HAYLEY'S POV:
Once the driver told us we reached Franklin, there was a momentary loss of all other goals but one: take Jeremy back. A huge part of me was incredibly ready to welcome him into the band with open arms. The band needed him. There was something so uncannily perfect about his bass skills, and without him, Paramore would be nothing but three pieces of lost friends. John, our current bassist, was surprisingly understanding of the whole situation, agreeing to leave the band without any complications. I wasn't sure if the "thank yous" I gave him would suffice--but I was pretty sure the message came through.
We arrived in Franklin in the early morning, (3 AM, to be exact) and into my house I went. The rest of the guys got their things unloaded and unpacked as well. Apparently my early-morning energy was too much for Jeremy to take (he answered with an understandably groggy voice as I phoned him at 3 AM to meet up), and he refused to meet us until the sun had risen and the morning was actually present. I couldn't help but agree to his request, he must have been tired, and I would not do anything to sabotage the already welcoming attitude that he was displaying at the present. He was willing to talk, and that was enough for me. Whichever time he preferred to do so was his choice, not mine.
To kill time, I headed up to my bedroom and laid against the bed that was actually mine. It was so much more comfortable than a bunk, less constrained, and so much softer. The distinct smell of laundry detergent lingered on my bedsheets. With the smell and the bed, it was perfectly easy to fall asleep.
My alarm clock went off at exactly 11:30 AM. It was almost comical how quickly my mood shifted from energetic to lazy in just a few hours. The bed and the complete comfort that engulfed me was so utterly perfect and comfortable that I almost refused to get out of bed. But knowing that Jeremy would be up and ready had snapped everything back into perspective with a burst of intuition.
I got ready, preparing finger food downstairs. The first to arrive was Josh, then Zac shortly after. Jeremy didn't show up until thirty minutes later, with what I assumed was shyness and regret. I didn't even bother asking him why he was late, or questioning him--this was too much a good opportunity to ruin by being a perfectionist and too eager. When he arrived, however, standing there in my front porch steps, I was almost surprised to see how little his face had changed. Five months was a lot of time, and I hadn't realized how little I remembered his face until now. Sure, a slight glimpse was present in my brain, a faded remembrance of his brotherly face, but I wasn't expecting it to be so precise a memory. He looked exactly as I remembered as he stood there on my front porch, one hand plastered to the back of his neck sheepishly, cracking a half-hearted smile as I welcomed him in. He entered with his face flushed in a deep-set blush, and for a long minute there was not one word uttered from any of us.
It was Zac (always helpful and always there to break the ice) who spoke up first. "Jeremy!" He exclaimed, and although it was a simple enunciation of his name, it was spoken with such excitement and welcome that I'm sure it didn't take much for him to get the message: he was welcome here. Only moments after that did I release a laugh of relief, for I didn't really know how else to react, and wrapped my arms around his neck. Josh joined in by snaking a hand around my waist and creating a group hug that lasted for a good, long minute.
We all finally settled on the couch, and I insisted Jeremy help himself to the sandwiches that I made in the kitchen, but he had something else to say. No matter how hard he tried hiding his words in his sleeve, it was an attempt that I couldn't overlook, a too-obvious endeavor to hide something that I became suspicious of. He was going to say something. I expected it.
They were tears of joy, of course, but I never expected them.
These tears came after the heart gripping apology speech that he announced to us--they were unneccessary tears, tears that made me feel weak inside but also let the confined stress pour out unto them all. I never figured that I'd cry after an apology to the band, but only now did I figure how much Jeremy meant to me, how much of a friendship I treasured with him, how much the band needed him. It was so overwhelming that the only reaction I could give off were tears.
But these tears were those of joy--nothing less. I managed to smile after Josh had uttered an expected "aww" and took hold of me, pulling me close to his chest. Jeremy laughed at me, but a laugh of pure amusement, no teasing, no hint of bullying in them. It was a laugh that was content, and happy, and I shrugged out of Josh's hug to go put myself into Jeremy's arms. He was like a brother, and he was back, and for once in my life it seemed as if everything (and I mean everything) was falling back into place.
A few years later..
"I messed up on...freaking Hallelujah," Josh mumbled as we all hung out backstage after our Final Riot! Chicago show. 'Hallelujah' was a song that we wrote, that made it into our sophomore album, Riot! With that album came a fanbase that was so supportive and so perfectly amazing that even I couldn't explain how incredibly happy I was to have them. It was a rush--Paramore started out as a small town band with big dreams, and now, as each day passed, we were living that dream. We had an album on the verge of going platinum and had made so many friends along the way.
