Collision

“You… and Finley?” I was still incredulous. I couldn’t believe my sharp-tongued baby sister could ever be hooking up with the immature – albeit cute – guitarist, but that’s what it appeared like. I mean, there was no other (sane) explanation I could think of for my sister's lipstick to be smeared on his lips.

“Nothing’s going on,” Alex muttered. “It was just once.” She had her head buried under her pillow, duvet drawn all the way up, and was talking into the mattress, but I could still hear her clearly enough.

We were back on their bus, and almost everybody had hidden themselves in their bunks at the first opportunity, although I was pretty sure that Red and Ellie were actually sharing one, guessing from the girlish giggles and heated whispers I kept hearing.

“Finley?” I repeated, still unable to process this information. “What happened to Zacky?”

Apparently my sister was in no mood to be asked questions. “Shut up,” was the only response I got.

“But—you—oh my god, you guys shared a hotel room last night!” As soon as this realisation hit me, I was almost shouting, but it was closer to hysteria rather than anger.

“Shut the fuck up, Martinez.” That was Jack, from his own bunk. His voice was low but it was clear he was pissed off. “I don’t wanna hear about them hooking up. I want to fucking sleep.”

I settled for flipping him off, even though the curtains were drawn on his bunk, and left the bunk area to go have a mental breakdown in peace. Jesus fucking Christ. Finley? And Alex? I shook my head, bemused but a little bit impressed none-the-less. Finley could be good for her, especially since she’d been looking more and more withdrawn lately. I hadn’t seen her at any of the social gatherings – she’d spent most of her time in her bunk when she wasn’t on stage – and she’d been looking pale enough lately that even I was worried.

~*~

Mikey found me as I was hauling equipment boxes down to the main stage once more. I was surprised to see him, especially since I hadn’t seen Alicia at all that morning, but I said nothing. My head hurt, my body hurt, and I was in no mood to get shouted at again, so instead of provoking him I decided to just smile and turn back to my work, expecting that he’d walk away as he normally did.

This time, however, he didn’t.

“Hey,” he said. I glanced over, surprised at the fact he was talking to me, and that he actually sounded pleasant. I didn’t want to think about what he and Alicia had got up to that made him sound like that.

“Hey,” I said, still struggling with the heavy equipment. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” He glanced around, as if checking to see if anyone was in earshot, and then smiled. It was a small smile, but it was a start. “Can we talk?”

He sounded serious, so I straightened up, putting the case on the ground. “Of course,” I said. Even if we had barely talked the whole time we’d been on tour, I still wanted to be on good terms with him deep down. I mean, I liked the others in the band so much, and it hurt that he seemed to think I had ill intentions towards people I considered my friends now.

“Look,” he began. I braced myself to be told something I didn’t want to hear. But then he pinched the bridge nose with two fingers and smiled wryly. “I wanted to apologise.”

Holy shit. I was pretty sure I was gaping at him.

“I think I misjudged you,” he continued, still smiling slightly, probably at the fact I was staring bug-eyed, trying to figure out if Mikey had in fact been replaced with a pod person and this was a sign of the imminent invasion of earth, or the apocalypse. “I got too overprotective, and I’ve talked to Alicia and Gerard. I didn’t realise how bad things had got with him and... well, nevermind about that. They both really like you. And…” He sighed, but he didn’t sound resigned. He sounded more regretful. “I was wrong. You make him happy. Happier than I’ve seen him in a while.”

I couldn’t help the smile that appeared on my face. I didn’t realise a few simple sentences could make me feel that happy. “Thank you. You’re a cool dude, Mikeyway.” I held out my hand for a fistbump.

“Well, yeah,” he said, like this was an obvious statement, but he obliged and fistbumped me. I laughed, and then he motioned at the catering tent nearby. “Wanna get coffee?”

I couldn’t think of anything that I wanted more right now in my hungover state. “Fuck yes,” I replied hastily.

I didn’t even glance back at the pile of cases I was meant to be moving as we walked off. They could wait. Mikey was being nice! I wasn’t sure how long this would last and I was going to talk full advantage of it.

~*~

Janey was staying with the tour until we hit London, apparently, or at least that’s what she seemed to decide. I daren’t ask Mallory his thoughts on this, but somehow she had a crew pass, and that was good enough for me. She took Alicia’s abandoned bunk in our bus – now that Vanessa was no longer in the picture, Alicia had happily retreated back to her own bus.

We were travelling towards Cardiff when she came and sat down at the table next to me.

“So…” she began.

“Yes?” I asked, barely looking up from my laptop, where I was writing the latest blog post. I had all the pictures from the acoustic session to upload, as well as the meet and greet. I’d already read the forums – there was buzz about the acoustic performances, and as much as I knew I shouldn’t have looked, I saw that there had been people who recognised me. There were some strange theories given in my thread about what exactly had triggered the awkward serenade.

“You’re just gonna keep quiet?” she asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Oh come on. I saw you holding hands with Gerard when we left the hotel.” I could practically hear the glee in her voice. “Really, as your best friend, I shouldn’t have to tell you this, but spill!”

I looked at her quickly, then looked away. It was true that as we’d left the hotel, Gerard had taken my hand, although when I realised just how many people there were around I’d dropped it hastily. It wasn’t the best thing I could have done, and we hadn’t talked about it since, but I knew I’d hurt his feelings. But – I just wasn’t ready for everyone to know there was something going on there.

“We’re…” I began, pausing to collect my thoughts and think the of the best words. “We’re friends who are cautiously exploring the idea of dating.”

“So, you’re a pussy, is that what you’re saying?” Janey replied loudly, raising one pierced eyebrow expertly.

