The thud of a stack of papers hitting his chest awakens Ezra from his deep sleep. It's a feeling he knows all too well, and it takes a moment for his eyes to adjust on a familiar pink haired woman. Oh god, he really fucking did it now. Faye had flown all the way from California just to yell at him in person.

She rarely makes visits during tours, and his decision to save Billie's reputation last night must've set her over the edge. "Morning to you too, Faye," he groans, fingertips reaching for the papers, "Did you catch a red eye just to do that?"

"Very funny," she retorts before dramatically sipping on her coffee, "I would laugh if I wasn't running on three hours of sleep."

"Welcome to my world," he replies neutrally before allowing himself to get out of his bunk and move towards the seating in the front of the bus.

"What were you thinking, Ezra?" She questions in a tone he is also very familiar with. This is not an uncommon interaction between the two. In fact, he can count on both hands the amount of times he's been asked that question.

"How bad is it?" He questions, still unable to look at the articles quite yet. 

"Look for yourself," she encourages, arms crossed over her chest.

Ezra takes a moment to look at his publicist and offer her a pleading gaze to skip whatever punishment she's trying to inflict. Of course, it's to no avail. He reluctantly looks at the printouts of all the stories on his night out, and Ezra's heart sinks.

"EZRA MOORE BRINGS HOME MYSTERY GIRL TOO DRUNK TO WALK" ... "WOMANIZER STRIKES AGAIN: EZRA MOORE AND MYSTERY GIRL" ... "WHO IS THE INTOXICATED GIRL EZRA MOORE TOOK HOME LAST NIGHT?"

At the very most, he hoped the media would fixate on the anonymity of the girl rather than her clear intoxication, but these headlines are ruthless. "You know who's under that coat," he states dryly, his fingertip lightly running over the image of Billie and him. 

"Yes, and it's not your job to protect Billie's career," she dictates, "that's for her manager to figure out."

"If you want an apology, you're not going to get one," he states matter of factly before clenching the papers. Ezra couldn't be sorry for the choice he made last night or things he said. If given the choice to do it again, he would. Though the headlines are somewhat disturbing, he's far more preoccupied with seeing Billie again and deciphering how much of their conversation she remembered.

"What I want is for you to get your head out of the clouds and realize that we are reaching territory where I cannot help you or your image anymore. Madison is almost budging on the song, and now we've got buzz around potential assault allegations from the media."

"That didn't happen," Ezra immediately interjects, "You know I'd never do something like that."

"You think I don't know you?" Faye questions with a worried look, "Of course you wouldn't, but look at those photos. She can barely keep herself up, and the tabloids are having a field day with it."

"She needed someone to take her home," he protests, "Did you want me to leave her there?"

"Next time, call Jeff or Monica. Don't be the hero when everyone sees you as the villain. It will always look bad for you, Ezra. I don't know how many times I can tell you that."

He looks at the images once more as the grip around the papers loosens. "Find a girl," he offers, "Pay her to tell them nothing happened and that I took her back to her home."

"We've already taken care of it," she assures.

"Then why are you here berating me about something that's already been handled?" His tone borders agitation. 

"You don't listen to anyone anymore," she reminds, "and I like to think you'll still listen to me if I give it to you straight. No bullshit, just the raw truth."

"Then go ahead and say it."

"You can't be seen with any more women before Madison's album debuts. It's going to cost you a lot of grief and money to get her to cut the song, and she's not going to accept our offer if she keeps seeing you doing your typical bullshit. Monica has been doing us a favor by making all the rumors about you and Billie go away since the beginning of the tour, so don't make things harder than they need to be."

The media had already been onto their little charade without even knowing if it truly existed, and one article would've likely spooked Billie away by now. So, in a way, he's thankful that Monica had been working so diligently to keep any whisper of a relationship under wraps.

"You cannot be seen with her, Ezra. Period. I don't want you having anything to do with that girl or any of her bandmates. She's here to make you look better, and any sort of relationship is going to taint your career and skyrocket hers."