And tonight's show was something special. The crowd outside were still exclaiming how much they loved us--I could hear the muffled sound of their cheers as we stood there backstage. Those fans I was incredibly thankful for. Paramore was just blessed, suffice it is to say. And this success was something so perfect and unexpected that I could have sworn to anyone I was dreaming. But no, I wasn't waking up anytime soon, although I did have to pinch myself every once in a while to remind me that I was not in a dream.
We got back to the bus, Zac and Jeremy being their usual crazy selves and heading over to the back for yet another game of Guitar Hero, undoubtedly.
But I was beat. I would be lying if I said I wasn't, and although the kitchen seemed a perfectly welcoming escape and a cup of tea was something I craved to have running down my throat, I decided I'd go for something more easily accessible--Josh's bunk.
I climbed into the world of his placid, sweet smelling bunk and laid my head against his pillows. The world was perfectly still in the moment that I closed my eyes and began drifting off into the dark world of sleep--until I heard someone push the curtain of the bunk to the side. No matter how much I tried to feign sleep--I could still feel the person's eyes boring deep holes into my face.
I never did like the feeling of paranoia--the feeling that someone was watching you. I snapped my eyes open and came face to face with Josh.
"I do believe this is my bunk," he whispered against my face. There was a sarcastic intonation to his voice that was impossible to overlook. He chuckled softly to himself and I simply moved over absently, making room for him to climb in. And that he did, laying in his bunk with me and wrapping both hands around my tiny frame.
And I felt secure.
He was just so comforting. Especially after live shows. This is exactly what I wanted right now. He kissed my forehead. "Don't do that," I mumbled, my eyes closed.
"Why not?" He whispered.
"My hair. It's sweaty and gross."
"It is not sweaty and gross," Josh replied.
"Yeah it is, and I don't want to contaminate your mouth with it," I giggled.
Josh laughed and pulled my body to him. He kissed my nose gently, and planted another one on my lips. "Mmm.." I whispered. I opened my eyes and looked up at him. "I'm tired."
"I know, so am I," he said with a groan.
"But I'm like, about to pass out. That's how tired I am."
"I understand. I feel the same."
I smiled back and leaned to kiss him. It was another soft kiss, slow and deep, and it was nothing short of perfect. Once it was over, I swung my legs over his body and pulled myself out of the bunk, walking over to go get my pajamas.
"I'll be bach," I replied with my best Arnold Shwarzenegger impression.
And I kept my promise, climbing back into the bunk with Josh, sharing our little intimate moment together.
"You comfortable?" He asked me, pulling the blankets over us.
The bus's heaters were now officially turned off, and it was getting extremely cold extremely fast. The windows were fogging up, and the lights were low, except for the dim glow that came from the kitchen's microwave. It was still running, and someone was making some late night Hot Pocket. The gentle hum of the microwave was the only sound to be heard inside the bus.
I nodded and snuggled into his chest, like I usually did. "I am now."
Josh laughed and shook his head. "I love you, Spongebob."
I smiled and looked up at him. "You need a nickname now," I whispered. "What about Josh-Kosh? Like Osh-Kosh?"
Josh's eyebrow rose. "Okay..." I began. "Maybe not."
"Yeah.." Josh replied. "I can't think of one, since I'm not a nickname generator."
I continued to smile up at him. "Alright. Enough nicknames. How do you think we did tonight? At the show?"
"We did...well..." There was a hesitance in his stance, a look of doubt in his face that worried me a little. That is, until a hint of a smile showed up, and it wasn't long before a full smile crept in and lit up his face. "You know we did amazing. If I could only pronounce that huge Marry Poppins word without getting tongue tied, I would."
"You mean supercalifragilisticexpiealidocious?"
Josh nodded, laughing. "Yeah, that word."
"Well we did do supercalifragi...uh..yeah," I paused as I realized I was getting tongue tied. Josh shook his head and silently stroked my cheek. We've been together for so long, and yet the first time we met in high school is still a fresh memory in my head. How lovely it was, really. I began to talk to Josh about it, only to be hushed by Jeremy, who was "trying to sleep."
I doubted he was genuinely making an effort, though. He was probably just up on the computer and doing who knows what.
I sighed silently, happily, to myself. Josh imitated me and sighed, too. I giggled and punched him gently in the arm. "You are one crazy phsyco," he whispered teasingly. I rolled my eyes and pulled myself closer to him again.
It was cold in this tour bus, but with Josh I could overcome anything. Even the cold.
