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• s i x t e e n •

Finn's POV:

I got up on the stage, feeling the rush of jitters just like every other time I get up there. I held my guitar, throwing the strap behind my neck, and adjusted the mic at centre stage.

"Hello, Chicago!" I yelled into the microphone, "It's bloody hot today, isn't it?" 

A cheer roared from the crowd, and I strummed my guitar to the chords of Wasting Time.

It was about halfway through the show, and we were doing pretty good. I was so hot though, I was being baked. I was an idiot, and wore black jeans and a black t-shirt.

Being my weird unexpected self, I took my shirt off and threw it to the back of the stage. I walked up to the microphone when the song ended.

"Don't blame me, it's fucking hot," I complained to the crowd, and a bunch of girls screamed. It's weird how I keep ending up in situations where I say I don't want to be sexualized, or I don't want people taking pictures of me when I'm not fully clothed. And yet, here I am.

A while later, the show came to a close. I messed up the lyrics in City Boy again. It always happens. This time: because I was so excited for the Emmys.

I packed up my guitar, and grabbed my backpack from my backstage.

"Good show today guys," the stage manager said, and we thanked him on the way by.

Jack, Malcolm, Ayla and I exited the complex and made our way to the street where we waited for a cab.

"Jesus Finn, put your damn shirt on," Malcolm said, and I immediately felt exposed. I took my backpack off, and put my t-shirt back on, feeling self conscious.

Ayla hailed a cab, and we all climbed in, she sat shotgun. We arrived at our hotel, where the three of them would be staying for the next few days. I, however, was leaving that evening.

We chatted in the elevator on the way up, discussing how we thought the show went and that stuff. The door slid open, and we slowly walked to our room. Jack got out the key and scanned the door, and we all walked in.

I put my stuff down on the floor beside a couch, and plopped down on the couch with a sigh.

"Something wrong, Finnie boy?" Malcolm asked.

"I don't know. Just kind of stressed," I replied honestly. I was feeling anxious, I had a lot going on in the next 24 hours.

"Don't be, you'll be fine," Jack said, and I gave him a sad smile.

"Hey," Ayla said softly, sitting down beside me, "It's going to be okay."

"Thanks, guys," I said gratefully.

"Anytime, bud," Jack replied, opening the fridge looking for something to eat as usual.

We sat around for a while, until about six thirty LA time, when I knew the Netflix party would be starting. I was upset that I was missing out on it, since the rest of the five kids would be there.

"Okay, well I should start to get ready for my flight to LA," I stated, standing up.

"Take a shower first," Ayla recommended, and I nodded. I grabbed my bag, and went to the bathroom. I set my bag on the floor, and turned the shower on hot. I stripped down, and opened the door to the steamy shower. The water hit my back like burning gravel pellets. 

I didn't mind though. I needed something to distract me from my crazy schedule.

When I finished washing the conditioner out of my hair, I turned off the shower and grabbed a towel. I dried off, and put a towel over my hair and violently rubbed it from its moisture. I threw the towel over the top of the shower door, and got dressed in my black Roots sweatpants and white Calpurnia hoodie.