The next morning was as hectic as always, maybe even moreso.

The band’s tour manager had been running around set all morning, barking out instructions and keeping everyone in line. Quite frankly, it had taken all of Gabe’s will power to refrain from hitting him on the head with a tom.

"Gabe, where is the mix board? It needed to be in the truck ten minutes ago so we can load the desk!"

"Coming!" Gabe growled out as he secured the case for the mixer and dumped it on the trolley.

"I stand by what I said," Ryan laughed to the side. "You need to get laid, man."

Gabe grumbled out an incoherent response. It was too early for him to deal with obnoxious idiots like Ryan who couldn't see he had better things to discuss then sex.

The tour manager came around the side of the truck. "We've got twenty minutes to be out. How much else have we got left?"

Gabe looked down at the clipboard in his hands. "About five items left. Justin is pulling the last truck in now."

"For Christ's sake," The tour manager ran a hand through his hair, stress evident on his face. "The band is supposed to be on the road in half an hour and at this rate, they're not going to have a set."

"They will," Gabe retorted impatiently. "I did inventory last night. All the major equipment is already on its way and Joe was on the road at five this morning to get the stage there in time. This is the last truck."

"Thank Heavens," the manager sighed, before the firm expression came back over his face. "Alright, let's go. The show starts at eight tomorrow and we have nearly eighteen hours ahead of us to get to Seattle and unload."

He wasn't telling Gabe or anyone else anything they didn't already know but Gabe managed to nod his head and refrain from snapping about the manager’s annoying antics.

Within an hour the band would be on the road. Lucky for them, they had nothing but travelling on their schedule today, giving them time to sleep off the hangover that Gabe suspected they would have after last night.

It wasn't uncommon for the boys to go out to different clubs when on tour and bring their conquest of the night back to their hotel rooms. Whilst the roadies held their positions for two reasons, they weren't the only ones subject to the band member's charms.

Soon enough, the crew was on the road. Gabe sat alone in an armchair in the lounge room of the tour bus, attempting to drown out the sound of Drew and Jordan's petty argument.

"Just admit it, you've never done it with Tyler!" Jordan exclaimed.

"At least I'm not the one pining over Nate!" Drew shot back. "You stare at him all day long."

"Well, I'm not whoring myself out to Austin every chance I get!"

"I'm not whoring myself out to anyone!"

"Are you joking?" Jordan scoffed. "Any time he's up for it, you're the first to volunteer. It's like you're in love with him."

"I'm not in love with hi-"

"God, will you guys shut the hell up already?" Gabe ran a hand through his messy hair and down his face in frustration. "You're cattier than the two evil step-sisters."

"Oh, quit your moaning Gabe," Drew laughed. "Everyone knows you're just grumpy because you haven't done it in a while."

Gabe flicked him a look of death and continued scrolling through his phone. "Not everyone needs to have sex to release their emotions, Drew. Sorry your mother taught you to be a whore in order to express yourself."

Jordan laughed and Drew only rolled his eyes, the two falling back into conversation as if Gabe had never spoken at all.

Gabe tuned out for a while and scrolled through uninteresting feed on his phone. He didn’t have any social media accounts and would only occasionally spend his time scrolling through news articles. His phone was old and outdated, an indication of his lack of care for most technology.

"What about Harley?"

Involuntarily, Gabe’s head snapped up at the mention of the anomalous drummer, memories of their brief encounter last night filling his head.

"What about him?"

Drew shrugged. "Don't you think it's kind of strange that he never really hangs around with the guys? It's as if they're not even friends other than when they're playing together."

"I don't know," Jordan shrugged in response. "He seems cool enough. Whenever I see him, that is." He frowned.

"Maybe he doesn't want two pining losers hanging around him," Gabe interjected edgily from his spot on the couch.

"We're not pining losers!" Jordan exclaimed.

A frustrated look came over Gabe’s face as he mimicked, "Oh why won't Nate look at me? Why won't Nate talk to me? Why why why?"

Jordan tossed a pillow at Gabe who snickered. "Shutup Gabe. I don’t sound like that."

He turned back to Drew. "He sure is hot though, don't you think?"

Drew groaned and rolled his eyes again. "Jordan, you think anything with a third limb hanging between its legs is sexually attractive."

"I do not! I just think Harley is really hot."

"Well keep dreamin' buddy. It's rare to get selected for a night with that guy. He barely does it as it is."

Gabe groaned out loud. It was rumour mill around here. "Don't you two have anything better to discuss then your pathetic love lives?"

"Ooh, someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning." Jordan teased.

"More like the wrong side of life." Drew added smugly.

Gabe scowled at them. "I'm not going to spend the next seventeen and a half hours listening to you two whine about your individual conquests."

"Fine," Jordan clapped his hands together and stood up, moving to jump on the chair beside Gabe as he grinned wickedly. "We'll discuss your love life then."

"Please don't."

Jordan ignored him. "Come on Gabe, when's the last time you got any action?"

"I'm not doing this."

Jordan gave him a look and Gabe rolled his eyes, looking back down at his phone with little interest. "Nate. Nashville."

"Nashville?" Jordan exclaimed dramatically. "That was five days ago!"

Gabe glared in the other boy’s direction. "Not everything is about sex, Jordan."

"No," Drew hummed from the corner. "But you know what this job entails and Jordan's right. That's a pretty long time and you know it."

"They have their limits. So do you.”

Drew only wiggled his eyebrows at Gabe who scoffed in disgust, grumbling to himself. "Only seventeen and a half more hours to go."

***

The Seventh Affliction played CenturyLink Field in Seattle the next night.

