Falling in Reverse

"What a fucking show!" Kennedy yawned, grabbing a towel to dab at his forehead.

"You can say that again," Pat muttered, collapsing onto the couch, "I feel like I died."

"Don't get too comfy," Garrett snickered, "That's John's bed."

"Ew!" Pat shrieked, "You mean he fucks girls here?! Oh man! There's probably so many cum stains and-"

"No you fucktard," Garrett scowled, "For the night. As in tonight and onward to whenever Kennedy gets the stick out of his ass."

"For fucks sake!" Jared exclaimed, "Can you fuck heads get it through your thick skulls that John almost raped our Elijah?!"

"Can't rape the willing," John smirked, sauntering in with a red cup plastered to his lips.

My breathing all but cut short. The mere sight of him without a shirt was hypnotizing. The way the sweat glistened down his perfectly chiseled chest. The way he had his hair slicked back, sweat being the only source of hair product holding it in place.

I forcefully gulped, turning my head when he caught me looking, sending me a wink. A gut wrenching feeling of dread filled my abdomen, causing a wave of nausea to overwhelm me.

"When I recall it to my memory," Kennedy spat, "Your hands were on his hips, basically forcing him to grind on you!"

"Maybe you should keep the fucking whore with you then!" John hollered, slamming his cup on the counter, "You act like you want him to your fucking self!"

"Maybe I do!" Kennedy exclaimed, shoving John's chest, "I sure as hell don't want your filthy hands on him!"

I gasped, my eyes going wide at the furious expression that seemed to fill every crevice of Kennedy's face. The way his eyebrows scrunched together, how his eyes narrowed into a harsh glare.

"Don't you fucking push me!" John hissed, his fist connecting with Kennedy's shoulder, "You're nothing but a fucking hypocrite! I hope you rot in hell, right along side your bastard of a friend, Adam."

How the hell is Kennedy a fucking hypocrite?! And how dare he even mention Adam's name!

"Don't even fucking go their!" Kennedy's voice cracked, "You of all people know better than to say such a fucking thing! I trusted you!"

"Then act like it." John spat, shaking his head, "Grow the hell up Kennedy... And face your fucking fears while your at it."

"What the hell does that mean?!" Kennedy questioned, crossing his arms, "If anything, you should be the one worried, I mean, especially with the sex issues."

"If you don't want me to fucking say it then you better shut your fucking mouth!" John snapped, his fist clenching together with every syllable spoken.

"Or what?" Kennedy taunted

I glanced around, bewildered that none of the guys seemed to want to step in. Pat's face resembled one of a fish, Jared was frantically punching numbers on his phone, and Garrett appeared to be trying to blend in with his surroundings.

Oh, what the hell.

I quickly scampered to my feet, flinging myself towards Kennedy. The moment I began soaring through the air, I clenched my eyes shut. I've always been afraid of heights, so I don't even know why the hell I thought jumping was a good idea.

He caught me with ease, his knees threatening to buckle beneath him as he struggled to lock his arms securely around my waist.

"What the fuck is your fucking problem!?" He snapped, "What have I-"

"Shut up, okay? Shut the hell up!" I exclaimed, "I hate seeing you two argue! Especially throwing fucking punches! It's all my fault! If I would've just ignored John's lame passes at me we wouldn't be in this situation!"

"Don't you take the blame for this!" He hissed, dropping me beside Jared, "John made his own fucking bed. Let him lay in it."

"Don't you mean couch?"

Almost every paused, eyes wide in disbelief that Pat of all people would speak up during Kennedy's angry rant.

"That's what it is," Pat shrugged innocently, a sheepish smile adorning his face.

"Yes Patrick, he's making his bed on the couch, happy?" Kennedy muttered, attempting to fight off a small grin.

"I'm just-"

The sound of the door slamming open seemed to cause everyone to stop and look. My eyebrows furrowed in confusion at the sight of Tim running in with wide eyes, gasping for air.

"Who has the gun!?"

Nothing was said. We all shared glances, my eyes narrowing at the empty spot that John once stood in.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Garrett spoke up

"Jared sent me a message!" Tim exclaimed, digging out his phone, "It said: Tim! Urdu the he'll up! John finding and he looks like hes bout to pull out gun and start shooting!"

"Oh, well." Jared muttered, "Blame it on spell check."

"Well, okay, that explains one thing." Tim nodded, "But please, tell me, what could've tooken "finding and looks like he's about to pull out a gun and start shooting" replaced?!"

"Technically, it was John and Kennedy." Jared shrugged, "I just put John 'cause it saved time, y'know? And he did look like that. I swear. Actually, he looked like he could wring Kennedy's neck. And I sure as hell wasn't about to put that! He wouldn't had the time to actually do it."

"Still, why did you tell me?!"

"You're the manager!'

"But Max is your tour manager," Tim said smugly, "Plus, I couldn't have stopped Kennedy and John fighting! Do I look like I could handle that?!"

"You just called yourself weak." Pat butted in, a snicker making it way out of his mouth.

Tim shot him a glare, crossing his arms before glancing back at Jared expectantly.

"Well, I thought.. no." Jared trailed off

"Oh, well, why the hell were they even fighting?"

"Y'know, stuff,"

"No. Please enlighten me."

"It could have something to do with John molesting Elijah." Jared shrugged, "But that's just a maybe."

"Almost- What?!" Tim shrieked, "You guys never keep me fucking informed! Where the hell is John now!?"

"I'm not his keeper!" Jared exclaimed, "Geesh, you tell a man about a fight and he expects you to know about the whole damn world."

"Wait-" Garrett scrunched up his nose, "Where's Kennedy?"

Almost too suddenly, a feeling of dread began to overwhelm me. I sucked in a deep breath, my eyes glaring at the previous spot Kennedy once occupied.

Fuck.