He stared down grimly at Jamie, his lips pressed into a hard thin line. For an odd reason, that brought a smile to Jamie’s lips. He was lost in time for a second. He no longer saw the Marshall who had been part of the group who had ruined his life. He was no longer one of the people who had kept him caged in so that he could serve the label.

He was his old friend. But it was a second that didn’t last as long as he wished. The new Marshall was back in an instant. His eyes hardened and glared down at Jamie like he was the source of all their problems.

It wasn’t a far off realization. Jamie had screwed up many things for the band. And he still hadn’t answered for all the fucked up things he’d done. Two years under house arrest was nothing compared to the lives he ruined.

His smile didn’t falter. It was plastered to his face, never wavering though Marshall looked like he wanted to strangle him with both hands.

“Time to go.” That was all he said before he turned and walked out.

Jamie sat up in the uncomfortable leather chair. He’d sunk down in it for the past three hours, trying so hard to fall into a deep slumber and make up for the sleepless nights.

He stretched his arms above his head and yawned. When he opened his eyes, Sam was watching him.

As their eyes met, Sam looked away in a hurry, and ran out of the room like his ass was on fire.

Jamie stared after him, not sure what the fuck had just happened. But he shrugged his shoulders and walked out of the room. The day had been a total waste of time. He could have been doing something more productive like drinking himself to death.

They would have had a better time writing their crap if he wasn’t bringing down the vibe in the room. Then they could have been done with this album in less than a month. They didn’t even have to have him in the music. All they had to do was pretend he was singing in some part, have Sam do it since he was the ‘leading man’ of this bullshit group, and slap his face on the cover.

Easy. Simple. Done.

Fuck. He should have been running this show and perhaps they might get some fucking shit done.

He rushed out of the room and was almost out the building when he noticed someone standing outside. As he came closer, he spotted the short bob of platinum blonde hair and the signature denim jacket.

His upper lip actually curled in disgust.

He pushed the doors open. The humid air hit him, but he could barely feel it.

It was like the sky was falling on him. He stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. His hands curled into fists, yet he couldn't force his body to do anything else. 

The bob of hair came closer. That denim jacket that seemed to tear him in two at the sight of it, fluttered slightly in the wind. She turned and when their eyes met, his frown deepened.

She stared back at him, a look of uncertainty on her face. A silent moment passed between them. A truck loudly chugged by on the street. The voices of the others just inside the studio echoed out onto the street. Jamie couldn't make out any of it and even if he could, he couldn't focus on anything but her. Her and that look of unease. 

She looked confident and self-conscious at the same time. He'd never liked that about her.

He was just about to turn and walk away as if nothing had happened—as if she had never ended up here in front of him. 

"Jamie." Her voice was firm. 

Jamie let out a huff. "What do you want?"

She shook her head in disbelief. "That's what you're going to ask?"

He rolled his eyes. "How the fuck did you even find me?"

Was no one doing their fucking jobs anymore? Was the music industry so fucked that they couldn't keep studios a secret anymore?

It was like the world was intentionally trying to fuck him over. 

When he looked at her, he couldn't help but think about that night. She hadn't changed much except for the dark circles under her eyes and the little weight she'd put on. It was undeniably right in front of his face that she was doing fine. That should have been good enough. But of course he couldn't be happy with that. As much as he wanted himself to suffer, he wanted her to suffer just as much. 

Because even if it was his choice that had been the nail in the coffin, she'd been there. She'd been with him when everything went to shit and she hadn't tried to stop him.

He pinched his bottom lip and looked around at the ground. He tried to find something to focus on as he struggled with his feet. His entire body had shut down on him, deciding to fuck him over as well. 

"Look," she said and took a step forward. "I'm not here to argue. She wants to see you." 

For the first time in what felt like forever, he couldn't think of what to say. His mouth had no filter, but the one time he wished he could say what was on his mind, he couldn't get it out. 

He shuddered to think that she could tell what was going through his head. 

Then, it was there. On the tip of his tongue as if it had always been there. 

"She doesn't need to." The admission felt wrong for some reason. It shouldn't matter though. 

The once calm expression was shattered. "You're a fucking asshole."

He let out a dark laugh. "You're just now noticing? Maybe you should have thought about that before you went and spread your legs."

The door opened and he just knew they were standing behind him. They weren't far away. Maybe they heard what he'd said and maybe they didn't. But he'd riled her up.

Someone, it might have been Marshall, said her name. Cynthia. 

Jamie's gut clenched. He wished he could have blocked that out. Hearing her name suddenly made the situation real. He'd been pretending that this was a nightmare he was being punished with. But this was the real world. He'd been drinking his way through it for so long that now that he was in it, he couldn't tell the difference between the dreams and reality.

"Oh, real mature." Her voice peaked. There was no point in trying to calm her down. He knew from experience that once she was this upset she would only get worse.

And that wasn't what he wanted. He wanted her angry. He wanted her to make a fool of herself. It's what she deserved and what they both deserved.

"Whatever. If you want money for your nose job, just fuck off." He turned, shrugging his shoulders.

He saw them then. Marshall, Grant, and Sam. They openly stared. He didn't have the energy to tell them to fuck off too. They already knew that this was the real him. There was no pretending that they were the happy band that they once were. They'd been pretending for too long and it was time that they finally saw what they were getting themselves into.

"Fine. If she grows up not knowing you, it's your fault!" 

He closed his eyes. He wanted to go back to that dark place. He wanted to fall into the pit of darkness and cold that made him feel like he was a foot away from death. It was the only thing he was asking for. Peace and silence.

She was gone. He didn't care where she went. Or where they went. 

When he opened his eyes, he expected to be alone. But Marshall was looking at him with a hard expression and Grant looked like he wanted to run away.

Beyond them, in the distance, Sam's walking figure was getting smaller. 

Jamie focused on him. The one thing that he had to lock onto was the one thing that had caused everything to fall apart. 

That was giving Sam too much credit. 

The wind swallowed him and he was frozen back over. Rigid and unfeeling. That was how it was supposed to be.

And if none of them could understand that then they could go fuck themselves. He was fine like this.

He was fine.