Camera Shy || Ben Barlow

Eight

"Why did no one buy bread?" Fil groaned, back on the band's bus, clearly upset by the rest of the band's lack of appreciation for bread.

"What am I supposed to eat if we've got no bread?" A distressed West half wailed, throwing himself onto the sofa (which, considering his more-than-small build, wasn't his finest idea - yet not as bad as jumping over his friends in a hotel).

"Cheese," Cara said, poking her head around the door and handing him a cheese string. Zach and I had been on the band's bus for ages, having sent Cara and Sam to buy re-fill snacks from the WHSmiths at the services. Apparently, last night's show had taken a lot out of the boys and the snacks were much needed, not that I'd know anything about the show, having not been there.

"He can't just live off of Cheese forever," Fil said, more than disgusted.

"Watch me," he said, determined, taking a bite out of the top of the cheese string before spitting it out and grimacing. "I can't believe I just did that to a cheese string..." I had to admit that I was genuinely horrified by the mistreatment West thought it was acceptable to show this cheese string.

"How dare you?" Zach cried, traumatised.

"I- I don't know what came over me. I-"

"It's a cheese string," Ben said, looking unimpressed. "Now, is everyone on the bus," he said, carefully, as if they'd lost someone (most likely Dani) before. A choruses of 'yes'es rang through the bus. He looked pretty satisfied, like he'd done his job as guardian of the band, the man in charge. If it were up to me, Ben Barlow, under no circumstances, would ever be in charge. Of anything. After getting to know him throughout this tour, I'd come to realise that none of the members of Neck Deep could even be trusted to brush their own teeth; it was becoming a problem. "Good to go," He shouted, looking as though he'd accomplished something, and I wondered if he did this every time they left anywhere together. We didn't have a system on our bus, but not everyone on our bus really got along.

About two hours down the M1, Ben's face paled, the light in his eyes dropping. "Hello?" He asked, raising his phone to his ear. Fil shushed Dani, who was giggling away at a joke I hadn't heard, like an older sibling would while their mother took an important phone call. "What do you mean where are we? Where are you?" Matt, Fil and Dani all immediately checked their phones, Cara, Zach and I following suit. I'd had three missed calls from Sam, even though the band only had my number for emergencies, and vice versa. Why would he call us from the bus? Why not just come and get one of us? "Right, we'll get something sorted, mate. Promise. Just... I don't know. Sit tight, yeah?" Ben hung up the phone, looking at the rest of us as though he'd seen a ghost.

"Who was that?" Dani said, like the curious, impatient little boy that he was.

"Oh, no one important. Just Sam calling from the services we left him behind at two hours ago." Ben's little grin looked legitimately painful, his teeth gritted and his cheeks forced into a fake smile.

"He's going to end your lives and enjoy every second of it," Cara said, brightly.

"Alright, slow down." Ben looked genuinely worried, but I supposed that was to be expected when one accidentally left their best friend behind over a hundred miles ago.

"I'll ring him a taxi," West grumbled, unhelpfully.

"Do you think he can afford a taxi? West, mate, Sam can't afford a bus up the road. He can't afford a taxi down the M1."

"How else do you suggest we get him there, then?"

"I suggest," Fil said, looking quite impressed with himself, "that we leave him there. We play the show and go back for him." I'd only spoken to Sam a handful of times - he was rather quiet, usually - but even I felt kind of sick at the thought of leaving him to waste away at a dodgy service station in the middle of nowhere.