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Navy Blue Eyes

Her Not-So-Free Freedom.

Kellin Quinn has many names. No, not just his legal name and stage name, he also has a multitude of others. Examples being those girls give to themselves in his honor on the backs of their notebooks: “Mrs. Kellin Quinn” or “Mrs. _____ Quinn Bostwick”. He has also been called a variety of adjectives by various journalists: ‘self-confident’, ‘kind’, ‘relaxed’, ‘cocky’, ‘talented’, ‘overrated’… just to offer a few. Moreover, one little girl has many names for him herself: ‘Kellin’, ‘Kell’, ‘Tatt’, ‘Loser’, ‘You’. The list goes on. One thing that she couldn’t yet manage to spit from her lips was the one thing she wanted to call him most: ‘Dad’. She wasn’t sure why her mouth refused to form the simple letters into an audible sound but nevertheless it was there, this sense that a wall stood between her thought to just say it and her ability to do so.

It had been a few days of driving, crappy fast food, watching her ‘uncles’ (she was once told that if she didn’t call them that she’d have to ride on top of the bus, whether they were planning to go beneath bridges or not, as said by Jack) play video games, and one night of Vic’s brother Mike oddly trying to teach her how to do a handstand. Now they were approaching the second venue, Las Cruces, New Mexico. Rowan patiently waited for the guys to get ready, already prepared for the day herself as a result of the fact that she only got three hours of sleep, though none of them knew that. She sat with her legs tucked up under her on the couch in the front area, gazing out of the window with her chin perched atop her folded hands as they sat on the window sill. She’d watched landscapes fly by the windows for a couple of days now but was positive she would never get used to the sight or feeling. The way all of the colors melted together into a gorgeously messy blur made her hands itch for oil pastels or Prismacolors to attempt to recreate it.

That was one thing Rowan missed from her life before. The ability to simply wander, to watch and observe. She missed the sense of freedom that came with the sound of her skateboard’s wheels scratching against concrete as she zoomed past strangers. Mixes of fresh leaves in hues varying from olive to chartreuse; swirls of blindingly bright white clouds, occasionally cast with a strawberry or tangerine or even eggplant shade as the sun set; dashes of colors such as maroon, grey, brown, or scarlet in the clothing the passersby wore. It was so satisfying to glimpse these magnificent sights and later disappear behind a sketch pad to fill the page with those images she found so enchanting.

Now, as the horizon became smudges of russet and sepia, Rowan imagined how good it would feel to have those pencils between her fingers. Lost in her head, it took her a moment to realize she was no longer alone in the living area. Kellin, Jack, and Justin sat on the couch, all interested in some video game on the TV that Gabe and Jesse were playing while sitting on the floor. She’d apparently wasted plenty of time because it seemed only a minute later that the landscape seen through the window became clearer as the bus slowed, finally becoming almost a vision of a painting itself as they were hauled to a jerky stop.

“Ready?” Kellin asked Rowan, beaming at her.

“Yeah,” she replied, returning his smile. Today was already easier than the last venue, she now had a better idea of what to expect. Today wasn’t so filled with anxiety, leaving room for more excitement and plenty of curiosity. Never could she have imagined she’d get to see the country like this but the opportunity was upon her now, and she was rearing to take it.

Kellin handed her the pass she was to have at all times, the smile held on his face until he gave her a once-over. “Are you sure you wanna wear that?” he asked hesitantly, not desiring to spark another argument at all but evidently concerned.

“I’m fine,” she assured him. She was used to it, she’d worn layers upon layers for so long that it hardly seemed noticeable anymore, it was better than the alternative. Though the thought of just embracing herself had crossed her mind once or twice—granted, only since she’d moved in with Kellin—it always ended up a silly fantasy she shoved to the side. She knew from the few who had seen her skin that the truth wasn’t truly an option, she wasn’t prepared to have this positive opportunity soured and tarnished by the side-long glances and muttered words that stemmed from her accidentally exposing even a square inch of her scars. Thinking on it only made her more uncomfortable and she unconsciously pulled the sleeves of her Collide With the Sky sweatshirt over her fingers, playing with the hem in a way that she knew would eventually wear it to soft shreds, as most of her clothes were quite quickly.

Kellin didn’t seem convinced but decided not to push it, simply smiling at her kindly and asking if she had her cell phone.

“Why?” she quizzed in response.

“In case you get lost,” he shrugged. Rowan and Andy had decided against telling him about her little party-of-one adventure at the opening barbecue but Kellin knew her well enough to be aware that it was a possibility. That didn’t fully explain why he wouldn’t meet her eye, however. Coming from an abusive household made Rowan acutely perceptive of the emotions of those around her so, as Kellin smiled a little thinner and looked at his black phone screen as if reading something, Rowan caught on quickly. She forced herself not to panic or lash out, wanting to just enjoy this day.

“Let’s go!” Justin called, waiting at the door and motioning everyone towards it like a petulant child waiting to go to the candy store.

