Disclaimer: I own absolutely nothing!! (But you already knew that, right? LOL!)

The crowds were screaming. Their cries echoed off the stadium walls, ricocheting back to Jason Grey's ears as he strummed his guitar, his fingers flying over the frets in time to the beat he could barely hear. He stared out into the blackness of the venue, only able to see the faces of the people, mostly girls, in the first few rows. The flashes from the cameras, cell phones, and glow sticks mingled with the overwhelming pitch of the screams to assure Jason that every seat had indeed been sold out tonight. He smiled, happy to be onstage once again. Recording was always enjoyable, maybe even fun, but the real joy was getting on a stage every night and letting loose.

"What's going on, Los Angeles?!" Shane, his brother, boomed through the microphone as the song ended, walking to the middle of the stage. He had long ago perfected that swagger that could only be his, and Jason almost envied him for it.

Girls responded to the rhetorical question with shrill screams of excitement. Why wouldn't they? One of America's cutest guys was walking right towards them! Jason cast a sympathetic look towards his younger brother, Nate, knowing that the screams were undoubtedly bothering his "perfect pitch" hearing. Sure enough, the younger boy had pasted a smile on his face and was gripping his guitar a little tighter than absolutely necessary in an effort not to grimace.

"We have a new song for you," Shane informed the crowd, continuing to speak to the girls in the first few rows with his trademark smirk. The cheers rose again and Shane had to wait for the screams to die down so that he could be heard throughout the venue. "It was written by my brother, Jason Grey!" Shane swept his hand out, motioning to where Jason stood, guitar and water bottle in hand.

This time, the screams were not as loud, the sea of people not bobbing up and down as much as they jumped in excitement. Jason fought against his emotions, desperate to keep his face from showing the disappointment he felt. Like his brother, Jason pasted on a smile, nodding to each girl that he could see that was clapping and cheering for him. Each one that smiled back gave him a little more strength to play the song that he had written. Each girl that screamed her approval gave him a little more courage to sing his part.

By the time the song had ended, Jason felt that he was, once more, on top of the world. What did it matter if the screams that followed his song didn't pierce through his earplugs like Shane's songs always did? What did it matter that Nate played more instruments than he could? What did it matter that most of the girls were drawn like magnets to Shane and not him? He, Jason, had his own talents, and they were important, necessary even, to the band. He lifted his chin slightly, confidence having returned once more, and played on as the music morphed into another one of Shane's hits.

There was no feeling in the world as euphoric as being onstage and hearing the bass vibrations pounding through you, more pronounced than your own heartbeat. For Jason, in the moments that he was onstage, the bass was his heartbeat. He closed his eyes, letting his body relax and his mind take control. The tension released from his shoulders and spine, allowing him to enjoy himself a little more.

By the time the concert ended, with another rendition of the pyrotechnics that he loved to engineer, Jason was exhausted, but happy. He handed his guitar off to someone waiting nearby, nodding and thanking him as he walked past. Shane caught up to him, slapping him hard on the back. "Good job out there," he told Jason. "The crowd really liked your song!"

"Yeah," Jason muttered, "because you sang it." But Shane never heard him because at that moment, his girlfriend, Mitchie, slipped backstage and was immediately whisked into her boyfriend's arms.

When Shane finished hugging her, he turned back to his brother, actually focusing on him for a moment. "Did you say something?" he asked.

Jason just smiled and shook his head. "Nope," he said.

Shane frowned. "Oh," he said. "I thought you said something."

Jason shook his head. "It must be the ringing in your ears from all that screaming. You didn't take your earplugs out again, did you?"

The guilty look on Shane's face showed that he had. He claimed that he loved to hear the fans' responses without any barriers sometimes, but Jason had a sneaking suspicion that he really loved to hear all the "I love you" screams aimed at him.

Shane brushed off the question and asked instead, "You're coming to the after party, aren't you?" When Jason appeared about ready to beg off going again, Shane grabbed his arm. "You've got to come!" he wheedled. "Just for a little while. Please?"

"Shane, I'm tired," Jason replied with a sigh, rubbing a hand across his face. He knew that his brother was going to win, and his brother knew that he was going to win. It was just a matter of how much Shane would have to push before he actually won.

"Please?" Shane begged again.

Jason sighed again and Shane knew that he had won yet again. His brother must be tired if he hadn't put up more of a fuss than that! However, Shane was not about to question his good fortune. His brother needed to get out more, to see the world and to be seen, and he was going to thrust him into society as many times as he could.

"I'm taking my own car, though," Jason told Shane wearily.

"Fine," Shane agreed sourly, knowing that agreeing to this condition was opening the door for his brother to slip away from the party whenever he wanted, but then again, beggars couldn't be choosers, now could they?

"Good," Mitchie said, speaking for the first time since she had come backstage. She never liked watching the two boys argue, but she was in a rather precarious situation. She was the girlfriend of one and the good friend of the other. There was no way that she could help one out without offending the other, so night after night she watched them argue, and she carefully extracted them when they were finished. It was just one of those things that couldn't be helped.


