The Rhythm Of Our Lonely Hearts

Chapter Three: Got Not Heart To Break

Chapter Three: Got No Heart To Break

Matt helped the singer into the hotel room, the sunlight peeking through the curtains. It had taken another two hours to get Andy discharged, then another forty-five minutes to fight rush-hour traffic. Jake met them at the hotel, dropping off a duffle bag of Andy's things.

Andy was still in his stage clothes, his body still covered in black paint. The hospital had given him medication to take for the pain which had him pretty out of it.

"You need to take a shower and get all the makeup off," Matt said, guiding the younger man into the bathroom.

"I'm too tired to..." Andy groaned; his eyelids heavy with exhaustion.

"I'll help you... come on." The guitarist started the water, warming it up.

Andy turned around, looking at himself in the mirror. His makeup was smeared, his face pale. He poked at the bandages and gauze wrapped around his torso. The drugs were dulling the pain, creating a comfortable numbness in the singer's mind. The reality of his injuries hadn't fully hit him, nor how close he'd come to death.

He stripped his leather vest off, setting it on the counter. Pulling at the tape holding the bandage together until it fell to the floor.

"Jesus..." Matt muttered under his breath, staring at the deep purple and blue bruises covering the younger man's back and sides.

"Are you going to be okay by yourself? I don't want you falling..." he added, motioning to the running shower.

"I'll be fine..." Andy replied, despite still feeling lightheaded.

"Okay... well just yell if you need help..." Matt wasn't too keen on leaving Andy by himself, but he also knew showering with him would be awkward. And the night had already been stressful enough.

He made his way into the main room, his body feeling worn out and heavy. At least Andy had gotten some sleep at the hospital, the guitarist had stayed awake the whole time. Too anxious to even relax. He couldn't get the sound of Andy's ribs hitting the metal railing out of his head. Seeing him motionless on the floor, not knowing if he was alive, dead, or injured. Their last moment together would have been shouting and arguing. Things could have ended right there, without a chance to make amends.

Matt laid back on one of the beds, closing his eyes. Andy was okay though, the doctors said he hadn't punctured anything. His ribs were shattered but he would heal. As long as he listened to directions and rested, he'd be better in a matter of weeks. Of course, listening to the doctor's orders entailed no drinking or smoking. And absolutely no going on tour until he was healed. Three things that Matt seriously doubted Andy would do.

There was a chance that this could be the wakeup call Andy needed. Almost falling to your death because you were fucked up should be enough. Matt hoped it was.

The older man heard the water cut off, Andy appearing a few minutes later. He'd changed into a pair of sweatpants, his bruises more evident now that he'd washed the paint off. It looked painful; his left side badly swollen.

"I'll help you with the bandages and then I think we both need sleep..."

Andy nodded, carefully laying down on the bed. His breathing was shallow. Even with the medication in his system, deep breaths were uncomfortable.

Matt shifted through the bag of stuff from the hospital, pulling out the gauze and bandages. The singer winced as he wrapped them around his torso, applying too much pressure the first time he tried. Once Andy was bandaged up, he helped him under the covers. Shutting the lights off before climbing into his bed, falling asleep almost instantly.