Blue Hearts, Purple Roses

The city lights blurred as I looked out of the tour bus. With every city we visited, it was just a big blur that I could barely remember. It was the same thing that I experienced and witnessed for a month, and it was getting tiring. The routine was supposed to make me feel steady, the kind that my real life could never give me. And that's why I chose music. Music was my outlet. It's where I can stand in front of a crowd and sing at the top of my lungs and they won't judge me because everyone thinks that these lyrics are just lyrics but never the truth. Or maybe they think it's real but they don't know where it came from because they don't know the real me. But who knew that it would suffocate me in the long run? As I settled into my hotel room for our final tour location, I was glad that I had it all to myself. Being the only girl in the band truly has its perks. It really depends on my mood. Sometimes, tours make me lonely and it would be nice to have a companion so I would barge into the guys’ room. But there were days when I would rather be alone. Like today. I plopped onto the mattress and slid under the sheets. With a sigh, I hoped to let go of all my frustrations. Maybe. Just maybe, I could relax before I make my mind up. I know I couldn’t make any decision like this. The band has been my everything and the mere thought of leaving bothered me. So I let my thoughts wander, remembering the good old days when we were just starting. RING! I blindly reached for my phone and answered the call without looking at who it was. Normally, it would be just one of the guys. “Nesryn Sinclair Baudelaire, when do you plan to go home?” The voice from the other line boomed with its thick French accent. “You can’t keep on running away from your family and your duties.” He was not shouting but I could feel his anger. “Exactly the reason why I don’t want to go home, pops.” I sighed, shaking my head. There I was, a grown woman but I was being treated like a teenager. The funny yet annoying thing is that we have had this argument more than once, more than twice even. It was the same argument every day when I was thirteen, when they kept on asking me to join our legacy. They kept on shoving the idea down my throat but I could barely entertain the idea. Why did I even have to be like them? I heard a growl from the other end of the line and some foreign cuss words that I never learned. “Don’t make me go there and drag you back home, young lady.” His voice sounded louder. “As if you know where I am. Being on tour means being on the road.” I smiled softly, feeling a bit confident but I was also feeling annoyed. “You can try dragging me but doesn’t mean that I’ll follow anyway.” There was a moment of silence. “The Internet is a powerful thing too. I know your tour ends tomorrow. Get a flight back home or else I would step in and trust me…” He paused. “You know you won’t like it.” It sounded like an ultimatum. Right then and there, I knew I would not get some decent sleep before the final show. Ending phone calls like that had never been good, especially when it was my father. When he got the last word, I knew that there was nothing that I could do. That night, I made myself an iced coffee and then I ordered some red velvet cake. If there was anything that could keep me awake and productive through that night, it would be sweets and caffeine. It was just the perfect combination. With that, I started to scribble in my notebook, hoping that I would get some inspiration at one point but everything I wrote sounded horrible in my head or even out loud. It was around midnight when I lost hope. I took my phone and scrolled through my socials. Despite not liking the whole idea of social media being just a bunch of fake posts about everyone’s fake lives, it was my only way to keep up with what other people were doing because I was always on the road and I was afraid to personally ask them. Somewhere along my older posts, I saw a familiar photo of a black-haired guy who had his arm wrapped around a smaller girl who looked just like me but with black hair. “Wow…” I whispered. I clicked on the photo to make it bigger and I could not help but wonder what it could have been during that time. It looked like it was taken a long time ago but it was just a few years. A part of me still wished that I could relive it. I felt a small ache in my heart, the organ that I always thought no longer existed. I scoffed as I clutched my chest and shook my head. “It’s not supposed to hurt anymore.” I looked at the photo again before placing my phone down. I brushed my fingers through my now blonde hair as I looked around. A lot of things have changed ever since that time of innocence, happiness…and love. So many things have changed now without those three things in my life. Now, all I could do was remember that time and keep it in my heart forever. With all the emotions I was feeling, I felt somewhat inspired so I grabbed my pen once again and started to write. Hopefully, it will be a better run than before. “This is for you…” I whispered. Just as I finished filling the pages with my thoughts and feelings, there was a knock on my hotel door. As I opened it, I was welcomed by my manager’s face and a cup of iced coffee in his hand. “Good morning,” Harry greeted with a smile. “Whoa. You’re up early. I thought you would be angry with me for waking you up early so I brought a peace offering.” He stretched his arm and handed me the cup of coffee which I gratefully took. “Thank you.” I smiled softly. “Nervous?” he asked, glancing at the mess behind me. It was probably obvious that I did not get a blink of sleep at all. “More like I’m going to miss touring.” I laughed, brushing off the nerves that mostly came from my father’s call. Harry nodded and gave me a pat on the shoulder. “Get ready. We’re leaving in an hour.”