Once the driver told us we reached Franklin, there was a momentary loss of all other goals but one: take Jeremy back. A huge part of me was incredibly ready to welcome him into the band with open arms. The band needed him. There was something so uncannily perfect about his bass skills, and without him, Paramore would be nothing but three pieces of lost friends. John, our current bassist, was surprisingly understanding of the whole situation, agreeing to leave the band without any complications. I wasn't sure if the "thank yous" I gave him would suffice--but I was pretty sure the message came through.
We arrived in Franklin in the early morning, (3 AM, to be exact) and into my house I went. The rest of the guys got their things unloaded and unpacked as well. Apparently my early-morning energy was too much for Jeremy to take (he answered with an understandably groggy voice as I phoned him at 3 AM to meet up), and he refused to meet us until the sun had risen and the morning was actually present. I couldn't help but agree to his request, he must have been tired, and I would not do anything to sabotage the already welcoming attitude that he was displaying at the present. He was willing to talk, and that was enough for me. Whichever time he preferred to do so was his choice, not mine.
To kill time, I headed up to my bedroom and laid against the bed that was actually mine. It was so much more comfortable than a bunk, less constrained, and so much softer. The distinct smell of laundry detergent lingered on my bedsheets. With the smell and the bed, it was perfectly easy to fall asleep.
My alarm clock went off at exactly 11:30 AM. It was almost comical how quickly my mood shifted from energetic to lazy in just a few hours. The bed and the complete comfort that engulfed me was so utterly perfect and comfortable that I almost refused to get out of bed. But knowing that Jeremy would be up and ready had snapped everything back into perspective with a burst of intuition.
I got ready, preparing finger food downstairs. The first to arrive was Josh, then Zac shortly after. Jeremy didn't show up until thirty minutes later, with what I assumed was shyness and regret. I didn't even bother asking him why he was late, or questioning him--this was too much a good opportunity to ruin by being a perfectionist and too eager. When he arrived, however, standing there in my front porch steps, I was almost surprised to see how little his face had changed. Five months was a lot of time, and I hadn't realized how little I remembered his face until now. Sure, a slight glimpse was present in my brain, a faded remembrance of his brotherly face, but I wasn't expecting it to be so precise a memory. He looked exactly as I remembered as he stood there on my front porch, one hand plastered to the back of his neck sheepishly, cracking a half-hearted smile as I welcomed him in. He entered with his face flushed in a deep-set blush, and for a long minute there was not one word uttered from any of us.
It was Zac (always helpful and always there to break the ice) who spoke up first. "Jeremy!" He exclaimed, and although it was a simple enunciation of his name, it was spoken with such excitement and welcome that I'm sure it didn't take much for him to get the message: he was welcome here. Only moments after that did I release a laugh of relief, for I didn't really know how else to react, and wrapped my arms around his neck. Josh joined in by snaking a hand around my waist and creating a group hug that lasted for a good, long minute.
We all finally settled on the couch, and I insisted Jeremy help himself to the sandwiches that I made in the kitchen, but he had something else to say. No matter how hard he tried hiding his words in his sleeve, it was an attempt that I couldn't overlook, a too-obvious endeavor to hide something that I became suspicious of. He was going to say something. I expected it.
They were tears of joy, of course, but I never expected them.
These tears came after the heart gripping apology speech that he announced to us--they were unneccessary tears, tears that made me feel weak inside but also let the confined stress pour out unto them all. I never figured that I'd cry after an apology to the band, but only now did I figure how much Jeremy meant to me, how much of a friendship I treasured with him, how much the band needed him. It was so overwhelming that the only reaction I could give off were tears.
But these tears were those of joy--nothing less. I managed to smile after Josh had uttered an expected "aww" and took hold of me, pulling me close to his chest. Jeremy laughed at me, but a laugh of pure amusement, no teasing, no hint of bullying in them. It was a laugh that was content, and happy, and I shrugged out of Josh's hug to go put myself into Jeremy's arms. He was like a brother, and he was back, and for once in my life it seemed as if everything (and I mean everything) was falling back into place.
A few years later..
"I messed up on...freaking Hallelujah," Josh mumbled as we all hung out backstage after our Final Riot! Chicago show. 'Hallelujah' was a song that we wrote, that made it into our sophomore album, Riot! With that album came a fanbase that was so supportive and so perfectly amazing that even I couldn't explain how incredibly happy I was to have them. It was a rush--Paramore started out as a small town band with big dreams, and now, as each day passed, we were living that dream. We had an album on the verge of going platinum and had made so many friends along the way.
