Dedication Takes a Lifetime

“Now take my hand and we will run away
Down to this place that I know
How did this night become the enemy?
It’s over, it’s over, it’s over”

I laughed, falling against Cassadee, who was also laughing, knocking us both against the arm of one of the green room couches. I was still running on the feel-goods from the night before, as were many of the others; the entire afternoon had pretty much been lots of hugs and smiles and bouncing around.

Cass shoved me away, almost pushing me to the floor, and smiled, “Damn, Annette! Maybe you should sing my part with The Cab tonight.”

I whacked her with my water bottle, “Bite your tongue; no one could do ‘Take My Hand’ like you and DeLeon.”

She sighed, “That’s how I feel about Juliet and ‘Remembering Sunday.’ I wish she could have made it; I feel totally inadequate singing her part every night.” Her forehead wrinkled and she tilted her head to the side in thought, “Am I seriously singing with three different bands for this thing? God.”

I bit my lip, “So this probably wouldn’t be a good time to ask you to duet on ‘Homecoming’ with us, huh?” I laughed at the look she gave me, and quickly scurried away when she started pelting me with playful slaps. I ducked out of the green room and went to find the rest of my band, who’d all wandered away after our last song run-through, almost an hour before.

“Hey,” Matt’s hand caught my arm as we passed each other, “Showtime in two hours; you should do any last minute practice and get dressed soon, okay?” I nodded, and then he added, “And I’ve talked to Alex and the guys; you will have your full set tonight, I swear.” I smiled and thanked him. I had the utmost respect for Matt and the way he was handling not only Alex Gaskarth’s childish antics, but this event as a whole. Sure, the guys had had a hand in the planning, but Matt was the one that put things into motion and was making sure that it all went off without a hitch. I loved Jack with all my heart, and was slowly starting to get to know Zack and Rian, but Matt was definitely a strong contender for my favorite All Time Low person.

It took a little work, but I finally found my band members. Jocelyn and Deveraux (who I now realized were practically inseparable) were, along with Zack, watching Rian and Elliot go head-to-head in a which-drummer-can-eat-the-most-cheddar-bacon-spray-cheese-without-puking-his-guts-up competition. “I so,” Zack said so that only I could hear, “Need to be high to watch this.” I nodded in agreement, and his eyes bugged out slightly, “You smoke?”

I shrugged, “Usually only socially. Sometimes Kal and I will smoke for shits and giggles, but not too often.” He seemed impressed, for some reason, but Rian started gagging before he could say anything more, and he went to help him to a bathroom.

“Well,” I told my bandmates, “That was gross. So, uh, two hours until the show starts; any last minute prep we need to be doing?”

“Hm,” Deveraux thought, absentmindedly twirling the end of Jocelyn’s ponytail around his finger, “We doing a cover tonight?”

I nodded, “I was thinking ‘Hush.’ Automatic Loveletter.”

He clicked his tongue, “Nope, you’ve pretty much got that one nailed; no one does Juliet Simms like you.”

“Except Juliet Simms,” Jocelyn pointed out.

Deveraux shrugged and sighed dramatically, “Well, if you want to get technical.” He smiled at me, “You should check in with Kal, though; you know how anal she can be about things.”

I waved goodbye to them and went to search for Kal, who I found near the stage, engaging in an intense thumb war with DeLeon. As they craned their elbows in every direction, jerking their thumbs madly, they were also shouting at each other about the differentiation in their political beliefs. Again. It took almost five minutes to get their attention, and another five to finally communicate well enough with Kal to find out we didn’t need to rehearse again. So with nothing else to do, I went to the unsigned dressing room to put my clothes on, but when Hannah and Malcolm put a screamo album and started moshing, I quickly fled the room.

“Back so soon?” Cass asked, leaning against Jersey, reading from the same book as him.

I pouted, holding up my messenger, “My room has been taken over by mosh-pitting Okies; do you think anyone would mind if I did my makeup in here?”

