Who Killed Kyle Simmons? (Bastille)

Chapter Six

Chapter six

~ 11 days before the murder ~

Kyle

"I can't do this anymore, no one can. Why can't you see that?"

"Of course I can see that. We're all fine, you can't leave, it would fall apart!"

"Well maybe it should! We've been doing this for too long Dan. If something doesn't happen, I'm leaving." I add helplessly, arms outstretched pleadingly. He wouldn't listen, he couldn't understand, probably because this was his dream more than anyone else's.

I looked down at Dan, who, at 6ft 1 was only shorter by two inches, had clenched his jaw in frustration. His hands were balled up into fists, mirroring how tense I felt.

I'd been calm, but I could feel the anger slowly rising, sizzling up inside of me as he refused to let the argument finish.

"You know how important this is! To me, to all of us, I won't let you leave."

The truth was he couldn't. As much as he refused to admit it, Dan needed all of us, and if I left, the others might too. But I wasn't leaving, he'd just made an assumption that I was quitting. No doubt he could make it on his own anyway, Dan already wrote and created 98% of our songs anyway. But he couldn't get on stage by himself, he would flat out refuse.

The truth was, we were all tired and tension was high, tolerance was low. It was mainly directed at Dan. He didn't want to stop, and he dragged us down too.

"The only person this whole romp is important to, is you. Do you even care about the rest of us? No, of course you don't. You're too busy drowning in the fame, money and attention!"

He was silent. His eyes burning hatred directed at me.

"Leave."

"What?"

"Go. Get out, leave like you've always wanted. Someone will replace you, that's normally what happens." He added, a bitter time to his normally calm voice.

"Dan, I-"

"Don't try coming back."

I felt my shoulders slump as Dan slammed the door millimetres in front of my face. He was such a jerk, overreacting like that.

He'd always been a control freak. But I won't take back a thing I've said, it's all true, the fame's going to his head. Not in the self important way, but in the way that he wants to do everything himself, doesn't want to let anyone down, but really, he's just making everything worse.

It only proved that we couldn't do this anymore.

My sneakers squeaked as I trudged along the corridor away from Dans flat. Sooner or later he'd realise that it was too hard, that they couldn't go on like this forever.

The lift was silent except from giving out a strange whirring groan every few seconds.

Someone tapped me on the shoulder, I turned to see one of my fellow band mates; Woody.

"What's up mate?"

"... Nothing. I don't, ...Dan and I had an argument."

I was shit at keeping things to myself.

Woody pulled a face expecting me to spill the beans on our fight. His short stocky frame the opposite to my own skinny one. It was harder to spot, but he was just as exhausted as the rest of us.

"I can't do this anymore."

"The band?"

Woody was shorter than Dan, way shorter, at only 5ft 7.

"Something like that. He- he chucked me out."

An expression crossed Woody's face, it looked like Dan was in for a lot of shit later. Well, more than he usually got anyway.

"I'll talk to him, don't worry he can't chuck you-"

"No, the thing is, I don't even know if I want to do the band anymore."

Woody was silent at this. I'd just expressed what we'd all been thinking. He had a thoughtful look on his face, before looking back up at me.

"Every one of us who's part of this mental roller coaster is gonna feel like that at some point. We all need a break, that's what I think anyway."

He patted my shoulder comfortingly. For the past few seconds our conversation had lasted, he'd no doubt noticed me stroking the corner of my moustache, a nervous trait I'd picked up.

"Dan didn't mean what he said. If he meant anything he said, do you think we'd be here now?"

I shook my head.

"You know what he's like, give it a few days, everything will of straightened out by then."

I nodded. Dan had always said things before thinking about them, this would blow over in a few days.

I nodded as the lift doors pinged open.

Hopping out I turned. Woody gave me a nod from the lift, "I'll talk to that stupid bastard."

He'd sort it out, he always did.

***********

A/N

If you guys were confused, this is from Kyle's POV :)

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