And tonight's show was something special. The crowd outside were still exclaiming how much they loved us--I could hear the muffled sound of their cheers as we stood there backstage. Those fans I was incredibly thankful for. Paramore was just blessed, suffice it is to say. And this success was something so perfect and unexpected that I could have sworn to anyone I was dreaming. But no, I wasn't waking up anytime soon, although I did have to pinch myself every once in a while to remind me that I was not in a dream.
We got back to the bus, Zac and Jeremy being their usual crazy selves and heading over to the back for yet another game of Guitar Hero, undoubtedly.
But I was beat. I would be lying if I said I wasn't, and although the kitchen seemed a perfectly welcoming escape and a cup of tea was something I craved to have running down my throat, I decided I'd go for something more easily accessible--Josh's bunk.
I climbed into the world of his placid, sweet smelling bunk and laid my head against his pillows. The world was perfectly still in the moment that I closed my eyes and began drifting off into the dark world of sleep--until I heard someone push the curtain of the bunk to the side. No matter how much I tried to feign sleep--I could still feel the person's eyes boring deep holes into my face.
I never did like the feeling of paranoia--the feeling that someone was watching you. I snapped my eyes open and came face to face with Josh.
"I do believe this is my bunk," he whispered against my face. There was a sarcastic intonation to his voice that was impossible to overlook. He chuckled softly to himself and I simply moved over absently, making room for him to climb in. And that he did, laying in his bunk with me and wrapping both hands around my tiny frame.
And I felt secure.
He was just so comforting. Especially after live shows. This is exactly what I wanted right now. He kissed my forehead. "Don't do that," I mumbled, my eyes closed.
"Why not?" He whispered.
"My hair. It's sweaty and gross."
"It is not sweaty and gross," Josh replied.
"Yeah it is, and I don't want to contaminate your mouth with it," I giggled.
Josh laughed and pulled my body to him. He kissed my nose gently, and planted another one on my lips. "Mmm.." I whispered. I opened my eyes and looked up at him. "I'm tired."
"I know, so am I," he said with a groan.
"But I'm like, about to pass out. That's how tired I am."
"I understand. I feel the same."
I smiled back and leaned to kiss him. It was another soft kiss, slow and deep, and it was nothing short of perfect. Once it was over, I swung my legs over his body and pulled myself out of the bunk, walking over to go get my pajamas.
"I'll be bach," I replied with my best Arnold Shwarzenegger impression.
And I kept my promise, climbing back into the bunk with Josh, sharing our little intimate moment together.
"You comfortable?" He asked me, pulling the blankets over us.
The bus's heaters were now officially turned off, and it was getting extremely cold extremely fast. The windows were fogging up, and the lights were low, except for the dim glow that came from the kitchen's microwave. It was still running, and someone was making some late night Hot Pocket. The gentle hum of the microwave was the only sound to be heard inside the bus.
I nodded and snuggled into his chest, like I usually did. "I am now."
Josh laughed and shook his head. "I love you, Spongebob."
I smiled and looked up at him. "You need a nickname now," I whispered. "What about Josh-Kosh? Like Osh-Kosh?"
Josh's eyebrow rose. "Okay..." I began. "Maybe not."
"Yeah.." Josh replied. "I can't think of one, since I'm not a nickname generator."
I continued to smile up at him. "Alright. Enough nicknames. How do you think we did tonight? At the show?"
"We did...well..." There was a hesitance in his stance, a look of doubt in his face that worried me a little. That is, until a hint of a smile showed up, and it wasn't long before a full smile crept in and lit up his face. "You know we did amazing. If I could only pronounce that huge Marry Poppins word without getting tongue tied, I would."
"You mean supercalifragilisticexpiealidocious?"
Josh nodded, laughing. "Yeah, that word."
"Well we did do supercalifragi...uh..yeah," I paused as I realized I was getting tongue tied. Josh shook his head and silently stroked my cheek. We've been together for so long, and yet the first time we met in high school is still a fresh memory in my head. How lovely it was, really. I began to talk to Josh about it, only to be hushed by Jeremy, who was "trying to sleep."
I doubted he was genuinely making an effort, though. He was probably just up on the computer and doing who knows what.
I sighed silently, happily, to myself. Josh imitated me and sighed, too. I giggled and punched him gently in the arm. "You are one crazy phsyco," he whispered teasingly. I rolled my eyes and pulled myself closer to him again.
It was cold in this tour bus, but with Josh I could overcome anything. Even the cold.
