Star-Crossed ✔️

30

- 30 -

"We're sorry. The person you are trying to reach is not available at this time. Please leave a message at the—"

I hung up, staring at my home screen staring back at me. It was of Noah and I on the dark ride at Six Flags, his smile shining brighter than the sun that day. Bright enough to burn my eyes and make them water. I blinked the regret away. It wasn't going to do any good to cry about it like a little girl.

Dustin was asleep in my bed, having been keeping me company so I didn't drink myself to the point of drowning on my own vomit in my sleep. I appreciated it, I really did, but it was suffocating. Even Joey was breathing down my neck, surely to make sure I was okay enough to finish the tour. I wasn't down that bad. I was just wallowing.

It was hard enough to let go of something good, but to have no idea if he was okay? I was this close to sending someone from my crew to go check on him.

Dustin stirred awake beside me. "What time is it?" he grumbled into his pillow.

"About nine," I said absently, still staring at my phone as if he'd suddenly change his mind and return my call.

"Man, go back to sleep."

I wished I could. My mind rendered me restless for the last week. Noah hadn't spoken to be since the day I beat the lights out of David MacNeil. He was fine, by the way. Just a broken nose and mild lacerations, and he only passed out from the pain, from what I heard from Joey. Not that I gave a shit. He deserved worse.

And according to the police that spoke to me that day, though I was too focused on Noah who was sitting on the curb waiting for a car to pick him up after he collected his things from the bus, MacNeil was pressing charges. I wasn't arrested, thanks to my name and occupation. But I'd have to go to court, apparently, which didn't concern me. So long as tour was over, I'd just plead guilty to aggravated assault, or whatever, and receive a slap on the wrist. Or so Harriet and Joey assured me.

What I didn't understand was what Noah was so upset about. He hated him too, I thought. The very sight of the man sent him down a spiral that I'd never understand, so why was he so angry with me? I did it for him. It was all for him. Dustin tried to talk to me about it, to try to get me to see it from Noah's perspective, but I didn't want to hear it from him. I wanted it from Noah's mouth.

That was the worst part of this whole situation. He was the one I wanted to talk to about it. I wanted to tell him what I felt in that moment, what made me snap. To explain why.

I put on a smile and performed my heart out, but there wasn't very much heart to begin with. The posts on Twitter were observant enough, noticing Noah's absence after the incident—which turned out to be viral news still—and my lack of enthusiasm for every song except Noah's song. During that one, I'd glance over toward the sidelines and hope he'd be standing there, hearing every word and understanding that I meant them. That I loved him. That I'd do anything for him.

Why didn't he understand?

"Can we get breakfast?" Dustin groaned, starting to sit up even though I knew he'd rather be asleep. He was only awake for my sake.

I sighed. "I'll order something. Go back to sleep. I'll wake you up when it's here."

Dustin patted my leg, mumbled something about how I was the best, and fell back to sleep. I got up and went out to the living space. It felt emptier without Noah and Chester here. Hell, I even missed the fat cat.

Stepping outside, I was displeased to be met with the hottest, brightest sunlight. It was putting a damper on my bad mood. I fumbled with my pack of cigarettes which I hadn't relied on very much in the past few months. The nicotine busied my mind, giving me enough of a head rush that I leaned back on the hot metal of the bus and forgot about what I was sad about for a second. But then my phone pinged, and I checked it, and it wasn't Noah, and I was sad again.