Wha-if rockstars went to boarding school

59: aftermath

Tommy

I sit down on the bed, tears threatening to spill out of my face at any given moment. My hands are shaking and my heart is jumping out of my chest. I can't breathe, I'm not even sure of what just happened. My body is buzzing with the leftover traces of anger, and I'm literally sweating from the encounter.

I can't believe that just happened.

I didn't want to fight with Nikki. This band performance was really important though, and I really wanted him to be there. The drum line was gonna get a solo, and I had asked him to be there because this was one of the biggest performances of my entire life. I had really just wanted him to show up. I slipped up by yelling at him though, because I know  he hates being yelled at. I just got so pissy about it for no damn reason.

"Fuck dude..."  I mumble, running my hands through my hair.

I'm actually  still pretty mad. Nikki really shouldn't have blown me off like that, and I have every fucking right to be mad. He just thinks that he can do all the drugs he wants and I won't care, and I won't get upset. I'm just supposed to act like all this is fucking fine. He wants me to not care, he wants me to just let him waste away with fucking heroin.

Maybe, Maybe I should just give him what he wants.

I stomp across the room and shove my hands into my pockets, looking for a lighter and my blunt. I pull everything out of my hoodie and find one, and light up to calm down. I plop into my chair and unlock my phone, scrolling through Tik Tok as i puff, trying to forget about  everything that just happened.

The blunt doesn't even help. My brain keeps rapid cycling through everything that could happen to Nikki, strung out, injured, and alone.

Maybe I should go and look for him, but does he even deserve it? He broke my heart. I can't deny the fact that it doesn't seem like he cares about me. Why should I care about him? He can sleep on the streets for all I care. Might find some fucking hole to crawl into and shoot up in. This is one of the most important performances of my entire life, we worked for months on it, and he just blows it off.

I toss my backpack across the room and yank my covers off the bed for no real reason other than I'm angry and it feels good to be destructive. I toss the table in the corner of the  room over as well while I'm at it, and throw the pillows around. I full on slam my practice pad into the door, tossing my drumsticks at the window and ripping the sheets off the bed as well.

I finally let myself cry, as if I could stop it anyways. My knees start to wobble and I let myself sit on the ground, this is all too damn much.

"Tommy?" I hear a voice ask from the door.

I look up and see Sharon, standing in the doorway with a concerned look on her face. I shrug, and wipe my tears quickly so she won't see me cry like this. My heart is still pounding, but I feel a bit less shaky as I stand up and walk over to her, probably thinking that I owe her an explanation. And, let's be honest, I do.

"What's wrong? Where's Nikki?" She asks, gently rubbing my back because I'm still sniffling.

"We had a f-fight..." I mumble, sniffing and wiping my bangs from my face.

"Over what? I'm sure it can't be that bad!"

"Well he blew off our huge Marching Band performance so that he could get high, and I blew up about it."

"OH FOR FUCKS SAKE!"

"What?"

"Tommy you really aren't very bright."

"WHAT THE FUCK DID I DO?!"

"Tommy, he's a heroin addict, do you think he blew it off to purposely not go, to purposely anger you?"

"Yes."

"TOMMY!"

"fine...no..."

"He's an addict, that means he can't stop."

"Well I still have the right to be mad about it dude."

"Yes, but not this fucking mad, for fucks sake go call him." She rolls her eyes and gives me a shove back into the room.

I  nod and pick up my phone, seeing Nikkis contact and clicking on Facetime audio. It goes to voicemail. I try it again, and he sends it to voicemail. I sat my phone down and put my head in my hands, before picking up and calling him again. Voicemail. Then, I shoot him a text. 'Nikki, I'm sorry,  come the fuck home dude, This fight's stupid.'

The three dots  pop up that signify he's texting. Then they disappear. Then they show up again and they finally stop. 

"God, he's probably super mad." I sigh, pulling out a beer can from under my bed.

"I would be. But, it was a small fight, he'll get over it." Sharon consoles, stepping over all the mess I just made and sitting on my bed beside me.

"I hope, You going out with Ozzy?" I ask, offering her a beer.

She pushes it away gently and nods. "Yes, My uncle is taking us to see a movie."

"You have  American family?"

"Yeah, my uncle and aunt moved here not too long ago."

"Oh." My phone beeps, and I look at it.

Nikki finally texted back. 'Fuck off Tommy.' is all it says.