hømetøwn

• : / forty / : •

We were staying in a flat across the street from our old place. It was spacier here, with enough bedrooms so that Ryan didn't have to sleep on the floor. But every time I passed the window looking out across the street, I saw the charred building we used to live in. Weeks had passed since it happened. My phone had died and I didn't recharge it. Josh was gone. And time with Brendon was dwindling.

"You could come with us, you know," he said one morning, as he poured a bowl of cereal. He didn't look up at me. There was a nervous edge to his voice.

"Come with you where?" I said.

"You know," he said. "Away. On tour. With us -- Panic! at the Disco."

A door banged open and Ryan emerged from his bedroom, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. His hair stuck up in every direction. There was a moment of silence, then Tyler came meandering out of the room behind him. They sat at the table beside me. I looked from Tyler to Ryan. Ryan had smudged black fingerprints on his neck. Brendon's eyes narrowed.

"Good morning," I said.

Ryan nodded at me. Tyler smiled. His hair was crazy, too. The back was ruffled in countless directions.

I looked back to Brendon. "I don't know about that," I said.

"About what?" said Ryan.

"Brendon just invited me to come on tour with you guys."

Ryan blanched.

"You want some cereal, Ryan?" said Brendon.

He opened the fridge and took out a jug of milk. Ryan and him exchanged glances. Then Brendon shuddered, and dropped it on the table.

"Good God."

"But about the tour," I said again. "You've been working towards this your whole life. And if you haven't noticed, I'm kind of a magnet for disaster. I don't think I should go. I don't want to risk something -- happening."

Brendon started to say something, but Ryan interrupted.

"Yeah, I hate to say this, but she's kind of right."

Tyler's eyebrows furrowed. Brendon's face stayed neutral.

Ryan gave me an apologetic grimace. "I mean, don't get me wrong, Lake. I know what's happened hasn't been your fault. Not necessarily, anyway. But there do seem to be some people who are...uh...wanting to give you shit. And we don't have a lot of room for shit reception when we're on tour."

"I know," I said. But even as I said it, my toes curled. It was hard to fight a sense of betrayal. "I know. That's why I said it."

I waited for Brendon to say something, to fight for me, to try to make me come along with him so he could keep me safe. But Brendon poured his milk in silence.

"Hey -- what's this?" said Tyler suddenly.

He pointed across the table. Ryan reached over and grabbed it.

"A match," said Ryan. He held it up to the light, studying the stick.

I kept my face smooth, clear of emotion. Everyone looked at me.

"I thought we'd gotten rid of them all," said Ryan. "Lake. I thought we told you not to get anymore."

"It's not mine," I said.

"Yeah, okay." He clearly didn't believe me. "Yeah, definitely no to the tour thing, then. Lake, empty your pockets."

"What?!"

"Empty your pockets," said Ryan again.

We both looked to Brendon. He stood very still, staring at us. I pled for back-up with my eyes. His lips tightened.