Prelude
It was suppose to have been the end to a normal, relaxing summer. One where we could continue to ignore our drumsticks and guitar picks chilling in our draws, pick up a beachball or two and chill at the pool (most likely at Stella's house). No flashy interviews. No screaming crowds of our adoring fans. No sour-faced critics breathing down our necks, analysing our every move. A fantastic end to a summer where we just normal teenagers without the pressure of being famous rockstars. So why did it go so wrong?