On With The Show

17

Tommy sat on his stool, running his fingers over the diaphragm of his drums, closing his eyes and listening to the guitarist play.

This guy is awesome.

He'd gotten his own stack of Marshalls, his own cables and glared at Tommy when he'd offered to help him carry the amps up the narrow staircase to Vince's apartment.

Granted, that was hardly... Sweet, especially after what just happened, but in the end, it was a distraction.

Exactly what he needed at that moment.

It felt almost stupid - staying here, acting as if everything was fine when seconds ago the singer and bassist were at each other's throats. Tommy appreciated his roommate's protective streak, he really did. Hell, most of the time it made him feel better. After seeing it as something other than theoretical, however...

He didn't know what to feel.

It was scary, almost, how easily Nikki flipped from being excited about them finding a guitarist to practically beating the shit out of Vince. Not that Vince was innocent in this either.

He just had to be drawn to the most volatile people, didn't he? maybe he should have listened to his parents and become an accountant or some shit. Accountants don't beat up the people they live and work with... And (probably) don't call each other whores...

He clutched onto his sticks and shook his head. Not the time, he thought, twirling them between his fingers and looking at the guitarist's slender fingers moving with surprising speed and accuracy over the fretboard. He forced a smile.

It was something he never thought he'd have to do again. Put on a mask, act happy... This was the first time he'd had to do that since he left Honey. He couldn't let it slip, he didn't want to make Nikki feel worse. Not after he saw what happened when Nikki did.

He looked at the ad - he still had it in his jeans pocket.

Mick Mars.

That was a cool fuckin' name.

A drop of genuine happiness found its way into his smile, the shred Mick was playing seeming to cheer him up marginally.

*

He was a fucking moron.

Nikki slapped himself mentally - that was an idiotic thing to do. Especially after Tommy had finally started trusting him, and he'd started too trust Tommy. Of course, he knew he would never, ever want to hurt him. But life's a bitch, isn't it? It's not like he ever wantted to hurt anyone he ended up hurting.

The music stopped abruptly, and Nikki's head snapped up.

"Listen, you three. I'm fucking old - I don't have time to put up with your crap if you're going to sit there silently and stare at the floor. Are you willing to go the distance? If not, I've got better things to do. I'm giving you fifteen minutes to resolve whatever temper tantrum you've got going on, and if it's not done by then, find a different loser to play guitar for you."

Before any of them had a chance to respond, the Mars guy kept his guitar down and walked out. Nikki instinctively glanced at Tommy - hoping to see something in the drummer's eyes. He was smiling, yes, but Nikki noticed pain in his expression despite it.

"Tommy-"

"I'm fine. It's all okay remember? It's fine."

A sigh came from the corner - Vince was holding a bag of peas to his nose. "No, the fuck it isn't. Nikki, we had a deal and you fucking broke it. I don't have to deal with your bullshit, I'm willing to bet I can just leave here and find another band in twenty minutes flat. Give me one good reason to stay."

Nikki's eyes were downcast. "I can't..." He said softly, before inhaling deeply. his dream was falling apart before it even took off. He sighed. However stupid it sounded, he had to say it. "Only reason you shouldn't is because I want you in my band. Despite what happened, I want to be around you."

He heard Vince inhale sharply, before throwing the bag of peas. "It happens again and I'm gone."

Tommy got up. "I'm getting Mick back, if we're done."

"Tommy, wait."

Tommy's head snapped around, "What is it, Nikki? Something wrong?"

Nikki got up and grabbed his arm, "Tommy, I need to talk to you..." He said softly, starting to loosen the grip. "I swear, it's nothing bad. I promise."

All he got in response was a sigh and a nod, before Tommy followed him away from the main room.

He drew in a shaky breath. "Tommy, I'm not the type who usually apologizes. No, don't say anything yet, please let me talk?" He pressed his finger against Tommy's lips. "I'm sorry I hit you. I don't care whether it was intentional or not. I hurt you, and that's not okay. I'm the reason you got hurt. I can justify myself a million different ways - I got overprotective, I meant to hit Vince not you, or that I just wanted to get you out of the way so you wouldn't get hurt when Vince and I fought it out. None of that excuses it. I hurt you, and you didn't deserve that in the slightest. You're the sweetest, happiest person I've met despite everything that's happened to you and I never meant to hurt you. You get me in a way nobody else ever did, and... I'm sorry. I promise, that for you I'll stop fighting as much as I do. In the shirt time I've known you, you've become the most important person in the world to me." He paused for a second. "Now, I don't want you to say anything about this just yet - I want you to think it over, okay? I don't want you to stay if you don't feel safe here. No matter what happens, I want you to know that I'll always care about you, okay? You don't deserve to be hurt in any way, shape or form. I'm sorry, Tommy..."

Tommy looked at him and nodded slowly, "I'll think it over, like you asked, Nikki..."

Nikki's heart clenched, but he nodded.

*

Truthfully, Tommy was far from fine. But at times like this, there was one thing he knew how to do - make everyone else happy and maybe absorb some of that for himself. He got up and went out the door.

"It's all fine now, Mick."

"Don't waste my time. I'm not joining if there are going to be too many fights - if you're serious, I'm coming," came the guitarist's voice, the puff of smoke emerging from his mouth easily visible in the sunlight.

"I'm serious. Band's all good." Tommy had his best happy face on.

Mick let out a small smile, "Good. You've got talent - don't squander it fighting. There's no bigger waste, nothing that ends careers more than that."

The words struck some sort of chord with him, and his mask fell away. "There isn't..."

Tommy froze again. "I need to talk to Nikki.. I promise, though, Mick. Band's completely good, dude."