Ezra chuckles at the irony of her statement before he can stop himself, and Faye nearly implodes on the spot. "Do you think this is funny? Because it's not. It's absolutely alarming that you don't see what the media will do with this. Do you think anyone is going to like the idea of you getting involved with another girl just starting in the industry?"

"To be fair, I was just starting myself when I met Madi." The nickname slips out of his mouth and he barely registers it. He hadn't called her that name in ages, and it causes a dull ache in his ribs. It's funny how an old habit can worm its way back in without any thought. 

"Do you hear yourself?" She questions. "I hardly know what you want anymore."

"You think I want this song released?" He questions with a scoff, "Because I've made it very clear as of late that I don't."

"Then start acting like it," she warns, "and don't think I haven't figured out why you took her back last night. I've been dealing with you long enough to piece it together."

"Piece what together?"

"That you're sleeping with her. And if that ever gets out, Ezra, so help me, you won't have a career left to save," Faye replies in a dreadful tone. 

"I thought she was supposed to be good for my career," he retorts with crossed arms. 

"As an opening act, not as another hookup. We didn't pick girlcrush for you to have new options for keeping yourself occupied."

"And what if it was more than that? What if I — we wanted to be together?"

"Is that the case or are you just deliberately trying to make my job difficult?"

"No," he swallows past the lump in his throat, "I guess I'm just curious how much of my life you're wanting to control." He knows, deep down, that Billie would never want something serious with him, regardless of what he said last night. So, why put any more stress on his publicist?

"Ezra," Faye pleads, "If there's anyone here who's on your side, it's me. I want to see you happy, but this is not the time to find love again. Wait, please, until the papers with Madison are signed. Then, by all means, see whoever you want. But starting this right now will only cause you pain in the long run."

"I was trying to do the right thing," he rasps, throat tightening at the realization that the severity of the accusations would be enough to ruin him as an artist.

"I know," Faye assures before reaching for the papers still clenched in his hand, "and we're going to fix it. The story will be dead by the end of the week."

"Don't tell them it was Billie," he demands, tone nearly frantic as he releases the articles from his grip. 

She immediately shakes her head, lips pressed against her coffee cup as her other hand stuffs the articles into her bag. "Now that wouldn't help us, would it?" She questions before adding, "There's a very nice roadie who is willing to put out a statement that it was her and that you were trying to help her back to the buses. End of story."

He moves to open his mouth but is immediately cut off by the sound of the bus door opening. His eyes fall on his two bandmates, both toting coffees and food. He wonders what it must be like to live so carefree on this tour. 

"Oh. Hi, Faye," Jude greets, clearly piecing together the purpose of her presence, "Haven't seen you in a while. Are we interrupting?" 

"No, come in boys. It's actually perfect timing. We're going to have to go over some things while I'm here."

"What's up?" Ambrose says with a muffled tone as he finishes chewing part of his breakfast sandwich.

"I was just telling Ezra how the girls in girlcrush are now off limits to you all until the end of the tour," Faye explains, "Though this doesn't really apply to you Ambrose, I expect you'll have to keep these two in line."

"I don't see what this has to do with me," Jude shrugs, arms crossed defensively over his chest. Ezra can't help but let out a laugh, and Ambrose immediately pulls his attention to his sandwich instead of his two bandmates.

"What's so funny?" Jude questions.

"Oh, just the fact that you're trying to act innocent when you're clearly just as guilty as me."

"And what exactly are you guilty of, Ezra?" He questions with a knowing grin. Before Ezra can offer a response, Faye holds up her hand in such a way that silences everyone.

"I'm sure Callie is a lovely girl," she explains, "but you need to start separating yourself from her. Grand Motel has a terrible image when it comes to women. All you two do is womanize and sleep with fans."

"You mean what Ezra does," Jude insists, which causes the singer to laugh once more.

