Zac

With every beat, I flinched. With every blow, my head wanted to explode. With every scream, I wanted to puke. With every song, I wanted to lie down and die, right there on stage.

Will I ever learn not to drink the night before shows?

I tried not to let it show. I didn’t want Ike to know how miserable I was. I didn’t want him to know that he was right. I didn’t want him to say, “I told you so,” again.

But everyone knew. Taylor knew. Isaac knew. Dad knew. I’m sure some of the fans could even tell how hung over I was. And I sure as hell knew. There was no way in hell I could ignore the headache that had taken over my entire body. Why the hell did I do something so stupid?

To save my brother's ass, of course.

After we stopped playing video games, I heard Taylor going at it with somebody in the next room. I didn’t want Bob and Clint to know, or at least remember, so I figured if we got smashed it would all be okay. Great. It’s just great. I’m miserable, and they’re probably miserable, and God only knows if my plan actually worked. We passed Scott in the hallway on our way out to get more beer, so I knew it wasn’t him. It had to be Dave. I sighed. Taylor was never going to let me have any friends. He was going to scare them all away with his gay self. Dammit. I recalled the looks the twins were giving each other; obviously they knew what was going on. But maybe, just maybe, they didn’t remember it this morning.

I pounded on the drums again and the little man inside my head pounded on the walls of my brain. The screaming was so loud. Shut the fuck up, teenies. Just this once, can’t you shut up?

I cringed my way through the set, trying to block out all the noises and aches running through my head. It didn’t last too long. Twelve songs and we were done. I stumbled offstage, hoping to find someone with coffee. I took the Styrofoam cup that was offered to me gratefully, sipping at the hot, dark liquid without regards to its scalding temperature.

Uhh...They were chanting. Stupid fucking fans were chanting. “Hanson! Hanson! Hanson!” It was a steady beat of high-pitched shrillish hell. I groaned to myself and flopped down onto a chair backstage, not knowing or caring where my brothers had gone. I just wanted to sleep.

“Hey, dude. Are you okay?” The voice was loud. Everything was loud.

I lifted my head from my hands and brushed a strand of my still-wet hair behind my ear. The boy was looking at me. Who was he? The face was familiar...”Oh, hey, Clint. Yeah, I’m...I’m all right. Just a little hung over. That’s all.”

He laughed and took off his hat. “Yeah, dude. I can tell. It’s Bob, not Clint.” He chuckled at me again as I realized my mistake, finally being able to tell who he was by his hair.

“Oh, man.” I laughed slightly, but the movement hurt. “Sorry...I...Damn.”

“It’s all good, man. Don’t worry about it.” He grabbed an orange juice from the table next to me and sat down on the bench with me. “Shit, you drank a lot last night. Me and Clint were just watching you down ‘em. You would’ve gone on all night if we hadn’t run out of beer.”

I looked up at him again, and I know my jaw almost hit the floor. “I finished off the beer?” I asked, in awe of myself.

“Hell yeah. You’re crazy, man. We crowned you Beer King.” Bob stopped to laugh at me again. “You don’t remember?”

I shook my head. Oh man.

Scott

I watched them perform from a distance, not wanting to get too close. I was still in shock. Taylor Hanson...My brother...God. Taylor was amazing. I watched him play at the crowd, watched the way he worked them into a frenzy, watched them comply with his every request.

Jump. How high? Scream. How loud? Clap. How hard? Sing. They knew all the words.

I snorted to myself, suddenly amused at the fact that they could never have what they wanted. It was hilarious to me that Taylor I-can-have-any-girl-I-want Hanson was gay. Oh, if they only knew. I chortled again as I realized how many fans we shared with Hanson. Taylor and Dave. Such a scandal.

Hanson’s set amused me. They played the infamous “Mmmbop” last, and the crowd went absolutely insane. It was fun to watch Taylor, banging on the keyboard, jumping up and down, stomping his foot. What was with him stomping his foot? I didn’t hold back the grin on my face, just stood there stupidly and watched. They really were great musicians, no matter what I said in interviews.

At the end of their segment Taylor tore his shirt from his body, but kept it on stage with him. And he was smart enough to wear a wife-beater underneath. I understood. Many times in earlier days I had thrown my shirts into the audience, exposing my naked skin to the fans and hot lights. Needless to say I never saw my shirts again, but even worse, a lot of times some people got hurt. I’ve decided to “keep it on” as the web-campaign goes, from now on.

I found myself almost frowning as the boys walked offstage. I had been enjoying myself. But I knew I would definitely not enjoy having to speak with Taylor (or DAVE for that matter) again, but it was inevitable. We were already friends with them, and no matter how hard I tried, I knew my brothers wouldn’t give that up.

And I wasn’t sure if I even wanted to.

Dave

I watched Bob with envy in my stare. Oh, to be able to just walk up and speak with a Hanson, sit with him and laugh.

I was more nervous than ever around Taylor. The events of the previous night had only fueled my obsession with him, and when he walked past me I could do nothing but stare. He gave me a little smile and a wink and patted me on the arm. I knew I looked like a fan, the way my jaw hung open in disbelief, but I couldn’t shake it. The power that was Taylor had overcome me.

I collected myself after he left and decided to eat. My head was hurting from a slight hangover and I knew I needed some coffee. I walked, feigning casualty with some difficulty, over to the snack table that stood by Zac and my brother, and picked out some fruits and pastries to munch on while I drank my half-white coffee. Cream is God.

“Yo! Davey!” Zac yelled at me from the other side of the table. I flinched and looked up to see him doing the same. “Dude, I’m sorry. Ow.”

Bob and I giggled quietly and I walked over to them.

“So how smashed were you last night? From what I hear, I was wasted.” Zac looked up at me with dull, pained, eyes and I knew that he was telling the truth.

I laughed and tried to choke the rush of blood that threatened to take over my whole face and turn it crimson. “Um...I don’t think I was that bad,” I managed to stutter. “I’m kind of hung over, but it’s not too bad.” Oh God. Please don’t see right through me.

Bob and Zac exchanged a look that worried me. What do you know?!? I wanted to scream. What are you two thinking about? The urge to grab them both by the collar and pound the information out of them was overwhelming, but not half as strong as my nerves. My stomach was jumping with each second of silence, and I knew that the longer I stood there, the more chance they had to say something evil to me. Something that might make me tell them. If they didn’t already know...

I cleared my throat quickly and tossed my empty coffee cup into the trash. “Um, I’m gonna go get ready and stuff...We’re on after the next act.” I took off quickly, not looking back to see the knowing looks on their faces.