U-N-I Ch. 15

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.

"Basically, you all expect him to come into the studio with fully written songs or to do all the editing on the ones we've already recorded, so you don't have to put in the work. That is not how we work and you know that!"

"Oh, c'mon," Jordan began saying, "We've recorded enough songs already. Why can't you two be happy with what we've written for once!"

"Are you serious?" Dylan asked dubiously, "They're still so amateurish. They're far from being ready to be released. We might've enough songs to make an ok album. - but is that what you want to do? Settle for ok?"

"Well, do we have a choice?"

"For fuck's sake. Most of the songs we've recorded so far are just not good enough. They could be so much better. We need to put a lot more effort into them. I wouldn't even release them as B-sides. Potentially, if you give a shit, Mark and I have been writing new songs, and we're not gonna settle for ok. We're not gonna let you make us release a crappy record because you're too wrapped up in yourselves to care."

I shook my head and said,

"I've said from the beginning that we should've focused on writing and recording. But nooo, we have to be all over the place."

"Right." Dylan said. "That's a valid point. But we were all ok with doing it this way."

So far Damon hadn't dared say anything. He quietly tried to find a solution,

"Can't the release of the album be postponed? I mean, we can't meet the deadlines, we all know that's not gonna happen."

"Damon," Tom finally intervened and replied, "if we postpone the album, we postpone the tour. If we postpone the tour we have to postpone it by at least a year! Venues have been booked for months and there are so many people involved already and expecting to have a job next summer. We have to take everything into careful consideration before we decide to do that."

"The tickets haven't gone on sale," I said.

"Yes. I'm aware of that. But this is gonna cost money to the label anyway, and they're not gonna like that."

"Well, fuck the label." I exclaimed.

"That's very mature."

"Yeah. It's not as if they hadn't made a shitload of money out of us already," I said angrily.

"Alright, enough!" Tom snapped at me, but I honestly didn't give a shit because he was in part responsible for the hectic schedule we were forced to maintain. I was pissed off.

"I've let this go on for too long," he continued. "Yes, you lads are only twenty-seven and you're allowed to have some fun ... and yes, we're in Amsterdam...," he said to Jordan. "but getting shitfaced every day and not giving a damn about what needs to be done? I don't think so," he said dramatically. "If you want to behave as stupid, irresponsible kids, I can treat you as such. That's all you've been doing since the recording started and this cannot go on. You're gonna have to start realizing that it's time to stop having fun and take things more seriously because you've got deadlines to meet."

I looked up at him and he pointed his finger at me.

"Don't you dare tell me to fuck the deadlines too."

"Alright. I'm thinking it really hard though," I answered, being a bit of a smart ass, "we should be allowed to release an album whenever we damn feel ready to do so. And not to please any fucking label."

"Rob, it's not just the label. The fans are expecting you to release a new record at the end of the year, and they're expecting a tour next summer."

"Well, they'll just have to wait, won't they?" I knew I was being unreasonable because that was what we had told the media but I just didn't want to please anyone to my own detriment anymore.

Tom looked down and sighed. He thought for a brief moment and then looked up at me with a defeated expression on his face,

"Is that what you wanna do? Postpone everything?"

"We can't do that," Damon immediately said with a sigh.

"Damon, I used to have total faith in your ability to work well under pressure, but this time, I don't see how you could possibly keep the promises you've made to the public... or the label."

"Rob?" he asked in mildly more considered tone, so that I'd look at him, "You said to Mark that last night was just a one time thing, do you really mean that?"

I didn't answer.

"What about you?" he asked Jordan, who just shrugged, just as annoyed as I was by this lecture.

"Rob," Tom continued, talking directly to me, "I know you're going through something. We can all sense that. You've been up and down emotionally lately. But instead of trying to understand why, I didn't do anything and just assumed you were a bit burnt out and that it'd pass. I shouldn't have. We've been too busy and wrapped up in everything that needs to be done but I think the time has come to address some of the issues you're facing because things have gone too far and I'm sorry I've let it go on for this long. How long have I been your manager now? Over seven years. I've watched you grow from boys to men, and I probably know you better than your own parents these days. And as a parent myself, I wouldn't like to see my son behave the way you do. I'd be worried sick. I'm starting to feel concerned here. I mean... Doing coke? Is that the kind of band you wanna become? ... You've all been raised better than that. You know better."

