Everything is absolutely perfect.

The crowd is screaming their names, a sea of admiring faces staring up at the stage as the band plays their song. The undisguised devotion sends a shiver down my spine, my grin growing as cheers fill my ears. This is the life. The warm spotlight beating down on my back, playing side by side with Ian and Mason-

I freeze as my brown eyes dart to Mason. This song was Mason's favorite. He should be singing his heart out right now, eyes squeezed shut and fiery red hair sticking to his face as he grips the mic. That's the sight I'm used to. Instead, he's looking at him, with that helpless puppy look I've gotten far too used to seeing whenever someone mentioned his name.

An ugly feeling rears its head as I notice just how Mason stares at the man. Mason never looked at me that way whenever we had sex. Hell, he never even looked at me like that even when we were in a relationship. That look that's so desperate for affection, approval. The look that makes it undeniable he's in love.

My fingers tighten on the fretboard, my jaw tight as I force my gaze back to the audience, plastering a grin on my face.

I refuse to let him ruin this performance for me. He can take the fame. He can take my fucking boyfriend. But I refuse to let him have this at least.

With renewed passion, my fingers dance on the guitar strings, putting more emotion into my guitar solo than I've ever done before. Which isn't exactly too difficult to do, considering emotion is all I'm full of right now.

And that's what makes it worth it. The roar of a crowd when I'm finished, the way they look up at me. The approval, the attention.

How pathetic you have to get all that from total strangers instead of the man who claimed he loved you.

**

I let out a groan as I turn, grabbing the nearest pillow to put over my head.

"Fucking birds..." I murmur, voice rough from lack of use. For a few seconds I just lay there like that, dozing off before my eyes snap open. Shoving off the pillow, I sit up, eyes blinking groggily as I take in the surrounding room.

Small flat screen TV. Basic wooden furniture. Mini fridge. Random green armchair in the corner. So I was in a hotel room. But how did I get into a hotel room? I wince as my temple suddenly throbs, the pounding in my head giving me a painful reminder of what had happened the night before.

Which... wasn't exactly much. At least that I can remember.

Throwing some not-so-subtle glares at the groupies hanging off Mason's arms. Drinking myself stupid in an attempt to drown out my jealousy along with shrugging off Ian's concern. Then it gets a bit fuzzy. I seem to remember the feeling of warm lips against mine, a vague recollection of getting my brains fucked out of me was thrown in there somewhere as well. But what's new?

With a sigh, I threw off the bedsheets, already moving to get up before realizing I was unable to due to the arms wrapped around my waist.

Wait. Arms?

I spin around, my entire body freezing as my eyes land on a bitterly familiar face. Him. I fucked him?! The same man who I had encouraged Wipeout to kick out because I hated that he was with Mason was currently in bed (still naked by the way) with me.

"Shit... the universe must seriously hate me..." I murmur, running a hand over my face as I try to dig through my memory once again. It gets a bit clearer- I think. Fragments of a drunken argument are floating around and then the next thing I knew, I was kissing him. Or vice versa, I don't really know.

If I were him, I would have strangled myself. I'm kind of pleasantly surprised I'm still alive right now. I think to myself, removing my hand from my face only to be met with his newly opened eyes staring up at me.