It amused Rowan as much that day as it had every day before, and every day to come for a while she imagined, that the grown men around here seemed to revert back to their decades-younger selves, like the gates to Warped Tour were some sort of looking glass that transported you to a wonderland or otherwise a time machine that took you back to the days when a kiss from a parent could fix everything and the most important event of the week was Saturday morning cartoons. Clearly this wasn’t a way of life Rowan was personally familiar with, at least not before joining the tour, but she could see it in the unabashed joy and carefree air that swathed you in warmth upon entrance. She wondered, as she laughed to herself watching Jack try to talk to them while walking backwards and eventually toppling over a stray chord, if this was what it felt like to have family. Siblings or uncles and aunts. Was this what it felt like to go to a family reunion? Every time the guys passed someone they knew, be it from a band or the crew, they had to stop and bro-hug and talk about every bite they’d eaten since they last saw each other. Not that Rowan minded, in fact she was thoroughly enjoying not being the center of attention for the first time since… well, since she met Kellin really. Perhaps this meant he was growing to trust her, his eyes didn’t dart to hers between each blink and when, on one occasion, a guy named Ben offered him a beer Kellin didn’t look to Rowan as if seeing whether or not she’d heard and end up—no matter how much she told him not to think of her as a burden or something to tiptoe around—declining. Instead Kellin laughed and made a crack about not wanting to fall off the stage again, seeing as Ben apparently never actually just drank one beer. Rowan did make a mental note of that for later, trying to seem polite as they bid farewell while simultaneously deciding she didn’t want to be left alone with Ben no matter how nice and funny he seemed.

They moved in a crowd, a sort of pack, and Rowan realized only as they reached the back of the stage where the band would have sound check that they had all fallen into a formation around her. Like secret service men around the president the guys of Sleeping With Sirens had created a safe little bubble within which Rowan could be a part of it all without the risk of her getting hurt, either emotionally or physically.

As they reached the side-stage area once again, however, she was forced to let go of Kellin’s now-sweaty-hand. Thankfully Matty and Vic, along with the band’s tech guys and various other crew members, were waiting in the wings to keep an eye on Rowan. Thankfully being the choice word in Kellin’s opinion. Rowan wasn’t overly fond of being smothered. At least neither Vic nor Matty made it feel any such way. They were already in the middle of a conversation as the others approached and as soon as Kellin was whisked away on stage they turned to her kindly, as if no prior plans had been made to babysit, though she knew that was far from the truth.

“Ro,” Vic began, apparently having adapted the nickname without fault as it rolled off his tongue like the name of his best friend, “what’s your favorite book?”

Bewildered by the left-field question, it took Rowan a minute to conjure up a response. As she thought she took a seat on a spare amp, the guys following suit by sitting on various equipment near by, “Probably The Outsiders, or The Bell Jar, or… well…”

“Well, what?” Matty nudged, smiling at her kindly.

“It’s dumb, just my favorite book when I was really little.” She tried to leave it at that, shrugging nonchalantly and giving them her best lopsided grin.

Vic edged forward playfully, as if on pins and needles, “Do tell!”

Rolling her eyes Rowan mimed zipping her lips, locking them, and throwing away the key. Feeling triumphant, Rowan looked at their reactions only to find no trace of disappointment, instead they wore identical conspiratorial looks and smirked evilly at one another.

Matty turned toward her, “We're totally prepared to embarrass the hell out of you if you don’t fess up.”

Rowan laughed, abandoning the ‘locked-lips’ pretense in place of her confidence, “There’s nothing you could do to embarrass m–”

But Vic was already up and striding onto the stage, he took the mic from Kellin’s hand much to the latter’s confusion, and stood atop a small platform for the guitarists to stand on. Rowan, astounded, jumped to her feet in indignation, ready to put a stop to whatever he was doing when Matty hopped in front of her, sidestepping and blocking her every attempt to get around him. Vic cleared his throat, catching the attention of a few roadies who worked on tents nearby, “I’d like everyone’s attention!” he called, getting most of the crew in hearing range to look his way, “I have been told in confidence that Kellin Quinn’s daughter would like a boyfriend, if any of you see a nice looking punk around thirteen please have him line up in front of–”

Rowan swore her undying gratitude to the man as Kellin saved the day, stepping up to the mic and snatching it from Vic. As this occurred, Rowan darted around Matty who was busy laughing too hard to notice, and ran head-first at Vic. Kellin barked into the mic, “You’ll do no such thing! If I even see a boy around her I’ll murder them so unless you want to be charged as an accomplice to it you’d better make sure they steer clear!”

Now Vic and every crew member in sight was cracking up, holding their sides, but Rowan was already headed straight for the culprit. She didn’t even think, she just pounced, landing on Vic’s back but he’d apparently seen her coming because he caught her weight with a small, ‘oomph’, before steadying himself and beginning to run around the stage with her on his back. What began as an attack turned quickly into a piggy back ride between the band and across the stage a few times. By the time Vic stopped, panting, Rowan’s ribs ached from laughter and sound check was effectively ruined. Not that anyone minded at all. Vic had paused beside Matty again at side stage and Rowan slid off his back, landing on her feet while still stifling her giggles.

Matty smirked at her, “Wanna tell us now?”

Rowan looked up to see both men looming over her, trying to look ominous, but she could only laugh and shake her head. Vic sighed and shook his head, his expression one of exaggerated moroseness as he spoke to Matty, “I guess she asked for it then.”

Matty, also wearing a look of painted on pity, nodded solemnly, “I suppose so.”

Rowan crossed her arms, glowering up at them, a hint of smugness to the set of her shoulders. “Come at me,” she challenged.

Matty shook his head gravely, “Nope, not that simple. You’ve asked for it, but you won’t see it coming.”

Rowan, slightly nervous, scoffed, “Yeah, right. I’d like to see you try.”

They looked at each other and back to her, winking in sync in a way that sent a chill down Rowan’s spine.

“Alright, Shining Twins, you two are creeping me out.” Rowan turned to go but her hand was grasped and she couldn’t. Spinning to see who had stopped her, Rowan found Vic holding her back, “What?”

