How was it possible?

How could the world keep moving? Didn't they understand what just happened? Didn't they know everything changed? Didn't they get it? Didn't they care?

But maybe that was the problem. People didn't care. They had their own lives. Soccer games to attend. Food to pick up on their way home. Jobs to try and forget about. Stints at the gym. Bars to drink their troubles away.

Why would they care about him?

Why would anyone else?

Lou sure as hell didn't. He did what he wanted. He made the bands. He made the money. He blinded them all with the limelight, the luxury, the lashing of his silver tongue. He kept them going with the promises. So many promises!

"It's coming, you just have to be patient."

"Think of all you've seen! Think of where you've been! That's more important than. The more people you please, the better off we'll all be.

"I know, I know, but you'll have to wait a little longer. All the hard work will pay off. Trust me! I'm Big Poppa. I got you!"

Yeah, he got them. He got them alright.

And he laughed all the way to the bank.

The same bank he and his family had been fighting for years. Fighting for more time. Fighting for another chance. Fighting for survival.

He had it. He had it. It was right there, in his grasp, within his reach. He could almost taste it.

And then he got this...this foul, rotten, stinking garbage instead.

Maybe he deserved it. Who was he kidding? Thinking this was his shot, his chance to finally do something right. For himself. For his family. For his mom. She worked so hard for him, for them, and this is what he had to show for it?

He kicked at the lone can on the street. It bounced and clattered against the cracked sidewalk, flicking off someone's bright white adidas. The guy glared at him, muttering something as he walked by. He didn't hear him. Couldn't hear him. The world had no sound. Words bounced off him, sliding away. The slow setting sun did nothing to his cold skin. The smog and fumes filling the air may as well be oxygen. He continued to walk, back straight, eyes nowhere and anywhere all at once, hands balled into fists in his pockets, crushing that disgusting check into oblivion.

So much and so little at the same time.

Like him.

He had it all. He saw the world. He got to sing and perform in places he'd never even bothered to dream of because, well, the world wasn't accessible to people like him. And then it was. And he was riding high. They all were. They were on a rocket reaching great heights, meeting so many people, touching so many hearts, changing their lives.

Or so they thought.

So they were told.

And he was the fool to believe it.

But maybe that was what he got? For being the fool he became the fool. He told the joke and now the joke's on him.

Because his life's a joke.

Because he was a joke.

So...what was the point anymore? Of it all? What was the point of trying so hard to only be put right back in his place every time? To get knocked down and laughed at.

Over and over and over again.

Wind buffeted him as cars flew down the street. Headlights sliced bright beams across his face in the slow dying light. Rows and rows of people in their little bubbles, going on with their perfect lives. Because their lives still had meaning to them. They still had something to work towards. Something, someone, to help the keep on going.

He stopped at a corner. Cars slid by, moving this way and that, going along their charted paths. Stopped at red lights. Moved forward on green. Expected outcomes, no disruptions.

Maybe they needed one. Maybe they needed a good shakeup. Maybe they needed their lives to be upended just like his? And in the meantime, well...maybe it'd put his on pause for a while. Give him a chance to breathe. Or not.

He breathed. Looked left and right and left and right. He sucked in a quick breath and let it out again. Curled and uncurled his fingers. Crushed the check in his fist. Looked right.

The car was green. Like money. He would've laughed at the cruel irony if he had the time. He didn't have much left, after all. All he needed was to take a step forward.

Just one step.

Just one.

His whole body jerked at the tinny disco tune pealing out his pocket. Cursing, he took a few steps away from the curb and brought the phone up to his ear.

"Where are you?"

It was JC. Of course it was JC.

"Just...walkin'."

"Are you okay?"

Yeah. He was okay. Everything would be okay. In just a few minutes...

"I need you to be okay."

Fuck JC. Fuck him. Fuck everything.

"Chris?"

"Yeah?"

"Come back. ...Please." The seriousness was gone. That's what stopped Chris. Someone bumped into his shoulder but he didn't care. Didn't feel it. But JC.... Chris had never heard that tone before. Not from him. All that steady assuredness gone. His breath shook and his words wobbled. Almost like he was...scared.

"I will." Chris forced some light into his words. The less JC worried, the better off they all would be.

"Now." The word shot out like a bullet. "Come back now. We need you. All of us."

Did they? Because he was the reason they were in this position. He started it all. He did this. He did this. And he could undo it. He could fix it. And they wouldn't hate him anymore. He just had to keep going...

"Dude-"

"We'll figure this out. Together. Like always. Just...come back."

Chirs leaned up against the wall behind him, face tilted towards the sun. Would they? Or was this some sort of trick? Get him in under false pretenses to let him have it? They had the master puppeteer to learn from.

His nose wrinkled. Even he knew that wasn't fair. They didn't know either. They hadn't seen what was coming. They couldn't have. Not with Joey's not-so-eloquently uttered, "What the fuck?"

At least he had the balls to say it.

"C'mon, man, we need you. We can't do this...anything...without you." Chris clicked his tongue. JC's following sigh rumbled like a hurricane down the line. "I get it, dude. I get what all this meant for you. And it sucks. It fucking sucks. But it'll keep sucking if we don't do anything. And I don't know about you, but I'm fucking done doing nothing."

A smile broke onto Chris' face. "You should curse more often."

"I'm pissed."

"I know." He pushed away from the wall. "Just saying, makes you a lot more appealing. I think I even got a hard on for you."

"Dude..."

"That whole take charge thing really gets me going."

Chris didn't have to be standing in front of JC to know he rolled his eyes. "Are you coming or not?"

"You curse again and I just might."

"Whatever, dude!"

Chris softly laughed and hung up the phone. The cars passed by. The sun continued its slow descent to the horizon. Time moved on.

Chris would be okay. As long as he had his brothers, he'd be okay.