ɪ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ʙᴇʟɪᴇᴠᴇ ɪɴ ɢʜᴏsᴛs

Chapter One / Ten Minutes

Ten minutes. Glam said he'd be gone for ten minutes. Ches was still felt terribly sick from the hangover and he had already taken the last of the aspirin. Glam told him he'd go out to get more. He said it'd only take ten minutes. But those ten minutes turned into far longer. He had gotten distracted on his way to the small run down convenience store, getting completely caught up with the song he head on the radio. The band.. they were on the radio. How was that possible? Was the twisted sister gig really that good? There song, Glam and Ches's song, on the radio! How amazing. Ten minutes turned to thirty. Thirty turned to forty by the time Glam got back. He didn't mean to take so long, it was just amazing such a simple song, about a stupid friendship really had made it to the radio. Funny how it was about a two people that weren't even there to sing it. That's just the way life is sometimes though. Finally Glam had made it back to the hotel room. Guilt laced him for making Ches wait so long for the pain killers, but it is what it is.

The blonde would open the door. "Ches I've got the aspirin, sorry I took so long-" There was no response. Just a brunette laying on the floor face down, the color completely drained from his face. By the time the paramedics had arrived it was already too late. It was too late far too long ago actually. If Glam would've only taken ten minutes, Ches would've still been alive. He wouldn't have binged on his addiction while Glam was away, he would still be sitting on the edge of his bed, trying to jot down notes for a song. But Glam didn't take ten minutes. He is the reason why his best friend, is now laying in a casket.

The funeral was morbid. Ches didn't look like Ches at all. He was pale, and all the months of drugs weighed in the creases of his face. Glam was the last one in the room when they closed the casket. He didn't cry. Not a single tear would fall from his eyes. He could only stare. Stare as his friend laid there lifeless. This was all his fault. It was always going to be all his fault. This was something that was going to haunt him for the rest of his life. More than his trauma ever would. 'You. Are the reason. He is dead. You and only you.' That was the only thought that crossed Glam's brain. Ches could still be here, but of course Glam had to fuck that up too, like he does everything else.

Memories flooded his brain. The first time they met. That small boy with the green jacket teasing him by the dumpster. The first time he got a taste of real music, how empowered he felt. The first time he played guitar. The first concert. The late nights. The last night of being Sebastian. Walking to Ches's home in the rain. The crying. The comforting. Living with him. The band starting to go somewhere. Their first important gig. All the jokes they'd crack with each other. Ches's lazy smile. His gorgeous eyes. The gap in between all of his teeth. The way he'd say simple things that sent Glams heart pounding out of his chest. It's all over. This is really it. The casket was closed, and the funeral was over.

The first three weeks were hard. Glam was to say the least depressed. It was his fault his best friend was gone and there was nothing he could do to bring him back. The hotel room was now full, and cold. The small wood table that once used to be filled random quickly jotted down songs that were on envelopes or magazines, now sit empty. There was no longer any music to fill the air. No guitar to be heard being strummed away at during the evenings. No more snoring late at night. The fresh smell of alcohol that always bit you the moment you'd walk through the doorway of the small room was gone. The paint peeling around the walls was now nothing to look at and make a game out of, it was just peeled paint. No dirty clothes or liquor bottles littered the dirty hardwood floors anymore. Just re-packed bags. Bags as if somebody had been planning to leave. Somebody did leave. Just not the type of leave that included comfort. The comfort of knowing they'd be back home soon. The type of comfort that made you know you'd be able to laugh with them later that night about something that happened to them while they were gone. That comfort that rests in your soul when you are in their arms after they just got home. No, this was a different type of gone. No warm feelings and a hug. Just gone.

Bobby and Lordi decided to put the band on pause, stay back with Glam, help him get on his feet. After all he didn't have anybody else. Ches was all he ever had. It was always 'Us against the world.' Now it was just 'Glam against the world.' Glam refused to speak after the funeral, you were lucky if you could get the blonde to nod his head. He refused to eat. He wouldn't sleep. He was practically dissociated from everything. He would sit on the edge of the hotel bed staring at the spot on the floor where  Ches had laid. He would sit there for hours just staring. The room was so cold now. So empty. He could still see his body laying there. Even if the body had been gone for almost a week. Long gone and six feet under. It was still there in Glam's head. He was still dead on the floor. His face pale. Eyes closed. Needle laid down next to him. Dead, but slowly starting to get up from the floor. Dead but walking torwards Glam. Dead but that lazy grin revealing a mouth full of decayed teeth while placing a decomposing hand on the blondes shoulder. "Why do you look so frightened Glam?"

"Glam? Are you still with me? Your spacing out again, we were about to have a serious conversation, remember?"

Glam shuddered and looked over to his fellow band mate. Right, Lordi had said he wanted to talk. Glam must've started staring off again. It had become a common thing lately. He nodded after a minute.

"Good.. Dude listen, are you okay? Obviously not, but like I mean, are you okay, okay? I'm worried about you Glam. Really worried. Your getting skinnier by the day, and I'm starting to get creeped out by how soulless you look. Listen, it's okay to grieve, that is perfectly normal, but what your doing, is not okay. You need to get it together before you turn into a pile of bones right next to Ches.."

Glam cringed. For multiple reasons. One, the mention of Ches's name. Two, the comment on how blatantly horrible Glam had started to get, and three the show of genuine concern. Glam didn't want to concern anybody but he couldn't help this. He just couldn't. His best friend was dead and it was all his fault. Who the actual fuck goes out claiming they'll only take ten minutes but comes back forty minutes later. Ches could still be alive if he didn't fucking wander about aimlessly. This is his fault. All his fucking fault.

"Glam stay with me. Seriously don't start dissociating on me again. Can you please just talk to me? Please, say something?"

Glam took a deep breath, getting it together a little bit. Why was this so hard? Just say something, it really shouldn't be this hard. But yet the blonde was staring at his fellow band mate blankly once again, nothing but fear and sadness lacing his eyes.

Lordi sighed. "Come on Glam. Ches wouldn't want this. He wouldn't want his best friend becoming a lump of decaying sadness over his death. He'd want you to continue on. Continue on for him. Continue on for him Glam. I didn't want to bring this up but if you keep up like this, the manager is suggesting checking you into a mental hospital. I know you don't want that and I certainly don't."

After a few hours of talking, Glam had eventually pretended to get it together enough he convinced Lordi he'd get better. He promised he'd start eating and sleeping again, he promised he'd start talking again, he promised he'd get over it. Maybe a week after keeping up this getting it together act, he'd managed to convince Lordi and Bobby that he'd be fine, and that they should continue on with the band. Glam had decided he wasn't interested in re-joining. Not without Ches. He'd have to continue this new chapter of his life without them.

Glam's time in the hotel room had finally expired. He had managed to get a really small shitty apartment in a crappy part of town. He didn't mind. It had a small basic kitchen with little to no counter space. A bedroom, and a bathroom. Basically it was a studio. The entire apartment smelled like mildew and all the wallpaper was peeling. It came fully furnished, the furniture smelled of the elderly and looked like it was let alone owned by an elderly women. The lights in the apartment were dim to say the least. You could barely tell that they were even on when they were used. Glam supposed he didn't mind though. After all, something is better than nothing. The blonde was able to afford said apartment with the job he had gotten at a local library in town. He really only just helped stock the shelves and re-organize the books. He didn't mind. It was quiet. His new life was nothing but quiet. All the time. Words, conversations, and music swirled around him but it would never matter. Not without his best friend.