“Kell didn’t tell you?” Vic asked, making Rowan cold all over.

“Tell me what?” Rowan demanded lowly, her voice gravely as she tried to calm herself through her growing panic.

“Hey!” Kellin called, running to them with a grin on his face. It drooped once he took in everyone’s tense looks, instantly becoming a grimace. “Oh, yeah, Ro can I talk to you real quick?”

Rowan followed Kellin off to the side cautiously, suddenly on guard. “What did Vic mean? About something you haven’t told me?” she asked, jumping straight to the point.

Kellin sat on a stray case and patted it for Rowan. She sat but maintained eye-contact, keeping him from trying to change the subject or dodge the question in any way. “I’m really sorry about it but… there’s really nothing I could do.” He sighed and each moment seemed like an agonizing hour to Rowan as she waited to understand. “Jacky, you met him at the barbecue, British guy in Ronnie’s band?” Rowan nodded, not trusting her voice. “Right, well, he’s doing these workshops with Band Happy this year, Matty and I did them last year, but he fell yesterday and sprained his wrist so in order for him to be well enough to play his show he has to rest his arm. Band Happy came to Matty and I and asked us to take over today’s workshop and they were so good to us last year that I just felt like I needed to agree. I can back out, though, if you want me to. I understand if you’re too–”

Rowan sighed in relief, causing Kellin to give her a strange look. She smiled, “I thought you were going to tell me I had to go home or something,” she mimed wiping sweat from her forehead to show him how well she was taking it, “this is no problem.”

“Well, they take forever between the set up and the Q and A and everything, so Vic asked if you’d hang out with him and his band today. I’ll be free this evening so you can come to our show but I’ll be pretty busy all day. You can tag along if you want to, I wouldn’t mind, but I think Vic’s gotten his hopes up.” Kellin jerked his chin toward Vic and Rowan looked to see him hanging, alone, by the same amp he’d been at earlier. It looked like something a boy would do, nervous before his first date, and Rowan giggled. Kellin grinned too, “He knows how important you are to me, he wants to spend time with you too.”

Rowan tried not to look like she was thinking but in reality she was. She weighed out the possibilities of dreadful turnouts from going with Vic, but also considered the positives. He might see her skin, negative. He might make her forget the world for a little while, positive. He might make her spend time in the big crowds, negative. He might give her information about all the people she had and hadn’t met that she was too scared to ask Kellin about, positive. He might prod her with questions, negative. He might make her feel less alien amidst these people who’d known each other for years, positive. He might try to make her eat, negative. In the end she could come up with one for every other, balancing it out so that she really couldn’t say this was a completely terrible idea. She nodded at Kellin subtly, “Sure, let’s do it.”

Kellin waved Vic over, jerking Vic from his random glances at nothing as he jogged eagerly to their spot. “Take care of her,” Kellin ordered, “and have her back no later than stage-call, young man.”

Vic saluted and offered his hand to Rowan, bowing as if playing the coachman in Cinderella. She laughed as she took it, gave Kellin one last fleeting look of uncertainty, and followed Vic off the back of the stage. Vic grinned down at her, releasing her hand so that they could walk down the small stairs that led to the dirt below. “So, what would you like to do?”

Rowan contemplated asking to go back to the bus but thought better of it. Firstly because who the hell would prefer to spend their time in a metal trap they already had to waste the majority of their nights in rather than enjoy a once in a life time opportunity with none other than the front man of a world famous band? Secondly because Vic was looking at her with this hopeful expression that made her want to impress him, or rather at least not disappoint him.

“Could we explore the venue a little bit?” she asked him, waiting to see his reaction. She was still adjusting to the way normal men just took things in stride, smiling and nodding and agreeing rather than punishing her for having an opinion. Vic grinned and nodded.

“Is it okay with you if the guys from my band tag along? You’ve met them all I think, anyway when they overheard me and Kellin they got kinda excited about it too.”

“Of course,” she assured him, though beneath her smile she was trying to remember their names and what they seemed like so as to prepare herself. Things such as last minute changes and friends jumping in on the fun would seem minor to anyone else but to a girl whose life was driven by her ability to keep her walls up in protection any small shift had to be taken seriously. “I know I met Mike and Tony... who else is there?”

“Jaime,” he responded as he clicked his phone off, presumably having just texted his bandmates, “he’s crazy, but really cool. You’ll like him I think. And they’ll be meeting us by the Vans tent.”

Rowan followed Vic through the hurried workers toward their destination, casually swinging her arms and letting the sense of companionship hit her full force. She enjoyed time with her ‘uncles’ but it seemed different to spend time with someone, not because they were cooped up together in a bus, simply because he wished to spend time with her. They approached a large tent where dozens of boxes were already being unpacked and Rowan saw the guys, two of which she’d spoken to and the third a man she recognized as one Vic had been talking to before greeting her at the opening night barbecue.

“Rowan!” Mike cheered, waving toward her as he was the only one facing them. The two there turned to catch sight of Vic and Rowan approaching, Tony smiling kindly and the third—obviously Jaime—grinning broadly.

Vic stopped once they’d reached them and so did his follower, “Jaime, this is Rowan. Ro, that’s Hime-Time.”

“Nice to meet you,” she said shyly, taking the hand he extended toward her.

“You too,” he replied, his smile a mile wide. She admired how happy and energetic he seemed, something that couldn’t help but rub off on those around him. “Here,” he added, thrusting something at Vic.

Vic held the item up confusedly before seeming to get it and shooting Jaime an exasperated look. “When the hell did you have time to cook this up?”

