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Joel tears off stage as soon as they’ve finished their whole routine and dance of their farewell to the audience. It’s too much. It’s too much, too much, too much, too much.
He makes a beeline for the showers, ignoring his bandmates and crew. The fluorescent lights feel like they’re burning his eyes and skin and he can’t stand it anymore. The repetitive sound of his footsteps is grating on his sensitive ears, and he wants to vomit.
Everything is all too much and he hates every second of it. He bangs into the dressing room, managing to kick off his shoes, along with his socks, before he stomps past the partition and into the tiled showers. He picks a spot and cranks the water on on cold, letting it flow over him and soak into his clothes.
He’s not sure what he wants. The water on his skin feels like it’s running over exposed nerves, and he can feel every groove and crack in the tiles under his feet as the water makes his stage gear turn heavy and itchy. It still hurts and the bubble of frustration in his chest is only growing larger, pressing against his ribs, threatening to burst and make a mess of everything.
It had happened before, everything, every single input of anything , had become painful and overwhelming, and he’d lost it. Joel had pushed everyone away from him, shouting and swearing at anyone who came close, even though none of them had deserved any of it. It had just felt so bad that he hadn’t known what to do, and it had just bubbled over and spilled out of him, like a cooking pot boiling over.
He hates this. Hates that it’s his life; that everything could be fine and then definitely, overwhelmingly not in the next second. That he could be basking in the attention and rush of the set, and then hate the eyes and applause and heat and strobe of stage lights and screaming as soon as the music was over.
He can’t stop angry, frustrated tears from spilling out as he squeezes his eyes shut, wanting to scream. Instead he claps his hands over his ears, hitting his head against the cold tile wall. Everything he hears, tastes, smells, and touches feels like it hates him personally. He couldn’t help it, why did it have to be him and not any of the others?
Joel sinks to the ground, pulling his knees against his chest as if they could shield him from the world around as the bubble in his chest swells to a breaking point.