worst ; gawsten

two

awsten has a panic attack in this chapter, so if that's triggering i'd skip starting from ciara's tweet

They're at a truckers lounge in the middle of nowhere and they still have four hours to go until they reach the venue.

He's starting to think being at home would be arguably so much worse than this because being alone with his thoughts, going over and over it in his head, would be constant. He has shows and meet and greets and friends to distract him here; he's not locked in his room hiding from everything and even though that's where part of him wants to be he knows this is more productive.

Geoff and Otto and Zakk and Jawn and everyone else are getting food and he's sitting in the empty wash room. He's alone but he's not because he has his thoughts as company and that's like having his worst enemy sitting beside him. She may as well be here, going through the laundry list of reasons he's horrible as some kind of fucked up excuse for fucking someone else.

He has to sing 21 Questions tonight. Maybe not Powerless, but 21 Questions is a fan favorite and they weren't too happy about it being cut. So it has to stay on the setlist and he has to play it and listen to the crowd scream it back at him and try not to start sobbing in the middle.

She got tired of his time. She dropped him and took another guy on. Everything he was worried about while they were together was valid. He told himself to stop worrying and enjoy the moment but now he knows he had reason to worry and reason to be wary because nothing is ever as good as it seems. Nothing is pure good; the universe doesn't care about him that much.

He blinks and bites down on his lip. It's that ache, the one you feel behind your eyes and throughout your skull because you want to cry and you need to cry but it doesn't want to come no matter how big the lump in your throat is. He coughs dryly, a hand on his chest. There's a fire in there, stoked every time the emotion builds up and up, waiting for the point of no return when everything goes too far and he burns to the ground.

He wants a drink.

Geoff says vodka burns going down and tastes like rubbing alcohol. It hurts like a bitch but when it works it works and everything floats away. Every time Geoff's got drunk off vodka he's woken up the next morning not remembering shit and Awsten would kill for that right about now.

A vodka infused tidal wave to wipe his memory of the last year and a half. Forget about her and the promises they made and the dreams they had and the thought they would last forever.

He reaches for his guitar and pulls his phone out of his pocket.

He can't drink, but he can write.

The lyrics that come out of this breakup may be the only good thing about it.

...

"You sure Aws didn't want anythin'?"

Geoff shakes his head, swirling his straw around in his drink. "He said he wanted ta be alone."

Otto whistles, sliding into the hard metal chair across from him with his own cup. "Did someone tell him about-"

"Yeah," Jawn mutters. "It's such fuckin' bullshit. If they knew why he doesn't wanna sing it they wouldn't make him."

"'Least he doesn't havta do Powerless too."

"Nah, they're makin' him do it."

"He wrote so much about her, fuck, he never saw this comin'."

"None of us did."