Rowan was intrigued and tried to stand on her tip-toes to get a look at the fabric in Vic’s hands—not that he was that much taller—and he noticed, then showed her the words stencil-spray-painted on the back of a white tee: Pierce the Veil Babysitting Co.

She burst out laughing, her face heating up from the lack of oxygen, and soon the others followed suit. She looked at Jaime, who seemed confused at her reaction, “As Vic Asked: When the hell?”

Jaime grinned, “Who needs sleep anyway?”

Rowan rolled her eyes playfully, seeing from the corner of her eye as Vic discarded the shirt he’d been wearing and pulled on the new one, handing the first tee to a girl to his right at a tent that said ‘PIERCE THE VEIL MERCH’ and listed various prices as well as the time and stage information for the band’s daily performance, “Will you toss this in a box, I’ll deal with it later.”

“Sure,” she told him, her expression one of mock exasperation.

“Thanks, Stace.” With that he turned back to the group and smiled yet again, something that seemed a habit to him. “Now, let’s explore.”



As the sun dipped lower, hanging just between the apex of the cloud-free sky and the horizon that provided a definite line, its glow became torturously heavy. The heat was almost unbearable, its power intoxicating as your sweat trickled down your back and your eyes seemed glued in an almost-shut squint. Jaime had made each of them something with the absurd saying on it: Vic’s tee; Tony’s baseball cap; Mike’s hoodie; Rowan’s bracelet; and his own cut-off. As the day wore on they’d received ludicrous amounts of stares and plenty of fans’ questions. Vic answered them with questions about themselves or offers of free merch which quickly redirected their attention.

This had just happened yet again as Rowan stood just to Tony’s side, half-hidden behind him, and Vic spoke to a girl who looked only a little older than Rowan. The girl, who introduced herself as Katy, was fighting back tears. Rowan watched in awe as the girl asked the guys to sign her arms—littered with her own scars, Rowan noted—and they obliged. As Vic wrote his name with a flourish of sharpie ink that was crafted from years of autographs given, he wrapped the girl in a hug. Katy hadn’t held it together, she cried as quietly as she could into Vic’s shoulder before pulling back, laughing through her tears, and thanking them all profusely. Vic tried to speak privately to her but Rowan heard, the words making her own heart feel tight.

“It’ll be okay,” he’d assured the stranger, holding her hands like they were the best of friends and looking her directly in the eyes. “It might not be easy, but it gets better. I swear. And you’ll always have us.”

Rowan watched as the girl walked away, glancing over her shoulder as she went as if making sure she hadn’t been hallucinating. Katy looked torn between bliss and pain; brought peace by Vic’s reassuring words of comfort and the kind, warmth the guys exuded, but yet pained that she had to walk away. Rowan quite understood. She was pulled back to the day of saying farewell to Kellin after their first night together in the hospital, the air of relaxation and calm he’d offered her making it hard to keep from smiling as he played along with her jokes, but at the same time she’d felt more alone than ever before to be leaving behind that man in place of the world she’d been able to avoid for a little while in his presence.

Rowan had never, aside from Stefan, seen another person who harmed themselves. She felt a sort of kinship with the half-dozen fans who’d told Vic of the ways in which he’d saved their lives, she also couldn’t deny the part of her that was relieved to see she wasn’t alone. By the same token, though, she felt guilt because she knew first-hand what it was to feel that much pain and wouldn’t wish it on her worst enemy.

As they began walking again, now headed toward the tent they were to have their signing at, Rowan walked at Vic’s side. She took a deep breath and approached a topic she’d been skating around all day (the guys had been curious as to why she refused to take her sweatshirt off in place of the free PTV tank they’d offered). “Vic?”

“Yeah?” he replied, looking at her from the corner of his eye as if he could sense already her tense demeanor.

“What… Um. What did Kellin tell you about me?” She hoped he couldn’t hear the note of desperation and fear in her voice.

“Well, I, uh, know about your mom,” he responded, seeming sheepish that he knew even that.

“What about her?”

“I know she had cancer,” he said, his voice politely reserved. “And I know she passed away.”

“Is that all?” She hadn’t noticed she’d stopped walking until she saw the others pass them, saying quietly that they’d meet them at the tent, and Vic pulled her out of the thick of the crowd. She followed him to an empty spot, leaning against a metal fence.

“I, well, I know about some of the things you’ve struggled with.” Vic looked utterly vacillated, seeming to waver between whether or not to tell her something. In the end he sighed in resignation, plopping to sit on the dirt below and patting the ground beside him for Rowan. She sat as he sighed before connecting gazes with her. “I was there when you were… After your mom… When…”

“When I was recovering?” she supplied, to which he nodded. “I had no idea.”

“I know, I don’t think Kellin wanted to make you uncomfortable. I was there for a couple days because Kellin refused to leave your side for more than a minute.”

“Fuck.” Rowan put her face in her hands in shame. “You must think I’m an absolute freak.”
Vic wasn’t sure whether or not he’d earned enough trust from her in the day of laughing and wandering around to be allowed to touch her. He decided it was better to be cautious with her so he settled for keeping his hands to himself. He slowly began to unravel his bracelets, just a couple that’d he’d worn that day. Once his arms were bare he tapped her shoulder. She looked up at him with wide, entrancing blue orbs that were indisputably glistening with unshed tears. “Not quite,” he finally said, extending his arms to her so that she could better see them.

Vic watched as she gasped, her hand going to her throat as if shocked she’d made the sound. She seemed to move without realizing it, her minuscule, ever-chilled hands ghosting over his forearms with the utmost care and concern.

