Chapter Text
He buckles himself into the driver’s seat, he can feel the distant reflection in the background of the man who was his “best friend”, outside the front seats. The van had been parked along the road for a while, giving everybody a break from the constant travelling.
On the dashboard of the car, there are scattered letters from excited fans, photographs from everywhere they’ve been, recipes from shopping, condiment packets from the occasional restaurant, and the tablet they shared at times.
It’s calm, in the van. The sky outside is wonderful, a beautiful, light shade of blue, clouds slowly moving across the horizon.
Or this can all be remembered as a tragedy.
He rests his hands on the steering wheel, relishing in the position he wanted to be in- No. The position he deserved to be in. He rests his hand on the gear shift, taking a moment to accept the weight of the item. His hand almost seems to fit unnaturally the control, but he tightens his grip anyways and pulls back. He starts the car, shifting his foot onto the gas pedal a little later, but pressing down, his foot not getting used to the feeling just yet. It’s a bit unpleasant, but he pushes forward.
I can fix this.
It doesn’t matter anymore. They can all die, as victims of a tragedy. It doesn’t matter, if it’s fixed or not. This, this is the best ending for him, for the band, for everything they’ve worked for.
Everything you and I worked for in our lives. Accomplishments, changes.
He starts driving, the scenery changing as he drives the van across the empty landscape.
It’s a peaceful ride, easy on them all. It can be quick. It will be quick. They’ll be okay. He can fix this.
None of it will matter.
He drives the van, driving past the empty, endless landscapes.
He enjoys the feel. The power. The steering wheel feels uncomfortable in his grasp, his foot rests almost unnaturally against the gas pedal.
He presses down more, driving faster. He can feel himself getting pushed lightly into his seat from the speed he’s going, the scenery almost starting to become a bit of the blur as he drives along the barren road.
No one needs to see, they can all be tragic victims, in a freak accident of a faulty vehicle. The Tulpar is just a shitty old van anyways, a freak accident is expected now isn’t it?
What do you think will happen when we get back?
He doesn’t- no…They don’t need to worry about this anymore. No one does. Not him, not that stupid intern…not anybody.
He drives by the hillside.
The band took a different route to avoid traffic, it’s empty here, completely barren as they travel across states.
He stares out the window…
The metal railing that would keep some dumb fuck from mindlessly off track and crashing to their demise is rusted and old.
As if by second nature, his grip on the steering wheel tightens, as he steers the car to the right.
All I ever hear is how great of a leader you are.
He goes off track. The van’s emergency sensors start blaring, trying to warn him, trying to tell him against it. But he tunes it out, like he always does. This dumb machine can’t tell him what to do, now can it?
He drives closer and closer to the railing, the sensors blaring even louder at the detected object.
Loud enough for him to barge in.
“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?”
The man who was once his best friend charges forward, battling his way into the driver’s seat as he grabs hold of the steering wheel, trying to steer away.
“FUCKING! LET GO! WE CAN ALL DIE AS TRAGIC VICTIMS IN AN ACCIDENT!”
He screams, roughly spinning the steering wheel to go right. The van slams against the railing, sparks flying as his “friend” steers left.
“I CAN FIX THIS!”
We can figure all of this out.
“THIS ISN’T THE ANSWER! ONE STEP AT A TIME!”
His friend hollers, trying to shove him out the driver’s seat as he spins the van left.
The two of them fight furiously, the van going whack as it loses all control and momentum, going closer and closer to driving off the side.
He yells and screams, before punching his friend hard in the face, causing him to loosen his hold on the steering wheel.
He grabs hold of it again, and roughly steers it right.
The van is sent crashing into the railing, breaking apart the rusty metal, as it’s sent rolling down the hillside.
As the van tips over, rolling down, windows shattering and the sounds of screaming in the background, he feels the fear bubbling inside him. He lets go of the steering wheel, going to cover his eyes, to shield himself.
You were supposed to be the one who had everything under control. You said so yourself.
His friend grabs him, wrapping his arms around him tightly, trying to shield him, trying to protect him, trying to protect the nostalgia he once had with him.
This ship, this crew, everything that happened here…
He subconsciously wraps his arms around him too, shattered glass breaking into the van, the smell of smoke and gas filling their lungs as the letters and little trinkets from over the years are sent flying everywhere.
This was your responsibility, Captain.
Blood is splattered everywhere, pained groans, screams and cries in the background, as the vans sensors blare louder and louder…
That is what you’ll be hearing the rest of your life.
Each crash takes a toll on them. Each crash is followed by a hard snap as bones break. They hit across every surface in the front seat, banged against the dashboard, the steering wheel, the doors and against broken shards of glass…The airbags don’t seem to be working.
Or this can all be remembered as a tragedy.
The van continues to roll down the hillside, as he cowers away in the comfort of his friend, clinging onto the man and using him as a shield.
Despite what must have been the efforts of its acclaimed captain.
Until it all stops, a finale.
The Tulpar crew was never found.
As the van crashes onto the ground, shattered glass, dreams and nostalgia.
No one survived to tell the tale.
The van seems to rock back and forth for a moment. With a final wheeze, a final strain from the engine, it breaks down at the bottom of this ditch.
I’ll take care of it.