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They're staring at me, hesitation and worry in their gazes.
I point at them just as Flynn walks in the room. "Look at me like that again and I'll lay you on your asses."
I walk past them, opening the door so roughly it slams against the wall. Brandy is on the other side with a headset on, and she jumps about a foot in the air from the noise. She sees me, her face softening. She's about to take a step toward me, and I stop in place.
She frowns. Stops. Then starts walking again. "You okay? You don't look good."
"You're fired."
Her eyes widen, shock slackening her jaw. "W-what?"
"I want you off the set, Brandy. Go find someone that wants you."
"Are you… are you breaking up with me?" She places her hand on her chest, her cleavage heaving with emotion.
I smile, sickness filling me, cooling my bones. Cooling my heart.
I feel dead inside.
"We were never together, Brandy. You were just a pussy to slide into. I don't love you. I've never loved you."
For the first time since I met her, years ago, tears spring to her eyes. They tumble down her cheeks, and I watch as she holds herself back from reaching out to me. She wants to beg; she wants to plead. I watch her patience thin.
It's so fucking thin.
"I don't love you, Brandy. I've only loved one girl in my entire life, and you aren't her. You could never be her." With that, I walk away from her crumbling form, not even waiting for my bandmates before I walk onto the stage.
The crowd goes wild. I don't give them my usual smile, my usual playful demeanor. I grab my guitar, making sure it's tuned, keeping my face on the smooth, black wood.
I pull out my pick, flicking it against my fingers. Wanting to throw it, wanting to burn it. Wanting to fucking cry on it.
I can hear the guys walk out behind me. I can feel their heavy, solemn footsteps. The crowd even quiets down, still cheering, but not nearly as excited as they were when I walked on the stage. Bringing my hand up, I run my fingers through my hair.
I feel fucking wild right now.
My blood pumps extra hard. I feel crazy. Like everything in me is colliding at once. Like whatever has been laying low, is rising from the ashes, ready to break free.
My heart and soul have fucking had enough.
Flynn starts the drums, and my fingers poise to start the notes. I know exactly what song he’s starting with.
The tips of my fingers are shaky, my body running hot.
It all feels fucking wrong.
Why am I doing this? Why am I here when my heart isn't? Why am I doing something I no longer love? Music is a part of me, it's always been a fucking part of me. But if my soul is lost, am I really even here?
What's the meaning of it all, at the end of the day? Is there even a point of living if you're missing half of yourself?
My breathing picks up, and the moment comes when I'm supposed to start strumming my first note.
I don't play.
I stand there, and I can feel the guys around me grow irritated, worried. Waiting for me. Lonnie starts his notes, trying to fill in for me, and then Clyde starts his.
Waiting for me.
Fuck this shit.