“Vic…” she trailed off, overwhelmed with the sensation of pity, relief, pain, worry, kindness… all of it mixed into one choked word.

“So, you see, I don’t think you’re a freak. In fact, I get it. Completely.” Vic had long since moved past his years of nasty habits and had been fairly open about his history, so it wasn’t too hard for him to show her and talk about it. Still, he felt the old feelings of rejection and pain that floated to the surface each and every time he looked at his own scars that had faded into almost invisible reminders like the dimmed memory of an old, close friend. You can see their smile and the expression they wore when watching a movie but you can’t quite picture the amount of freckles they had on their nose anymore nor how they held a card you’d given them before opening it. You feel the memory of a pang, the kind you felt in those first days you realized they would never be there to see you through your most memorable moments to come, but the twang has lost it’s potency and punch. “I used to cut. Just about everyday for a while.”

“Sorry about the freak-thing, then,” she said, but her words were thick and, though her face was hidden as she studied his scars, he knew she was crying.

“Nah, I am a freak. I embrace it. I mean, what sane guy involves his brother in his daily job? It’s like asking to be homicidal.” They both chuckled but it wasn’t with much real humor. They were too busy being drug through their own memories.

“You’ve– You’ve stopped though?” she mumbled, mostly for the sake of something to say. She understood how others must feel when confronted with her very own marks. She wasn’t sure what to say. She knew that ‘poor thing’ did nothing, and promises of hope to come did little in the long run.

“Yeah,” he answered, “a long time ago.”

“How?” she whispered. He wasn’t sure if he was meant to hear it or not but the word sent a thrill of fear and panic through him. Just the idea of a child as young and already pained as she was taking a blade to her skin made him want to steal her away to some hidden planet where no one could hurt her. She swallowed a lump in her throat, forced her tears to cease, looking up at him with pink-rimmed eyes and flushed cheeks. “I’m sorry.”

“You’ve nothing to apologize for,” he assured her, looking somewhere between anguish and relaxation.

“I might not’ve hurt you myself but I’m sorry you were hurt.” Rowan was so wise beyond her years it made Vic wish he we’re able to travel through time and save her from the pain she’d endured. “I know how bad it must’ve been for you to do this,” she gestured to his arms, “so, I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry, too, Rowan.”

Rowan closed her eyes, savoring the feeling of being apologized to for she’d never heard a word of remorse for the atrocities committed against her in her childhood. Vic may not be her absent father or her abusive mother—or even present through those years at all—but this was more than she could ever dare to ask for. This was something she wanted to remember for a long time to come.

“Vic,” she mumbled, looking at the swarms of strangers who breezed by them, undisturbed by their presence. She wanted badly to thank him, but for what? How could she explain herself to another when her thoughts hardly made sense in her own head? She also wanted to hug him. It was an odd urge she was still adjusting to. She could count on one hand the amount of times she’d been hugged before meeting Kellin and had always found the gesture pointless and a little scary. Trusting someone else to have their arms around you, without being able to see their face, in an attempt to gain some modicum of peace? It’d never made sense. Now, however, she wanted nothing more than to throw her arms around him and profess her gratitude. But she didn’t. Instead she spat out a much less daunting topic, “how come kids aren’t all over you right now?”

Thrown off by the abrupt change in subject, it took Vic a moment to shove away old thoughts and return to the present moment. He gave her an ironic smile, a twist of the lips that danced atop the fence between pity—whether for her or himself she wasn’t sure—and a look that made him seem much older than he usually did, one that looked like he was a thousand year old spirit trapped by chains inside the body of a man who was often underestimated.

“It’s a little trick,” he told her privately, as if sharing a highly confidential secret, “we’ve all found our way of living in a world where people stop to look twice as we pass. See, right now I’m not Vic Fuentes, one fourth of Pierce the Veil. I don’t have the switch flipped ‘on’. Right now I’m Vic, the kid who got beat up everyday and then found a way to cope, hanging out with one of his best friends’ daughters because she’s pretty awesome.”

Rowan took a minute to let that sink in, imagining a little switch in the back of her mind to ‘flip’ on or off. She knew what that felt like. It was the only way she’d survived her younger years, her ability to turn off her emotions. Someone would ask how she was and, with her lights out, she’d hollowly reply that she was great, how were they? With the switch flipped on she’d locked herself in the bathroom to release the pent up feelings. Kellin’s presence had shorted out the wires of her well-trained brain, now she couldn’t predict when pure terror or unbearable pain would consume her until it had swallowed her whole. Nor could she tell how deep her numbness reached until she had to scratch her arms or pinch her legs to the point of bruising to make herself feel at all.

“You’ll master it yourself when you need to,” Vic said, either not noticing the distance in her eyes or either choosing to ignore it.

“But no one even knows who I am, right? So why would I need to?” She peered up at him in confusion, and Vic suddenly looked apprehensive.

“Well, our lives aren’t allowed all that much privacy. I mean, Kellin hasn’t put anything out there. He doesn’t want to for as long as he can.” But something in his voice and expression told Rowan this was a temporary haven of oblivion she existed in, that it wouldn’t last. “But they’re our fans and if they feel like we’re hiding something they’re hurt. They’ll make things up to comfort themselves or lash out. It’s not meant in bad spirits but lying by omission only works so long before the truth becomes the safer option.”

“Oh, right.” Rowan tried to act as if this was something that hardly bothered her more than a fly on her shoulder but Vic, being that he’d gone through it himself, saw beneath it.

