With (NO) love, Tyler-Jane Roberts

Over a week had passed since joining the tour. For the most part, it was easy to keep my mind off of things. There was a fast-paced schedule to life on the road, with playing a show every night and the parties that followed early into the morning. The daytime was reserved for sleeping off the horrid hangover as we drove to the next city.

However, I was not lucky enough to rest during that time. Instead, I laid awake and allowed my mind to think. That was one of the lowest points for me and my thoughts; knowing I wouldn't be able to numb the torture until nighttime. And numbing the pain away was something I happily did.

The other bands that we were the opening acts for were far more established. In fact, the boys and I were quite amazed to learn that we would be touring with them. It was only a few short months ago that we would listen to their songs on the radio. Now, we were listed as a performing act right alongside them. We were not only introduced to the lifestyle of performing but also their way of partying. Shit. They knew how to party. For a couple extra hundred bucks, I quickly learned how much better those lines of powder could feel. And after seeing Carter's face pop up everywhere with promotion ramping up for his new album, I needed all the drugs I could get my hands on.

"You alright?"

My eyes shifted to Gwen as I gave her a weak nod in response, wondering how long I had spaced out for. That seemed to become a habit of mine while sitting in the make-up chair, doing my best to sit still so I would not mess up her work.

Gwen rummaged through her makeup bag. "Since we both know that's a load of crap," she said, holding my head in place as she swiped a brush across my face, "After you fucking rock it out there, first rounds on me tonight."

I grinned. "Well, I can't pass up a free drink."

"Atta' girl."

Gwen was a lot like her uncle in many ways. Maybe that was why the two of us seemed to get along as quickly as we did. It was weird having a female friend. It wasn't that I didn't like females, they just never seemed to be around. Besides, I definitely was not the type to go out searching for a friend. Gwen, on the other hand, seemed like a perfect fit ever since Hank brought her in. At least I now had someone to spend time with outside of the three boys.

Patrick swung open the door. "Ladies," he greeted, sitting in the empty chair.

I rose from my spot, leaning towards the mirror to check over Gwen's work. It still amazed me how she made me look well-rested every time she did my makeup.

"Thanks, G."

Gwen had already turned her attention to Patrick's hair as I walked towards the bathroom.

"Pat, why the fuck is your hair crunchy?!"

I couldn't help but laugh as I heard her comment, closing the bathroom door behind me. That boy would do anything to get her attention.

I looked myself over in the mirror, fixing any last detail I could find. Turning to the side, I ran a hand down my stomach, wondering if I had too much for lunch. The last thing I wanted was for an unflattering photo of me on stage to end up online.

I looked at my phone. No texts, no calls. It was the same every night. I tortured myself every time by checking. This was all my own doing. I was mad at him over something I knew wasn't necessarily his fault. I told him not to call or reach out. He was only respecting my wishes. Yet, funnily enough, this was the one time I actually wanted a guy not to listen.

"Five minutes!" Someone called out.

Shit.

I needed to stop thinking about it. I needed to stop thinking about him, but my mind was cruel tonight. All I could think about was him... and his smile... and the way he laughed... and how his – What the fuck was wrong with me?

Reaching into the back pocket of my pants, I pulled out a small plastic bag.

"Shit, shit, shit," I cursed under my breath, seeing the tiny amount of powder left.

Opening the bag, I used my index finger to get as much of the leftover residue as possible and rubbed the powder against my gums. The amount was minuscule, but it would do the trick.

"TJ! Come on, we gotta go!" Patrick's voice yelled from the other side of the door.

"I'm coming!" I yelled back.

I flushed the bag into the toilet, ridding the area of any evidence. Not that it mattered, considering what was scattered on the floor.

Opening the bathroom door, I turned to Patrick and forced a smile. "Ready!"

The roar of the crowd was still loud and evident as we walked off the stage. It was still a weird feeling seeing that many people showing up to watch us perform. Especially when we were quite new compared to the rest of the following acts. I trailed behind the other boys, who were practically bouncing off the wall with post-show energy. I was too, even if my outside appearance was far more muted in comparison.

That feeling quickly diminished as we walked into the dressing room. Placed on the coffee table was a large bouquet. And not just any flowers. Ones that looked exactly like the ones from his garden.

"Woah! Who got the fancy flowers?" Silas asked.

Gwen looked up from her phone. "Oh, er, they were for me. Someone brought them in just after you guys went on stage."

My heart sank hearing her response. I turned to the table that housed the food and drinks, instantly pouring myself a glass of whatever liquor I could grab.

"Who sent you those?" Patrick questioned, "Your boyfriend?"

Smooth, I thought to myself while taking a sip.

