Noise is such an interesting thing. Sound, itself, is only the effect of waves bouncing off of each other as well as surrounding objects. However, the morning of the first day of Warped Tour 2014 was all but silent to Rowan's unconscious mind. This might be normal if it weren't for the fact that she was trapped in a small living space with an average capacity of six men, all of whom were in a rock n' roll band and most of whom had slight hangovers to fog their senses as they were to hurry and ready themselves for the day ahead. With all of this being true, however, this almost absolute quiet was definitely out of place.

Rowan awoke with a gasp, having to force herself to come back to reality. ‘Just a dream,’ she chanted to herself, ‘nothing but a dream.’ But much to her dismay worse memories than those of of her twisted subconscious creations floated to the forefront of her thoughts, those of Kellin's wild eyes as he spoke to Rowan in clipped words that she could only allow herself to remember snippets of.

Rubbing clammy fists against bleary eyes Rowan sat up slowly, careful not to gain another bruise to add to the ever-growing collection the new confines of her bunk had caused. “Hello?” She called out, her ears ringing with the suffocating silence. Surely she wasn't alone. Not only would that break the well-thought-out rules instated by the clinic but it also implied she was either unimportant and uncared for or forgotten entirely, neither option comforted the concerned child at all. No one answered and despite her almost paralyzing fear Rowan pushed herself to slide back her curtain, dropping to her feet and instantly feeling the all-consuming stillness in the surrounding air. “Is anyone here?”

Childlike tremors shook Rowan to the bone as she crept toward the front of the bus. The only sounds breaking through were those of Rowan's ragged breaths. Shoving the door out of her way, Rowan emerged into the main living area. Bowls of stagnating milk and boxes of cereal left to stale littered the kitchenette's counter as she passed but they remained the only signs of life yet. Rowan knew somewhere in the back of her mind that she needed to eat soon but felt no hunger and therefore continued to peer around the clearly uninhabited room curiously.

“Kellin?” Yet again her queries were met with no response. Not even Cal was sitting at his post. Now Rowan was more than uncomfortable, she was nearly coming unglued. A muffled bang sliced through the air and Rowan jumped as if bitten, her eyes scanning the room hurriedly for any signs of life. “Hello?!”

“Ro?” She sighed in relief and practically fell onto the couch beside her before she remembered exactly what she'd been trying to forget. Yes, Kellin was here but that didn't mean the previous night was completely in the rear view mirror. He popped into being by way of the door to bunk ally, his hair in disarray and wearing nothing but a pair of grey sweat pants. Rowan felt the sudden and ridiculous urge to run right out the front door. But she needn't worry, it appeared, for Kellin looked weary and perhaps a bit out of it but definitely not angry or even hurt. In fact, he smiled at her slightly before his lips were stretched into a yawn and he cracked his knuckles. “I was wondering when you'd wake up.”

Unsure what to say, Rowan settled for a tight smile in response but she was almost positive it looked about as genuine as a wax figure. “Where is everyone?”

Kellin scratched one hand against his stomach and used the other to shuffle bowls into the small sink. “Sound check I assume,” he told her, “that's where we'll be headed if we get dressed in time.”

Rowan picked her steps cautiously, as if crossing a land mine, as she made her way toward the dining booth. “Shouldn't you be there, too, then?”

He shrugged, shooting her a wicked grin as he poured two bowls of Cheerios, “Haven't you met me? I'm a rebel.”

Despite herself Rowan laughed at that, almost easing right back into the regular routine aside from the little voice in the back of her head telling her that this situation wasn't stable, at any moment she could step on the wrong floorboard and fall right through. “Thanks,” Rowan murmured as Kellin sat across from her and slid one bowl before her.

“Well, today's the first. Big one.” His attempts at casual conversation became increasingly pale so that Rowan could see the obvious tension beneath the lightening surface.

“What am I supposed to do all day?” She'd asked this many times but it was always replied to in a vague way so that she still hadn't the foggiest idea what her schedule would be like.

“That's actually something I wanted to talk to you about,” he answered around a mouthful of cereal. Had Rowan not felt so incredibly nervous she might've chuckled as milk dripped down his chin and he tried to be lazy and lick it off with his tongue rather than reach two feet for a paper towel, resulting in him going cross-eyed and sticking his tongue out at weird angles as he attempted to stretch it long enough to catch the liquid. Righting himself, Kellin continued, “There’s a guy named Kevin Lyman, he created and runs the whole tour. Anyway, if you wanted to we could ask him about you helping out– merch, roadie, whatever you’re up for.”

Rowan chewed the idea over in her mind, that of being separated from her security blanket of people she allowed close—the number at a whopping four men that fit into that category. If not she’d be stuck sitting around all day with nothing to entertain her but herself, something Rowan knew from past experience wasn’t a good situation to be in. Still, could she handle being that exposed to others’ orders and criticism? It was almost laughable to Rowan that she felt so susceptible to outside force nowadays, she’d been through far worse in her childhood than being reprimanded for misplacing a box but somehow it all seemed much harsher now. It was like having a cold; every chill is glacial, every poke feels like a knife, even the smallest tug when combing out your hair resembling God’s fist yanking your curls from your scalp. Rowan used to be tough, brave, strong… now she was nothing but a weak, blubbering, mess. Ashamed by her own frailty, Rowan set her shoulders and could tell just by his curios expression that Kellin could sense her change in demeanor.

“Sure,” she conceded, “if they’d like my help, I’m in.”

“Great.” Unsure whether or not things had smoothed over between them, Rowan didn’t press Kellin with questions or mentions of her nervousness, she just painted on a small smile and gnawed on two soggy pieces of cereal. Kellin clocked the silence but had yet to break it again, just settling for observing her. Finally the quiet got to be too much, there were too many things floating through the air that needed to be put into words. “I’m sorry, Ro.”

Rowan, shocked, had to suppress a cringe at the nickname, made uncomfortable by the idea of trusting the little things reminiscent of the calm they left behind with Katelynne in place of the storm they faced now. “What the hell could you possibly be sorry for?”

Kellin sighed, “For last night.”

There it was, the elephant in the room had been shoved beneath a spotlight and they both tried to cope, planning what to say next carefully. Just as Jesse had pointed out, both of them were concerned with nothing more than the other’s feelings.

“It was my fault,” Rowan replied dejectedly, part of her wishing they could return to the awkward non-conversation prior. She spent the next several moments of silence forcing herself to consume a third of the bowl of mush that was once Cheerios.