She shrugged and shook her head, “I did it last night and no one said anything. Hey! I was not done with that page,” she scolded Jersey, who’d attempted to turn to the next page. He sighed and went back, letting her catch up as I dragged a stool to one of the large mirrors against the wall and started applying my eyeliner.

I was trying to decide what eyeshadow to wear when Lipshaw came up behind me, leaning down to whisper in my ear. “Decisions, decisions.”

I jumped, dropping the makeup case. He bent down to retrieve it for me and I blushed at my own reaction, “Thanks,” I mumbled. “And yes, it’s a toughie.”

He looked down at the wide range of colors and clicked his tongue, “Hm. Well the pink or purple would definitely good for performance dramatics. However,” he looked me over, “How are you wearing your hair tonight?”

“Um.” Was he seriously giving me style help? How did he always make the weirdest things seem so incredibly sweet? “I wore it down last night, and that was way too hot, so probably just in a ponytail.”

“Then go with the tan tones,” he told me confidently, handing the case back. “With the flannel and the ponytail, you should stick to the girl-next-door look. And tans will bring out the blue in those pretty hazel eyes,” he smiled, tilting my chin up to look into my eyes. I felt myself blush again; it had been so long since anyone had been so genuinely nice to me. Lipshaw was definitely the kind of guy I always saw myself falling for. And yet…

I wasn’t quite falling for him. That I knew of, at least.

“Thanks,” I told him, looking away, trying to cover my blush. “How do you know so much about this stuff? You don’t dabble in the side of Dr. Frankenfurter, do you? Sweet transvestite and all that?”

He laughed and shook his head, picking up my brush and pulling it through my hair as I applied my eyeshadow. “My best friend, Alisa, is a beautician. I helped her study for practically every test in cosmetology school, and a bunch of it stuck. That’s why Cass likes me so much.” In the mirror, I could see Cassadee nodding from the couch. “Hair tie?”

“Side pocket,” I told him, and he reached into my messenger bag for an elastic, securing my hair into a tight ponytail and sweeping my bangs over my forehead, careful not to bump my hand as I put on my mascara. Then he helped me pack away my things when I finished and sat with me on the couch opposite of Cass and Jersey as other bands started filtering in.

“So are you nervous again?” Lipshaw asked, having to speak up a little now.

I shrugged, “Not as much as I was. But a million times more. If that makes any sense.”

“It does,” he assured me. We were silent for a minute, me in my own head trying to figure out my nerves, and him studying me as I did so. Finally, he lowered his voice, lips close to my ear, and asked, “Are you nervous because of Aex Gaskarth?” I cringed, and wondered if the utterance of his name would ever stop making me feel like I’d just been slapped across the face.

But it was a legitimate question. Was I nervous because of him?

I hated to give him that much credit, but…

God, why did Gaskarth always seem to pop up when I was thinking about how much I didn’t want to be around him?!

He crashed through the doorway with an arm around someone, pulling them to the floor and rolling around, shouting every obscenity he could think. I jumped to my feet, compelled to move closer; he was fighting with the nervous-looking tech from the night before.

“Dammit, Ozark,” he growled through his teeth, “Stab me in the back? Is that what we’re doing now?” He hooked the tech--Ozark, I’m assuming was his name--in a headlock and flipped him onto his stomach for better leverage.

Zack was at my side in an instant, as if trying to gauge whether or not he should jump in and separate them or not. “Ozark,” he explained absently when he saw me staring in horror, “He’s one of our guitar techs.” I couldn’t even find words to tell him that I already knew that. I was too busy watching, my insides wound tight, afraid of seeing someone get hurt. But which someone was I afraid for?

“Uh,” Lipshaw raised an eyebrow, “So why is Gaskarth beating the hell out of him, man?”

Zack sighed, running a hand through his unruly, curly hair, but not directly answering. “It’s a long story. Al, stop!”

“Stay out of it, Z,” Alex commanded, aiming another punch at the man’s stomach, but missing and, consequentially, taking an elbow to the face. He flew backward to the floor, blood gushing out almost instantly.

