Rowan & Orion's Bus Chat (Patreon)

A brief look into the small chat on the bus and Orion's attempt at giving Rowan ~advice.~

Orion POV

Orion Quinn has accepted that work is his life.

Not only has he accepted it, but he encourages that reality. It’s easier to exist when he’s working. He doesn’t need to be someone interesting, someone worthwhile, or fun. He doesn’t have to talk to anyone, reveal details of his life, or try to connect with others. He just needs to show up and do his job.

And sometimes that job has nothing to do with the work or the music. Sometimes it’s consoling a member of a band when things don’t go his way. Just as he’s doing for Rowan.

Orion steps on the bus, running a frustrated hand through his hair as he gazes around the bus. It’s nice enough…by mobile home standards. In reality, it’s making him debate whether riding here is a good idea. God. He can’t believe he’s going to spend the next few weeks in a tiny bed on a moving bus with other people. He shivers internally. A personal nightmare catered to his every fear.

“Rowan?” he asks, moving deeper into the bus.

“In here.”

Rowan’s voice leads him to the beds near the back, where Rowan sits on a bottom bunk with his head in his hands. Orion stops in his tracks, watching as Rowan blinks at the floor another moment before moving his head up so his hands rest against his temples. His eyes flicker upward.

“The beds are nice,” he says dryly.

Orion snorts, pushing a curtain back to sit on the bed across from him. “These beds look like they haven’t been washed in ages.” Orion puts his phone down beside his leg and clasps his hands in front of him, letting his elbows rest on his knees. He has to hunch over, his six-four body too large to fit comfortably. Wonderful. He can only imagine how it’s going to look trying to sleep in one of these glorified coffins.

“You look very uncomfortable,” Rowan attempts to joke.

“I am.”

Even though he smiles, it quickly falls. Rowan absently toys with the seam of his jacket as Orion looks on, thinking of something to say. They don’t have a lot of time. Everyone will be on the bus soon and they'll have to deal with two bands who hardly like each other. He wonders if they can find common ground. Even that seems like a long shot.

Unfortunately, Orion is not good at this. Straight-forward advice is easy. Logical advice backed up with evidence and data is something he does every day. It’s the ones that have no direct answer that makes him uneasy. He doesn’t know what Rowan wants to hear. He doesn’t even know if what Rowan wants to hear is what he needs to hear.

“I know you’re upset—”

“How’d you figure?” Rowan says dryly.

Orion shoots him a look but doesn’t entertain the response. He simply continues. “But you have to understand that neither option was desirable.”

“Blake and [their] fucking band was the least desirable option.” Rowan huffs. “I don't know how MC can choose them knowing they fought us at the party."

“I’m still upset about that,” Orion scolds lightheartedly in an attempt to lighten the mood. Rowan shakes his head, failing to find the humor. “It’s unfair to be so angry at MC. You know that.” When Rowan doesn’t reply, Orion adds, “You know they don’t mean to hurt you. Not on purpose.”

“Maybe not.” Rowan’s throat bobs when he swallows his throat. “But they still did.”

It’s so simple when Rowan puts it like that, but Orion hates it. He hates knowing that doing things that seem logical or right to you can hurt others. He knows, on a deeper level, that intentions mean nothing. Sometimes even the purest intentions are drowned out by the pain you cause. The thought of it though... makes him feel suffocated. Makes him want to question every move he's ever made.

How many people has he hurt that way? How many people have been casualties of an unintentional battle?

Not the time to think about it.

“You know, Seven and MC have a history that I don’t think MC has come to terms with completely. And they may or may not have moved on from it but…” Orion makes a face. “I don’t think it’s smart to open that wound. And I think you know that.”

Rowan keeps his face turned away, evidently not wanting to hear what Orion has to say. The manager in question expels a small sigh, already feeling like this day has aged him ten years.

“Rowan…I’ve had my fair share of fights in my life,” he starts. “And I’ve hurt quite a bit of people. Some permanently. Years later there are still things I regret. So many words I wish I could take back. If I could turn back time..." His brows furrow, but he shakes his head. It’s funny.” He swallows, his minding going back to that night. The one night he tries to forget every day. “I've forgotten most of the reasons for the fights but I never forget the time I wasted or the things I did and didn’t do.” Rowan glances at him and Orion manages a weak smile. “I think I may just like punishing myself.”

Rowan scoffs dryly.

“I don’t want you to waste this unique experience. It’s not worth it.” He pauses. “And anger doesn’t suit you, frankly." That actually earns him a genuine smile.

Orion waits for a response, but Rowan says nothing. After a long moment, he sighs and moves out of the bed, standing upright. He doesn’t know if his advice has made a difference or not, but he hopes it’s the former.

It would be nice, he thinks, to be in Rowan’s position. To have a group of friends as close as them. Orion doesn’t remember the last time he truly confided in his friends. Every time they hang out, he can see in their eyes that they’re waiting for the day he opens up.

Maybe he is punishing himself. He’d deserve it, anyway.

As Orion gets lost in thought, he hears Rowan speak again. “Thanks...I guess."

“I’m your manager," he says easily. “That’s my job.”