"I meant what I said," Faye confirms, "Just because you've been on your best behavior for this tour doesn't mean I don't remember cleaning up your messes before it. Ezra may be in the media's spotlight, but your escapades aren't lost on me or your fans."

"Callie and I are just friends," he insists, unwilling to budge on the matter.

"They haven't even kissed," Ambrose interjects, and it causes a deep red to flush over Jude's cheeks.

"Aw, how sweet," Ezra teases, "Are you gonna call up her dad first and ask for permission?"

"At least I'm not fucking someone else's girl," Jude scoffs.

Though the words are not intended to strike so deeply, Ezra can feel his body fill with rage and jealousy. The wounds of last night haven't healed, and he's still sorting out what Billie's relationship with Monte means to her. So, he can't control the way he blindly steps forward and reaches for the collar of Jude's shirt.

"Keep her out of your fucking mouth," Ezra warns through gritted teeth, though Jude doesn't seem fazed by his behavior.

Faye stands there in absolute shock while Ambrose quickly places his food down and moves to get between them, but it's no use. Ezra remains planted with his fingers glued to the fabric of Jude's shirt.

"You want to do something about it?" Jude eggs him on, "Hit me. I'm sure Faye would love to explain to the media why I have a black eye."

"Enough," Faye warns, though it's clear she can do nothing to stop it. Now, Ambrose is more serious about breaking them up. He reaches his hands between the two, pressing against each of their chests to create some distance. Still, Ezra can't help but release one of his hands and ball it into a constrained fist.

"Say anything about her again, and I'll knock all your fucking teeth out," Ezra threatens, "And then we'll see if Callie wants to kiss you."

The words cause Jude to grimace, but he can't do much before Ambrose shoves Ezra off the guitarist. "Knock it off," Ambrose warns with a voice that booms throughout the bus.

"I told you to stay away from her," Jude reminds while ignoring the drummer, "I told you it would cause all of us trouble, namely yourself, if you tried to sleep with her. But you couldn't help yourself. You see a warning sign and act like it's a fuckin' green light."

"We haven't slept together," Ezra lies, "I just took her home so she wouldn't have to put up with the paparazzi. I'm so fucking sorry that I want to save someone from that absolute hell of one bad story spiraling into never ending allegations. But that's something you wouldn't understand. You just get to strum your little guitar and make goo-goo eyes at a girl while I'm holding on by a fucking thread!"

Now, Faye is reaching for Ezra. Her hand wraps gently around his forearm in an attempt to coax him to take a breath and calm down, but he doesn't want to stop the flood of emotions coursing through him. He had been suffering in plain sight long enough that everyone in this room is complicit in his demise.

"You did this to yourself," Jude reminds, "Ambrose and I begged you to get help. Fuck, I said I'd even pay for your rehab, but you wouldn't do it. You wanted to sit by the phone and wait for Madison to call and take you back instead. You wanted to get worse so she'd come save you. So, what about me, huh?"

Ezra stands there dumbfounded, heart cracking into two as he's reminded of the months that followed the night he left that voicemail.

"What about me?" Jude questions again. "You called me that night, too, or do you just like to forget that part? I was the one who had to find you there. I was the one who had to check if you were still breathing. Me, not Madison. You act like she's the only one who fucking matters, but we've been here. Not her."

"It sounds like you regret it," Ezra taunts through blurry eyes and gritted teeth, "Maybe we'd all be better off if you just hadn't picked up."

The air shifts in the bus, and he can sense he's gone too far. "Ezra," Faye warns, tone clearly hurt by his words. He shrugs off her grip, hands palming at his face to wipe away any stray tears. Ambrose just stands there, features twisted with anguish as he draws further into himself.

"You don't get it," Jude replies through bitter tears of his own, "You think you're the only one who suffered that night, but we almost lost our brother. So, don't ever fucking say that I regret it. All I've ever wanted for you is to get better, not worse."

