Instinctual//George Daniel.

X: Riffs and Rifts

"Don't you dare call me a distraction. Five minutes late for your set, boo-hoo. You were like the third band of the day. You're no rockstar, Matty."

Matty's face falls as Alison's words sting deeper than she intended. He takes a step back, hurt evident in his eyes.

"You think this is a joke, Ali? Being late, losing focus—it's not about being a rockstar, it's about George acting like a professional and not losing focus. Today was our chance to show off our music to thousands of people, we've never played a show this big." Matty says, his voice laced with disappointment.

Alison realizes the impact of her words and tries to reach out, but Matty pulls away. Without a word, he walks over to George, leaving Alison standing there, regret washing over her.

The two walk away, leaving Alison to find Lola.

"Listen, George..." Matty begins, bringing George to the patch of grass behind the stage. "Whatever it was you pulled back there— It doesn't matter that it was 'only five minutes'.. we have a commitment to this band and the thousands of people who believe in us. Your late stunt could stop us from getting gigs in the future."

George pinches his nose bridge with his fingers, sighing at Matty's words. "It was five minutes Matty. Please just fucking- just fucking leave it mate. I was with Alison, the crowd didn't even notice.. They loved us."

"Jesus Christ George, I don't understand why you're so casual about it all.. I thought you were committed to this." Matty lifts his forearm, pointing at his "The 1975" tattoo. "And for what? frolicking with Alison in a field?"

George's face flushes with anger as Matty mentions Alison's name in their discussion. He clenches his fists and glares at Matty.

"Don't you dare bring Alison into this, Matty. This is about the band and our performance, not her," George snaps back, his voice filled with frustration. "At least I'm not a control freak like you."

Matty feels his face get hot, his blood boiling hotter every time George talks.

"Fuck off, fuck off George. You don't care about the band." Matty waves his hands, gesturing that he should leave.

"Maybe I don't want to be in this band anymore if I'm constantly under your thumb." George spits, storming off.

George's eyes narrowed as he stormed towards Alison, his gaze locked on her with an intensity that sent a chill down her spine. Without uttering a single word, he reached out and seized her wrist, his grip unyielding and desperate. The sudden force startled Alison, her expression morphing into a mixture of surprise and confusion.

Her body instinctively resisted, trying to pull back, but George's determination eclipsed any resistance she could muster. His fingers tightened around her wrist, leaving imprints that mirrored the weight of the rift between them. There was no room for negotiation or discussion—only George's unwavering will.

As they reach the outside of the venue, George takes out his phone and orders a taxi, his fingers trembling slightly. The tension between them hangs heavy in the air as he hastily rips off his pink performer's wristband. The band snaps, leaving a stinging red mark on his wrist.

Alison, still bewildered by George's sudden actions, finally finds her voice. "George, what's going on? Why are you so angry?"

George looks at her with a mix of frustration and sadness. "We're leaving, Ali. I can't be around Matty right now, and I can't stand to see you with him either. We're going back to your house, not mine."

Alison's disappointment is evident as she gazes back at the festival grounds, where the anticipation for Paramore's performance fills the air. She had been looking forward to experiencing that moment, and now it slips away.

"But I wanted to see Paramore," she murmurs, her voice tinged with a touch of sadness.

George's grip on her wrist loosens slightly, his anger now mixed with guilt. "I know, Ali, and I'm sorry. But things have gotten too complicated. We need some distance, and being away from Matty's place feels like the right choice."

Alison's eyes well up with unshed tears, and her voice quivers. "But what about me and Matty? What about our friendship?"

George's resolve wavers for a moment as he looks into her tear-filled eyes. His voice softens, carrying a mix of regret and longing. "Ali, I don't know. Right now, it feels like everything is falling apart. Maybe some time apart will help us figure things out."

The taxi arrives, interrupting their conversation. George opens the door and gestures for Alison to get in. With a heavy heart, she steps into the vehicle, her mind filled with a whirlwind of emotions.

As the taxi drives away, Alison steals a final glance at the festival grounds, where the vibrant lights and distant echoes of music blend into a bittersweet memory.

The two sit alongside each other in the back of the taxi, the driver's attempted small talk by was shut down by George.

"I wanted to say sorry to Matty. He looked so sad." Alison speaks, just above a whisper.

George squeezes Alison's hand, turning to make eye contact with her. "He's not worth it today, Ali. It's just all too raw to try and mend things."

As the taxi continues down the road, Alison and George hold onto each other, seeking solace and strength in their shared uncertainty.