When The Lights Go Down

Dust On The Bottle

Normally a call from FP wouldn't be much cause for concern, especially not with the tour going on, but there was something in his tone, in his words that has Fred worried. He's not sure what it is exactly, but there's something off, he just knows it, and he's proven right when he walks into the living room and finds the distraught man with a bottle of whiskey in front him.

"Woah!" Fred exclaims, practically launching himself toward the bottle. "What the hell are you thinking?" He scolds.

FP stares straight ahead. "It's not opened, I just pulled it out of the cabinet." He hasn't touched the liquor cabinet in years, it took a while to even remember where they kept the key for it. "I thought about it though, been debating it for about an hour."

"An hour? Good, that's good, self control is good." Fred decides, wiping the layer of dust from the bottle off of his fingers. "I'm glad you called."

"Felt like the right thing to do." He sounds so defeated, but Fred can't help but be proud of him.  Whiskey had always been his choice of poison and Fred was often his saviour, picking his drunk ass off the floor of whatever bar he had stumbled into that night. "What triggered you?"

"Gladys." FP answers plainly. "Caught her in bed with a guy."

Fred tries to hide the surprise in his face at the revelation, FP doesn't need the pity, he needs a friend. "Shit."

"Yeah." He scoffs, dropping his head into his hands. "I should've known, but I guess I just never expected it."

"Of course you didn't, you never could've guessed that."

"I knew our marriage wasn't perfect, and we have our differences, but to do that?" FP bites back tears as thinks on everything. "Was I really that bad of a husband?"

"No, man of course not. Did you have your moments where you weren't the best version of yourself? Yeah, but we all have those. You turned your life around, you became the best dad I've ever seen, you became an even better husband, and you became one of the strongest people I know." Fred tells him sincerely, unblinking as he lists all the great things about the man he's known for years. "This... it isn't your fault. Gladys made that choice, and while it's horrible, and it's painful, don't beat yourself up over it."

"I just can't help but wonder that maybe if I hadn't of gone down so many dark path's, she wouldn't have sought out somebody else." He says. "I'm never gonna escape my past, huh?"

"Maybe that's not such a bad thing." Fred suggests, earning a wild and confused look from his friend. "Without those mistakes you wouldn't be who you are today."

"And I wouldn't have a wife who's having an affair."

"You don't know that! You could've been completely sober your entire existence and she still could've had an affair."

FP drops his head into his hands, voice trembling as he speaks again. "I don't know how to explain this all to June."

"You'll figure it out," Fred assures him. "It's gonna be hard, and maybe a little sad, but she takes after you, she's a strong kid and she'll be okay."

"Thanks man." FP smiles softly. "I don't have to tell her right away do I? Because I really don't think I can yet."

"You take all the time you need."

FP nods before his face crumbles in distress. "Oh God the tour, we're gonna have to cancel the tour aren't we? Fred, I'm so sorry-"

Fred raises his hand, shushing him. "Don't be."

"But you've worked your ass off to get this thing going, and now it's all for nothing." FP stresses.

"There's still time to make those changes, it's not like this happened during the tour. That... might have been more difficult." Fred jokes lightly.

"You don't hate me then?"

Fred gapes. "No, of course not. And I'm here, for whatever you need."

"Could you do me a favour?" FP wonders, his voice croaky. "Hide this key, or throw it away, just keep it away from me."

Fred takes the key to the liquor cabinet and gives his friend a smile, proud that he has enough strength to ask such a thing. "Tell you what? Why don't I just get rid of everything in there so there's absolutely no temptation?"

"That's probably better. I did pick up some pretty crafty lock picking habits years ago." FP jokes lightly.

"And if you feel the desire to go buy a bottle or anything, just call me, day or night, no judgment." Fred busies himself with collecting every bottle from the cabinet, stuffing them into a bag to get rid of. Then an idea hits him. "Hey, maybe you should write how you're feeling?"

FP turns his nose up. "Like in a diary?"

"No, like in a song. Might help you to put all your feelings into music, help keep your mind off of the bottle." 

"Been a while since I wrote." He had sort of gotten lazy as his career took off, in the beginning he wrote all of his own songs, sure he had the occasional collaborator or help, but for the most part he laid all the ground work. But lately he's been accepting songs from others just so he'd have something new to put out and boost sales.

"Which is exactly why you should." Fred passes him a pen and paper. "Doesn't have to be a hit, hell it doesn't even have to be recorded, but music heals so maybe it's worth a shot."

"Yeah, I'll give it a shot." He says, albeit a little reluctant. "You heading out?"

"Unless you want me to stay. I'll stay as long as you need."

FP gives him a small smile. "I'll be okay. Just, keep your phone close, okay?"

"You got it." Fred winks before slipping out the front door, a heavy bag of temptation in his hands.

FP sighs heavily and looks down at the notepad on his lap. "Here goes nothing."