Meanwhile a pang of surprise, regret, and pain shot through Kellin, reverberating down to his marrow. He knew now that he’d given her that impression, her obvious upset was his doing. Shamefaced, Kellin sighed again, his elbows resting on the table and his face buried in his hands. “No, Rowan, it’s not. It’s mine. I just… I can’t handle the thought of you taking steps backward, even more so if it was because of something I’d done. I’d never forgive myself for hurting you. I need you, Rowan, and I need you to be okay,” he looked up at her, his eyes locking with hers, “I can’t lose you, kid.”

Swallowing back a gourmet meal’s worth of words, Rowan spit out the fast food version, “I’m not going anywhere.” That was enough to allow them a mutually calmed breath of air, both of them relieved to have the once crushing weight lightened. “Aside from the bathroom,” her grin was genuine this time, Kellin following suit, “because there’s no way in heaven or hell I’m going out looking like this.”

Rowan made a gesture toward her oversized brown tee, damp around the neck where her tears had run in her sleep, and knotted locks. Her bare toes were decorated with ten different polish colors as Katelynne had insisted one day on doing her nails and Rowan—who’d been busy reading Eloise at The Plaza to Copeland—allowed her little sister to join in the fun by picking out the colors. Needless to say the bathroom had been a wreck afterwards and the cute little pink onesie Cope’d been lounging around in would forever look like a unicorn had puked a rainbow onto it.

“Well, we can’t all look as fabulous as me,” Kellin joked, his nose turned up as if he were a king examining a peasant. It contrasted magnificently with his messy bed-head, lack of shirt, and the mouthful of Cheerios he used as ammunition while speaking.

Coughing to hide her giggles, Rowan nodded as she pasted on a faux-serious expression before hopping up from the table, trying to get away before she exploded with suppressed mirth.

“Hey,” Kellin stopped her by reaching for her hand, making Rowan freeze up in panic, but as she paused he simply stood and wrapped her up in a hug. Warm, safe, comforting. Rowan allowed herself to be engulfed by the peacefulness, even letting a small, genuine smile twist up the corners of her lips. One rebel tear slipped down her cheek and she hurried to curl closer into his embrace to keep him from seeing, the lone stray disappearing against Kellin’s chest as she nuzzled there cosily. “Love you, kiddo,” he murmured, his voice reverberating through his chest. The sound was like a fingerprint, it was something none other could ever replicate and each time she heard it Rowan was pulled through various memories that involved Kellin, all of which gave her reassurance in her security.

"You too, old man," she replied, laughing to herself as she pulled away to see his responding pout.

With a playful shove, Kellin sent her off while he contended with the dishes. Rowan's steps felt lighter, softer, with the weight of her guilt eased from her shoulders ever so slightly. Kellin followed her toward the bags placed in the back lounge and began digging through his for, well, whatever it was a Kellin wore, his back turned to give off a semblance of privacy for Rowan to get ready. She tugged her smaller suitcase from the back and pulled free the black tee that read Beverly Hills: 666 and, as the New Rowan was something she felt determined to embrace, a pair of high-waited faux-leather shorts. Knowing how much of her skin the items would expose she caved, deciding to get the agony over with and rooted around in the suitcase full of Katelynne’s sneaky finds. Rowan found a black cardigan that was paper-thin, peachy tights that would make her skin appear unblemished, and a handful of silvery, black, white, and red bracelets in case she somehow got her sleeve pulled on.

Deciding they’d do Rowan slid them on, turning to face Kellin. That mysterious heft held off her shoulders, Rowan could now laugh properly at the face Kellin made as he sensed her eyes on him and turned to face her. The expression is something quite hard to describe, Rowan wasn’t sure there were words in the dictionary to explain. The best she could come up with was something of a cross between a man choking on a full T-bone steak and a mother watching her daughter shop for a wedding gown. Though that still didn’t cover the shade of white his face had gone, nor the hint of a look in his eyes that was almost pleading with her to change.

“Goddammit,” Kellin moaned, slumping to sit on the couch and much resembling a toddler told they couldn’t have a cookie unless they ate their spinach, “why couldn’t you be ugly? It’d make my life so much easier.”

Rowan’s giggles ceased, her face now looking a good deal like the one Kellin’d made to lick the milk off his chin, “What do you mean?”

Kellin pulled his hands away where they’d been shielding his face, looking up at his daughter in mirrored confusion, “What’s what mean?”

“I mean,” Rowan struggled to find the words, now having folded her arms over her chest in a self-conscious manner, “I’m not exactly good looking, I don’t get it.”

Kellin blanched, standing up and rushing over to her between one blink and the next. He put his hands on her shoulders and knelt down so they were closer to eye-level, though Rowan was studiously trying to avoid meeting his gaze, her expression now that of someone being made fun of, “Are you serious?”

Rowan rubbed her hands against her crossed arms as if chilled, “I already know I’m not anything special, Kell, you just surprised me is all. It’s nothing–”

Kellin blinked a few times, more perplexed than ever, “You’re insane.” Rowan’s eyes flashed to his looking wounded, and Kellin continued to explain, “Well, you are if you really can’t see yourself. That or you’re blind. There’s no way you could look in the mirror and not see how spectacularly, uniquely, unequivocally beautiful you are.”

Rowan took in a deep breath, readying herself to say things she’d vowed to never admit. “Kellin,” even without saying it she had his full attention and she couldn't tell if that comforted or terrified her, “you… you don’t see what I see.”

“I’m looking right at you, of course I–”

“No,” she cut him off quietly, “not like that. Not with your eyes, that’s not how a girl like me looks at herself. I can’t anymore. I don’t see in shapes and colors when I look in a mirror, I see words and memories and secrets and fears and… and…” Rowan sighed, her knees giving way beneath her so that she was forced to sit on the couch, now perfectly level with Kellin on his knees. “It’s hard to explain,” which was one of the reasons she’d sworn never to attempt it, but as she looked at Kellin and saw his mingled pain on her behalf and an undeniable yearning to be able to understand her mind was shut off, words pouring from her heart through her lips without being sifted free of things she once held deep inside a locked cage. “I can’t remember the last time I looked in a mirror and looked at me, I go near a reflective surface and half of me is so appalled at what I see that I want to run but the other half is busy looking at every scar, bruise, and burn and dredging up the memories that they’re tied to. I look at my shoulder to check if the carving of the word plague is hidden and all I see is the color of the shirt Scott was wearing when he put it there, and all I hear is him laughing. Or I go to make sure my hair isn’t a mess and end up with a blade in my hand, determined to cut away all of the disgusting weight and bones and blood and anything near it that’s keeping me alive. I can’t even look at my fingernails without wondering if my arms are visible to anyone around me, partly so that I could cover up and keep the secret and a little bit because I might just take the jacket off because I wonder what an outsider would think. I’m so used to the monster I see that I don’t remember what it feels like to look at it all with shock and horror that I should. I can’t even remember how it felt the first time I looked down at my own body and realized I had ruined the one thing that I’d be stuck with until death.” Rowan had to catch her breath, her eyes screwed up shut as she unveiled memories she’d kept buried deep, with good reason, “I don’t even remember what I look like anymore, all I see is skin that’s ruined and fat that needs to go and bones that stick out grossly and the hands that caused most of it.”

