"You're starting again."

"What?" you asked innocently, turning to Spencer with a smile.

The drummer shook his head and scoffed, eyes darting between you and Ryan – who was standing across the room at the piano. "(Y/N). You're practically drooling."

Instinctively, you raised a hand to your mouth and wiped. "No, I'm not!" you defended. "Shut up. You're insane!"

Spencer pursed his lips and kept quiet for a second while he thought. "Yeah," he chuckled after a little while, "you're right. What would you ever see in Ryan?"

"WHAT?" you gaped, turning to your friend with a shocked face. "Ryan is amazing! Funny, handsome, smart-"

"..."

"..."

Spencer sniggered.

"I can't believe I fell for that," you groaned, squeezing your eyes shut and rolling your head before banging it against the table.

~2 months later~

Brendon practically galloped down the backstage corridors of the venue you guys were playing in tonight, giggling gleefully as he made his way closer and closer to you.

He skidded to a halt in the west wing of the stage, which you currently occupied with your band – The Midnight Bandits.

You guys were currently touring with Panic! as the opening act on their Pretty. Odd. tour, having started just over two months ago. At present, your band was on stage, halfway through the last song of your sound check for tonight's show.

Brendon couldn't stop his legs from bouncing as he patiently waited for you guys to finish, his giggles returning as you started coming off stage.

"(Y/N)!" he waved you over excitedly.

You turned away from your conversation with one of your band mates – Jesy – and faced in the direction you heard your name being called from; seeing Brendon virtually exploding with excitement, you offered him a weak smile.

With a sardonic smirk plastered on her face, Jesy patted you on the back. "Good luck," she whispered before slinking off to join the rest of your band while you aversely made your way over to Brendon.

"Hi, Bren."

"(Y/N), WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME THAT YOU HAVE A CRUSH ON RYAN?"

Your eyes grew to about ten times their usual size, and you smashed a hand over the singer's mouth before deftly grabbing him by the bicep and dragging him somewhere no one could overhear the conversation you were about to have.

Taking a quick glance around, you made sure that no one was around before you yanked open the door to the supply closet and shoved Brendon inside before you yourself climbed in.

"Who the hell told you that?" you demanded, tone quite harsh as you glowered at Brendon.

"Spencer, duh," he replied with a smile.

You facepalmed and let out a moan of anguish. "Oh, why? Why would he do that?" you grumbled. You had been talking mostly to yourself, but Brendon responded.

"We were playing real-life 'Would You Rather' and I gave him the options of either sending a nude to random contact in his phone or telling me a secret he swore he would keep. I think you can guess which one he chose."

"Well, that's just absolutely wonderful!" you chuckled sarcastically, throwing your hands in the air. "Perfect. This is just what I needed."

Brendon didn't seem to grasp your level of sarcasm. Or if he did, he simply chose to ignore it. "I know right!" he grinned. "You guys would be so adorable togeth-"

"I was being sarcastic! I'm not at all thrilled about this!"

Brendon cocked his head to the side with a quizzical look on his face. "Why not? Now that I'm aware of your feelings for our baby boy, I can-"

"No!" you interjected, pointing a finger in Brendon's face, almost touching his nose; he crossed his eyes to look at it. "You are not gonna come up with some elaborate scheme to hook us up! No."

"Okay, firstly," he pushed your finger away from his face and huffed, "you need to stop cutting me off," he sassed, "it's rude. Secondly," the frown he was wearing turned into puppy dog eyes as he whined, "please, oh please, let me get you guys together!"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because if he doesn't feel the same way, it'll be extremely embarrassing for all of us. And there's still three months of the tour left. I don't want to spend that time trying to dodge him out of humiliation. Besides," you sighed, leaning against the wall, "I told Spencer I had a crush on him two months ago. My feelings have kinda disintegrated by now."

Brendon narrowed his eyes. "Liar."

"Am not," you snapped.

"Liar, liar, plants for hire." He folded his arms.

"It's 'pants on fire', not 'plants for hire."

"You would know. Liar."

"Brendon," you sighed in exasperation, "please just... don't."

He stared at you blankly for a minute, before seemingly coming to a decision. "Okay," he nodded, "I won't do anything." You slumped in relief. "If, and only if, you do it yourself before the end of the tour."

"What? No, I can't."

"Yes, you can."

"I told you, if he rejects me..."

"He won't."

"How do you know that?"

"Because I know for a fact that he finds you cute, and funny, and smart, and a whole lot of other things. He likes you."

You opened your mouth, about to protest, when Brendon continued.

"And I know this, because he and I spoke about it before the start of the tour. He said you were 'the epitome of perfection'."

"He-he said that?" you sputtered, in total disbelief. Brendon nodded. "Why didn't you mention this at the start of our conversation?"

"I was going to, but someone kept on interrupting me mid-sentence."

"Right," you cleared your throat. "Sorry."

"Now, are you fine with me trying to hook you guys up?"

