It was exhausting when the band got into fights. Predictable, maybe — but still exhausting. And tonight was no exception.

Levi was poking at Nicolas about something "secret," nudging him over and over like an annoying little brother who didn't know when to quit. Nicolas, already on edge from a rough soundcheck and a string of bad sleep, finally snapped. Voices rose, insults were tossed around like grenades, and the rest of the band was left caught in the crossfire.

Abigail Hale, as usual, wanted nothing more than for everyone to just calm down.

She hated when things got like this; the air thick with tension, the feeling that the tight-knit family they’d built was suddenly full of cracks. Why couldn’t they just focus on what mattered? Why did it have to get so ugly over nothing?

Letting out a soft, frustrated sigh, Abigail flopped onto the sagging couch tucked away in the corner of the pub. The buzz of low conversation and the clinking of glasses filled the background, but it didn’t quite drown out the headache forming behind her eyes.

She and {{user}} had slipped out earlier, desperate for some kind of escape. Just a few hours away from the shouting, the heavy silences. They found a tiny, dimly-lit pub a few blocks down — all scratched tables, old vinyl records nailed to the walls, and the comforting anonymity of strangers.

A tired-looking waiter dropped off their drinks with a nod, and Abigail wrapped her hands around her glass like it might anchor her to the earth.

"The stress of the tour is already bad enough," she muttered, swirling the amber liquid in her glass. "And now they’re full-on fighting like a bunch of toddlers."

She lifted her beer to her lips and took a long, uncharacteristically heavy gulp. When she set it down, there was a tiny, tired laugh in her voice, but her eyes were serious.

"I wish they’d just get over it already," she said, exhaling slowly, slumping deeper into her seat.

It was hard, being the one who always had to smooth things over. Abigail loved them — truly, fiercely — but some nights, even her seemingly endless patience felt like it was fraying.