I Wanna Be Somebody

“Thanks for letting me make an idiot out of myself!”

“Me?” I demanded, not bothering to keep the scoff that followed from escaping my lips. “I’m not the one who did six shots of vodka and five of Jack to prove myself to Sabaton. I didn’t force all that down your throat. River, you need to take responsibility for your actions. If I was Isaac, I wouldn’t be real pleased eith—”

The blonde guitarist was on her feet in an instant, moving much quicker than anyone would have given her credit for, given the state she'd been in last night. Her movements were far from graceful, though, as she struggled for a moment to gain her balance, blanket falling to the floor around her feet. “Okay, I get it!” She hollered, voice hoarse. “Just go!”

“I’m just saying,” I replied, lifting my arms in defeat. Turning her brilliant blue eyes to me in a glare, despite the headache it probably brought, River's arms crossed in anger, not at all pleased with me.

“Whatever,” she snapped bitterly.

“River-” The rest of my words fell on deaf ears as she marched off, putting distance between us. My eyes followed River's retreating form until she disappeared into the bathroom. The flimsy door shut with a slam and the sounds of her retching up whatever she'd ingested the day before followed. Letting out a sigh, I slipped my visor sunglasses over my eyes and made my way to the door of the bus to rejoin Mark, leaving River to her own devices and to think. If she needed anything, she could drag one of the twins out of bed.

Stepping outside into the warm sunlight, my eyes immediately landed on my longtime best friend. So called 'partners in crime' by the twins, Mark and I had met back when we were involved with our city's resident choir. I was there to learn to sing, while he was there as a sort of apprentice to the orchestra's conductor, studying classical music. At odds with damn near everyone around us for several years, our friendship had stuck it out through a lot, lasting upwards of a decade and was still going strong. Ever since the day we first met, we had always looked out for each other; we had nearly been inseparable, but being in our own bands had led us down different paths. Now, we were back together, touring together, and I couldn't be more thankful for it. I had missed him.

Dearly.

Rather than being greeted with his usual brilliant smile, I was instead met with a questioning look and I knew what was coming.

“How'd she take it?”

“I've had more pleasant conversations with my mother,” I replied, sitting down next to him on the curb. Confronting River post-drunken night when the antics got a little too out of hand was never fun, but all of us in the band had to look after each other. That was just part of the life we'd chosen.

Sitting side by side, Mark slung his arm over my shoulder and I leaned into him, dreading what I knew was going to be a very long day. My answer to his question had at least earned me a brilliant smile, one which made his brown eyes glitter in the sunlight- so that was a positive.

“That says a lot,” he laughed, the sound rumbling from his chest with such an inviting timbre that I couldn't help but smile as well. “Speaking of your mother,” he continued. “Are you going to go see your family when we're back in the Netherlands?”

Bristling at what had always -and probably always would be- a touchy subject, I released Mark from my hold and moved away from him, leaning forward with my arms resting across my knees to support my weight. Silence fell between us as I contemplated his words.

When it came to the topic of my family, I was constantly torn. My mother and I didn't see eye to eye in the least bit, and I hadn't gotten along with my brother, Egon, since we were kids. Years of fighting and harsh words had created a rift between us that I wasn't sure could ever be fixed and that in turn had damaged my relationship with the rest of my family. The constant screaming matches between the three of us, which had on more than one occasion nearly turned violent, had practically made me a stranger to my niece and nephew, and even more damning, the animosity had left my younger brother, Mathijs, wanting nothing to do with us.

I couldn't fault him for wanting distance -freedom- because it was all I had ever wanted, too, but I did miss him. My being away touring with Memento Mori certainly hadn't helped things between us, but we made sure to keep in contact whenever our busy schedules let us. In the time since I had really been home, due to working with the band, Mathijs had been going to school for psychology and music therapy. He had managed to find the middle ground between passion and practicality that had eluded me; he was a beautiful blend of our parent's personalities, while Egon and I seemed to be the extremes, always clashing and butting heads.

And then, of course, there was our mother... Judgmental and manipulative, if it wasn't Nyk's bad attitude that made me want to avoid my immediate family like they were the plague, then my mother's very presence did the job. In the end, though, I always ended up going home at least once in a while.

