I've figured out every hour in every day, except tonight

Prompt: There wasn't really one. Just Amped bringing its drama.
Characters: Kiley Marshall, Phoebe Marshall, Chris Fraser, Harrison Blake, Tyler Wilcox, Eric Hayes, Tristan Emery (Amped)
Timeline: Start of Season 2.
Word count: 4, 162 (Total). This part, 1, 924.
Author’s comments: So I just wrote this in the last couple of hours, channeling that inner angst and self doubt. It's been a while and it feels good just to churn something out again, so forgive any dodginess. It isn't really structured properly, more broken and offering bits and pieces of the day of ESM's first homecoming show. Different perspectives, mostly Kill though. There is a hell of a lot of backstory happening with Amped, we just can't help ourselves, so this plays on that. I'll post the rest tomorrow night.

- - -

The student union still looked exactly the same. It hardly seemed fair, Kill thought as she looked around the room. In the months that had passed since her last visit here, her life had irrevocably changed and it seemed wrong somehow that there wasn’t a physical manifestation of this. Her eyes danced across the stage, the bar and the tables, dodging memories as they went. Everything changes, but everything stays the same. She ignored the dull ache in her stomach, stopping her thoughts from dwelling on the look, the smell, and the feel of the place, all of which only served as a reminder of the past. In fact, Kill stopped thought altogether and merely concentrated on breathing. In. Out. Constant. Safe. Breathing was neutral ground, a necessity that allowed everything else to just fade into the background if she focussed enough. It was the only was she could keep going, the only way she could keep living her dream. She had wanted this life, she still wanted it. So what if there was something else she wanted too, something more. That didn’t matter anymore. She couldn’t afford to dwell on the what-ifs and still live this dream of hers. So she masked her emotions and did her best to never think beyond the present.

Grounded again, Kill ran her fingertips along the edge of a table, its surface sticky with the evidence of many great nights. Her eyes found Tyler as he pulled the new bassist along beside him – Jim? Dom? Kill never could remember his name. It had been possible for Blake to record most of the bass and synth for the album, but in the end the cold truth had remained. They needed a new member if they were ever going to play live again. They had put it off as long as they could, subconsciously Kill had thought, but now the new guy would have his first show in the very place it had all started. The symmetry of it all would normally have amused her, but Kill had little thought for it now. The only way she could keep up this masking-of-emotions business was if she thought only of the band and her role within it. It was all that mattered. No, it was the only thing she would allow to matter.

A hand on her shoulder made her jump and she turned to find Chris grinning at her. She recognised the mischievous look in his eyes immediately and returned his smile brightly. It was always a welcome distraction when Chris was scheming and he knew she was always in. With only a slight nod of his head, they set off in the direction Tyler had disappeared in.

***

Phoebe watched her sister surreptitiously from the opposite side of the venue. Not that Kill would have noticed if she had simply been staring, but that in itself was part of the problem. She was so wrapped up in watching for any sort of emotion from Kill that she didn’t notice Blake approaching until he rested his chin on her shoulder.
“What are you thinking about?” he asked, wrapping his arms around her.
“Nothing.” she replied, leaning back against him. She was still getting used to the new dynamic in their relationship, but she’d be lying if she said it wasn’t damned nice.
“Nothing, nothing? Or my boyfriend’s so hot I have to spend my free time puzzling over it, nothing?”
Phoebe turned to him, arching an eyebrow. “Not everything’s about you, Harry.”
“Shocking!” Blake quipped, looking scandalised.
“I know.”
Phoebe turned back to watch her sister as she absentmindedly trailed her fingers over a table. She was staring into the distance, as if completely oblivious to her surrounding. Phoebe frowned again and Blake noticed, following her gaze.
“Kill?” he asked, looking back at Phoebe.
“Yeah. I’m worried about her.”
“Why? She’s fine.”
“No,” Phoebe said, shaking her head, “She’s not.”
Blake turned his attention back to Kill again just as she smiled brightly at the newly arrived Chris. He watched the two of them lean together conspiratorially before they set off after Tyler and Jim.
“Yeah, she is.” he insisted, “Look at her, she’s just like she always is. Into the band and up for a challenge.”
Phoebe pulled away from him, still frowning after her sister. “But that’s all she is.”
“Ok, you’re losing me here.”
“When’s the last time she’s shown any interest, emotion even, for anything outside of the band? It’s like she’s not in there when she’s not working.”
“She’s always been way into the band though.” Blake countered, still looking confused.
“You’re just seeing what she wants you to see” she said, shooting him an exasperated look, “I know her better than to fall for that.”

