There were nights when there was something special in the air—nights where the souls of hundreds of people poured into the atmosphere and drifted onstage and pried their way down the throats of the people who drew them out. It was medication: a drug, but not in the sense that it'd fuck anyone over. It was more of a remedy. On a tour bus, you never quite sleep. There's always bumping around and the occasional honk of a car horn outside that rips you from the almost-dream you were having; there's the snoring of the person above you or below you, or there's the way you have to brace yourself against the wall when whoever's driving makes a turn at anything as severe as a ninety-degree angle. Even when the bus is parked for the night, there are outside noises and inside noises and the knowledge that you're not in a bed; you're in a cupboard. Insomnia is passed around like a cheap joint. There were only two things that made this less shitty: hotel rooms and those nights where everyone bleeds together into one collective being and feeds into whoever has drumsticks in his hands or a guitar strap around his neck.
Tony loved his girlfriend, but there were nights when he didn't. That was okay, because she wasn't around for them. He was a bit of a selfish creature. It was something he had long-since come to accept; something he learned to hide at the right times and let loose whenever he could. To him, it was okay for him to take what he wanted as long as it didn't hurt anybody. Some things, he took, and they would hurt if he didn't do his damndest to keep them inside his lungs. Secrets. Tony kept secrets. He did things he shouldn't; he said things he shouldn't. Then, when it was all over, he folded them up and swallowed them and they stayed locked up in his throat until it was time to indulge again. It felt innocent, really. Does morality even exist if there's no one to judge it? Tony didn't think so. Only he knew what he wanted. It was okay if he kept that to himself, because he really did love her, even if only for his own selfish reasons, like the way she made him feel okay.
Tony loved his girlfriend, and it was okay.
Mike didn't love his girlfriend, and it was okay, too.