Mathijs kept me coming back, despite everything.

“I haven't decided yet, to be honest,” I answered finally, trying not to think of my family. Needing something to distract me, my eyes scanned over the few tattoos that decorated both of my arms. I had gotten two new ones since I had last seen my mother. One of them was a variation of the band's grim reaper featuring vibrant accents of blue, red, green and some purple, while the other was a simple black and grey star, identical to the one that Oblivion had on his left shoulder. The star was my own little mark of admiration and respect for my best friend and band mate -which he may or may not have been aware even existed- while the reaper was something all of us in the band had inked on us in some way. Despite the sincere meaning behind both, I knew already that my mother would not approve. It wasn't like I cared; she hadn't approved of the other tattoo she knew I had, which I had gotten my freshman year of college.

I was just dreading her reaction to the reaper, which was much more obvious than a small band of music notes on my upper left arm. No doubt, she'd curl her lip up in disgust upon seeing it.

If she saw it. If I decided to return home for a visit. At least this time, the tattoo was completely healed and it wouldn't hurt if my mother decided to grab me in her anger...

Wincing slightly at that particular memory, I took a deep breath in an effort to clear my mind before adding, “I'll give Mathijs a call to see if he's still having classes during that time and I'll go from there.” Mark, knowing better than to comment on whatever emotions he saw passing through my eyes as he fixed his gaze on me, listening intently while I spoke, simply nodded.

“I'm sure Mathijs, regardless of whether or not he has class,” Mark started tentatively, “ would love to see you. As would your uncle.” Smiling at the mention of my beloved uncle, I clapped Mark on the back, standing up as I spotted Tygo making his way towards us.

“Like I said, we'll see.”

“See what,” Tygo questioned, voice quiet and slightly hoarse. Arching an eyebrow as I regarded him, I couldn't help but noticed how exhausted he looked.

“You look like hell, man.” A look of annoyance quickly flashed in his vibrant, yet tired, blue eyes. “Did you even sleep,” I questioned, realizing he was wearing the same clothes as last night.

With his hands shoved deep in the pockets of his black jeans, shoulders hunched and head kept low against the glare of the bright sun, Ty looked to be absolutely exhausted -something that was rare given the fact that the man was a bit of a workaholic that could function on only 4 hours of sleep at night.

“I took the boys of Sabaton home last night,” Ty answered in a matter of fact tone, as if that one sentence was all we needed to know. Mark's amused chuckle proved him right.

“I don't know who,” Ty started, a charming grin forming on his face, “but one of them is going to have a seriously rough time cleaning out the car. I hope they have a gas mask.”

Letting out a laugh at Ty's words and the look of immense relief on his face as he said them, I motioned towards the bus.

“C'mon, guys. We need to get on the road-”

“Within the next twenty minutes,” Ty cut in with a quick glance down at the timezone clock on his phone. I smiled at the gesture; even being as tired as he was, he managed to stay on top of our hectic schedule. Somehow, Tygo kept track of all the times, dates, places and all the other important information that the rest of had a tendency to forget. Half the time, I couldn't even remember what city we were in, especially when we were in the bus. Going to sleep in one country and then waking up in another tended to have that effect.

“We're heading to Oslo, right?” Ty nodded, long strands of his loose brown hair slightly obscuring his face.

“Yep,” he answered shortly as we made our way up the steps into the bus. “So get comfy.”

-

I glanced up from my book as a sleepy groan tore itself from low in Ty's throat. Sitting up from where he sat next to me on the couch, trying to get some rest, he ran a hand through his long hair before swiftly getting up. As he made his way towards the kitchen area of the bus, I took notice to the sounds of cabinet drawers opening and closing, as well as various things being shifted around. I had been so absorbed into my book that I hadn't noticed.

Who was making all that noise?

Appearing from the shadows of bunk alley like a silent specter from fog, Oblivion sent me a confused, questioning look. Shrugging, I stood up and followed after Tygo to the kitchen area, my band mate close behind. What we were met with was almost a comical sight.

Almost.

Kristian stood toe to toe with Ty, actually looking formidable with his arms crossed over his chest. His rigid demeanor didn't change at all even as our manager sent an intense glare his way. Several empty boxes of cereal, empty bags and containers lined what little counter space we had, while cabinets, also relatively empty hung open.

