The Rhythm Of Our Lonely Hearts

Chapter Twenty-Three: The Villain I'm Becoming

Chapter Twenty-Three: The Villain I'm Becoming

A pair of black vans came in and out of focus as Andy's eyes opened, his vision blurry. His head felt like an ax had been taken to it, the splitting headache behind his eyes making him nauseous. All the muscles in his body throbbed, devoid of all strength as he tried to push himself up to no avail, collapsing back down onto the mattress. It smelled like whiskey, stomach acid, and piss. He wasn't dead. A deep-seated sense of embarrassment set in as he started to piece together what had happened; getting so blackout drunk he passed out and pissed himself? And he thought rock bottom had been waking up on the floor of Asking's bus with vomit in his hair; nope, this was it. Four walls and thirty days away from being just another homeless drunk on Skid Row; he'd fit right in.

"Get up," Matt ordered, sternly. "You were supposed to be checked in two hours ago."

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. In his spiral, he'd forgotten that Matt was going to pick him up to take him to the rehab clinic. All he remembered from the previous night was Rob handing him and Jake the eviction notice; how it ended up with him going into a complete mental breakdown. How was he supposed to fuck off to rehab for two weeks when he'd be homeless in a month? He'd grabbed the first bottle of liquor he could find and downed the entire thing. The last thing he remembered was hoping he wouldn't wake up.

"Get up, Andy!" Matt yelled when the singer didn't respond, his voice echoing off the walls.

Matt's heart was racing wildly in his chest, a thousand emotions all hitting him at once. He'd almost beat down the door when Andy didn't respond to his phone calls; only getting in when he managed to reach Jake. He'd been in a meeting with some guitar reps all morning, swinging by to let Matt in when he said he hadn't heard from Andy. He hadn't said much, only that he needed to talk to Andy about something. Matt wondered if this was the "something" Jake was referring to.

He was stunned when he found the singer passed out in his room; he would have thought he was dead if he hadn't heard the man groan when he forced the door open. The empty bottle of liquor on the floor told him exactly why his calls had gone unanswered. It was soul-crushing to see the state he was in; all the hope that Matt allowed himself was shattered.

"Stop..." Andy choked out, his voice hoarse and ragged.

His head spun as he pushed himself up, not able to look the guitarist in the face. Matt didn't need to say the words; it was over. He knew it was over. All the stitches he'd so carefully sewn into the fabric of their relationship ripped open in one night of desperation. He hadn't crawled back to his vices; he ran to them. He wasn't sure if his night of binge drinking counted as a suicide attempt, all he knew was that his mind had never gotten so dark before. It scared him to think about how close he might have come to getting his wish. It would have been Matt. That's who would have found him... He felt like he was going to throw up.

"Get the fuck up right now!" Matt boomed. He could feel tears pricking at his eyes; while he had been inking his future into place this was what Andy had been up to?

He should have known something was wrong when Andy didn't call or text him goodnight, but he figured that he'd turned in early for the night. A mix of rage, regret, and fear flowed through him. He'd made peace with his feelings for the singer, no longer resisting what he'd known all along. He wasn't just simply in love with him. He was hopelessly, and unconditionally in love with Andy. So, where did that leave them now?