Chronicles Ch. 15: When a Man Falls into a Toilet, Listen to his Advice. Trust me.
Life tends to be lame sometimes. Like now, it’s pretty lame right now.
“It wasn’t my fault this time,” was the first thing Andrew said when we entered our hotel room. I nodded silently, sitting at the edge of my bed and inching my way up to the headboard to rest my back on it.
Andrew noticed my sullen-ness. He sat down beside me. “You OK?”
“Just peachy...” I mumbled.
He held out my phone. I looked at Andrew. He was smiling at me encouragingly. “Call him, idiot!” Grinned Andy. I smiled. He was awesome. I took my phone and quickly called Michael, only to find that there was absolutely no service in the room.
“You’re kidding,” I frowned.
“What?” Andy asked.
I tossed my phone to the end of my bed in frustration. “No service...” I grumbled.
Immediately, Andy picked up my phone and started walking around the room and holding it up, desperately trying to get service. I laughed. He looked completely idiotic. “Andy, you don’t actually have to do that!”
“Yes I do!” Andrew shouted back from the bathroom. “OOH! OOH! Aw...OOH WAIT!” Then there was a crash, and Andy ran out jumping around and waving his hand. “Ew! Ew! Ew! Ew!”
“What?”
“I tripped and my hand landed in the toilet!” He pouted.
I chuckled. Well, if I had to choose someone to be stuck away from my boyfriend with, it would defs be this guy. Andy was pretty awesome.
When Andy ran back to the bathroom to sanitize his hand, I sighed and looked at the calendar on my phone. The bright side about this was that the tour was almost over. As much as I loved this tour, I had a feeling I’d be happy when it ended. After all, when it did, there would be no more of this. Sure this was only the first night of the separate-floors-with-no-possible-way-to-sneak-out, but it was also one of the last. Heck, there was only a week or so of tour left, and only a week or so until I would be free. Finally.
And on top of that, not every hotel room would have no cell service...I hoped.
Andy walked back into the room, looking shaken-up. I would be, too, if I had just fallen into a hotel toilet. He sat down on his bed and turned on the TV. “So,” he sighed, resting his un-toilet-fallen hand behind his head. “You don’t seem too sad.”
I shrugged, twiddling my thumbs. “Well, I mean, there’s not much time left of this. Soon we’ll be on our own, and soon we’ll be happy.”
Saying that made me almost warp to the future.
“ALEXANDER NOYES! YOU GET BACK HERE! WHO GAVE YOU THE RIGHT TO STEAL MY PANTS?! I CERTAINLY DIDN’T!”
I saw myself running around the Honor Society apartment in LA with a pair of (tailored) jeans. Michael was chasing after me in his underwear.
“Whoa!” Andy yelped when he walked into the room. “Er well I’ll leave...”
At that moment, Michael jumped on my back. “YOU GIVE ME MY PANTS, ALEX!!”
“Never!” I laughed. I threw the pants across the room, but what I didn’t know was that the window was open. Out flew Michael’s pants.
Michael shot me a death stare. “Oh you...” He snarled. Michael and I dashed to the window, Andy and Jason following close behind.
“Do you see them?”
“No...no...YES!...wait...no.”
“There they are!” Jason exclaimed, pointing out the window. There were Michael’s jeans, on top of somebody else’s car.
“Who’s car is that?” Andrew asked cautiously.
I gulped. “Well...you see...you guys know that crazy old lady three doors down from us that always steals my Starbucks and hits me with her purse?”
Everybody sighed, “Oh God...”
It’s true. Mrs. Jenkens DOES steal my Starbucks and hit me with her purse. Sometimes she spits on me too. It’s nasty, and it only happens to me. I don’t know what I did, heck I barely even talk to her. Probably because she steals my Starbucks and hits me with her purse!
“You’re not happy now?” Andrew inquired. “Well, I mean, obviously not since you’re not with him...but, when you are...aren’t you happy?”
In a word, thrilled.
“Uh,” I sighed, relaxing back on my bed as a Mets game played on the TV. There really was no reason to watch the game. They were playing the Pirates, who, frankly, sucked. Sorry Pittsburgh, you can have hockey and you can have football but baseball? Not happening. To prove how suckish the Pirates are, the score was 9-nothing, Mets. “I’m happy,” I answered to Andy. “Well sort of. I mean I always feel restricted. Ned sort of infected us with this feeling of being held back by chains or something.”
Andrew obviously felt sympathy for me, because he got up from his bed, moved over to mine, and cradled me in his arms. How did he know that I was sad? I was trying my best to hide it...
Since he now knew that I was sad, I allowed a tear to roll down my cheek as I clutched Andy’s t-shirt. Andrew held me closer and the tear soaked into his shirt. “I’m here for you,” He said quietly, his deep voice raspy. “We’re all here for you. We’re all cheering for you.”
I broke down.
