Can You Keep A Secret?

Chapter Twenty-Seven

-Mikey's POV-

The crowd, the stage, the rest of the boys, everything faded but Rye. My feet moved without me even having to think, and I ran until I caught up with him, somewhere backstage. He was leaning over, panting an aura of crazed fear hanging about him.

"Rye? What's up, what happened?" I asked, approaching him cautiously.

"He was there." His voice was shaky.

"Who was there?" I rested my hand on his back, partly expecting him to go running off again.

"Him, him," he said, tripping over his words. He squeezed his eyes shut, hard. "The shooter." I could hear the others running up.

"Rye? He wasn't there," I spoke calmly, slowly, trying to hide the fear that was making its way up my throat.

"He was coming for me, he was coming onstage, why did nobody stop him?" His voice was filled with such pain, and with absolution that this had indeed, happened.

"He's in jail. He wasn't here. We wouldn't have let that happen. We wouldn't have let anyone do anything to you."

He collapsed against me, his entire body shaking with deep sobs, the kind of crying that comes from an aching soul. I held him against me, because I couldn't think of anything else to do, other than let him know that I was there. The entire situation was beyond my understanding of it, and I wasn't quite sure what was even happening – Only that it was hurting him so strongly, and in a way that I was positive I had never experienced before.

The knowledge of this, and how I had no way to fix it, made my heart feel like it was slowly tearing apart. I could feel myself start to cry, and when I looked up, I could see that I wasn't the only one. In the days leading up to now, I had sensed that there was more to this than Rye was willing to show. Even in the times that he opened up a fraction of his feelings to me, when he needed my help to do something, it was always brief, and he continued on afterwards as if it had never happened.

He had done a good job of suppressing it until this point, but now he could no longer keep it all inside, and it was pouring out for all of us to see – It was in his tears that were soaking my shirt, in his great, gaping cries and gasps for air, in the air around us all, staining the ground that we stood on, and changing everything, everything.

And then Blair was there, carefully separating us, kneeling down and taking Rye's face in his hands. He asked him what had happened, but he couldn't speak – He was taking those short, rapid gasps of air like a toddler reaching the final phase of a temper tantrum. I spoke for him, repeating what he had told me.

Andy had sat down on the ground, shaking with silent tears himself. Jack paced around nervously, and Brooklyn leaned against Liv, looking small and scared and sad, sadder than I'd ever seen him.

Whatever storm that had been brewing between me and her suddenly lost all of its value and meaning, shadowed by what was happening with Rye, which was a goddamn tornado. It sucked up everything along the way, until there was nothing but this big, swirling vortex. You couldn't see inside, couldn't reach it, couldn't stop it. In all of its glorific horror, it just was.

"If he's having hallucinations, we need to take him to the hospital. We need to know why." Blair said, speaking directly to us. It amazed me how he still managed to stay calm with everything that had happened. "Unfortunately, I need to tie up some professional things. Please help him to the car, and I'll be back as fast as I possibly can."

Liv walked over to Rye first, whispering, "Rye? It's okay. You're okay now. He was never here, I promise. We're going to leave now, okay? You're safe. We're all here for you." He didn't reply, but he did take her hand and allow her to help him up. He had stopped crying now, and it was clear to see just how laden down with exhaustion he was – I wondered if he'd slept at all.

Looking around all I saw were tear-streaked faces, confusion and an ultimate depression hanging around everyone. Happiness had never felt so far away.