It was quiet again, neither of them feeling particularly inclined to speak as they let the words settle in. Finally Kellin took a deep breath, hooking his finger beneath Rowan’s chin to guide her to meet his eyes again as she’d been looking off for some time, “Then I’ll tell you.” Kellin didn’t bother asking as he lifted her tiny frame and set her in his lap, taking her place on the couch and beginning a calming rhythm of running his hands through her hair and rubbing her back. “Close your eyes,” he instructed her, receiving a look of incredulity, “humor me.” She did, she closed her eyes and leaned against his chest as if she were planning to take a nap. Kellin had to speak around a lump in his throat that stubbornly stayed put, “Now, picture this. You know when you make chocolate milk and you triple the amount of Nesquick you’re supposed to put in? You end up with a cup that tastes more like drinking liquified fudge, and the color is so inviting. Think about walking along the stretch of road that leads to your favorite place, see the shade of the bark wrapped around the tree at the corner? It’s just one layer out of sometimes hundreds that are keeping safe a little skinny twig that the tree started out as. Those two browns mixed with the color of rich earth you use to plant a seed make up the color of your hair.”

Rowan had gotten lost, images of these enchanting things dancing before her eyes, but the last sentence drew her back to reality with a harsh tug, pulling a scoff from her lungs in the process. Kellin noted the sound, a small smirk torqued the corners of his lips as he went on.

“Close your eyes again,” he chided, receiving a mumbling of expletives from the occupant of his lap, “yeah, yeah, yeah, just do it.” She sighed and Kellin, his chin resting on top of her head, decided that was the closest he’d get to a white flag. “When you lived in Seattle, I bet you saw a lot of snow. Imagine that pure white, that kind of crisp, clean white. And then picture marshmallows, the big kind not the shrimpy ones that disappear as soon as you but them in hot coca, that soft, sweet sort of white. Mix all that with the kind of white you find in homemade vanilla ice cream on a hot day and you get a pretty close match to the pallor of your skin.” Rowan was tempted to object, reminding him of the fact that whatever the shade her skin was it couldn’t be seen through a haze of cuts and singes, but he went on before she had a chance. “Now this one’s fun,” Rowan also wanted to contest this point but again Kellin didn’t give her the chance, “have you ever seen a painting or picture or something of a fairy? Not like Tinkerbelle, like a legit fairy. The kind painted by tortured, gothic artists who prefer to live in the ethereal world than ours. That kind of fairy. They have small bodies, slender limbs and little hands and feet. Their faces are full of tiny features, a button nose and little ears, yours aren’t pointy though, sadly,” he added in an aside that made Rowan giggle, “but fairies still have this cherubic, childish roundness to their faces, somehow even with this unrealistic amount of power they possess they still look innocent and alluring and innocuous. You have that effect on people, Ro,” to this Rowan was dying to roll her eyes and make some sarcastic comment but she was also too wrapped up in this mental journey. “You don’t even realize it but you do, I noticed it the first time I ever saw you. It’s like a vibe you give off, this, for lack of a better word, aura. I just wanted to get closer and hear you talk and see you smile, it was all I could think about for three whole weeks before I saw you again, just that I was desperate to feel that sense of peace you unknowingly gave me when I was one bad joke away from offing myself. And then I saw you and it just got stronger. I needed to be near you, I depended on the sense of relaxation, the feeling that as long as you were there everything was copacetic. It’s funny,” he mused, “that was one of the first things Vic and Matty noticed, too. They talked about how you seemed closed off, shut up in a tiny box, but that you still exuded this air of welcome. Like, they knew not to push you but they still wanted to anyway just to hear you come out of your shell. After that they mentioned how beautiful you are,” he said this in a rushed voice, as if trying to spit it out before Rowan could catch up and realize what’d been said. “Anyway, I haven’t even gotten to the best part.” A smile was evident in Kellin’s voice, one that coaxed Rowan to stop wringing her hands and just immerse herself in his long-winded story. “The thing I noticed next, something that caught me totally off guard, happened when you first looked at me. Try to picture the sky just before it becomes night, that navy hue when the sky is the most gorgeous and art-worthy. Then imagine the color of really fresh, rich blueberries. Plus a sort of cast of sapphire. But the part that holds your gaze is the sense of staring right into a black hole, something dark with this inexorable, powerful sense of the imminent point in which you'll be sucked in past the point of return. And you know, even if you can’t figure out how you do, that it won’t be the last time you let yourself get pulled in. And you’re totally okay with it. Isn’t that wild? You can understand the fact that you’ve surrendered, that not only you control you anymore, you are obsequious to this thing that you can’t even fully wrap your head around, and you are absolutely fine with it. That’s only a fraction of what it was like to look into your eyes that day. And you’ll never be able to comprehend how much it meant to me. I remember deciding that day that I wouldn’t let go of you. In one way or another, I’d find a way to find you. I wish you could see you like I do, that you could look at yourself for just a minute as others see you. You’re breathtaking, kid, and you can’t even see it. And that breaks my heart.”

Thinking about it now, Kellin could plainly see Rowan with purple crescents bordering her eyes like she was recovering from a broken nose, her skin was almost transparent and it’d been like ice to the touch, not to mention the fact that she’d been covered in bruises that fit perfectly to the shape of handprints so obviously that it made Kellin sick. The night before he’d been torn apart by the thought that’d burrowed into his brain, the idea that he was only doing her harm, that she’d be better off without him. But now that he harkened back to those dreadful days of worrying if she’d be alive the next time he saw her, he knew that surely Rowan was better here. Even if there were set backs or relapses at least she had someone who loved her more than his own life to help pick up the pieces. Kellin also recalled her file, the reservations and concerns it’d brought to light, but he pushed those thoughts away, knowing above all else that right here, right now was what mattered.

Whilst Kellin worried over the fear of doing something wrong to her, Rowan was completely submerged in the words that had flooded her brain. Kellin’s words. Words about things she possessed and was compiled of that she’d never before even considered. Where Kellin had memories of his mother telling her friends how handsome and talented her son was, Rowan had those of her mother complaining to her friends about the regret she held for not getting an abortion as Rowan’s father had wanted. In place of Kellin’s childhood full of school photos and pictures drawn in class stuck to a fridge to commemorate memories and achievements, Rowan’s was filled with to-do lists and bruises to remind her of the consequences of her faults. But none of it was important right then. In fact, Rowan had never felt so proud to be wearing her skin nor so grateful for happening to wait in those uncomfortable-as-fuck waiting room chairs that Monday at the end of April.

