, dropping my hand, “Where to, then?” I don't answer, hoping he'll just decide for me, “Want me to take you to your bus?”

I'm glad he brought that up. Last night, I hid out all night in my bunk, and Dalton told me he's forcing me to socialize tonight. I don't think I can handle that.

“Can I...” I try to raise my voice, but have to clear it, “Can I hang on your bus tonight?” I ask shyly, head pointed to the ground.

He doesn't say anything, so I raise my head slightly and look at his face, which held a tinge of shock.

“What?” I mumble.

“Nothing... Let's go,” He puts his arm around my shoulder, and leads me to the door. His arm is strong and comforting. I try to figure out what Dalton and Zack have in common, what makes me like both of them.

Dalton doesn't have any muscles, so it's not that on Zack. I hardly know the bassist, so I can't say anything personality wise. Besides, from what I've seen, they're completely different in that department.

I like Zack's hair blonde, so it's not the hair color. Well, it might be, since I adore Dalton's blonde streak. But... that's not it.

It's something bigger. Something that you don't realize at first glance.

I could be the height, I'm 5'3, and Zack is about six foot, same as Dalton. Way taller than me, but, as I said before, it's not a prominent feature.

We get to the bus, and no one else is there. I'm glad, though I wish Zack wasn't here.

He will probably try to cheer me up, though, which would be considered good to outside observer.

But it's not to me, I just want to wallow in my own self-pity and hatred till I rot. It's what I deserve.

“Are you staying the night here?” he asks, stopping at the entrance to the back room.

“Yeah, I was planning on it,”

“Do you want to get your stuff from your bus, if you need it?”

“Yeah, I'll be back, I guess,” I walked back to the bus in front of ATL's and head up the steps.

When I get to the bunk room, Riley is there. She's been crying, her eyes are puffy and red.

I know I should say something, and I open my mouth to do so, but she's talking on the phone.

“No, John. It's okay,” Oh, she talking to John. He's cheering her up, so I don't need to. He's better at it, anyway.

She doesn't want to talk to me, anyway. I grab my bag and storm off the bus.

“Wait! Elina!” Riley calls after me. I stop, hoping she'll come out and say what she wanted, “Since The Maine played last, we have to leave soon. Will you get everyone else?” She asks, from the back still.

I wish I could slam the door to the bus, but I can't so I just give a shriek of frustration, leaving a confused bus driver and a clueless Riley.

X

“You know, Zack,” Jack begins, just as the bus starts moving, “That's a nice piece of jailbait you got there,”

I turn a scarlet color at the accusation. Even though I like him, I'm not ready for that yet. I probably won't be for a while, either.

“Shut up, Jack,” Zack commands, “Besides, we're in...” he looks to the bus driver.

“Minnesota,” he answers.

“Minnesota,” Zack confirms, then falters, “Really?”

“Uh, yeah. Our bus driver told me that this morning, that we would be in Minnesota around two AM,” I answer, “We did just come from Michigan,”

“Oh,” Zack continues, “Anyway, the age of consent in Minnesota is 16,”

I give him a weird look, “Really?” I ask, sarcastically, “Just pulled that from the top of your head?”

Jack looks at me, “You have to know these things, Elina. Being in a band is...”

I punch him in the arm, “You guys are disgusting,”

“Hey,” Alex laughs from his spot on the ground in the back room, “He's right!” he shows us all the screen of his Iphone.

Everyone else laughs, even Vinny, who just recently walked into the room. I roll my eyes and get up from my seat on the couch, next to Zack.

“Where are you going?” Zack asks.

“To bed. I'm exhausted,” though I probably won't sleep, anyway.

“Hang on for a second,” Zack holds up a finger, as if it will stop me, “I'll come with you,”

“No, you don't have to. If you still want to hang out back here, I'll be fine alone,”

“It's okay; you need to know where to sleep. Besides, these guys are boring,” he throws something at Colussy, who is sleeping on the floor.

