Page 48 of Electric Wounds
Jax remains silent, staring out the window, his frustration palpable. The brooding look on his face only deepens as time passes, and I can’t help but worry about him. He’s always kind of moody, but this seems worse than usual.
When the van finally arrives, there’s a mad scramble to gather our things. The bus might not be ready after the show, and everyone’s anxious to pack up what they need for a few days, just in case. We probably should have packed while we were waiting, but I think it got too hot for any of us to consider moving without the immediate promise of AC after.
I grab my duffle bag, packing my few belongings quickly, then double-checking to make sure I’ve got everything. Enzo barks out orders, irritated as he throws clothes into his duffel in a frenzy. It’s like now that the van is here, he can’t handle being on the bus for another minute. "Come on, hurry up! We don’t have all day."
Dylan rolls his eyes, but he is also just cramming items into a bag at random. "Relax, man. We’re all trying to get out of here."
Marcus is methodical. Despite the heat and the urgency to get to the next show, he folds his clothes and packs each item neatly. "Let’s just get what we need and go. No point in stressing. If you’re ready, go sit in the van. It isn’t going to leave until we are all in there."
Jax moves sluggishly, his mind clearly elsewhere. He shoves a few items into his bag, then sits back down, staring at the floor. I watch him, my heart aching for whatever he’s going through. It’s clear the time on the bus brought up something for him that was not pleasant.
Enzo snaps at Jax to keep moving and I turn away, not wanting to get involved. I head to the small bathroom, the heatunbearable in the cramped space. As I grab my toiletries, I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. My face is flushed, hair sticking to my forehead. I take a deep breath, then spend a few seconds trying to separate my hair from my sweaty skin.
"Come on, Lily, we need to move," Marcus calls from the front of the bus.
"Coming!" I quickly stuff my things into my bag, deciding to ignore my sweaty appearance for the time being, and hurry to join the others.
Outside, the heat is marginally better than inside the bus. We pile into the van, squeezing into the tight space. I end up sitting between Marcus and Enzo, with Jax and Dylan in the back.
As soon as we’re on the road, the tension thickens. We’re all tired and exhausted. The heat is no joke, and none of us have eaten in several hours. No one wanted to open the fridge and risk spoiling the food inside when there was no way to cook a meal, anyway.
The crew members that picked us up in the van are ones that I don’t recognize. As we start down the road, one of them turns to give me a suggestive look that makes me slightly uncomfortable. I ignore it, leaning closer into Marcus and pretending to look out the window.
The guy doesn’t seem to get the hint. "Hey sweetheart, why don’t you sit up front with me? Keep me company." He suggests.
Before I can respond, Enzo snaps. "Back off!" His voice is a low growl, his eyes blazing with anger.
The guy raises his hands in mock surrender, laughing nervously. "Alright, alright. I didn’t mean to offend anyone."
Enzo growls, and I intertwine my arm with his. He grips onto me, pulling me half into his lap. It’s horribly uncomfortable, but I don’t say anything. Enzo’s protectiveness radiates off him, his anger simmering just beneath the surface, and I know that he’sseconds away from snapping. Between the heat, the hunger, and the crew member, he’s on edge.
The van’s interior is old and uncomfortable, the air conditioning barely working. The vibrations from the engine hum beneath us, jostling us into one another and adding to the discomfort. Marcus sits beside me, his arm draped over the back of my seat, but even he seems tense. His calm demeanor is strained, worry evident in the lines on his forehead.
Dylan attempts to lift the mood from the back. "Anyone up for a sing-along? We could pretend we’re on a fun road trip."
"Shut up, Dylan," Enzo snaps. "This isn’t a joke."
Dylan sighs, leaning back. "Just trying to make the best of a bad situation."
Jax doesn’t say a word, his silence louder than any protest. I want to reach out to him, to say something, but I don’t know how to help. The silence continues and I bury my face in Enzo, too tired to do anything else.
As we finally arrive at the venue, the weight of the day presses down on us. The usual pre-show excitement is gone, replaced with a heavy sense of dread. I can already tell that this show is going to be rough.
Inside, the chaos of the crew surrounds us like usual. The small amount of luggage we brought with us is whisked away almost immediately and the band heads backstage to the dressing room. They rush to prepare, using the attached bathroom to rinse off and change, then sitting in the dressing room to get in the right headspace. The familiar parts of the routine offer some comfort, but everyone is still on edge. Jax doesn’t call the band together for their pre-show ritual and by the time anyone else seems to realize he isn’t going to, it’s too late. The band heads to the stage in silence and I feel a pit of concern forming in my stomach.
The show feels off from the start. The energy is low, even though the crowd cheers. Jax’s voice is strained, lacking his usual fire. Marcus’s guitar solos are flawless but hollow. Enzo plays aggressively, almost angrily, and Dylan’s drumming is missing its usual playful spirit. I watch the band and the crowd, alternating between the two, trying to see if the audience notices something is off. The cheering seems just as frantic as ever, but when the band finishes their set, they walk off with barely a goodbye.
Backstage after the show, the tension finally snaps. Jax storms into the dressing room, grabs a glass, and hurls it against the wall. The sound of shattering glass echoes through the room.
"Jax!" I exclaim, holding a hand to my chest like it can calm my heart racing. "What’s going on?"
He doesn’t answer, his chest heaving as he tries to calm down. Marcus and Dylan exchange worried looks while Enzo glares.
"Let’s talk," I say, stepping toward Jax. "Whatever is going on, we can fix it." I gesture towards his bandmates. “We all had a tough day, but we’re in this together.”
Jax turns to me, his eyes filled with frustration and pain. "I’m just... tired of everything falling apart."
"We’re all feeling it. It was a bad day and bad days happen sometimes," Marcus says, his voice steady. "But breaking things won’t fix anything."
