A Small Change [Hollywood Undead]

A Haunting Chill

Jordon felt like he was going to vomit. Not the kind that was caused by alcohol, but the kind where you'd try to ask your crush out and you'd get butterflies in your stomach from all the irrational ways he or she or they would reject you, causing you to feel nauseous and throw up. Except this time, instead of asking your crush out, it was Jordon remembering the events between George and Aron, and instead of irrational thoughts of rejection, it was thoughts of overwhelmedness, and instead of throwing up, Jordon swallowed his puke, and quite frankly, also a bit of his pride.

"Why...?" Jordon said. Words couldn't describe the emotional turmoil that he was experiencing right in the middle of the stage. But it was something like a mix of disgust and confusion.

Arina noticed Jordon standing dead in the middle of the stage. "Jords!" She yelled, her hands acting as a megaphone.

Jordon shook his head. "Huh?" He blinked fast.

"Shitbag!" Arina yelled once more. "Yer part's comin' up!"

After a split second, Jordon's eyes widened behind his sunglasses. He looked directly at the audience, all of them cheering and reaching out their arms to the band.

Despite all the bad memories being brought up, he did everything in his power to get his shit together. "All of it's in the past; all of it is done. There's nothing you could do anymore."

A strange voice whispered in the back of Jordon's mind. "In your past, but not here."

Jordon inhaled sharply and made a quick mental "fuck you" to himself for thinking that. "All about self-care, Jordon." He thought to himself.

Instincts told Jordon that his part was coming up, another rush of anxiety and excitement. And with that, he took a deep breath, ready to perform with all his heart and soul in this encore.

A particular memory popped up in the back of Jordon's mind, one that will always and forever be ingrained in his brain because of that stupid fucking song.

So to pass the time for now, a flashback for you lovely people.

"Y'know, like, I'm jus' sayin', I feel like- y'know, I should get a bit more off the royalty since I made mos' of da songs... Y'know?" Aron cocked his head forward, grinning like an idiot.

"What?!" Matthew gritted his teeth. "Are you out of your mind?!"

George laughed it off, but the tense feeling of anger radiated off of him. "What're you talkin' about, brother?" Poison was spilling out of his smile.

Aron inhaled slowly, leaning backwards, his demeanor changed almost completely. "I make like, y'know, almost all'a da stuff we've put out, and I jus' think it's a lil' unfair if I only get this much." He put a small gap between his index finger and his thumb, squinting his eyes.

"We all had a part in everythin', dude." Jorel pointed out.

"Yea, but, I did everythin' for tha most part, y'know?" Aron shrugged.

Dylan slouched forward, a doink in hand. "So, if that's the case, you're sayin' I should get less money than y'all?" He furrowed his eyes.

"Well, I might as well give them money!" Matthew yelled.

"Hey, hey, guys." Jorel stood up from his plastic chair, slightly extending his arms. "I'm sure we can settle this out like adults." He glared at Aron.

"The fuck you lookin' at me for?" Aron thought to himself, biting the inside of his cheek.

George bit his lips. "Hey, no need to raise your voices, guys." He extended his arm out in an attempt to calm the others down even though he himself is completely pissed off by the words of the skinny motherfucker.