Colors of Love

Five

Needlessta say, the following week wasn't easy for anyone even remotely involved, but Bobby and Tom prolly had it the worst. The latter'd lost quite a bit in losing his grandson–who actually didn't share a drop of blood with him, but might as well've–and Naturally, it hit him pretty hard. But in being mated to the older bassist, no one could really say that it didn't hit the former harder than it'd hit his grampa. Finding out he was pregnant only Days, at best before finding out his mate was dead–and from a heroin overdose, at that–was definitely adding insult to injury.

        After Nikki's corpse–what was left of it, that is–was released from the coroner's office, the elderly Neko was the one to collect it and make the majority of the arrangements. He was both his grandson's legal next-of-kin, and he also knew what his final Wishes were, should he outlive the younger Neko. Said younger Neko'd made it clear that if he wasn't cremated, he wasta be buried next to his grama up in what he considered his home State of Idaho.

        During that week of waiting for the older bassist's corpseta be released, though, it seemed like his young mate was far more devastated that anyone'd previously anticipated. Those who knew him best thought he might be tempted to hit the bottle as a way of coping with his loss, but think better of it due to the kit he was carrying. However, it didn't seem like even being pregnant was gonna make him think twice about quite literally drowning his Sorrows in whatever he could get his hands on. Eventually, it got to the point that Elvin Rikki was forced to spell him to protect his kit, or he'd End up triggering a miscarriage. And if his pregnancy didn't come to that End, he'd wind up delivering a blighted kit, likely one with fetal alcohol syndrome.

        With the corpse finally up in Idaho, Bobby's closest friends were forced to drag him up there for the funeral they knew he didn't wanna go to. Both were smart enough not to even try talking him into giving a eulogy, knowing damn good and well he wouldn't get three words out before breaking down. Still, they thought he needed to accept the finality of what'd happened, even if he didn't wanna since it'd help him move on.

        "I just–I don't wanna go," he said with a whimper as Bret and Rikki helped him get dressed on the Day of Nikki's funeral.

        "I know ya don't, bud," Bret sighed, gently cupping his cheeks in his palms. "None of us do, if only 'cuz he was just too damn young."

        "He still had a lotta living left to do, a lot more songs left to write," the drummer agreed, helping him into his suit jacket. "And that's not including a kit to help raise."

        Bobby couldn't help a soft sob as his hands drifted down to cup his lower belly. "He's not even gonna get to meet them, and they're only gonna know who Daddy is 'cuz of pictures I show them."

        "Well, the bright side–if there is one–in this is thatcha can say one thing," his best friend told him.

        "And what's that?" the younger bassist asked with a sniffle.

        "At leastcha can say that while he did kinda abandon this kit, he's not just out running around somewhere, shirking his Responsibility," Bret told him. "Kinda hard to fulfill a Responsibility of any kind when ya can't even draw a breath, now ain't it?"

        "Yeah, I guess that's true," he acquiesced, nodding. "He coulda just ran off like our own dads did, alive but unwilling to be there for us like they shoulda been."

        "If it makes it any easier, ya can kinda think about it like a soldier going to War, too," Rikki said thoughtfully. "He was kinda like a soldier of Expression who just didn't make it through the battle to get his point out there so it was actually heard."