Ash had left at some point during Hollis's dozing, as Hollis had woken up to an empty room. But Otto had done exactly as he'd said.
Otto had entered, hair slicked back, sunglasses on even though it was cloudy. A pair of Shokz hung over his ears as he approached, setting down a key fob on a small ring.
"It's yours for a while," he'd said, pulling out a small envelope. "You're in the penthouse. Here's the address and your room key."
He handed it all over, and Hollis stared with a sense of strange jealousy at the happy family of tourists pictured on the front of the Hilton envelope. He couldn't understand it, but it made him feel like an alien in his own world.
"Call if you need anything," Otto had said, and Hollis didn't look away from the envelope in his hand until Otto spoke again. "Do you remember the way to the farmhouse?"
It was a stupid question that Hollis knew was only meant to pry, but he had no fight left in him. "Yeah," he said. "I do."
"Good," Otto said, and stood still for a moment too long. He tried to cover his red eyes with his sunglasses. It didn't work.
He placed a hand on Hollis's shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. "I'm only a phone call away," he'd said before leaving.
Now, Hollis sat alone on the edge of the hospital bed, his phone a lighthouse in the dim room. It cast its glow on his bruised face as he stared at the screen, where videos and clips from their tour flooded his feed. He was waiting for the nurse to return with his discharge paperwork. His jaw was sore and his eyes still heavy, and he felt like he could lie in a bed and fall asleep for days, and perhaps that's what he would do once he got to the hotel—fall into a deep slumber where the words of the world inside his phone didn't matter. The scrolling was mindless, but he was truly searching for the criticism, the hate, the harsh words in hidden comments that were, ultimately, the reason he was here in this place at all.
I don't understand the hype.
He always sounds like he's in pain.
Their music isn't even good.
Hollis knit his brow and clicked the lock button, not bothering to close the app. Because it didn't matter how many times he tried to look away, he would eventually end up unlocking the phone and picking back up where he left off.
When he'd decided to be anonymous, he'd never considered that the mask could hide his face from the world, but it wouldn't be able to hide their words from him.
The door opened with a clack as the nurse entered, handing over Hollis's discharge paperwork with a smile. "Here you go, love," she said, handing him a packet of papers and tacking on a bunch of discharge instructions that he only half heard. He nodded his head anyway, standing up and grabbing his bag to follow her down to the lobby, where sterile air filled his lungs.
The ceiling was high and bright—too bright for a place that was so dark in his memory. Visitors sat in plush chairs and spoke with the front desk clerks, who were constantly fielding phone calls. He felt the sharpness of each inhale as he walked across the entrance, seeing his bandmates—his brothers—waiting for him near the door.
He stopped a few feet in front of them. Linden's sharp eyes, usually blunt with candor, seemed conflicted and evasive. Kai twiddled a cigarette between his teeth while Ash's mouth was a thin line, an unusual sight of complacency. Hollis wanted to thank Ash for staying with him, apologize for last night, ask him where he'd gone—anything to break the awkward silence. It was the longest they'd been quiet in each other's presence, and Hollis felt every tick of it like a drumbeat in his chest.
"So, you're bailing," Linden finally said, a deadpan statement more than an accusation. His arms were crossed, but Hollis noticed a softness in his expression, a permission to call it something else.
"Staying here for a while," Hollis corrected, the words were as hollow as they felt. "Per Otto."
Linden nodded, Kai still twiddling the cigarette. Ash focused on something nonexistent at his shoes before turning, heading toward the exit. Hollis watched him leave the hotel, framed by the glass door.
"Why?" Linden asked, as though Ash's sudden departure didn't matter at all.
Kai took the cigarette from his mouth, twiddling it between his fingers. "Some demons you have to fight alone, right?"
The words landed softly, and Hollis absorbed them. He felt seen in a way he didn't want to be, but Kai's expression seemed to be the only one that harbored no resentment. Kai's eyes remained fixed on Hollis, as if they could see right through to the mess beneath. Hollis felt the weight of Kai's gaze and found himself wanting to look away, but he didn't.
Linden and Kai exchanged glances, and Linden nodded.
