The Rhythm Of Our Lonely Hearts

Chapter Nine: Not the American Average

Chapter Nine: Not the American Average

Andy adjusted his sunglasses, trying his best to ignore the pain radiating from inside his skull. A hospital bracelet still wrapped around his wrist from the day before. The doctor at the hospital had warned him against starting the tour for at least another week, but in typical Andy fashion, he hadn't taken the man's advice. His ribs were still sore and moving the wrong way still sent a jolt through his side. If he was careful, he could make it through the band's thirty-minute set. What he hadn't anticipated was just how miserable it would be waking up before noon, walking around in the Summer heat all day, and nursing three broken ribs at the same time.

The first day hadn't been too bad, they had a later set and he was riding the high of being back on tour. The second day had been harder, hotter, and featured a lovely hangover courtesy of the BBQ from the night before. Now on his third day, he was dying; he'd spent the previous night partying with Danny and the Asking crew. Anything to distract himself from the fact that Matt hadn't said a word to him since the last night at the hotel. He had dropped by the first day to watch the singer's set but didn't stick around; leaving before Andy had a chance to say anything to him.

It was his own fault for making things awkward. His whiskey drunk brain convinced him that he could change Matt's mind with one night of passion. Perhaps it was a bit of self-sabotage on his part, he knew he couldn't handle going back to being friends only. So, he made it impossible for that to happen.

"Sorry everyone, that's all the time they have today," John announced much to the displeasure of the line of fans still waiting to have things signed.

Andy didn't hesitate, waving to the fans before ducking out from under the tent and making his way towards bus land. The pounding in his head was growing worse with each step. He hadn't appreciated their 11 AM set time, no doubt punishment for destroying the stage the day before. The singer had barely enough time to put his warpaint on, having spent most of the morning dry heaving in the bathroom.

The A/C on the bus was a welcome change compared to the sauna that was the bus lot. Andy wiped the sweat from his brow, grabbing a bottle of white wine from the fridge up front and making his way back to the bunks. He knew he was only shooting himself in the foot by trying to live off alcohol, cigarettes, and the occasional slice of pizza, especially on this tour. But the last thing on his mind was his health.

Matt lifted a cigarette to his lips, inhaling deeply. He leaned back against the bus, letting the nicotine calm his brain. Avoiding Andy had been harder than he thought it would be. Whether it was in the press tent, catering, or backstage, he had to make an effort to avoid being seen. A difficult task considering his height. The guitarist couldn't even find solace on stage; looking out into a sea of kids wearing warpaint and Black Veil shirts made it hard to forget the empty feeling in his heart.

Any healing the older man had tried to do in preparation for tour had been destroyed by one night of bad judgment. Andy's plan had almost worked, almost making him want to try again. His plan to slip out of the hotel room before Andy woke up had failed. While he had woken up before the singer, he couldn't tear himself away from the sleeping man. Resorting instead to laying there for the better part of an hour with Andy curled up to his side, having to convince himself not to cave. Then there was the awkward departure of 'goodbye' but also, 'not goodbye because I'll see you every day for the next three months'.