The End Of Us, Sid Vicious X OC

Down shtook

As the band trudged towards the airport, Johnny found himself immersed in the internal chaos that mirrored the tumultuous weather outside. Raindrops, like his scattered thoughts, painted a disoriented landscape on the window of the van. The dim lights flickered through the gloom, casting an eerie glow on the faces of his bandmates, the cold January weather caused the morning to be even darker then before.

Inside, the atmosphere was thick with unspoken tension. Johnny's mind was a tempest of emotions, each raindrop seemingly echoing the pitter-patter of his unsettled heart. The confession, the rejection, it all reverberated within the confines of his consciousness.
His eyes, usually sharp with defiance, now carried a weary edge. The raw vulnerability he had laid bare to Vanity still lingered, a lingering ghost haunting his every thought. Rejection was a bitter pill for a man who had built his persona on defiance, but now, Johnny grappled with the unfamiliar territory of personal defeat.

The drone of the van's engine blended with the cacophony in Johnny's mind. Memories of the confession replayed like a scratched vinyl record, each repetition deepening the ache. The airport loomed ahead, a symbol of departure not only in terms of geography but also in the emotional landscape Johnny now navigated.
The bandmates exchanged glances, sensing the shift in Johnny's demeanor. He sat in silence, staring out at the rain-soaked city, the reflections of streetlights dancing in his weary eyes. The rebellion that usually fueled his spirit was momentarily dampened, replaced by a vulnerability that left him exposed.

"you alright John mate?" Steve asked, quickly looking at Paul then back to John. he didn't answer instead he continued to look out of the window, at the orange street lights.
The van pulled up to the airport entrance, the automatic doors sliding open like a portal to an uncertain future. Johnny, surrounded by the band, stepped into the fluorescent-lit terminal, each step a reminder of the rejection he carried like an invisible weight.

As the group moved towards the check-in counters, Johnny's gaze wandered aimlessly. The buzzing of the airport, the chatter of travelers, all became distant background noise to the cacophony within. He grappled with the internal storm, a rebellious spirit wrestling with the unfamiliarity of heartache.

Johnny's watch read half past seven. They were expecting Sid to be late, what they weren't expecting was to find Sid asleep in a chair at one of the cafe's. Steve and Paul sent Johnny a look before nudging him to go over to Sid, Johnny cautiously walked up to him, seeing him slouched in the chair like that caused alarm for them all, for all they know he could've shot up in the toilets and od'd.
Johnny prodded him slightly, he didn't move.

He did it again only harder this time and Sid jolted slightly. falling off of the chair and knocking his suitcase over in the process. he squinted his eyes and adjusted to the light, his head feeling heavy and dizzy. "what the fuck?" he mumbled and looked up at the boys. "Alright" he greeted them casually.

They all shared confused glances at one another "What're you doing here?" Steve asked "waiting for the plane" Sid stated, not registerring what Steve had asked him. "i think he means why are you here before us?" Paul asked, Sid thought for a moment, his brain till foggy from his nap. he'd been so tired and ever since he left Vanity's flat all he'd wanted to do was sleep.

"Wanted to get here a bit sharpish like ya know what i mean?" Sid replied grogily and rubbed his eyes. "What time'd you get here?" Steve asked "ten to five" the boys eyes widened in shock. "Ten to Five! Jesus Christ Sid you've been here about three hours" ten to five...ten minuets before his best friend betrayed him.

he nodded his head not really wanting to talk. deciding to just end the conversation there, they all began to walk towards the gate, The airport terminal buzzed with the chaotic energy of departure, but in Sid's world, the noise seemed muffled by the weight of guilt that clung to him like a second shadow. Dressed in his punk attire, Sid moved through the crowds with an uneasy gait, the imminent transatlantic flight to America tugging at his conscience.