THREE

Somehow, someway, Phil and the rest of the band had ended up going to a club. They managed to convince him, and now here he was, dancing and wasted.

He didn't feel so tense or strict. For once in his life, he wasn't correcting someone's grammar mistake or crying over the fact that flies only live for a month. He also was forgetting to text his long-distance more-than-a-friend named Max.

"Dan has a tattoo on his ass?" Miles questioned, eyes wide as he snorted with laughter. Phil nodded.

"I saw it when I helped him with a clothing mishap. It's a butterfly."

At the moment, Phil and Miles were gossiping on one of the couches while Cassidy and Dan danced together. Phil eyed the two, and Miles cleared his throat.

"You know they're not together right? Nor do they want to be," Miles explained. Phil looked at him. "Cassidy's asexual. Besides, even if she wasn't, they wouldn't do anything. Dan and Cass are more like siblings, they fight all the time and they've walked in on each other naked. It's not awkward."

"What about Dan? What's his sexuality?"

"Honestly I don't know. We've asked him before but he changes the subject. Even ignores fans if they shout out the question. He's kissed boys, but he was drunk. If you manage to get it out of him, tell me, alright?" Miles playfully slapped Phil's chest, standing. "I'm bored. Wanna go do something?"

"Like what?"

As if on cue, Cassidy and Dan stumbled over. "We should all get tattoos!" She shouted. Dan nodded frantically beside her, the two having their arms around each other. They were both sweaty, Dan's hair in wisps in front of his face.

"I have a fear of needles-" Phil began.

"And I have a fear of living but I'm still here! Come on, honey, please?" Dan spoke.

Phil blushed at the nickname, until Miles whispered in his ear, "he calls everybody that when he's drunk. If he ever calls you that when he's sober, then it means something."

Phil huffed. "Alright. But if I pass out, you guys better take me home."

♪

Phil awoke to the sound of puking, sitting up groggily and rubbing at his eyes. He was on someone's couch, he inquired, looking around. Cassidy came into his blurry view, smiling brightly before calling out, "Sleeping Beauty is awake!"

"Where is everyone?" Phil yawned, going to stand before hissing at a pain at the back of his neck. Cassidy giggled.

"Do you remember anything from last night?" She flopped down next to him, brushing his hair out of his face. Phil paused to think.

"I know we were dancing, and then we went some place scary. . . Oh gosh, was it hell? Am I dead? Did we all die?" Phil's eyes went wide.

"That place might as well of been hell to you. It was a tattoo parlor. You got a needle to your neck."

"What is it?" He rubbed at the back of his neck, feeling the soreness kick in.

"We all got matching ones. It's just a music note. Dan got an extra one: the band name on his middle finger. He uses that finger a lot so I guess it's a promo for us," Cassidy breathed out, helping Phil stand. "By the way, Dan's in the bathroom puking out his hangover and Miles is cleaning up. Our manager is coming soon to discuss the tour. Anyway, I'll go get you some painkillers. Feel free to make yourself at home."

She wandered to the kitchen and Phil sauntered around, touring the place. "Is this your apartment?"

"Miles and I share it, yeah. You like it?" She responded from the kitchen.

He examined their vinyls on the shelves against the wall, to the LED lights in the corner and video games by the TV. "It's really cool. I would decorate mine like this but Dan mostly takes the control."

"I still don't understand how one of you hasn't moved out yet."

Phil shrugged. "I don't really have any other place to go. My family is kind of doing their own thing, and it's not like I've got any other friends."

"You've got me. If Dan ever says something stupid, feel free to crash here, alright? You seemed to sleep just fine on the couch," Cassidy told him, walking over and handing him the pills. He took them and Dan trudged in.

"I feel like shit."

"Maybe you shouldn't have had so many cocktails, babe," Cassidy told him. "Want some tea?"

"Please," he replied, then spotted Phil. "Hey there, lightweight."

"What do you mean 'lightweight'?"

"You barely had anything and you were drunker than I was on my sixteenth birthday. I'm proud of you for facing your fear though," Dan explained.

"I-"

"You guys really need to start locking this door," a voice cut in, said door shutting after the man. Phil turned to see a blonde-haired stranger, a tight button down on with expensive-looking jeans and shades covering his eyes. "Once you guys start getting bigger, fans will figure out where you live and waltz right in."

"Who are you-"

"You're the new kid," the man said. "I'm your manager Zach."

"Well I haven't actually agreed-" Phil tried to explain, but Miles cut him off as he strutted in.

"Don't worry, Phil. He likes to look intimidating so it throws people off. He's more like my dad than a business guy."

Zach chuckled, removing his glasses and revealing his light eyes. He sat down on the couch before eyeing Phil. "You gonna shake my hand or what?"

"Oh, right. Sorry sir," Phil apologized, shaking his hand and sitting down.

"Did you just call me 'sir'?" Zach held back a laugh before looking at the others. "This kid's adorable."

Cassidy handed Dan his tea and sat down next to Zach. "So? What's the news?"

"I've got you booked for the music festival mid-summer."

"What?" Miles choked on his coffee, beaming. Cassidy cheered. "Seriously? That's thousands of people! That's gotta be the biggest show we've played."

"How?" Dan grinned.

"The festival heard that Addicted is getting a new singer. They want the crowd to meet him, hear a new and different voice."

Phil gulped. "Sir- er, Zach," he corrected, "I haven't actually agreed to join the band yet. . . you see, I'm not very outgoing and I'm definitely not the type to sing in front of so many people."

"Well you better make a decision by this weekend. That's when the band will be on a bus, headed to their first show of the tour," Zach huffed, getting up to grab a drink. "And I highly doubt that the music festival will be pleased to hear that we're canceling. I booked this awhile ago and I've been wanting to surprise these kids. I suggest you don't disappoint."

Phil nodded nervously and Zach began wheezing, along with the rest of them. "I'm just fucking with you," Zach told him, popping open a soda can and taking a sip before pointing at him. "But seriously. From what I've been introduced to, the crowd would love you. You can't let us down. We're fun, I promise."

Dan finished off his tea. "We'll go out to give you some alone time. Sound good?" He offered. Phil agreed and the group grabbed their coats, following Zach out the door. Miles, being the last one to leave, hurried over and ruffled Phil's hair.

"It's no stress, Phil," he told him. "It's just that this band means a lot to us. We may seem happy and carefree, but Addicted is what keeps us all stable. Without it, I really don't want to think about where I'd be. . . Anyway, I support your decision no matter what. It's been nice meeting you."

Phil squeezed Miles's hand as a sign that he understood, and the boy left with his friends. Phil got into his own car and drove home. He went inside and shuffled into his bedroom, falling onto his bed.

He gazed up at the ceiling and let out a sigh. "Dear God, I am in deep shit."