“Hey, man,” he says groggily from the floor, “Be cool,”

I roll my eyes again, and leave the room, calling behind my shoulder, “I have to get ready, anyway!”

With my bag in hand, I close the door to the bathroom and look in the mirror. I feel sick. Like I really will throw up all over myself. My stomach gives a painful lurch, and I fall to my knees on the bathroom floor. Then it dawns on me.

This is hunger pangs. When was the last time I ate anything? It probably isn't good that I don't remember. What with the preforming, and all, I should be eating more than I normally do. But I'm not.

I just forget. There's something wrong with my memory. Somehow, my mind thinks it's more important to scream at and ignore my best friends than to eat.

Despite all this, I don't want to eat. I feel like I deserve this, like I should just wither away and die like this. I think this not eating properly thing came along when Erin died.

It's depression. I know that much. One of the symptoms is loss of appetite. I know I'm depressed, but the question is why? Why am I still depressed about something that happened over a year ago?

It's The Wall. So much is trapped back there, I'm sure there's something huge, something bigger than death, that's trapped there. And I don't even realize or remember anything about it.

I'm in a fetal position on the floor, and I'm sure I'm crying. I can't tell anymore, but judging by the painful lump in my throat, I am.

I crawl to the toilet, and almost throw up once more. But, there's nothing in my stomach besides acid. I need to eat.

I get up slowly from the floor, and another wave of nausea washes over me, tainting my vision black, and throwing me balance off. My bag is on the counter, and I pull a pair of shorts and a tank top out. I take off my clothes, and throw these ones on. I don't brush my teeth, there's no point, since I'll just eat something after I'm done here.

I leave the room, using the wall for balance. Zack is in the bunk room, and when he see the state I'm in, he rushes to my side.

“What's wrong?” he asks, his voice laced with concern. He has his arm around my waist, steadying me.

“I don't remember the last time I ate,” I answer clutching my stomach, “I'm starving,”

He laughs, thinking it's just a joke. But when he sees I'm not laughing, he looks at me, brow furrowed, care and a tinge of worry etched in it.

He leads me to the kitchen, and helps me to the booth. He opens the locked cupboards, and questions what I like to eat.

“Do you have...” I trail off, thinking.

“We have a microwave, too,” he says, pointing to the device, “Just in case you're not use to that,”

I chuckle, “I'm not.” I think some more on what I want to eat, the microwave opening up thousands more possibilities.

I'm not hungry. At least, that's what my brain is telling me. Judging by the noise my stomach just roared, he doesn't agree.

“Do you have frozen burritos and ketchup?” I ask, looking down at the table. I know, ketchup on burritos? But, it's surprisingly tasty. Zack thinks I'm a freak for sure, now.

He checks the freezer and says his confirmation, not bothering to search for ketchup. He sticks the Mexican yumminess in the microwave, and sits across from me.

“What about the ketchup, I won't eat them if you don't have any,” I say.

“We always have ketchup,” Zack dismisses. I remember once, when I was six, my house was turned upside down for ketchup. There was none to be found. All hell broke loose.

My dad was obsessed with the condiment. This was a time where he was home, and it was scary at the time. I mean, I was six. And all the stores were closed for Labor Day.

I laugh at the memory, and Zack smiles at me, “What's so funny?”

I shake my head and wave my hand, dismissing the question. The hunger must be making me loopy.

The microwave beeps, and Zack sets the plate down in front of me, along with the bottle of ketchup.

“I have to go get ready, eat up,” he says, with a farewell pat on the back.

X

“Which bunk is mine for tonight?” I ask, with my blanket in hand. My teeth are clean, and I washed my face. I feel sparkly now that my stomach is full, and not in a homo-vampire way.

“Um, this is the only one that's open but...” Zack pulls back the curtain, and my nose is met with a horrible smell, “Jack peed in that one,”

I wrinkle my nose. Did Jack really have to do that? I don't know the situation, or what was going through his mind, but something tells me it was not called for.

