I Still Love You

Chapter 3: The Turn

I could never really understand the purpose of smoke machines.

I mean, I could — the purpose, of course, is to fill the stage with smoke — so I guess my confusion was with the point. Why fill the stage with smoke?

My aversion to those particular pieces of technology is most likely rooted in the large number of embarrassing almost-tumbles I'd taken when walking off of the stage throughout my career, but regardless of how it came about, it was oh so present that night.

Steph came by my kit to get me as always, holding me tightly by my forearm as I squinted at the thick, white vapor. It always amazed how she kept her cool, but it full on astonished me how she managed to see her way through the pale and ever-changing veil so effortlessly.

I let out a huff of relief upon reaching backstage, letting the force of her small hand jerk me forward when Hazel approached me with one of her standard congratulatory pats on the back. One of the KISS roadies kindly handed me a bottle of water, a gift which I thankfully and thirstily swilled as the boys began to shuffle out of their dressing rooms.

Despite the others, at this point, putting in no effort to hide the true nature of their closeness, I was still hesitant to show my affection towards Eric around the rest of the band. I had this nagging insecurity that I'd be taken less seriously as a musician if people, namely the press, found out that I'd been sleeping with a member of KISS during our tour. I mean, would people say? That my talent had nothing to do with my being chosen to tour with them? That the only reason I was accepted onto the tour is because Eric was attracted to me?

Yes, it's true that we hadn't started sleeping with each other until the tour had already began, but no one would believe that. And even if they did, I could still see people saying that they accepted us only because they knew we'd sleep with them eventually. I was completely overrun with anxieties about the public perception of my relationship with Eric, as well as their ideas about the rest of the girls' relationships with their respective flings.

As a sort of distraction, I chugged the ice cold water with remarkable speed, gasping and inhaling through flared nostrils after having gone however long without air. I'd completely emptied the bottle, the sound of plastic being crushed ringing out as it got squished by the grip of my palm. A few weak coughs raked my body, ridding me of the few stray gulps of water that had gotten me all choked up.

After I'd begun to regain my composure, I felt a recognized hand rest on my back yet again; this time larger, warmer, and placed much lower. Their familiar scent and the intimate placement of their hand let me know without a doubt that the person beside me was Eric. I rose from my subtly hunched position with a cold hand slightly covering my now ruddy face.

My eyes were brimmed with tears from my near suffocation, and my lips a bit puffy and blood-red.

"Is everything alright there, Suzy?" He chuckled, absentmindedly dragging his drumsticks across the pyramid studs that littered the legs of his neon pants.

I simply offered him a nod, still trying to recover my collectedness. He gave me a few pats on the back of my shoulder before saying one last thing, something that I honestly wasn't listening to at all. I assumed he was telling me that he was heading on stage and that he'd see me after the show, to which I hummed in response with my eyes shut to lessen my overstimulation.

What couldn't have been (or at least didn't feel like) more than a few moments later, Paul could be heard pumping up the crowd by going through his unofficial list of phrases that he'd decided needed to be yelled into any sea of eager rockers. I chuckled at his antics under my breath, suddenly realizing my immense discomfort and lifting my hands to pull the sweaty hair off of my neck.