“Alex!” I cried involuntarily. He had been about to jump back on Ozark, but stopped when he heard me, turning his eyes up. They were the clearest, saddest brown I’d ever seen. And there was no anger there; no annoyance, no bloodthirst, no hatred. He was just…hurt. Vulnerable. And he was letting me see it.

Ozark, however, was pissed now. He swiped Alex across the face with a strong jab and started in to hit him again. That’s when Martin, Jack, and Derek jumped in, grabbing the tech and pulling him away and out of the room. Several people followed, leaving just me, Zack, and the members of Hey Monday with the bloodied up singer.

I knew that I hated him; there was no question about that. But something about how pitiful he look made me drop down to Alex’s side, gripping his chin gently and turning his head to survey the damage. He allowed me to do so, seemingly stunned by the last left hook. “Are you okay? How does your head feel?” I asked, fearing he might have a concussion. His lip had a small split at the bottom right corner and his cheek was already turning purple, but beside that he looked no worse for the wear. I unzipped my messenger bag and pulled out a white and blue bandana, pressing it to his bleeding lip.

“It feels stupid,” he mumbled, not necessarily to me or anyone else, but more to himself. “I can’t believe I let him get that hit in; you shouldn’t have distracted me.”

I pressed my tongue to the inside of my cheek, trying to be patient. “Didn’t seem to phase you when Zack yelled at you.”

“Well, that’s Zack.”

“And I’m what?”

“You really want to know?” I growled, all of my sympathy for him immediately melting away. I didn’t care how hurt he was, or how vulnerable. He was still the same rude, hateful Alex he’d always been.

I was about to open my mouth and tell him off when I heard Zack clear his throat behind me. “Hey, Annette,” I turned to look at him, and his eyebrows were raised. “Do you wanna come get some air with me? I have to call my friend…Jay…and I could use the company.” It took a second for my impatient mind to catch his meaning, but when he did, I perked up.

“Yeah, yeah, sure,” I smiled, “I could spare a few minutes.” I threw the bandana down in Alex’s lap and stood, grabbing my bag and following Zack out the back door.

-- -- --

“So,” I croaked after a coughing fit, “What was the deal in there?”

Zack held up a finger as he inhaled, then blew smoke up slowly and sighed. “You can’t tell anyone I told you this story; not even Jack.” I promised, and he passed the smoke back to me as he went into the story. “Okay, well, Alex was dating this chick for, uh,” he did mental math, “About a year and a half, I guess. But toward the end of last year, things started to get really weird between them on his half. He wasn’t cheating, and I know that for a fact, but he was just sort of distant, you know?” I nodded, handing the joint back. He hit it and then continued, “So it just got progressively worse, and I could tell it was killing him. I mean, he liked her a lot, and everyone could tell that it killed him that he just didn’t feel the way he used to anymore.

“So about a month ago, they broke up,” he sighed, kicking at a pebble with his shoe. “And Melissa--that’s her name--bounced back really quick; too quick, if you know what I mean.”

“Ozark,” I filled in knowingly.

Zack nodded, “Four days after things ended between her and Alex, she was in the sack with Ozark. Jack and I knew the day it happened; we were at the party when they first hooked up. But Alex didn’t know, and we weren’t going to tell him until we thought he’d moved on. But apparently,” he sighed, “He found out on his own.”

“And he hasn’t moved on.”

“He hasn’t moved on,” Zack affirmed. “I seriously thought he was going to kill him; I’m glad you stopped him.”

I blushed, “I didn’t stop anything.” I took another drag to escape the topic.

Zack laughed lightly, “He listens to you, for some reason. He’s always staring at you. I know he’s being this huge dick, but I seriously think there’s something there that he just doesn’t know what to do with.”

I was about to tell him off--tell him to shut up--when a familiar tingly feeling set in in the pit of my stomach and branched out to all my limps and all I could do was giggle. “Who knows? Maybe the feeling’s mutual.”

