FICLETS: "Worse Things than Bailing on You" and "The Road You Have Chosen"
I made ficlets happen! They're based on photo prompts at bandom_meme:
Worse Things than Bailing on You
There aren't actual charges when it comes down to it. Pete's got a pretty rock solid alibi, given that he was live on the air and answering questions when the alleged event occurred, but he still spends a night in jail and has to get picked up by Patrick in the morning.
"Did you have a roommate?" Patrick manages not to smile, but Pete knows Patrick well enough to know when he's smiling even when he's not smiling.
"Shut up."
"Was it like the bed scene in 'Planes, Trains, and Automobiles'?"
"I'm glad you think rape charges are humorous. No, really." Pete slumps in his seat, hunkering down as far as he can go. He doesn't actually recognize the car Patrick's driving, and he doesn't want to know. Doesn't want to ask. "What did you tell everyone about the show?"
Patrick digs his phone out of his pocket and presses a couple of buttons, then hands it over to Pete. Pete sees the picture and throws the phone back at Patrick.
"Seriously? Fuck you."
"Joe wrote it."
"Fuck both of you then." Pete tugs his feet up onto the seat, wrapping his arms around his knees. They drive along in silence for a long time, none of the roads looking familiar. Or all of them looking familiar. They've been on the road enough that Pete's not sure he can tell the difference anymore. He's not sure there is a difference.
His shoulders hurt from tension, his neck aches, and it feels like there's an iron rod in his back instead of his spine. Patrick's casting sideways glances at him, but Pete's not in the mood to placate or apologize. He spends a lot of his life apologizing to Patrick. Apologizing for who he is, how he is, what he does, what he doesn't do. Patrick never asks for them, but Pete knows he's waiting, waiting for Pete to be better. Less...Pete. Everyone wishes he were less Pete. He wishes it all the time.
"It was meant to be a joke, Pete." Patrick's voice is soft, testing the waters. Pete's used to it. He thinks of it as the 'Pete's either crazy or irrational right now, no one upset him' voice. It's the voice they all use when he's lying in the back of the van with angry music so loud they can hear it through his headphones. The one they use when he's buried under a pile of hoodies, wondering how many more he'd need to suffocate himself.
"Shitty joke."
"You're right. It was in poor taste." Patrick sighs and rubs the back of his neck. Pete glances at him, and it's pretty clear Patrick didn't spend the last night sleeping either. "But it was more about them than you. It's not like any of us thought you did that. It was just that...they don't get it, you know? What they're doing. What the consequences are."
"The only consequences they're gonna see is that the show was cancelled." Pete shakes his head. "Can we stop and get some food?"
"Yeah." Patrick nods. "You want McDonalds?"
"Taco Bell. Cheaper. Grosser."
"You're going to have gas for hours."
"Yup. Remind me to hang around Joe a lot."
Patrick laughs and reaches out, ruffling Pete's hair. "Never meant to hurt you."
"I know." Pete shakes free of Patrick's touch and leans his head on the passenger window. "Doesn't mean it didn't hurt."
The Road You Have Chosen
"Just fucking admit it!"
"Fuck off." William shoves Mike back from him, putting distance between them. The bus is too small again. They're at the point where the bus is always too small, no matter how big it is. His words aren't working, nothing's working. "Just fuck off."
"Gladly." Mike turns on his heel and slams past the divider, shoving Adam out of the way as he pushes through the lounge and out of the bus. William watches where he used to be and then turns on his heel and shuts himself in the back lounge. Mike won't be gone long. He can hear the last strains of 'Rock and Roll All Night' in the distance, which means they'll be on the road soon enough.
William rubs his forehead, cursing under his breath. He knows the other three are in the front of the bus, talking in worried voices about what's going to happen now. Michael's not happy, already looking at different bands that need help as soon as the tour's over. Butcher ignores all of them in his off time, working on his own songs.
The band's falling apart before his eyes and he doesn't know how to stop it. Nothing's going right. Everything's wrong. He thought this tour might end up being the right thing - them against the world - only instead it's worked the opposite, all of them crushed by the reception they've got. The jokes fall flat, the music feels lifeless. The band feels lifeless. Or worse. Dead.
His heart hits the wall of his chest, thudding emptily. This is it. He doesn't want to think it, because this is his family, but the thought is there, born and growing a little bit at a time. He wants to hide it, shove it in a box somewhere he can forget about it, but every day, every show, every word that he and Mike fight about makes it seem inevitable.
The door to the lounge opens and Mike's standing there. William can see the same thoughts in his eyes, the same things that were set in motion when Mike moved to Los Angeles, starting the process that still hasn't finished. Mike walks inside and shuts the door, leaning on it and looking at William with dark eyes.
"It's inevitable, isn't it?"
William blinks back the sudden pressure of hot tears. "Yeah."
"It always was."
"Yeah." He nods and looks up at the ceiling. The heat and the pressure don't subside at all, so he looks back at Mike. "I don't want it to be like this. Not now. Not yet. Not...not with this as the last thing of...of everything we had."
Mike snorts a rough laugh, his voice thicker than normal. "Really?"
"Oh, shut up." William laughs too and rubs his eye with the ball of his hand. "Not like this, okay?"
"Okay." Mike sighs and comes over and sits next to him. Even when they're working well, they don't have an easy physicality. Mike tends to repel William's instinctive clinging unless they're back to back on stage. He reaches over and takes William's hand, squeezing it. "Not like this. But...but eventually." He squeezes again. "Soon."
