Music Club
Author: rentluver07
Song: "How to Save a Life" by The Fray
Rating: PG for a couple of f-bombs
Characters/Parings: Chip, Jeff, Drew, Heather Anne, Greg, Jonathan, Ryan, Colin, Brad
Summary: Chip makes the most difficult decision of his life.
AN: I'd only heard this song a couple of times and hadn't really listened to the lyrics, so I read the lyrics first, then watched the music video. When I read the lyrics, I was all prepared to do a silly break-up fic, but the video is really deep and kind of disturbing, and I knew I had to do it based on that concept. If you watch the video before reading the fic, I think you'll understand what I'm trying to say better than I can say it. My muse is definitely back from her vacation. This is two complete fics in less than 12 hours. Wow! Anyway, enjoy!
Jeff and Chip had always had an extremely close relationship. More than one eyebrow had been raised in their direction when they cuddled on the tour bus or hugged on stage or any number of little gestures that made evident how close the two men were. But something had been changing in the last few years. While Chip had kept his youthful enthusiasm and energy, Jeff was starting to get burned out on the whole comedy thing. He had started spending more and more time alone, more and more time with his bottle. Chip had tried, Lord knows he had tried, to be understanding, to be supportive, to be compassionate. But every time he left Jeff’s company, he always felt horrible about himself, doubted his talents, questioned everything about his life. He was afraid his personal and professional life would suffer. He decided he had to make a clean break. It was the single most difficult decision he had ever made.
Jeff answered the door with the dull, lifeless expression Chip had come to expect. He wordlessly allowed his friend in, then went back to the couch and reclaimed his mostly empty bottle. Chip gazed down at the shell of the man he once knew and, yes, loved. He started having second thoughts about what he was about to say, but he knew that if he walked away now he would never get this out. “Jeff, we have to talk.”
Despite his reasons, Chip found himself sitting morosely at a dark, dusty bar a few hours later. He would never forget that look Jeff had given him when he had uttered those fateful words. I can’t do this anymore. Not until you get help. I’m sorry. Jeff’s lack of response had been more horrible than if he had exploded at him, denied the fact that anything was wrong, called him names. Anything would have been better than that flat, dead silence. Chip had left without another word, tears clouding his normally clear blue eyes. With each drink, he had to hold himself more firmly from going back to Jeff and apologizing, trying to work it out again.
The next morning, somebody blew an air horn in Chip’s ear. He sat up, cursing, and immediately lay flat on his back again, his head reeling. After a moment, he realized it wasn’t an air horn at all, though it sure as hell sounded loud enough to be one, but his cell phone. Who would be calling at such an ungodly hour? He blindly groped for the offending object while simultaneously cursing the sun which was so insistently intruding into his skull.
“Chip! I’ve been trying to call you for hours! Something’s happened. You need to get to the studio right away.” Drew’s normal congenial, laid back voice crackled with anxiety. The sound of the strain in his voice did more to sober him up than any coffee ever would. Without really paying attention to what he was doing, Chip grabbed the same jeans he had worn yesterday and pulled a t-shirt on as he rushed down the stairs. He didn’t know what was wrong, but it must be something big. He hoped the MGM hadn’t canceled their contract. That’s all Drew needed after finally getting another show put together. That would be an awful blow to Drew’s already fragile ego.
20 minutes later, he rushed past the security guard, following the familiar path to the theater, where he was met by the somber faces of all of his friends. All except one. Heather Anne was the first to approach him, her eyes red and puffy. She hugged him tight, but couldn’t seem to speak. Chip felt his stomach drop. “What’s wrong? Somebody tell me. What’s happened?”
After a long moment, Greg finally cleared his throat. “It’s, uh, it’s Jefferson.” The blood rushed out of Chip’s face, and he willed Greg to be silent, not to continue. But continue he did. “He ODed this morning. Drew found him.”
Chip couldn’t breathe, couldn’t speak, couldn’t think. He tore away from Heather Anne and pulled out his phone. This was a joke. They were playing some sort of sick, twisted joke. But the joke was on them. As soon as he called and told his friend what they were trying to do… “Hey, it’s Jeff! Leave a message and I’ll probably get back to you.” Chip stared at his phone as if it had betrayed him. He quickly hit the redial. “Hey, it’s Je-“ With a strangled, almost inhuman yell, he threw his phone into the front row of seats and looked around at the others frantically.
“You’re playing a prank, aren’t you? Where is he? You can come out now, Jeff! Ha ha, you got me! Very funny.” Nobody spoke for a long moment, then Jonathan broke away from the group and hesitantly approached him. Chip jerked away from him and glared venom. “Don’t touch me! Don’t come near me! This isn’t funny, you guys! Come on, Jeff, come out here this very minute!”