“Okay, I'll sleep on the couch in the front room,” I say, turning to walk away. But Zack grabs my wrist, stopping me. It wasn't that hard, either. I don't particularly care to sleep there with a creep-o bus driver watching me.

“It's really easy to fall off of that, when the bus is moving,” he informs me.

“I'm use to falling off beds and couches,” I answer him, “If it happens, I'll be just fine on the floor,” why am I writing that off? I don't want to sleep out there tonight. What if Zack just lets me? Oh, God I am so stupid! What if the driver tries to rape me?

“It's cold out there,” was his last argument. He sounds like that guy in the song 'Baby, It's Cold Outside'. And that song is about date rape!

“Okay,” I sigh, ignoring the thought of Zack being a date rapist. We're not on a date, anyway. Besides, would it really be considered rape?

All my thoughts halt, and there's a train wreck in my brain. Of course it would be rape! I don't want Zack like that. That's just...

Disgusting. Doing that with someone... it's just gross. To be with someone like that, should only come with years and years of commitment. If you do it within three weeks of knowing each other, that's just wrong. In my personal opinion, the earliest you should have it is the night you get engaged. That way, you're almost certain he won't just leave in the morning.

I think I'll just wait until I'm married, that way I know I can trust him. I know he won't leave me because, if he married me, he wants to have children with me. And that's the main reason he wants to make love to me.

“I'll sleep out there,” he offers, breaking my train of thought.

“I can't let you do that,” I reject, “I know it would probably be more comfortable out there, but... I can't just take your bunk!”

“Yes, you can, it's okay, really,” he brushes off.

“No, really. You take it.”

“You take it,”

“You take it,” It goes on like this for a while longer, until Jack throws himself in the conversation.

“Take it where!” he yells, “In the rear!” I'm actually glad he did that, that fight probably would have gone on until we slept in the bunk together.

I roll my eyes, and turn back to Zack, “I'm not letting you sleep out there, so get in the bunk,”

“And I'm not letting you sleep out there, so you get in the bunk, too,” he commands, entering the inclosed space.

He pulls on my hand, dragging me with him. Despite my protests, he succeeds, and I crawl under the blanket with him. Even with Jack interrupting, we ended up like this.

A sudden wave of exhaustion took over my mind, my body, my eyelids, everything. Zack was so warm, and his chest reminded me of my mom's couch. Rock hard stuffing, but really soft fabric. I was out like a light the second he wrapped his arm around me, and when my hand rested just below my chin, and especially when my head hit his shoulder. It rested so perfectly there.

X

When I woke up, the first thing I saw was a bird. Its wings were out, just as if it were really flying. Then my eyes focused some more, and I noticed music notes: colorful and happy, and a sun. Then I noticed pale, white skin.

My eyes shot fully open, and I looked up and saw, sure enough, Zack Merrick. I had never seen his chest tattoos up close, and let me tell you, they're a lot sexier this way.

I looked up at his face, and he smiled at me, “Finally awake,” he sighed.

I smiled back at him. I feel great, “How long?” I asked, rubbing my eye.

“Almost twelve hours,” he said, “Now get up, I really have to pee,”

I crawled off the bunk and onto the floor. He ran off to the bus to the gas station we were parked at, and I slipped on a hoodie and some moccasins and followed, rather slowly.

Though I had slept for half a day, I'm still tired. I guess I was always like this when I first woke up. It's just hard to remember something that hasn't happened in over a week. I took it for granted.

I pull the door of the store open, and am greeted by a cheerful bell ringing. It's an old fashioned one, where the bell is hanging just above the door, and the door actually hits it. Not the new electric ones.

Well, cross that off the bucket list. I've always wanted to see one. I pull out my phone to take a picture, but Riley's voice stops me, “Elina, I'm sorry,”

What the hell is she sorry about?