“I'm gonna kill him,” Kris snapped in a low voice, a fierce frown marring features that were usually happy and kind.

“What the hell is going on?” Ty questioned, trying to maintain his calm.

“We have no food!” Kris barked, throwing his hands up in frustration. “We just stocked the damn bus two nights ago!” He paused for a moment, only to let out a huff of annoyance.

”Someone,” the Dane growled out with a pointed glance to the front of the bus, where Avaalon was, sitting with our driver. “Ate all the damn food when he was drunk last night.”

“That would explain why he threw up so much this morning,” Oblivion remarked quietly, voice flat. Biting back a smile at the piano player's frustration, I made my way past him towards the small refrigerator.

“Don't worry, Kris. I stashed a bag of microwavable chicken nuggets in the back...” I trailed off as I dug through the contents of the tiny freezer section, in the back left corner behind the extra bag of ice we always tried to keep on hand. Shoving it and a small bottle of some sort of alcohol that no one on the bus liked out of the way, I let out a foul curse. Making a face, I turned back to Kris, who still stood with his arms crossed.

“Now you see why I'm pissed. I'm hungry, damn it.”

Ty let out a yawn, stretching his arms in front of him as he opened his mouth to speak. I cut him off.

“Avaalon Jakobson!” I yelled out, storming toward the front of the bus. The red headed drummer appeared in an instant, a worried look on his face.

“What,” he asked frantically. “What's wrong?”

“You ate my chicken nuggets, you asshole!”

“And what was left of my homemade Mørbradbøf that Emi made me,” Kris chimed in grumpily.

A sheepish look crossed the drummer's face as he rubbed nervously at the back of his neck. “Oh, yeah. About that...” He trailed off. “I got a craving for a midnight snack.”

“So you eat us out of house and home?” Kristian questioned, his voice sharp with disbelief and frustration.

“Okay, okay. Calm down,” Ty interjected, finally, his eyes scanning over the screen of his phone as he checked over the time and our schedule. “We can stop to restock the bus, but only if you're quick about it. We'll stop at the nearest store, you've got forty five minutes. Use it wisely.” At that, Ty turned sharply, leaving us. Kris fixed his brown eyes on Avaa, who quickly disappeared back to the front of the bus to let out driver know we were stopping.

“Jess, you should probably go wake up River." Silently, I nodded in response to Oblivion's suggestion and then turned and made my way back through the bus. River had retreated back to her bunk after our earlier conversation and hadn't really shown her face much since then. Figuring that she didn't want to talk to me, I had left her to sleep off her hangover and think and peace.

Hopefully, that had helped some. She still had to face Isaac, though, at some point or another. This unexpected stop was as good a time as any.

The blonde guitarist jerked awake as I laid my hand on her arm to get her attention and I winced as she latched onto my arm, momentarily thinking I was a threat.

“Hey, it's just me. Don't worry,” I spoke, quickly trying to calm her down. Would there ever be a time when she didn't come awake with fear? After all the years I'd known River, I was beginning to think she'd never have such luck.

“What's going on,” she asked, her voice cracking slightly.

“Avaa's black hole of a stomach has struck again. We've stopped to restock on food, so get up. You're coming with us.”

She responded with grabbing her pillow and shoving it in my face.

“I'm serious Riv,” I added, laughing slightly as she mumbled curses at me. “Haul ass, American.”

Letting out another string of curses, she rolled out of her bunk and onto her feet. Satisfied that she was up and about, I reached into Kris' bunk for a bottle of water, handing it to her with a small smile before making my way back to the front of the bus as it turned into the shopping area. Once it came to a complete stop, Kris barged through the door, making a bee-line for the nearest place that sold groceries. Smiling over the pianist's antics, I stepped off the bus, merging with the other musicians that had decided to join the abrupt shopping trip.

“Jessii!” Pausing as my name sounded from a familiar voice behind me, I turned to see Mark making his way towards me. Further back, behind him, River emerged from the bus, walking slowly behind the rest of the group, stride for stride with Isaac.

Turning my attention back to Mark, I smiled and linked arms with him as we made our way inside the store.