The Original High (Koli) ✔️

9: Heartache Hotel

The barbecue was nice, I guess. And even though it was quite crowded, everyone was pretty relaxed. As the night fell, Vic pulled out his acoustic guitar and started playing one of his songs. "I will soon forget the color of your eyes, and you'll forget mine. . ." He sang softly as his boyfriend sat by his side, staring up at him with adoration.

I decided to sit down beside him on the other side and sing along, to see if my own vocal cords were still capable of doing their job. I put my beer down beside me and smiled at Vic. He simply smiled back and cued for the start of the chorus. I then took a deep breath and we sang together. . .

"So keep in happiness and torture me while I, tell you let's go in style— a million hooks around, a million ways to die— let's go outside, it'll be alright. . ." At the last bit, Vic suddenly stopped singing. Surprised by what he did, I realized I was just too late to stop, being too much into it, so I just sang on; "But last night, you said you ended up in Palm Springs dancing on tables."

Vic then dramatically hit the last chords, holding his guitar up in the air, as a few people started cheering. "Nice job." Vic told me with a sincere smile. "I don't believe I know this Kellin. Haven't seen him in a while." He then added with a small smirk.

"Trust me, you don't want to know this Kellin." I muttered, picking up my beer again and taking a few sips. Because this Kellin was on the verge of breaking down. . . just getting a little better at hiding it.

"You have a better singing voice than you admit, Kell." Oli then complimented as he came over and sat down beside me.

I blushed just slightly at his compliment but quickly shrugged it off as I noticed Austin checking me out with a curious frown. "You're Kellin Quinn?" He then asked, sounding surprised.

"The band whore?" I quoted darkly. "That would be me."

"No, no, not that. . ." Alan then started. "You know from that song, Heartache Hotel? That's a good song. I like it."

Vic then unexpectedly started playing some chords on his guitar; the familiar notes of my song loudly playing through the crowd. Oh god. "So this is our last goodbye farewell goodnight. . ." He began to sing, apparently knowing the lyrics. "This drive makes me crazy— My thoughts are like dull headlights— My marker signs are few and far between— We're stopping for some gasoline. . ."

I looked up and saw both Oli and Vic smiling my way. This felt so awkward, and I was starting to get quite anxious from the attention. But if I really wanted to be famous in a good way, I had to learn to deal with it. I took a deep breath as I heard Vic play into the chorus of the song, and I sang. . .

"So I put thirty bucks in, it's just enough— And that's the way it's been for me loving you— This car has never felt as empty as since you've been gone— But I don't even miss you— Not for one second, I'm not looking back no— California reminds me of you, so I'll just keep driving. . . I don't even miss you— No not those pretty eyes or perfect lips no— Why can't I just stop, stop, just stop— Just. . . stop."

I felt my heart racing in my throat as I scanned all of the band members that surrounded us. Some smiled, others were too busy doing other things, and some looked just a bit judgmental.

Vic soon continued playing guitar and singing with others as I then took my chance to leave the crowd. My heart was beating faster and faster, pounding in my throat, and suddenly it became hard to breathe. I stormed over to the nearest tour bus and leaned against the side of it, trying to calm myself down.

"Shit, are you okay?" I then heard a voice ask with great concern.

I opened my eyes and focused in the dark, recognizing that it was Oli. His bright, hazel eyes shining through in the darkness. I took a deep breath and nodded. "Anxiety." I breathed admittedly, remembering Vic's words in my head about being honest with him.

Oli gently placed a hand on my shoulder and inspected my face thoroughly. "Are you having an attack?" He questioned.

I shook my head as I gradually felt myself calm down a little. "I'm okay. . . just gonna head to bed, I think. Thanks." Oli threw me an approving smile and then walked back to the campfire.

After he left, I headed to the band's bus, craving something strong to make me feel better. But the Xanax I had would simply have to do.

"Hey Quinn, darling, wait up!" I heard the familiar British accent of singer Danny Worsnop call out to me. I turned around to face him as I watched him speed-walking my way. "So is all of that stuff true what they say about you?" He then questioned.

I sighed, not really wanting to talk about it. "What part?" I decided to ask anyway.

"Your little drug problem." He mentioned with a slight smirk. "If so, I can hook you up with something." He pulled a small bag from his pocket and waved it in my face. Instantly I recognized what was inside. "This new stuff is pretty rad. I'm sure you've heard of it."

It was the same orange little pills that Matty had brought around that one time. I nodded, admitting that I had used it before. "Yeah I know what it is." I murmured, looking away.

"Well, do you want it, darling?" I bit my lip, looking back at the bag for a moment. It was so hard for me to resist, but I had been more or less clean for a good week. I shouldn't give up now. I sighed and shook my head, already feeling the regret of saying no.

"Well you know where to find me." Danny shrugged with a wink and then walked off. I clenched my fists and groaned. Fuck, this just became even harder. I quickly made my way back to the tour bus, undressed, downed some Xanax and tried to go to sleep.

Why did that asshole have to come up to me and offer me shit?