wild side || tommy lee / motley crue

22. gone so long

05/02/1984

Motley's having a gig tonight at 11. Yet again, I'm forced to go with them because I've been at every show they've performed in the past. I suppose, it'll be fun. I can get blackout drunk on bitter cocktails and high on who knows what type of drugs this time.

I've been laying in bed for the past at least four hours, tossing and turning in discomfort, unable to fall back asleep. Me and Nikki had made up from the incident beforehand and he crawled into bed with me like every other casual night.

Nikki could never stay mad at me for long. He'd normally give me silent treatment for an hour or two, eventually giving his intentions up and apologizing to me. And I loved him for that. Tommy could disregard me for weeks, months, hell, years even and not lay his eye on me a single time.

Nikki's currently laying right next to me with his arm wrapped tightly around my waist, his soft fingers tracing circles on my hip bone.

I felt safe. For once.

Deciding that there was no point in staying in bed, I jolt out of his hold and slowly mope my way into the kitchen that's connected to the living room. As I enter the kitchen, I glance over to the living room and encounter Mick sitting there with what looks like a glass of vodka on the glass table in front of him.

"Morning, Mick." I say as I walk over to the coffee machine.

"Mornin, kid." He replies, taking a sip from his  glass.

"What are you drinking?" I ask him curiously, assuming it was straight vodka.

"In all honesty, just water. It's too early for anything else." He tells me with a slight, barely audible chuckle.

I hum in response and make myself some morning coffee, sitting behind the counter. Picking out a cigarette, I light it between my teeth and have a good silent break from all the conundrums going on in my defiling life. That lasted for about ten minutes until Tommy walks into the kitchen.

"Morning, Val" He greets me in an optimistic tone and sits down on the barstool next to me.

"Morning." I mumble back, taking a sip from the coffee, the cup warming up my cold hands.

I was overly confused over Tommy's behavior towards me lately. Yes, we went out for coffee for once but why does he keep communicating with me? It's not like we're friends or anything, right?

"We're having a gig tonight, you joining us?" He asks me excitedly, giving me a warm and welcoming smile.

"Well, I guess so." I answer his question.

"Please do." He pleads me with a hopeful smile.

"Why'd you want me there so bad, anyway?" I ask him straight up, not caring if my statement was an assumption. In fact it was not.

"It wouldn't be the same without you." He tells me, avoiding eye contact with me and staring forward at the wall instead.

"It's not like you ever talk to me." I make a brave confession, immediately feeling a pang of ignominy.

He snaps his head in my direction and turns me into the one who's avoiding eye contact. Damn, I shouldn't have said that. Now it looks like I really want him to talk to me.