On With The Show

18

Mick held back a groan as he re-entered the room. Nikki and Vince were sitting in silence - granted, it was a step up from before, but it didn't exactly make him hopeful for the band's future. Especially considering they were all too damn young to understand the gravity of the situation. Yes, he'd picked up on how close Nikki was to Tommy, how alienated Vince felt even with them, and their passion, but none of that was enough. Nikki's inner child was violent, Tommy's wide-eyed and energetic and Vince's an outcast. In the end, he realized, all three of them were ruled by  their inner child.

"I thought about it. And I want in - if you three will put in the time and effort, I'll do the same. No more fucking band politics, got it?" He said, looking at each one of them in turn. As expected, Tommy chipped in with an enthusiastic nod first, Nikki took a long drink of Jack and looked at Tommy before nodding, and Vince sighed and muttered something along the lines of 'Fuck these assholes but fine'.

Looking back, he probably should have mentioned something.

"And whatever stupid rockstar shenanigans you do, don't expect me to be on board. My back kills me enough already, and I've got a boyfriend to get home to."

Vince's head snapped up.

"Before any of you say something stupid, let me just say that you will not find a better guitarist than me anywhere on this strip. So sure, if you want to let that get in the way, go ahead."

Vince looked him in the eye. "That's not what I was going to say," He said, seeing Nikki basically unfazed by Mick's words. "I - uh - I've got something to say too."

*

And just like that, three sets of eyes were on him. Tommy looked encouraging, Nikki looked mildly irritated that he wasn't the one talking and Mick looked... Well, nobody could really tell what Mick was thinking. About anything.

Now or never, right? And it looked like 'never' wasn't really an option, considering he lived next door to tweedle dumb and tweedle dumber, for whom "Motherfucker give me som goddamn privacy" wasn't a demand so much as a suggestion.

"There's only one way to put this," He said, suddenly feeling the rush of confidence he'd felt a mere two seconds back fade away. His voice was stuck inside his throat, and he couldn't breathe. 

"I'm trans."

No response from the moody, raven haired members. Not really a surprise, he'd had to explain it a million times before people got it before. Tommy gave him a small smile, a welcome change from the confused expression on Nikki and Mick's faces.

"Basically, my body doesn't reflect who I am properly. No, it's not a case of 'I should  be fuckin' ripped but I'm not' - it's a real thing. I'm a guy, but I was born in the body of a girl. I never connected with this body, and I'm never going to. It feels like it's alien to me, and hold back your negative comments if you know that's good for you," He winced slightly at the anger that left his mouth, before forcing himself to calm down once again. He breathed in shakily. "It's not who I am. It's why I always wear a slightly baggy shirt. While that does cover up... The You Know Whats, I still feel sick whenever I feel it on myself. Before you ask, yes, I have found a way to stop the time, birth control pills work great for that. For the last month or two, at least. And fine, if I'm out of your precious band, so be it, I don't need you anyhow, I can find another in seconds."

Nikki was the first one to speak up, much to Vince's surprise. "As much friction as there's been, I'm not kicking you out of the band," He said, shocked by Vince's confession. Mick just nodded in agreement, face still blank but Vince could have sworn he saw a hint of encouragement on it.

Before Vince could react Tommy had pulled him into a bone-crushing hug. "I'm so proud of you, V," He said in his ear as the singer awkwardly hugged back.

"Need my lungs, Tommy, can't sing without them."

Vince let out a laugh, relieved more than anything else. As much bravado as he had, he was near-certain that he couldn't find another band as easily as he'd said he could. 

Nikki looked at Mick, "What's your boyfriend's name?"

"What's it to you?"

Tommy laughed, "You sound like my gran. Speaking of, how old are you, Mick?"

"Fuck you, you fucking teenager."

A grin broke out on the drummer's face, before he got up and smacked Nikki on the shoulder. Mick didn't have to pay attention to hear the words "This dude is legit," Tossed around.

He smirked, tuning his guitar up again and glancing over at the singer, before putting it down.

*

Mick took a long drag of the cigarette he held between his lips, seeing the tension radiate slowly off Vince's shoulders. He reached into his pockets, snarling when he felt the bottle of painkillers was nearly empty. Brilliant, as if he wasn't broke enough as it was.

"Back later, I saw a payphone here..."

He needed John. Without him, Mick would go fucking mad...

Feeling around in his pockets  for a coin, he smiled when he felt it. He had a minute on his hands - he'd better make the right use of it. He sighed, stepping out of the apartment and walking fast as he could to the payphone, inserting the coin.

...36...24...36...

The dial tone rang, as he clutched the phone desperately, the cold plastic so different from the warmth of John Corabi's hands, that Mick craved so desperately right then.

"Hello, John Corabi," Said the voice that felt rich as molasses to Mick - smooth, yet still deep.

"Babe..."

"Mick! Hey, what's going on? I know you've only got a minute..."

"Do we have any extra cash? I'm out of meds... Again..."

Mick could almost hear the sigh in John's voice. "I thought you stopped using booze to down them, how are you out already?"

"AS is fucking killing me, Corabi," he hissed, "I can't go too long without the meds, you know that."

Another sigh.

"I'll see if I can get the pharmacy to give it to us cheap, I know one of the stockboys..."

The minute was over, and the line went dead.

Mick hated everything about that. John shouldn't be forced to work a shitty part time job at a packaging factory to pay for Mick's pills, especially not while Mick went on wild goose chase after wild goose chase trying to find a band that likely wouldn't make it...

"Shit." His hand was cramping up - his knuckles were white already. He loosened the near deathgrip he had on the phone, before hanging it up again. Letting out a slight groan, he turned around and walked back to the apartment building. He was in the band now, no turning back.