The party was in full, chaotic swing when the Grey boys arrived with their dates. Nate and his girlfriend immediately headed over to an empty table against the wall and sat down, neither one of them really preferring to dance. They were the quiet ones, the dreamers, and they preferred to plot and plan rather than to actually thrust themselves into the limelight. Shane pulled Mitchie onto the dance floor, already crowded with gyrating couples, before she had a chance to say anything to Jason. And as for Jason, he was left standing in the entryway, alone once again.

Not in the mood to dance, and lacking a partner, Jason slowly made his way over to an empty table. With the lights from the strobes sporadically flashing across the polished table surface in red, green, yellow, and blue, Jason looked at the empty chair across from him. Then, he looked around at the rest of the table scattered around the exterior of the floor, noticing that every table had a couple sitting at it, laughing and talking or simply catching their breaths after their turn on the floor.

He closed his eyes, letting himself imagine that he was not alone. He had a cute girl sitting across from him, smiling at him like he was the only guy in the room. When he opened his eyes, Jason nearly jumped out of his chair. Mitchie sat in front of him, her chin in her hands, looking slightly worried. Obviously, more time had passed than he had thought.

"Sorry," she apologized bashfully. "Didn't mean to scare you."

Jason shook his head, feeling his heart slowly returning to normal speed. "You just surprised me," he told her. "I was just thinking about having a pretty girl sitting in that seat, and when I opened my eyes, my imaginations came to life. I should close my eyes more often."

Mitchie blushed at the compliment but caught the wistful tone in her friend's voice. The music changed and she raised her voice so that she could be heard above the noise of the room. "Your time will come," she promised him, patting his hand affectionately.

Jason shrugged. "Maybe," he said, sounding unconvinced. He pushed back his chair and stood up. I think I'm going to go," he told his friend.

Mitchie frowned, standing as well. "But you just got here," she protested, and Jason could tell that she was doubting her crowd-encompassing skills at keeping everyone happy and together.

"It's not you," Jason assured her, trying to silently tell her that he was grateful for her company but that as wonderful as it was, it wasn't enough to keep him in this party atmosphere any longer.

"Mitchie!" someone called. Both friends turned to find Shane waving at them from across the room. He was surrounded by a group of people who all turned in Jason and Mitchie's direction to study Mitchie.

"You'd better go," Jason told her, knowing that whoever the people were, it was in Mitchie's best interest that she go and meet them.

"But-!" she started to protest.

"Mitchie!" Shane called again, unable to hear their conversation over the roar of the room.

Jason smiled, touching his friend's back and giving her a slight push towards the crowd. "I'll be fine, Mitch," he told her. "Don't worry about me."

Reluctantly, Mitchie walked over to the group, glancing over her shoulder just in time to see Jason slip out the door, disappearing into the darkness of the night. She shook her head sadly. "Poor Jason," she whispered, knowing that no one else could hear her, and then turned to greet the new people in Shane's little group with her most famous smile.

Jason trudged out to his car, pulling the keys out of his pocket. How different, and rather peaceful, the night felt without the incessant pounding of the pop and rock music blaring in his ears. The night seemed calm, and definitely less colorful now that he was outside. He took in a deep breath of cold, clean air and sighed again, unlocking the door of his car and sliding into the driver's seat, feeling slightly lethargic. Why had he agreed to this party?

"Because you hoped that it would be different," a small voice inside his tired head whispered to him. "You thought you might actually find someone at the party, just like you always hope you will."

"And I failed again," he added out loud, revving the engine.

He pulled out of the crowded parking lot and merged onto the busy streets of Los Angeles, heading for the nearest freeway. It was his non-stop ticket to his hotel room, bed, and a good night's sleep so that he could sleep off the loneliness that he once again felt.

With his mind occupied, Jason never saw the car to his left that ran the stop sign. He only felt the jarring thud and heard the cacophonous squeals and crunches his car made in protest. His head hit the window with a sharp crack and the world spun upside down so quickly that the rotation was blurred in Jason's mind.

The car continued to roll, and Jason felt himself fade in and out of consciousness. He barely recognized that his seatbelt was choking him before a small part of his brain drew his attention to the window for a split second. There was a red smear on it, ghosting over the glass, and Jason realized that it was blood, his blood. It was almost a relief when the car ended its rotation by slamming down on its hood, knocking Jason into a blissful blackness with only the sound of breaking glass as the closing melody.

A/N: Well? Did you guys like it? It struck me that there are very few fics about Jason (Kevin) and he seems to get left out a lot. :( That's depressing for me so I figured that I'd write this and see what you think. Yes, Jason's character is OOC. He's not a birdbrain, so there's no need for a birdhouse. ;) Please review, and I hope you like it! Quick sidenote: If any of you have ever seen the movie Just Like Heaven, you'll find some similarities, but this story is NOT a crossover. It has nothing, really, to do with that movie.