(Mike’s POV)


My heart broke as I watched Vic perform “I’m Low On Gas And You Need A Jacket” acoustically. Tony, Jaime, and I all stood side stage as he sang with the crowd; it was amazing, but it also killed me inside. I knew every single thought that was racing through my brother’s head.


About half way through the song, I snuck out the side of the venue for a smoke. My hands were shaking with anxiety, and this was the only thing that would calm me. I lit the cigarette, placing it loosely in between my cracked lips. I slumped against the side of the building, closing my eyes as I filled my lungs with the toxic smoke.


“Aren’t you supposed to be on stage?” I peeled my eyes open to see a pale and dark haired girl lighting a cigarette next to me. I may or may not have glared at her; I wanted to be alone.


“Aren’t you supposed to be in the crowd?” I countered. She shrugged her shoulders.


“That song stresses me out. Needed a smoke,” she sighed, the smoke skillfully exiting her mouth in a thin wisp. I was surprised by her nonchalance; normally, girls would be tripping if they saw me like this, but she was casual and calm.


I didn’t say anything else. I closed my eyes again and let the smoke burn in my chest. I knew I only had about thirty more seconds of relaxation before I was needed back on stage.


“What’s your name?” I asked.


“Spencer,” she said. I whipped open my eyes, staring at her in shock. What are the fucking odds, I thought to myself, but I might have accidentally muttered it out loud, too. She looked taken aback, and I knew I probably looked insane. Although she looked completely different, the name brought back memories, memories that stabbed through my chest. I almost forgot to exhale the smoke that was still lingering in my lungs. “Uh? Are you okay…” she furrowed her eyebrows at me.


I shook my head, coughing out the smoke. I put out my cigarette against the side of the building, letting it drop to the floor. “I have to go,” I said hastily, running back inside of the venue. Good timing, too; Vic had just finished the song.


Tears were visible in his eyes, and I immediately felt guilty for sneaking out for a quick smoke. My brother was more important than a cigarette, and I should have been there for him. I knew how emotional he got during certain songs.


And, certainly, I should not have asked for the name of that girl. I broke my number one rule: don’t ask for the girl’s name. Sure, I was bound to run into a girl whose name was Spencer eventually, but I wasn’t prepared for that. The mere mention of that name sent tremors through my body. I choked back sobs as I ran on stage.


“You okay, dude?” Tony gripped my shoulder before I made it to my drum set, and I nodded, shrugging him off lightly.


I liked that I was set up back here. I was the farthest back on the stage, and the fans weren’t able to see me too clearly. I could hide behind the drum set. As we played a few more songs, I banged on the drums with as much energy and passion as possible, letting everything out. Tears flowed freely from my eyes as I slammed my drumsticks against the hollow cylinders. To the crowd, this was my norm. I have always been a crazy person on the drums, which made it easy to disguise my feelings.


Except the loudness of the drum set was almost too much, these days. Sometimes, they sounded awfully like a gunshot. I clenched my eyes closed as I played, hoping to suffocate the memory that was forcing its way into my brain, but to no avail.


The last door was locked. I knew she was behind that door, and I was afraid of what it would be like inside. Without another thought, I rammed my shoulder into the door. Vic hissed at me and tensed up, but I demanded him to help me. There was no turning back now. We had no idea what condition Spencer was in, so every second counted.


Finally, the door swung open, and we stumbled in. There she was. Helpless, broken, and terrified. My heart broke for her, but my heart also broke for Vic. I knew how Vic felt about her, and seeing her like this must have been tormenting for him. I stood guard by the door, just in case, as he tried to calm her down.


“Say one fucking word and your brains get painted on the wall,” I froze when a man emerged from nowhere, threatening me with a gun. Well, so much for being a look out; there wasn’t much I could do with a gun barrel attached to my head. He roughly dragged me to the side. I wanted to fight back, but I could tell that this guy was not bluffing.


I heard Vic faintly tell Spencer that he was going to get her out of here, but I couldn’t be sure because all I could hear was the sound of my heart beating out of my chest and sweat dripping from my forehead.