-- -- --

Kal, Jocelyn, and I were watching All Time Low perform for the second time, while Deveraux, Jersey, and Bryan talked bass. I’d told my bandmates about the fight, but kept my promise to Zack and stayed quiet about the reason behind the fight. Playing dumb to Kalila Aberman was not an easy feat--saying she knew me better than I knew myself would be an understatement--but I managed.

Now we were watching Alex sing with his usual energy, though I noticed he winced every now and then when he stretched the makeup-covered cut on his lip a little too much. Each time this happened, there was an annoying twinge in my chest that made me want to take care of him.

“All right,” Jack said into his microphone as they finished their last song, “Sorry, no encores tonight, bitches!” The crowd booed with displeasure. “But Defy the Omniscient is up next; guaranteed to make your clothes fall right off. Their like…” he trailed off, unable to think of anything clever.

“Insta-nude!” Rian offered. The crowd cheered. Cheered for us.

God, that was a great feeling.

We swapped out with All Time Low, though Alex lagged onstage a little. Then he bumped me harshly on his way out, but I didn’t let it bother me. I took the mic with full confidence and greeted the crowd. “Hm, insta-nude? I think that’s what Kal puts in my bedtime tea.”

She strapped on her guitar, playing along easily, “Well what’s a girl supposed to do? We’re sharing a bed this week, she’s hot, she’s talented, but she’s such a fucking prude!” Stage banter was quickly becoming one of my favorite things in the world.

Well, that. And actually playing our songs to hundreds of people. And by the time we finished our first two, people were crowd surfing and pressing in against the barricade. We were definitely on our game tonight, and they all knew our names.

“Deveraux!” A girl in the audience shouted, face lost in a sea of undistinguished faces. “Take your shirt off!”

He looked at me and I raised me eyebrows at him. He shrugged and slipped his t-shirt off without having to remove his bass, then dropped it to the stage next to him. The combination of his abs, his tattoo, and his natural cuteness had every tween in the building squealing. “Hey,” he said into his microphone, “If I told you that you had a nice body, would you hold it against me?”

I smacked myself in the forehead, embarrassed for him. “That was so corny! What would you even call a corny horndog? A corndog?” I laughed, “That’s it; you are officially ‘Corndog.’”

“I’d take a bite out of him!” Another audience member offered.

I forced a stern face, “Ma’am, I would highly advise against that.”

Deveraux nodded in agreement, “I bite back.”

“I don’t mind!” She shouted again, and Kal was laughing uncontrollably.

“Jesus,” she choked out between giggles, “You guys are a bunch of fuckin’ hormonal bastards, aren’t ya? Fuck it; this one’s for you!” I smiled at her, knowing what she was getting at. We started in on “(You’re) Like Riding A Bike.”

“I’m walkin’ steady on a shady side of town
And I’ve got more than dollar bills in my pocket
What’s your name? What’s your sign?
God, I’m glad I don’t have to ask questions like that
In a place like this”

-- -- --

By the time we made it to our final song--our “Hush” cover--I was almost afraid to look to side stage. The hundreds and hundreds of music-loving strangers in front of us were fine, no longer daunting. But seeing so many band members crowding near the curtain, watching us with these stunned looks on their faces, was a little unnerving. It was only Lipshaw’s smile and Jack’s funny faces and Cass’s constant thumbs ups that made it comforting.

“So, uh,” I smiled, plucking a few chords on my acoustic guitar. Kal and I had taken to trading guitar lessons for singing lessons over the past seven months. I knew I would never be as good as her, but I could at least play and sing at the same time now without making any mistakes. “Funny story, and true story: This was actually the second song we played in our debut show. Back then it was just a lot of acoustic guitar and me trying to sing a soft song loud enough for a bunch of drunk teenagers to hear. We’ve evolved a bit since then,” I smiled at Deveraux, who was sitting happily behind a standing piano, sheet music in front of him. We did this song in rehearsal a lot, but this was our first time using it in a show since that night. “But it’s still really nostalgic for us. I hope you like it.”

