I will never eat another hotdog again.

That afternoon our plane landed in Ireland. It was at the last stretch of the tour and all of us were eager to finish it. Which led me to think about the aftermath. Was I going home, or staying here forever? I knew what Angus wanted, but I didn't know what I wanted.

It's not like my life back home was the most exciting, but it was still mine. And the future would be altered if I didn't come back. I'd never see my family or Vee ever again. But if I did go back, I'd never see Angus again. My predicament was lousy and I didn't even get to choose the outcome. But maybe that was a good thing. With my luck, I'd only end up choosing the wrong one. Not to mention there was no telling when I'd go back. Each day was a time bomb that may or may not be defused.

We didn't stay at a hotel this time. We stayed at a cottage overlooking the sea. The wind kissed my cheek right before we stepped inside. It was cozy, big enough, and very-brown. The walls were all painted a mocha and the couches were a rich chocolate. An upstairs led to a balcony overlooking the living room. Four bedrooms were tucked away and the couch had a pullout bed. One thing I noticed about Angus and I's bedroom was the lack of the couch. Before Angus and I shared a couch or even had our own rooms, I took the bed and he took the couch. We never shared a bed the whole time except the night he took me out to the park and-made his move.

I wasn't uncomfortable, just nervous. I knew neither of us would try anything and we were really close. But still, the thought makes you think.

I wouldn't dare ask him to share with one of the guys and I didn't really want to share with anyone else. Angus didn't think anything of the situation or at least didn't say anything. We let Cliff and Georganne take the biggest room. They were our main concern. Not that the baby was due any day now. Not even close. But we wanted Georganne to be comfortable, and if that meant giving up a little space then so be it. Phil insisted he take the pullout. He wanted his own little room instead of sharing the whole floor. Malcolm, the other one who would have gotten the pullout, due to Brian being allergic to the sheets, was perfectly fine with it.

August 11th 1997

The concert was the next day. It was smaller compared to the recent venues but it was a nice change. I watched from backstage as usual. During the middle of the show, Angus walked further and further from the crowd, and more towards the stage. It wasn't obvious. He'd scissor walk to the left side, then make his way backward, run to the right, and repeat. It wasn't obvious but I sure noticed.

Eventually he disappeared. He had run backstage, completely hidden from view. His guitar was still clear as ever, and even more so for me. Although even I couldn't see him. Brian had taken an intermission during the song while Angus did his solo. The crowd had quieted down waiting for something to happen. Phil's rhythm was clean but raw, and Malcolm and Cliff complimented it perfectly.

Angus' guitar had quieted down. His fingers were softly rubbing the strings on the neck. But I still couldn't see him. The chords grew louder till a cresendo filled my ears. Angus ran toward me and put a hand to the back of my head. He pulled me in for a kiss, right on the corner of my mouth. It was closer to the center than he might have meant but he didn't fix it. His left hand kept playing the strings on the neck, his right hand holding me and he kept kissing me. It was only one but it was firm. He had planned it long before today.

Finally he broke away and ran back out to the stage where the crowd exploded. The sound was deafening now from both the band and the audience. But I barely noticed.

I watched Angus run like a madman out there the rest of the show. Brian picked up where he left off and finished the song. In two hours the show was over and the band came backstage.

"What the hell was that?" I asked walking up to the man.

"What?" he panted.

"That little stunt you tried to pull, that's what." He smiled.

"And succeeded." I rolled my eyes. He grabbed three water bottles from a cooler and practically collapsed on the floor. He sat against a wall bringing his knees and a water bottle up. I watched him down the whole thing in under thirty seconds and toss it aside. The second was for his head and he kept the third one handy.

A roadie showed up and put a mask on Angus' face. I realize now it was a breathing machine. A tube connected the mask to the machine. Loud, unsteady breathing came out of him and he shook a little. It was rough to watch but I didn't want to leave him.

It was awkward though to stand there while the roadie helped him not die. I felt bad for him. His head hung down, holding the mask to his face was a shaky hand. After a minute he looked up at me and motioned me over. I reluctantly sat next to him and watched his breathing slowly go back to normal. The roadie removed the mask and took the machine away. Angus coughed a few times before leaning back on the wall.

He was a wreck. His arms glistened and his hair was stuck to his face. Both knees were cut and bleeding and I could tell he felt it. He looked like he'd just thrown up or was about to. Now was not the time for a lecture. I should just ask him why he did it. If he even felt like talking.

Angus took my hand in his and squeezed it. His breathing was still heavy but not as bad as it was. "Why did you do that?" I asked. It took him a while to answer.

"I've been plannin' that...a long time...just needed...the guts to do it."

But someone could have seen it, that was risky!"

"It's a risk I'm willin' to take."

"How do you know I am?"

"I don't."

"Exactly. How did you know I wouldn't push you away?"

"I didn't. Like I said. A risk I'm willin' to take." We sat in silence. "It was worth it." He started coughing again and I patted his shoulder.

"Look at yourself. You're practically dying."

"It's not that bad."

"Not that bad? You call a breathing machine not that bad?" He gave a weak smile.

"I don't always use it, but tonight you...you took my breath...away." He coughed again. I crossed my arms and blushed.

"You know, now is really not the time to be hitting on me." He squeezed my hand again.

"I'm not hitting on you. Just tellin' the truth." I frowned.

"Well it scared me to see you like that. I didn't like it."

"I scared you?" I shrugged. He wrapped his arms around me and rubbed my shoulder. "Didn't mean to scare you," he whispered. I sighed.

"I know."