Rowan didn’t even realize just how deeply his tale had reached her until she heard a sob rip through the room and noticed belatedly that it came from her own mouth. Kellin’s arms instantly wrapped tighter around her and Rowan allowed him to console her, the solace he offered was the only she’d ever allowed herself to accept, and in that moment she needed it more than ever. Rowan twisted so that she could curl her arms around his neck, hiding in the shoulder of the loose tank top he donned. Kellin returned to running one hand up and down her back and weaving the other through her curls. “I– I don’t–”

“I know,” Kellin assured her softly, both of them speaking as if standing in the middle of a funeral procession, “it’s okay, Beautiful, you’re alright.”

The only sound in the small lounge remained Rowan’s hushed cries as she stifled the sound against Kellin’s collarbone though the latter wasn’t at all worried about the volume, only that she was letting him in. Though they were leaps and bounds from where they began Kellin knew that there were things she had yet to let go to him, walls she hadn’t yet allowed him to demolish, but every day seemed to bring them one step closer. Kellin began humming which, as it often seemed to, resulted in Rowan’s tears lightening as she hiccuped and sniffled, still slipping a sob through every once in a while. The effect being good, Kellin went one step further, singing to her a few pieces of a song that often reminded him of her.

“It’s on the tip of my tongue,
You know you’re way too young
To have someone lie to you.”

Rowan’s tears slowed more with every note, enraptured as she often was by the sound of his voice. Not just his voice, his singing voice. She felt badly for anyone who had only heard him through headphones as it didn’t do the sound justice. Now, even as she stayed completely attached to Kellin in fear and pain and happiness and gratitude, she just listened.

“I’m not the one, I’m not the one who wants to hurt you.
I’m not the one, I’m not the one who wants to hurt you.
You’d better find somebody else and get a hold of yourself.
I’m not the one, I’m not the one who wants to hurt you.”

Kellin felt Rowan’s shoulders lose their rigidity, her posture becoming ever more relaxed as she let Kellin do what a father should, something Rowan didn’t take for granted one bit. She drank in every single feeling of protection, the sensation of his throat vibrating against her arm as he sang to her, the sound of every syllable he released, the tattoo that ran across his chest in script, even the smell of his cologne mixed with the shampoo and body wash and detergent and all of the other little things that made the scent completely unique.

“You’re way too young to be broken.
You’re way too young to fall apart.
You’re way too young to play these games,
But you’d better start, but you'd better start.”

Kellin tried to memorize the feeling of her this small, this dependent, this broken. Not necessarily because he wanted to remember her pain but because one day when he was old and grey and his framed records were collecting dust he wanted to be able to close his eyes and be here. Someday when Rowan had a child of her own to comfort and provide with the love she never received at that age, when Copeland was off to college and his stepsons were busy taking the world by storm however they chose, he just wanted to be able to hold his wife’s hand and remember what it felt like to realize that peace wasn’t something to take advantage of, it was something to cherish. That love was a birth right, not something that should be earned or withheld. That being someone’s savior was more than just being there to hold their hand, it was all the ways you could be there without ever knowing the person’s name. That hatred was bred of deceit and mistreatment and though it could never truly be washed away it could be overshadowed and surmounted with time and someone there to remind you what it feels like to be cared for instead. That family wasn’t born of blood, it was born of the kind of passionately, unabashedly, all consuming love that one feels upon being able to let someone that close to your heart. That an old soul trapped in a child’s body with hypnotic eyes and a horrid history could one day be an old woman with grey hair and powerful orbs hidden behind reading glasses and nothing but memories of bliss to recount. Because in that little moment, hiding away in the back of his tour bus and ditching sound check to hold his new daughter with all of the strength and care he had to offer, he knew these things to be true. Without noticing, Kellin had skipped lines of the song and landed on a few that he held close to his heart.

“Drink the poison lightly,
‘Cause there are deeper and darker things than you.
I know ‘cause I’ve been there too.
I know it might seem frightening
To have the world fall apart right under your shoes.
Trust me, you’ll make it through.”

Rowan was so calm that she worried she might’ve fallen asleep and been dreaming because—even though her cheeks were coated in drying tears and her hands trembled as each word sung pierced the carefully cultivated façade built up through years of pain and torment—she couldn’t remember a time she felt more safe. Even as she knew that the day ahead would be full of unpredictables and indefinites, Rowan felt secure, invulnerable, and even a little bit indestructible.

“I’m not the one, I’m not the one who wants to hurt you.
I’m not the one, I’m not the one who wants to hurt you.
You’d better find somebody else and get a hold of yourself.
I’m not the one, I’m not the one who wants to hurt you.”

For a while after Kellin’s voice trailed off it was silent. Finally Rowan had regained the ability to talk but she still couldn’t find the words. This resulted in her chewing her lip raw before opening her mouth a handful of times and snapping it shut once again in a manner reminiscent of a fish desperate for water. They stayed like that until she eventually spat out what she could: “Thank you.” Another silence stretched on for a beat before she continued. “Kellin, I can’t say it enough. I don’t know how to repay you and Katelynne for all you’ve done. Taking in a basket case like me couldn’t have been an easy decision to make, but I’d be dead without you. I– I don’t even know now what life would be like anymore if you weren’t part of it—”

“Then it’s a good thing you don't need to. And don’t ever think even for a second that you’re anything less than a gift to us, alright? You have nothing to repay us for. We’re family, Rowan, and this is what family does,” Kellin concluded, eliciting a sort of smile from Rowan that he’d never been able to catch before. “Now, your hair is still a mess,” he went on, “hand me your brush.”

Happy to follow the change in tone Rowan dug through her bag and extracted the brush which she passed to Kellin. She turned her back to him, still sitting on his lap, and allowed Kellin to work his very girly magic. A few minutes later her hair fell in soft, loose curls that had grown out to reach Rowan’s hips, and Kellin took the time to braid a small section of hair on the left back from the front so that it exposed her face more.

“Just stunning dah-ling,” Kellin announced in a voice that was a mix of posh british and gay man carrying a poodle. Rowan laughed heartily as she scooped up her toothbrush and paste. Still not allowed in a bathroom alone, Kellin followed, “Don’t use the water form the sink to brush, grab bottles.” A little confused, Rowan brought along two miniature water bottles from the fridge, following Kellin’s lead into the teensy bathroom. They brushed and all, getting completely ready before Kellin left and returned with her meds. After administering the shot, without much of a cringe anymore on either participant’s part, Kellin packed it away. “I’m gonna text the guys, find out what’s going on, you coming out?”

