On With The Show

12

A week later

Tommy smiled to himself as he let the music take control as he played – Nikki was standing next to the drum set, playing riffs with him and almost perfectly matching his rhythm. There was an aura around Nikki, he thought, when he played bass. Right now, and for the past hour or so, they'd just been jamming – Tommy knew for a fact that Nikki didn't want to share his lyrics. How could he forget? It had taken its toll on both of them that night.

Vince was still at work – he'd probably take a while to get back. Thank every god there was that Vince gave him the spare keys, laughing and saying that he "wouldn't dare separate Tommy from his children". It was an inside joke, Vince was married to himself, and Tommy's drum set was his child. You wouldn't separate a mother from her children, would you? Vince had said to Honey before she and Tommy moved to LA. She didn't find it nearly as funny as Tommy or Vince did, just calling them idiots in addition to throwing a b.itchfest about why Tommy was still friends with Vince given everything once they were alone in the car. Tommy bit the inside of his cheek; he knew he'd just get angry at how she talked about Vince, or sad about leaving her, or something else along those lines. He couldn't let that happen.

He started drumming more intensely, seeing a smile creeping onto Nikki's face.

"Ready for some real Rock n' Roll, backyard party boy?" He grinned, playing a long note as he put his pick into his pocket. Tommy stared at Nikki, nodding and intensifying each beat, feeling the rush he was so familiar with, yet missed so much over the past year. He smiled, feeling the familiar joy pass through himself as he kept drumming till his hands ached.

*

"I got Chinese," Vince said, unlocking the door to his place and stepping over the numerous cables as he went to Tommy and Nikki, who were bickering with each other on the couch. He laughed, setting the takeout bag on the counter as Tommy sprang up.

"Smells great – got your paycheck too?" He asked, and Vince smiled at him and nodded, engulfing him in a hug. Nikki looked at his hands, playing with the pick he'd kept in his pocket as the two of them hugged. They stopped a few seconds later, and Tommy put the containers on a large enough plate.

"We're splitting it all – whatever we don't finish now, we'll have tomorrow," He said, as he and Vince sat cross-legged on the floor behind the couch. Nikki bit his lip, getting up and sitting with them.

This is nice, actually, He thought to himself as he felt Tommy shift towards him a bit. He picked up some of the chicken with his fork, putting it in his mouth and chewing. Takeout always did taste best the day it was picked up.

He absent-mindedly put his fork in the plate again, picking up some of the noodles.

"A.sshole!" Tommy's voice rang out. Nikki snapped back into focus. He'd taken the noodles right off Tommy's fork, in a nearly empty plate.

For two guys as scrawny as that they can eat like nobody's business.

He rolled his eyes, shoving the forkful of noodles into his mouth. Vince laughed, watching the horrified expression on Tommy's face as Nikki laughed, eating the noodles he'd so blatantly stolen.

Nikki smiled, making brief eye contact with Vince as the clearly much younger one laughed, leaning with his back against the couch.

"Get back to your own damn place, you two, you've been in here long enough," Vince laughed as he picked up the now empty plate, playfully glaring at the two of them. Nikki just smirked slightly as Tommy sprung up to his feet, dragging Nikki to the door. Nikki looked at Vince, opening his mouth to speak.

Vince cut him off before he could. "Yes, you can leave your bass and amp here, it's not like I'll use that area anyhow."

"See? I told you he can read minds," Tommy whisper-yelled in Nikki's ear as he dragged him out.

*

Crazy.

That's the only word that could describe the previous few days. Hell, Vince just took a ride in the back of Tommy's van from Covina to Los motherf.ucking Angeles. Nothing but the cash he had from the gig plus his job, his driver's license, and the clothes he was wearing. He'd managed to get his own apartment the first day – yeah, it was a cardboard box, but it was his – plus clothes he actually wanted, in addition to a job that wasn't awful.

Maybe good things could just happen. They just took their own sweet time to happen when it came to Vince. Either way, all of this, he felt, was long overdue. Hell, he'd had to run away when he was 16 because he just felt so trapped. He wasn't even entirely sure why at the time. Coupled with the absolute hell that ensued when he opened up about how he felt – suffice to say his experiences were far from positive. Tommy had been the only one who still treated him the way people are supposed to treat other, you know, people. It had taken its toll on him. He lifted his shirt slightly, biting back tears as he ran his fingers along the mark on the side of his stomach. Were it not for Tommy, his so-called friends –

No. He wouldn't think about that right now. He hurriedly rolled down his shirt again. Out of sight, out of mind. Right now, he'd better just focus. There was so much that could go wrong, at any second – the bathroom had a giant mirror in it. That was probably the last thing he needed. He'd be showering. He bit his lip, somehow picking up the steel-legged stool that came with the place. He carried it in his hands, kicking open the bathroom door and ramming it right into the mirror.

Luck is bullcrap. I haven't broken any mirrors, and we've all seen what happened. Suck my dick, serendipity!

He smiled to himself as he thought that. He repeated it in his head, feeling a slight rush of joy each time, before mumbling it out loud.

"Suck my dick. Suck my dick."

He thought back to the party.

'You've got balls,' Nikki had said – despite being a complete stranger.

He smiled, smashing the stool's legs against the mirror one last time, putting it aside and staring at the mess of glass on the bathroom floor, feeling strangely comfortable for someone who was barefoot and surrounded by shattered glass. He smiled one last time, picking up a few of the pamphlets the store had given him, sweeping up the shards of glass from his bathroom floor.

He dragged himself out of the bathroom – the catharsis that came with shattering the mirror soon fading. Too soon. Not that it mattered – he'd done it, hadn't he? He had, albeit temporarily, prevented himself from... Feeling that way. That was the important part.

He smiled as he lay on the thin mattress, staring up at the ceiling and holding his license in his hands, a finger covering part of it for obvious reasons. He stared at it – just the part he deemed most important.

FN: Vincent
LN: Neil.

Notes:

Hey! Sorry if Vince's monologue at the end isn't realistic - please, please message me or leave a comment if it is! I'm loosely basing this off what a few of my friends said about their experience (with their permission, of course. They don't know it's for a Motley Crue fic, just that I'm using it for a story, and I've changed it enough to make it seem a bit more generic, but I also know that sometimes that ruins the whole thing!) So please tell me - I'm not trans, so I'm bound to make a few mistakes, and I'd love it if someone told me how to correct them when I do make them.