Deveraux started on the piano, and soon Kal and I joined in on guitar while Jocelyn played with brushes over the snare. The room fell silent, which was fitting.

“This is as quiet as it gets
Hush down now; go to sleep
We were once perfect
Me and you will never leave this room”

Forcing his way to the front of side stage, I saw Alex Gaskarth. Makeup wiped off. Face bruised. Lip cut. Hair and clothes messy. Jaw set. But his eyes were still so sad. And they stayed right on me.

-- -- --

“I’m running on pure euphoria,” I sang, grabbing Jack’s hand and making him twirl me. We’d just stepped offstage and while the rest of my band went to clean up and change out of sweaty clothes, I was dancing with Jack Barakat in a hallway with some other musicians around.

Jack laughed and grabbed me, lifting me in the air as he hugged me. “You were so on tonight, Nettie!”

“Thankyou!” I beamed. My phone chirped and I flipped it open to read my new text. --Great again, sis. Everyone out here loved you; they’re all complaining about lack of merch and records. AGAIN!

I smiled and sent a text back to Tomas, who’d opted to “stay away from backstage drama” throughout the concert week-end. --Well we’ll have to get on that, won’t we Mr. Manager?

--Def. Well I’m going to catch a cab back to the house, okay? Homework calls. And sleep is waiting on Line 2. Love you.

--Love you more. See you in the morning.

I shoved the phone back in my pocket and turned to jump on Lipshaw, who’d just appeared through the doors with the members of The Cab and Mayday Parade. “Pimpshaw!”

He hugged me back, then pulled back with his nose wrinkled, “You’re all sweaty.”

I rolled my eyes, “You’re such a girl. Hey! I want to go watch the rest of the bands from the actual floor; be my bodyguard?” After some prodding, he agreed and we--along with my band and his, and Jack--made our way out onto the floor. This was much more intense; bodies pressing in from every side, all striving for a better view of the stage. We finally made it close to the barricades just as This Is Urgent began.

“Once again,” Jacob sighed into his microphone, “Defy the Omniscient puts so much damn pressure on us! Aren’t they great?!” The crowd cheered and I blushed, though no one seemed to even notice who I was. Or who any of us were, for that matter. Lipshaw nudged me playfully. “But we’re gonna try our best; this is ‘I Reckon I’m Fit To Be Tied.’”

“You know it's just a matter of time
Before our luck starts to change
It's just a product of the games we play
So close your eyes; don't let this slip away
It's our night to achieve
What we've been striving for”

I screamed, cupping my hands on either side of my mouth for volume, when they finished their first song. They really were amazing, and I made a mental note to pick up their album before I left the venue again. Something about the way that Jacob held himself, and the expressions the other band members wore when they played, told me they would go all the way. Would we? I didn’t even want to think about it.

As the band finished their set, I was on my second vodka tonic, courtesy of Deveraux, and feeling pretty good. Any bad thoughts or bad feelings melted away and disappeared in the crowd as The Romantic Disaster began.

“The absence of your love is a prison
And I can't get myself free
You got me on lockdown, honey
Visions of you are all I see
I need an exit strategy”

God, Hannah Wolff was gorgeous. And what a voice! Watching her move onstage, I was tempted to take a page from Jocelyn’s book and play for both sides of the field. I snorted loudly at the thought, which resulted in funny looks and my drink being temporarily taken away.

“Will good behavior get me out of here?
Will good behavior set me free?
Somebody get me out of here
This purgatory; out of this fear
And into some of your love”

I was vaguely aware of someone hands resting on my hips from behind, and I looked over my shoulder to see Lipshaw grinning down at me nervously, asking without words if this was okay. And the thing was, it was okay. It shouldn’t have been, because thus far I had no defined romantic interest in him. I should feel awkward. I should want to distance myself from him. But I didn’t. He made me feel comfortable and wanted, so I smiled and leaned against him, my back against his chest. His chin came down to rest on the top of my head as The Romantic Disaster continued their set.

By the time Come Ascendancy took the stage, my eyes were getting heavy and I longed for bed. But I knew Brianna’s amazing voice would wake me up. I was right.

