Chapter 58: In This Together

*Natalia's POV*

If it weren't for my stupid crutch and leg brace, this would have felt like another one of our spontaneous adventures. As much as I loved watching videos of Joe performing and his random Instagram lives soundchecking or the teases he gave of recording pieces of a new song in a studio, nothing beat hearing his voice in person. It was raw, effortlessly immaculate, and full of emotions he had trouble expressing otherwise.

Joe kept his word on doing all the work, including pushing me in a wheelchair at the airport. We both had light luggage, easy to heave around, which made it all the more fun for him to scare the living shit out of me with all the wheelchair tricks that ultimately brought joy to the situation.

"Do you think going in sweatpants would be appropriate?" I asked him, rummaging through my few outfits I brought for the cold weather.

He walked to the bed where all my clothes were spread out and peered over my shoulder, his hand naturally wrapping around my lower waist to pull himself closer, "What about the denim jeans? Aren't they one of your favorites?"

"They are, but they're too tight. I'd have to wear my brace over them," my fingers trailed over the malleable fabric, "I don't necessarily want that to be an attention grabber."

"I mean, you're just going to stay backstage and watch on the TV screen, right?" he clarified my plans on hiding away, watching him and his brothers perform from one of the couches with Mikey with what the cameras aired on the big screens, "Wear what you want. I'll make sure no one asks what happened."

"And how exactly are you going to do that?" I raised an eyebrow after turning my body to face him, my arms loosely locking themselves around his neck, "Send a massive email to every single crew member and bandmate flagging it as urgent?"

"No, but that's not a bad idea," he chuckled, "I'll be with you the whole time. Well, until I have to run to the stage. By that point, it'll just be you and Mikey. You can trust him."

"So you're going to be my bodyguard," I smirked, unlocking my hands to reach up to the back of his head and lightly run my fingers through his curls.

"No," the green in his eyes sparkled as they stared into mine, the softness in his tone matching them, "I'm your boyfriend."

There was no point in fighting my smile, plastering big on my face as I pulled at his hair to collide our lips together. He always made sure no one hurt me, or at the very least tried to prevent it as much as humanly possible. When he couldn't, when it was out of his control, he took care of the hurt one stitch at a time with tender attentiveness.

My smile stayed even when we pulled apart, "Thank you."

"For what?" his little cheesy beam fluttered my stomach.

The corners of my lips turned into a teasing smize, "For letting me get in your Uber."

"Hey, you're lucky I'm not some murderer!" he giggled, "Besides, I couldn't let our fun end at the bar. I can still vividly picture your face, so annoyed while trying to scold me."

"And I remember yours! So smug and egotistical," my giggle harmonized with his until it slowly dimmed down as our eye contact remained locked, "It was one of the best decisions I ever made."

The hotel room blurred, the only thing in focus being Joe. He was the same man I remembered him being, before he flew to London. It was as if whatever happened never did, or it no longer affected him in such a way that it seeped into our relationship.

After a long pause of hesitation, he opened his mouth to speak, "I—"

"Think I'm going to go with the jeans," I purposely interrupted him, lowering my arms before turning my body to pick my jeans up off the bed, along with a simple long-sleeved white shirt and a brown jacket, "Thank you for your fashion input."

And the encouraging strength and love. But I couldn't get sucked in too deep, too quickly. It'd throw away my focus on fixing myself, the one thing I told the both of us I wouldn't sacrifice. I couldn't keep falling for him at such a fast pace.

"Yeah, no problem," he cleared his throat, "I'll give you privacy to change. If you need my help, just call for me. I'll be right on the other side of the wall."

I gave him a smile before he walked out, keeping a small gap between the door and the frame. Just in case.

In the midst of me rushing to get ready, pushing through the pain every time I had to move my leg in ways that Brett would reprimand me for, I heard another male's voice muffled with Joe's. Then silence.

With knitted eyebrows while I finished buckling my brace tight over my jeans, I grabbed my purse from off the bed next to the pile of clothes that were left unchosen, one of my crutches that leaned against the wall, and opened the door. Right in the middle of the common area was a wheelchair.

"Really?" I motioned to it with my free hand, the other gripping onto the handle of my crutch. Its non-slip silicone over the aluminum frame were meant to bring supported comfort, but the truth was, every time my palms made contact with the material, my skin crawled.

"I told you I'd be wheeling you the whole time," he nonchalantly replied from the kitchen area, taking out two cold water bottles and holding them up, "You want one too, right?"

"Uh, yeah. Yeah. Thank you," I stuttered as Joe walked over to the wheelchair before bringing it right in front of me.

"Your chariot awaits," he winked, helping me sit down and put my crutch on top of my lap with my purse, something that was somewhat of a funny obstacle going through all the doors and elevators.

Joe wasn't underestimating when he said time would be tight. We arrived ten minutes before they were supposed to go on, stressing everyone out in the process.

The first to greet me was Kevin. He was all smiles, leaning down to give me a friendly hug before slipping his guitar strap across his upper body and waited by the bottom of the stage for his two younger brothers.

Then a bunch of crew members passing back and forth, some awkwardly waving at me. I wasn't sure if it was because I was with Joe, or because they pitied seeing me in a wheelchair with a bulky brace around my leg.