"Take care of yourself, man," Linden said, the weight of his voice enough to fill the void. Hollis wished it would.
"You too," Hollis said, looking over Linden's shoulder to see Ash getting into the car idling by the curb. There was a sharp pang in Hollis's chest.
Ash hadn't even bothered to say goodbye.
Kai motioned with a flick of his head and turned. Hollis pried his eyes away from his best friend outside and followed Kai to a corner of the lobby where two plush chairs sat, half-hidden by a wall of potted plants. Kai plopped down into one of the chairs, and Hollis did the same, albeit more slowly. They sat for a while, a quiet world unto themselves.
"You know," Kai said finally, "sometimes the noise in your head has a tendency to drown out the music."
Hollis looked up from his clasped hands to see Kai had traded the cigarette between his fingers for a drumstick, twirling it over and over. He sat with an easy posture, but his eyes were sharp and attentive. He spun the drumstick like it was a part of him, like it kept his own thoughts in rhythm.
"But silence isn't the answer either," he said, stopping twirling the drumstick and staring at the tip. "You think you're running from how you feel, but it doesn't work that way. Being stagnant won't stop the noise, believe me."
Hollis let out a low hum. He didn't know what else to say, how else to respond. He was surprised by how much Kai was saying; the words were a constant trickle, instead of the rare drip they were all used to.
"I left the music once," Kai continued. "Before Willow. I thought the quiet would help. Thought I'd find myself, or lose myself, or something." The drumstick in his hand kept the tempo of his words, smooth and controlled. "But music—rhythm was my anchor. It kept me from floating away when the waves of life got too chaotic."
Hollis tapped the toe of his shoe, listening. He hadn't heard this before. It was the kind of history that none of them ever really talked about—the buried parts of themselves. Hollis thought of his own lack of anchor, how nothing had held him down except the weight of himself. The criticism.
"You don't have to fight alone," Kai said, filling in the rest of his earlier words. "You don't have to stay here. We can all figure it out together."
Hollis met Kai's eyes, searching for something that said it was okay. Instead, he found a shadow of the uncertainty gnawing at him. "I'll be fine," Hollis said anyway. "I promise. I need this, I think."
After a moment, Kai nodded. He stopped twirling the drumstick. He put the cigarette back in his mouth and stood up, facing Hollis.
"Here, then," he said, holding out his drumsticks. "For when you need to drown out the noise, instead."
The offer caught Hollis off guard. It carried more than Kai's words—more than he could say. It wasn't a plea for Hollis to go with them, but a promise that the band would wait. That they truly understood, even if they couldn't say it.
"Thanks," Hollis said, taking the sticks, the weight of them both heavy and light in his hands. Kai gave a quick smile, and in that moment, Hollis felt the depth of the unspoken understanding between them. It was more than he expected from Kai, more than he felt he deserved.
"Call us if you need anything. I mean it," Kai said, two simple words that sounded like more.
Hollis nodded and stood, watching Kai follow in the others' steps with a more hesitant stride, but there was an intensity to it.
Hollis hung back a while before making his way outside, where their car still idled at the curb outside the door. Ash sat in the front seat of the car, the window down, looking down at his phone. Hollis waited—begged—for Ash to look up, to give Hollis an opening to say what he hadn't been able to all morning. But once Kai was inside the car with the rest of them, it rolled forward and pulled away without hesitation.
Hollis watched until it disappeared into the stream of cars on the road, becoming just another part of the cityscape. He stood motionless for a long while, letting the moment settle. It took longer than expected.
The din of the street filled the silence, swells of traffic and fragments of voices. He should've moved, but found himself rooted in place, waiting for something he wasn't sure of. He listened to the honks and shouts that merged into a melody of the city, a place where he felt each second press against him.
What are you waiting for? The unvoiced question ricocheted around his skull until he pushed back.
He pulled the car keys from his pocket and started in the direction Otto had indicated the rental car was parked. His shoes scuffed against the pavement in a steady rhythm, a heartbeat that reminded him he was still here, still searching for whatever came next. He felt alone within the city's sprawl, and, suddenly, it was as if the entire city had swallowed him whole.