If Carl was a tad bit discombobulated, really, who could blame him? Everyone knew bands were supposed to die a fiery, passion-fuelled death, not just... dissolve into even closer friendship like this. You were supposed to fall out with one another, not decide you loved each other too much to go on like this. He knew it - he'd been the one to call for an end to it all, after all - but it still felt somehow... off... to end like this.
Their last gig was the complete opposite of his last gig with The Libertines. Gone was the bitterness, absent was the anger, and in their place was only a deep and abiding love for His Boys.
And a fuck load of nerves.
It was ridiculous, really, that he'd let himself get so worked up over one show. It wasn't like they weren't sure of the chords or the words or even which songs to play the way they'd been in their first gigs, but he was still for some reason every bit as nervous as he had been the first time he'd stepped up to the mic and introduced them. He should have known better by now that everything would go Just Fine, Didz had kept telling him before the show, but it was still with no little astonished relief that they took their final bow and he bid the audience farewell. Sure, he'd hopefully see at least some of them when in a few short weeks he embarked upon this solo artist journey he was planning, but this was a different sort of farewell, and he felt it imperative that he mark this turning point in the best possible manner they could, so really, Carl decided, it was completely understandable that he had worried so that it would all go tits up.
And they really had done quite a fine job of sending themselves off, if Carl did say so himself.
It was what felt like hours later but in reality was only mere moments when Anthony broke his reverie by slinging an arm across his shoulders and kissing his cheek. "Hey, man, don't think about it," he directed. "You're gonna be just fine."
Carl felt an overwhelming surge of affection for his now-former bandmate and leaned into the one-armed hug. "Yeah, I know. I will. We will," he agreed, a sudden blanket of calm settling over him at his words.
Anthony grinned at him and stole a quick kiss before turning him around and leading him off towards the loo with a quick, "Come on, this guy from some magazine - NME, probably - wants to talk to us, if you're up for it."
"In the loo?" Carl asked, amused. "That's not usually what the NME want to do with us in such a reputable location as that..."
Anthony's laughed reply was swallowed up by the crowd as they rejoined the circus that was their after party, but Carl didn't need to hear the words to know they'd been right - everything really would be Just Fine.
