Terror Twin [Def Leppard] #Wattys2016

XVIII: Scar

August, 1986.

Steve yawned, realizing he was cold and then finding it difficult to sit up in bed.

He remembered why.

They were in a crowded, stuffy bus, and he was alone in his bunk.

Steve wouldn't want to be anywhere else, besides with Phil.

Phil slept in the bunk directly across from him, Joe next to Phil, Sav under Joe. Rick stayed under Steve.

They had just kicked off yet another tour. The bus was moving out of Ireland at the moment, as their next show was in back in England. It was the seventh annual "Monsters Of Rock" festival, and they'd be playing alongside Ozzy Osbourne, Motörhead, and the Scorpions. It was all a bit surreal to Steve. The festival was on the 16th, giving them two days between shows.

This show was different. It was special. This was the show that would mark the beginning of Rick on drums with them again. It had been too long, but with some help, Rick had learned how to play completely with his foot on his left side using half of an electric kit, and his drumming sounded better than ever.

Steve was pumped, to say the least. The stress of touring always weighed on his shoulders, but it was a nice stress. He loved being on the road almost as much as recording in the studio; which they would be picking up after this short tour.

August 16th was tomorrow, and Steve couldn't wait.

Rick's nerves were building up in his gut. He had played on stage many times before, of course, but never like this. He'd never had such a big deal made out of him. That was Joe's job, right? The vocalist dealt with the press.

Not anymore.

Rick had been plagued with interviewers and fans asking questions since the moment he showed his face out of the hospital. It wasn't that he didn't appreciate the concern; this has just never happened to him before.

Sav was exhausted. Between practicing on his own for three hours a day, plus the shows, plus taking care of the boys, he had practically become the "mum" of the band. Whenever he mentioned this, he always received the same answer: "You're the only one pretty enough to be mum anyway."

Phil sympathized with Sav over that fact. The two had grown closer over the past months, and many times they had been found laying on top of each other, talking about the creation of the world and other deep shit, by their very confused boyfriends.

Joe didn't bother asking. He was shutting himself away more and more, lyrics suddenly harder to come by. It was writer's block. The words didn't flow beautifully and easily anymore; they felt forced, and it angered him. Too many times he slammed his notebook shut and threw a pen out the bus window.

Too many times he retreated out of the parked bus to retrieve it, as it was the last pen he had.

Joe had to buy more pens.

Steve stretched awkwardly in his bunk, banging his head against the cot above him as the bus hit a bump.

"Fuck.." He grumbled, rubbing his forehead. Steve slipped off his top bunk, naked spare his trusty robe. He snuck over to the closet where their makeshift drawers were. Hands rummaged through the clothing until he decided on a pair of worn-out blue jeans and a form-fitting black t-shirt. He tucked it in carefully, the need to look perfect absorbing his time. Steve knew Phil wouldn't complain. He'd throw on a jacket if they went out.

"Your ass looks hot." Arms snaked their way around Steve's waist, and Phil was there, right on cue.

"Didn't know you were awake." Steve chuckled, turning around and wrapping his arms around his smaller love.

"Butt," was all Phil mumbled, and then there were hands on Steve's ass.

Steve laughed, doing the same to Phil.

"Save it for when you're alone, jesus." Joe's teasing voice purred as he approached, a sly grin sliding onto his soft lips. Phil rolled his eyes.

"You shouldn't be talking. Tell Mr. Savage to buy you a gag, because we all heard you last night."

Fingers were flipped off, and Steve and Phil went to go sit on Steve's bunk.

Rick was laying awake in his bunk, laughing silently at the events taking place. When he saw Phil's feet scramble past his bunk curtain up to Steve's, he was even tempted to pull him back down. But that would be mean, and Rick didn't want to hurt Phil if he fell.

Losing an arm was something to get used to for sure. Many times Rick would find himself reaching for something, being puzzled when he didn't pick it up, and then realizing the arm wasn't even there. Often he'd wake up to pain in the 'phantom limb', a sharp pain in the elbow of an arm that wasn't attached to his body anymore, or itches that were impossible to scratch.

It was beyond annoying.

Rick still had his drumming, though, and he had worked through at all just to he could play this show tomorrow. The other guys may know it's important to Rick, but none would know exactly how much the show meant to him. It was the starting line of a new chapter in his life, one he wasn't sure he was ready to begin.

But time never waited to make sure you were ready. Time just passed. Time was always passing, and Rick believed that all your time will pass you by if you don't use it wisely.

Time.

Tick, tock. The alarm clock on the other side of the bunk room clicked away. Everyone always woke up before the clock went off, just so they didn't have to wake up to its hellish screaming. It seemed everyone but Sav was up, if he wasn't mistaken. Rick knew how cranky Sav could get. Maybe he should turn off the clock.

Rick scooted out of his bunk, stretching and making his way over to the table. Scooping up the clock with his right hand, he reached to turn it off.

The hand wasn't there.

Rick placed the clock back on the table on its face, gently switching it off.

Tick, tock, tick, silence.

Sav rolled over in bed, glancing gratefully over at Rick. The drummer only smiled.

Rick watched the second hand go strolling by for a few moments. The hand, it was intent on its mission: get to the twelve, go in a circle, back to the twelve, repeat. Rick didn't understand it, but if the clock had found its motivation running in circles, it was free to do as it wished.

Time.

Tick, tock.

Rick would be okay.

In time.