"Hey!" Mikey put his hand on Joe's shoulder, hugging him good luck, "I may have stolen a few of your honey packets, but I promise I'll tell someone to replace them as soon as they can."

"What the fuck?" Joe laughed, "You're the DJ! You don't even sing! Why would you need them?"

"They're good, okay?" he laughed with him before turning to me and doing the same as Kevin had, "Hey, Nat. Guess I'm taking you off Joe's hands if that's still okay with you."

I nodded with a smile, "You going to also keep me company and watch their performance with me?"

"That's the plan," he winked, taking ahold of the wheelchair's rubber handles in the back.

Joe knelt down to my level, cupping my face to tenderly kiss my lips, "I'll see you the second I get off the stage, if you don't mind all the sweat."

"I never have," I wrinkled my nose with a shake of the head, a smirk teasingly playing with the corners of my mouth, "Good luck, Babe. Not that you need it."

Joe pecked my lips once more before joining Kevin, doing his push-up ritual on the floor like it was a normal sighting. It was specifically twenty push-ups. No more, no less.

Mikey turned my wheelchair to head back into the common area where a giant TV was hung on the wall for our viewing pleasure. He was pushing me slower than Joe, definitely a lot less chaotically. If anything were to happen to me on account of a careless mistake, he knew Joe would chew him out. Possibly then become a murderer.

While I was too hyperfixated of what I'd say to a stranger if they came up asking me a million-and-one questions with a fake sorrow about my leg, I hadn't even noticed Mikey stopped us in the middle of the hallway until my gaze focused on white shoes right in front of me. No one else wore such clean, blinding shoes than him.

I glanced up, his curls cut shorter than what I remembered but still were perfectly defined, "Hi."

"Hey," Nick replied with the smallest of a smile, "You're here."

"I am," I breathed out, "Is that okay, or am I still unwanted?"

Nick's attention was temporarily distracted by a crew member informing him he had two more minutes before showtime, then glanced back at me, "I never meant to make you feel like you were unwanted. Look, I know you're here to support Joe. No one would travel for a few days across the country to make sure he's okay after London. I'm glad you're here. I know he needs you too."

My head tilted, the topic of London brought up still a mystery, "I am, but—"

"Nick," the crew member gestured with waving fingers, "You're on."

"Good luck," I managed to say as he lightly squeezed my hand, then rushed out the door while Mikey pushed me forwards.

With his help, I hopped out of the wheelchair and relaxed into the clouded couch cushions. It provided my leg zero support, but that was what the table was for once Mikey pulled it right up to the couch.

I could hear the songs being performed ever so slightly in the background, but it was all caught on HD on the TV in front of us. Joe's energy was a mix of laxed and disordered in the best ways. His confidence with each song was shown with each slow strut down the catwalk, constantly interacting with the fans.

Joe loved to connect. For the most part, at least. Which it didn't surprise me when he put a halt to the setlist to talk to a fan. A one-on-one interaction as he brought the family up to the barricade to talk to them.

"Hi, I couldn't help but notice your sign," he smiled, bending his knees to lower himself down to eye level, "Thank you for allowing us to be your first concert. What's your name?"

A little girl in her dad's arms shyly squeaked out on the big screen, "Um. Lily."

"Lily?" Joe asked for confirmation, "Lily, how old are you?"

She held up all five fingers, mesmerized by Joe more than the stage lights and all the commotion of the fans awing at the special moment.

"Five? No way!" Joe's eyes twinkled as the camera went back on him after he stood, "That's such a good age. My daughter's also five. This song is for you, Lily, okay?"

Once he stopped at the middle of the stage, right in between his brothers, the twinkle I saw shifted into a film of tears welling up. I sat up from my position, instinctively placing my hand on Mikey's arm, "Can you get my crutch?"

"Huh? Oh, okay," Mikey said, reaching for my crutch leaned up against the wall near him, "Do you have to go to the bathroom? I can push you in the chair."

I shook my head as my attention stayed on the screen, hearing Joe's voice crack as he continued to speak, "This is also for any parent out there, anyone that plays that role in someone's life, or anyone that's lost a loved one. We see you. We hear you. We're here for you. We're in this together."

Nick's verse started the ballad, giving Joe time to try to collect himself. But he needed to know I was here for him. That we were in this together. He needed to see for himself.

I seized my crutch from Mikey and hobbled my way out the room. Mikey followed me with my wheelchair, advising that he could bring me out without hurting myself, but I didn't care. I didn't stop until I stood at the stairs to the side of the stage, just as Joe's verse began.

His voice was filled with pain that I didn't fully understand, but he held back the tears like he told himself to do. Until he turned his head and saw me standing there, gripping onto the cold railing of the stairs staring up at him.

I placed my other hand on my heart and nodded my head to him with similar tears in my eyes, my crutch already fallen before Mikey picked it up off the ground.

He looked back at the crowd and parted his lips, letting out two words before turning his back to wipe his eyes with his thumb and index finger while the rest of the lyrics were sung to him instead. He needed it too. He needed to be seen, heard, and supported. Not just by me, but his fans too.

As the song finished, he gazed back at me in tears and mouthed a 'thank you' while resting his hand over his heart, just as I had been doing throughout the whole time I stood there watching in person on the sidelines. Watching on the couch didn't do justice.