PUMPKIN /// MITCHEL CAVE

twenty-five

The boys are playing one rouge show in Cairns tonight at a small nightclub called Victoria's. Mitchel has promised not to drink, since Christian and Clinton plan on doing so. We're backstage already, and it's about fifteen minutes before showtime. Mitchel's been nursing a Monster Energy, while Clinton is already buzzed off of Coronas. I'm not sure where Christian is; he and some girl disappeared off to a dressing room about an hour ago, and I don't want to go investigate the matter. 

"You have your earplugs, right?" I nod, and Mitchel presses his lips to my forehead. "Good. Please be careful tonight, babe."

"I will be," I smile up at him. "Don't worry; I'll be right here all night for you to stare at."

"Good," He hums before kissing me. "I like your face."

"Hey," Christian mutters, walking back into the sidestage area.

"Where have you been?" Mitchel groans, giving a light shove to his shoulder. 

"You know the answer to that question." He takes a seat on one of the sofas, grabbing a Monster Water. "At least I'm back on time."

"Yeah," Mitty sighs, running a hand over his face. "Thanks for at least that much."

Clinton stumbles back into the room, grabbing onto my shoulder for support. "Jesus Christ you're fucked." I grab his upper arms, stabilizing him. "You're fucking shitfaced Clinton oh my god."

"He's good enough to go onstage," Mitchel mutters, more to himself as he puts Clinton's guitar over his brother's chest. "Hey, Alexis...I love you; stay safe." Mitty hums and kisses my lips for a brief moment. Christian and Clinton step onstage, and he touches his lips to my temple one last time before stepping onstage. 

I watch from sidestage, grinning with pride. My fingers fiddle with the ring on my necklace, and I feel a smile take over my features. I always love watching him play. I can tell how absolutely happy it makes him to be onstage. There's truly nothing he loves more than performing. 

"Hey," 

The voice next to me is muffled due to the orange earplugs I have in. I raise an eyebrow. I've never seen this person before, nor do I know how he got backstage. "Uh...hi?" Before anything else can occur, I quickly turn my focus back to the stage, but the man next to me only gets closer. 

"My name's Harlem....I produce for them. You must be Alexis," I shudder at the way my name rolls off his lips. Of course, the first day I'm cleared to actually go outside without a chair and on my own―this happens. "You look beautiful." I don't respond, only inch myself closer to the stage and lock my arms tightly around my bump. I hear Harlem take another step behind me. Seconds later, I feel his breath on the back of my neck. I close my eyes tightly and silently beg for Mitchel to turn and look at me. He won't, however; I know that. He's too engrossed in his performance to be stealing glances my way. As far as he knows, I'm safe backstage. 

I feel his hand around my necklace, and I intake a deep breath. When he pulls, my ring and the chain hit the ground. Tears fill my eyes immediately. "You don't need that, miss. He just got you that for show...you know that right?" I swallow harshly, tears falling down my face. Hands touch my stomach, and when I flinch backward I'm running into Christian. 

"Woah, hey." He mutters, immediately spinning me around to face him. I'm hyperventilating, and under the scrutiny of the crowd I only feel myself getting worse. "Alexis; Alexis breathe." Mitchel rushes to my side, and a murmur takes over the crowd. 

"Where's your necklace? What happened?" His voice is laced with anxiety as he grabs ahold of my arms. "Alexis, you gotta breathe. C'mon, you're okay." Bright lights go off at the side of my vision, and I know photos are being taken. 

"There's this guy―" I find myself short of breath as I try to breathe. "He's back there and, and he grabbed my necklace and he broke it and my s-stomach." I can't stop my sobs as the words tumble past my lips. "My ring's back there and and Mitchel, I'm, I'm sorry." 

"Hey, calm down. Christian, get security." Mitchel brings me into a hug. Although it's awkward around my bump, I still find myself sobbing against his chest. "I'm so sorry for leaving you," He mutters, placing a kiss to my temple. I'm vaguely aware of the crowd in front of us soon, but that's irrelevant right now. 

"Mitchy? My ring," I whimper, dropping my arms from his back to hold my bump. "I want my ring back."

"We'll get it; don't you worry." Mitchel tilts my chin up, holding my face between his thumb and first finger. Our eyes meet for only a moment, before our lips touch. I instantly kiss back, and even though I know photos are being snapped, I'm oblivious to it. When I'm with Mitchel, nothing else ever matters. "Come on,"  He mutters as we break apart. "Let's go get your ring."

Luckily, when Mitchel picks my necklace from the ground the chain isn't snapped like I had thought. It simply became detached, but the chain was still in one piece between Mitty's fingers. He latches it back around my neck and plants a kiss to my nose. "Come on now," He mutters, taking my hand. "Let's go home."

"You've got a show to finish." I remind him. Mitchel looks out at the crowd before shrugging.

"Yeah, you're more important. Let's go home, Alexis."