“Sit here wondering all alone
The fear is taking all control
I just need one chance
Please see this through
I don’t even know
I can’t control you”

Lipshaw’s hands moved from my hips to take one of my own hands and start tugging. I turned to him with a scowl, not wanting to be distracted from the music, but he smiled at me so apologetically that my annoyance quickly left.

“I have someone I want you to meet,” he told me over the music. “All of you,” he shouted, getting Deveraux, Jocelyn, and Kal’s attention. We followed him skeptically to the edge of the floor, where a woman who looked like she belonged on a corporate jet and not a rock concert was waiting. She wore a knee-length, black pencil skirt and a pale pink cashmere sweater, with cat-eye glasses and her blonde hair back in a ponytail. I stared at her, wondering who she was, why Lipshaw wanted us to meet her, and why Cassadee kept giggling next to me.

“Millicent Pyrne,” he gestured to her, “This is Defy the Omniscient. Annette Vader, Kalila Lews-Aberman, Aaron Deveraux, and Jocelyn Hernandez-Cheshire. Defy the Omniscient, this is Millicent Pyrne,” he smiled at me, “She’s the Maryland rep from Decaydance Records.”

To quote Fall Out Boy themselves: You could have knocked me out with a feather.

“De-de,” I stuttered, “Decaydance? As in, Pete Wentz’s label?”

She nodded, reaching out to shake my hand. She smiled then, and was immediately disarming. “We received a call this morning from Mr. Barakat, and after some talk, Mr. Wentz sent me here tonight to give your band a good ear.”

I looked over my shoulder to Kal, who was usually the most business-y of us, but she was simply standing there, jaw dropped comically and eyes bugged out. I looked to Deveraux, but he wasn’t much better. Jocelyn was never good in these situations, far too blunt and undetailed. Why-oh-why did my brother have to leave early?! Beside me, I felt Lipshaw squeeze my hand and I took a deep breath.

“It’s very nice to meet you, Miss Pyrne,” I did my best to smile, but I knew it was shaky and nervous. “Would it be too forward of me to ask what you thought of us?”

She laughed and shook her head, “Not at all!” She adjusted her glasses, “I was very impressed, to say the least. I am going to insist that Mr. Wentz take a meeting with you; just call this number tomorrow,” she handed me a card, which I took with the hand that wasn’t squeezing Lipshaw’s so tightly that my knuckles were cramping. “Miss Vader,” she told me kindly, “A meeting is no guarantee. You may have to go through a lot before you finally get signed. But the potential is definitely there, so go into it with a clear head and a calm heart, and you’ll be fine.”

“Th-th-thank you,” I told her, and she smiled at me before turning and walking toward the exit.
Simple as that?! My insides were practically screeching. A woman gives you a card, you call Pete Wentz, and you’re in the big leagues?!

A sea of people was moving around us, but the four of us stood perfectly still. We didn’t move, or speak, and I’m convinced we stopped breathing too. Finally, Kal broke the silence with the quiet confession of, “I think I might have pissed myself a little, back there. Do you guys still respect me?”

-- -- --

When you’re sitting on a Decaydance business card, it’s hard to focus on even the most hilarious of banter between Rian Dawson and Jack Barakat as they go toe-to-toe in SoulCalibur 4. I’d become the annoying, twitching one that I usually snapped at Kal and Deveraux for being. I kept twisting my hair, shifting in my seat, tapping my nails against my beer can. Part of me wishes Lipshaw had come back to Jack’s house with us, because he was so calming for me, but I was sort of glad he hadn’t. I didn’t want to use him, and I didn’t want to lead him on.

“Annette Luanne Vader,” Jocelyn snapped as I took to tapping my foot on the floor loudly, her accent coming out in her irritation. “Go to your room.”

“Yeah,” Deveraux agreed, though much more gently, “Put on your chill play list, okay, sweetheart?”

