Forever is Crashing Down on Me (Austin Carlile)

Chapter Three Suitcase after Suitcase

Chapter Three Suitcase after Suitcase

The night before Austin leaves for tour.

“Austin just wash the fucking boxers,” I said, trying to throw a pair of his boxer-briefs into the washing machine, wanting to just get started on packing so that we could finish and watch a movie.

He ignored me, taking the boxers from my hands and throwing them into the garbage bin next to the washing machine.

“How many pairs of underwear did you buy?” I ask, sitting back on his bed, done arguing over underwear with Austin. He grinned a lopsided grin at me before throwing me three brand new packs of underwear towards me. “You would be so much richer if you could wear these more than once,” I muttered, throwing them in the suitcase Austin had set out on his bed for us to pack.

He would be gone for two months, and they had planned to come back at the end of the first month to do laundry before heading back out. I didn’t remember exactly where all they were playing, but I really never knew where the were playing while on tour.

I knew what was coming, once Austin started handing me jeans he’d try and convince me to come with him, and I hated saying no. There wasn’t anything keeping me here. I was living off of the inheritance of my grandparents and I didn’t have a job. The majority of my friends were Of Mice & Men. I had nothing here to keep me from going with them.

It made me feel terrible, not going with them even though they were always ready for me to come. My excuse wasn’t very plausible, considering most of the fans loved me. I was always very involved with the fans. I didn’t care I was just ‘the girlfriend’ or ‘the best friend’, their fans were amazing to talk to.

Austin walked over to his closet, starting to take random shirts off of their hangers, throwing them towards me. I started folding them and placing them in the suitcase. This was the easiest way to do it, even though anyone could tell me that Austin almost immediately messed it all up looking for a specific shirt he wanted to wear for that date.

I knew that was how it went. I could tell just by the way he packs when I refuse to do it for him. He just threw everything into the bag, not caring how it looked or if it was space efficient. I picked up another shirt that he threw towards me, noticing it wasn’t a cut off or a t shirt, not something he’d wear to perform in.

“Why are you taking a thermal shirt?” I ask, holding up the long sleeved shirt, the shirt that was only good for cold weather.

“I’m not,” he started, not letting me question him before he added to his statement, “you are.”

“Austin, you know I wo-” he cut me off, not wanting to hear the same excuses that he was used to.

“I know you won’t go on tour with me. It’s not my favorite thing at all, but I respect that. You’re taking the shirt though, because I know that you like to sleep in my shirts. And I know that you love long sleeved flannel shirts more than anything else.”

“Austin, it’s fine. I don’t need to take your shirt,” I said, not wanting to take the shirt from him, knowing it was one of his favorite that he took with him on any winter tour.

“I want you to take it, not because it’ll make you feel better, but because it’ll make me feel better. I want to know that you have something to sleep with every night, and it’ll just make me feel better, Dev. Alright?”

I nodded, leaning up to kiss him. before throwing that shirt behind me and continueing with the others that Austin was taking with him.

This was how we spent the night before every tour. We would pack Austin’s bag, then when we were done we’d either sleep, watch a movie, or, well, you know. Then in the morning, we’d wake up earlier than we would any other day, and watch TV while eating breakfast. We rarely talked in the morning, we were both thinking, not knowing what could be said to make this situation any different than it was.