"Then why did you let them put me on another goddamn tour?" His voice nearly cracks from the weight of his question, but now he's not just looking at Jude. Ezra's attention is shifting between all three of them.

"Because at least we'd all be able to watch out for you," Ambrose states with a solemn tone, "You wouldn't take the help, Ez. We couldn't let you do god knows what in that house by yourself."

There's a long gap of silence between them as Ezra stands there attempting to process everything that's just occurred. Even though he knows he shouldn't, the male feels utterly alone. What's worse is that he's created this for himself, and there just doesn't seem to be a way out.

Well, that's not entirely true. The lines of white powder after this whole ordeal would be a fleeting path towards peace. It's this hope he clings to before looking at Faye for any sort of intervening solace.

"This has gone way too far," Faye speaks up after clearing her throat, "I think you all better take some time apart and cool off."

Ambrose and Jude both clear out of the bus without another word, and it's obvious to Ezra now more than ever that he hasn't been a brother to them in quite a long time. If anything, he's been a walking liability and burden. He wants to hate them, wants to blame them for every problem he has. Yet, Ezra knows that he is the sole contributor to his own demise.

He catches a glimpse of himself in the reflection of one of the tinted windows and nearly cringes at the image. Ezra Moore is practically unrecognizable now, and what's standing before him is but a shell of his former self. He can't bring himself to look much longer.

"I'm sorry," he croaks, body nearly crumpling as Faye pulls him into a hug.

"Don't be," she assures, "It's going to be alright. This is all manageable. We're just looking out for you, and we know how tired you are of the media. It'll go away. I promise."

"I can't stay away from her," he breathes, "I can't. I swear, it's the only time I feel like a fucking person again. She's helping me get through this."

Faye lets out a deep breath, as if debating her next words very carefully. She pulls away from Ezra slowly, catching his line of vision. "I'm telling you this as your friend, not as your publicist," she cautions, "If it makes you happy to spend your time with Billie, then do it. But, please, not in public. And if Jeff asks, tell him I ripped you a new one and you'll stay away from her."

"Thank you." A hesitant smile tugs at the corners of his mouth, and he nods. "I just need to get through this tour."

"And the next one," she reminds, and her tone is unidentifiable. Still, it doesn't sound eager.

"She won't be on the next one," he assures, "They have meetings with investors and other labels already lined up. Billie even said they don't want to sign with our label."

"Don't be so certain," Faye offers with a knowing chuckle, "Mad Sounds wants to sign them, and they rarely take no for an answer. The buzz back home is that they've made it clear to other labels that girlcrush is their talent. They won't be hearing other offers."

"And what about the investors?" Ezra questions with furrowed brows, stomach twisting in knots.

"They'd need a miracle," she clarifies, "So, maybe you'll get your wish. I don't think Billie is going anywhere anytime soon."

He tries to muster a smile, but all he can do is nod. Ezra selfishly wanted girlcrush to remain on the tour, but something about it doesn't seem right.

"I need a smoke," he explains before motioning towards the exit, "Are you sticking around for the rest of the tour?"

"No," she explains, "But I'm always a phone call away ... and not just for the times when you fuck up. I miss talking with you the way we used to, Ez. Don't be a stranger."

"I think you mean don't be a pain in your ass," he corrects.

"No," she assures with a chuckle, "You've always been that."

He offers her a tense chuckle, fingertips fumbling for a cigarette. Before he looks back up, the sound of Faye exiting the bus causes him to let out a deep sigh of relief. He had nearly demolished his career over one stupid move. And yet, the conversation he shared with Billie last night made it worth it. Though, that is the least of his worries. 

He attempts to push the images of that terrible night and the way Ambrose and Jude had been looking at him today out of his mind, but it's no use. Suddenly, a cigarette doesn't seem like it's enough. Instead, he reaches for the vile of white power tucked in his pocket and heads for the bathroom.