Sebastian was awkwardly sat on the couch, his hands placed firmly in his lap. He stared down at them, and he noticed they were trembling slightly. He found that to be odd, considering he had never really thought he was afraid of his bandmates. Intimidated sometimes, maybe. But never afraid. He felt weird in this state, refusing to meet any of his band's curious eyes as they demanded to know what was going on. Maybe it was because, with other circumstances, his position in the band wasn't as at risk as it was now. He knew that sacking him over what he had almost done with Savannah was an overreaction, but he wouldn't put it past them. For the band being called "Skid Row," Sebastian often felt that those motherfuckers that he called his bandmates were soft. Preaching about professionalism and whatnot went against their message, yet that was all his colleagues did.

   "Don't fight that guy, Baz, you've got an image to uphold. Be professional," they'd say. "Don't say that in public, Baz. Be professional." It all felt so restrictive. This was rock 'n' roll, couldn't he do whatever the fuck he wanted? Wasn't that rock's whole message?

   The more he thought about this as he sat there, the angrier he became. For rock 'n' roll, wanting to have a quick make-out with Savannah was not a huge offense, and yet Rachel had nearly exploded on him. Sure, he could see why he did, and why the others would, too. She could be a distraction, he could use his boss status to take advantage of her, his exposed unprofessional conduct and his inability to contain emotions had become apparent. . .whatever. To Sebastian, it felt like his bandmates saw this job as an office job. Where the tiniest shit is the biggest scandal, and everyone just needs to keep their head down and file their paperwork.

   Fuck that. He shouldn't have to hold himself back because of his band's limited understanding of what rock 'n' roll was supposed to be. If Rachel came down and was looking for a fight, he'd give it to him. He knew that getting sacked was a possibility, as it always was, but he needed to stand up for what he believed in, regardless of the fear in the back of his mind.

   Sebastian raised his head as he heard Rachel's heavy footfalls clomp down the stairs. Just by the noise alone, he could tell that Rachel's steps were forceful on purpose. To send a message to the blond, perhaps.

   Instead of shrinking away, Sebastian only straightened.

   Rachel walked into Sebastian's field of vision, and the singer followed his bassist with his eyes as he stood in front of them.

   Rachel looked rough. Emotionally spent. His eyes were heavy, his shoulders slumped, and he was tiredly running a hand down his face. Briefly, Sebastian thought about how this was a good thing; if Rachel was tired, maybe he wouldn't be too hard to fight against. Maybe he'd win the fight, quickly, preferably, and he would be free to make out with Savannah to his heart's content.

   But, that thought was snuffed out when he saw the anger behind Rachel's heavy eyes. The motherfucker was ready to fight, and Sebastian knew it.

   Sebastian and Rachel stared at each other, silently, unmoving, for a very long time. Rob averted his eyes in reply, and Scotti gently cleared his throat. When that was proven to be ineffective, Snake quietly prodded, "So, what's goin' on, guys?"

   Rachel looked at Snake, almost as if he had forgotten he was even there. "Why don't you ask Sebastian?" he asked in a flat voice, crossing his arms and sneering down at Sebastian.

   "We already did," said Rob softly. "He wouldn't tell us anything."

   "Well—" Rachel began.

   "Oh, what the hell? I'll do it!" said Sebastian in a cheery tone that he knew would piss Rachel off. He looked confidently at Scotti, Rob, and Snake, and said boldly, "I went up to the recording studio to listen to Sav sing, and when she was done, we almost kissed. And now Rach has his panties in a twist. He never told me why, but I think a big part of it is that he doesn't think I'm worthy of her or something."

   Not even giving the others a chance to respond, Rachel snapped, "Because you're not! Jesus Christ, Baz, what were you thinking?!"

   "I was thinking that she's beautiful, and I wanted to kiss her!" He hopped up to his feet defensively, feeling more in control at his newfound height. He liked towering over his competition, and a smug smile curled his lips as he stared down at Rachel. He was smaller, more defenseless now. "Is that a crime or something?"

   "No, but Baz, you know how fuckin' fragile Sav is! You'd break her damn heart into a million fuckin' shards! Stomp all over it, too!" He stepped closer to Sebastian, his smaller height not seeming to deter his confidence. His chin angled up sharply so that he could hold eye contact with Sebastian, exposing his clenched jaw. "You don't live a life that would be good for her! Trying to kiss her like that. . .it'd just make her get attached to you! And then you'd just take her care for you and throw it out the window! What, with the groupies, the booze, the drugs, the fighting. . . I know how you are!"

   Sebastian felt a white-hot rage rip through his mind. "'Fragile'?" he shrieked. "You're Savannah's best friend, and you give her so little credit! She's a rock fan, Rachel! She knows what goes on. God, you act like she's this child that needs your protecting. She doesn't! She's twenty-two, and you treat her like she's ten! She can make decisions about who she wants on her own."