HAYLEY'S POV:
Once the driver told us we reached Franklin, there was a momentary loss of all other goals but one: take Jeremy back. A huge part of me was incredibly ready to welcome him into the band with open arms. The band needed him. There was something so uncannily perfect about his bass skills, and without him, Paramore would be nothing but three pieces of lost friends. John, our current bassist, was surprisingly understanding of the whole situation, agreeing to leave the band without any complications. I wasn't sure if the "thank yous" I gave him would suffice--but I was pretty sure the message came through.
We arrived in Franklin in the early morning, (3 AM, to be exact) and into my house I went. The rest of the guys got their things unloaded and unpacked as well. Apparently my early-morning energy was too much for Jeremy to take (he answered with an understandably groggy voice as I phoned him at 3 AM to meet up), and he refused to meet us until the sun had risen and the morning was actually present. I couldn't help but agree to his request, he must have been tired, and I would not do anything to sabotage the already welcoming attitude that he was displaying at the present. He was willing to talk, and that was enough for me. Whichever time he preferred to do so was his choice, not mine.
To kill time, I headed up to my bedroom and laid against the bed that was actually mine. It was so much more comfortable than a bunk, less constrained, and so much softer. The distinct smell of laundry detergent lingered on my bedsheets. With the smell and the bed, it was perfectly easy to fall asleep.
My alarm clock went off at exactly 11:30 AM. It was almost comical how quickly my mood shifted from energetic to lazy in just a few hours. The bed and the complete comfort that engulfed me was so utterly perfect and comfortable that I almost refused to get out of bed. But knowing that Jeremy would be up and ready had snapped everything back into perspective with a burst of intuition.
I got ready, preparing finger food downstairs. The first to arrive was Josh, then Zac shortly after. Jeremy didn't show up until thirty minutes later, with what I assumed was shyness and regret. I didn't even bother asking him why he was late, or questioning him--this was too much a good opportunity to ruin by being a perfectionist and too eager. When he arrived, however, standing there in my front porch steps, I was almost surprised to see how little his face had changed. Five months was a lot of time, and I hadn't realized how little I remembered his face until now. Sure, a slight glimpse was present in my brain, a faded remembrance of his brotherly face, but I wasn't expecting it to be so precise a memory. He looked exactly as I remembered as he stood there on my front porch, one hand plastered to the back of his neck sheepishly, cracking a half-hearted smile as I welcomed him in. He entered with his face flushed in a deep-set blush, and for a long minute there was not one word uttered from any of us.
It was Zac (always helpful and always there to break the ice) who spoke up first. "Jeremy!" He exclaimed, and although it was a simple enunciation of his name, it was spoken with such excitement and welcome that I'm sure it didn't take much for him to get the message: he was welcome here. Only moments after that did I release a laugh of relief, for I didn't really know how else to react, and wrapped my arms around his neck. Josh joined in by snaking a hand around my waist and creating a group hug that lasted for a good, long minute.
We all finally settled on the couch, and I insisted Jeremy help himself to the sandwiches that I made in the kitchen, but he had something else to say. No matter how hard he tried hiding his words in his sleeve, it was an attempt that I couldn't overlook, a too-obvious endeavor to hide something that I became suspicious of. He was going to say something. I expected it.
They were tears of joy, of course, but I never expected them.
These tears came after the heart gripping apology speech that he announced to us--they were unneccessary tears, tears that made me feel weak inside but also let the confined stress pour out unto them all. I never figured that I'd cry after an apology to the band, but only now did I figure how much Jeremy meant to me, how much of a friendship I treasured with him, how much the band needed him. It was so overwhelming that the only reaction I could give off were tears.
But these tears were those of joy--nothing less. I managed to smile after Josh had uttered an expected "aww" and took hold of me, pulling me close to his chest. Jeremy laughed at me, but a laugh of pure amusement, no teasing, no hint of bullying in them. It was a laugh that was content, and happy, and I shrugged out of Josh's hug to go put myself into Jeremy's arms. He was like a brother, and he was back, and for once in my life it seemed as if everything (and I mean everything) was falling back into place.
A few years later..
"I messed up on...freaking Hallelujah," Josh mumbled as we all hung out backstage after our Final Riot! Chicago show. 'Hallelujah' was a song that we wrote, that made it into our sophomore album, Riot! With that album came a fanbase that was so supportive and so perfectly amazing that even I couldn't explain how incredibly happy I was to have them. It was a rush--Paramore started out as a small town band with big dreams, and now, as each day passed, we were living that dream. We had an album on the verge of going platinum and had made so many friends along the way.