~

"(Y/N)?" Ryan scrunched up his face in thought as he moved from the piano to the mini-fridge, grabbing a drink. He had been working on some new songs when Brendon waltzed in, asking him how he felt about you, and the prospect of dating you. The question had admittedly caught him violently off guard, and he had to take a minute to figure out his answer. Yes, you were an incredible person – and exceptionally beautiful – and he'd be lying if he said dating you didn't sound appealing, but there was that other girl, Jessica, that he'd met at a bar a few months back. The two of them had kind of a thing going on, and she was smoking hot – he didn't want to screw that up. "I already told you what I think about her," he shrugged, twisting the bottle cap off of the beer, "as for if I'd date her? No. Well, not right now, at least. There's this hot bartender."

"Oh," Brendon mumbled dejectedly, looking down at the ground of the studio they were standing in.

"Why do you ask?"

Brendon looked up at the big eyes of his band mate, and chewed on his bottom lip, having an internal debate over whether or not to tell the truth. Yes, he did say that he wouldn't tell anyone, but you had also given him permission to set you and Ryan up, and if telling the truth was a way to do that, then so be it. "She, uh, she kinda has a crush on you."

Ryan's doe eyes got even wider, and he leaned in a bit, out of shock. "She does?" Brendon nodded. "Oh, wow. Wow. I, uh, I don't know what to say to that. I mean, I can't say that I don't feel anything for her, 'cause then I'd be lying, but..."

"The hot bartender," Brendon sighed, shaking his head in disapproval. "Way to think with your dick and not your heart, Ross."

~

Smoothing out the tiny creases in the sexy red dress you were wearing, you held onto Slade's arm as your band entered the club, the bass from the music making your entire body tremble. You all had an off day tomorrow, so everyone decided a week ago that tonight would be used as an opportunity to hit the clubs and blow off a little steam.

The other day in the supply closet, Brendon had promised you that he'd talk to Ryan as soon as possible, and that tonight at the club would be where things would kick off. So, understandably, you were more nervous than you'd ever been in your entire life. Taking a deep breath, your eyes scanned the room in search of Brendon, Ryan or either of the other two member's of Panic!, but they came up empty. You sighed deflatedly and Slade let out a light chuckle, squeezing the arm you had linked in his in reassurance.

"It'll be fine, babygirl," he said. "You look hot as hell; he'd be stupid if he didn't wife you on the spot."

Your band mate's words boosted your confidence tremendously, and helped rid your stomach of the pitiful dread feeling you'd been walking around with. "Thanks, Slade," you said, and he shot you a wink in response. "But I don't think he's here. I don't see any of them anywhere."

"There he is!" Leighton perked up, pointing over the crowd at a booth in the corner of the club.

You straightened up, a smile finding its way onto your face as you followed Leighton's finger. When you finally spotted Ryan, your entire body went rigid.

A heavy silence fell over the four of you as you all watched the songwriter. A lump started forming in your throat and no matter how many times you swallowed, it didn't seem to want to go away.

Slade pulled you closer to him and Jesy rested her head on your shoulder while Leighton rubbed your arm soothingly.

"I'm so sorry, (Y/N/N)," Jesy whispered.

"Don't be," you forced a smile, but your voice cracked from the emotion you were feeling. "It's not your fault."

"Yeah, but-"

"I don't know about you guys," you broke free from your friends' grasps, "but I feel the sudden urge to get completely and utterly wasted."

~

"I hate him," you slurred, after having just downed your seventh shot, "I hate him for existing, I hate Brendon for making me believe that I ever had a chance with him, I hate that skank," you turned around and shot a hateful glare at the girl hanging on Ryan, "for being all over him, I hate life, for being so goddamn unfair... I fucking hate everything! Fuck!"

"Uh," Leighton came up next to you, pushing the remaining full shot glasses away from you, "I think that's enough alcohol for you."

"No," you barked, reaching forward and grabbing the shots, swiftly downing another two, "I need it."

Your band mates shared a worried look before Jesy shrugged. "Just let her be," she said softly, "she needs to get it all out. And it's either this, or physical assault on Ryan Ross and that other chick, so..."

"(Y/N)," a breathless Brendon came running over to you; you narrowed your eyes once you spotted him, "(Y/N), I-"

"Fuck you, Brendon," you hissed, hopping off of the chair. Your equilibrium was totally out due to the copious amounts of alcohol you'd consumed, and Slade just about managed to catch you in his arms before you toppled to the floor. "You lied to me! You told me he liked me!"

"He does!" Brendon defended.

"Reeeeaaaalllllyyy," you scoffed, hiccupping slightly, "because that's not what it looks like."

Brendon gazed over his shoulder briefly, grimacing as he saw Ryan and the girl huddled together. "Look, I know that this is-"

"But you know what," you cut him off, gripping tightly onto Slade's arms and turning to face him, "he's having fun, so why can't I?"