I looked to Kal for support, but she was too busy trying to distract Jack from Talim by putting her hands over his eyes and tickling his ribs. I sighed and stood up, “Sure thing, Mom and Dad.” I stuck my tongue out at them and made my way back to the room Kal and I were sharing. I sat down on the bed and put my earbuds in, blasting Matthew Good Band as loud as it would go.

In a few days, we could be meeting with Pete Wentz. In a few weeks, we could be on our way to being signed, recorded artists. Everyone says you shouldn’t get ahead of yourself when it comes to things that really matter, but how can you not? This was our future. This was what we were prepared to dedicate our entire lives to. Some level of anticipation was to be expected. Right?

About half an hour later, I was still wound pretty tight. I decided a hot shower might do the trick, but apparently Deveraux had beat me to the punch. And that boy showered like a princess. “Jack,” I peeked around the corner to the living room. The games had been turned off and a movie was playing now. Zack and Rian were fighting over a bowl of popcorn while Jocelyn played on Tomas’s laptop and Kal laid on the couch with her head on Jack’s lap. “Do you mind if I use the upstairs shower?”

He looked at me with a smile, “Go for it, kid.”

“Thanks.” I took the stairs two at a time and headed for the bathroom, but stopped as I passed Alex’s room. The door was open and he was sitting at the foot of the bed, shirt off and inspecting something on his stomach. He hadn’t looked up to see me, so I was free to squint a little. That’s when I noticed the large black and purple bruise across his abdomen from a stomach blow I must have missed during the fight.

I couldn’t help but gasp, drawing his attention to me. “Oh my god, Alex, are you okay?” Without asking for permission, or even thinking about anything, I dropped my toiletry bag and rush into the room, kneeling in front of him.

He rubbed his face with his hand, “Shouldn’t you be sleeping or something?”

“Too wound up,” I murmured absently, brushing my fingers over the bruise. He winced. I gasped. Touching him sent shockwaves through me. “When did this happen?”

“During the fight,” he said in his best “duh” voice.

I rolled my eyes, but ignored him. “You need to put ice on this. You might even need to see a doctor; god, Alex, how did you even get through the show like this?”

He was silent for a moment, and then, “You know, I would have expected you to tell me how stupid it was of me to start a fight. I figured you’d be the first one lining up to call me an asshole.” I couldn’t tell him that I knew the circumstances, and that I understood his reasoning. I said nothing.

When I looked up, he was staring at me with knowing eyes. “You know.”

I bit my lip, “Sorry.”

“Yeah, well,” he looked away and sniffed, then changed the subject. “You’re probably right about the doctor; I’ll go in the morning.”

I nodded, standing up. “How’s your face?” I asked, noticing his cheek was even darker than it was before. “I’m sorry I distracted you.”

“Wasn’t really your fault; I’m sorry for trying to blame it on you.” Do you ever wish like was a VCR? Pause, rewind, play. Turn the volume up. Come again?

Did Alex Gaskarth just apologize to me?

I covered the bruise with my hand and he closed his eyes in obvious pain. “Augh,” he hissed quietly, “Yeah, it hurts worse than the stomach.” When his eyes opened, the pain was still there, but it wasn’t from his bruises or his cut lip. That vulnerability was back, and something else. Some sort of desperation, like he was begging me to make it stop. Begging me to make it feel all right again. I had an idea of how to do that, but I was nowhere near that daring.

So I opted for the alternative.

“It was stupid of you to start a fight,” I told him lightly; matter-of-factly. “You’re an asshole.”

He laughed then. A real laugh. Like he’d laughed a year before, dancing to techno with cups full of unknown alcohol.

He shook his head, “Get the fuck out of my room.” The words weren’t harsh or angry, like I’d gotten used to. More like something Kal and I would say to each other. So I felt free to stick my tongue at him and collect my toiletry bag, heading for a shower.

I knew that it probably didn’t change anything. In the morning, we would hate each other again. Even if we didn’t, he would still hate my music, and that was enough. But for that brief moment, Alex Gaskarth was that same man I’d met backstage last November.

Why couldn’t I let that version of him go?