As Kellin paused at the small door, Rowan nodded, “Yeah, just one sec.”

Kellin nodded then, ducking into the main area where he’d supposedly left his phone. Rowan, however, turned to face the mirror. Granted it was cracked a bit in the corner and smudged with what looked like shampoo that someone had put on there to write a message in, all that remained of the note was what looked like ‘ha qot yoV!’ But nevertheless she took that moment to look at the girl staring back at her, one who looked frightened and a little tired, but she tried to look past it all, attempting to see big-picture wise. She was small, short and tiny and there were places where her bones looked sharp enough to cut through steel. It was evident that she was underweight, in fact she could almost pass as a cancer patient herself– no, no. She shook it off, trying again to look without preconceived opinions. Small, yes, tiny even. She could almost see the fairy reference in, as Kellin called it, her button nose and small ears, the latter of which were adorned with two little studs each, the thought of which made her smile. There, when she smiled she didn’t seem so atrocious. Her hair looked nice, her lips were full and pink, maybe her eyes were nice enough. Scars, everywhere, from the one running from her right eyebrow to her hairline—had Kellin known not to pull back the right side of her hair, had he made that decision purposefully?—all the way to the thin scars in her palms where she’d received stitches as a blade had been embedded there upon being found after her mother’s death. Stop. Wait. She backtracked, through the memories and back to looking at the girl impartially. Tiny, pixie-like features, pretty hair and lips, wide, dark blue eyes that still appeared glassy from her earlier bout of crying.

“Rowan! Gates open in an hour! We’ve gotta go before the crowds hit!” Kellin called through the bus, startling her and kicking Rowan into flat out running to where he stood in the living room, causing Kellin to chuckle, “Excited then?”

“Well, duh,” Rowan rolled her eyes and it was the small things like this that reminded Kellin that, though she’d seen more suffering than most have even on their deathbeds, she was still a teenage girl.

“Well, then go grab your phone and stuff, duh,” he retorted, mimicking her voice in an exaggeratedly feminine way. This earned Kellin another eye roll before Rowan rushed to grab her phone, headphones, and the small piece of paper she’d copied the band names and venues to late the night before as a way of distracting herself. Stuffing these things into pockets and darting back toward the front door, Rowan whizzed past Kellin like the character that never seems to exist in horror films but we all scream about wishing they did. Laughing boisterously and freely, Kellin caught up and pushed open the door for her, both Quinn’s accosted with the full onslaught of images that the first day of tour brought along.

---

Whatever vision Rowan had created to represent the Warped Tour in her head, this wasn’t it. It was much more chaotic, much more hectic, much more alive, and much more enticing. She found herself bouncing on the balls of her feet impatiently as Kellin made her wait by the set-up crew’s truck to run back and grab their passes which he’d forgotten. Impatience really was the best word for it, the way she fiddled with her dozens of stacked cloth and string and metal bracelets, her eyes darting in ten different directions at once; the way she rocked back and forth on her feet, each time attempting to see more than she had the time before; the way she bit her lower lip repeatedly and found herself smiling at strangers as they passed. Well, maybe she was feeling a little more than a little bit indestructible after all.

“Hey,” Kellin caught up to where she waited, holding out a lanyard with a backstage pass hanging from it, “put this on and keep it on, I don’t want you getting stuck out in the venue, alright?”

Rowan obeyed, sliding the pass on in a split second and returning instantly to bobbing up and down excitedly, “If the gates don’t open for an hour, what are we going out there for?”

“This’ll be the only chance I get to show you around, once kids come in it’ll be impossible for me to so much as breathe without needing a guard nearby,” Kellin made a show of shivering but the look of joy in his eyes told Rowan it was an act, he was just as elated as she.

Rowan allowed no more than three inches between them as she followed Kellin past security guards and badge checks, reaching out to take his hand once they fully emerged in the open area that was already bustling with activity. Like bees these people all buzzed around carrying heavy tents from here to assemble over there, maneuvering big boxes in stacks from one patch of land to the next in a way that looked haphazard to an outsider but seemed to be sensible and orderly in the eyes of those arranging them. Kellin was already walking, seeming to know where he was going without question, and Rowan followed mechanically, not worrying at all about where she stepped or where she was headed, too busy trying to decipher who did what and what she might be asked to help with if Kevin agreed. They stopped short at a tent already erected, seemingly vacant until a head popped up from below the table. It was a guy, his hair was shaggy, skin covered in tattoos (more than Andy, less than Ronnie), and there was what looked like a small stud glimmering just below his right eye and, as she was studying him, the guy gave her a warm grin.

“Hey, man,” the shadowy tent’s inhabitant said, catching Kellin’s attention instantly as they exchanged greetings and, you guessed it, a bro hug.

“Rowan,” Kellin began, “this is Tony. Tony, Rowan.”

Rowan smiled kindly back at him, unable to distinguish whether the smile was a choice or just an automatic reaction to Tony’s own infectious grin. “Nice to meet you,” she told him, extending her hand so openly and calmly that both Kellin and Rowan herself were stunned.

“You too,” Tony replied, his smile broadening as he shook her hand in return. “Let’s hope some of your politeness rubs off on Kellin,” he added with a smirk. Rowan laughed, which seemed to be the thing he wanted her to do because his grin grew even more which possibly defied the laws of what is and isn’t possible.

Kellin grumbled under his breath about Tony being hypocritical but neither part of his company were paying it any mind. Eventually he sighed, turning to Rowan, “Tony’s in Pierce the Veil with Vic.”

“Oh, cool,” Rowan said, retaining her grin while making a mental note to do more research about which people belonged to which bands. “So how do we find out when you guys are playing?”

“Are you coming to see us play?” Tony beamed at the thought, making Rowan feel even more comfortable around him, put at ease at the thought that Tony wanted her around.

“I hope so,” she told him, her eyes flickering up to Kellin’s.

“Hold on,” Tony said, ducking beneath the table again and reappearing a moment later with a piece of paper. “This is the schedule we got from our tour manager this morning,” he told her, spreading the wrinkled paper out on the table and spinning it around so that Rowan could get a better look.
Rowan skimmed the words, looking for names that stood out.

Sleeping With Sirens - MS1. Playing: 2nd.

Pierce the Veil - MS2. Playing: 5th.

Memphis May Fire - MS1. Playing: 3rd.

Black Veil Brides - MS2. Playing: 3rd.

