Somewhere in the Middle

A Song

Jamie looked up as the bathroom door opened. "How you feeling?"

Greg's hair was dripping wet, his nose was red, his skin pale, and he still looked exhausted when he said, voice thick with congestion, "I've been better."

Jamie studied his friend for a moment as Greg lifted a tissue, blew his nose, and practically fell back onto the couch, his eyes closing almost as soon as his head hit the cushion.

"You sure you're feeling well enough to -"

"It's the last show," Greg muttered, trying to take a breath through his still-stuffed nose. He looked over at Jamie with glassy eyes. "I'm playing it."

Before Jamie had a chance to argue anymore, Luke walked into the green room.

With Evie just behind him.

The air in the room abruptly seemed thinner, and Jamie's heart started pounding, even though she was clearly making every effort not to look at him.

He had relived that night when she'd come to his room every day, every hour, every moment since. He'd locked away the memory of her; the way she looked, all teary and mussed and beautiful; the way she smelled, even the bits that smelled like Luke; the way she felt against him, warm and solid and quaking with an energy he, too had felt; and the way she'd said his name, because it had revealed more to him than he would've thought possible.

"You alright, man?" Luke asked, studying Greg where he still sat on the couch, his eyes closed.

"I'm good," he said, "My head is pounding, but I'm good."

"I have some Tylenol," Evie said, heading for the bag she'd left in the corner of the room earlier.

Luke was still looking at Greg with a worried expression. "You think you're okay to -"

"Yes," Greg said over something like a groan. "I'm fine. It's the last show."

They were all exhausted, run-down, and Greg was the first to fall ill. It was only a matter of time before the rest of them caught it, and while the option to cancel the show was there, Jamie was glad that Greg seemed so insistent that he'd be fine.

It was their biggest show in London yet—they were playing to a sold out crowd of 1,400 people. And Jamie wanted it to be special. Not just because it was the last night of the tour, but because it was their last show for the foreseeable future. They'd be going into the studio for the next who-knows-how-long, and he wanted to treasure every last moment he could spend looking out at the people who had given him his career.

"I don't want 'em," Greg mumbled, pushing Evie's hand away.

She stared at him for a moment. "You need them, Greg."

"I'm fine."

Jamie almost laughed. No one ever likes being sick, but Greg was never good at it. He'd always done all he could to make himself feel worse. As if suffering to the best of his ability was the only way to cure his ailments.

Luckily, he didn't get sick often.

"C'mon, man, just take the pills," Luke said, picking at the food leftover from earlier.

"I'm good, dude."

"Don't be a hero, you idiot," Luke said, but he was smiling. "I know you hate taking shit, but you'll feel better."

"I feel fine now."

"You don't look fine. Or sound fine," Evie said, and Jamie tried not to be affected by the way she rolled her eyes. "Just take them, okay? Do it for me."