It was quite the show, with black and silver confetti drowning the screaming audience at the end.

Twenty minutes after their set had concluded and the audience had been ushered out, the crew began bringing the trucks in to bump out.

TSA was originally meant to do two shows in Seattle on the initial tour set, but swapped it out when an opportunity arose to play two shows in New York instead.

The crew began packing up the stage, taking a little more time that night as opposed to the night before since they had two days before the next show. Backstage was alight with energy as the band had chosen to remain behind a little longer and strike up their usual ruckus.

"That was insane, man!" Tyler exclaimed with excitement as he ran into the room, Nate following closely behind.

"I know!" Nate grinned. "Did you see the way those girls were screaming my name? Adding in the B stage was the best choice we made!"

Gabe rolled his eyes at their typical rockstar antics of holding all focus on women and sex. His patience of listening to it was growing thin, not that he had much to begin with.

Austin entered the room a moment later, beads of sweat sticking to the front ends of his curls as he held a polite smile on his face. "Great job guys."

Gabe watched as Austin placed his bass into its case and handed it off to a roadie, offering them a warm smile and thanking them as they took the instrument.

Mark entered the backstage area, looking to each of the boys and grinning. "Great job tonight boys, I think we-where's Harley?"

Glances were thrown around as multiple eyes scanned the room for the missing drummer. Gabe couldn't help but look around with them. The drummer never seemed to stick around after shows.

"Well, anyway," Mark said, moving on. He gathered the boys around him and placed a hand respectively on Austin and Tyler's shoulders. "It was a great show tonight and you should be proud of yourselves. Now, we have two days before the show in Denver and so help me God, if I find you in a bar before show night I'll wring you out harder than a bear in hunting season. Got it?"

The three boys nodded, Tyler and Nate snickering to each other.

Mark sent a warning look to the partners-in-crime duo. "I'm talking to you two especially. Don't make me get out my belt."

"We would never," Tyler smirked. "It's as if you don't trust us, Sterling."

"Believe me Tyler," Mark replied with a tired look. "You and Evans are the last people I trust to behave themselves on the road."

"We'll be good." Tyler grinned. He was always the suck-up to their manager, despite he and Nate being the most troublesome.

Gabe watched the exchange from the corner of his eye. After a year, it had become evident that Mark treated the boys like his sons and vice-versa. The band looked up to Mark as a father-figure and they were always messing around with one another and pushing his buttons. Mark didn't seem to mind as it was clear he had the ability to keep them in line when he needed to.

Mark ruffled Tyler's hair. "I'm going to go check in with the stage director. Don't do anything stupid."

As soon as their manager had left the room, Tyler turned around and smirked. "Alright," he hollered. "I need some action tonight."

Tyler wasted no time surveying the room before his eyes landed on Kyle, a cute brunette who was three years younger than myself.

"You."

Kyle grinned, a blush forming over his cheeks as Tyler walked up to him and whispered something in his ear before leading him over to the exit. Nate wolf-whistled after them with an immature grin as they disappeared out the door.

Nate turned to Austin with a wicked grin. "You in, dude?"

Austin shook his head. "Not tonight, I'm exhausted. I'm just gonna head back to the hotel."

Nate sighed dramatically, looking at Austin as if he has three heads. "Guess it's every man for himself tonight."

Walking over to one of the boys packing up the microphone stand, Nate barely had a conversation with him before the pair were disappearing out the same door Tyler had left through earlier

Gabe sensed a presence beside him as he loaded a case into the van. Mark appeared next to him.

"Gabe," the manager said, the scent of his expensive cologne on his crisp black suit filling the air. "Can you please go pack up the kit? It's the only instrument left on stage and it has to be loaded before the guitars."

Gabe nodded. "Yeah, sure."

Leaving Drew to finish the other equipment, he headed out onto the dark stage, the only light coming from a single spotlight that had been left on.

The stage was deserted as most of the equipment had already been taken backstage, leaving only the drum kit behind on its rise.

Gabe cast a glance towards the abandoned kit and wondered where it's owner disappeared to. No one ever saw Harley leave the stage after a set and it was rare to see him hanging around. An annoying flicker of curiosity sparked in Gabe’s chest.

Squashing it down, he dragged the cases over on the trolley and began to disassemble the drum kit, working quickly and quietly in the dark.

He was in the middle of folding the drum stand when footsteps sounded behind Gabe, causing him to flinch. Whipping around, he found Harley standing behind him, watching with miserable curiosity.

Scowling, Gabe said, "Can I help you?"

The drummer shrugged. "You're the one packing up my drum kit."

"That's my job."

The dark-haired boy stepped closer. "Do you need any help?"

"No."

Despite Gabe’s answer, the drummer took another step forward and crouched down beside him, lifting the snare off its stand and gently placing it into the case.

They worked in silence, Gabe not having a single thing to offer in conversation and vice-versa. Part of him was annoyed that the other boy wouldn’t leave and the other part was curious to know why he was helping.

Placing the last case on the trolley, Gabe stood and started to walk off but Harley called after him. "Aren't you going to thank me?"

Gabe turned around with an annoyed expression. "You volunteered your assistance on your own accord. Why should I thank you for that?"

"It's called being nice."

"I don't need to be nice," Gabe responded coldly. "I need to do my job."

Not bothering to wait for a response, Gabe pushed the trolley towards the exit but when he got there, something made him turn around.

Harley was still standing on the stage, thumbs hooked in his jeans pockets as he stared out into the stadium. Gabe knew that Harley knew he was there but he never said anything.

Dammit.

Clenching his fist by his side, Gabe ground out a passing, "Thankyou."

***

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