Secrets

Part One: MTM -- High

A week of shows, and a week of carefully rationed vicodin, had passed, and Mike was holding on to a thin thread of patience with Chester's mood swings. It was unusual for the emcee to be at the breaking point with the vocalist, but the combination of exhaustion, pain, and drugs was making him difficult to handle. Mike was tired and stressed out from keeping a watchful eye on his bandmate.

Surprisingly, Chester had kept his distance at bedtime after falling asleep with Mike that first night. The morning after the fall, they'd awoken, limbs entangled, and just like the very first time they'd fallen asleep together, neither of them quite knew what to say. Most of the nights they'd spent together were simple, merely falling asleep on the same mattress, an entire body's width worth of space between them. This particular night had been more. Both men were acutely aware that a conscious decision had been made to climb into bed together and hold each other through the night. In their minds, Mike rationalized that Chester needed comfort, and Chester rationalized that he was injured and therefore in need of comfort. Neither of them said a word to the other about the gentle warmth and security enclosed in the blankets, surrounded by the cold, dark haven of the hotel room, that morning. It was easier for Mike to simply squeeze Chester close and ask how he was feeling, and for Chester to savor the intimacy a moment longer before he asked for another vicodin, causing Mike to rise immediately but reluctantly from cocoon of the bed to provide the painkiller.

After that first night, Mike had given Chester his nightly dose in his own room, and watched as Chester climbed into his own bed afterwards. Despite the longing to have the vocalist close to him, Mike stayed quiet about their sleeping arrangement, though he did leave their connecting doors unlocked each night- just in case. It was hard to admit that he wished Chester would come to him, just to watch tv or talk, not necessarily to share the empty void of Mike's bed. It was harder to admit that he really just wanted Chester at his side, occupying that lonely space next to him. Chester's moods had been unpredictable all week, and Mike had started to worry mid-way through the week about his short temper-- which had been aimed particularly at Mike when he was at his worst.

The sets had mostly been fine, despite the band having to change a song here and there when Chester's services had been needed on guitar. After tonight's show they would have two more days to sightsee in Australia before heading back to the states for another break, but the vicodin were gone and there were to be no refills, despite the aching pain Chester still complained about in his arm. Mike had helpfully supplied Chester with two Tylenol, which had not seemed to help the pain much, and he started to wonder if they should do the show tonight, their last one in Australia, considering the mood Chester was in at the moment.

"You're sure you want to do the show tonight, Ches?" Mike was hovering next to Chester, exactly the same way he had been hovering all day, and Chester couldn't help but roll his eyes at the question.

"Yes. I did the whole fuckin' show the night I broke it with no painkillers at all. Throw me another Tylenol and we're all set." He didn't even look Mike's way as he bit the words out sarcastically.

Mike's lips settled into a thin line. "Don't take it out on me that your vicodin ran out. You know as well as I do why you aren't getting any refills. And it's too soon for more Tylenol." He glanced at his watch and considered. "Well, I guess technically you could have two more in an hour. I think the bottle says a maximum of six in a twenty-four hour period. Do you think you need more before we do the set?" Chester wasn't looking, but Mike's eyebrows were drawn together in concern, the white pill bottle burning a hole in the bottom of his backpack.

"Seeing as how you're only giving me two fucking Tylenol at a time, yeah, I do think I need some more." Chester's words came out sharper than he intended as he turned to glare at the emcee, and he immediately backed down as the hurt swept across Mike's face. "Sorry... sorry, I... it just hurts. I know you're trying to do the right thing. I know you're just keeping me in check. I feel like I'm being an asshole, and I only had those pills for a week. And it hasn't even been twenty-four hours since I took the last one. I'm a fucking mess, Mike."