And tonight's show was something special. The crowd outside were still exclaiming how much they loved us--I could hear the muffled sound of their cheers as we stood there backstage. Those fans I was incredibly thankful for. Paramore was just blessed, suffice it is to say. And this success was something so perfect and unexpected that I could have sworn to anyone I was dreaming. But no, I wasn't waking up anytime soon, although I did have to pinch myself every once in a while to remind me that I was not in a dream.
We got back to the bus, Zac and Jeremy being their usual crazy selves and heading over to the back for yet another game of Guitar Hero, undoubtedly.
But I was beat. I would be lying if I said I wasn't, and although the kitchen seemed a perfectly welcoming escape and a cup of tea was something I craved to have running down my throat, I decided I'd go for something more easily accessible--Josh's bunk.
I climbed into the world of his placid, sweet smelling bunk and laid my head against his pillows. The world was perfectly still in the moment that I closed my eyes and began drifting off into the dark world of sleep--until I heard someone push the curtain of the bunk to the side. No matter how much I tried to feign sleep--I could still feel the person's eyes boring deep holes into my face.
I never did like the feeling of paranoia--the feeling that someone was watching you. I snapped my eyes open and came face to face with Josh.
"I do believe this is my bunk," he whispered against my face. There was a sarcastic intonation to his voice that was impossible to overlook. He chuckled softly to himself and I simply moved over absently, making room for him to climb in. And that he did, laying in his bunk with me and wrapping both hands around my tiny frame.
And I felt secure.
He was just so comforting. Especially after live shows. This is exactly what I wanted right now. He kissed my forehead. "Don't do that," I mumbled, my eyes closed.
"Why not?" He whispered.
"My hair. It's sweaty and gross."
"It is not sweaty and gross," Josh replied.
"Yeah it is, and I don't want to contaminate your mouth with it," I giggled.
Josh laughed and pulled my body to him. He kissed my nose gently, and planted another one on my lips. "Mmm.." I whispered. I opened my eyes and looked up at him. "I'm tired."
"I know, so am I," he said with a groan.
"But I'm like, about to pass out. That's how tired I am."
"I understand. I feel the same."
I smiled back and leaned to kiss him. It was another soft kiss, slow and deep, and it was nothing short of perfect. Once it was over, I swung my legs over his body and pulled myself out of the bunk, walking over to go get my pajamas.
"I'll be bach," I replied with my best Arnold Shwarzenegger impression.
And I kept my promise, climbing back into the bunk with Josh, sharing our little intimate moment together.
"You comfortable?" He asked me, pulling the blankets over us.
The bus's heaters were now officially turned off, and it was getting extremely cold extremely fast. The windows were fogging up, and the lights were low, except for the dim glow that came from the kitchen's microwave. It was still running, and someone was making some late night Hot Pocket. The gentle hum of the microwave was the only sound to be heard inside the bus.
I nodded and snuggled into his chest, like I usually did. "I am now."
Josh laughed and shook his head. "I love you, Spongebob."
I smiled and looked up at him. "You need a nickname now," I whispered. "What about Josh-Kosh? Like Osh-Kosh?"
Josh's eyebrow rose. "Okay..." I began. "Maybe not."
"Yeah.." Josh replied. "I can't think of one, since I'm not a nickname generator."
I continued to smile up at him. "Alright. Enough nicknames. How do you think we did tonight? At the show?"
"We did...well..." There was a hesitance in his stance, a look of doubt in his face that worried me a little. That is, until a hint of a smile showed up, and it wasn't long before a full smile crept in and lit up his face. "You know we did amazing. If I could only pronounce that huge Marry Poppins word without getting tongue tied, I would."
"You mean supercalifragilisticexpiealidocious?"
Josh nodded, laughing. "Yeah, that word."
"Well we did do supercalifragi...uh..yeah," I paused as I realized I was getting tongue tied. Josh shook his head and silently stroked my cheek. We've been together for so long, and yet the first time we met in high school is still a fresh memory in my head. How lovely it was, really. I began to talk to Josh about it, only to be hushed by Jeremy, who was "trying to sleep."
I doubted he was genuinely making an effort, though. He was probably just up on the computer and doing who knows what.
I sighed silently, happily, to myself. Josh imitated me and sighed, too. I giggled and punched him gently in the arm. "You are one crazy phsyco," he whispered teasingly. I rolled my eyes and pulled myself closer to him again.
It was cold in this tour bus, but with Josh I could overcome anything. Even the cold.