When nothing happened, he yelled out again and ran off-stage. He didn’t know where he was going; he just knew he had to get away from them all. He had to escape their awful, accusatory looks. Did they know this was his fault? Did they know he had driven Jeff to this? Was that why Drew was over there that morning? Because Jeff had called him and told him what a horrible person Chip was. “Fuck!” He kicked a trash can over, but even that clatter didn’t drown out the screaming in his head. He collapsed against the wall, clutching his forehead as if he could hold himself together by sheer strength. He couldn’t cry. He wouldn’t. He didn’t deserve to grieve. He hadn’t tried hard enough. He hadn’t been strong enough.
He didn’t know how long he sat that way before he heard footsteps approaching. He didn’t look up, and he willed them to keep going past him, but to no avail. He felt someone sit down next to him, and a heavy arm settled around his shoulders. After several minutes of silence, his partner finally spoke. Ryan’s rough, tobacco hardened voice spoke soothingly, gently. “This isn’t your fault.” Decades as an improver had honed his instincts, and he could read Chip like a book. He knew exactly what the younger man was thinking.
“It is. You don’t know what happened, do you? If you knew what I did…I killed him. I couldn’t save him. I couldn’t be what he needed. I failed him.” Saying it out loud was even worse than the incessant stream of accusations running through his head, and the dam he had been trying to hold back suddenly burst. He sobbed piteously, an animalistic wail erupting from deep within. Ryan didn’t say anything, just held him close, rocking him as he would a small child, kissing the top of his hair comfortingly.
Memories flooded Chip. The two of them on Drew’s show. Kidding around before The Green Screen Show. Camping in that cabin in that God forsaken cabin in Montana. Travelling across the country with the tour. Travelling around Europe, just the two of them. Chip driving Jeff home when he got so drunk he couldn’t stand up straight. Telling him to see a shrink or Chip was leaving for good. A fresh sob erupted from Chip as he berated himself all over again. If he had gone back, if he hadn’t spent all night in that bar, would he have been able to save him? Greg said it had been this morning. Maybe he would have been in time. Maybe he could have apologized. Maybe…
Chip didn’t know how long the two of them sat that way; it could have been minutes, it could have been hours. Finally, he looked up and saw his own agony reflected in Ryan’s weary face. This wasn’t his grief to bear alone. Everyone here knew and loved Jeff. They were all grieving. As much as he didn’t want to go back, some rational part of him realized that that theater was probably the best place for him to be. Among people that loved Jeff. People that loved him. Slowly, ever so slowly, the two friends walked wordlessly back to the stage, arms wrapped around one another in support.
(I just realized, this is the second time that I've killed Jeff. I don't think I've killed anyone else before. Huh...)
Song: "How to Save a Life" by The Fray
Rating: PG for a couple of f-bombs
Characters/Parings: Chip, Jeff, Drew, Heather Anne, Greg, Jonathan, Ryan, Colin, Brad
Summary: Chip makes the most difficult decision of his life.
AN: I'd only heard this song a couple of times and hadn't really listened to the lyrics, so I read the lyrics first, then watched the music video. When I read the lyrics, I was all prepared to do a silly break-up fic, but the video is really deep and kind of disturbing, and I knew I had to do it based on that concept. If you watch the video before reading the fic, I think you'll understand what I'm trying to say better than I can say it. My muse is definitely back from her vacation. This is two complete fics in less than 12 hours. Wow! Anyway, enjoy!
Jeff and Chip had always had an extremely close relationship. More than one eyebrow had been raised in their direction when they cuddled on the tour bus or hugged on stage or any number of little gestures that made evident how close the two men were. But something had been changing in the last few years. While Chip had kept his youthful enthusiasm and energy, Jeff was starting to get burned out on the whole comedy thing. He had started spending more and more time alone, more and more time with his bottle. Chip had tried, Lord knows he had tried, to be understanding, to be supportive, to be compassionate. But every time he left Jeff’s company, he always felt horrible about himself, doubted his talents, questioned everything about his life. He was afraid his personal and professional life would suffer. He decided he had to make a clean break. It was the single most difficult decision he had ever made.
Jeff answered the door with the dull, lifeless expression Chip had come to expect. He wordlessly allowed his friend in, then went back to the couch and reclaimed his mostly empty bottle. Chip gazed down at the shell of the man he once knew and, yes, loved. He started having second thoughts about what he was about to say, but he knew that if he walked away now he would never get this out. “Jeff, we have to talk.”
Despite his reasons, Chip found himself sitting morosely at a dark, dusty bar a few hours later. He would never forget that look Jeff had given him when he had uttered those fateful words. I can’t do this anymore. Not until you get help. I’m sorry. Jeff’s lack of response had been more horrible than if he had exploded at him, denied the fact that anything was wrong, called him names. Anything would have been better than that flat, dead silence. Chip had left without another word, tears clouding his normally clear blue eyes. With each drink, he had to hold himself more firmly from going back to Jeff and apologizing, trying to work it out again.