William's careful not to move, wanting to hang onto Mike's grip as long as he can. He realizes the irony of it and nods, letting go. "Soon."
Worse Things than Bailing on You
There aren't actual charges when it comes down to it. Pete's got a pretty rock solid alibi, given that he was live on the air and answering questions when the alleged event occurred, but he still spends a night in jail and has to get picked up by Patrick in the morning.
"Did you have a roommate?" Patrick manages not to smile, but Pete knows Patrick well enough to know when he's smiling even when he's not smiling.
"Shut up."
"Was it like the bed scene in 'Planes, Trains, and Automobiles'?"
"I'm glad you think rape charges are humorous. No, really." Pete slumps in his seat, hunkering down as far as he can go. He doesn't actually recognize the car Patrick's driving, and he doesn't want to know. Doesn't want to ask. "What did you tell everyone about the show?"
Patrick digs his phone out of his pocket and presses a couple of buttons, then hands it over to Pete. Pete sees the picture and throws the phone back at Patrick.
"Seriously? Fuck you."
"Joe wrote it."
"Fuck both of you then." Pete tugs his feet up onto the seat, wrapping his arms around his knees. They drive along in silence for a long time, none of the roads looking familiar. Or all of them looking familiar. They've been on the road enough that Pete's not sure he can tell the difference anymore. He's not sure there is a difference.
His shoulders hurt from tension, his neck aches, and it feels like there's an iron rod in his back instead of his spine. Patrick's casting sideways glances at him, but Pete's not in the mood to placate or apologize. He spends a lot of his life apologizing to Patrick. Apologizing for who he is, how he is, what he does, what he doesn't do. Patrick never asks for them, but Pete knows he's waiting, waiting for Pete to be better. Less...Pete. Everyone wishes he were less Pete. He wishes it all the time.
"It was meant to be a joke, Pete." Patrick's voice is soft, testing the waters. Pete's used to it. He thinks of it as the 'Pete's either crazy or irrational right now, no one upset him' voice. It's the voice they all use when he's lying in the back of the van with angry music so loud they can hear it through his headphones. The one they use when he's buried under a pile of hoodies, wondering how many more he'd need to suffocate himself.
"Shitty joke."
"You're right. It was in poor taste." Patrick sighs and rubs the back of his neck. Pete glances at him, and it's pretty clear Patrick didn't spend the last night sleeping either. "But it was more about them than you. It's not like any of us thought you did that. It was just that...they don't get it, you know? What they're doing. What the consequences are."
"The only consequences they're gonna see is that the show was cancelled." Pete shakes his head. "Can we stop and get some food?"
"Yeah." Patrick nods. "You want McDonalds?"
"Taco Bell. Cheaper. Grosser."
"You're going to have gas for hours."
"Yup. Remind me to hang around Joe a lot."
Patrick laughs and reaches out, ruffling Pete's hair. "Never meant to hurt you."
"I know." Pete shakes free of Patrick's touch and leans his head on the passenger window. "Doesn't mean it didn't hurt."
The Road You Have Chosen
"Just fucking admit it!"
"Fuck off." William shoves Mike back from him, putting distance between them. The bus is too small again. They're at the point where the bus is always too small, no matter how big it is. His words aren't working, nothing's working. "Just fuck off."
"Gladly." Mike turns on his heel and slams past the divider, shoving Adam out of the way as he pushes through the lounge and out of the bus. William watches where he used to be and then turns on his heel and shuts himself in the back lounge. Mike won't be gone long. He can hear the last strains of 'Rock and Roll All Night' in the distance, which means they'll be on the road soon enough.
William rubs his forehead, cursing under his breath. He knows the other three are in the front of the bus, talking in worried voices about what's going to happen now. Michael's not happy, already looking at different bands that need help as soon as the tour's over. Butcher ignores all of them in his off time, working on his own songs.
The band's falling apart before his eyes and he doesn't know how to stop it. Nothing's going right. Everything's wrong. He thought this tour might end up being the right thing - them against the world - only instead it's worked the opposite, all of them crushed by the reception they've got. The jokes fall flat, the music feels lifeless. The band feels lifeless. Or worse. Dead.
His heart hits the wall of his chest, thudding emptily. This is it. He doesn't want to think it, because this is his family, but the thought is there, born and growing a little bit at a time. He wants to hide it, shove it in a box somewhere he can forget about it, but every day, every show, every word that he and Mike fight about makes it seem inevitable.
The door to the lounge opens and Mike's standing there. William can see the same thoughts in his eyes, the same things that were set in motion when Mike moved to Los Angeles, starting the process that still hasn't finished. Mike walks inside and shuts the door, leaning on it and looking at William with dark eyes.
"It's inevitable, isn't it?"
William blinks back the sudden pressure of hot tears. "Yeah."
"It always was."
"Yeah." He nods and looks up at the ceiling. The heat and the pressure don't subside at all, so he looks back at Mike. "I don't want it to be like this. Not now. Not yet. Not...not with this as the last thing of...of everything we had."
Mike snorts a rough laugh, his voice thicker than normal. "Really?"
"Oh, shut up." William laughs too and rubs his eye with the ball of his hand. "Not like this, okay?"
"Okay." Mike sighs and comes over and sits next to him. Even when they're working well, they don't have an easy physicality. Mike tends to repel William's instinctive clinging unless they're back to back on stage. He reaches over and takes William's hand, squeezing it. "Not like this. But...but eventually." He squeezes again. "Soon."
William's careful not to move, wanting to hang onto Mike's grip as long as he can. He realizes the irony of it and nods, letting go. "Soon."