All our lives

Chapter 9

The only thing he had managed to accomplish by having that dream was he hadn't cried like a twelve-year-old girl in front of thousands of people in Helsinki. He had done it in Paris. And in Lyon. A big change indeed!

The truth was he couldn't find any major differences between those two horrible universes into which he had slipped, once by accident and once because Richie had completely ignored his foolproof advice. If two days ago he had woken up in Helsinki, not in Paris, he wouldn't have noticed that the dream had had some effect. Richie was still dead, 'Saturday nights' was still a thing and he still needed to avoid Richie's songs. It wasn't so hard now as in this universe he hadn't done it a few times already and, the best thing, if a best thing existed, was that Dave was not mad at him and his band didn't look at him like he was insane. Well, not yet.

Despite all his efforts, he simply couldn't help himself when the crowd started its chanting. In Paris, he had tried to empty those words of any meaning. It didn't work as with or without one, the energy was undeniable staggering. You didn't need to understand the words or to know the story behind them to be affected by them. It was the kind of performance that transcended any language and culture barrier. A major step up though was he hadn't felt the need to puke his guts afterward, so Matt was not on his tail anymore.

For Lyon, he had sketched a different plan, but an interview he had had to give before the concert had foiled it. It was not the weirdest interview in history, but it had easily made it to a top three because some of the reporter's questions had gotten only a baffled face as a response from him. Thank God for his habit of wearing sunglasses even in dark hotel rooms. It had partially saved his ass this time. 'Cause what the hell was he supposed to say about the fact that they were still able and willing to roam the world tirelessly, day after day for more than a year? They weren't. In his world, they absolutely fucking weren't. They had slowed down considerably.

In this one, maybe in the last one too, they were moving from town to town, country to country, continent to continent like there was no tomorrow. And it was not the only thing that surprised him. This European leg, although different from the previous one, still looked absolutely disorganized, with cities chosen as if the only rule was to be as far as they could be one from another, and almost no rest days. They were zigzagging the map of Europe like they were running from a very determined sniper. From Lyon to Oslo and then to sunny and so far South Lisbon with only a one day pause. That was a logistical nightmare and he was almost sure that the single rest day was actually only a chance for the crew to put all the things in order, not at all a needed break for them as a band. It was like he hadn't learned anything from previous exhausting tours.

What was this Jon thinking? What was he doing? That, unfortunately, was not something he could find on Google. And not something that interested him too much. It wasn't like he would stay there forever. Sooner or later, he would find a way to go back and he didn't need to get to know this version of him. He didn't want to know this version of him who had had to face Richie's death for real. It was enough he was walking in his shoes now. He had mumbled something about Rolling Stones still going strong at their age because he had to give an answer, and whilst he had said that he had wondered if Mick Jagger was still alive or he had blundered big time.

Wanting to ask something about that painful ritual they were doing, the reporter accidentally had offered him the info about how it had started. He had stated that he preferred to do it and not to talk about it, which was total bullshit, but it had shut the man's mouth and had established the boundaries of that conversation. When the interview was finally over and he had remained alone in the room, he had opened YouTube and searched for that song.

According to the reporter, the fans had triggered that ritual by spontaneously starting to sing the song at the end of a concert. The first video he had stopped on started when only a small number of people were singing to a stage swarming with techs and roadies packing instruments and gear. Filmed from a higher point, next to the stage, the footage made it clear it hadn't been something meant to be big. In the chaos of exiting the venue, a few fans had decided to sing the song that was never written to be performed on stage, that much he could say for sure.