Something More | Randy

chapter fourteen | paris

The irony of touching down in the City of Love the day after I'd lost faith in the concept altogether was not lost on me. I'd always adored France, the atmosphere, the language, the romance of it all. Yet today, as I walked the streets of Paris with my bandmates, I wasn't high on life celebrating the first leg of our biggest ever tour, and the many famous landmarks we came across all failed to enamour me. No, today Paris was a miserable place. The streets were grimy, the air stunk of cigarettes, and Rye had a girlfriend. 

Admittedly, that last thing may have been more responsible for my dark mood than any of the others. Or entirely responsible. Rye had a girlfriend. I don't know why his acknowledgement of a fact that had been apparent for a while made it feel more final and more damning to me, but somehow it did. Whatever  that bubble of weirdness that was floating between us was, even though we had left it unexplored, it had always been there, waiting on the horizon. Now I felt like it had been shot down, and with it my last chance of ever calling him mine. 

Our sightseeing ventures were short lived, Darren our tour manager was clearly disappointed in our collective disinterest, but he put it down to nerves.  

"Don't worry lads, it's just like any other show," he advised us warmly, "they'll just be shouting"- he affected an exaggerated French accent- "Rrroad-treep, Rrroad-treep!"  That even got a dry laugh out of me. 

"Thanks, Daz," we all muttered. 

Rye and I were still not talking, him still holding a grudge against me for snapping at him in rehearsals, and me not willing to make up with him because he'd taken a sledge hammer to my heart with the whole 'official girlfriend' incident. The tension became so rife that Mikey and Brooklyn actually teamed up in a conspiracy to try and get us to mend fences- at least for the sake of the group dynamic- but I was adamant that I wouldn't budge before he did. 

"Come on, Andy" Brooklyn begged me once we were sitting and eating lunch alone in the gods at the venue. "You can't go on like this. He's your best bud."

I took an angry bite of my croissant. "I thought you of all people would understand why I need to hold my ground here, Brooklyn." I sassed.

"Well, yeah mate... but this has gotten out of hand now, don't you think? It's not good for the band." Brooklyn pointed out, sending guilt shooting through me. 

"I'm only dealing with this for the band!" I countered, "If it wasn't for this bloody band he'd have been out of my life ages ago and I'd probably be better off for it!"

"Good to know." My heart sank. I hadn't heard him come in, but when I spun around there he was, standing a few rows behind, towering above me with a glare that cut me to the core. Mikey and Jack were a few steps behind, exchanging worried looks. 

"Rye," I addressed him as calmly as I could, although I could already feel the panic setting in, "I only meant-"

"I think it was pretty fucking clear what you said, Andy." Rye fumed. Behind him, Mikey was somewhere between sitting and standing, looking torn as to whether he should intervene or not. 

"You know what?" I said, taking a stand, "I meant exactly what I said. If our careers didn't depend on it, I wouldn't put up with half the shit you do to mess with my head."

Rye scoffed at me. "How am I responsible for your fucked up head?" 

"Right, we're going there are we?" I glowered at him. How fucking dare he be angry with me, when I spent every waking moment picking up the pieces of myself that he scattered every time he touched me, or teased me or pretended I meant something to him when he was bored. How dare he use me like that then call me crazy?