On With The Show

9

"Get up, tough guy, we're back," Tommy laughed, shaking Nikki a bit, earning nothing but a groan and a fuck you from the older one. Tommy held Nikki's forearm for a second, tugging at it in a last effort to wake him up, when his eyes fell on a long scar on Nikki's arm. Tommy absent-mindedly ran his finger along it, trying to figure out some sort of explanation. His mind drew a blank.

Nikki jerked awake, inhaling deeply.

"Fuck, man, we reach already?" he said, suddenly aware of where they were. Vince let out a slight laugh; when Nikki slept, he slept hard.

"Yeah, dude! Oh, and you know that apartment next to yours? Vince has the cash to rent it! Isn't that great? It's going to be so awesome, man!" Tommy grinned, not realizing Nikki was still groggy and disoriented.

"Mmmmmmmmm," Nikki managed to get out, stretching a bit as he stood up. "Mhm."

It took all of Vince's strength to not laugh at that as Nikki blinked, trying to let his eyes adjust to the light. "Uh – I'm going to talk to the landlord, the studio apartment next to yours is free, I just want to get the contract signed, and stuff," he mumbled, only just clear enough for the other two to hear what it was he had just said. Tommy nodded enthusiastically, Nikki just nodded.

Nikki was starting to regret drinking as much Jack as he did; "What do you say we keep the drum in Vince's apartment? That way we don't need to move, plus, it is right next to ours!" Tommy said, grinning. "Dude, Vince is gonna love this idea! He's looking for a band too, you know? He's got an amazing voice. And vocal range."

Nikki felt something in his gut – not a good one, either. Yeah, this Vince guy was good. Hell, he was amazing as a singer. He made a f.ucking cover band sound good, Nikki had to admit. There was, however, a small part of him that didn't like how well he and Tommy got along – two physically affectionate extroverts around each other was basically the recipe for friendly hugs, constantly holding hands, and, worst of all, long, in depth conversations with strangers. Nikki liked talking to interesting people – the problem was, Tommy thought everyone was interesting. Nikki sighed; Vince was clearly Tommy's friend already – they knew each other from Covina. He felt himself getting irritable; he assumed it was the hangover setting in.

"That's... A good idea, Lee," He said, forcing himself to nod a bit.

They sat down on the footpath, their feet on the road as they waited for Vince – the meeting with the landlord would decide if he was even moving in. Nikki leaned back, using his arms to prop himself up. He bit his lip. "Tommy?"

"Yeah, Nik?"

"How well do you know Vince?"

Tommy grinned. "We were friends in high school – first couple of years, everyone in school loved him. He was awesome, the literal coolest. I thought he was a fun guy – shitty friends, cool guy, you know? Anyway, some friend drama or something happened in junior year, and he became a bit of a loner. He was still one of my friends, obviously, so we started hanging out for a while till he dropped out of school to form a band – Rock Candy."

Nikki just nodded, feeling the pang from earlier again. He bit his lip, nodding. "He seems cool, he's got balls. Most 5' 9" guys don't fight as well as he does."

Tommy smiled a bit, nodding. "Yeah, he's cool."

*

Three hours later, they'd finished putting Tommy's drums in Vince's place. It was a significantly cleaner place than Nikki's – though to be fair, Nikki was a messy person. He'd lost track of the amount of times he'd put out his cigarettes in the wall this week alone. Tommy had a giant shit eating grin on his face once they were done. The place was already semi-furnished, or as Vince put it, 'as furnished as it absolutely needs to be'. He'd gone out to get clothes for himself, Tommy tagging along for 'second opinions'. Nikki had been about to volunteer to come too, but Tommy cut him off saying it's a nostalgia thing. Not that Nikki actually cared. Right? Who gives a shit about clothes? Hell, Vince can have Tommy all to himself if that's what the bastard wants-

Oh.

Oh.

He swore loudly, punching the wall.

You can't fall for the first person who gave enough of a shit to stay for more than a couple of days, idiot. That messes shit up. F.ucking dumbass!

He clenched his teeth, inhaling deeply as he stuck his hand down his pocket, pulling out his lighter, flicking it on. Watching the flame was always oddly soothing for him; it managed to calm him down just enough every time. He sighed to himself. He had to leave. He couldn't let Vince see him like this. He definitely couldn't let Tommy. Not again.

Nikki's breath got caught in his throat as he turned off the lighter, sprinting to his apartment and locking the door shut. He pulled the curtains closed, sliding against a wall and trying to get his breathing under control again. He pulled his knees closer to himself, the way he used to when he was much younger, when he was still vulnerable (though, come to think of it, he was, once again, vulnerable).

He ran his hands through his hair, pulling at it till he felt a few strands too many tear off, breathing heavily as he tried in vain to get his tears to go back into his eyes, instead of flowing over the sides of it. He clenched his jaw, digging his fingers into his arm as he made one final attempt to calm himself down.

He thought about his goal – the only thing he wanted from life. Success. Enough to finally cause Deana the regret she deserves. He bit his lip once more, thinking about how she'd never given a crap – and how, if his aunt's words were to be trusted, she'd refused to even look at him for the first three weeks of his life. If Tommy spending all his time with Vince was the price he had to pay for it, Nikki knew he had to let it happen.

Even so, Tommy lived with Nikki. Not Vince.For the moment, that was enough of a source of comfort for Nikki.