You'll Never Return The Favor
Oh no, look what you've done.
Opening the door to the tour bus in a furious manner, Jack didn't even flinch as it slammed against the side of the bus, probably leaving a dent in the metal.
"Not my fucking problem," he muttered, going up the steps, closing the door in the same manner as when he opened it.
Thankfully, no one was around to hear it.
Everyone else was still at the bar, celebrating yet another sold out show and how well it went.
Whenever they went out, the skunk haired man was always the one who stayed out the longest and partied the hardest, but tonight was the exception to that.
Tonight, he was back before anyone even had the chance to finish their first drink.
Most people were shocked, but didn't question it because of how pissed off the guitarist seemed.
Jack couldn't think straight. Hell, he didn't even want to think at all.
What he needed right now was to find something to calm himself down.
Passing the kitchen area on the way to his bunk, he didn't even think about grabbing alcohol.
Not even that could help him tonight.
The lanky man climbed into his bunk, pulling his laptop out from under his pillows, repositioning himself until he was comfortable, taking deep breaths throughout all of this.
As the laptop was starting up, he reached forward and pulled his curtain shut, not wanting to see anyone for the rest of the night.
Once the device was ready, he clicked on the media player, since the DVD for Home Alone was permanently in the disc slot.
Clicking play, the guitarist felt a wave of calm suddenly wash over him as the movie began to play.
No matter what mood he was in, Home Alone always seemed to improve his mood.
It didn't take long for his thoughts to suddenly cease, his mind now completely focused on mouthing along with the movie and getting every word right.
As the closing credits started to roll, Jack heard voices and laughter starting to approach the bus, bringing him back into reality.
"Shit," he said aloud to himself, acting like a ninja as he quickly shut off the laptop and slid it under his pillow, then getting comfortable yet again.
Within a few seconds, the bus door opened, the laughter vanishing as they all probably saw the dent that Jack had made.
Closing his eyes and putting his hands over his ears, the skunk haired man didn't want to hear what they had to say right now.
He'd been through enough tonight, he would deal with Matt yelling at him over it in the morning.
All he could do was hope that he would leave him alone and not come do it right now.
As the minutes passed, the guitarist stayed like this, trying to focus his mind on any thought that wasn't related to what had happened earlier.
He wasn't sure how long it had been when he finally removed his hands from his ears and opened his eyes.
Glancing over, he could tell through his curtain that all the lights on the bus were off.
It was almost completely silent, the only sounds being the sound of snoring from a few different places across the bus along with the occasional small movement as someone stirred in their slumber.
Closing his eyes again, Jack attempted to fall asleep, tossing and turning for what seemed like hours before he finally gave up.
Laying flat on his back, the guitarist's arms were folded across his chest as he stared at the top of the confined space.
Groaning softly, he knew that he wasn't going to be getting any sleep tonight.
It was probably 3 or 4 in the morning, which meant that he would have to be awake in a matter of hours, but Jack's mind wouldn't seem to let him drift him off just yet.
Honestly, the skunk haired man wished he was asleep right now more than anything.
Taking a deep breath, Jack finally allowed the thoughts of a certain frontman fill his mind, hitting him all at once.
Where could he start?
Almost imediately, his mind answered for him.
The beginning, of course.
Closing his eyes yet again, the guitarist began his journey down memory lane.
"Not my fucking problem," he muttered, going up the steps, closing the door in the same manner as when he opened it.
Thankfully, no one was around to hear it.
Everyone else was still at the bar, celebrating yet another sold out show and how well it went.
Whenever they went out, the skunk haired man was always the one who stayed out the longest and partied the hardest, but tonight was the exception to that.
Tonight, he was back before anyone even had the chance to finish their first drink.
Most people were shocked, but didn't question it because of how pissed off the guitarist seemed.
Jack couldn't think straight. Hell, he didn't even want to think at all.
What he needed right now was to find something to calm himself down.
Passing the kitchen area on the way to his bunk, he didn't even think about grabbing alcohol.
Not even that could help him tonight.
The lanky man climbed into his bunk, pulling his laptop out from under his pillows, repositioning himself until he was comfortable, taking deep breaths throughout all of this.
As the laptop was starting up, he reached forward and pulled his curtain shut, not wanting to see anyone for the rest of the night.
Once the device was ready, he clicked on the media player, since the DVD for Home Alone was permanently in the disc slot.
Clicking play, the guitarist felt a wave of calm suddenly wash over him as the movie began to play.
No matter what mood he was in, Home Alone always seemed to improve his mood.
It didn't take long for his thoughts to suddenly cease, his mind now completely focused on mouthing along with the movie and getting every word right.
As the closing credits started to roll, Jack heard voices and laughter starting to approach the bus, bringing him back into reality.
"Shit," he said aloud to himself, acting like a ninja as he quickly shut off the laptop and slid it under his pillow, then getting comfortable yet again.
Within a few seconds, the bus door opened, the laughter vanishing as they all probably saw the dent that Jack had made.
Closing his eyes and putting his hands over his ears, the skunk haired man didn't want to hear what they had to say right now.
He'd been through enough tonight, he would deal with Matt yelling at him over it in the morning.
All he could do was hope that he would leave him alone and not come do it right now.
As the minutes passed, the guitarist stayed like this, trying to focus his mind on any thought that wasn't related to what had happened earlier.
He wasn't sure how long it had been when he finally removed his hands from his ears and opened his eyes.
Glancing over, he could tell through his curtain that all the lights on the bus were off.
It was almost completely silent, the only sounds being the sound of snoring from a few different places across the bus along with the occasional small movement as someone stirred in their slumber.
Closing his eyes again, Jack attempted to fall asleep, tossing and turning for what seemed like hours before he finally gave up.
Laying flat on his back, the guitarist's arms were folded across his chest as he stared at the top of the confined space.
Groaning softly, he knew that he wasn't going to be getting any sleep tonight.
It was probably 3 or 4 in the morning, which meant that he would have to be awake in a matter of hours, but Jack's mind wouldn't seem to let him drift him off just yet.
Honestly, the skunk haired man wished he was asleep right now more than anything.
Taking a deep breath, Jack finally allowed the thoughts of a certain frontman fill his mind, hitting him all at once.
Where could he start?
Almost imediately, his mind answered for him.
The beginning, of course.
Closing his eyes yet again, the guitarist began his journey down memory lane.
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4/20/14