Robbie's point of view
Two hours had gone by since Mark had left and I was still lying in bed, full of self-loathing, numb, drowsy and depressed as I tried to figure out what I needed to do to make things better between Mark and I. He was my rock and I didn't know what to do without him. I hated myself for literally pushing him away because of my self-destructive behavior.
However, it didn't matter how hard I tried to turn things around in my head, I always came to the same conclusion... I was famous. Way too famous for my own good. And it complicated everything. It had led me into this situation. I wished I knew what to do not to let fame completely destroy me and rob me of everything that was good in my life, from everything that could keep me sane.
Be that as it may, I really didn't want to go to rehab. I wasn't sure what it was I needed, but I sure as hell knew it wasn't rehab. I wasn't an alcoholic nor a drug addict. I didn't need to drink. I didn't need to down a bottle of vodka to get through the day. I only had a drink when I was out partying, just like everyone else.
My phone buzzed. As I picked it up, I prayed it might be Mark and that somehow, he was going to tell me that he had changed his mind... but instead, it was a whatsapp message from Tom.
"Band meeting in the hotel restaurant in half an hour. You'd better all be there. You've got some explaining to do."
'There you go' I thought, 'another lecture'. He had to know Mark had left.
I had another shower and got dressed. Mark had taken all of his stuff and it was so strange to be alone in that room. It had never happened before. We had always shared a room together. I suddenly came to the realization that we hadn't been apart for more than a few days in years. The longest we'd ever been apart was when we were kids and he went to France for most of the summer with his parents. How was I supposed to be without him for god knows how long? ... and what made him think that he could do it?
I went down to the hotel restaurant. I was the last one to get there. It seemed like Jordan and Damon had just arrived though and the two empty glasses on the table indicated that Tom and Dylan had been sitting there for some minutes.
I sat down on the last chair available and remained silent, not looking at any of them. I hoped I'd just have to sit there, shut up and be lectured because I sure as hell didn't want to talk. For a few seconds, no one said a word either. It seemed as if none of us wanted to admit our mistakes or start a painful conversation about the consequences of our actions and how badly it could impact the future of our band.
The heavy silence and tension in the air started to make Damon impatient and uncomfortable.
"Are we waiting for Mark? Where is he?" he asked.
I looked over at Dylan and studied his reaction to see if he knew.
He looked back at me with a hard to read expression, as if he was mad at me but also felt bad for me.
"He won't be coming," he answered "he left for the airport like an hour ago."
Jordan looked at me. His eyes narrowed and then he turned to Dylan,
"He did what?"
"Shit!" Damon exclaimed, "He did it?" he asked with surprise.
He then looked at me as well, as if he was trying to see how I was doing,
"He warned me that he might do that," he said with hesitance in his voice.
My brows furrowed as I looked at him,
"Well, thanks for telling me," I said bitterly.
"I didn't think he was serious about it." he claimed. "Did you know?" he asked Dylan.
"Of course I did. I've just spent an hour with him talking about the three of you again.... "
"And you didn't try to stop him from leaving?" I asked.
I was beginning to realize that I was taking it out on them, when they really didn't have much to do with the problems Mark and I were having. I was the only one responsible for him leaving.
He looked at me with the same expression,
"No, Rob, I didn't. Cuz I agree with him two hundred percent. That's all he and I have been able to talk about recently... what to do about the three of you."
I shook my head. I felt betrayed that he wouldn't even tell me that Mark wanted to leave.
"Where did he go?" I asked him insistently, demanding an answer which he didn't give me.
"You know where he went, so just tell me." I insisted.
He sighed before answering he knew I wouldn't let it go,
"He went to New York for now. He's gonna stay with Jimmy. He wants to finish editing the songs and work on a few demos with him."
Jordan raised his eyebrows and breathed,
"Well, at least he still cares about the band."
"Oh! 'Cause he's the one who doesn't care?" Dylan snapped at him.
"I didn't mean it like that," he replied.
"Jeez, Jordan, you need to fucking grow up," he said angrily to him.
Obviously, Mark wasn't the only one to be mad at us.
"We're the only ones who seem to care! We've been doing everything lately, and you three just go out and party. That's not how it works. We're all supposed to be involved."
"Oh, come on!" Jordan responded, hardly containing his frustration, "You make it sound as if we haven't been doing anything."
"Well, you haven't been doing much!" he exclaimed.
"We're allowed to go out for a few drinks at the end of the day if we fucking feel like it."
"Yeah, sure!" Dylan agreed. "As long as you're still able to function properly the next day!"
"We've never missed a recording session, have we?" Jordan said, defending himself.
"We don't need you to just stand there and play what we tell you to play or sing what we tell you to sing," he said to us and then focused on me,
"You just take it for granted that Mark will do all the song writing when you used to do it with him.... When we ALL used to do it with him," he added, also blaming Jordan and Damon.
I opened my mouth to say something, but quickly admitted to myself that I couldn't argue with that. We had expected Mark to do all the work and I hadn't been involved much in the songwriting process.