Once the driver told us we reached Franklin, there was a momentary loss of all other goals but one: take Jeremy back. A huge part of me was incredibly ready to welcome him into the band with open arms. The band needed him. There was something so uncannily perfect about his bass skills, and without him, Paramore would be nothing but three pieces of lost friends. John, our current bassist, was surprisingly understanding of the whole situation, agreeing to leave the band without any complications. I wasn't sure if the "thank yous" I gave him would suffice--but I was pretty sure the message came through.
We arrived in Franklin in the early morning, (3 AM, to be exact) and into my house I went. The rest of the guys got their things unloaded and unpacked as well. Apparently my early-morning energy was too much for Jeremy to take (he answered with an understandably groggy voice as I phoned him at 3 AM to meet up), and he refused to meet us until the sun had risen and the morning was actually present. I couldn't help but agree to his request, he must have been tired, and I would not do anything to sabotage the already welcoming attitude that he was displaying at the present. He was willing to talk, and that was enough for me. Whichever time he preferred to do so was his choice, not mine.
To kill time, I headed up to my bedroom and laid against the bed that was actually mine. It was so much more comfortable than a bunk, less constrained, and so much softer. The distinct smell of laundry detergent lingered on my bedsheets. With the smell and the bed, it was perfectly easy to fall asleep.
My alarm clock went off at exactly 11:30 AM. It was almost comical how quickly my mood shifted from energetic to lazy in just a few hours. The bed and the complete comfort that engulfed me was so utterly perfect and comfortable that I almost refused to get out of bed. But knowing that Jeremy would be up and ready had snapped everything back into perspective with a burst of intuition.
I got ready, preparing finger food downstairs. The first to arrive was Josh, then Zac shortly after. Jeremy didn't show up until thirty minutes later, with what I assumed was shyness and regret. I didn't even bother asking him why he was late, or questioning him--this was too much a good opportunity to ruin by being a perfectionist and too eager. When he arrived, however, standing there in my front porch steps, I was almost surprised to see how little his face had changed. Five months was a lot of time, and I hadn't realized how little I remembered his face until now. Sure, a slight glimpse was present in my brain, a faded remembrance of his brotherly face, but I wasn't expecting it to be so precise a memory. He looked exactly as I remembered as he stood there on my front porch, one hand plastered to the back of his neck sheepishly, cracking a half-hearted smile as I welcomed him in. He entered with his face flushed in a deep-set blush, and for a long minute there was not one word uttered from any of us.
It was Zac (always helpful and always there to break the ice) who spoke up first. "Jeremy!" He exclaimed, and although it was a simple enunciation of his name, it was spoken with such excitement and welcome that I'm sure it didn't take much for him to get the message: he was welcome here. Only moments after that did I release a laugh of relief, for I didn't really know how else to react, and wrapped my arms around his neck. Josh joined in by snaking a hand around my waist and creating a group hug that lasted for a good, long minute.
We all finally settled on the couch, and I insisted Jeremy help himself to the sandwiches that I made in the kitchen, but he had something else to say. No matter how hard he tried hiding his words in his sleeve, it was an attempt that I couldn't overlook, a too-obvious endeavor to hide something that I became suspicious of. He was going to say something. I expected it.
They were tears of joy, of course, but I never expected them.
These tears came after the heart gripping apology speech that he announced to us--they were unneccessary tears, tears that made me feel weak inside but also let the confined stress pour out unto them all. I never figured that I'd cry after an apology to the band, but only now did I figure how much Jeremy meant to me, how much of a friendship I treasured with him, how much the band needed him. It was so overwhelming that the only reaction I could give off were tears.
But these tears were those of joy--nothing less. I managed to smile after Josh had uttered an expected "aww" and took hold of me, pulling me close to his chest. Jeremy laughed at me, but a laugh of pure amusement, no teasing, no hint of bullying in them. It was a laugh that was content, and happy, and I shrugged out of Josh's hug to go put myself into Jeremy's arms. He was like a brother, and he was back, and for once in my life it seemed as if everything (and I mean everything) was falling back into place.
A few years later..
"I messed up on...freaking Hallelujah," Josh mumbled as we all hung out backstage after our Final Riot! Chicago show. 'Hallelujah' was a song that we wrote, that made it into our sophomore album, Riot! With that album came a fanbase that was so supportive and so perfectly amazing that even I couldn't explain how incredibly happy I was to have them. It was a rush--Paramore started out as a small town band with big dreams, and now, as each day passed, we were living that dream. We had an album on the verge of going platinum and had made so many friends along the way.