“Are you, now?” I saw another man appear, and he had a gun behind his back. I wanted to warn Vic, but I couldn’t.


“Yes, we are,” I could hear Vic more clearly now. Oh, God, no, Vic. Don’t say that! Vic was being brave, but little did he know that the man had a gun. Oh, Vic…


“Whatever you say,” the man said lazily, showing his gun. I could almost hear Vic’s heart stop.


I was roughly pushed into the doorway, the gun barrel still in contact with my skull. “Step away from the girl, and nobody gets hurt, okay?” the guy threatening my life snarled. I knew in that moment that something terrible was going to happen. I didn’t want to die, but I didn’t want to see Spencer or Vic hurt, either. Before anyone could say anything else, Spencer jumped away from Vic.


“That’s a good girl,” the men snickered, and I felt sick to my stomach.


Pain and confusion overwhelmed Vic’s face. His hands were shaking with anxiousness; ever since his ordeal with Drew Sanders, closed, rusty rooms like this have not been appealing to his senses, and I didn’t blame him.


“Spencer,” he breathed. I could almost see his pulse; I could practically feel it myself.


Spencer’s eyes locked with mine. Desperation, sadness, and determination stretched across her features. What was she about to do?


“Sorry,” she mouthed to Vic. Sorry? What was—


She lunged at the men. I felt the pressure on my head subside, and without a second thought I swung around, elbowed him in the face, snatched the gun, and shot him in the hip. I then shot the other man in the stomach. Both of them were immobile, and I felt rather proud of myself for my handiwork.


The gun smoked and the three gunshots lingered in the air.


Wait. Three?


That’s when I heard the scream. A scream I wished that I never had to hear again. A bloodcurdling, spine shilling, absolutely fucking horrific scream. I turned abruptly, collapsing to my knees immediately.


Blood. Blood everywhere.


Vic hovered over the mess on the floor, his hands applying pressure to her head.


Spencer’s head.


“NO! NO! NO!” he screamed. His hands were covered in blood, and his face was covered in tears. I just stared. My brother hovered over her body in agony. “No!” he cried. He looked up at me, his voice broken and his features twisted.



“Mikey, please help,” he said quietly.


I numbly crawled to his side. I didn’t want to see the mess on the floor, but it was pretty hard to ignore. Blood… just so much blood… Vic’s hand was still pressed against her forehead while his other supported the back of her head, but her body was limp and unmoving. I shook my head, reaching over for Vic’s hands. “No, no!” Vic yelled stubbornly, but I forced him to let go of her head. I held his shaking hands in mine while he leaned over her dead body. “No,” he moaned into her neck. I lightly picked up her wrist, feeling for a pulse that I knew wasn’t there.


“No,” he moaned again. She was a bloody mess, and now so was Vic. I couldn’t see him like this. The situation was all too familiar—him being covered in blood—but, this time, it was someone else’s blood, and not his own. I carefully lifted him up from her, and he submitted into my arms. I held him tightly as he continued to cry and scream in anguish. I forced him to look away from her body. I didn’t want this to be the way he remembered her.


But I personally couldn’t force myself to look away. Sirens blasted nearby, and soon enough paramedics and police officers were racing in. I watched everything: the paramedics checking for her pulse, the police officers arresting the two wounded men, the paramedics shaking their heads and wiping their foreheads, the police slipping her into a black bag, forensic analysts taping up and preserving the scene…


All the while I remained on the ground with Vic, not being able to move, not being able to hear when the officers asked us to get up, not being able to feel, not being able to think...


The entire time, I continued to hold my brother, rocking him back and forth as he screamed curses into my chest, while one feeling overwhelmed the million other feelings I felt inside: Guilt.

I screamed in anguish, bringing myself back to reality. I was hardly paying attention to what I was doing, but I knew the fans didn’t notice. I was sure Vic was going to ask me about it later.


I stopped playing on cue as the final song ended. Drumming everything out was the only way I could get my feelings out, and I was glad I could at least not fuck that up. The beats just came naturally, so I didn’t have to think about it too much.


My body sweaty and my fingers surely broken, I jogged off stage, throwing on a shirt and wiping my face with a towel.


