One Shot Requests. [CLOSED]

[AlexGaskarth] Whoa, Whoa - xPaintYouWingsx

Strumming the guitar, I bite down on my lower lip, realizing that something doesn’t sound right, that somehow it got out of tune. Furrowing my eyebrows, I tilt my head to the side, unable to figure out what’s wrong with it, because all of it sounds wrong, and I don’t know how that could be, considering I haven’t taken the guitar out of its case since I was in the studio, and at that time it was perfectly tuned.

Running a hand through my dark brown hair, I give up, sighing softly, leaning down to place the guitar back in its case. It must have been the working of one of the guys, the stupid prank war was started the first day of this tour, and it would go on until the last day, that’s for sure.

It got old the fifth day of tour, when they decided to add vegetable oil to my conditioner and I had to wear my hair up for a few days until all the grease was finally gone. And then, when on the eleventh day of tour, all the guys thought that it would be funny to shoot me with water guns while I was on stage, not realizing that I was wearing a white shirt.

There is always time for fun, I love having fun, but there are also limits, and things like that don’t make me laugh, they don’t make me want to stick around. The worst part about it is that the guys in my band don’t seem to realize that what they're doing isn’t funny, because they're always somehow a part of the pranks against me; let’s face it, without them none of the guys would be able to know how to prank me.

I always knew that touring would bring out a change in the guys, that touring with the bands we’re touring with would only cause them to take on their personalities. But, I never changed, I didn’t want to change, and I made it my mission to remain the same.

All the girls in the crowd, all screaming for the headlining band even though there are still hours until they take the stage, they’re wearing nothing to cover their bodies. In their shorts that barely cover their butts and the shirts that are so tight you can see their bellybuttons, they only come to see four guys and the rest of the people in bands don’t mean anything to them other than people getting in their way of seeing their husbands.

Being with them, with All Time Low, it’s fun, it’s exciting; but, the pranks and the girls are only a few of the downsides to it. He’s always around, Alex that is, and that’s a good thing, I like when he’s around, but I constantly have to worry about how I look, if my legs look too muscular in the pants that I'm wearing, if my hair looks good, if there’s any way that I can compete with some of his fans.

When I was younger, dancing was the only thing I loved, and I would dance until my legs burned, and sometimes I would continue to dance through the burning sensation. Now, dancing was something in my past, and it was replaced by singing, and that’s when all of this became possible.

Just like with every sport, there are physical changes that come about, like when a pitcher’s pitching arm is stronger and more toned than the other arm. My legs became muscular, like the legs of a runner, and they’re somewhat manly, I hate them, and Jack would always try to get me to wear the old All Time Low shorts, and every time I said no all the guys in his band would look at me and silently question why I would always avoid it.

“Jillian?” His voice startles me, I didn’t expect anyone to come and try to find me, I wasn’t trying to get lost, I wasn’t hiding, there was no reason for someone to find me; I guess I just wasn’t expecting someone to look for me, I wasn’t expecting anyone to need me.

Turning my head to see his face poking through the small space he made between the door and the doorframe, I smile softly. “Hi, Alex.” I don’t know how I got that out, how I managed to say anything, because it’s rare that it’s just the two of us alone, and the first time we were left alone I couldn’t think of anything to say.