And with that, you crashed your lips on Slade's, leaving the remaining three with their jaws on the floor.

~

Everyone knows that hangovers are the worst. And the regret you feel the day after a random hook-up was amongst the most awful feelings in the world. But put those two together, and it was the equivalent of every childhood nightmare you ever had times a million.

Slade was essentially non-fussed over the make-out session you'd started in the club and assured you that there was no weird vibes between the two of you – he understands why you did what you did. You were tremendously close with each of your band mates, and you thanked your lucky stars that it was one of them you hooked up with and not some random stranger.

But nevertheless, your guilt level was at an all time high. You still had feelings for Ryan; seeing him with that girl hadn't changed that. Now, you felt awful for what you did.

You had a pounding headache, you were feeling guilty, your emotions were all over the place and you were thirty seconds away from getting on stage.

Great.

~25 minutes later~

You'd never regretted becoming a drummer more than you did over the last 25 minutes. The sounds seemed to be amplified so much, you thought your brain was going to burst. But you suffered through it. Very painfully. And now it was time for the last song, which you were going to sing.

You made your way to the front of the stage, and adjusted the mic stand to your height.

"Hey everyone," you greeted the crowd; the sound of their cheering brought a smile to your face. "How're we feeling? Is everyone good?" More cheering. "Wonderful. So, um, we're gonna slow it down a little bit for this next song, if that's alright with you." The crowed hollered their approval and you turned to the rest of the band, counting them in.

You gripped the mic with both hands and started singing.

"Can't help wondering what you're thinking

Wherever you are

Late night movies, careless drinking

To cover these scars

And as much as I wanna be with you, I know...

You and me, we're bumper cars

The more I try to get to you

The more we crash apart, no

Round and round we chase the sparks

But all that seems to lead to...

Is a pile of broken parts"

You took a deep breath; trying to control your shaky breath as you felt your emotions take over and your voice begin to crack.

"Good intentions, all these questions

I'm sitting alone

All roads since you are wrong directions

I'll never get home

And it's making me wanna be with you, I know..."

You couldn't control it anymore, and the tears started free falling.

"I'm sorry," you choked out, sobbing.

~

The crowd was phenomenal, and they supported you through the entirety of your breakdown, singing the words when you couldn't and yelling supportive comments. You were lucky to have fans that supported you as much as your fanbase did.

Unfortunately, they were just as nosy as they were supportive, and now, all of the members of The Midnight Bandits' social medias were blowing up with fans wanting the tea to be spilt i.e. wanting to know why you broke down so suddenly, and more specifically: because of whom.

"I fucking hate Ryan Ross!" you groaned, pacing up and down your hotel room.

"So you've mentioned," Leighton remarked from his place on the bed.

"This is all because of him! If he hadn't been the reason for me getting drunk last night, I wouldn't have been hungover and feel guilty about kissing Slade-"

"Hey," Slade popped his head around the doorframe, since he was in the bathroom, "I rocked your world."

"-my emotions wouldn't have been all over the fucking place, and I wouldn't have cried in front of thousands of people. Ugh!" you flopped down onto the bed. "And now our Bandits aren't gonna leave us the fuck alone until the have all the details. Fuck me."

There was a knock at your hotel door, and when you yelled for them to come inside, Brendon and Ryan walked in. You shot upright.

"Leighton, Slade, our order is at reception," Jesy called, hopping up and grabbing the two guys before dashing out the door, leaving you alone with the other two males.

"Hey, (Y/N)," Ryan greeted with a small smile as he slowly walked over to you, concern etched onto his boyish features. "We just wanted to come and check up on you, make sure you're okay and stuff."

"I'm fine," you said coldly, making Ryan frown.

"Are you sure? You don't seem fine."

"I hate you."

His mouth fell open in shock. "Excuse me?"

"I said I hate you."

Ryan was offended, to say the least, and his anger was growing rapidly. Why were you being so rude to him? All he was trying to do was be a good person, and here you were, not only rejecting him, but also telling him that you hate him.

Well, if you hated him, then he hated you too.

I mean, after all, you had lied to Brendon about having feelings for him. He saw you make-out with Slade at the club, and if you really did like him, why would you do that? Were you just pulling a prank by saying that you liked him? He felt a twang of pain in his heart.

But on the other hand, maybe he was being a bit of a hypocrite.

He was there with that bartender girl, after all. That didn't work out, though. He caught her screwing some other guy in the bathroom. But regardless of all of this, he still responded aggressively.

"Wow," he frowned. "Well guess what? I hate you too."

"They actually wanna bone each other soooo bad," Brendon said in a narrator voice, earning a glare from both you and Ryan.

"Please leave," you said, standing up from the bed, "I don't want you here."

"Great, 'cause I don't wanna be here."

"You're the one who showed up."

"I realise now that that was a mistake."

"I'm glad you have the mental capacity to have come to that realisation. Now go."

"Bitch."

"Jerk."

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Thank you for reading x