Falling in Reverse - MS1. Playing: 4th

Escape the Fate - Monster Energy Stage. Playing: 1st.

Those were the only bands she knew members of, therefore the only ones that drew her eye. She knew, thanks to Kellin giving her a run-down of how this tour would go, that MS stood for Main Stage which there were apparently two of. Though she was still a little unclear on the details she could tell that she would definitely be able to see both Kellin’s and Tony and Vic’s bands play. “Awesome,” she said as she leaned back from hovering above the paper, “I can’t wait to see you guys play.”

Kellin was proud to see that Rowan seemed to quickly be sliding into a new sort of comfort zone here, already using typical ‘teenage’ words and trying out the lingo. He could see her ability to adapt quickly taking shape, after all her life had been one filled with 180s and changes at the drop of a hat meaning she’d had to develop and strengthen an inner muscle that most of us existed with on a Low setting. Or perhaps it was that she just fit here. Maybe it wasn’t just her ability to conform to her surroundings, maybe it was simply that they’d found a place she didn’t have to change to fit into.

“Tone, do you know where the caf is?” Kellin asked, catching Rowan’s attention as well.

“Yeah, just around the Tilly’s tent,” Tony responded.

“Great, I’m trying to show Rowan around the venue before the kids come in. See you later,” Kellin and Tony did some weird lock-hands-pull-opponent-toward-your-chest thing and they were on their way again, leaving Tony to resume his mysterious job of digging around in the boxes below the table for a mysterious and elusive object.

“This is insane,” Rowan murmured to herself, taking in the sights and sounds that hummed in the air around her. Who would’ve believed the little girl with nothing to lose but the blade in her hand would be strolling around a punk rock tour venue, hand in hand with her punk rock father?

“You get used to it eventually,” Kellin replied in amusement, clearly enjoying this as if it were his own first time here. He thought of Copeland’s first Christmas, he’d surprised himself by being more elated to watch her giggle and coo about her new stuffed animals and toys than he could ever remember being about open in this own presents. The current situation was similar, he could hardly take his eyes off Rowan as she took in her surroundings, afraid to miss even the slightest flicker of excitement in her eyes. He felt this might partially be because he loved to see her happy, also because he was sharing something so near and dear to his own heart with her, but mostly because it felt like he was giving her a gift. Not a material thing. More so that he was handing her a kind of treasure she’d never been given before, happy memories to look back on one day.

---

Rowan followed Kellin through a maze of equipment, trucks, and various members of the tour, careful not to lose him in the crowd. She’d been given the grand tour, met Sleeping With Sirens’s techs and even swiped a cookie from the catering table. She was in another world from any she’d ever known. Not a single person stood still, everyone was rushing one place or another, all fulfilling whatever task they were delegated, every job fitting together like puzzle pieces to construct this massive thing that drew such attention.

Kellin had been careful to get Rowan back behind the fence that separated the bands from the fans before the tour patrons had been allowed in, knowing above all else that despite her obvious progress Rowan would not be able to handle that just yet. He’d drug her back to the bus and allowed her to take a break from all the hustle and bustle while he warmed up in the back. All of these little things coupled together meant that Rowan had yet to be exposed to the full force of the packed venue. Something Kellin was conscious of whether Rowan had noticed or not.

As they approached his band’s scheduled stage call, Kellin began to get nervous on his daughter’s account. She’d taken everything so far in stride, smiling and laughing and smarting off at him in a way that reminded him of the sarcastic, playful Rowan he’d first seen in Group. The difference was that this Rowan was real, where the old one was only a front. Still he was weary of how she would react to the sea of abrasive, bold, enthusiastic people they were about to witness.

Ten minutes to stage call: Kellin and Rowan found the guys messing around with those of Black Veil Brides, apparently trying to play soccer, a feat Rowan found comical as the Black Veil boys were in various layers of leather and makeup. Nine minutes: Jesse tried to spray the others down with a water hose they passed, only Rowan, Gabe, and Justin got away safely. Eight minutes: Kellin stopped by their equipment, allowing Rowan to have fun as the guys all let her hold their instruments and Gabe gave her one of his spare sets of drumsticks. Seven minutes: Vic, bored with sitting around, came to wish Kellin’s crew good luck and offer to hang to the side with Rowan, an offer she jumped on with embarrassing force and speed. Six minutes: Vic and Rowan chatted about meeting Tony, Vic telling her about his other bandmates and answering Rowan’s random questions about his band and their music. Five minutes: Kellin jogged back to their bus, having forgotten his phone again, making that the third time in one day he’d done so. Four minutes: The guys of Sleeping With Sirens drank water, warmed up, and joined in Rowan and Vic’s conversation about what of the tour she’d seen so far. Three minutes: Kellin stole Rowan away, motioning her off to the side so that he could get at eye-level with her and ask if she was okay. Two minutes: Kellin took Rowan’s hand and walked, along with Vic, to be just out of the crowd’s view but near enough to the stage that Rowan got a good peek. One minute: Kellin locked eyes with Vic and a silent conversation passed between them, one that consisted of Kellin asking Vic to keep Ro safe and Vic agreeing, before he kissed Rowan’s forehead and told her to stay by Vic no matter what.

Show time.

Gabe jogged out first, taking his seat behind his kit and banging around to make the already rowdy crowed even more riled up. Jack followed, strumming a few strings and waving animatedly to the sea of people cheering below. Justin and Jesse went next, all of them falling into predesignated stage-places that seemed as much a home to them as their own houses. Finally Kellin took a step into view, the crowd responding with a cacophony of pure exhilaration, but paused to give Rowan a look over his shoulder that told her without a single word just how incredibly important that solitary second was to him. She gave him a smile so wide her cheeks ached, waving him off and instantly missing his presence as he ran out on stage and began jumping around like a toddler getting impatient in a museum. Vic, having seen Kellin’s stage antics many a time, took Rowan’s hand and lead her to be side-stage, giving her a perfect view of not only the band but also the fans and various security guards. Seemingly caught up in the moment, Vic felt Rowan’s grip on his hand tighten as Kellin threw his mic in the air and caught it again without missing a beat, though Rowan herself didn’t even notice her reaction. Vic was equal parts surprised and pleased to find Rowan hadn’t yet let go of his hand, only leaning forward occasionally to get a better view of her father’s ridiculous stage stunts. He also noticed that Kellin’s energy and intensity were even more forceful than usual, something Vic attributed to either Kellin’s intent of impressing Rowan or perhaps just fueled by her company.