"No, god no. My, er, parents sent them." Gwen quickly responded.

Without looking, I knew that gave Patrick some hope. I kept my attention on the table in front of me, pretending to decide what food I wanted to eat. What I was really trying to do was avoid looking at those flowers. Because looking at those flowers reminded me of his backyard, which reminded me of our dinner, which led me to think about how–

I raised the plastic cup to my lips, gulping down as much of the harsh liquid as I could. In my efforts to numb my mind, I hadn't noticed Gwen appear beside me.

She held a small, white envelope in her hand. "I was going to give it to you tomorrow, but I think you need it now."

I placed my drink down and took the envelope from her hand. On the front written in cursive letters was printed: Jay Eltern. The anagram he had made for my name; the one he put on his album that he showed me on our date. I hesitated, taking a deep breath as I slid the card out.

Hope the tour's going well so far.

- Carter

"You alright?"

"Never been better," I muttered, placing the card into my back pocket to stop myself from staring at the printed message. Quickly chugging down the rest of my drink, I turned to face the rest of the room. "Who's got a line?"

Clubs were never my first choice. The loud, blasting music. The crowds. The excessive heat radiating off those around you. You needed to be severely fucked up to enjoy it. And thankfully, I was. One little pink pill with a stamped smiley face was certainly doing its trick to change my mood. The lights flashed onto the crowd, illuminating the bodies that were packed on the dance floor. I glanced up, transfixed by the bright colours, my eyes following the light as it moved around the room.

It was as if the world had decided to play a cruel trick, aimed directly at me. The moment my mind forgot about him and allowed myself to enjoy the night, his voice flooded the speakers. The sounds of him singing his new song, mixed into a beat by the DJ to be suitable for our current environment. I glanced around at those near me, who were either too high, drunk, or oblivious to notice. It was best to keep it that way. There wasn't enough alcohol to change how I was feeling and dragging down those around me was the last thing I wanted to do.

Sad about a boy... Me? How pathetic.

I downed the rest of my drink as fast as I could, looking for a way to escape this situation.

"Bathroom?" I heard Gwen yell over the music.

It was clear she had clued into what was going on. She was good at doing that.

Patrick stood beside her with a pleading look, as if to say "please don't take her away right now".

"Yeah, but you stay!" I called back, slipping away from the group before she had the chance to protest.

Pushing my way through the crowd, I followed the glow of the bathroom sign. Feeling my shoulder bump into another, an arm went around my waist to stop my body from tumbling to the ground. Looking up at the stranger, my eyes went wide taking in his features.

It was him.

"Are you alright?"

That wasn't his voice.

I blinked. Slowly the face began to change, morphing away from who I thought it was. Clearing my throat, I mumbled some sort of apology and brushed the stranger's arm away. I picked up my pace, not wanting to bump into another person and magically see his face again.

Making my way into the bathroom, I hurried into a stall and locked the door. I leaned against the wall and let out a deep breath. Silence. Pulling out the note from my back pocket, I ran my thumb against the paper. He sent me flowers. Beautiful flowers. I have never received such a gift before. Was it supposed to make you feel warm inside your chest?

Stop it, TJ.

I stopped my thoughts from going further into dangerous, unknown territory.

Should I thank him?

I looked down at my cell phone, considering the option of smashing it into little pieces or flushing it down the toilet to solve my problem. No, I couldn't do that. I couldn't afford to buy myself another right now.

My eyes focused on the graffiti-marked wall. One of the scribbles in large letters, written in permanent marker, caught my eye. CALL HIM. I watched as the ink began to run; the words dripping down the wall like thick paint.

Sweat began to pool on the back of my neck. My body flushed with heat and my mouth ran dry. Shit. Maybe I needed to go home. Sleep off whatever was going on with me. No, that wouldn't work. I couldn't sleep. Every time my mind tried to rest, I thought of something that kept me up the entire night. What I really needed was a drink. Maybe a line. Anything to get these torturous thoughts out of my head.

I glanced back down at my phone. LIL MACH was typed in large letters on the screen. The letters began to change colours, moving around, until they rearranged into CALL HIM. Then, one by one, each letter slowly vanished.

You're just tripping balls, TJ. Calm the fuck down.

I closed my eyes, trying to rest my heartbeat, which currently felt as if it were to leap out of my chest.

I couldn't stop myself. Once my phone was in my hand, his number had been magically dialled. Or so my drunken mind led me to believe as the agonizing ringing began.

Ring... Ring... Ring... Ring... Ring... Ring–

"Hello?"

That wasn't his voice. 

:O whose voice was it???

just for context; asking for a line = cocaine :D

i said this story was mature yall dont get mad lol