A Tale of Outer Suburbia

[002]

Alex is the first one awake the next morning, which is kind of surprising since Flyzik's usually the first one up. But then again, Flyzik was letting go for one night, partying it up with the guys even though he's got to make sure everything's in line for the show the next day. It's his last tour with All Time Low, maybe even with any other band.

He's quitting his job to settle down, get a proper grip on his life. He's been with the guys in All Time Low since they first started touring, basically, so those boys were family. Every crew member was family, even the fans were family. He'd been given the title of being the unofficial fifth member of All Time Low and he graciously accepts it, because who's he to deny it?

But like all good things, his tour managing has to come to an end, too. Flyzik's almost thirty. He wants to settle down with his girl, get married, have a couple of kids; all that sort of thing. And the guys of All Time Low, as his best friends, completely understand that. One last tour, and then they wouldn't have him to annoy anymore, wouldn't get to have a crowd of fifty thousand people firing him, wouldn't get to tease him about his scary unusual obsession with Mickey Mouse.

They're determined to make this last tour a fucking amazing one for him and that included getting him drunk even when he wasn't supposed to be. Alex slips out of his bunk, feet landing softly on the ground as he stifles a yawn, ruffling his hair with both his hands. It's probably still really fucking early, that's why everything's so quiet. He had gotten back at around midnight the night before and he was right about his tour mates partying it up – they were doing at a pub the opposite way to where he'd walked in. That meant that the bus was empty.

Alex didn't even want to go on his phone, research things about the black hole and space, in general, because he suddenly felt so tired. So he went to bed, for the first time in years, at midnight. Didn't even stir when his loud and drunken mates boarded the bus.

Literally no one else is awake. The bus driver's even asleep. It's better that way, anyway. Alex doesn't want to talk to anyone. If they were awake, they would probably ask why he'd left. They understood that he sometimes got pensive and needed to get away from them – which led to why they hadn't tried to call him when (or if) they realised he was gone. But they were still concerned about him because he spaced out a lot more often than usual and his well-rehearsed smile was probably starting to get a little more fake than he'd like for it to be.

Alex didn't want them worrying about them. Didn't want to bother them with his petty problems. Well, they weren't exactly petty to him, but they probably would be to the lads. They would also probably call him out for being a dick before trying to convince him to go back and get Zooey. Which he really wanted to do, don't get him wrong, he just knew that she could do so much better than him and had already probably forgotten about him.

She'd said it herself – when she walked away and he let her.



"You never say 'bye', how come?" Alex had observed, because it was true. In the times that he'd hung out with her – be it as a patron at the bar while she worked, or when they'd bumped into each other, she never said 'bye.' It was always a 'see you,' and Alex was curious.

Zooey shrugged. "Goodbye means going away, and going away means forgetting."



Alex stood rooted to the ground, expressionless as he looked at her using the back of her hand to wipe at her eyes. Zooey shook her head a little, turning on her heel with two words that he wished he would've never ever have to hear coming out from her perfect set of lips.

"Goodbye, Alex."



"Get out of my head," he mutters under his breath as he took a seat on the leather lounge in the front of the bus, rubbing furiously at his eyes and then at his temples. "I don't need fucking reminders of how stupid I was. I know how stupid I was. Just get the fuck out of my head."

Alex knew that if anyone else in the bus woke up at saw him talking to himself, they'd probably think that he was mentally unstable. Talking out loud helped him simply because he didn't talk to anyone else about what was bothering him. He couldn't. He didn't want to be a bother. He was going to get through this thing by himself and none of them would ever have known that he was heartbroken in the first place.

He was determined to get through it alone, because this was his mess that he brought upon himself. He could've been with Zooey so happily, but he was dumb and paranoid and insecure. He made it so that she had to walk away. It was his fault, and only his.

Alex breathes out a sigh, tilting his head back as he did so. His eyes remain open, unseeing, as he stares at the ceiling. It's like his mind's decided that now's the best time to remind him of what was probably the best two weeks of his life. Every little moment – every laugh shared, every tear shed, every kiss, every minuscule moment of how they'd had sex and it was the best damn sex that he'd had.

Quiet footsteps make his head snap towards the sound, landing on the sleepy and definitely hungover black-haired tour manager. "Morning," he croaks out, voice hoarse. "How come you're up so early?"

