What Happens in Vancouver...

Chapter 7: Wild In The Streets

Sometimes this town ain't pretty
But you know it ain't so bad
Just like a girl who looks so happy
When inside she's so so sad
In here we got this code of honor
Nobody's going down

We were wild
Wild in the street

You couldn't manage to look at Jon in the eyes; neither did he.

The band was on the other side of the glass separating the booth where you had been not even 24 hours ago from the mixing table. Only Doc, an engineer and you were in the room. Right after you had read the paper, Richie had burst into the living room and you had shoved it in your pocket. Your brother's state dragged Doc's attention somewhere else in the apartment, as he had insisted on everyone to be able to record. Richie assured he was fine – even though he was the same colour as the porcelain sink – and all of you left together.

You don't know for how much time you were there, but at a moment Richie passed his head by the door: "Hey Doc, can we have a pause?"

The manager nodded.

"Not more than 10 minutes!"

Richie smiled, followed by the others out of the room – except Jon, still in the booth. All at once, like you were driven despite yourself, you got up from the couch and entered it, closing the door. Jon raised eyebrows as he saw you, but before saying anything, you tapped on the mic to see if it was still on, but apparently Doc couldn't hear you anymore.

"Jon, I think we need to talk."

He came to you, but didn't say anything.

"About this night."

He drew a breath: "Yeah, that was something, uh."

"Yeah..."

You couldn't stop thinking about what you remembered Jon had said last night, some things that had come back to you. It tightened your heart; so did the fact that he was drunk when he said it.

"You know Jon, I don't think it was... wise."

He blinked. "What?"

"We weren't in our normal state, I mean."

An unreadable expression passed on his face; you would have expected him to say you were right, or even, maybe, wrong – but he didn't say anything. Two minutes passed, the silence was interrupted by a little ring and Doc's distorted voice through the mic: "Children, class dismissed for today. We have tech problems, so unable to record anymore. But don't worry, nothing had been lost."

You turned your head to see the boys had come back into the room. Your brother passed his head by the door: "Hey, everything's alright?"

None of you answered, but it didn't prevent him to say: "I think it's party o'clock!"

-

"I think I'll... Oops."

Richie stumbled while getting up, David sorting loudly.

"Richie, I don't think you should-"

"Hey y/n, let's get fun okay..."

You gave up, knowing he wouldn't hear it. You watched your brother take three long minutes to manage to get up and disappear into the crowd of the bar.

Next to you, David's eyes got lost in the vague, leaving both Jon and you in a complete silence. Well, not to change; David and Richie were the one making the conversation till now, punctuated by Jon nodding to what they said an you humming from time to time. David didn't try to know further and Richie didn't ask why you looked upset, even though you suspected he noticed your humour. Anyway, he didn't link it with Jon's mutism and soon cocktails made him think about something else.

You glanced at Jon at your side and noticed that like you, he hadn't touched his drink.

You wanted to talk with him so bad.

But what to say?

You drew a breath, wanting to break the silence more than anything when David jumped:

"Wait... Where's Richie?"

"He went to grab a drink, David."

The keyboardist suddenly looked scared, which would have made you laugh in another situation. "But he's gone for a while now!"

You sighed: "I don' know Dave... Certainly further on the dancefloor, sucking a girl's fa-"

"Hum, excuse me."

The three of you turned to a barman, now in front of your table. His face was between amusement and worry.

"I think your friend is going to have problems. He's outside, and... Well, you should go there."

You rushed out and stopped in your tracks; Richie was further in the middle of the street, his shirt twisted in his hand like a whip, moving it in the air like he was chasing mosquitos. He was shouting nonsense at people passing, a bottle of vodka half-empty in his other hand.

"Richie!"

When he saw you, his face passed by surprise, joy, sadness and anger at a worrying speed and he shouted: "We're surrounded!"

You walked to him, the two others too but they stayed slightly in retreat. Your brother caught your wrist, brought you close to his face and repeated in a whisper: "y/n, we're surrounded."

His breath stank alcohol and you couldn't repress a grimace, nearly feeling the percentage of alcohol in your body raise by inhaling it only.

"Richie, what the-"

"Look at those people, y/n!" He pointed at a passing couple. "You'll never guess..."

He planted his brown worried eyes in yours: "You'll never guess where they come from..."

You blinked, and didn't notice Jon and David coming closer, curious.

"They're Canadians."

Three seconds passed.

"What?"

"Yes! y/n, for god's sake, they're Canadians!" He thew his shirt towards the spot the couple had occupied thirty seconds earlier.

"Of course they're Canadians, Richie, we're in-"

He let go of you and put his hand at the side of his mouth like an amplifier and shouted, his voice resonating into the quite empty street: "YOU WILL NEVER MANAGE TO ESTABLISH YOURSELVES IN OUR COUNTRY TO RAPE OUR HOUSES AND BURN OUR WIVES! GO HOME-"

Your eyes widened and you jumped to clamp your hand on his mouth but he moved fast to his left and grabbed Jon by the collar, letting the bottle of vodka fall on the concrete and explode, splashing the end of your pants: "Man, they are going to steal our album, why did we come here? God, why?" He started to shake Jon so hard he turned a bit too white, the contain of his stomach not quite supporting the movements. You grabbed your brother by one of his pants' loop and pulled, but what made him stop by dragging his attention away was the noise of a car's door clapping.

You turned slowly and sighed; a policeman was walking towards the lot of you, gauging your forms. His eyes passed by the broken bottle of vodka, the puddle David was standing in, the hem of your pants, and a dishevelled, eyes wide opened like an owl and shirtless Richie still holding Jon by the collar, this one a hand on his mouth, the other on his stomach and eyes closed to concentrate on not vomiting on his friend.

"I see we have a lot of fun?"

"Sir, I'm sorry, my brother drank a bit too much-"

"I see that. What I see too is that several homes called for disturbance. Plus, you cannot stand here."

He pointed at a board you hadn't seen before; in the heat of the action, you had moved a bit further in the street and were actually standing close to road works, place you weren't supposed to be on.

"So, a little tour at the station is necessary, I think?"

You exchanged a look with David. You didn't see what you could say; the scene was talking for itself, plus even though you were okay right now, you're sure you had a little too much of alcohol in your blood to try to argue.