Don't Keep Love Around

Prologue

High off of adrenaline, the rhythmic thumping of Beau's heart can be felt in his ears. There's no denying the rush he feels as he flitters around stage, basking in the energetic atmosphere of the arena. The soles of his jet black vans squeak as he makes his way to center stage. The screams of fans in the crowd increase in volume as he moves closer to the mass of excited bodies.

Satellite's last show of their tour alongside Halsey and Nate Ruess is coming to a close quicker than any of the four boys could have ever anticipated. The months passed with a daunting accelerance, making it feel like the three months they had just spent on the North East leg of this American tour had only just begun. To Beau, it was hard to imagine that the four of them had performed thirty-four shows already. Everyday of this tour felt like the first one and he'd be lying if he said he wasn't a little sad that is was ending.

With each passing second of Drew's drum solo, Beau's heart pounds harder in his chest. The beats are sporadic, making everything in his sights slow down into a blurred haze. The bright lights above the stage cascade down onto the lead singer, illuminating his creamy complexion. The perspiration on the boy's body is more than noticeable when he pushes his damp black hair back with his free hand. Beau hasn't relaxed a second of this show, his glistening skin is proof of that. Of all of the Satellite boys he's the one with the most stage presence.

With moist palms and ragged breath, Beau slows his movements to set the stage for his upcoming lyrics. He switches his gaze from the young girls in the crowd to Drew who is quickly tapping away at the skins of his drum set. Drew's solo is only moments from ending prompting Beau to switch his attention to the guitar wielding boys who are standing face to face, strumming with a youthful passion. His bandmates look fairly at ease while Beau feels like he's moments from exploding.

Beau's anxiety to end the show only gets worse as the song gets closer to it's end. The second Drew's solo ends, the only thing that can be heard is the light strumming of Tom and Scott's guitars. Beau counts out the measures of the song in his head while he awaits his turn to come in. His eyes scan the entirety of the crowd--the sea of faces are his only anchor as he takes the final breath needed for the song.

A prominent A natural riff echoes in the right in-ear of the microphone pack tucked into the back of Beau's tightly-fitting, ripped black skinny jeans. On cue, the words he wrote a year ago leave his lips in a slowed fashion: the rasp of his voice complementing the pop rock melody being played out by his bandmates. "Are mixed signals lost in the satellite?" Without a second thought, Beau points his mic out to the audience, signaling them to sing the last line of the song back to him.

When the moment comes, a scattered echo of voices and screams take over, "Was that kiss meant to mean goodbye?" The end of the last word lingers, ringing in harmony with Tom's last chord.

The anxiety that was taking a hold on Beau melts away as soon as he hears the crowd's applause. A crystal white smile appearing on his face, catching the brightness of the artificial rays beaming down on him. 

His golden brown irises scan over the faces in the sold out arena. From the pit to the rafters there are signs, cameras, and other miscellaneous items being waved excitedly by people of all ages. Their applause a roar of sound but nothing in comparison to the loudness of Beau's beating heart. 

Breathlessly, Beau addresses the sold arena, "Thank you so much, Boston!" He walks closer to the edge of the stage, his bony index finger going over the entirety of the crowd as he speaks, "You guys are the best audience we've ever had."

The fans respond with a chorus of screams. Beaus already beaming smile only gets brighter, his cheeks revealing those dimples that drive the girls wild. The screams get louder causing a light chuckle to escape Beau's dry throat. He watches the people in the front row hold each other and fan themselves, some of them screaming praises of adoration back at him and others crying what he hopes to be happy tears. It's nights like these that remind Beau that he has the best job in the world. Nothing is better than this.

Lost in the crowd and his own thoughts, Beau is surprised when he feels a strong arm drape over his shoulder. His initial shock fades when he realizes that he's being pulled into a group hug. When the boys release, they exchange delighted glances. They're all breathless and unbearably sweaty but in the moment none of that matters. Together, they share a collective nod, ending the show the way they always have.

The four of them scream into Beau's mic, "We are Satellite. Goodnight!"

Once off stage, the four hyped-up boys are immediately surrounded by security guards. They haven't even had a chance to catch their breath before they hear a myriad of voices calling for them. Unfortunately for them, tonight will not be followed by a night on the tour bus and another show the following evening. Nate and Halsey will continue on to their European leg of the tour in a few weeks but tonight's show was Satellite's last stop. The only thing left on their schedules now is the after party for the tour.

In the dressing room Satellite's manager, Brooke, reminds the band that they've got a meeting with the record label in the afternoon and forbids them from getting wasted. Of course they promise not to--it's not a hard promise to keep when the band isn't old enough to drink in America. However, she remains unconvinced specifying to them--more specifically Beau--that they have to behave themselves. Her demand is repeated several times before she lets the boys go shower.

Satellite's styling team is in their dressing room when they return from the showers. Brushes, combs, blow dryers, makeup kits, and clothes are set up around the room waiting to be used. The boy's take their respective places, being passed around the room by their stylists and swapping clothes with each other despite their team's wishes. After they've all been primped to a state of decency, their rowdy nature is kicked into overdrive.

The boys leave the venue, heading to the club Brooke booked for the after party in a large black limo with tinted windows. Halsey and Nate join them for the ride, the six of them chatting excitedly like they haven't seen each other in forever. Even though they've been touring together for months the boys barely know Nate and Halsey. Drew and Scott take this limo ride as an opportunity to pick their brains; Tom listening attentively to the conversation and Beau spacing out into his own world.

Left to his thoughts, Beau can't help but wonder what tomorrow's meeting with the label will entail. The last time that Satellite visited the label they were told they were going on tour for three months. Who knows what the boss might have planned for them now?

The promotions Satellite has done since being signed nearly two and a half years ago have varied more than acts at a circus; because of this they never knew what kind of gig they would be up for next. The events planned under their label had always been unique--they liked that about Fueled By Ramen--but they could also be unsettling at times. Not knowing what you were up for could mean you were up for anything--and that only furthered Beau's anxiety. He'd never really been one for surprises.

Beau's mind is still running through all the possible scenarios of tomorrow's meeting as he gazes out of the tinted window across from him. The low droll of conversation coming from the other five people in the car is nothing but background noise as the limo passes through Boston's crowded city streets. Beau doesn't realize that the car has stopped until the low droll has turned into loud muffled shouts of admiration and anticipation. He's not surprised when he sees a hoard of people bunched up on the sidewalk in front of the club. When the limo door opens the voices only get louder.

One by one the limos occupants exit the car, making Beau the last one inside. Taking a deep breath, he puts on his Ray Bans and pulls himself out of the vehicle. The sound around him intensifies as paparazzi shout his name from all different directions, the flash of their cameras lightning bolts to the clear night sky. He puts on his best smile, walking slightly behind his bandmates to the doors of the club. The flashing and the voices don't stop, they're just replaced by electronic beats and laser lights as the boys make their way into the weird ambience of neon lit club.

Once inside, Beau lets himself go, ultimately deciding that he'll just leave the thought of tomorrow's meeting for tomorrow. He's had a great night so far and he doesn't want to ruin it by worrying about things he can't control. He knows it's useless to ponder over the unknown so he pushes the thought aside, focusing on the one thing he does know. Tonight will be a night he always remembers.

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A/N: To everyone who previously read this when it was in first-person pov, do you like it more now that it's in third-person pov? I worked really hard on rewriting this and the coming chapters. I would greatly appreciate any feedback you have.