Alex shrugs, "Slept early, woke up early," he says by explanation. It's true though. When he sleeps early, he tends to wake up early. It's like his body refuses to let him sleep some more once he's had seven hours of sleep since he's so used to surviving off of four hours, or five – on a good day.

Flyzik hums, settling down onto the lounge next to Alex, "My head's killing me."

Alex chuckles, patting his shoulder. "This is the first hangover of many to come, bro."

"I still have a job to do," Flyzik points out with a raised eyebrow.

"Yeah, but do you honestly think we're gonna let your last tour with us be you babying us the whole time?"

"Considering that that's what I've been doing for the past ten years... Yeah, I actually fully expect that."

Alex snorts, "True," he allows. "But still. You'll be part-time babysitter and three quarter-time partier for this tour."

"Three quarter-time?" Flyzik repeats with a laugh.

"Ehh," he shrugs, "You've got to admit that makes sense."

"Kinda does," he agrees and then the two are chuckling. Flyzik sighs softly, turning to look at Alex, "Hey," he nudges the younger with his elbow gently.

"Hmm?"

"You okay?"

No, I'm not. I need a time machine. I want to go back into time. I want to tell Zooey everything that was on my mind. I want to tell her that I need her. That I was falling for her. That I had maybe already fell. That I only let her walk away because I know that she deserves someone better than me. That I didn't mean for things to turn out the way they had.

"Yeah," Alex pulls a smile. "Yeah, I'm great."


"Hey," a female voice greets and Alex startles slightly, lifting up the white towel that was covering his face as he tried to catch his breath, his brown eyes landing on the owner of the voice. "Heyyy," she greets again, though this is paired with a small smile and a tinge of recognition.

"You," Alex furrows his brows.

"Thought I recognised you," the blonde from the night before chuckles, leaning against her side by the doorway to All Time Low's dressing room.

"What are you doing here?"

"It's Alex, right? Alex Gaskarth?" She asks instead, completely disregarding his question.

"Yeah," he nods in response. "What are you doing here?" He asks again, because seriously: what was the first person to see through his mask doing there?

"Tour manager," she says in response with a smile.

Alex blinks, "Seriously?" She nods. "For who?" Because he thought he'd met everyone else already. The tour mangers and crew members and other band members that he hadn't ever met before. Guess he was wrong.

"Pierce," she grins, then she nods over towards the outside of the dressing room. "They're looking for you, by the way. Flyzik and your boys, too. They're watching ADTR from the top of the house thingy. Flyzik and I were sent to go find you."

Alex manages a small laugh, shaking his head in amusement. "Then how did you find me, and not my own tour manager?"

"He went for the buses first," she shrugs in response with an easy smile sliding across her face. "So... You coming?"

"Maybe later," he settles on replying.

He doesn't mind joining them because he knows that they're going to have the whole celebratory first night of tour thing later on with lots and lots of booze. And since Mike fuckin' Fuentes is there, too, there'll probably be weed. Getting drunk and high sounds like something he'd want to do, as long as he doesn't leave the confines of the bus or the venue or wherever this will take place because he doesn't want to have a mindless fuck with a girl. He doesn't need that kind of shit in his life again.

The blonde shrugs, "Your choice. See you later, then. Maybe," then she turns on her heel with a smile and a little wave directed to him.

"Hey," he calls out before she walks out of his sight. She pokes her head round the doorway, blinking at him inquisitively. "What's your name?"

"Nix," she smiles. "Nix Jameson."

"Jameson?" Alex repeats with a small smile. "Like the whiskey?"

Nix nods with a breathy chuckle, "Yes, like the whiskey."

Alex lets out a single laugh of amusement, smiling softly at her. "Alright then, Whiskey."

"Hey, at least I'm not a rapper that goes by the name WhiskeyHands."

"Who the fuck goes by the name WhiskeyHands?"

"Mike Fuentes! MikeyWhiskeyHands! How do you not know that?"

"Well why the fuck is his name MikeyWhiskeyHands?!"

"How am I supposed to know that?! I only just started working for them a couple months ago!"

"You could ask," Alex points out with an arched eyebrow.

Nix blinks, "Yeah, and so could you." She shoots back.

"... Touché, Whiskey. Tou-fucking-ché."