Destined to Explode

Jack finally stops trying to knock me out by tackling me onto the sofas in the dressing room, more often than not he misjudging the distance and sending us both crashing to the floor until Matt finally puts an end to it when I hit my head on the concrete floor.
Someone emerges with enough McDonald's to feed an army an hour before Hey Monday are due on stage and that’s when the drinking starts. Not only do they have alcohol ordered on the runner, but between the bands and crews it’s like being at a bar, a ton of different bottles being passed back and forth and I daren’t even hazard a guess at how much beer is suddenly present in the room we’ve all cramped together in.

The drinking only intensifies when the first band go to play, a band called Young Guns who seem like pretty decent guys from the few hours I’d spent around them and the music was something I’d definitely listen to, or so I gather from the muffled version I get from the backstage room.
Just as Hey Monday prepare to go on stage, Vinny flits off to go handle merch, yelling back as Matt urges him on, that I should go join him because more guys buy merch when I’m there - something he’d apparently observed.
I enjoy Hey Monday’s set from side stage, stood with Rian as he watches his girlfriend, just like every other night and just as they kick into their last song as I scoot backstage, dealing out high fives that some of the crew ask for as they prepare to set up the rest of the stage as quickly as possible, and I manage to buck it back to the quickly emptying dressing room before Cass even gets to finish the first chorus.

Alex is walking around brushing his teeth, the glass of offending red wine still in hand, Jack engrossed in his phone, still and Zack is just sat tapping his thighs to some music only he’s hearing because in no way does it match what everyone else is inadvertently listening to.
Matt sweeps in, giving out instructions on where to be in how many minutes with what guitar and so on and so forth until he at least thinks everyone knows where they should be. I feel a little bad interrupting his little speech but I need a pass to be able to move around and with a smile that assures me he isn’t too mad he flicks a laminated pass in my direction and tells me to get to merch before everyone starts shoving back to the front again.

I bet some people would find my obsession with selling merch to be a little weird, but there was something satisfying about selling a shirt or a poster to someone so that they can be reminded of the good time that they (hopefully) had. Memories fade and you know, you may grow out of the shirt and the poster might get torn and folded but they still exist as proof after so many years that you spent a night with people just like you and you didn’t have to care about being judged.
I still had ticket stubs and ripped set lists that I’d fought to keep from the gigs I’d gone to when I was a teenager, hell, I even had a tatty piece of paper that Jack had made Patrick Stump sign when I’d been to shy to ask.

When the guys finally start their set the queues trickles down to a few parents deciding they’ll give in to their kids begging and then to a halt, giving Vinny the perfect opportunity to rant on and on about how crappy it was just working with the venue employees and then swings around until he’s reeling of drinks I have to try on my birthday, he personally banning me from just drinking beer the whole night.

I can just tell my the end of the weekend, I’m going to be exhausted.

-----

“Pop.”

I huff, turn over, pull the slim duvet back over my shoulder and relax again.

“Poppy, come on, wake up.”

I kick a leg back, hoping it connects with some part of Alex and that he gets the hint that I do not want to be awake right now.

“Poppy, I swear, I will pull you out that bunk if you don’t wake up.”

I flip rather violently back onto my other side, eyes open as I take in Alex grinning, ducking to look into the bunk, “What could you possibly want? It’s still dark!”

I hadn’t been particularly tired when I’d climbed into the bunk, what with my body clock still thinking it was six hours earlier in the day, but with the combination of the dark, the semi-comfortable place to lie down and Alex tucked in with me, I’d apparently fallen asleep.
Yet, here it was, the butt-crack of dawn, and Alex was trying to pull me out of bed by my foot.

“We’ve stopped.”

“And?” I whine, rubbing my hands over my eyes before I actually check the time, it being just gone four in the morning, “Oh my god, I hate you. Have you seen the time?”

“Yep. You want to come for a walk to the service station?”

“Why would I?” I look at him in disbelief - his insomnia apparently accelerated while he was away and I was the one reaping the rewards.

“Driver’s taking a two hour nap so he can keep driving legally. I want something decent to eat.”

“It’s four am, Lex. Go invade the candy stash.”

“But it’s the perfect time for donuts and fresh coffee.”

“From a greasy rest stop in the middle of nowhere, England?”

“It’s better than staying cramped in here. Major cabin fever.”

“I was asleep.”

“Well, not anymore babe, come on.”

I continue to glare at him as he smiles and holds his hand out, until I just give in, swinging my legs out of the comforter and slide onto the floor, immediately feeling the temperature difference. I raise my eyebrows as I look down at my bare legs and back up at Alex who’s somewhat dressed in his sweats and huge hoody.

“Could I borrow some clothes?”

It’s not totally appealing when he just searches around on the floor, throwing me who knows whose sweatpants and a hoody that’s been tucked up at the bottom of his own bunk probably since the start of tour. I don’t even bother trying to find the shoes I’d kicked off earlier, just slipping someone’s kicks on even though they’ll be at least two sizes too big with belonging to one of the boys.

“You look kind of like a hobo.” Alex stifles his laughter as he tugs my reluctant self from the bus by my hand, “A cute one though, I promise.”

“Nice save, asshole.”

I feel like a rag doll as he drags across the tarmac of the truck stop, other truck drivers eyeing us both as we wander into the small store come diner, Alex spotting the donut cabinet before I’m even fully in the door. I follow after him without paying much attention, focusing more on not tripping over the clown shoes I’d put on and tugging the waistband of the sweats up repeatedly to stop them falling down completely.
I can only imagine what the clerk thinks when we go to pay. Two yanks dressed like they’ve rolled around in a closet, buying Coffee and donuts before the suns even come up. He probably concludes that we’re high, which it was I would think in this situation.

Instead of doing the completely sensible thing and taking the hot drinks and snacks back to the bus to consume, you know, where it’s warm, Alex wanders off around the side of the building, plonking himself on a picnic bench with a happy sigh.

“Are you kidding me right now?”

“Stop being awkward and come sit.” He pats his lap as I actually begin to walk over, but in a moment of stubbornness I take the seat opposite, poking my tongue out before I rip a bite off one of the donuts. “You’re so moody. Stop sitting to far away.”

“This is punishment for waking me up.” I mumble around a mouthful of the treat, wrinkling my nose at the awful coffee that I attempt to wash it down with.

“I offer you my deepest apologies, now, get over here.”

He’s pretty hard to resist on his off days, but with him sat pouting with his arms open, hair sticking out at odd angles from sleep, looking extremely cosy and huggable, I can’t stop myself from sliding onto the bench next to him, leaning against him when his arm swings around to rest across my shoulders.

“I admit, it’s more comfortable over here, save the fact that there’s a black abyss behind us.”

“Also known as a field.”

“Yeah, but it’s pitch black out there.”

“Are you scared?”

“There could be an axe murderer on the loose!”

Alex burst into laughter shaking his head as I cross my arms, pursing my lips as I scoot away from him, he shaking his head as he looks back up at me, “Fuck, I love you.”

“Yeah well, you’ve seen all those English horrors- Wait, what?”

“I, uh, love you?”

Those words had been exchanged before, but not in this sort of situation. We’d said it aplenty as friends over the years but hearing them represent the feeling in the true sense was a little startling. He and I had been together, what was now almost four months and I’d judge anybodies else’s relationship with skeptical eyes if I’d heard them speak those eight letters so soon, but we seemed to be an exception.
The decade or so of knowing each other really left no room for uncertainty in each other, and if there was anything we didn’t know about one and other, it probably wasn’t worth thinking about.

My face breaks into a grin before I can stop it, but my voice comes out the shyest it probably ever has, “I love you too.”