Since I still wasn't talking, he asked,

"What do you want Rob?"

I shrugged slightly,

"To not be famous anymore. To have some kind of normal life again. Can you make that happen?" I asked sarcastically.

He sighed and remained silent for a moment.

They all looked at me but I didn't look at any of them.

"Alright," Tom announced as he stood up. "I'm gonna make a few phone calls and cancel the interview and TV show in Madrid on Monday," he said. "but we're not done discussing this." he walked away and headed out of the restaurant.

They all remained silent. I could tell they didn't know what to say to me. Again, Damon got uncomfortable and broke the silence,

"Damn, you screwed up pretty bad last night, didn't you? I can't believe you guys did cocaine and alcohol at the same time. Aren't you afraid of anything?"

Jordan chuckled,

"I think we felt invincible last night."

"You're not though!" Damon responded, he just watched us before adding, "well, I'd say the fun is over. We're gonna have to rethink our priorities here."

Dylan nodded. "Thank you! Cause contrary to what you seem to be thinking, the album's not gonna write itself, and people aren't gonna plan every little detail of the tour for us."

"Rob?" Damon asked after a moment of silence.

Rob? He asked again.

I looked up at him.

"Seriously, can you talk to us? How're you feeling?" he asked, concerned.

"Right now? Like I've been run over by a bus and got my heart ripped out of my chest."

Jordan leaned closer to me and whispered,

"Over exaggerating it a little?" I glared at him, "No?" he chuckled. "Ok."

"I can't believe he left," I sighed.

"He'll be back," Jordan said, doing his best to reassure me, "He just wants to teach you a lesson."

"Rob," Dylan breathed. "he just wants you to be okay. That's what we all want. Let's be honest here. You're losing control. You've been putting yourself under too much pressure. You've been going out way too much and this... this isn't like you. That's not how you get ready for a world tour and you know that. The last one was so demanding and look at you, you're already exhausted."

I sighed and still didn't answer. I was done defending myself. They seemed to have me all figured out anyway.

"Alright," Dylan continued, "I'm pretty sure Tom's gonna cancel everything he had scheduled for us... so, here's what's gonna happen."

Jordan interrupted him and snickered,

"Mark's fucking gone. What are we supposed to do without him anyway? I'd say everything's pretty much on hold for now."

"You know, he needs a fucking break too!" Dylan exclaimed, "He can't do it all alone. That's not fair to him. He's had enough of your bullshit ... and so have I."

"Why doesn't he just say so instead of leaving," Jordan said.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Dylan snapped at him, "How many times have we tried to talk to you? You just chose not to listen. Now this time, maybe you will."

"You," he said to me, "You're gonna fly to L.A and go to this place," he showed me the rehab centre webpage on his phone.

"Oh, will you all cut it out with that rehab bullshit. I'm not a freaking alcoholic."

"No one said you were." Dylan said, "Don't get all defensive on me. And that's not why we want you to go there. But right now, you have to stop with all the partying and drinking and all that shit. You need to take more care of yourself, and of your voice, if you want to be ready mentally and physically for the next tour. 'Cause right now you're just not! And if you keep acting the way you've been acting lately, you never will be!"

"Maybe I don't wanna be!" I snapped. "And I don't want to go there by myself. What do you expect me to do there? I'm gonna be bored out my mind."

"No, you won't. It'll be good for you. To get away for a while and to be on your own."

I shook my head and he turned to Damon and Jordan,

"And you. You're gonna go back to Dublin and stay with your folks for a while. You've been pampered too much. Everyone telling us how great we are, you need to go back to your house and get in trouble for not putting the milk away. Should be enough for you!"

