The Rhythm Of Our Lonely Hearts

Chapter Sixteen: The Home That Our Jealousy Built

Chapter Sixteen: The Home That Our Jealousy Built

Andy smiled up at the older man, his blue-green eyes intently focused on the TV in front of them. Saturday morning cartoons playing on it, capturing his attention in an adorable way. Matt's arm draped over him as he laid in the guitarist's lap, the simple moment nothing short of heaven.

The smell of pancakes and maple syrup still hanging in the air of their kitchen; an early morning treat courtesy of Matt. Their new home was finally together and set up just the way they wanted it to be. Just the two of them in their quiet little condo, free to enjoy their days in-between tours together. No more filth and random roommates, it was an actual place to call home.

"I love you..." Andy whispered, capturing Matt's attention away from the TV.

Matt smiled, pulling the singer upright and pressing a gentle kiss against his lips. "I love you too" he replied, the words still giving Andy butterflies.

Andy's eyes opened to the sunlight pouring in to his bunk window, the bumpy backroad having woken him up. He stared out the window at the passing road, an empty and hollow feeling filling his chest as the warmth of the idyllic dream faded away.

It was the second time he'd had it since leaving Tampa, the first time shedding tears after waking up and realizing it wasn't real. Mourning the loss of a life he never had and never would. His newfound sobriety had come with a host of emotions and mental clarity. He'd been prioritizing the wrong things for so long, slowly losing himself in the process. Conforming himself to be what everyone told him he should be and running from who he really was by drowning himself in booze and drugs.

As he suspected, his friends hadn't been interested in joining him in abstinence. Danny had tried his best to persuade him into starting another bender, even offering to buy him a bottle of his favorite whiskey. Andy wasn't sure how he managed to resist, but he did. Spending the last two nights alone in his bunk, reflecting, contemplating, and writing.

Today Matt would join the tour again, which meant today was the day they would have their "talk". Andy wasn't sure what to expect, the only thing Matt said was that it was time they have a real and civil conversation with each other. Sober, levelheaded, and mature. The whole thing sounded like a one-way ticket to relapse to him.

His thoughts kept wandering back to the hotel with Matt. Waking up in his arms, falling asleep in them after breaking down to his mom on the phone. Did it mean something or was Matt just too much of a good person to see him suffer and not do something? He told Matt that he was at rock bottom, but was he? Was that wishful thinking, believing that things couldn't get worse? He had a sinking suspicion that they could, that the bottom was yet to fall out from under him.

Andy sat up, feeling dizzy as he stood. The last time he ate was breakfast at the hotel; some vices were harder to kick than others. He searched his duffle bag, fishing out his lighter and cigarettes as the bus pulled into the venue's parking lot.

"Andy!" Danny's voice echoed through the bus lot, throwing his hands up in the air as he walked towards his friend.

Andy adjusted his sunglasses, forcing a smile and a small wave back. Despite chain-smoking almost an entire pack of cigarettes, his nerves will still on edge, head spinning with the possibilities of what would play out today. The last thing he needed was Danny offering to day drink with him.