Band Oneshots

He'll have to find a new base player to then(Bobby Dall xCC Deville)

This has self harm in!!! Don't read if it will effect you in anyway, anyone struggling With anything like this I'm so proud of you for making it through today! This is the last one for a while so please enjoy!

It was fucked up. That was Cc's initial thought as he stared at his 'friends'. "Are you fucking kidding me? Why am I the only one getting this shit?" They were threatening to kick him out unless he laid off of the Coke for a while. It was fucking with his sense of rhythm whenever they were onstage and it would have made them sound almost terrible if Bobby, Rikki hadn't kicked into overdrive.

"Cause you're the messiest, Deville!" Bret shouted with anger clear in his voice. "You'd lose your head when you're high if we weren't around for you!" "You were never around for me! Don't get it twisted. Now you're in here making demands for me that you can't even meet yourselves?!" Cc yelled right back at Bret making it worse. "Fucking tell Rikki to get sober, too, if the state of your fucking band means so much to you!" Cc crossed his arms in an attempt to hide the bruises and scars that Bret had given him days before, from the night of his royal fuckup job on MTV .

Bobby looked down. He utterly hated the way they had to approach this subject because although CC was down bad on the coke, he wasn't the only one and it wasn't fair. However it seemed like Bret just had it out for the kid lately and anybody that tried to come in between that situation was pulled into a screaming match or an actual fight that they didn't have the energy for. "Don't worry about them. Just get your shit together first." Bret snapped back.

"Bret—" Bobby finally spoke, as they normally listened to what wise words he had for them, but he was only shut down with a hard glare from the singer. Rikki had stared at the floor the entire time, too afraid to look one of his best friend in the eyes, knowing their activities had been exactly the same, only Rikki could hold himself together enough to play his drums in time to the songs.

Cc finally looked at the others, but they all were looking elsewhere, too ashamed to look even look him in the eyes. "You guys are fucking assholes." Cc scoffed, lighting a cigarette with slightly shaking hands. "And fucking hypocrites." "Whatever." Bret shot back.

He thought it was utter bullshit and they were a bunch of fucking hypocrites because they all were just as fucked up as he was. They didn't want to hear his explanations or anything. They just stated their demands and left him, alone, in his apartment.

That night he'd sat, all alone, crying in the corner with his knees to his chest, shaking from just going a few hours without his drugs, but he was trying. He went through his last few packs of cigarettes in less than six hours before he realized he'd had to face this forced sobering without any of his coping mechanisms.

Cc also quickly realized the worst thing about doing drugs for long periods of time is not the effects it has on you, but the way it keeps it's grip on you when you try to let go. He'd look back at the clock every minute and hate himself even more because he knew it'd be too easy to rush to the phone and call up his dealer. It'd be too easy to score and too easy to lose his friends. He knew that in the moment, if he let his demons get the best of him, he wouldn't care what anybody thought.

Although after that high wore off, the weight would come crushing down on him and he'd go chasing yet another high to just feel something and forget the pains of being left alone, just like his worst nightmares had told him. He ached so badly for something, anything, but he didn't want to disappoint them. He didn't want to hurt them anymore. He was trying, because he loved them and he didn't want them to leave him behind.

So he had got up from that corner in his apartment, opened his kitchen window on the 10th floor and yanked every landline cord out of his walls before tossing all the phones out the window. He didn't even think twice about his decision. Even when the voices from the streets below yelling up at him couldn't break him. He just knew that if he kept wallowing inside his head, he'd eventually call someone and score something.