As the first song—Satellites—drew to a close, Rowan could feel the palpable anticipation in waves that undulated from the crowd below. She vaguely took note of the banter taking place between Jesse and Kellin on stage as they talked to the crowd, more focused on the way Kellin shot glances her way every other second, his thoughts split between her reaction and the crowd’s. Rowan felt guilty that the guests weren’t receiving his full attention as she knew first hand how special and irreplaceable that feeling was. The next beat to begin was If I’m James Dean, You’re Audrey Hepburn, and it passed in the same blur of Kellin’s unconscious motions of pushing back his hair, putting one hand to his chest, and clutching the microphone in a vice-like grip as if he were trying to hold on to the power of the universe between his palms. In awe, Rowan looked up at Vic to see if this was only so enthralling to her, but he was busy looking down at her. His lips were pulled up on one side in a sort of cocky, gloating, amused grin but it wasn’t unkind and Rowan felt nothing but friendly annoyance as she teasingly stuck her tongue out at him and returned to watching the stage.

There were a few more songs, Matty even joined Kellin on one called Congratulations and Rowan was completely wrapped up in the show, but finally one rolled around that required a special introduction. Kellin had to resist the urge to check if Rowan was watching, wanting her to just hear this.

“You know what my favorite thing about this whole tour is?” He called into the mic. The response was various cat-calls and those egging him on to continue. He obliged, “I can’t remember a single time we’ve participated in this tour that I haven’t felt welcome, at home, and like I belong. Which isn’t everyday for someone like me.” Rowan was confused, she knew things were hard at home what with Kate being ill but she couldn’t fathom why he would feel out of place outside of these barricades and gates. “I grew up without my dad,” he told them, and he again had to force himself to remain looking at the audience, “which sucks, let me tell you. But the thing is, I think that anyone cowardly enough to just walk away from a human being he created doesn’t deserve to be called a father. So this one’s for anyone out there who grew up without a mom or a dad.”

Rowan couldn’t feel her own hands or legs or anything other than her thundering heart. How could it possibly be that she called this man her father and didn’t know that he’d never had one of his own? How had she known him so closely without knowing something so monumental? She was torn between shame in herself for not asking him more about his own life and this sense that the already unbreakable bond they shared was just doubled in strength. He didn’t just want to be a dad to her, he didn’t just care for her, he understood her. At least to some extent. And that was a feeling Rowan couldn’t remember experiencing before.

“Father, father, tell me where have you been?
It’s been hell not having you here
I’ve been missing you so bad
And you don't seem to care
When I go to sleep at night, you’re not there
When I go to sleep at night, do you care?”

Rowan bit her lip as her clasp of Vic’s hand tightened to the point he wasn’t sure if he could feel his fingers but he didn’t complain, obviously able to see just how difficult and comforting this was for her.

“Do you even miss us?
Your bottle’s your mistress
I need to know, I need to know…
Why are you walking away?
Was it something I did?
Did I make a mistake cause
I’m trying to deal with the pain.
I don’t understand this, is this how it is?
I will try to understand.”

Kellin couldn’t take it any longer, his head almost involuntarily swiveling to the side to see Rowan. Her eyes were glassy, one hand to her mouth as she looked to be biting her nails, and there was one distinctive tear slipping down her pale, sharp cheekbone. Still, there was an indisputable sense of serenity and soothing, which gave Kellin the boost of confidence he needed to continue, though all the while the lyrics kept dragging him back not only to his own childhood but to what he knew of Rowan’s as well. Her words on the night she’d told them to let her go echoed through his skull: A life filled with dread at the thought of waking up; You begged God to just let you die in your sleep and he didn’t; You pretend to sleep and think, ‘Daddy, I know you left us but now would be the perfect time to come back, I need you so much right now.’ And still no ones comes; You know that no one will ever want you now. You’re stained, tarnished, and for the rest of your life you will be damaged; You down a bottle of your mother’s sleeping pills because even at ten years old you know there’s nothing left to hope for, nothing to believe in, and you pass out on the cold floor; You cut yourself for the first time and you know right away that it won’t be the last; It’s an effort for me just to close my eyes long enough to blink.

“Spent seven years wishing that you’d drop the line,
But I carry the thought along with you in my mind,
But is this what you call a family?
Is this what you call a family?
Family!
Why are you walking away?
Was it something I did?
Did I make a mistake cause
I’m trying to deal with the pain.
I don’t understand this, is this how it is?
Why are you running away?
I don’t understand this, is this how it is?
Why are you running away?
Tell me please, tell me please, I need to know…”

The words poured from his lips and though he meant them and he knew what he was singing the part of him that was moving his lips was operating on autopilot, his concentration on making sure Rowan heard him.

She did. Something inside of her cracked as the final chords were left to play, something that allowed her to accept the consoling gesture as Vic wrapped his arm around her shoulders, giving herself permission to lean against his side as Kellin sent her a sad, apologetic, and caring smile.

The rest of their set was foggy. If you asked either Rowan or Kellin to tell you even one detail from that period of time they wouldn’t have an answer. The only thing either of them could think of was getting to each other when the guys stepped off stage, both with so much to say to one another. When the time finally came around that the guys were tossing guitar picks and drum sticks into the thinning crowd, Kellin had already passed his mic off and was headed straight for Ro.

He was sweaty and his hair was a wreck but Rowan didn’t care, she gave Vic’s hand one more squeeze and then took off running, meeting Kellin at the very edge between ‘stage’ boundaries and ‘side-stage’. He lifted her up and swung her in a circle, powered by the momentum of their combined speed from rushing toward each other, before wrapping her in a tight hug.

Rowan held on just as tight, sighing against his shoulder as the weight of the day’s events were pushed from her shoulders. All that counted was those two, just them, until the others began following off stage and various tech members as well as the stage manager and Sleeping With Sirens’s tour manager and Matty and fans who won backstage passes and Vic and a few thousand more people. Okay, perhaps that was an exaggeration, but to Kellin and Rowan it felt that way. With a breathy laugh between the two, they pulled back and Rowan was set on her feet again.

She looked up at him with wide, entrancing eyes, “You guys are amazing.”

Kellin offered his hand for a high-five, one Rowan returned, and smiled, “Thanks, Ro.”

Rowan followed the flow of traffic as they moved off the stage and back onto the guarded side of the fences. Kellin poured a can of water over his head, which made Rowan laugh for no real reason, and took her hand. They started walking, chatting amongst the people surrounding, until they passed a woman with a plethora of intricate tattoos, hair that was brown on top and blonde underneath, and was talking into a radio.

“–No, I’m serious. I swear to God, if there’s one single stunt from them this year Kevin will pitch a fit.”

Kellin chuckled, pulling Rowan to stop as the others went on. They waited until she finished the conversation and noticed their presence, at which point Kellin reached out and hugged her. “Hey, Lisa.”

