Can You Keep A Secret?

Chapter Thirty-Seven

-Jack's POV-

My time at home was spent restlessly. I visited the places of my childhood, where some of my best memories were spent, but everything seemed to lack the luster they once teemed with. It was as if a metal trophy had sat outside in the rain and slowly began to rust until you could hardly tell what it used to be, or even read the plaque for what it was for.

It wasn't as if I wasn't grateful to be home. I loved Ireland, I really did, and although England was great, there were certain things that it could never compare to. I couldn't quite touch upon why nothing seemed as special this time around – It was as if I had packed up the unease and uncertainty from the flat into my suitcase, and brought it along with me on the trip.

I could only imagine how the other boys were dealing with it – I only spoke to Brooklyn, who tried to keep things light and upbeat all the time. I mindlessly scrolled through twitter, trying to reconnect my heart and mind with the positive things that were surely going on in the world – Everyone experienced each day in a different way.

I was about to put my phone away when something caught my eye – A theory written by a fan about what had gone on in the past couple of weeks. I suppose it had been stupid to think that they would accept everything we said at face value and go merrily along their ways (although that situation would have been ideal.)

The good news was, they had no real idea of what had actually happened – Just that something was off. They didn't believe that Rye was really just sick at the show, and they noted upon how inactive we all had been on social media, and the lack of snapchats, Instagram stories, and live.ly's there had been – More proof that we were hiding something.

I looked through the replies to it – Somebody had said that if we were hiding something, maybe it was good, not bad, and that we should be left to reveal it in our own time. Somebody else said that it might have something to do with our personal lives, and then noted how worried they were. A third person commented on how she'd only seen Brooklyn and Mikey at the show – And how Mikey hadn't said anything at all and had been very quiet and reserved, which was unusual for him.

I screenshotted the important things and sent it to a groupchat with the boys, saying how we would either have to confess, make up an excuse as to why we'd been acting so weird, or, at the very least, start putting out more content to hopefully distract them.

It felt off, and a bit wrong to me, that we had become so disconnected with not just the fans, but also each other. Every day, we seemed less and less like a band, and more and more like a couple of people who had something tragic happen, and that was now the only thing that we were bonded by.

My mum came in as I set my phone down with a dramatic sigh and flopped backwards onto my bed.

"Jack, honey, what's up? You've been acting so down lately," she said, sitting beside me and resting her hand on my forehead, trying to check for a fever.

"I'm fine," I protested. "Just tired."

"Are you sure?" She asked, with the all-knowing tone that only parents possessed.

I pulled a pillow over my face.

"Yes. Now go away." My voice was muffled as I spoke.

"Okay, okay," she said, and I could feel her getting off of the bed. "I was only trying to help."

I moved the pillow away from my eyes, watching her walk out and softly close the door behind her. I wished that I had had the guts to tell her what I was feeling – I'd already confessed to her what had truly happened, unable to keep up such an untruthful front with my family. But there was something else that I was hiding, and I wasn't sure if I would ever let it out to anyone. It scared me, but it was something that I thought about more and more with each passing day – Maybe I wasn't meant to be in Road Trip. Maybe it just wasn't meant to be.

Maybe I should quit the band.