Rewrite Your Happiness (A Ryan Ross Fanfiction)

This Impossible Year

May 25th, 2009
14:40

??? POV

I took in a deep breath as I woke up and looked around. Where was I? Oh right, I was on a bus going out to meet up with my good friend, Ryan Seaman. He and I had music in the works and we thought we'd start out small. When I got word that there would be tryouts for a small venue showcase in Las Vegas a week or two from now, we thought we'd test our luck. And what better place to do that than the mother of all gambling cities.

I rubbed my eyes. I must've had bad dream material for making me feel so winded. I couldn't remember the dream much, other than a lady with platinum hair telling me to "help him," whoever that may be. Either way, it woke me suddenly and was making me feel a need to stretch out of the small space.

With only 20 minutes left to go, decided I'd gander at the widespread of desert around us. It was beautifully inspiring and made me long to be back home in Utah with the rest of the Weekes family. With a beautiful wife and our second child on its way, I really was risking a buck for one show. I turned around to notice a frail young man at the back of the bus, scribbling away in his notebook. He looked damn near exhausted and very agitated. I could've sworn he was on drugs from how twitchy he was and the red veins of his bloodshot eyes laced around his irises. I was surprised I didn't see him the entire ride here. He looked up and notice my glance before I turned back around. Fuck. That look was so depraved of life it was nerve wracking. I felt a shiver run down my spine. Thank God I didn't end up like that when I was out there.

The bus stopped and I got off to snatch my bass guitar and keyboard from the underside. A few others made their way toward their destination with just a brief case or a back pack. I thought them lucky, not having to carry much when I carried all I could handle every trip. But then again, it was always my choice to overpack for an audition just so I wouldn't be surprised.

As I hoisted my possessions into a proper position to carry into Sin City, I saw the gaunt young man from earlier stumble off the bus. I was able to get a better look at him. His clothes were torn, shoes worn through, and his hair was half matted into a small beard. All he had on him was the notebook from earlier as he began to make his way toward his destination. His eyes lit up for a mere moment as he surveyed the faint lights the city displayed in the sunny midday. Not a second later, he crumbled to the ground and hit his head hard. Pages of his notebook were crunched or scattered in the dirt. I was shocked as the bus rolled away, kicking up dust while the last of passengers gave him a sorry glance. Did they not just see him fall?

Help him.

I quickly released the instruments from my grip and rushed over to the man. I pulled a water bottle from my backpack and poured it over his face and in his mouth. Come on, wake up. The man coughed dryly as I sat him up on my knee. The side of his face he landed on was bleeding steadily from the impact. His eyes were not focused on me. Instead, his eyes were set the city, just a 10 minute walk away. "H—ho-ome...I a-am h-ome." He stuttered as his cracked lips formed into a smile. I was starting to panic as he started coughing dryly.

"Ah, yeah. You made it home." I nodded in an encouraging manner as I applied pressure to the wound on his head. With my other hand, I pulled out my cell phone. "Just hang in there, my man. I'm going to call—dude?" I looked down to see he had passed out completely. I checked his pulse. It was barely there, and the heat wasn't really helping the situation. I started dialing 991. "Ah, shit, shit, shit. Stay calm, Dallon." I said reassuring myself as the line on the other side started ringing. I looked down at the man, smile fading from his inert face. "Don't worry, dude. I'm getting help right now. Help is on its way. Just don't go dying on me."

———

Elise's POV

May 25th, 2009
15:30