The Rhythm Of Our Lonely Hearts

Chapter Thirteen: I Quit Before I Win

Chapter Thirteen: I Quit Before I Win

"Go ahead and say it, Craig..." Matt crossed his arms, bracing himself for the words he knew were coming.

Promises meant nothing, every single one of the guys had taken a chance with D.R.U.G.S. In less than a year they had managed to turn a fever dream into a reality, the response to their first album had been insane. Matt had almost lost hope of playing sold-out shows again after the painful demise of From Frist to Last, but he took one more chance. Now the blonde-haired man in front of him was about to throw it all away; he could see it in his eyes. Craig was done.

The rest of the band glanced around at each other before back at Craig who had his gaze set out the bus window. The muscles in his jaw tightened, his hands tucked into his jean pockets awkwardly.

"I'm going to back to Chiodos after the touring cycle is over..." He muttered in a quiet voice, his eyes still not leaving the window.

Matt scoffed, shocked by the bluntness of the man's statement. The audacity he had to make a decision like that without even giving them the chance to say something. It wasn't just his career that was at stake, there were four other guys attached to him.

"So, the band's over then? We're all out of a fucking job?" Adam asked, shaking his head.

"You guys are welcome to find a new singer... maybe Matt you can... do vocals or something..." Craig offered, gesturing towards the fuming guitarist.

"That's a death sentence to a band and you know it... what the hell happened, man? You're running back to the band that kicked your ass out? Giving up all the fucking success we have?" Matt continued, stepping closer to the singer.

"My heart's just not in this shit man... listen I love what we created but... I gotta do what's best for me..."

"That's fucked man..." Nick sighed, standing up and walking towards the bunks, "should probably go call my manager and tell him I need to start looking for a fucking job..."

Matt's throat started to tighten up, his worst fears coming true. The past few months had been nothing but losses. To think at the start of the year he'd been so full of hope about the future, finally happy with the direction his life was going. Then scoring the man he'd had a crush on for over a year; he'd been on cloud nine.

"I'm sorry... I really am... we've still got until next Spring... it's plenty of time for everyone to figure out what direction to go in next..." Craig said, finally gathering the courage to look the guitarist in the eyes.

He shifted his weight, scratching at his arm. Matt's eyes drifted down to the ill-fitting sweater practically hanging off his body. A hundred degrees outside and Craig was dressed like it was the dead of winter. The guitarist didn't need any more of the picture; everyone had heard the stories about Craig. Another beautiful voice in the scene lost to powder and needles.

The bus dropped as it hit another pothole, jarring the hungover passengers inside. Andy groaned, his hair a tangled mess covering his face. He rolled over onto his back, staring up at the bus's ceiling. Red solo cups, empty liquor bottles and beer cans littered the front lobby of Asking's bus. The floor was sticky with God knows what, and he was laying in it, having blacked out sometime in the early morning hours. The singer's back ached from sleeping on the hard surface, protesting as he struggled to sit up.