The Missing Pieces

Turn of Events

*Avi's POV*

Kirstie sat next to me on the couch while Mitch was playing with his new voice app.

We are openly dating now, and apparently the whole group really ships us.

It's been around four months since the car accident, and so much has happened since then.

We've been nominated for a Grammy, sang for Tom Hanks, met The President and First Lady and so much more.

"Hey, guys." Our tour manager, which is my sister, came up to us. "We're stuck in really bad traffic, so why don't you guys start rehearsing so you can rest when we get to the hotel."

Our last show in America is tomorrow, and then we're going to Europe. Might as well make the best of it.

Kirstie holds her phone up. "Selfie!" She says and snaps a photo.

"I wasn't ready." I whine and she shrugs. "You can be my #uff then."

I glare at her and she taps my nose. "You love me."

"I know, I know." I sigh.

Kevin walks in. "Let's practice a little bit. What song do we need to practice?"

"Problem." We say in unison. Mitch even said it on his phone.

Problem is kind of a hard one and we don't really practice it a lot.

"Okay," Kevin says. We all figure out our pitches.

Kevin counts us off. We start singing. Something's a little off.

*Mitch's POV*

"I want y-you-ou-ou." I slur my words. I shake my head and just keep going, thinking I'm just not warmed up.

I sing the backups fine, as there are no pronounced words. It's the rapping part that throws me off.

"Smart money b-bett-in'-" I stop.

I can't do it.

It's getting worse.

Everyone stops. "It's okay, Mitch." Scott says.

I shake my head. No. I can't do it.

"Don't ever say can't, Mitch. You already defied the odds by surviving."

What's the point if I can't sing?

I run into the back room and close the door.

I take my phone and delete the stupid speaking app.

I'll never have a real voice again.

I knew it would affect my singing.

I hear quiet conversation and put my head in my hands.

I want to cry but nothing comes out.

My career, hell, my life is ruined. I can't sing.

I can't sing.

Those three words run through my mind over and over.

I.

Can't.

Sing.

Scott comes in the room and sits beside me.

"Hey..." He says quietly.

I messed up, Scott. It's getting worse. I put my head in my hands.

"It's okay, Mitch. We're gonna get you in some speech therapy."