How I Met Your Father {Remington Leith}

Thirty-Four

Boise

The Knitting Factory

1:45 - LOAD IN 

2:45 - SOUNDCHECK

4:30 - VIP BEGINS

5:30 - EARLY ENTRY 

6:00 - DOORS

6:30 - LEMON & THE RASCALS

7:00 - STAGE CHANGE

7:30 - PALAYE ROYALE

11:30 - BUS CALL

"Early one." Kia remarked from across the room, watching a pot of coffee slowly brew. 

"Long ass fucking drive." I replied, rubbing a hand over my tired face. I had no idea why whoever booked this tour hadn't scheduled an off day between Boise and San Francisco. Traffic could've made the drive upwards of thirteen, maybe even fourteen hours—and yet, we had a show the immediate following day. 

I welcomed the cup of coffee Kia placed in my hands; warm and welcoming. It was a chilly one in Idaho. The weather would barely reach 40 that day. A chill so strong ripped through the city, that it had deterred any fans from lining up. Nearly eleven, and yet not a single person was seen outside the venue. It was uncommon, to say the least. 

Shy looked frazzled when she stumbled into the front of the bus, shortly before 11:30. I could hear Emerson's voice in the hallway, but couldn't quite make out what he was saying. I raised an eyebrow in her direction as she braced herself against the wall. "Eden," she huffed, seemingly out of breath despite the fact that she had barely walked five feet. "I think...I think you should go see Remington."

I was on my feet within seconds, pushing past her and into the hallway where Emerson sat on the edge of a bunk that was not his, talking toward Remington's bunk. Small sobs were heard echoing throughout the bus; and I knew immediately who they belonged to—Remington. "Woah," I said, turning toward Emerson. "What...what the fuck?"

He held his hands up. "I have no fucking idea." he sighed, seemingly frustrated. I stood on the edge of the bunk below Remington's, pulling the curtain to his bunk open. My heart fell to my feet as soon as my eyes took in the scene. 

Remington laid against the wall, face pressed up against the window which led to a quiet street. A comforter was wrapped around his body, pulled tight across his shoulders. His hair was pressed flat against his forehead. Ample sobs left his mouth, shaking his entire body. I had never seen a man look so broken. Part of me was glad I couldn't see his face; I'm not sure if I'd be able to take that. As shock consumed me, all I could do was watch him tremor as sobs raked through him. 

"Baby," my voice was low as I reached forward, hand finally landing in the small of his back. He flinched. "Hey, what's wrong?"

"Oh my God," he whispered. A hiccup left his throat as his sobs only increased in frequency. I watched him pull the blanket closer against himself. It was almost as if it was his cocoon, and he was using it to keep himself safe, sheltered from the outside world. "I...I can't do this."

I turned around to Emerson, who was only looking at me with a desperate, pleading, almost scared look. I faced Remington once more, leaning up to plant myself against the edge of his mattress. I wouldn't get closer to him, or touch him more than I already had, in fear of startling him. "You can't do what, bub?" I asked. 

He turned around to face me, and I'm not sure if I will ever forget that image. His blanket covered all of him except from his nose up. His eyes were a lighter color, pupils wider than normal...and they were dripping. The skin under his eyes, his cheeks, they were all soaked with his own tears. He looked at me, eyes wide and somewhat frightened, as if he was begging for me to remove him from this situation, when I didn't even yet know what was the cause of his distress.