If Only Until Morning

~Ryan~

Just because I got my girlfriend to kiss me did not mean everything between us was fixed; I hadn't expected it to be. She still didn't trust me, she still wasn't sleeping, and she still was spending way too much time with Shawn Harris.

Oh, and she slapped me, just to remind me that I fucked up big time. I didn't envy Alison at all, and Angie only hit me open-handed.

"Shit, man," Brendon blurted out when I rejoined the band in the bus. I nodded and waved him away. I didn't need anyone to tell me; I just needed ice.

"You know, I've never seen a handprint that perfect on anyone's face before," Jon said as I searched for an icepack. "Only in cartoons."

"Yeah, yeah," I muttered, wincing as the cold jolted my nerves. "If nothing else, everyone's learned not to get on Angie's bad side, though that's harder to do than most people realise."

"Well, lucky you," Spencer snickered, and I glared in return.

My face stopped hurting so much by the time we got to the hotel, and the perfect outline had faded, but a nice bruise had started to form on my cheek. Great; now I either had to start wearing make-up again or make up some excuse to tell fans when they asked about it.

Once we got settled into our rooms, I went off in search of Rhi. The hours-long bus ride should have been enough for her to cool off, and like hell if I was letting her continue being an insomniac. She was going to get the best sleep she’d ever gotten if it was the last thing I did. Which it might be.

I wandered the hallways, idling peering into open doors and windows, until I came across the guys of Penny Dreadful, along with their merchbitch girl. It’s alright, Beth didn’t like me either. “Hey,” I greeted, glancing at the television they were all watching: “The Italian Job”. I’d guess Matt’s choice.

I was met with similar monosyllabic greetings as only three of the five of them even bothered to look up. “Where’s Ange?” Jesse and Beth exchanged a glance and immediately redirected their attentions to the screen. Hrm, sexual tension. Matt and Sean’s silent exchange was not one of attraction, however. It ran more along the lines of “Should we tell him?” Obviously this did nothing for my mindset; it meant Angie was running amuck alone. Or worse.

“She went to see Shawn,” Aromi informed me disinterestedly, still watching the movie. “Said something about being back late. Room seven-sixteen.”

I turned on my heel and strode out the door into the hallway, a chorus of "Shit, shit, fuck, shit" running constantly through my head. The room in question was all the way across the building, as far away from where I started as possible, so I had a nice, long, harrowing walk.

I knocked on the door a little harder than I expected to-- okay, I pounded on it, but I was nervous, alright? I wasn't familiar with the members of the Matches, so it did nothing for my nerves when a solid, stockyintimidating as hell guy with a shaved head opened the door. His neutral expression dropped into a near scowl after registering me. "Oh, it's you," he said.

"Who is it?" I heard another male voice call from the bedroom.

The guy at the door rolled his eyes slightly. "I'll give you three guesses."

"I don't have time for that, Jon," the voice called back, "We're a bit busy back here!" And that's all the motivation I needed to push past the guy at the door and rush towards the voice, whom I assumed was Shawn with Angie as he said 'we'. I won't tell you what my mind leapt to, but I will tell you that my imagination is far too... imaginative.

When I burst through the bedroom door, I found Angie sitting in Shawn's lap on the bed and Shawn pressed him against her back, face tilted into her neck. "So this is what you've been doing while playing the victim all this time?" I demanded, making her jump. "Cuddling up to this guy so you can sleep at night?"

Rhi turned her head and gave me a scathing look. "Oh, you're hysterical," she said dryly. "You really are."

Shawn glanced back casually. "You know, I don't think we've actually been introduced." He grinnedsinisterly. "I'm Shawn, and you think I'm nailing your underage girlfriend."

"Shawn!" Angie protested, turning bright red and lightly hitting his chest.

He only laughed. "What? He does."

"Charming," I said flatly, before turning to Angie. "You goddamn hypocrite."

"For the final time," she explained slowly, as not to get herself angry, "Shawn is not the Lancelot to my Gwenevere." Trust Rhi to use metaphors and literary references at every opportunity.

"Then what are you doing?"

"I told you: I can't tell you!"

"Ange," Shawn interceded quietly. She blinked at him, seemingly having forgotten he was there; I sort of had too. "Just tell him."

"But we agreed--" she argued just as quietly.

"It's not worth breaking up over." He moved her off his lap and stood up. "I'm gonna leave you two kids alone now so you can figure shit out. Just try not to take too long; some of us want to sleep sometime tonight." Shawn gave me a wink as he passed me and shut the door behind him.

Both Angie and I stared at the shut door for a moment, then stared at each other. Looking down at the papers in her hands, Angie bit her lip and held them out to me. I cautiously crossed the room and sat next to her, taking them. Lyrics. And on the next page chord progressions. And then bass lines and drumbeats.

