Connection -- A Ross Lynch Story

Right Now

There was only one person that I felt like I could talk to about everything. What I needed was someone to tell me that I was right. Someone who was on my side regardless and who would comfort me when I needed it most. I was going through a breakup, mourning the death of a friendship. Not only that, but I was mourning the end of an era. I didn't know anything for sure, but it felt like the band I had worked so hard to build was crumbling at the seams. Carson was my person. Now he wanted nothing to do with me.

The only person I really had was Ross.

"I really don't know what I'm going to do," I said. The odd pink carpet in the dressing room squished between my toes as I paced in front of the couch where Ross sat. He crossed his legs and his eyes followed me as I walked back and forth, following the same path each time I passed him. "I'm not ready for all of this to end."

All of this. I couldn't live without the music. It flowed through my veins, pulsed through my entire body. Music was all of me. It consumed me. There was no way for me to just keep it inside. I thrived on the connection between the notes, the lyrics, and the people it touched. I couldn't give it up.

Ross twisted the ring around his right ring finger as he nodded slowly along to what I was saying. "So what? Bands change their lineups all the time, Trin." He reached out and hooked his finger into the pocket of my jeans. When I turned to face him, he started to speak once again. "Will you sit down and take a deep breath?"

"Sure." The comfort the couch provided was a welcome change from the burning in my thighs from the constant movement. Ross rested his hand on my knee and took a deep breath along with me. And exhale; I felt loose as my lungs pushed out the heavy air. Inhale; I felt light as my lungs filled with the fresh oxygen. My eyelids fluttered closed as I rested my head on Ross's shoulder. "It'll be okay?" I asked him quietly.

His head tilted slightly and rested on mine. "Don't worry about the past or the future," he hummed. "All you have is right now."

"Right now is pretty great." I didn't want right now to end, but time couldn't stop. Time didn't care if the moment was just right. Its only duty was to keep on, maintaining order in a chaotic world. Time was just doing its job, but how I wished it could just take a break. Just ten minutes. Five, even. Anything.

We weren't so lucky.

A knock on the door startled both of us. "Show time!"

I lifted my head and looked over at the boy with the sleepy chocolate eyes. "See you after."

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"Did you read all the Tweets about the show tonight?" Asher asked me. He looked how I felt: utterly exhausted. The darkness that clouded his eyes and drone of his voice meant trouble. I shook my head and sat down across from him on the couch. "Well, they aren't great."

My fingers massaged my temples but they couldn't magically cure the pounding headache that caused white flashes in my vision. My body yearned for my own bed and my eyes were begging for a restful night's sleep. Those luxuries that I had taken for granted only a month and a half before were only a few weeks away, and for that I was thankful. "How bad could it really be?" I yawned.

"Neon Lightning disappointed tonight. Get it together guys," he read from his screen. He scrolled with his thumb until something else stood out. "Wish I could get back the time and money Neon Lightning stole from me tonight." Another flick of his thumb. "NL look like they need to call it quits for the rest of this tour. 0/10 do not recommend." He clicked his phone off and tossed it on the cushion next to him. "I can't say I disagree with them."

Normally I would have cursed him for reading the negative comment, but I was with him this time. No matter how much we rehearsed or how hard we worked on stage, there was a wall between us and Carson. The natural banter we had, it was gone. There was a disconnect between him and the rest of us. He wasn't responsive. All we got was all he promised to give: the bare minimum. Unfortunately, the bare minimum wouldn't cut it. It wasn't cutting it for the band, and it wasn't cutting it for the fans. It was the fans I hated to disappoint the most. "I really don't want to say it," I sighed. "Please tell me that you are thinking the same thing."

"It's Carson," Piper joined in. Her blue polka-dotted pajama shirt bunched around her stomach as she sat down next to Asher.

"Agreed," Asher nodded, pulling Piper onto his lap and nuzzling into her neck.

"Thank God, it's not only me." I felt a pressure lifted from my shoulders knowing that I wasn't imaging it. Now that it was out in the open and we were in agreement, we had to take the next step. We had to discuss what it all meant for us, as a band, and for us, as individuals trying to make it in this fucked up world.

Carson stepped up onto the bus in nothing but his pajama pants. His hands rested on his sculpted hips as he watched our reactions to his presence. He hadn't been back on our bus in weeks. Not since the blow up. "What's going on?" he asked hesitantly.

We all looked from each other up to him, and then back at one another. We all knew what had to be done, but I wasn't going to lead this one. Not this time. Asher sighed and motioned for Piper to scoot off before he spoke. "Fuck, I guess we're doing this now," he said. "Listen, bro. We all need to talk. I'm calling a band meeting. Right here, right now. Have a seat."

Right now, there was no going back.