She's No Longer With The Band

Twelve.

Nate's Point of View:

"La la la la la..." Jackson sang, warming up his vocals as he walked back and forth in the small cluttered space we had backstage. His bass swung across his body as he continued to make high-pitched noises in order to warm himself up.

I'm geeking practically.

We're about to perform for the first time in ages, and we have this entire skit thing prepared. We're going to sing one of our new songs from the new album, but I'm going to walk out on my crutches because the fans don't know that I can walk again. And once the beat drops in said song, I'm going to toss my crutches out ahead of me, and we're going to just go crazy.

Again, I'm fucking geeking.

"Do re mi fa-" Dean's voice echoed from afar as I kept my head hung down and shook my head with a smile.

I try to do this typically before every performance. Leave myself with some time to think and reflect on what I'm grateful for. The group performing right now is loud, and the speakers are right near us so we can hear everything. The cheers, the instruments, the vocalists. It's overwhelming, but we've been doing it for so long, so we're kind of used to it.

Anyways, I keep my head hung low while squatting down. I hold my cross necklace between my fingers and have a conversation with myself about everything I'm thankful for. I let my eyes fall shut, and it's almost like a small moment of peace that I allow myself to have. I need this for myself, even if everything surrounding me is fucking hectic and wild.

When I'm finished, I make a cross on my forehead, then lips, and then chest, with my thumb and then I stand up.

Brendan came up to my side, nudging me softly with his fist. "You good?" Brendan checked as I nodded my head.

"You ready?" He added with a smile as I fist-bumped him.

I got this, I got this, I got this.

"Crutches!" Scott's voice shouted as our heads spun. 

Scott was pushing past everyone in the crowded backstage area, my crutches in hand as he uttered "excuse me"past every person he knocked into. By time he got to Brendan and I, his face was red and there were little sweat beads scattered across his forehead. As per usual, Scott looked more than stressed, and he handed me my crutches with an irritated look on his face. 

Wetting my lips with my tongue I smirked at him lightly. "Thank you," I nodded. "How you doin' Scott?"

He blinked up at me a few times and then ever so dramatically rolled his eyes to the back of his head, causing Brendan and I to laugh lightly. He then stepped up to me and jabbed his index finger against my chest repeatedly while he spoke. "You need to be confident tonight,"

Of course, when something like that is said to me, I'm going to get slightly defensive. I need to put on my Nate DeRosé facade already, I'm about to perform for Christ's sake.

I snickered, shaking my head lightly. "I am confident, Scott,"

Scott then began to chuckle lightly for a few seconds. To my despair, he actually continued laughing until it turned into a full-blown fit. He shook his head, all giggly and amused while I stood there unamused, avoiding Brendan's lingering gaze.

Scott jabbed a finger at my chest again. "Remember who you are," He nodded at me, his smile fading. "And then the game changes,"

Remember who you are, and then the game changes.

With that, he then walked away. Probably to go pester Dean and Jackson about something. 

Obviously, I'm feeling jittery over the fact that I haven't performed in a long time, and over the fact that we're doing this entire skit thing on stage where I throw my crutches. There's the idea of it going wrong that's fucking with my brain. But Scott's right, I need to gain that confidence back, and I need to put on my facade like I always used to do.