Page 81 of Take You Down

Arun called a meeting with the four of us the second we arrived in Cincinnati this morning, reserving a large conference room at a nearby hotel. The show last night was awkward at best, and the bus ride here wasn’t much better.

The photos of me punching Reid outside the radio station are everywhere. Fans saw them ahead of the show last night and I could feel the energy was off in the arena, just like I’m sure they could tell the chemistry was off onstage. Reid and I haven’t spoken since our fight, even skipping our pre-show huddle which has been our ritual for every single performance we’ve ever done.

Nikolai and Hayden have tried to remain neutral since everything went down yesterday, but the air is still so thick with tension you can almost visibly see an overcast hovering above us all.

I lean back in the swivel chair, kicking a foot up across my other leg, attempting to lull my mind into a false sense of casualness that my body emits. Hayden sits to my right, hood up over his head and staring blankly around the room. Nikolai sits directly across from me at the table, eyes bloodshot and hair stuck in all different directions.

Reid sits diagonal from me, refusing to make eye contact since he entered. His hair is still damp from his shower, splotches of water darkening the collar of his shirt. He has a faint bruise on his cheek, and I try not to smile in satisfaction, considering I have a matching one.

We sit in silence, waiting for Arun's arrival. We all received a group text this morning featuring a picture of me being held back by Hayden with my fist raised in the air, inches from Reid’s nose as Nikolai attempts to hold him back, with a message that said, 8:00am, Conference Room B, and the hotel address.

Scar wasn’t up when any of us left the bus this morning and I was thankful for it. My insides have been twisting since the fight with Reid yesterday and I didn’t want her to see my worry heading into this morning.

In the ten years that we’ve not only been friends but also been a band, I don't think we’ve ever hit a low as low as this one, both personally and creatively. And I’m scared that when we get up and walk out of this room later, we may not be Whisper Me Nothings anymore.

Arun strides in, head shining and wrapped in a camel-colored suit with a navy blue button up underneath, the top few buttons undone as always. Phone in one hand, a manila folder in the other.

“You’re late,” Nikolai says, pointing to the clock that reads 8:12am.

Arun pauses pulling out the chair he was about to sit in and stares at him. “At least my tardiness isn’t making the rounds of every single pop culture site now, is it.”

Nikolai shrinks down a few inches in his chair, grumbling.

“Now, we will not be leaving here today until we can come to some sort of understanding. I have not been oblivious to the issues the four of you have seemed to be having the past few months, but I hoped they were due to the close proximity you were all back under and trying to work on the album. But judging by these”—he opens the folder and tosses out copies of the photos of our sidewalk fight yesterday, letting them splash across the table—“and the fact that you all have written one, only one, song for your next album that should be close to completion, I’m concerned things go deeper than that.”

I avert my eyes from the pictures, not needing to see the fight secondhand. Reid seems to do the same.

“Let’s just get everything out in the open, shall we?” Arun sits back and opens his hands up, signaling for us to begin.

The four of us look at each other, all waiting for someone to jump in.

“The studio time has been hard,” Hayden starts, clearing his throat. “We’ve never had to work this hard on music together before. There used to be a flow the four of us had and it’s gone.”

Nikolai and I nod our heads in agreement. It’s sad but true. We all feel it.

“What do you think the issue is? Why is it gone?” Arun asks.

Hayden shrugs.

“Well, you can’t take a year long hiatus, ghost your creative partners, and then show back up and expect it to all fall into place again,” Reid says, shooting Hayden a glare.

Hayden rears back like he was slapped. “What the fuck, dude?”

“You can’t. And maybe you don’t want to admit it to yourself, but while some of us took time playing music, working on our songwriting, actually improving, you’ve slacked off. And it’s hurting our sound.”

Hayden slaps a hand across the table before pointing a shaking finger at Reid. “Fuck you.” He sneers. “I didn’t take time off because I was bored or wanted a vacation. I saw people, fucking kids, die in front of my face. I’m not going to apologize for needing to take a breather after that.”

Reid sits silently, staring Hayden down.

“We all agreed the break was needed,” Nikolai pipes in. “I needed it too, man.” He tries to appeal to Reid, knowing he has a soft spot for him and trying to angle Reid’s attention toward it. Nikolai was there in that gymnasium too.

“We can’t go back and change anything now so arguing about that is pointless. Maybe we need a trip away together after this to a remote studio, like we did with the third album. Change of pace and atmosphere,” I throw out.

By the way Reid’s face twists like he tasted something rotten, I would say he’s not a fan of the idea.

“You have your summer festival circuit starting after this tour ends,” Arun reminds us. “I can find something for you all after that, but you need to do those shows first. That’s priority right now.”

“I think one of the main issues is that we don’t know what we want to say with this next album. With all the previous ones, we all were at similar points in our lives, living a similar experience, and as a whole, we had an idea of what we wanted to convey. But now…” Nikolai pauses, rubbing his forehead. “It feels like we’re all in such separate places that we can’t even begin to find a common ground.”

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