Human Connect To Human

{Concert 1} Chapter 5: Friday (Part 2)

Concert 1

Chapter 5: Friday

It happened during rehearsals the day before the show. Bill was singing Humanoid acoustically when his head started to feel light. He felt his face pale and his body turn to jelly. He prayed silently that he could finish the song and then rush backstage to throw up or faint, but it wasn’t to be; he collapsed without a second thought.

He didn’t feel the fall as it happened, but he sure felt it when he opened his eyes and found himself on the floor. His back, head and arms hurt as if he had fallen down a flight of stairs. He winces as he sits up on his elbow. For a moment all he saw was pitch black. He blinks and slowly he begins to see light. Tom was over him, his eyes full of concern.

“What happened?” He asks Bill, patting his forehead, feeling his temperature. “What’s wrong?”

“I-I don’t know,” Bill replies, shaking his head. “Tomi?”

“Ja?”

“I need to throw up,” Bill says, embarrassed. “Like, now!”

Tom hauls Bill up and they run to the bathroom. Bill slams open a stall and retches into the toilet. Nothing comes out; he hasn’t eaten enough to throw up. He dry retches again, and then pressing his head back on the cool stall wall, he sighs.

“Bill?” Tom asks, coming into the stall. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Bill assures him, “just nerves.”

“Nerves…” Tom echoes. “You can’t keep giving me that excuse, it wears out after a while.”

“It's nerves, I swear.”

Tom rises, offering a hand to Bill, but he shakes his head. He likes the cold temperature of the room, the cleanliness of it. Tom looks at Bill one more time, his brown eyes widened with concern, before giving him a small wave and leaving.

Bill knows Tom will cover for him; he always does, being the big brother. Shaking his head, Bill stands by pulling on the door. His legs feel like jelly and his vision blurs as he takes a step.What's wrong with me?

He walks slowly to the door and turns the lock. He doesn't want anyone seeing him like this; it would be shameful. His boots clink on the linoleum-tiled floor as he walks to the sink. Turning the faucet, he dips his finger into the cold water and then his hand. He looks up at the mirror and sighs. He looks terrible.

Baggy, sad brown eyes lined with Kohl, his lip swollen, hair messed up, nothing is right. He cups some water in his hand and splashes it on his face, not caring if it spills behind him. He closes his eyes as the cold water hits his face. The darkness comforts him, it always has. In the dark there’s no judgment, no guilt, only emptiness. Emptiness he desperately wants.

He sighs. One more day and he will be back home, just one more concert. Rubbing his hands over his face, he breathes in slowly before standing straight and walking to the door. He turns the door knob but doesn’t open the door. His body won't let him. Instead, he crashes into the door and tears fall.

“Wer verfehlt mich?“ He asks himself. Who will miss me? 

“He’s fine,” Tom assures everyone as he leads Bill to their makeup room. “It's alright now, right, Bill?”

“Ja,” Bill says, automatically. He feels okay, not fine, but okay. “I’m okay.”

Everyone sighs in relief and turn to do their jobs before the big show. No one sees Bill’s hands trembling or his deep breaths. They don’t notice anything; a few words and they go on about their lives. Not even Tom notices, his big brother, his savior.

“Tomi?”

“Yeah, Bill?” Tom turns to him. “What’s wrong?”

“I want to go home,” he looks around making sure no one overhears, “I don’t feel well.”

He wants to go home, back to their home in L.A., back to solitary. This touring and promoting has him on edge, and when he is on edge the nightmares return, and when they return the urge returns. The urge to pick up something sharp and graze the tip over his skin, the urge to see his blood leaving his body, feeling the warm liquid drip from his arms down to the floor.

Totally oblivious to his internal turmoil, Tom nods. “Okay,” Tom looks around. He takes Bill’s hand and leads him outside the stadium. There are fans outside waiting, but they manage to stay out of sight enough to make it to Tom’s car. “When we get to the hotel, you go straight to bed.”

Bill nods as he puts on the seat belt and relaxes against the faux leather seats. He rolls down the window as Tom starts the car. The cold Chicago night air hits him straight in the face as they drive on. It brings him back to reality, back to the present. He can’t be sick, can’t. What would that mean for the concert tomorrow? He can’t cancel it; he can’t disappoint his fans, not again.

 Bill puts his shoulder on the car window, his hand resting on the mirror. He puts his chin on the nook of his arm and looks at himself. He's grown so much yet so little. He's no longer a little boy - on the outside. On the inside, he knows he is just as naive as ever. He might seem confident and strong, but he wasn't. And that in itself was a job, a job he was tiring of. 

They pass by the lake and he remembers the reporter he drove home last week. If he remembers correctly, she lives around here with her crazy dad. He smiles to himself. Around her he could relax, strange since he didn't know her at all.  "Turn left," he tells Tom, "I want to visit someone." "You know someone here?" Bill nods and stares out at the night sky. It's clear, stars shine here and there but nothing he hasn't seen before. This was one strange city. Never coming here again. How is it still cold in the summer? Stopping for a red light, Tom looks at Bill. Bill looks back through the side mirror.  "What?" he asks. "What is it?" "I - you look lonely," Tom says, surprised. "I'm here for you, you know that." Bill nods. "Talk to me, Bill." Fine, Bill says in his mind. You want to know? Fine. I think about dad everyday, I want to be with him. I can't pretend anymore, it's killing me. I want to be set free, be my own person, but I can't. I can't escape who I am, who I have become. I want to end it, but I'm too cowardly to do it. "It's green," Bill says instead, pointing at the street light.  He looks away, concentrating on the fading lights passing by.  They drive in silence, Bill giving him directions every now and then. When they arrive, Tom looks at Bill questioningly, but he ignores the look and gets out of the car. The cold hits his body as he walks, making him shiver. Wrapping his arms around his slim body, he walks the path to the front door. He remembers the security guard as he enters the building. The guard stands and leans forward from his desk. "Hello," he says, approaching him. "Hello, young man," the guard replies, "I didn't think I'd be seeing you back. Not with the scene Mr. Alice caused." Bill chuckles. "Yeah, I didn't either, yet I'm here." "Shall I ring miss Alice or Mr. Alice?" "Miss Alice," Bill tells him, leaning on the desk, before pulling back and shaking his head. "No, never mind." "Young man," the guard calls out as Bill turns to leave. "Here is miss Alice's number. I'll tell her you dropped by earlier and I forgot to relay the message. Talk to her or text her or what ever you kids do these days." He writes her number down on a card and holds it out for Bill to take.  Bill nods and takes it. "Thank you." He turns back to the door. Tom is walking up the path, his phone in his ear. Bill inhales sharply before walking to the door to leave. "Young man?" the guard calls out. "Whatever is bothering you, if you let Mikah in sometimes she can be very insightful." Bill nods again, this time slowly. Perhaps he will text her, maybe even tonight. He turns to the guard once more, offering a small wave of goodbye, and steps out into the cold.