Stick To the Script // Danny O'Donoghue

Chapter 42-Late Night Date Night

Danny

I take her folded up picture out while I lay, squeezed in between two walls, my curtain closed.

I run my fingers along the curled edges and the crinkles across her face. I take a deep breath and try not to cry.

I'm always more emotional while I'm touring. Seeing all the fans, hearing their stories, and playing live almost every night, brings loads of emotions to the table.

This may be a short tour, but it still feels like an eternity until I will see her. And being so far away, not able to be there for her, it breaks my heart.

I hear Mark and Glen walking down the aisle of the bus, being quiet as not to wake me.

They talk about insignificant details of life that I can't even dare think about right now, like the latest current events and who gets the last green tea packet.

I guess they're the lucky ones...

Glen doesn't have to be away from his girlfriend since she's our manager and Mark is just used to this by now. He doesn't seem to get too bent out of shape about being apart from Rina. But then, he and Rina have a different dynamic to their relationship than Bryna and I. They aren't as attached. They have kids that they have to put first.

Mark misses his boys more than anything. I can see it in his eyes. But he knows he is doing this not only for himself, but for them too. He has to make a living for them.

Meanwhile, I'm falling apart every time I think of her. I'm sneaking whiskey and hiding it in my little compartment by my bed in the middle of the night when they boys are all sound asleep and the bus is moving swiftly along to the next venue.

I finger the round neck of the bottle right now, closing my eyes and sighing before taking it out and downing a swig.

She doesn't know that I have this picture of her. No one knows. No one except Glen who saw me take it out just before one of our shows. He pretended he didn't see though.

I hear a knock on the hard surface of the wall just beside my bed and within seconds Mark is pulling my curtain aside and peering in at me.

I just barley have enough time to hide the whiskey and the picture.

"You okay mate?"

I look at him like he's crazy. "Yeah why wouldn't I be?"

"I thought I heard you sniffling up a storm in here." he says and then looks me in the eyes, "And you're crying."

I reach up and feel the tears forming in my eyes.

"I'm not crying." I say, wiping my eyes dry. "I'm think I'm just coming down with a cold. I'm a little sniffly and my eyes are watery."

He nods, giving me a sad smile, "Okay we'll try to get some rest mate. You can't be getting sick we still have three weeks left of the tour."

Ugh, don't remind me. I think.

He closes my curtain and I take out the picture once more, staring at every laugh line on her face that shows in her smile, every curve and edge and perfect imperfection.

I imagine myself standing in our bedroom doorway at home with her only just across the room from me, bundled up in a white bed sheet and nothing more.

I walk swiftly, straight to her and she gasps as I gently swipe my thumb and pointer finger along her jawline and to her chin as if I'm pinching it.

I sigh and stroke her check and ask, "Are you alright?"

She gulps as I place my hand on the side of her head, by her ear, pushing her hair back. Our foreheads press together and after a few moments we kiss, my hand pushing her hair back and holding her head still as I passionately love her.