   Rachel's eyes flashed with anger, and he angrily picked up his beer can and crushed it. He watched as the leftover liquid that was in there spilled out, decorating the wooden floor. He didn't care, though; he needed an outlet for his anger that wasn't Sebastian's face. "I don't not give her credit. I just know her. I know her way better than you do! How long have you known her? A month? I've known her for, God, six years? And I know what will go down if you tease her like this. I'm her best friend, and I want to make sure she's okay! That's not treating her like a kid, that's being a good fucking friend!"

   "Oh, bullshit!" Sebastian snarled. He grabbed his own beer and angrily guzzled some of it. He slammed the can down afterward, wiping his mouth of excess foam. A trickle of beer still ran down to his neck, but he didn't wipe it. "If you were really a good friend, you'd support what she wants now, and if she gets hurt, you help her then."

   Sebastian sighed, pressing a palm to his forehead angrily. Rachel eyeballed that trickle of beer on his neck, and that only made him more angry.

   "I don't understand why you have such little faith in me," Sebastian mumbled. "I know I'm a loose cannon or whatever, but. . .I care about Sav. I want her to be okay just as much as you, so if there's anything I can do to make that happen. . .I will. If she has a problem with the groupies, then fine. No more backstage passes. If she doesn't dig the drugs, then I don't, either."

   Rachel scoffed, laughing bitterly. "Bullshit. I've heard this song and dance so many fucking times. 'I'm gonna change, I'm gonna change'! And you never. Fucking. Do. Savannah's screwed if she trusts you, man."

   Sebastian opened his mouth to continue, but Rachel wasn't done.

   "Besides, why are you acting like she's like. . .your girlfriend or something? We all know you just want her to be your whore for a week or two, and she'd probably be willing. She's just a new bitch for you to fuck. You're not a serious guy, Baz. Maybe you will ditch the drugs and the groupies during that time, but as soon as she gets boring, you'll go right back to that shit you always do."

   Without thinking, and while being trapped in a blind rage, Sebastian punched Rachel right in the nose.

   The brunette stumbled back, his fingers lightly touching his nose. He groaned as red stained his fingers, and his eyes flicked up hatefully at his singer.

   That's when Rob, Scotti, and Snake decided to intervene. They all went behind Sebastian and began to hold him back, cursing violently at him, all as he kept yelling, "You will not fucking talk about her like that!"

   Over and over and over.

   Eventually, Sebastian's fighting against the three men got weaker, and he eventually collapsed onto the ground, angry tears rolling down his face.

   The three men let him go, looking down at him with part sympathy for him, part sympathy for Rachel, and part annoyances of their own. They watched him closely, making sure he didn't suddenly decide to lunge at Rachel and perform a more drastic form of violence.

   Meanwhile, Rachel had shoved a tissue up his nose, feeling it become wet as it absorbed his blood. He couldn't believe what had just happened. He knew Sebastian was a basket case, but to the point of hitting him? That was toeing the line of being even crazier than a basket case. While Rachel's comment had been disrespectful, it did not warrant the shedding of blood.

   "Guys," Sebastian sobbed from the floor, craning his neck to look at Scotti, Snake, and Rob. He didn't add anything else, but it was clear that he wanted backup. He thought that he could have taken Rachel in a verbal sparring match (physical, too, but he was proven to have won that battle), but now, he felt just as emotionally spent as Rachel had looked. Arguing and having no one come to his aid was a notion that didn't sound too enjoyable anymore; sure, he would be standing up for something he believed in, but he would be all alone in the band, once again. His tough-guy facade always tried to reassure him that that was fine. Good, even, and that it showed that he was set in his morals. But, being set in his morals often felt lonely, and like no one really understood him. He wanted to be understood now, just for a brief moment.

   Rob sighed, sitting down next to him and patting his back timidly. Just by his expression, it was clear that he was afraid of Sebastian. The blond was unpredictable. A loose cannon. "I don't know, man. I do think Rachel's overreacting, but I have my own issues with what you did."

   Sebastian felt his stomach drop. Here came the professionalism thing. He was naive to have believed for even a second that anyone would come to his aid. He dismissively turned his head away, curling up in a ball on the floor.

   "It's just. . .being involved with a colleague in any type of romantic way would not be good for you. You'd get distracted by her. You wouldn't be able to focus on your work. Even if. . .even if what Rachel said was true. Even if you were just using her for a little bit."

   At the mere suggestion, Sebastian whipped his head around.

   "Not saying you wanted to," Rob squeaked, afraid. "I'm just saying that, no matter the motive, that idea blows."

   "I agree," said Scotti, also sitting next to Sebastian. "And it's unprofessional to be making out with a coworker. It's just an unspoken rule. You just don't do that. Besides, like Rachel said—in a less than eloquent way, of course—Sav is a young soul. She's just so different from you. That won't end good."

