Smugs took the mic boxes from him and stashed them away. He paid little attention to Shay, but then, he rarely did. Bemused, Shay fished his phone from his pocket, but there was no message from Ollie, just the blank screen of a dead battery. Shay pocketed the phone, suddenly unsure of what he’d been looking for in the first place. His throat burned, and goddammit if he didn’t need to piss again.
On the bus, he used the bathroom, then grabbed another Coke and some fruit to perk him up. He passed Larry in the aisle. “Where’d the van go?”
“London, I’d imagine, lad. It’s where the rest of us are going.”
The answer made perfect sense, but the notion that Ollie had left without saying goodbye made no sense at all, even though nothing about how he communicated with Shay ever did.
Shaking his head to clear it, Shay shuffled along until he got to his bunk and then collapsed on his bed. He kicked his boots off and instantly fell into a restless doze that seemed to go nowhere.
Desperate for rest, he groaned when he woke up a little while later. The bus was rumbling its way north to London. Shay gazed a moment at the motorway zipping by, then rolled over, gaze habitually drawn to Ollie’s bunk. It was empty, of course, but something else made Shay sit up sharply. Beyond Ollie’s absence, everything else was gone from his bed too—his camera, his laptop bag, the screwed-up pair of sweatpants he sometimes slept in.
Even the bed was made. If Shay hadn’t known better, it would seem as though Ollie had never been there at all.Jesus, he’s gone.Stomach roiling, Shay lay back down. The irrational anxiety he’d carried since the end of the show quickened his pulse, and cold sweat dampened his skin. He felt clammy and strange, and the worst kind of heat built in his gut until he knew with horrifying certainty that he was going to be sick.
Panicked, he rolled off his bed and landed in a heap on the aisle floor. He scrambled to his feet and lunged for the bathroom, making it just in time to lose the buckets of fluid he’d consumed before he fell asleep. It seemed to go on forever, and when it was over, he slumped on the floor, too scared to move in case it happened again.
“Shay?”
“Go away, Jumbo.”
“Not likely, mate. You never let me kip on the floor, no matter how bladdered I am.”
I’m not drunk. But nothing came out when Shay tried to speak. Strong hands gripped his arms and lifted him from the floor. Jumbo propped him up and propelled him to the nearest empty bunk—Ollie’s naturally.Fuck my life.
Jumbo crouched in front of him, his usual asinine grin replaced by a worried frown. “Do you need a Lucozade or some shit?”
Shay thought hard. Somewhere beneath the haze of his Ollie woes and the nausea ripping through him, he knew something was wrong, and he needed to fix it before he lost the ability to think for himself. Lord knew, Shay had spent enough time in hospitals to know it wasn’t an experience worth having.
He reached clumsily for Jumbo, who was on the phone, speaking too quietly for Shay to hear him.
Jumbo caught his hand. Said more words. Then hung up the phone. “I don’t know what to do, Shay. Someone else is always around when this shit happens.”
“Where is everyone?”
“They went to check in.”
Check in. Shay turned the words over and realised with a start that the bus wasn’t moving anymore.What the fuck?He looked out of the window to see a faceless underground car park, and his stomach lurched again.
There was zero chance of him making it to the bathroom this time. He croaked out a warning to Jumbo, who moved faster than his large frame usually allowed. An empty beer box appeared in front of Shay. He heaved into it, and a stabbing pain lanced through his abdomen. “Ow.”
The box vanished, taking Jumbo with it. Shay groaned and fell back on the bed, slumping against pillows that should’ve smelled like Ollie, but didn’t. “Where is he?”
Jumbo reappeared and thankfully seemed to know who Shay meant. “I don’t know, mate. I called him, but his phone isn’t connecting. Corina’s on her way back.”
Another groan escaped Shay. He didn’t want Corina and her cold hands and good intentions; he wanted—heneeded—Ollie. And he needed to be sick again.
He was on his third round of making Jumbo play dodge the vomit when Corina’s sharp heels sounded on the steps to the bus. She pushed Jumbo aside and gripped Shay’s chin, assessing him with the limited knowledge she’d gleaned from seeing Shay in messes like this before.
“Get his bag,” she ordered Jumbo. “We need to test his glucose levels right now.”
Corina pulled Shay’s hand towards her.
A deep-rooted instinct he couldn’t control made him rip it away. “No.”
“Shay.”
“No. I can do it myself—”
A new voice suddenly cloaked Shay, surrounding him, protecting him. Corina’s chilled touch and Jumbo’s bumbling ignorance disappeared. Warm hands eased under Shay’s body, lifting him until he was halfway upright and cradled in Ollie’s arms.