The next morning, somebody blew an air horn in Chip’s ear. He sat up, cursing, and immediately lay flat on his back again, his head reeling. After a moment, he realized it wasn’t an air horn at all, though it sure as hell sounded loud enough to be one, but his cell phone. Who would be calling at such an ungodly hour? He blindly groped for the offending object while simultaneously cursing the sun which was so insistently intruding into his skull.
“Chip! I’ve been trying to call you for hours! Something’s happened. You need to get to the studio right away.” Drew’s normal congenial, laid back voice crackled with anxiety. The sound of the strain in his voice did more to sober him up than any coffee ever would. Without really paying attention to what he was doing, Chip grabbed the same jeans he had worn yesterday and pulled a t-shirt on as he rushed down the stairs. He didn’t know what was wrong, but it must be something big. He hoped the MGM hadn’t canceled their contract. That’s all Drew needed after finally getting another show put together. That would be an awful blow to Drew’s already fragile ego.
20 minutes later, he rushed past the security guard, following the familiar path to the theater, where he was met by the somber faces of all of his friends. All except one. Heather Anne was the first to approach him, her eyes red and puffy. She hugged him tight, but couldn’t seem to speak. Chip felt his stomach drop. “What’s wrong? Somebody tell me. What’s happened?”
After a long moment, Greg finally cleared his throat. “It’s, uh, it’s Jefferson.” The blood rushed out of Chip’s face, and he willed Greg to be silent, not to continue. But continue he did. “He ODed this morning. Drew found him.”
Chip couldn’t breathe, couldn’t speak, couldn’t think. He tore away from Heather Anne and pulled out his phone. This was a joke. They were playing some sort of sick, twisted joke. But the joke was on them. As soon as he called and told his friend what they were trying to do… “Hey, it’s Jeff! Leave a message and I’ll probably get back to you.” Chip stared at his phone as if it had betrayed him. He quickly hit the redial. “Hey, it’s Je-“ With a strangled, almost inhuman yell, he threw his phone into the front row of seats and looked around at the others frantically.
“You’re playing a prank, aren’t you? Where is he? You can come out now, Jeff! Ha ha, you got me! Very funny.” Nobody spoke for a long moment, then Jonathan broke away from the group and hesitantly approached him. Chip jerked away from him and glared venom. “Don’t touch me! Don’t come near me! This isn’t funny, you guys! Come on, Jeff, come out here this very minute!”
When nothing happened, he yelled out again and ran off-stage. He didn’t know where he was going; he just knew he had to get away from them all. He had to escape their awful, accusatory looks. Did they know this was his fault? Did they know he had driven Jeff to this? Was that why Drew was over there that morning? Because Jeff had called him and told him what a horrible person Chip was. “Fuck!” He kicked a trash can over, but even that clatter didn’t drown out the screaming in his head. He collapsed against the wall, clutching his forehead as if he could hold himself together by sheer strength. He couldn’t cry. He wouldn’t. He didn’t deserve to grieve. He hadn’t tried hard enough. He hadn’t been strong enough.
He didn’t know how long he sat that way before he heard footsteps approaching. He didn’t look up, and he willed them to keep going past him, but to no avail. He felt someone sit down next to him, and a heavy arm settled around his shoulders. After several minutes of silence, his partner finally spoke. Ryan’s rough, tobacco hardened voice spoke soothingly, gently. “This isn’t your fault.” Decades as an improver had honed his instincts, and he could read Chip like a book. He knew exactly what the younger man was thinking.
“It is. You don’t know what happened, do you? If you knew what I did…I killed him. I couldn’t save him. I couldn’t be what he needed. I failed him.” Saying it out loud was even worse than the incessant stream of accusations running through his head, and the dam he had been trying to hold back suddenly burst. He sobbed piteously, an animalistic wail erupting from deep within. Ryan didn’t say anything, just held him close, rocking him as he would a small child, kissing the top of his hair comfortingly.
Memories flooded Chip. The two of them on Drew’s show. Kidding around before The Green Screen Show. Camping in that cabin in that God forsaken cabin in Montana. Travelling across the country with the tour. Travelling around Europe, just the two of them. Chip driving Jeff home when he got so drunk he couldn’t stand up straight. Telling him to see a shrink or Chip was leaving for good. A fresh sob erupted from Chip as he berated himself all over again. If he had gone back, if he hadn’t spent all night in that bar, would he have been able to save him? Greg said it had been this morning. Maybe he would have been in time. Maybe he could have apologized. Maybe…
Chip didn’t know how long the two of them sat that way; it could have been minutes, it could have been hours. Finally, he looked up and saw his own agony reflected in Ryan’s weary face. This wasn’t his grief to bear alone. Everyone here knew and loved Jeff. They were all grieving. As much as he didn’t want to go back, some rational part of him realized that that theater was probably the best place for him to be. Among people that loved Jeff. People that loved him. Slowly, ever so slowly, the two friends walked wordlessly back to the stage, arms wrapped around one another in support.
(I just realized, this is the second time that I've killed Jeff. I don't think I've killed anyone else before. Huh...)