Last Hope {a paramore fanfiction}

Chapter Thirty One

January 2011

I stumbled out of the taxi, and steadied myself as I stood on the sidewalk. The sudden noise of traffic made me wince, along with the bright sunshine. I looked in my bag for my sunglasses and purse. "Ma'm, it's still winter, why are you wearing those sunglasses?" laughed the jolly taxi driver. But I wasn't in the mood. "I'll do what I'll please, your job is to drive people not fucking critique them," I said. He fell silent. "How much?" I asked, opening my purse. "Nothing, I don't want anything from you," he said, and drove away. I instantly regretted what I had said. I had been regretting a lot of things as of recent.

I walked up to the buzzer of the building in front of me. I looked at the what appeared to be a jumble of numbers and buttons, holding my finger out in front of me, as if this would focus my sight. The numbers finally stopped moving and I pressed the button for studio number 3. "Hellooooo?" Michaels cheery voice came out of the speaker. It made me feel sick. "It's me," I mumbled, my sentence followed by buzzing noise that shook my head. I slumped my body against the door and stumbled into the ground floor of this familiar building. I walked towards the steel doors of the elevator, reaching out to press the button to get to my desired floor. When the doors didn't open after persisent pushing of the button, my eyes zoned into a white sign telling me it was out of order. "Fuck."

My body rested against the wall as I made it to the top of the third floor. The stairs had nearly killed me, the constant moving up of my body making me queasy as well as causing the thumping in my head to kick into overdrive.

"There she is!" called over Michael in his overly cheery voice. I looked over to see the three guys along with some of our team, the officials that sorted important stuff out for us. Michael, Dan and Frank stood up and began to walk over to me. As Michael reached his arms out to hug me I raised my hand. I wasn't in the mood. "Not feeling good," I said. Michael looked at me and slowly lowered his arms. I peered through my mirrored sunglasses, the only things that were able to cover the dark under circles of my eyes along with the slight redness that tinged them. But he knew. He knew straight away what was up, and I saw it in his face. He didn't say anything and slowly walked back to where he had been sitting, Dan and Frank following suit, confused by what had just happened. The six guys sat across two sofas in the corner of the room. I sat as far away as I could, in an armchair that was opposite them all.

The meeting was to discuss the next step. We had finished touring with Paramore in November, and from then on gone off on a long break. I had barely talked to any of them in that time. I spent my time with Sam and in clothes and getting so drunk I couldn't stand. They wanted to spend Christmas with me, but I made up a hastened excuse, and spent Christmas in my pokey apartment by myself. New Years was a different story, as me and Sam went out to at least five clubs in one night before heading to someone's apartment. I was still not sure what happened that night, but I was the one smoking...stuff, whilst Sam disappeared into a another room. In he next few days after that the guys contacted me, reminding me I was still in a band. It wasn't a good idea to go out the night before the early morning meeting though.

"What do you think Bethan?" I snapped out of my thoughts to see everyone looking at me from across the table. Frank had asked me the question, and I looked at him, my mouth slightly ajar. He tried to help me out. "About doing our own tour? Around the US? More states then we've ever done."

The simple sentences were ones of such complex issues. The young Bethan that came to LA in search of someone hearing her voice, and thinking she was about to embark on the biggest adventure of her life with her new band of Please Clarify, would have fainted at he thought of a huge US tour. However, the Bethan sitting in that chair that day would have fainted from standing up with the sheer amount of alcohol she had consumed the night before, heavy in her head.

"I..I don't know guys," I mumbled. Dan sighed and Michael rolled his eyes as Frank slumped forward in his seat. I tore off my sunglasses, and leaned across to them. "What? Am I not entitled as the lead singer to maybe not want to go on a tour?" Michael stared at me and crossed his arms. He already knew what Frank and Dan had just discovered. "Bethan...have you been drinking?" Dan asked.

I could have said yes and asked if we could meet later so I could sober up, but I wasn't in the mood. Sam had been talking about this for a while. He suggested that the band wasn't good for me and was always tiring and taking time out of my life. He seemed to get annoyed every time in the past few months since we came off tour and people would ask for photos or autographs. At the time I thought nothing of it. Sam hadn't hurt me like the night we moved in, but he had a habit of grabbing my arm hard and creeping up on me, shocking me.

"What? How dare you Dan!"

"Well, have you?!" Frank demanded. Of course I had. I had gotten only a couple of hours of sleep, not long enough to be hungover, it was like I was still half drunk. "We can't do this today guys," said Andy, our tour manager. "This is highly unprofessional," commented Ryan, a rep from the label. "Oh whatever," I mumbled. "Hey! O'Connor! Remember who signed you guys and try to remember the respect you used to have for people,' Ryan said and left with the other guys. As they walked over to the other side of the room, Michael followed them to try and make them say but they just shoke their heads and repeated again and again to his pleas "not today."

The door shut and Michaels sigh echoed through the room. He walked over to the sofa and slumped down in his seat. The three of them sat across from me and stared at me as I fiddled with my thumbs. I didn't even dare to breath, worried that the sound would fill the room with noise. "Bethan." Oh shit, here it comes. "We're worried about you." I looked up at Michael. "Why?" I leaned back in my chair and stared at them. It was their turn to be uncomfortable. "...We knew something was up by the end of the tour. You seemed to snap with everyone..and you didn't want to put effort in to anything," Dan said catiously. "Yeah, and you were fucking rude to everyone. In the last month after spending a year with some of those people that were on tour..and even the guys from Paramore and You Me At Six...you were just horrible." Frank's harsh truths hurt me. "Thank you Frank, you dick." "Whatever," he said.

"Ever since Sam...and ever since you've started going out everynight...you get blackout drunk...and we can smell whatever you smoke a mile off." It was Michaels turn to talk. "How does this effect you guys? I'm still in this band, aren't I? I showed up today, didn't I?" "Yeah, half drunk and half stoned," said Dan. "It doesn't matter about the meeting, it's you we're concerned for," Michael said and stood up. He reached out his hand to rub my arm. I thought of Sam grabbing me and jumped up out of my seat, taking a few steps back. "You're not my friends. If you were you'd stay out of my business and realise I'm fucked up either way." "Bethan, don't say that," Dan said and stood up. Frank did the same. "We're family," Frank said. "We're not family. We're nowhere close. We're people who made up a crappy band with a crappy name and played my crappy songs. And do you know what?"

It was like letting go of a mirror. Ruining clear cut beauty in an instant, and ruining it to the point it couls never be fixed.

"I'm done. It's done." "No Bethan," Michael said. Frank sat down in the chair and held his head in hands. Dan steadied himself against the arm rest of the seat. "No, you can't. You can't Bethan. This band is meant to be. Remember when we first met on your first day her-" "Shut up. It's done. It's over. Say whatever you want to say to people, I don't give a shit. I never did and I never will." "Bethan, please, you can't," Michael said. The room was filled with a silent sob from Frank. What had I done? "Bethan-" "DONT SAY MY NAME, DONT TOUCH ME," I screamed in his face. He took a step back. I had broken him. I began to shake and ran down the stairs.

I ran out on to the sidewalk and sat on the edge of the road. I couldn't control my breathing, I felt my chest falling in. I couldn't stop it. You're supposed to stay in one place and breath when it happens but I had to get away from there quick. I ran on my shaking legs, sobbing and panting, my throat feeling like it was bleeding. It was all over. It was all over.