Page 49 of Electric Wounds
Dylan nods, his usual humor gone. "We need to stick together. We’re stronger that way."
Enzo’s voice is harsh, but there’s concern beneath it. "Get your shit together, Jax. We can’t afford to let this tear us apart."
Jax takes a deep breath, nodding slowly. "You’re right. I’m sorry. I just... need a minute."
He walks out of the room, leaving a heavy silence behind. I look at the others, feeling conflicted. There isn’t anything any of us could do differently, but this still feels like my fault somehow.
"He’ll get through this," I say, determined. “It’s going to be okay.”
Marcus places a hand on my shoulder, his touch reassuring. No one else says anything. We stand there, silently, staring at the shattered glass glinting on the floor.
THIRTY-ONE
FRACTURED HARMONY
Marcus
The tension in the air is thick as we pile into the van after the show. The usual post-performance buzz is missing, replaced by a sense of frustration and defeat. Lily, ever the peacemaker, tries to bridge the gap between us, but Jax's mood is a storm cloud, and Enzo's sharp comments aren’t helping.
"Damn, Jax, you nearly took my head off with that glass," Enzo mutters, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "What are you trying to do, kill us before we even make a comeback?"
Jax shoots him a look that could melt steel. "Shut up, Enzo. You think this is a joke? Everything’s falling apart, and all you do is make it worse."
Enzo’s lips curl into a sneer. "Maybe if you pulled your head out of your ass, things wouldn’t be falling apart."
"Enough," I interject, my voice steady but firm. "We’re all frustrated, but tearing into each other isn’t going to help."
Lily, sitting between Dylan and me, sighs softly. "Look, I know things are tough right now, but we need to stick together. We’re stronger as a unit. Nothing is falling apart. We can goget dinner and the bus should be fixed by tomorrow. Remember earlier, everything was fine then. This is just one setback."
Dylan offers a lopsided grin. "Yeah, guys. It was a bonding experience. Nothing says 'team building' like being crammed into a hot bus together. I feel closer to you fuckers than ever before."
His attempt at humor falls flat, but it’s enough to take the edge off the tension. Jax turns away, staring out the window, while Enzo leans back with a huff, crossing his arms.
The van ride is silent and uncomfortable. The crew driving us throw occasional glances our way but wisely stay quiet. The worn-out seats and barely functioning air conditioning add to the discomfort, making the ride feel even longer. I glance over at Jax, his dark hair falling into his eyes as he glares out the window, his jaw tight with anger. Enzo sits with his arms crossed, radiating frustration, his lean frame tense.
When we finally pull up to the hotel, we’re met with another blow. "I’m sorry," the receptionist says, looking genuinely apologetic. "All our suites are booked. The best we can offer is a room with two queen beds."
"Great," Enzo mutters under his breath. "Just great."
Lily tries to make the best of it, but even she sounds exhausted. "We’ll manage. It’s just for one night, right?"
We trudge up to the room, each of us lost in our own thoughts. The hotel room is small, with two queen beds taking up most of the space. The beige walls and heavy drapes make the room feel even more cramped.
"Guess we’re bunking up," Dylan says, trying to keep things light. "Lily, you can share a bed with Marcus and me. Jax and Enzo can take the other."
Jax, still brooding, shakes his head, staring Dylan down with an angry glare. "No. Lily can stay with Enzo and me. You and Marcus can take the other bed. Alone."
Lily looks conflicted, but nods. She is clearly trying to keep the peace without picking sides. "Okay, if that’s alright with everyone."
It’s not really alright, at least not with Dylan and me, but we’re too tired to argue. As we settle in, the tension between Jax and Enzo is almost tangible. Jax lies stiffly on one side of the bed, his eyes fixed on the ceiling, while Enzo sprawls out on the other side, his arm brushing against Lily, who’s wedged uncomfortably between them.
"Comfy, Lil?" Dylan teases from our bed, trying to keep the mood light.
Lily forces a smile. "I’ve had worse."
The next hour drags on, filled with restless movement, and sighs. No one is getting much sleep. I can hear Jax’s quiet, angry breathing and Enzo’s occasional muttering. In the dim light, I can just make out Lily’s silhouette as she shifts, trying to find a comfortable position. She’s silent, but I can tell from her movements that the tension in her bed is making her uncomfortable.
As the hours pass, I find myself staring at the ceiling, wondering how we’ll get through this. The show earlier had been off, the crowd’s energy muted compared to what we’re used to. Jax’s performance lacked his usual passion, and even Dylan’s drumming felt subdued. Enzo played with an aggression that didn’t match the songs, and I knew we were all feeling the strain. Yet, less than twenty-four hours ago everything was fine. How do we get that version of the band back?