"You were writing?" I asked, reading over the lyrics. Victim is your favourite game. You play it like an ace. No hope for the opposition. "Why didn't you just say that?"

"It was meant to be a surprise," Rhi said softly. "Shawn and I were going to play them for Miles to see what he thought, then teach it to the guys, and then for everyone else on tour as a sort of thank you for letting us tour and being as amazing as they have been."

"Miles? Who's Miles?" Oh God, not another guy I had to worry about.

Angie smiled slightly. "Miles Hurwitz is the Matches' manager. He's been with them since they were my age, so I figured he would know his shit." I flipped through the pages to another song, one of promises and love and everything the narrator, obviously female, would do for the indefinite you. Siren Song was printed at the top.

"I got the idea a while ago," she explained, looking over my shoulder. "I've been asking a bunch of the guys, one at a time separately, what a girl could say to make them fall for her. I think a lot of them got the impression I was into them."

I dropped the stack into my lap and looked her in the eye. "So all of this arguing and not talking to each other was for nothing?"

"Well, not exactly nothing," Angie said casually. "A lot of it was you hanging out with Alison and her being a slut."

"I apologized profusely already," I reminded, "And I'm still going to make it up to you." I raised an eyebrow at her. "Though a sincere apology from you would be nice."

Angie leaned back on her hands and matched my expression. "You don't want me to apologise. You want me to be sorry and you want to be right. But I'm not sorry for not telling you about working with Shawn, because that's business and I don't like talking shop when I don't have to, and you're not right because we both were wrong." She shrugged slightly. "But I am sorry for making you worry so much, and I'm sorry that you thought I was cheating on you. But really, Ryan, I would think you'd know me better than that."

I could only shrug in response. "I thought so too, but jealousy is a natural human tendency." A smile hinted in her expression, and I decided this was a good time as any to start the other part of my plan. "C'mon. Let's go to sleep."

Angie raised a cryptic eyebrow at me as I took her hand and stood. "There are so many things wrong with that statement and the connotations thereof that I cannot even initiate to formulate a legitimate rejoinder."

I chuckled as we headed out. "I mean actually sleeping. Growing girls need to sleep, and I mean that in the least condescending way possible."

Sitting in the living room of the suite were Shawn, the guy who answered the door, two others I figured were the rest of the band, and another much older man, who yawned widely. "I'm so sorry for keeping you up, Miles," Angie said apologetically. "But I don't think tonight is the best time."

The older man glanced at our hands laced together and smiled. "Not a problem, Angie," he excused. "Maybe tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow would be perfect," she agreed, smiling cordially. "If that's alright with you, Shawn." I'd only ever seen her be this polite to older members of my family and interviewers; she actually seemed even farther from her age, which was a scary thought.

Shawn grinned. "Like I've got anything better to do."

Angie grinned and waved as she headed for the door. "Until then, gents." She exhaled deeply once we were in the hall and smiled wearily at me. "I hate having to talk up to people. Makes me feel inferior."

I laughed and kissed her cheek, leading us off to my room. "Second to none," I told her. "And never let anyone tell you otherwise."

"Sap," she accused, smiling.

Jon sighed when we entered our room, Angie with bag in tow. "Guess I'm switching to Aero and Beth's room, huh?" he asked, getting up from the couch.

She dropped her bag on the desk and arched an eyebrow at him. "Don't have to," she replied, rifling through it. "Your guitarist has decided that he dislikes my inability to sleep and thusly has set forth a plan to knock me out non-violently." She smirked at me. "Hopefully."

"Regardless," he continued, going to the bedroom and grabbing a pillow and blanket off his bed, "If you two are sharing a bed, I don't want to be in the room. Would be muoy awkward."

"No habla Español." I snickered and followed Rhi into the bedroom. She opened her bag, half-disappeared into it, and came back with pyjamas and toiletries. "Dibs on the bathroom," she stated, strolling for the door.

Not that I was going to argue.

After I took a shower, I returned to the bedroom to find Rhi lying in bed, covered to the shoulders by the blanket as she stared blankly at the ceiling. I turned out all the extraneous lights and climbed in beside her. A long moment passed where we both just lie there, not moving and not looking at each other. I wasn’t exactly sure what to do; I hadn’t expected the sudden despondency.

“Call me a liar,” she whispered, turning onto her side and cuddling into me. “I am sorry.”

I smiled in the dark and wrapped my arms around her, kissing her lightly on the forehead. “I would never dream of doing something as audacious as that.”

“Don’t be an ass, Ry,” Angie murmured into my shoulder.

“Apology accepted.”