Maybe, a small, tiny part of her, deep down, was happy that you were no longer in the band. Mattie had been totally infatuated with you for two years, but it just hadn’t worked out. She was so different from you, it was like there would always be a huge gap she could never sew back together.

That, and the slight power imbalance certainly didn’t help. She was the manager, and you were the guitarist—one lived backstage with planners and schedules, while the other performed and savored the bright spotlight—although, that wasn’t really the case anymore.

It wasn’t anyone’s fault that you got into an accident. That’s what she had been told, at least. Some tragedy had happened and now your hand trembled every time you tried to play guitar. Anything besides the basics was supposedly confidential, even if, as manager, she deserved to know why a member abruptly dropped out.

“She’s a little naive, but she’s nice..” Mattie spoke with a small shrug. Conversation had drifted over to the new guitarist, and whether or not she was any good. Unfortunately, the girl was a natural at the instrument.

It wasn’t like she particularly wanted to be hanging around your house. When the band members decided to set up a schedule to help you as you recovered, she couldn’t say no. It’s reflect worse on her if she refused because of a grudge. Now, though, she was spending her weekend playing housewife and making you soup in some futile way of support.

“I mean, it’s temporary, right?” She asked, trying to lighten up the tense atmosphere. All the unspoken apologies and insults hanging heavy in the air. One wrong move and they’d all spill out. “Don’t look so negative. The frown just makes it seem like you’re pouting, when all you’re really getting is a free vacation.”