Page 158 of Graves

Or the one I want to be?

Why can’t I always be the Aran who feels balanced and content? The one who smiles without noticing.

The contract should make me happy.

It doesn’t.

I revisit the chat with Koh. He’s seen my last message—my confession—but hasn’t replied yet.

“The label just offered us a new contract.”

Koh replies immediately. “Does that make you happy?”

I stare at the screen and think. “I guess so.”

“I’m happy when you’re happy.”

All the energy drains from my bones. With a shaky hand, I set the phone down and brace myself against the sink with both arms.

Something isn’t right.

Am I a liar?

Or am I just lying to myself?

A knock on the door pulls me out of the dark thoughts. “Aran! It’s time!”

“Well then…” I mutter to myself and take one last look in the mirror.

I’m pale. The alcohol has gone to my head. I don’t feel particularly drunk—which is good—but I’ve stayed away from coke since the last show. No wonder I feel like I’m driving with the handbrake on. To loosen up, I jump in place a few times, shake out my arms, and roll my neck. I grab my phone and leave the bathroom.

The pre-show buzz is palpable. Sam and Mike are slinging on their instruments while Liam drums on the back of the sofa with his sticks. A few label people and friends of the band are there too. Alex stands with Leslie, who’s making sure his ear protection is on properly.

“Ready?” Sam asks.

“Yeah.” I fill my cup at the drinks table with vodka and orange juice and nod at the guys.

I follow the band down the hallway and onto the stage, where we’re greeted by thunderous applause. Liam counts us in, and we launch into the first song with full force.

I’ve always felt at home on stage. Even the incident from last time doesn’t throw me off. Still, I scan the crowd, especially during the greeting. All I see is pure joy. People are celebrating, raising their drinks to me. I lift my cup in return, thank them, and take a big swig.

As the alcohol burns down my throat, a sharp sensation twists in my stomach. It’s not the first time. I’ve even considered seeing a doctor about it, but I already know why it’s happening.

I’m becoming someone I don’t want to be. I’m sliding into a life that’s slowly but surely killing me. Yet I announce the next song and keep going.

By the time we’re halfway through the set, I’m drenched in sweat. I grab my cup and empty it in one go. The moment I realize it’s not water, something inside me rebels again.

And that’s when I finally see what I’m doing.

The job is what’s driving me back to alcohol. It has become a kind of self-medication to get through these five gigs.

Fuck… and it won’t stop.

Mike is already playing the bassline for the next song when I take out the microphone from the stand and step to the edge of the stage.

“You know… we just found out that the label wants to sign us again.”

The crowd cheers euphorically and applauds. I raise a hand to calm them.