Broken Record

9

Warning: Contains adult language, sexual content, unconsensual sex, briefly mentions suicidal intentions, and severe survivor's guilt! 

-Jorel-

I am so proud of Dylan. With lots of video chat therapy, he's talking a lot better and his singing is getting better. He cannot perform a song just yet. Though he's finally accustomed to the bus he isn't scared anymore. There's still a long way to go, particularly naming that he has to start driving again soon. That's a whole different ball park that we will handle soon. 

After a long week and a half of singing and performing for long hours at a time, our small holiday themed tour finishes tonight. It's Christmas Eve and we are all wiped. This last venue had to be the best of them all. It has a bar, a large backstage lounge, there's a McDonalds next door, and just behind the building sits a small motel. We briefly check out the motel and it's pretty luxurious given it's shape and the outside. Dyl and I are lucky to score a single king size room. 

An hour before the show, all of us except Dylan, decide to get buzzed off alcohol before we start. Hell, we do better a little drunk anyway. Currently, we are all stumbling like toddlers trying to change our clothes. Jordon trips over his own feet, domino toppling over Danny and George. Dylan is sitting on the sofa watching us with amusement.

"Y'all g-got it?" He asks with a chuckle.

"Sure do, man." George answers. 

Jordon stands to get his pants on and he takes out his phone snapping a picture of Dylan sitting and watching a video on his tablet. I mean, who can blame him? He's just adorable. Danny stands to his feet.

"Wanna try going out with no mask?" 

Dylan shakes his head. 

"No. I don't I-I'm ready."

That's okay. We're all cool letting him come out at his own pace. It'll do more harm than good making him do something he doesn't want to do. George pops the window open as he lights a joint that he is holding between his fingers.

"Yo. Let's take a good luck hit."

One by one we all take a couple of hits off the joint. With the alcohol running through our veins it didn't take long for a buzz to take over. We hear the drums signaling that we're on soon. George gives the remaining joint to Dylan to smoke up. 

"Keep it real, man." He says as he starts to leave.

Once the others were gone I quickly rush to Dylan to give him a hug. He gently pulls me onto his lap.

"Can't you start puking and t-tell them you're too drunk to sing? I w-want you to stay here, b-beautiful."

I giggle, brushing his face with my hand. I am in a small trance as I stare at his face. He's so beautiful. I can't get over how cute he looks with his surgery scars. Even though his face is deformed he still looks like the old Dylan to me.

"I can't but I'll be back soo, okay?"

He pouts before leaning down to lock lips. I press my hand onto the back of his head to deepen the kiss. He closes his eyes and hums. A sound of a camera clicking caught my attention.

"Aye-yo! Jorel! Either get your gay ass over here or get a fucking room!" 

It's Jordon. He's standing in the doorway laughing his ass off. My eyes roll as I stand myself up. I give Dylan's nose a small playful pinch. 

"Love you." I coo. 

I grab my bass off the stand and flip Jordon off as I walk out behind him.

"I'm coming, you pervert!"