“Hey, Kellin,” she replied warmly, sharing her grin with Rowan. “You must be Rowan, right?”

Rowan panicked for a moment—how did this woman know her name?—but then realized Kellin surely had to get approval to bring a minor along on such a hectic tour. She smiled politely back, “That’s me. Nice to meet you.”

Apparently most teenagers, or at least the ones these people commonly dealt with, weren’t well versed in manners because, just as Tony had, Lisa looked startled as Rowan extended her hand to be shaken. Recovering, Lisa returned the gesture before giving Kellin a look that clearly said he should be proud to have this one around. Kellin winked, going on to explain why they’d stopped her, “I was trying to get ahold of Kevin, when he has a minute.”

“Sure,” Lisa said, putting the radio to her mouth again. “Lisa for Kevin,” she announced.

“Go for Kevin,” a muffled voice replied.

“I’ve got Kellin here, he wants to talk to you, where should I send him?”

“Uh,” Kevin answered, “I’m about to head over to Domo, there’s some technical issues. Send him my way.”

“Copy,” Lisa replied, clipping the radio to her hip again. “You got that?”

Kellin nodded, taking Rowan’s hand once again, “See you around, thanks, Lisa.”

“Sure, glad to meet you, Rowan.” Lisa waved them off and Kellin lead the way, obviously knowing better than Ro where they were headed. Rowan wasn’t sure what a ‘Domo’ was much less where it was so she just followed obediently.

Weaving through dozens of acquaintances and strangers alike, Rowan followed Kellin and privately wished just a little bit that he had brought that leash backpack. They approached the gates again, this time the venue was teeming with people anywhere from nine to ninety and there was a noticeable whiff of Mary Jane wafting their way. This was what she had been bracing herself for ever since she agreed to come here in a hazy stupor. Kellin gave her a look, one that told her to hold tight to whatever made her feel secure cause this would be bumpy.

Rowan also felt this odd sense of nerves, something like standing at the edge atop the roof of a skyscraper. It gave her the push she needed to shove Kellin—who had was just finishing masking himself with a beanie and sunglasses—into the mass. Kellin laughed, taking the hint, and began to dart quickly through the crowd with Rowan hot on his heels. There seemed to be a few people who recognized Kellin but he moved too quickly for them to stop them, still he offered them excitable grins that made their hearts stop for a minute. Those same people gave Rowan odd looks, especially those around her age who appeared a mix of confused, apprehensive, and envious. Not paying the bystanders much mind, the pair hurried around a corner, Kellin waving to Ro, ‘This way’, and found a few people in various states of panic as they examined two amps that were apparently busted. One man in a fedora and an Anthem tee spotted them and came over. He wasn’t unfriendly or rude but something about the way he astutely observed them, having an air about him that gave Rowan the impression he was far more intelligent than you might think at first, before giving Kellin what seemed a guarded smile made Rowan feel like wringing her hands and looking at her feet.

“Kellin, how can I help you?” Kevin asked kindly, possibly afraid Kell was coming to quit or complain, Rowan thought.

“First off, thanks again for having us,” at that Kevin’s grin seemed less shaded, more open, “I just wanted to give you something to think over, if you wouldn’t mind. This is my daughter, Rowan, by the way. Rowan, this is Kevin Lyman.”

Daughter. The word sent an electric shock zipping down Rowan’s spine. It was all so surreal.

Kevin extended his hand and shook hers, “I’ve heard a lot about you, it’s nice to finally put a face to the name.”

“Pleasure to meet you as well, Mr. Lyman, and thank you for letting me come on tour.” Rowan herself heard a slight tremor in her voice and blushed scarlet.

“Please, it’s Kevin,” he insisted, “and I mean it when I say this group of people are family, that includes you. Well, what can I do for you both, then?”

“Well, Rowan and I were wondering if you might need any help around the tour? Rowan expressed interest in getting involved,” Kellin explained.

Now Kevin looked pleased, “Hey, we can always use another set of hands. I’m sure we could put you to good use.”

Rowan grinned up at him, her cheeks still rosy, and Kellin held her hand a little tighter.

“Thanks, Kevin,” Kellin beamed, “I’ll see you around.”

“See you,” Kevin replied before turning to focus on Rowan. “Let me know when you’d like to start, and it was great meeting you.”

Rowan responded politely but even as they walked away she couldn't recall the words she’d uttered, too busy floating on cloud nine. Sure there were a few downs but there were plenty of ups as well and over all, Rowan was incredibly ecstatic to be here. Kellin knelt in front of her and she hopped on his back in such a carefree way, accompanied by a giggle, that Kellin was right there with her in the happy haze. They jogged back to the bus and as soon as Rowan sat down on the couch, waiting for Kellin to take her to Vic and Tony's show, she looked around the room just taking it in, and decided that maybe—just maybe—things really would be okay after all.

Notes

Rowan of Roll-Call Rad Readers:
Cin-D182 (x2)
SleepingInReverse
Juliette Quinn
Jordan070701
Don't be a poopy bag! (x3)

Firstly, I apologize. A million times over. I'm alive, also. And I haven't yet relapsed. I've just had a really insane month.

I have a pet bunny who had to get rushed to the ER and was half dead for days as we tried to bring him back to his old health but he's finally going better, just can't move his back legs which is hard. He needs round the clock care so I'm exhausted.

I also started college courses online. I'm only 17 but I graduated a couple years early and just got around to it. I'm excited but it also is exhausting.

Plus I got a new job that is completely time-consuming.

All in all, I've been going crazy and get no sleep and I'm so sorry.

As you can tell, it shows in my writing. This chapter was al over the place and, though it totals to 16 pages typed, about half of them weren't even in my plan. I'm so so sorry.

However I was happy about his description of Ro because as cliched as it may've been in parts is was still something I've been meaning to work on for a while. I wasn't sure how or when but I wanted to delve into the way Kellin views her, the way he first saw her and continues to see her, because as a girl struggling with a morphed self-image I identified with her opinion of her reflection and wanted to counteract the way Ro, myself, and maybe some of you see ourselves.

So here we are. I hope you aren't disappointed. Also, I haven't forgotten about the thing at the end of HNK. or what you've asked for in the way of keeping characters you like present or introducing ones you've requested. Updates may not be as frequent as they used to be but I hope to never have it be as long of a gap as it has been this time.

Thank you all so much for sticking with me, for being present, for caring, and for not giving up on this story even when I'm a really suck author.

Moreover, thank you all for helping us break 10k reads. I mean, 10,610?!?! That's insane. You guys are insanely amazing. And welcome to the new subscribers. And thanks for the new votes. Thank you all.

Love to you all from Rowan and myself,
MM.