Love is the drug

Chapter 4: Rustle My Jimmies

Rain battered down heavily on me as I ran to the tour bus. The Les Paul I had hoisted over my head as a makeshift umbrella was doing little good, and it was only when I reached the bus I remembered it was locked.
"FUCK." I yelled, slamming my fist against the cold metal door. I lowered the guitar and sat on the bus steps. I could feel my pants getting soaked but I barely cared. The rain got heavier, and thick droplets rolled down my hair and onto my cheeks. The sky illuminated as lightening flashed. I scowled at the scenery, wanting nothing more than to go inside and rid myself of the wet clothes. "What a fucking great time for the bus to be locked." I thought to myself. Suddenly, the door flew open from behind me, and Pete's face poked out.
"What the fuck are you doing out here?" He exclaimed, genuine worry in his eyes.
"The bus was locked." I scowled.
"Well why didn't you knock?!"
"I don't know! I thought no one was in there!"
"You absolute idiot. Come inside before you catch a cold!" He ordered, ushering me in and taking my wet guitar from me.
"Go get dry, I'll make you some tea." Pete ordered as he dried my guitar off and put it back in it's case.
"Ok, thanks mom." I scoffed, rolling my eyes at his hospitality. Pets was always the parent of the group, second only to Patrick, and when the two were together. Well. It was like living with an old married couple.

I got changed as fast as I could and joined Pete in the small lounge area, curling up on the pale blue couch. Pete bustled around in the kitchenette, pouring boiling water into two mugs.
"Here. Drink it, it'll stop you from getting pneumonia, or worse, losing your voice." Pete shoved one of the mugs into my hands and sat on the couch opposite me. I couldn't understand why losing my voice would be worse than getting pneumonia. In fact, losing my voice would be a godsend. I eyed the steaming liquid and gingerly took a sip.
"Where are the others?" Pete asked.
"Still over at the venue. I guess they're cleaning up or something."
"Ah, right." A peaceful silence settled over us, interrupted only by the sound of rain on the roof.  I began to feel a headache coming on, but thought nothing of it. I finished my tea within 5 minutes, and got up to put it in the sink.
"No, let me. You don't look so good, Ryan." Pete frowned, taking my mug from me.
"I'm fine." I lied, the headache worsening.
"No really, you're very pale."
"Pete I'm fine." I insisted, walking over to the bus door.
"I'll go over and get the others." I explained, grabbing an umbrella and stepping outside into the rain.
"Ryan, if you feel sick you should go to the docto-" Pete's voice was drowned out by the sound of rolling thunder. I closed the door and started the short walk over to the dressing room doors. I glanced up into the sky, and squeezed my eyes shut as the headache pounded through my temples. When I opened my eyes, I saw black dots dancing in front of me, and the umbrella falling, and I saw the ground get closer at a surprising rate. And then I didn't really see anything at all.

***

I woke to the sound of Spencer drumming his fingers on the arm of a chair.
"Can you not." I croaked, opening my eyes a bit but then immediately shutting them when my head throbbed violently.
"Ryan!" Spencer exclaimed. "You're awake!"
"Well... Yeah. Did I faint or something?"
"Yeah you did, right on the concrete. How're you feeling?"
"Honestly, not too hot. Do you think maybe I could have some aspirin? This headache is killing me." I winced, squinting at Spencer and propping myself up on one elbow so I could get a better look at my surroundings. I was on the couch in the bus, an ugly yellow blanket draped over me.
"Where's everyone else?" I asked.
"Pete and Patrick went out to get a doctor, Andy, Gabe, Joe and Jon are still helping the roadies pack up."
"I don't need a doctor, I'm really okay. Can you call Patrick and tell him I'm fi-"
"Ryan, you fainted...."
"I'm fine."
"Whatever man. You're still getting checked by a doctor." Spencer shrugged, sauntering out of the tiny living room. I squeezed my eyes shut and flopped back down into the soft couch. Why the hell did I faint? I don't think I've ever fainted before in my life. I was jolted out of my thoughts as the bus door flew open with a bang.
"Is that you Patrick?" Spencer called from the driver seat.
"Yes, and I've got a doctor with me."
"Ah, good. Where's Pete?"
"He went out to get stuff." Patrick bustled in and took his coat off, followed by a tall man with a thick dark beard.
"Ryan. I'm Dr Williamson." The tall man smiled kindly, glancing around the small room as he extended his hand. I shook it unenthusiastically, eager for him to leave. I'm fine, really. I'm fine.
"Hi, I don't mean to be rude or anything but there's actually no need for me to see a doctor so you can go, I don't want to keep you from any other patients that actually need to be seen." I mumbled, letting go of his hand and slumping back down on the couch. I could feel my face getting hot. From embarrassment for sure, not because I'm sick. Because I'm not. I'm not sick.
"I don't mean to be rude either, but you fainted, Ryan. That's a bit serious. I mean if it had been a hot day, and you'd over heated then it would be normal. But it's not hot so... Have you eaten today?" He asked, his dark eyebrows knitting together.
"I..." I racked my brains trying to remember the last 24 hours. "I can't remember."
"I made him tea!" Pete cut in.
"So all you've eaten today is... Some tea? That doesn't even count as eating that's... That's just drinking." Dr. Williamson frowned, giving me an accusatory stare. Voices began to approach from outside the bus, and I glanced towards the bus door as it opens. Joe walked in, followed by Brendon.
"Yeah, I heard he-" Brendon stopped and turned to look at me. "Oh. Hi." He grinned sheepishly, and I could tell he'd been talking about me. Great, so everyone knows I fainted.
"Hi Brendon, hi Joe." I sighed.
"How are you feeling?"
"I'm fine, honestly. A-ok. Just dandy."
"Are you sure? You look pale." Brendon worried on his bottom lip.
"I hate to interrupt but actually Ryan's right, he's fine. Just hungry." The doctor smiled, as if this was amusing to him. How is this amusing? It's anything but amusing. The headache keeps pounding, and I squint my eyes to be able to look at Brendon again.
"So just get yourself some food, okay?"
"Okay..." The doctor turned to Patrick and talked to him about making sure I eat, then walked out the door.
"I'm ordering you Taco Bell," Pete called across the bus. "What do you want?"
"I don't care." I pulled the covers over my head, falling asleep to the soothing sound of rain on the roof.