“I love him...” I whispered. “I miss him...”
“He loves you too,” Andrew whispered back. “And it’s just one night. Just one night and you’ll see him again. Just one night and you’ll be away from the loser you’re forced to stay with who falls into toilets and makes you watch the Mets game, even though we both know that they’re gonna kill.”
I looked up at Andy. “Andrew?” I asked him quietly.
“Hm?”
I returned to his shirt. “We...we’re all kind of gay for each other, aren’t we?”
Andrew didn’t answer at first. He sighed. “Yeah,” he said. “I guess we kind of are, huh? But really...all that means is that we love each other...er, well, what I mean is that...we care about each other. We don’t want to see each other hurt, we don’t want to see each other crying, we don’t want to be mad. We just want to have fun and we want to be just four friends in a band who just happen to have hit it big time.”
“But Ned’s stopping that...” I mumbled into his chest. “He...he said we should stop making The Gentlemen’s Club...and he said...that...that me and Mike shouldn’t...then we tried and he...Andy is he trying to mold us into typical pop stars?”
Andy sighed and rubbed his thumb over my knuckles soothingly. “Yeah...he is,” he told me. “But it’s never gonna work, ‘cause you know and I know and Jay knows and Mike knows and even Kat knows that we can’t be boxed in. We’re not Play-Doh. They can’t just press us into pop star molds and expect us to come out as grinning, sparkling, perfect little boys. We’re misfits. We’re the hard and dried-up Play-Doh that’s a bunch of different colors. We can’t be played with, we can’t be what THEY want, we can only be us. We can only be who WE are. They’ll give up on us eventually when they find out that we can’t be what they want us to be.”
“But wouldn’t that mean...” I said, accepting his touch. “That...that we’d be done? That this band’s fame would be a thing of the past?”
Andy nodded. “Yeah, unfortunately, but it’s better to be not famous and be yourself than be famous and forced to be someone else.”
Well said for a guy who fell into a toilet.
“Do you want to go to sleep?” Andrew inquired. “The night’ll go faster that way.”
I nodded. “Yeah. G’night Anderz...”
“G’night.” He whispered back. Half-asleep, I felt him get up and heard him walk over to his bed, but then I thought I heard him get up again. I also thought that I felt a kiss pressed on my forehead.
Actually, I DID feel that.
“Love you, Alex,” Andrew whispered to me. “You’ll be back with your Michael soon. I promise.”
Then he was back in his bed.
With the TV’s blue-ish glow on my face, I fell asleep hoping that Andy was right. About everything.
“It wasn’t my fault this time,” was the first thing Andrew said when we entered our hotel room. I nodded silently, sitting at the edge of my bed and inching my way up to the headboard to rest my back on it.
Andrew noticed my sullen-ness. He sat down beside me. “You OK?”
“Just peachy...” I mumbled.
He held out my phone. I looked at Andrew. He was smiling at me encouragingly. “Call him, idiot!” Grinned Andy. I smiled. He was awesome. I took my phone and quickly called Michael, only to find that there was absolutely no service in the room.
“You’re kidding,” I frowned.
“What?” Andy asked.
I tossed my phone to the end of my bed in frustration. “No service...” I grumbled.
Immediately, Andy picked up my phone and started walking around the room and holding it up, desperately trying to get service. I laughed. He looked completely idiotic. “Andy, you don’t actually have to do that!”
“Yes I do!” Andrew shouted back from the bathroom. “OOH! OOH! Aw...OOH WAIT!” Then there was a crash, and Andy ran out jumping around and waving his hand. “Ew! Ew! Ew! Ew!”
“What?”
“I tripped and my hand landed in the toilet!” He pouted.
I chuckled. Well, if I had to choose someone to be stuck away from my boyfriend with, it would defs be this guy. Andy was pretty awesome.
When Andy ran back to the bathroom to sanitize his hand, I sighed and looked at the calendar on my phone. The bright side about this was that the tour was almost over. As much as I loved this tour, I had a feeling I’d be happy when it ended. After all, when it did, there would be no more of this. Sure this was only the first night of the separate-floors-with-no-possible-way-to-sneak-out, but it was also one of the last. Heck, there was only a week or so of tour left, and only a week or so until I would be free. Finally.
And on top of that, not every hotel room would have no cell service...I hoped.
Andy walked back into the room, looking shaken-up. I would be, too, if I had just fallen into a hotel toilet. He sat down on his bed and turned on the TV. “So,” he sighed, resting his un-toilet-fallen hand behind his head. “You don’t seem too sad.”
I shrugged, twiddling my thumbs. “Well, I mean, there’s not much time left of this. Soon we’ll be on our own, and soon we’ll be happy.”
Saying that made me almost warp to the future.
“ALEXANDER NOYES! YOU GET BACK HERE! WHO GAVE YOU THE RIGHT TO STEAL MY PANTS?! I CERTAINLY DIDN’T!”
