8 Chapter 8: Feeling Sorry

ZIGGY'S POV:

For the first time since our very first gig, Creed breaks his warm down routine. Rigby has settled onto the sofa, x-box controller in hand but Creed has vanished upstairs with Jett.

We all have our own routine that we follow.

Jett always winds down with a book while Nash goes out and f*cks whatever girl he's currently seeing. I tend to just head to my room and listen to music and Creed and Rigby play x-box together.

Even when Creed and Rigby fall out, they still play video games together after a gig. It's like a tradition or something. So, the fact that Creed hasn't sat his arse down next to Rigby is beyond weird.

There are only two possible reasons; he's actually really hurt, or he's not just pissed with Rigs, he's livid.

Looking at Rigby, it's clear to see that he's beginning to feel guilty.

"Is he actually hurt?" he asks absent-mindedly.

I shrug because I don't know any more than he does. Creed is behaving weird but if I was him, I wouldn't want to spend time with Rigs either. Rigby has been a f*cking b*stard all night.

When Jett returns alone, Rigby pretends to be oblivious but he's definitely listening when Nash asks, "Creed alright?"

"Just needs some sleep, I think."

Rigby doesn't say anything. Instead, he just flings the second controller at Nash. Shaking his head, Nash passes it to me.

"Sorry man. I'm heading out."

Of course, he is. There's no world in which he'd stop in to play x-box with us. We don't ask where he's going or who he's seeing. Whoever it is, she won't last the week.

I take a seat on the sofa, ignoring Rigs grumbling. As much as he won't admit it, he's worried that Creed is p*ssed with him. We play for about an hour, but Rigs is unsettled and keeps changing the game. One minute we're racing cars, then we're in a boxing ring, then before you know it, we're in a bloody war zone.

Abruptly, Rigby drops the controller on the table. Jett looks up from the book he's reading, glancing at me with a silent question written on his face.

What's wrong with him?

I shrug my shoulders again. Rigby has been a total sh*t all night so it's probably better not to say anything. I really don't like him so much when he's like this. Sighing, I watch him leave the room, slamming the door behind him.

"He just feels like a d*ck," Jett says.

"Still. He should just apologise and be done with it."

"Have you ever seen Rigs rush to apologise?" Jett chuckles at the idea.

"Is Creed alright?"

Jett doesn't respond immediately.

"He should be. I'm not really sure. We'll find out tomorrow, I suppose."

I watch him closely, trying to process what he just said. It doesn't make a heck of a lot of sense.

"Did he tell you what happened?" I want more details.

"Not yet."

"I guess we're not playing anymore. I can go to bed," I say.

There's no point asking Jett any more questions. It doesn't look like I'm going to get a straight answer. It's weird though. It's not like Creed not to tell us when something happens. That boy loves spinning a story. He's pretty overdramatic, a bit of a joker. He usually sees the funny side in everything so for him to be so serious that he's headed to bed early... well words don't explain how weird he's being.

Turning off the tv, I say good night to Jett. On my way up the stairs, I see Rigby stood leaning against Creed's door.

"Since when do you lock the door, man?" he's saying. "Are you still awake?"

I might be too far away to hear anything, but I don't think Creed responds.

"I just wanted to say that I'm sorry."

Rigby looks awkward as hell as he rubs the back of his neck with his palm.

I try to avoid eye contact as I walk past him but I can't resist adding my six pence.

"Come on, Creed. You know Rigs is an ars*hole."

Rigby lunges for me, pulling me into a headlock.

"You little sh*t!"

Relieved to see him smiling again, I manage to escape his grip.

"Night d*ck face."