Total pages in book: 140
Estimated words: 129207 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 646(@200wpm)___ 517(@250wpm)___ 431(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129207 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 646(@200wpm)___ 517(@250wpm)___ 431(@300wpm)
They worked their asses off to get here, and they deserve every bit of their success, and despite how happy I am in this moment, I’m also devastated that I could never put my pain aside for one single night to witness Axel perform like this. It would have made him so happy to see me standing in the crowd. God, the smile on his face would have split his stupid head in two, but it would have been worth it.
I’m not going to lie, being in his world like this has been crippling. Seeing someone else on the stage where he should have been guts me, and hearing the solos he created has tears welling in my eyes. But I stick it out for Ezra, knowing he’s feeling it just as deeply as I am.
I can’t believe I kissed him. I’ve waited eleven long years to feel the way his lips would move over mine, and it was everything I always thought and more. The way I melted into him, the way his arm snaked around my waist. It was like two broken halves finally finding one another and molding back together. In reality, that’s not at all what happened. We’re still just as broken as we always were, and despite how incredible that kiss was, it’s not enough to erase the pain he caused.
And standing here, listening to song after song, really isn’t helping.
His lyrics are deep. Some are ice cold, while others are warm and inviting, but no matter how they sound or the intention behind them, every single one feels like a knife to an artery.
The boys slow it down, and Ezra switches out his electric guitar for his acoustic before taking a seat on a tall wooden stool. The lights in the stadium fade out, and all I see is a single spotlight on Ezra as he strums his fingers across the strings.
My heart sings, reminded of the way he used to sit at the foot of my bed and strum his guitar as he worked out new melodies and tried to figure out how to fit the lyrics into them. I recognize the tune to one of the melodies Axel wrote right at the very beginning—before they’d even started doing gigs. This song was never released on the album, the boys wanted to keep it just for themselves, but when the massive LED screen lights up with a montage of my big brother, I understand why they did it.
Tears fill my eyes as I listen to the soothing sounds of Ezra’s voice while watching my brother smile at the camera. There are clips of him on stage from the beginning of the Bleed for Me tour, and then some from their earlier tours. As the song goes on, Ezra’s voice begins to crack, and I realize he’s about to break. It’s too much for him, and I silently will him to look at me, and then as if reading the very thoughts in my mind, his gaze shifts and lands right on me, and with his stare locked firmly on mine, he sings out the rest of the song.
When it comes to an end, he gets off the stool and makes his way across the stage, walking right over to me. He hands his acoustic guitar to his stage manager and takes the water offered. He tips the bottle to drink, but with every passing second, he doesn’t take his eyes off me.
“Rae,” he breathes, dropping the empty bottle and stepping into me, wiping the tears off my face.
“I’m good,” I tell him, capturing his hand and lowering it. “Just go. I’ll be okay.”
With that, he nods, and as he makes his way back to the stage, I realize just how unfair I’ve been to him. I’ve been so angry about the way they abandoned me and how they left me there at the hands of my father. I’ve blamed him for things out of his control, especially when it came to Axel. I begged him before he left to watch out for him, to keep him safe, and I realize now that I never should have done that. They were only nineteen when they left to chase their dreams, only kids, and Ezra was already dealing with the guilt of having to leave me behind. I never should have put that pressure on his shoulders, and afterward, at the funeral, I never should have told him he was at fault.
He couldn’t have seen it coming.
I never knew just how much the boys were dealing with until standing here in this stadium, never knew the kind of pressure they were under. In my young mind, they were just a group of idiots playing for their fans, but it’s so much more than that. They have the whole world waiting for them to fail, and when they do, the media is right there to splash it across every news outlet across the globe.