   Snake playfully tapped Sebastian with his foot, smiling awkwardly. "Yeah, I agree, too. Ditto to everything they said. But, also, she's too hot for you."

   Snake's joke did not amuse Sebastian whatsoever. He sat bolt upright, staring at his two guitarists, as well as his drummer. While he did appreciate the softer delivery (especially after he had punched Rachel), he still wasn't receiving any backup. And that was making him crazy.

   "I fuckin' hate being in this band sometimes," he hissed, hopping to his feet. "I'm always the fuckin' bad guy! No matter what I do! Shit is always my fault! I can't even kiss the girl I wanna kiss! And no one backs me up! I hate this shit! I wish I never met any of you!"

   Snake's eyebrows furrowed together in anger. "Baz—"

   "SHUT THE FUCK UP!" he roared. "I'm an adult! I should be able to fuckin' make out with the girl I think is sexy! I shouldn't have to care about professionalism and distractions or whatever, just because you guys care! I shouldn't have to live by your standards! We're a band, for fuck's sake! We're all supposed to listen to each other! Back each other up! But I never. Fucking. Get that!"

"Oh, give me a break!" Scotti scoffed, also standing up, along with Rob. "You have it so easy in this band, Baz! We let you get away with so much! And now you're throwing a bitch fit just because you can't stick your tongue down our colleague's throat?!"

Sebastian clenched his fists at his sides. "It's not just that! I—I fucking like her, guys! Don't you fuckin' see?! You're really making me spell it out for you?! I. Like. Sav! I want to be able to kiss the girl I like!"

"That's even worse," Rachel snarled, removing the tissue from his nose and groaning weakly at the sight of his blood. He haphazardly dropped it to the floor, his nose still gushing as he grabbed another. He shoved it back up there, praying his nose wasn't broken. "Because if you wanna be involved with Sav in a serious way, that means your rebellion or craziness or whatever you wanna call it. . .that means that those things will hurt her even more. You cannot fucking act on your feelings, understand? For her sake!"

"And for the sake of the band," Snake chimed in. "We'd get so much shit from the paparazzi, as if they're not in our faces enough. And, you know, all the other stuff we said."

Sebastian shook his head, unbelieving. "You guys are seriously delusional," he mumbled. "You cannot tell me that I have to just stew in my own feelings. That is not your fucking place!"

"It is if it involves the band!" Rob spoke up for the first time in minutes, causing Sebastian to glance at him in surprise. Rob hardly ever spoke up during fights, him being the most timid and levelheaded one of the group. And the fact that he had finally butted in made Sebastian even angrier, because that meant that he was seen as being seriously in the wrong.

"And what better way to not act on anything than by never seeing her?" Rachel said coldly, smiling in a self-satisfied way. "She can work from home. It's not that hard to send us what outfits she'd think would look good."

"Oh, so now you're punishing her, too," Sebastian laughed humorlessly. "Fuck you guys. I should be able to do what I want with her without a comment from any of you!"

Sebastian began to walk away angrily. Snake shouted after him, though, "I think it's pretty telling of your character that instead of working on the shit we've told you annoys us, you choose to spend your time by making moves on a hot chick! Just leave her alone!"

Not even wanting to engage anymore, Sebastian raised his arm and gave Snake the finger as he arrived at the front door. He pulled it open, stepped outside, and slammed it shut.

He realized then that he had no idea where he was going. Where would he go? He had nowhere in mind, minus a couple bars. But, if he went there and came back drunk, he couldn't imagine the physical damage he'd inflict on the band. A bloody nose was nothing compared to what he could do with a few more drinks in him.

He reached his car, looking in his pants' pocket for his keys. He used them to unlock the door as he continued to fume. He hopped in, shutting the door behind him as he brainstormed.

He then had an idea.

   Sure, not being able to see Savannah would be an effective way to lose feelings.

   But, the guys were forgetting one thing:

   He had her number, so therefore, her address was just a text away.

   So, he reached into his jeans' pocket, pulled out his phone, and opened her contact. He felt she should know what was said to him, and he wanted to blow off steam with her specifically. Being alone would just make him angrier, and her levelheadedness would surely calm him down.

   And, seeing her beautiful face again wasn't exactly a downside, either.

   He typed out his message and hit send without hesitation:

   Hey, what's your address? I need to get away from these fuckers, and I can't think of anywhere else to go :/ so, let's hang out!

   He was surprised to see that she answered immediately, and did not express any hesitation in her response:

   421 Lily St. see you soon <33

   He smiled, satisfied. His bandmates would not hold him back from Savannah.

   After putting her address in his phone's GPS, he set out for her house, his mood suddenly a lot more cheerful than it had been.