“C’mon, the guys’ll have a riot on their hands if my handsome face isn’t there to calm the girls.” Vic smirked playfully at Rowan as he stood, dusted himself off, and offered her a hand. She took it and, once on her feet, she followed him between the clusters of patrons who were huddled around schedules or a tee shirt their friend had gotten. As they approached the tent Vic looked at Rowan sympathetically, “This can get a little boring for people just watching, I’m sorry.”

“No, no, s’fine. I’ll just play on my phone,” she tried to smile back but wasn’t sure if the thought manifested into expression successfully or not. As she held up her phone to accentuate her point, it vibrated yet again. Kellin had been texting her every other minute with questions of how she was, what they were doing, and updates on what he himself was up to. It was odd at first to her, this being the first time they were separated for more than a couple hours since she’d moved in with him, to be dogged for check ins and what not. However, it also felt comforting, she knew that whether they were apart five minutes or five hours Kellin loved her and cared about her well-being. “Where am I to wait?”

“Uh,” they rounded the corner and the people lined up erupted into giggles or even suppressed sobs, but Vic had eyes only for the girl wearing a tee that deemed her a Volunteer. “Hey, do you guys have any spare chairs?”

Rowan had stayed hidden at Vic’s side as long as possible but as the girl passed him a metal chair and he stepped to place it against the back of the tent, facing the guys, she was exposed. A hush fell over those nearest the front of the line, reminding Rowan of the way it felt to enter her mother’s hospital wing when the nurses had clearly just been talking about Carlotta’s strange kid. The words had passed in ghostly whispers between the staff as she strode past the desk, headed to her mother’s room: freak; emaciated; bitchy; suicidal; depressed; self absorbed. Rowan’s ears unintentionally perked, listening for similar rumblings from the onlookers, but they seemed only puzzled. Mike must’ve picked up on some signal because he suddenly stood up, drawing all eyes to himself, and held up two PTV shirts.

“Heads up!” he called, tossing one of them to the group nearest the front, effectively distracting them completely as one girl snagged it and they all cooed over the fabric. He threw the second further back and heard a guy cheer for having caught it. It amused Rowan and she might’ve laughed, the joy these people felt was almost contagious as they beamed at the guys, but she was busy walking to Vic and her chair.

Rowan looked up at Vic briefly, “They can’t come back here right?”

“Promise,” he replied. There was an awkward beat in which Rowan was tempted once again to wrap her arms around his waist for comfort and she was half-sure he was itching to do the same, but in the end he gave her a cautious smile and jerked his thumb toward the table set up for the signing where his bandmates were already sitting. “I’ll go as fast as possible, okay? I think there’s a snack truck somewhere in the venue, we’ll go as soon as we’re done.”

Rowan nodded and took her seat, watching as Vic walked across to do the same, his at the front of the line with Jaime to his right, before pulling out her phone and deciding to play Sudoku. No sooner had she opened the app and clicked the start button than she heard the first fan to reach Vic say, “Was there some kind of contest to get backstage with you? I swore I didn’t see one online.”

“She’s actually my n– My, uh, my friend’s daughter. She’s working as a roadie, learning the ropes,” Vic mumbled, aided by Jaimie’s grin and nod. Rowan could imagine the furtive glances Vic was tossing her way nervously but fought to keep her eyes on her phone, not wanting to make him any more uncomfortable than he already was. “What would you like me to sign?”

It went on in that fashion, the rumors that Vic knew would be spreading online in hours budding right in front of him as he attempted to squash each one at its source. No, he said, she’s not my kid. Yes, she’s meant to be there; No, she didn’t win a contest; No, she wasn’t injured; Yes, she’s quite young but much older than she looks; No, she’s not from Make A Wish; No, not from Living The Dream either. The questions kept pouring in and Vic, along with the rest of the band, fought to keep them at bay, knowing one slip of the tongue would result in some irreversible lie taking root. By the halfway point Rowan had somehow managed to block the sounds out but she suddenly realized she must look so stupid, sitting here on her phone like she was some spoiled, ungrateful little kid while she was living a moment most of those kids would kill for. Still, she wasn’t sure she was prepared mentally to face their scrutinizing looks as they attempted to find features in common between her and one of the band members to at least tell themselves she was family.

After another period of questions, answers, and comments on the fantastic music they made—and an occasional insolent jab or a derisive chuckle between friends as they pointed unabashedly at Rowan—had passed, Rowan was tugged into concentrating by a small voice. A girl’s voice. Rowan looked up only once the girl’s words reached her ears to see she was the final fan in line. The voice was soft, subdued. She had blonde hair, pale skin, and brown eyes that looked too dark. She looked to be about fourteen or so and kept her arms tucked tightly across her chest, as if holding the thin hoodie she wore as close to her as she could, and Rowan was shocked at what she said.

“I know you hear this a lot, but, I still mean it so…” she looked painstakingly awkward and clearly felt uncomfortable. Still, she has a sense of resolve about her that came forth as she sighed, bit her lip that was coated in dark purple lipstick, and continued. “You guys saved my life. Your music, I mean. It means everything to me.”

Vic stood up and wrapped his arms around her and, though it took her a minute of either shock or fear, she hugged him back. Rowan felt her stomach clench, just knowing that she and that girl had more in common than the girl knew. Rowan watched Vic just hug the girl, finally releasing her to sit down, though he still kept the girl’s hand. “What’s your name, beautiful?”

“Rebecca,” she replied, her voice thick with unshed tears as she held Vic’s hand tightly.