"Can't I just do that too?" I exclaimed.

"Has Tom talked to our folks?" Jordan asked worriedly.

"He's had your dad on the phone, yeah. He's expecting you," he answered slyly. Jordan's dad was the kind to keep a close watch on his kids, and now that we were famous, he was constantly making sure we were all doing fine.

"Oh, for fuck's sake. What's he told him? He's gonna kill me."

"We sure hope he does." Dylan said, half-jokingly.

"I don't need my father to lecture me. I'm a grown man."

"Then, start acting like one."

Tom walked back to our table. As he sat back down he announced, "Alright, let's start making some much needed changes..."

-------------

Mark's point of view

I had been in New York for almost two weeks already and I had only talked to Rob once. For a couple of days after leaving Amsterdam, he texted me, tried to call me and left me several messages, asking me to come home. He was back in London and against the idea of going to Los Angeles. At first, I didn't answer his calls, because I was mad, and because I needed him to understand that I was not coming back. When I finally did answer, we talked pretty maturely about the situation.

"Rob," I told him at some point in the conversation so that he'd try to figure out why he was starting to have a conflicted relationship with fame, "I know we always said we'd make the band and the fans our priority no matter what, but you have to be a bit selfish here. You need to go to LA. I want you to go. You can rest and talk to therapists. They can help you make sense of everything that's happened to us. You can't go on like this. I want you to feel better in your own skin, so you can enjoy it again."

"It's not that I hate it. I love performing...," he began saying, but didn't finish his sentence.

"Yeah, you do. But you also find it hard and you struggle with it more and more every day. So much so that you don't even know how to be yourself anymore. I want the real you back. I want you to be happy with what we have and what we do."

He let out a deep sigh, as a way of expressing his sadness and weariness and remained silent for a moment. When he finally spoke, there was a bit of anger in his voice,

"Are you breaking up with me?" he asked. "Is that what this is? This is you breaking up with me?"

I remained silent. I hated this. I could feel tears welling up from hearing his voice and knowing I couldn't be with him but I couldn't let myself cry,

"No, I don't know. It doesn't matter," I answered, "I don't want to be without you ...," I admitted in a whisper.

"Then don't be. You really think you leaving me is gonna help? Come on Mark, how is that gonna help me?"

"Ive tried everything else!" I told him. "All I do is love you and try to help you, but you don't let me. I can't be with you right now if all you do is refuse to talk to me and turn to drink and drugs to cope with the pressure. I won't let you do that."

"Fine. You want me to talk to you, I'll talk to you. What do you want me to say? That I'm exhausted, that I'm tired of it."

I didn't respond.

"Yes, I'm exhausted and I'm fucking tired of it! Of course I am. I'm tired of trying to meet everyone's expectations, including yours. Now please just come home so we can work this out together," he begged.

Again, I didn't answer but I had heard him.

I couldn't blame him for trying but he knew I wasn't coming back until agreed to go to therapy. We couldn't solve our relationship problems as long as he didn't try to overcome his issues.

"Mark, I don't need therapy," he continued. "I just need some time to recharge."

"You know, you're really the only one who thinks that you don't need therapy," I interrupted him, "there's nothing wrong with admitting that you're losing control of your life and that you need a bit of help. You can pretend everything's fine and lie to everyone else, but not to me. You know you don't have to pretend with me."

He sighed heavily,

"It doesn't matter whether I tell you or not. It's not like you feel the need to slow things down. You don't want to. You're all perfectly fine with the way things are, so why shouldn't I be if everyone else is."

"Because you're allowed to not want to do it anymore when you're the one with the biggest spotlight. You'd rather avoid me as much as you can than admit to me that you've had enough. I know you don't wanna hurt me or burden me with your problems, but we're in this together, and if you're not ok, then I'm not ok. And if you're not physically able to go back on tour and do it all over again, then none of us can. So if you need a break, then ok, we can stop everything. But you'll have to use that time to actually deal with what's been eating you up inside and you have to be by yourself to do that."