I Hate You More

Keep It Clean

Remington

So the past week has been...weird. Harlen and I have been getting along, and we still take jabs at each other but, it's not like before. Before we were just doing anything we could to get under the other person's skin but I guess given recent incidents, we've learned not to push each other too far. Sure, she was a pain in my ass but, not talking to her for three weeks was weird in the worst way.

"Have you seen my eyeliner?" I asked as I walked into the kitchen/living space of our bus.

"We talked about this," Sebastian sighed, "start keeping track of your own shit."

"Get this Mike," I scoffed. Michael was our cameraman, and he was helping us record tour content to post for our fans on youtube, and my statement caused him to turn his camera on, "I can't keep track of my own shit Sebastian, because this bus is a mess."

I started picking up some of the clutter on the floor, "See? What is this? Empty beer cans, we don't need those. Fast food wrappers, great put them in the trash. See, everybody's got to keep. It. Clean, or I'm gonna lose my freaking mind."

The last part of my statement came out as a yell, and after I threw out the trash, I turned back to the camera calmly pointing at the audience that was at that point, nonexistent, "Not that I'm really that upset but, seriously, keep it clean."

"And what is this? What- do you see this," I playfully shouted at Sam who was standing next to a pile of crap by the counter, "unbelievable- I mean- at this point I don't even know what to do."

I caught a glimpse of Harlen passing behind Michael as I made my way down the aisle, "See this beautiful hallway? I made it that way."

"Sure you did." Harlen chuckled under her breath.

Ok, so maybe she cleaned sometimes too. Maybe it was most of the time. That's besides the point. I kept walking, smiling slightly at the comment. Why did she have me smiling? That's a good question.

"Fun. Wha- ok," I sighed, playing it up for the recording, "I don't even wanna talk about the bathroom. I don't wanna even talk about the bathroom."

I could hear laughter from the front of the bus, so I kept going as I made my way into the bathroom, and picked up a pair of glasses.

"Ok, I'll take credit for the glasses but look at this," I gestured to my older brother's makeup bag on the counter, "Oh S.D, super douche...or Sebastian. Super douche."

I clicked my tongue, and let out a sigh, making my way back towards the front of the bus, "and I still can't find my eyeliner. Look I'm gonna put on the glasses just for this special occasion. It's just, what I love to do when I get super disappointed you guys."

I put on the glasses and crouched down, placing my hand on my chin, and letting out an exaggerated sigh. Then, I moved my fingers to pinch the bridge of my nose, giving Michael the opportunity to put the camera down.

"Relax," Harlen sighed, grabbing my forearm, and pulling me to my feet, "you can use mine. Which, may or may not be yours."

I scoffed at what she said, "Well why didn't you tell me that before?"

"I uh," She narrowed her eyes in an attempt to come up with an excuse, "come on. I'll help you put it on."

Harlen kept her hold on my hand and dragged me to the bathroom. She glanced to the counter, causing me to hop on to it.

"How's your eye," She asked softly as she grabbed my makeup bag and started applying a low-coverage foundation to my face, "it looks better."

"Yeah," I nodded. Then, I looked up to the ceiling so she could do my eyeshadow, "it's gotten better over the past week."

She finished my eye makeup, and grabbed my eyeliner, that was in her bag by the way, and finished the look.

"There."

"Thanks babe." I winked, pulling a strange look to her face.

"Don't call me that shit." She scoffed.

Harlen threw my eyeliner into my bag before leaving the bathroom. I followed her with a laugh.

"Ok," Sam questioned us as we sat on the sofa, "what the fuck happened between you guys?"

"Yeah," Sebastian chuckled, "you guys haven't tried to kill each other in like four days. Are you feeling alright?"

He looked genuinely panicked as he pressed the back of his hand to Harlen's forehead.

"We're fine," Harlen chuckled before moving Sebastian's hand off of her, "just hyped for the show tonight I guess."

"About that," I sighed, "is Em up yet?"

Sebastian shrugged, and Sam shook his head, prompting me to get off of the couch, and walk to Emerson's bunk.

"Em," I whipped the curtain over and smacked my younger brother on the bum, "Emerson. Come on. We have VIP soundcheck soon. You gotta get up."

The only thing I got in response was a groan, "Emerson. Let's go."

Another groan. So, this probably won't end well.

"Emerson," I said louder as I grabbed a hold of his foot and attempted to pull him out of his bunk, "come on brother. I don't even get paid for VIP. All you have to fucking do is tap a fucking box. Your job is not that difficult."

"Fuck you." Emerson's voice was muffled due to his face being pressed into his pillow.

"I'm gonna fucking kill him." I muttered towards Sebastian.

I pulled Emerson's foot again, and then took his shoe off to throw at him.

"Fuck off." He yelled before kicking me in the nose.

"No," I scoffed, "and clean your fucking feet. That smell is wretched."

Emerson sat up in his bunk for just long enough to throw his shoe at my face, "Fuck. Off. I'll get up when I'm ready."

"Kay," I scoffed, "well you better be ready in like two fucking seconds."

Emerson ignored me by pulling his curtain shut. When I ripped it back open he let out another groan.

"Seriously dude," Emerson yelled, "get the fuck out."

"You get the fuck out," I yelled before turning my to the right due to the presence I felt next to me, "what the fuck is his problem?"

Harlen shrugged before calmly pushing me out of the way. Did she really think he was going to listen to her?

"Em," She said softly as she gently tapped Emerson's back, "what's up?"

"Nothing," He grunted, "just sick of this fucking shit."

"Ok," Harlen sighed. She was speaking to him the way she spoke to her kid sister, and I was trying hard not to laugh at how well it was working, "well, you have to get up so you can play for your fans. Don't you want to be there for all of these people who are there for you?"

After a moment of silence, Emerson swiftly pushed himself out of his bunk, and silently grabbed a set of clothes to change into.

"How the fuck," I mumbled as he walked past me to get to the restroom, "how the fuck did you do that?"

"Do what," Harlen scoffed, "be nice? Be patient? It's something you have to work on."

"I-"

Maybe she was right.

"You guys are so short we each other," Harlen explained, "you blow up just like that. Take some time, take some breaths, and be patient with each other. This touring shit is stressful as fuck, and you all seem to think that everyone else should have the answer. Just, relax."

I thought about what she was saying for a moment. She wasn't wrong. Actually, she probably couldn't be closer to the truth and, I knew that. It was just easier said than done. Maybe if we were actually getting along, this experience would be more fun for all of us. If we didn't start getting along, the band probably wouldn't make it for very much longer.