“Well, Rebecca, is there anything you’d like me to sign?” Vic was already scribbling his name on the posters offered for free using the hand wasn’t clutching hers.

“Just the poster’s fine,” Rebecca murmured, obviously trying not to cry.

Vic winked, pulled something from his wallet, and made a distinct initial on it. Only once he passed it to Rebecca could Rowan see it was an old guitar pick. “That was one of my first.”

“Oh, I couldn’t,” Rebecca tired to protest, pushing it back to him but Vic just shook his head. She gave in, surely made to melt with the care and kindness Rowan knew Vic could flash in just one grin, taking the pick and pocketing it. “Thank you. For everything.”

Rowan watched as each member, having heard her words to Vic, stood and gave Rebecca a hug. By the time she reached Tony at the other end she had tears streaming down her cheeks. Tony grinned at her, but then it seemed a little more serious as he asked her to promise not to hurt herself anymore. She agreed, at first reluctantly, but then she seemed determined to keep the deal strong. Rebecca—like Katy had—walked away with a dazed expression, as if her wildest dreams had just come true before her very eyes. And Rowan supposed that was exactly the case. Not only was Rowan impressed with Vic from before, now she held unwavering admiration and respect for each of the members of his band. They just changed that girl’s life.

Vic looked out of it a moment before Jaime’s hand laid on his arm and brought him abruptly back to the present. Smiling halfheartedly, Vic turned back to Rowan, “Oh, good. You didn’t die of boredom!”

“It’s actually quite intriguing,” she replied, her own small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. Vic’s bandmates hadn’t heard her way of speaking, apparently, because they looked at her in surprise.

“Oh, is it quite?” Mike teased in a posh-British accent, making Rowan giggle. This was apparently his goal as it made him grin hugely, his medusa piercing (as she’d learned it was called, along with as many other piercing types as she could, and being told that it was preferable to refer to tats as ‘ink’ or ‘art’ as it gave more respect to the tattooer and the tattooed) gleam in the low-slung sun. The heat was suffocating but Rowan refused their offers yet again for cooler clothing, yet only Vic seemed clued in to the cause. Mike had long since shed his PTV Babysitting Co. hoodie and tied it around his waist as she remembered doing in second grade.

“Yes, indeed,” she replied in her own take on his fake accent before returning to her normal voice, her eyes a little glossy and mystified as she gazed at them drinking water and checking their phones. “You guys just saved countless lives. Just today. I– I guess I never realized… It’s just… It’s really something. You guys are the absolute anthesis of ignoble, I’ve never seen something so special up close. I mean, I’ve seen how fans talk about you guys online and such but… wow.”

Rowan seemed at a loss for words and Vic smiled at her in gratitude, “It means a lot to us that we mean a lot to them. I’d do anything in the world for them. And it means a lot that you think such of us too.”

“Of course, there were more than a few who looked less-than-innocently and more-than-eminently coquettish…” she trailed off, raising her eyebrow at Tony who, funnily enough, received the brunt of the failed flirtations. It took the guys a minute to decipher her phrasing but once they did Tony blushed, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

“Yeah, they all have their own way of expressing their love for the music.”

“Right,” Jaime snorted, “the music.”

“Please,” Tony retaliated, “don’t even get me started on Fuenciado.”

“Shut up,” was Jaime’s brilliant response. Rowan giggled yet again, having already stumbled upon the world of slash-fiction prior to her arrival. Noting her amusement, Jaime quirked up a brow at her, his arms folded over his chest like a petulant child, “What about Kellic?”

“Meh,” Rowan shrugged, “if they’re into that I guess I wouldn’t mind having two dads.”

This made the guys, barring Vic, crack up at her dry humor. Vic, on the other hand, stuck his tongue out in an immature gesture better suited for Jaime. “Hey! None of them are as bad as Andley.”

“Stsssss,” Mike hissed, as if having just obtained a burning iron, “someone’s feeling desperate if he played the Andley card.”

“Andley?” Rowan asked quizzically.

“Andy and Ashley, you met them last night?” Vic supplied, “Their ship has gone ballistic.”

“I… I’m not even gonna ask what that entails,” Rowan muttered, mostly speaking to herself as she shivered playfully.

“Well, c’mon,” Vic said, waving them toward the exit of the shady tent, “I wanna watch the end of Issues’s set before we head over for Sleeping’s.”

Rowan stood with a smile and began to follow them out but she nearly tripped over a loose wire, catching herself before gazing down at it without really seeing what she was looking at. Mike caught on, hanging back to put a hand gingerly on her shoulder, “Hey, you alright?” Rowan nodded yes but the movement made her dizzy. “Okay, that’s a no. You look like you need some cold water. Here, hop on,” Mike bent down in front of her, signaling that she should jump on his back. Was it her dehydration or simply that she was beginning to let these men in, just a sliver, that made her obey without hesitation? She wrapped her arms around his neck from behind, his hands holding up her legs by their grip on her thighs, and she slumped her head against the back of his neck, fitting comfortably between his shoulder blades.

“Whoa,” Vic’s concerned voice cut in, having to dart between the growing crowd near some tent they were trapped by, “what happened?”

“I think she needs some water. Maybe we should head back to the bus for some A/C too.” Mike’s voice rumbled in his bones and Rowan felt rather than heard his words.

“Guys,” Vic called, presumably to Tony and Jaime, “c’mon! Bus!”