I saw myself running around the Honor Society apartment in LA with a pair of (tailored) jeans. Michael was chasing after me in his underwear.
“Whoa!” Andy yelped when he walked into the room. “Er well I’ll leave...”
At that moment, Michael jumped on my back. “YOU GIVE ME MY PANTS, ALEX!!”
“Never!” I laughed. I threw the pants across the room, but what I didn’t know was that the window was open. Out flew Michael’s pants.
Michael shot me a death stare. “Oh you...” He snarled. Michael and I dashed to the window, Andy and Jason following close behind.
“Do you see them?”
“No...no...YES!...wait...no.”
“There they are!” Jason exclaimed, pointing out the window. There were Michael’s jeans, on top of somebody else’s car.
“Who’s car is that?” Andrew asked cautiously.
I gulped. “Well...you see...you guys know that crazy old lady three doors down from us that always steals my Starbucks and hits me with her purse?”
Everybody sighed, “Oh God...”
It’s true. Mrs. Jenkens DOES steal my Starbucks and hit me with her purse. Sometimes she spits on me too. It’s nasty, and it only happens to me. I don’t know what I did, heck I barely even talk to her. Probably because she steals my Starbucks and hits me with her purse!
“You’re not happy now?” Andrew inquired. “Well, I mean, obviously not since you’re not with him...but, when you are...aren’t you happy?”
In a word, thrilled.
“Uh,” I sighed, relaxing back on my bed as a Mets game played on the TV. There really was no reason to watch the game. They were playing the Pirates, who, frankly, sucked. Sorry Pittsburgh, you can have hockey and you can have football but baseball? Not happening. To prove how suckish the Pirates are, the score was 9-nothing, Mets. “I’m happy,” I answered to Andy. “Well sort of. I mean I always feel restricted. Ned sort of infected us with this feeling of being held back by chains or something.”
Andrew obviously felt sympathy for me, because he got up from his bed, moved over to mine, and cradled me in his arms. How did he know that I was sad? I was trying my best to hide it...
Since he now knew that I was sad, I allowed a tear to roll down my cheek as I clutched Andy’s t-shirt. Andrew held me closer and the tear soaked into his shirt. “I’m here for you,” He said quietly, his deep voice raspy. “We’re all here for you. We’re all cheering for you.”
I broke down.
“I love him...” I whispered. “I miss him...”
“He loves you too,” Andrew whispered back. “And it’s just one night. Just one night and you’ll see him again. Just one night and you’ll be away from the loser you’re forced to stay with who falls into toilets and makes you watch the Mets game, even though we both know that they’re gonna kill.”
I looked up at Andy. “Andrew?” I asked him quietly.
“Hm?”
I returned to his shirt. “We...we’re all kind of gay for each other, aren’t we?”
Andrew didn’t answer at first. He sighed. “Yeah,” he said. “I guess we kind of are, huh? But really...all that means is that we love each other...er, well, what I mean is that...we care about each other. We don’t want to see each other hurt, we don’t want to see each other crying, we don’t want to be mad. We just want to have fun and we want to be just four friends in a band who just happen to have hit it big time.”
“But Ned’s stopping that...” I mumbled into his chest. “He...he said we should stop making The Gentlemen’s Club...and he said...that...that me and Mike shouldn’t...then we tried and he...Andy is he trying to mold us into typical pop stars?”
Andy sighed and rubbed his thumb over my knuckles soothingly. “Yeah...he is,” he told me. “But it’s never gonna work, ‘cause you know and I know and Jay knows and Mike knows and even Kat knows that we can’t be boxed in. We’re not Play-Doh. They can’t just press us into pop star molds and expect us to come out as grinning, sparkling, perfect little boys. We’re misfits. We’re the hard and dried-up Play-Doh that’s a bunch of different colors. We can’t be played with, we can’t be what THEY want, we can only be us. We can only be who WE are. They’ll give up on us eventually when they find out that we can’t be what they want us to be.”
“But wouldn’t that mean...” I said, accepting his touch. “That...that we’d be done? That this band’s fame would be a thing of the past?”
Andy nodded. “Yeah, unfortunately, but it’s better to be not famous and be yourself than be famous and forced to be someone else.”
Well said for a guy who fell into a toilet.
“Do you want to go to sleep?” Andrew inquired. “The night’ll go faster that way.”
I nodded. “Yeah. G’night Anderz...”
“G’night.” He whispered back. Half-asleep, I felt him get up and heard him walk over to his bed, but then I thought I heard him get up again. I also thought that I felt a kiss pressed on my forehead.
Actually, I DID feel that.
“Love you, Alex,” Andrew whispered to me. “You’ll be back with your Michael soon. I promise.”
Then he was back in his bed.
With the TV’s blue-ish glow on my face, I fell asleep hoping that Andy was right. About everything.