***

Kill was still trying to get washing powder out of her hair, evidence of the latest practical joke, when Blake clapped his hands together.
“Right,” he began, game face on and sounding all business, “Better get on with sound check then.”
Everyone scrambled to get organised and Kill watched as he-of-no-name slung his bass across his skinny frame. She cocked her head slightly, one hand still fluffing her hair, as she tried to make sense of the scene in front of her. It simply refused to fit into her picture of the band, no matter how much she wished it would.
“Kill?” Blake called, startling her out of thought.
She looked up at him confused, meeting his questioning stare. “Hmm?”
“You ready?”
“Wha - Oh! Oh, yeah. Sorry.”
She scrambled across to the sound booth as realisation dawned on her. She ignored the pang she felt when she looked back up at them from her position, and bit the inside of her cheek when she noticed her hands shaking as they hovered over the controls. Sound was something Eric had been teaching her and she wasn’t used to doing it alone. In and out, she reminded herself firmly, forcing a smile. None of the guys seemed to have picked up on anything weird, which was a small mercy at least.
“Okay, Blake. Let’s go.” she said loudly, amazed at how steady her voice was. She threw herself into the work, blissfully losing all thought in the noise for the next half hour.

***

Phoebe entered the dressing room to find it deserted except for Kill. She was sitting on the floor staring at the opposite wall without apparently seeing it.
“Where is everyone?” Phoebe asked, watching her sister blink a few times before turning to look at her.
“Outside. Smoke break, I think. You know how they get with this hurry-up-and-wait business.”
Phoebe nodded and watched her for a few minutes. Kill didn’t say anything more, instead dropping her gaze to a book she held in her lap.
“Is everything ok, kiddo?”
Kill’s head snapped up immediately. “Of course, why wouldn’t it be?”
“I don’t know. You just seem a bit out of it.”
“I’m just tired.”
“You know you can always talk to me, right?”
“Of course,” Kill replied, smiling, “But everything’s fine. You really don’t have to keep asking.”
“No harm in checking,” Phoebe shrugged, “I’m going to find the others. You wanna come?”
Kill shook her head, eyes firmly on her book again. Phoebe took the hint, letting her gaze linger for a few more seconds before leaving the room. She didn’t miss the twitch of Kill’s jaw.

***

The room was slowly filling up under Kill’s watchful gaze, the air buzzing with excited chattering and anticipation. Nearly everyone on campus was turning out for the big homecoming show, all looking forward to a good time. Her eyes flicked across the room, taking in the ever increasing amount of faces on every round and searching for familiar ones. The minute her gaze landed on the bar, she felt a slight thrill of recognition thrum through her as she spotted the lean, blonde figure of what could only be Tristan Emery. He leant forward to grab two drinks, the perfect line of his back clear in her line of vision. She had to hand it to the boy, he really was gorgeous. She followed him as he moved through the throngs crowding the bar until he reached a table. As he rested his hand on the occupant’s shoulder in a familiar movement, Kill’s heart found a new home in her larynx. Eric twisted around in his seat to accept the drink, and she quickly moved away to rejoin the others. It didn’t matter. It really didn’t. There was no reason for it to matter. If she was honest with herself, maybe she’d been hoping to see him while at the same time she really hadn’t wanted to. But honesty wasn’t high on her list of priorities these days. It didn’t change anything. He left them. He left her. He always told her nobody waited for anybody, and clearly he lived by his own rules. At that moment, Kill wished she could live by his rules too.

***

The venue was buzzing with excitement. Everything had started out so ordinarily. The new bassist seemed to struggle a bit but everyone was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. Before they could really see if their faith would be returned, Eric Hayes was on stage, practically pushing the poor guy off. The crowd went mad. This was Evil Spacemonkey as they were meant to be. This was everyone’s dreams come true. It was definitely shaping up as a night to remember.

***

Kill couldn’t believe it. She simply could not believe it. After everything, he just took to the stage and joined in…like he belonged there. Which of course he did, but that didn’t make it any easier to watch. It didn’t stop her heart from trying to simultaneously jump for joy and shrivel into a tiny insignificant speck, never to be seen again. No. She couldn’t think like this. It wasn’t like that between them, that much he’d made clear. She had no reason to act like it was. That would be pathetic. He was good for the band, and the band was all that mattered. Nodding to herself as to affirm her resolve, she continued stacking the boxes.
“Kill,” he spoke so softly, she would have thought she’d imagine it if not for the feeling of a physical presence behind her. She straightened slightly but didn’t turn around.
“Eric.”
There was shuffling and she stiffened.
“Please don’t.” he said, still so softly.
She squeezed her eyes shut quickly, before turning around. Her eyes immediately locked with his blue gaze and she had to look away before continuing, “Don’t want?”
“Don’t do this.”
“Do what?” She made the mistake of locking eyes again.
“This! This pretending everything’s ok. Because it’s not. Nothing’s been ok, not since –”
He didn’t get a chance to finish because Kill kissed him. She kissed him with all the anger, fear and passion she’d been bottling up for the past three months, and he kissed back. When they pulled apart, Kill drew back her right arm and punched him.
“Jesus!” Eric exclaimed incredulously, hand against his jaw.
“I won't let you fuck this band around again,” she said coolly, glaring at him and refusing to acknowledge the throb of her knuckles, “You’re either in for the long haul, or you’re out.”
Eric stared at her for a minute. Without saying a word, he turned and left the room. Kill didn’t even notice that she had started shaking. She merely sat on the nearest box, cradling her hand against her chest with her eyes fixed firmly on the door.

***

Music: I fill up the time - Rose
Mood: Accomplished