Once they were all in line, Mike and Rowan at the back, the guys made room between the densely packed bodies for Mike to walk through comfortably. As they neared the middle of the venue, still halfway from their destination, Rowan felt the urge to vomit. Her throat seemed dry and her mouth watered, her head keeping up a steady rhythm of pounding with each step Mike took, and she knew the feeling well. She was about to be sick. She swallowed hard, trying to bury her face in his shirt as she fought to keep her meager breakfast and the third of a hot dog Vic’d made her eat inside her stomach.

Rowan, panicked, opened her mouth to tell Mike he’d better set her down before she ruined his shirt when another wave of vertigo washed over her. Her lips parted, she must’ve looked green because Vic told Mike to let her down. Mike hurried to let her down, while trying not to jostle her too much, once they reached a small open space between tents.

Rowan instantly fell to her knees, readying herself to throw up, and the guys rushed to her aid. Her hair was being held back, her back was being rubbed, water was being trickled on the back of her neck and offered to her as a drink, but she could only stare at the ground below. She turned to look at Vic, his expression of concern making her utterly mortified, and started to tell him she didn’t know what to do, she just felt so awful, but the words couldn’t make it past her parched lips.

Kellin jumped up and down, getting ready to go on stage, when he realized Vic hadn’t returned Rowan yet, nor had she replied to or read his last two texts. It was fine with him if she was having fun and wouldn’t make the show, she’d see plenty more in the future, but he at least wanted to know where they were.

Kellin looked around one more time, to be sure, but felt his phone vibrating. He grinned, feeling like he must be physic or something as he saw Vic’s name lighting up his screen. “Hey, I was just about to call you, how’s it going?”

Kellin, don’t freak out,” Vic said by way of a greeting.

That was the last thing on Earth that would keep a parent from freaking out. Instead, Kellin was suddenly hyperaware of those around him and his eyes scanned the crowd viciously as he tried in vain to see a mop of brunette curls. “Like hell! What’s wrong?”

She’ll be fine, just heat exhaustion, but they’re making us take an ambulance to the hospital to be sure. Her medical history made them a little edgy–” Vic was cut off by Kellin, which was for the best because he was rambling on with no message at that point.

“Wh– Who are you talking about, Vic?” Kellin’s voice seemed to come from somewhere far away and his vision seemed blurry as he fought to concentrate on Vic’s voice. Please don’t say what I think you’re saying, please don’t mean Ro.

Rowan. She passed out.” Dammit.

“Which hospital?” Kellin snapped, already running off the back of the stage and toward the bus, trying to figure out if it’d be faster to call a cab or if he could walk.

Local, it’s like five from the venue. Seriously, we’ve got this. Kellin, she’ll kill you if you skip the show on her account!

“Dead bodies can’t kill, and I’m sure as hell gonna make sure she has all the strength to murder me twice over.” With that he hung up, already zooming through the roadies and bands to reach the back exit. He was going to get to her whether she liked it or not.

Notes

Roll-Call of Rowan's Rad Readers:
petewentz (x a billion)

HOLY SHIT I'VE MISSED YOU ALL SO MUCH.

Ahem.

Okay, sorry, had to get that out of my system...

Now, Hello. I still feel terrible about the inconsistency in my updates and such. I apologize. x1, 000, 000, 000. Seriously.

Still, I wondered in this last month where you'd all gone? I'm sorry if I've alienated you all. I never meant to. You guys don't realize how much each of you mean to me, how much your comments mean and everything. I'm sorry if I haven't said that enough. I'm sorry if you feel under appreciated. I'd die if I did any harm to anyone who gave this story the time of day. I love you all.

I hope not to be gone this long again because it's awful. I love posting and reading what you think about them!! But good news: I have the rest of the story pretty much mapped out so I shouldn't keep you like that anymore!

Also, WE'RE ALMOST AT 13K READS AND 50 SUBSCRIBERS?! ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!

If you wondered where I went when I dropped off the planet... My bunny died. I grieved a while. I'm still in college classes. I had my 18th birthday and got my first tattoo. I finally told my mom about my self harming, and she didn't hate me like I thought, she hugged me and cried but I told her that I hadn't for a while and it was all okay in the end, she told me she'd love me no matter what. Etc....

You probably got bored if you read all that. Sorry. I missed you all so much. I don't think I can handle being away from you all or Rowan that long again!

For my own curiosity's sake, who's going to Warped Tour? Anyone going to Ventura in CA? Who are you most excited to see?

I have big plans for Rowan's future... I think you'll hate me a little at times but at the end of the day, Rowan writes herself, I just go for the ride. Also, no: you didn't miss the reveal of what Kellin saw in the file! It's yet to come and already I'm scared of your future reactions! *Hides behind Kellin so you won't kill me.* But I also think you'll really love what's around the corner.

Who liked the Ric (or Vowen? IDK–NOT A ROMANCE, mind you, JUST A CUTE LITTLE FRIENDSHIP) moments? I know some of you asked for more after HH,HW. And what about Matty and Vic's stage antics? I had fun writing this chapter but the next one's gonna be hard to do because I hate wailing on Rowan :(

What are your current thoughts? What do you see in the crystal ball for Rowan's future?

I hope to hear from some of my old friends again?? Hopefully?? It makes me wanna write more so even if you hate me drop a comment for Ro's sake???

Love to every one of you from Ro, Kell, and I,
MM

Comments

Where in the world is Mati Marie!? :(

Hey !
please continue this story... i need to know what happens to Rowan.

Xxbsx Xxbsx
5/10/16

Are you still writing this story?

Are you still going to finish this story. I'm still in love with Rowan and I really need closure. I know it's been like 8 months but please finish it. I'd still love to read it