padam - a jan peteh pov story

7

I didn't hear anything from Bojan for two days. Every time I attempted to relax, to pretend that the battlefield of my mind could act as a sanctuary, I suddenly tripped and fell onto yet another mine, blowing my thoughts out of proportion and obliterating any safe space I had built into thousands of tiny pieces. I attempted to gather them back up each time, to feel like I could be free in my own head, yet the cruel cycle just continued repeating until I sat up, bolt upright.

Igor had been asleep beside me for a few hours, yet quickly became alert after realising I was alive and sentient. Stretching dramatically, he let out a huge yawn that showcased his sandpaper tongue and lines of white teeth. His ears retreated as he carried this out; they folded like paper aeroplanes onto the top of his head, rising like miniscule mountains. After completing his routine, he padded onto my legs, striking the pressure points in my thighs and almost making me wince - I should have been used to it by now, but it felt like no matter where my sensitive spots shifted to, he would be able to locate them still in order to target them personally.

Wandering carelessly, he flung his tail into my face, causing me to cough slightly and retract my head towards the headboard. He then turned around to greet my face, his rough lick meeting the stubble on my right cheek. I proceeded to wrap my arms around his small body and lift him into my arms, where he mewed reluctantly. I chuckled a little at this, scratching the top of his head with a singular finger.

After a few minutes of gentle teasing, he got bored, beginning to wriggle around in my grasp, and I released him. I watched as he jumped elegantly from the bed and pushed open the near-closed door, exiting the bedroom. His little steps clicked around the front room as he headed off to his next resting spot, eventually turning silent as he deemed somewhere adequate.

Searching for a new distraction, I picked up my phone and opened Twitter, quickly occupying myself with an absentminded stroll along the timeline. Being on the official band account, various posts came up of us. At the start, it had felt surreal - people talking about, writing about, drawing fanart based around our concerts, pictures, content. Yet now, looking through the assortment of tweets I was presented with, I discovered that I had become accustomed to the once-abnormal feeling.

However, very quickly, the lighthearted threads turned serious. The transition from people chatting about me and Nace to questioning our recent posts was not in any way seamless; I noticed immediately. There weren't just a few either - an entire army of them appeared from nowhere. The feeling I had managed to rid myself of after a few years of being in the public eye washed back over me like floodwater

nebismelover: wonder where bojan's at

M3TULJ1: everyone asking where bojan is secretly knows kris is just sick of him

mrfyontop: maybe bojan's ill, joker out fans stop invading their private lives challenge

jokeroutaustria: Joker Out lead singer Bojan Cvjeticańin absent from recent posts as fans begin to question his health.

carpekris: hope bojan rests up before friday

There were plenty more that I chose not to read; I certainly didn't need to unpack everything right now. My main concern was that the fans could tell something was going on, no matter how good their intentions.

Questioning who to message about this, wondering who would know the best way to figure it all out, I was quickly cut short by a notification from Nace.

nace

11:32

I need to tell everyone about something going on twitter but I'm not sure how to do it

This was something I could talk about.

i've just seen it, was going to ask if you knew, no ideas on how to tell everyone though

maybe ask the others

I'm going to call them, do you want to be on there too?

yes, available all day

After reacting to my message with a thumbs-up, Nace left the chat. I observed that he was still online, probably talking to the others.

I quickly realised that this was going to be another cause to overthink; I already have the persisting fear that someone would suddenly get in contact with me to say that he was going to do something stupid. Some impulse decision that he would soon come to regret, like his short solo-career-oriented adventure a few years ago.

I had managed to resist telling the others about our little interaction, yet I hadn't completely discarded the idea that Bojan had said something to Kris. The last two days had been a total debate in my head as to whether I should say something to him. If he only knew one side, he would probably be tempted to take it - especially due to my silence, an action that would typically suggest that I was in the wrong. However, I didn't want to bring it up unprovoked, and there was no way to truly know if he had been told. Yet still, a few times, particularly yesterday evening, I had come close to it.

Luckily my nerves has gotten the better of me and caused me to stay silent.

Floating off into space, I wondered about what would happen if I did tell the others. Would they be pleased that I had confronted him? Would they say that he didn't deserve it? I could picture both outcomes, and given that I could scarcely think about the way I had spoken to him without cringing in remorse, I made the executive decision to keep things to myself.

I was snapped out of my questioning spiral by the familiar sound of my ringtone; knowing who it was without even looking, I instinctively reached for the answer button, holding my phone to my ear immediately after pressing it. I was instantly greeted by plenty of chatter, ongoing conversations; I was unsure as to whether I had been added to the call late, or that Kris had just started on a random rant. The second was probably the more likely outcome.

'Janči, it's a video call.' Jure snickered down the phone. I quickly realised my mistake and positioned the camera in front of my face.

'What's this about, then?' Kris asked, after finishing whatever he was saying. It looked as though he was walking down the street, further supported by the low quality of his video. His eyes were clearly focused elsewhere, and his hand shook with each step he took.

'Nace?' I requested.

There's people on Twitter. Worried about Bojan.' he explained, his tone serious. 'They're wanting to know where he is.'

'Well, what are they saying?' Kris enquired curiously. He stepped into a nook in the road and steadied himself, his brow knitting as he became intrigued.

'Some are suggesting he's ill. The others are mainly joking.' he informed, racking through his brains for anything else. When he found nothing, he looked back towards the screen, anticipating our responses.

'Why don't we say that, then? That he's resting before Friday?' Jure chipped in, before Kris had the chance to open his mouth and suggest the same thing.

'Good idea.' I agreed, still looking into the box where Nace sat. He had placed his phone propped up against something so that we could see his full upper half; I could tell from his posture that he was sitting with his legs far apart, leaning his elbows onto his knees - a typical sign that he was worried.

'Who's writing it?' Jure asked, lying back on the sofa and raking his hands through his hair.

'I can, if you guys want.' Nace suggested.

'Everyone come to mine, we'll do it there.' Kris interrupted unintentionally - the delay had caused him to speak before he heard Nace's offer.
'You're all free today?'

We all responded in agreement.