The Rhythm Of Our Broken Hearts

Chapter Seventeen: If Dying Is Your Way Out

Chapter Seventeen: If Dying Is Your Way Out

Andy was pretty sure he was still half-drunk when he woke up. His head felt like it was going to split in half. The light shining through the blinds felt like someone was stabbing him in the eyes. The singer would do anything to pass out for the rest of the day. After cutting back on his drinking he'd forgotten how miserable hangovers were.

He didn't even remember most of the night. Vaguely recalling slamming shots of whiskey at the bar. Matt wasn't in bed with him, hopefully, that didn't mean they were fighting. He hated that he couldn't remember. But he could be a real dick when he drank.

Andy almost fell over when he finally made the effort to get up. His equilibrium still hadn't returned. He stumbled into the bathroom, the noise from upfront making him wince. It had to be past noon already. That only left him a few hours before he'd need to be ready for soundcheck and press.

The singer glanced at his reflection in the mirror. His face was puffy from drinking and his eyes were bloodshot. His stomach looked bloated and he was horribly dehydrated. What a wonderful fucking day he thought to himself.

Matt checked the time on his phone, wondering if Andy had crawled out of bed yet. He doubted Andy would be in the mood to talk but he needed to. The older man needed to know if something was going on. If he was slipping up or having second thoughts, they should discuss it. If Andy wanted to be treated like an adult, he needed to act like one.

"Hey... I'm coming in." Matt announced, knocking on the door to the bathroom.

Andy didn't answer, but he could hear the shower running. He turned the knob, slipping into the darkened bathroom. Andy was in the shower, the steam filling the small room.

"How are you feeling?" Matt asked, cracking the glass door to the shower.

Andy had his back to him, the water running over the contours of his body. As much as the man had pissed him off, he couldn't help but get aroused at the sight. Since he'd started taking better care of himself, he'd only gotten more breathtaking. Matt knew better than to say anything and risk the singer's wrath. But he looked better without his bones sticking out as harshly as before.

He turned his head, meeting the guitarist's gaze. "Like I got run over by the bus."

Matt laughed, that seemed about right. "Yeah... you were pretty bad last night."

The singer turned the water off, grabbing his towel from over the door. "What the fuck did I do? I don't remember shit." He groaned, wrapping it around his torso.

"Well, after you consumed almost an entire bottle of whiskey, I cut you off. Then you got mad at me for killing your fun. Then you puked outside the bar and I had to drag you onto the bus. Then you got emotional and passed out." The older man recapped the night.

Andy felt a twinge of embarrassment hearing the play by play. He hadn't meant for it to get so out of control, it just happened. At least he hadn't said anything horrible. That or Matt was leaving it out.