The first words out of Damon's mouth as we stepped into the tour bus that morning were, "And where the hell were you two?"

"I took Cassie out for breakfast," August lied easily.

Damon raised an eyebrow but didn't comment on it.

"If you were any later, we would have left without you," was all he said.

"No you wouldn't have," August said.

"Sure would." Damon smirked. "We'd get that spit-fire drummer from Cherry Lips to take your place. Bet he'd jump at the chance to fill August Summer's shoes."

The look that crossed August's face was worrying. Cloudy and dark, with a hint of panic and vulnerability. It was a startling expression to see on someone so self-assured. Surely he wasn't really worried about them leaving without us?

"We can't take off without August," Ian said. "Cameron would open his big mouth and Noah would end up strangling him within minutes."

Instead of laughing at the joke, the band members nodded in agreement. What an odd relationship those two had.

Because we'd been up all night, I feigned a restless sleep and went to take a nap in the bedroom at the back of the bus. I didn't know if August also slept. When I woke up, we were already parked outside the concert hall the next city over.

Rubbing the sleep out of my eyes and grabbing my camera, I followed the others off the bus and into the building for rehearsals and sound check.

I tried to busy myself with work until the concert started, but it was no use. I was too distracted. My gaze kept wandering over to August.

Last night had been magical. I could still taste August on my lips. I still inhaled his scent with every one of my breaths. It was like all my senses were attuned to him and him alone.

As much as my mind scolded me to focus on my work, my body had no objections to me reminiscing.

I missed the moment the band took the stage. I decided instead of taking my usual pictures of the band for the first half of the concert, I'd keep my camera on the audience. August didn't only want me to capture the band's passion. He wanted me to capture the excitement, the fervor, of their fans.

I snapped photo after photo. Soon, a shiny black piano was rolled out on stage for Noah's solo. The audience hushed in anticipation of his heartfelt, moving performance. The other members made their way backstage for a short break.

Even as I kept my attention on the audience, I couldn't help but follow August out of the corner of my eye. We hadn't had a chance to speak alone since that morning. Was he having just as much difficulty concentrating as I was? Was he still wrapped up in the memory of last night?

The frown lines between his eyebrows were familiar. It was the same strained expression I'd seen at the first concert, when I'd helped him take off his shirt.

And wasn't that just another delicious memory to savor?

It was also the same look he'd had when I'd helped him with the ice pack. Lowering my camera, I studied August's posture. I couldn't tell if he was favoring his shoulder or not.

Concerned, I started to make my way over to him. I stopped when I saw him speaking to a roadie. Maybe those frown lines had to do with the concert. Something might have gone wrong and August needed to tell someone to fix it.

The roadie pressed something into August's hand. I wouldn't have caught it if I hadn't been looking right at them. Probably new drumsticks, I reasoned. I didn't know what else a roadie might have to give him before his next performance.

August nodded to the roadie and approached an assistant for a bottle of water. He turned his back and swallowed down a mouthful. The water must have helped cool him down, because some of the tension left his shoulders.

When Noah's piano solo and the twins' dueling guitar performance were done, all the band members took the stage again. I made my way to the pit, making sure my VIP pass was firmly and securely placed around my neck.

Photos from the front of the stage were some of my favorites. Noah's eyes burned with an inner fire. The twins entertained the audience with their playful antics. Cameron strutted around like he owned the place. August's muscled arms became a blur as he gave everything he had into the performance.

All of it combined to create one picture perfect moment that encapsulated Darkest Days.

Even as the crowd squished me from all sides and tossed me about, my gaze was fixated on August. With the way he hit each beat in strong fluid motions, the way his hair whipped around his face, the way his cheeks flushed with exertion, it was no wonder I couldn't concentrate on anything else.

August was always at the back of the stage. It was difficult to get good shots of him, unlike the easy access I had to the rest of the guys. I had to zoom in to get anything worthwhile.

I gave up and put all my focus on the drummer for the last half of the concert. I'd make sure I took enough photos of the other guys later on to make up for it.

Last night, August's eyes had shined so beautifully in the moonlight. They left me breathless.

I wanted to capture that sentiment again. I was sure whatever August had been feeling then couldn't be half as passionate as his feelings on stage, playing for thousands of adoring fans. I wasn't even in the band, or a crazed fan, and yet I was getting caught up in the thrill of their performance.

My pounding heart, burning lungs and aching feet were a welcome reminder of how lucky I was to get a front row seat to something this unforgettable.

Wanting to capture that passion, I zoomed in, putting August's face in the frame.

His eyes weren't the same clear, brilliant ice blue they were last night. Instead, they had a sort of hazy look to them, almost distant, wavering. It was a now familiar look. I'd always assumed it was August being distracted by his inner thoughts, always worrying about something, or thinking things through.

As I continued shooting, the cheering of the crowd turned into hushed murmurs. Girls behind me whispered indistinctly to each other in questioning tones. Two guys in front of me turned to look at each other, confused.

Then I heard it. And saw it.

August missed a beat. Then another.

The strain on his brow had returned. His eyes were wide, fogged over. His chest heaved as if struggling to breathe. His pupils were reduced to pinpoints.

I barely had time for my concern to register before shouts and screams filled my ears.

August fell to the floor, unconscious.