“Yes,” I mumbled.

The tour bus that had broken down in Leicester was still causing trouble as we pulled into Cardiff. I found this out as I stepped out of my own bus, and came face to face with the sight of said bus smoking profusely and the harried crew members running around looking a bit like chickens with their heads cut off. I watched, fascinated, as Calvin came running past, trailed by Mallory, and several guys I didn’t know the names of.

Gerard emerged from MCR’s bus, which had pulled up beside my own, and he wandered over. “As an expert mechanic, I’d say it looks like it’s fucked,” he noted mildly, taking in the sight too. The bus was still belching thick, acrid black smoke into the air at a rate of knots.

“You don’t say.” I grinned at him. “Wonder what they’re gonna do.”

“I think it’s SoundinSpace’s bus,” he added after a moment of us still staring at the disaster, and the people who were scurrying around trying their best to fix said disaster, which was hilarious. “Theirs is the blue one, isn’t it?”

I shrugged slightly. “Fuck knows, do you think I actually socialise? Don’t be silly.”

Eventually, Mallory wandered over to both of us, his handsome face strained with what I could only guess was the stress of tens of thousands of pounds worth of vehicle almost literally exploding in his face. “Hotel night,” he said, looking morose. “Tour’s not moving until we get a replacement bus and figure out if any other buses are fucked. Spread the word.”

As soon as he walked away and was out of earshot, I turned to Gerard and high-fived him. “Hotel night!”

~*~

My job that day was to help in the signing tents, which meant a lot of making sure everybody was queuing nicely and not pushing and shoving, and making sure that band members were in the right place at the right damn time. That was the most stressful part of it.

“Frank!” I barked as I caught sight of the guitarist trying to slink into another tent ahead of me. “Where do you think you’re going? You’ve got a signing in five minutes.”

“Uh—” He cut himself off, and looked around as if for help, before realising he had been caught. “I was just… coming to find you…”

I didn’t believe that for a second, but I nodded anyway, as if in understanding. “Sure you were, lovely. Come with me.”

He stuffed his hands in his pockets and followed me, looking like a naughty schoolboy. “I hate signings,” he said as we entered the signing tent in question. “My butt gets numb.”

I huffed a little bit. I knew he’d much rather have it on his own terms, and be able to take photographs with all the fans and make it more personal, but we both didn’t have a choice. I pointed out his seat at the long table set up at the back of the tent, where the rest of his band were gathered. Ray was attempting to make a paper snowflake out of one of the timetables he’d been given. Bob was apparently sleeping, or at least he had his head in his arms and looked for all the world as if he was.

“Go!” I snapped.

As he shuffled off, I heard him mumble, “I bet you wouldn’t treat Gerard like this.”

~*~

The hotel that night was fancy. It was also expensive.

“How much?” I gasped at Mallory, when he’d told me, expressionless, at how much it cost for a room. We were stood in the lobby of said expensive hotel, and I should have guessed when we walked in and there was a bloody bellhop that this shit was out of my price range. But I’d got my hopes up so much already and now they were all crashing down around me.

“Sorry dude. You can stay on the buses,” he offered, wincing slightly. He knew it was expensive, but he’d already explained that the tour had paid for the last set, and this one would put they way over budget. “But yeah… it’s £100 each.”

“Oh hell no,” I said. “No way am I staying on the bus.” I’d already had fantasies about the bath or shower I was gonna have, and how long I was gonna spend in there, and the thought of an actual bed to sleep in once more. I wasn’t giving that up for anything in the world.

“Share with me,” offered Jamia, who appeared at my elbow apparently out of nowhere. I looked over at her, surprised. Although I’d run into her a lot over the tour, I hadn’t actually got much of a chance to talk to her. However, I’d already noticed she was one of the loveliest people I’d met, just simply in the way she treated everybody, so I barely had to think on the offer before I was agreeing.

I paid my half on card, hoping that my overdraft would still have enough to cover it, and we received two keycards in return for room 33, although Jamia took both of them before I had a chance to.

“Hold on,” she said, as she hurried over to her boyfriend. He was standing next to Ray, and they were in deep conversation over something or another involving a new song.

A minute later she returned to my side, and handed me a key card. “Here you go. I’ll see you up there in five minutes,” she said, already heading back to Frank’s side. I watched, amused, as she forcefully pushed her way into his arms so he had no other option but to put them around her waist. They were cute.

I headed up to my room, but stopped on the way to chat to Alex and Finley – who were sharing a room again. I daren’t think about that, although I did make sure to give her a nudge and a wink when he wasn’t looking. Alex smacked my side in return, which fucking hurt.

I finally made it up to the third floor, then looked at my keycard. Room 31, declared the number embossed on the shiny gold card. I made my way down the rows of identical doors, until I came to room 31. Sliding my keycard into the lock, I was gratified when it went green first time. I dragged my suitcase inside, surprised that there was already a suitcase stacked against the wall, and that the shower was already running as well. Jamia hadn’t wasted any time.

I heard the water shut off, and Jamia shuffling around in the bathroom. I turned to see there were menus on the coffee table, and I went over and scooped them up. I was already almost salivating at the idea of warm, fancy cooked food. There was nothing wrong with the catering on tour, but even I got bored of pizza eventually. “Yo!” I yelled through to the bathroom. “Want any room service?”

The door to the bathroom opened, and I turned, smiling, then froze.

“Frank,” Gerard began, and then he stopped, words dying on his lips as he realised I was standing there, not his guitarist.

“Well.” I said, unable to stop looking at the sight of the dishevelled singer, who only had a towel wrapped tightly around his waist, his hair wet and curling at the ends. “You’re not Jamia.”