“Let me see,” I heard Vic, and he walked up to me, holding out his hand, palm up. I placed my crooked fingers on his hand as he toyed them carefully with his own, his eyebrows furrowed. The thing about Vic was that he always cared for others before himself. “You really did a number on them, this time,” he said lowly. “You were thinking too much again, weren’t you?” he asked, pain striking his face. He knew what I had been thinking about. What else would it be? He frowned slightly and sniffed a little as he taped my fingers.


“Thanks,” I murmured. Vic silently patted my back as we headed outside to talk to fans before security kicked them all out.


Talking with fans was nice, and I liked hanging out with them like real people. I never put myself above them because I was in a band; I was just a regular dude just like them.


I watched Vic as he hung out with the fans, imagining what he was thinking right now. He said it in an interview once, and I knew it was beyond genuine.


I wished we could hang out with the fans longer. I would stay out there and talk with them forever if I could. It was a nice distraction, and I genuinely cared for them. People would tell me their problems and comment how we helped them get through those problems, and it always warmed my heart to hear that our music saved someone. Not only that, though, but it was also good just to hang out with people who were just like me. We all had shit behind us, sharing a common bond through music.


Vic was always saying things like that; he was a lot more sentimental than me. I loved our fans, but Vic really loved them. Like, the band and the fans were literally the only things he talked about. All he did was write, listen, and talk about the music. I didn’t mind, though. I would never complain. This was Vic, and I owed everything to him. Mikey, please help… I would never be able to get that moment out of my head. I wished I could help…


Security were dicks, as usual, and it was time to head back to the bus. Vic never really partied anymore, but I lived for the after parties. Vic lived for the music and the fans, while I lived for the music, the fans, but mostly the alcohol. And the sex.


The hard liquor burned my throat but in the best way. My mind felt like jelly, but my pants felt like the complete opposite. I knew the guys would get annoyed when I fucked a girl in the bus, but where else was I supposed to go?


“Fuck, Mike,” the blond, nameless chick rolled her hips against mine one last time, her breath hot on my neck. She collapsed onto my sweating body, and I wrapped my arms around her. She kissed my collar bone.


“Thanks, sweetheart,” I winked, and then I passed out from drunkenness and exhaustion.


When I woke up, I was relieved to see that she had let herself out. Most girls knew to do that; apparently, I had a “reputation”. I groggily rolled out of my bunk, stumbling my way over to the main longue area of the bus in only boxers. I needed to smoke badly.


I slumped against the bus, inhaling the wonderful poison. The smoke danced in my throat and chest before it twirled out of my mouth in controlled patterns.


“Hey,” I looked to my left to see Vic slumped next to me.


“Sup,” I said.


“Can I have one?” Vic asked. I raised my eyebrow at him.


“Have what?”


“A cigarette, you fuck,” he said, annoyance clear on his face.


“You don’t smoke, Vic,” I said seriously.


“I do now. Give me one, please,” he said, holding his palm out.


“Don’t get addicted,” I warned, feeling like the big brother in the relationship.


He rolled his eyes. “I’m not. It’s just getting close,” he said lowly. I didn’t ask what he meant because I already knew. Everything was a hundred percent harder when October neared.


“I miss her,” he said after exhaling. His voice cracked.


I frowned, swallowing the lump in my throat. “She’s right here, Vic,” I reminded him. Vic smiled at the empty space next to him. I knew I was right. I knew she was sitting close next to him, sad to see him so sad and mad to see him smoking, but with him nonetheless. Her head was probably on his shoulder right now.


“I know,” he said, continuing to stare at the empty space. “I miss you,” he whispered into the air.


I closed my eyes, resting my head back as I took another lengthy drag.


Seeing Vic like this was almost unbearable. I could barely cope myself, but I knew his pain was a million times worse, especially in this season. God damn the anniversary of the event that haunted us. God damn the fucking past.

Notes

I've never done a Mike POV before; I hope you liked it.
The next chapter is going to be Tony's POV, and then the one after that will be Jaime's POV. I decided to do all of their POV's to kick the story off just so we can see how they all are now, but the rest of the story will probably be Vic's POV

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