And tonight's show was something special. The crowd outside were still exclaiming how much they loved us--I could hear the muffled sound of their cheers as we stood there backstage. Those fans I was incredibly thankful for. Paramore was just blessed, suffice it is to say. And this success was something so perfect and unexpected that I could have sworn to anyone I was dreaming. But no, I wasn't waking up anytime soon, although I did have to pinch myself every once in a while to remind me that I was not in a dream.
We got back to the bus, Zac and Jeremy being their usual crazy selves and heading over to the back for yet another game of Guitar Hero, undoubtedly.
But I was beat. I would be lying if I said I wasn't, and although the kitchen seemed a perfectly welcoming escape and a cup of tea was something I craved to have running down my throat, I decided I'd go for something more easily accessible--Josh's bunk.
I climbed into the world of his placid, sweet smelling bunk and laid my head against his pillows. The world was perfectly still in the moment that I closed my eyes and began drifting off into the dark world of sleep--until I heard someone push the curtain of the bunk to the side. No matter how much I tried to feign sleep--I could still feel the person's eyes boring deep holes into my face.
I never did like the feeling of paranoia--the feeling that someone was watching you. I snapped my eyes open and came face to face with Josh.
"I do believe this is my bunk," he whispered against my face. There was a sarcastic intonation to his voice that was impossible to overlook. He chuckled softly to himself and I simply moved over absently, making room for him to climb in. And that he did, laying in his bunk with me and wrapping both hands around my tiny frame.
And I felt secure.
He was just so comforting. Especially after live shows. This is exactly what I wanted right now. He kissed my forehead. "Don't do that," I mumbled, my eyes closed.
"Why not?" He whispered.
"My hair. It's sweaty and gross."
"It is not sweaty and gross," Josh replied.
"Yeah it is, and I don't want to contaminate your mouth with it," I giggled.
Josh laughed and pulled my body to him. He kissed my nose gently, and planted another one on my lips. "Mmm.." I whispered. I opened my eyes and looked up at him. "I'm tired."
"I know, so am I," he said with a groan.
"But I'm like, about to pass out. That's how tired I am."
"I understand. I feel the same."
I smiled back and leaned to kiss him. It was another soft kiss, slow and deep, and it was nothing short of perfect. Once it was over, I swung my legs over his body and pulled myself out of the bunk, walking over to go get my pajamas.
"I'll be bach," I replied with my best Arnold Shwarzenegger impression.
And I kept my promise, climbing back into the bunk with Josh, sharing our little intimate moment together.
"You comfortable?" He asked me, pulling the blankets over us.
The bus's heaters were now officially turned off, and it was getting extremely cold extremely fast. The windows were fogging up, and the lights were low, except for the dim glow that came from the kitchen's microwave. It was still running, and someone was making some late night Hot Pocket. The gentle hum of the microwave was the only sound to be heard inside the bus.
I nodded and snuggled into his chest, like I usually did. "I am now."
Josh laughed and shook his head. "I love you, Spongebob."
I smiled and looked up at him. "You need a nickname now," I whispered. "What about Josh-Kosh? Like Osh-Kosh?"
Josh's eyebrow rose. "Okay..." I began. "Maybe not."
"Yeah.." Josh replied. "I can't think of one, since I'm not a nickname generator."
I continued to smile up at him. "Alright. Enough nicknames. How do you think we did tonight? At the show?"
"We did...well..." There was a hesitance in his stance, a look of doubt in his face that worried me a little. That is, until a hint of a smile showed up, and it wasn't long before a full smile crept in and lit up his face. "You know we did amazing. If I could only pronounce that huge Marry Poppins word without getting tongue tied, I would."
"You mean supercalifragilisticexpiealidocious?"
Josh nodded, laughing. "Yeah, that word."
"Well we did do supercalifragi...uh..yeah," I paused as I realized I was getting tongue tied. Josh shook his head and silently stroked my cheek. We've been together for so long, and yet the first time we met in high school is still a fresh memory in my head. How lovely it was, really. I began to talk to Josh about it, only to be hushed by Jeremy, who was "trying to sleep."
I doubted he was genuinely making an effort, though. He was probably just up on the computer and doing who knows what.
I sighed silently, happily, to myself. Josh imitated me and sighed, too. I giggled and punched him gently in the arm. "You are one crazy phsyco," he whispered teasingly. I rolled my eyes and pulled myself closer to him again.
It was cold in this tour bus, but with Josh I could overcome anything. Even the cold.