Destined to Explode

I smile weakly as the girl thanks me for the t-shirt, quickly rushing away to push her way back into the crowd, her friends following her loyally, that group hopefully the end of the rush that had been caused by We The Kings ending and the promise of All Time Low in about ten minutes, Evan’s music choices keeping everyone cheery and helping the atmosphere.
Vinny watches me with worried eyes as I collapse back into the fold up chair that we always have behind the table, the shirts that usually occupy it now discarded onto the floor.

“Pop, if you wanna go lay down or something, I can handle your stuff too.”

I shake my head, “I’m fine, it’s just a stomach flu, Vin. It’ll pass. Best to sweat it out.”

“At least let me ask Matt to bring us more water? You gotta keep yourself hydrated, kiddo.”

I shrug in reply, another customer approaches us, eyes scanning the Glamour Kills stuff before she grins and waves at me, and I’m on my feet again.

-----

“I can’t have any more pain killers, Lex.” I groan, hearing the clicking of the bottle grow closer, my eyes tight closed as I lay on my back in the dressing room of the venue, the pain that had suddenly flared half way through their set refusing to leave, despite having my fill of pain meds.

A few minutes later and I’m sobbing, the pain having suddenly intensified even further without warning, Alex sat behind me as I rock myself, knees pulled up tightly to my chest with my face pressed into my knees, my jeans turning a darker shade of blue as they soak up my tears caused by this not so normal stomach ache. Any contact on the right side of my stomach was further agony, as I’d learned when Alex had tried to soothe a hand over it.

“Jack, go find Matt, we have to get her to a hospital or something. This isn’t right.” I’m huddled in on myself, Alex in as close proximity as he can, scared of causing me more pain as Jack almost sprints from the room, everyone else’s worried eyes on me as the feeling of someone searing my insides with hot pokers continues.

I’d normally protest from the fuss, but even I knew this wasn’t healthy, the pain pushing me to the point where I might pass out.

“Ambulance or cab, Alex?” Matt’s voice is present in the room again, having left to go tell people to get the fans to move on because no one could go meet them while I was in the state.

“Poppy?”

I shake my head roughly, “W-we need to get to the next c-city.” I whimper, “I can cope.”

“Now’s not the time to be hero, kid. Just hold on in there.” Matt crouches to pat my foot before he’s twirling out of the room again, “I’ll call a cab, no flashing lights.”

“Lex, I can cope until-.”

“No you can’t, Ok? Just sit tight, baby and for the sake of everyone’s sanity, shut up about being alright.”

-----

Alex’s P.O.V.

“If you’d have gotten her here any later, the infection would have likely spread, and Miss Zicarelli would be in a far worse state than she is now.”

“But, she’ll be alright?”

The doctor nods with a what I suppose is a reassuring smile, “She’s recovering now, and once we get her into a private room, you can see her. The nurse will be with you shortly.”

Matt turns to us with his own smile as the doctor walks away again, squeezing Jack’s shoulder as he finally cracks a smile.

“We can all stop worrying now, OK? The surgery went fine, she’s going to be OK.” He nods at me as I keep worrying my lip between my teeth, “I’ll call the boys, let them know what’s happening.”

He walks away as I drag Jack to sit back in our seats line along the corridor of the Emergency waiting room, Poppy having been whisked off almost three hours ago, her appendix having burst and need to be removed, the infection having luckily stayed in a small area, at least according to the guy who’d taken out the useless organ.

“What is going to happen, Lex? We can’t leave her here, but we can’t miss the show and there’s no way she’s going to be discharged before then.” His voice is tired, the alcohol consumed before and during the show gone, just stress evident in his eyes as he looks to be for answer.

I shrug, the same thoughts having run through my head.
It was pretty set in rule that as long as we were all OK to perform, the show would happen, no matter the situation, except of course, death, but thank god, that wasn't the case this time.

“I think we better call her Mom, let her know, see what she thinks.” I grumble, “You gonna stay here, or do you want to do it?

“I think I’d better.” He sniffs, pulling out his phone as he stands, squeezing my shoulder I slump down again, hoping it’s not too long before we’re allowed to see Poppy, and I can prove to myself that she’s perfectly fine.