Even Lovers Drown

Casual sips of lemonade hydrated Saylor, defeating the exhaustion and heaviness energy drinks left her with. The foldout chair she lounged on, the one Davy stole from a storage room somewhere in the venue, gave her a chance to relax before the doors opened. Next to her, Davy reclined comfortably in his own foldout chair, drinking an orange soda and energy drink concoction he demanded the concession stand worker create and name after him.

"This is so good," Davy sighed.

"You're going to kill yourself drinking that," Saylor commented. "You should have gotten lemonade or water. Here." She held her cup out to him. "Have a sip. It's just as good."

She choose lemonade over coffee and more energy drinks, opting not to drink what only made her crash once it wore off. Caffeinated drinks sparked a cycle of consumption, wearing off, terrible exhaustion, and more consumption. Lemonade was better, lemonade was refreshing.

To think she was planning on staying awake every night with the help of energy drinks. That was laughable. The plan, which she came up with and committed to after a nightmare, would cause her to burnout within days. She couldn't keep attempting to stay up all night. Suffering through the nightmares wouldn't be that bad as long as she remembered they wouldn't come true anymore. She wouldn't let herself get hurt like that again

Davy pulled a face of disgust, sticking his tongue out childishly and crinkling his nose. "That has no caffeine or alcohol. Mine is better."

"Mine won't knock my heart rate up to abnormal speeds or impair my judgment. Guess I win."

"Not listening," Davy sang, plugging one ear with his index finger, his other hand clutching his drink.

The only way Saylor could respond was with a fond shake of her head and a smile. Her brother, he was something else, acting as her rock one moment and acting like a five-year-old with no boundaries the next.

She took another sip of her lemonade and slouched further in her seat, comfortable. The comfort would be stripped from her soon, replaced by swarms of fans demanding she give them this shirt or that bracelet. She didn't want to get up, didn't want to deal with merch work. She was content sitting around, doing nothing.

"What time is it?" Saylor asked.

If she had to work, which she did, she could at least mentally prepare herself in the little time they had. Long hours standing, rude customers, making mock-pleasant conversation about bands she barely knew, doing work that wasn't half as satisfying to her as her original choice in profession. She needed mental preparation.

The traveling was the main perk, her reason for agreeing to be a merch worker. She wanted to get away, and that was what she was doing. So there were downsides that backpacking across Europe may not have had, she was still doing what she needed to do for her mental health. She would go back to school one day and become the nurse she always wanted to be. No one would stop her this time.

Davy unplugged his ear and grabbed his phone from the table of stacked shirts behind them. Tapping the touch screen, he woke his phone. His eyebrows drew together, something on his screen taking his attention away from the time. Mumbling a "Hold on," he tapped the screen. His green eyes scanned over, what must have been, a text message. His fingers flew over his keyboard, quickly typing a response. Saylor waited for him to finish, watching his actions until he returned his cell phone to its place on the back table.

"We have five minutes," he said.

"Fantastic," Saylor mumbled.

Five minutes to prepare for the least fun part of her day. She was beginning to think she just wasn't enough of a people person to handle merch work. But she loved the idea of being a nurse, no matter how rude the patients were. Couldn't she find the same acceptance of customers and manage to enjoy serving them?

No, no, she could not. This wasn't the same as being a nurse, wasn't quiet as fulfilling to her. She couldn't avoid irritation with rude teenagers and drunk adults who thought her only goal in life was to give them band merchandise.

"On the bright side, you get to sleep on the bus tonight," Davy said.

"What?"

As far as she knew, she was going to crash in the backmost seat of the van, curled up in a fashion that would leave her arm numb and back aching. She didn't recall sleeping on a tour bus as part of her plan for the night, especially not Say Goodbye's. She and Blake may have been on decent terms, and her body may have decided Blake would make its every function work improperly, but sleeping on the bus was pushing her mental comfort level.

"You heard me."

"Since when am I sleeping on the bus?"

"Since Blake texted me and offered."

The text that distracted his attention before he gave her the time. Of course. Blake hadn't gotten the chance to show up at the merch table, aside from her moment attempting to take on Saylor's job, she had to get in touch some way. Saylor hadn't answered her text the night before, so she went through Davy.

And Saylor hadn't been consulted in the decision.

"You decided for me," Saylor stated, deadpan.

Davy shrugged, abnormally casual considering the energy drink and soda mix he continued to sip. "I figured you needed it."

"I'm sorry, I'm not the one with the obsession."

After all, Sarah and Jenny slept on the bus to fix their fan girl obsession with the band. Not because they needed it, but because Davy needed them cured. Saylor didn't need a nonexistent obsession fixed. Sleeping on the bus was unnecessary torture.

"Look," Davy said, placing his drink on the front table and twisting to face her, "you haven't been sleeping well. I think a change in the sleeping situation would help you get some more rest."

The things she needed fixed couldn't be helped by sleeping on the Say Goodbye tour bus. They could be made worse. Having a nightmare, then waking up confined in the same space as Blake, Saylor couldn't handle that. Blake was beginning to have less and less in common with Katie, but Saylor didn't know if her subconscious would keep that in mind, if the nightmares would make her extremely uncomfortable with Blake even though she wouldn't get hurt the same way. And she certainly wasn't ready to test herself.

"I don't think sleeping on the bus is going to change that."

"You may as well try."

"But the sleeping situation isn't the reason I haven't been sleeping well. The van is comfortable enough, and the girls don't keep me awake."

Avoiding nightmares did. Those retched memories controlled her sleeping, kept her up when she preferred to be asleep and woke her before she desired. The situation in the van was fine. She didn't mind Sarah and Jenny chatting in the backseat, didn't mind the music that was occasionally blasted, didn't mind the awkward position she was forced to sleep in.

"Shut up. The van is not comfortable. That thing needs to retire," Davy said.

"Alright, the van is a little uncomfortable, but I'm okay with that."

"I'm not. Andy's going to agree to buying a new van soon, though. I just need to convince him that our hunk of junk is unusable."

A distraction that could work in Saylor's advantage. Keep him talking about the van and he would forget how the conversation started. Or he wouldn't have a chance to push the idea of sleeping on the bus. Either would end with Saylor sleeping in the van, where she wouldn't have to handle nightmares alongside seeing Blake first thing in the morning.

"And you plan to do that how?"

"Total it and claim the brakes gave out."

"That doesn't sound safe."

"It's the only thing I have aside from tie Andy to a bed and bust out some whipped cream."

"What?"

They were not close enough to be having this conversation. He was still her older brother. There were boundaries in their relationship, and telling Saylor about his sexual fantasies was overstepping those boundaries.

"He's lactose intolerant," Davy said, "It's not a very plausible idea. He would cave, but I don't want to threaten him to get what I want."

"Oh."

"Yeah." Davy nodded to himself and grabbed his drink from the table. He began bringing the straw to his lips but stopped short. "Oh, after we're done loading, grab whatever you need for the night. Blake will get you from the van."

He remembered. Of course. Making him deviate from the topic enough to forget was too much to hope for.

"Do I get any say in this?" Saylor asked.

"Unless that 'say' is an 'Okay, Davy,' no."

"Fine," Saylor sighed.

The argument would get no where. Davy thought he had her best interests in mind and would stick to his decision. And maybe he did truly have her nightmares in mind. Maybe he thought a change in scenery would help them disappear. Disagreeing and arguing wouldn't help her regardless. She would spend the night on the bus, and that was that. Until the nightmares started, she would be fine. And if they didn't start, waking up and seeing Blake first thing in the morning wouldn't be so bad.