Chapter 9

"I'd rather feel pain than try to fit in with you anymore
I'll throw it all away, like everybody else…”

The crowd went crazy and was having a blast, their energy surrounding the band and filling the air until breathing got harder – not that in their masks and overalls under the heat of the lamps and running around on stage would make that easy in itself.

Sweat was sliding down on Jim’s spine as he was trying to keep the pace with Mick and Joey and then his sore fingers slipped again. It was the fifth time that night that he fucked up his parts. At least this wasn’t a solo. The audience probably didn’t even notice in their trance, but the band and the guys backstage surely did.

Jim usually didn’t give a damn if he fucked up, just grinned and giggled with a shrug, but this time – thanks to his already messed up mindset – was frustrated and pissed at himself. Disappointment and shame were mixing in him. Of course he liked to play well. This was his life, his passion, the thing that motivated him since that first and last break he’d done from playing the guitar. That one time he tried to get a normal life with a normal job. Well, that didn’t last for long, because that wasn’t his destiny. This was it. Being here on stage in front of a crowd, playing his soul out and giving 200%. Tonight he’d give himself maybe a 60%. He was shit and he knew it without the looks he felt on the back of his head.

He wanted to dig a hole for himself and hide. Jim was right: he was letting the band (and the fans) down. So when the show was finally over, he was the first to march off the stage, his long legs proving to be useful once again. He pushed his guitar in the hand of a tech guy and disappeared backstage to lock himself in one of the showers, take off that fucking mask and overall and clean up.

The show was fucking shit from the view of the singer too. It was one of the rare occasions when he stood on stage slightly illuminated. His vocals were crap and he noticed Jim slipping time after time on his guitar parts. Corey wanted to hurry after his mate and show support but Jim just blasted off stage and left behind everything and everyone. Including Corey, who in his fucked up state felt his heart wretched and rejected. Who cares? He can get drunk by himself as always nowadays while Jim cradles his little bags of coke and pot. The feeling of the pair of black eyes following him was still strong. He had to stop the voices in his head too. So he went to the first shower and changed in record time to fetch a bottle of Jack and kill it behind the buses.

Meanwhile the guitarist had changed into his street clothes after a good long shower and left his shit in the dressing room for the crew to pack up. He wasn’t in the mood. Instead he headed out to town alone, knowing that the buses would go only around dawn. He had a few hours to kill and cool off. Trying to stay “strong” he chose the first pub to drown his sorrows in alcohol instead of finding a quiet corner to smoke some pot or snort a bit of coke to feel better about himself.

He knew that he was probably acting like an asshole, but he needed the alone time in fear of snapping at the others. He didn’t want to do that especially to Corey. Whatever was between them was still standing on shaky grounds and hurting the singer would only push him further away from Jim.

As the tall man was cradling his sixth Jack by a corner table where no one bothered him, he thought that they were going in circles over and over again. Being with Corey was like a fucking rollercoaster ride. He never really liked that as a kid, but got on them so that his friends wouldn’t call him a pussy. He only threw up once. That memory made him grimace, because it reminded him of that morning with Corey in the bathroom. Flexing his lightly throbbing fingers he was staring at them numbly for a while. Glad that for a minute or two no thoughts came to push him lower into his misery. It was fucking refreshing not thinking about anything but the next glass and cigarette for a while.

Sometime during the night a very shitfaced Corey crawled into his bunk and passed out with a loud snoring. Not caring about anything around him till dawn when the bus started to move along with his stomach and both woke him up to reach the toilet and lighten his stomach’s contents. It was a long time ago that he got this wasted... Washing his face in cold water the last night slowly came back to him and made him curse out loud and drop to the floor, punching the tiles.

Behind the busses with his bottle of Jack he got company... And more than just friendly band mate bonding happened between him and Sid... He fucked up everything once again…

Jim didn’t even get to the bunks at dawn minutes before the buses had to leave. He simply crashed on one of the built-in couches. They were more comfortable anyways for his long limbs instead of the bunk he had. It often reminded him of a casket. That was creepy especially after what’d happened to Paul. Shaking off that thought he kicked off his sneakers and took off his denim jacket then turned towards the back of the couch to fall into a drunken sleep. At least this time the moving of the bus wasn’t bothering him.

Yes, it was kinda good for him to go out alone that night. He felt a bit calmer and more collected by the time he headed back to the buses. Okay, maybe the bottle of Jack he’d consumed at that pub had something to do with that, but he felt a bit better about himself and thought that it was safe to head back and be around the others.  Little did he know that that fragile peace of mind wasn’t going to last for too long.

Meanwhile in the bath Corey was on the edge of his sanity. The voices were telling him how much of a worthless shit he was. They were shouting at him that he was a cheater and was ruining now Jim too. Paul killed himself because of his fucking selfish behavior. He is just a burden for all. Everyone gets hurt around him. Look at Jimmy… He was back on drugs and all was falling apart. He is the plague for sure...

As the blaming voices in his head got louder and the visions before his eyes more vivid, he didn't even hear the banging on the door by Mick and Chris or got aware of the razor in his hand and the bleeding little cuts on his left forearm.

***

Oblivious about what was going on in the bathroom, Jim was sleeping soundly, his exhausted body pushing him too deep to wake to any noise or movement around him. He woke hours later because of his bladder. He wasn’t even surprised about being hangover. The bus was still and empty except for him. It was near noon so the others probably went to grab some lunch or something. Jim didn’t mind being alone for a change as he took a piss then washed his face in the now clean bathroom. Rubbing some water on his neck he already felt a bit better.

He got himself one of the last clean mugs and warmed some coffee, not wanting to think just yet. With a cigarette in his mouth and the coffee in his left he climbed off the bus in his sunglasses to give some time for his mind to start working again.

After being practically punched into fainting for his own safety by Mick, the messed up singer was carried to their hotel room and laid to rest with some strong sedatives to numb his brain and let it recover.

The band mates were upset and worried so it didn't take long to find out what happened. Corey got drunk as fuck and the young DJ wanted his share of the frontman behind the buses. Joining the drinking and their flirting from the past he got into the singer's pants and even further. The others decided that it was better to keep quiet about it all and let Corey and Jim figure out their relationship. After all… they have a fucking tour on their hands which requires both a frontman and a rhythm guitarist.

But how Corey fell apart was still something they had to inform Jim about... When he sobers up and shows up sometime...

It took two hours for Jim to put himself back together, but at least he was feeling a bit better and he managed to eat some burgers and fries too before hailing a cab and getting to the hotel with his duffel bag on his back. After checking in and getting a keycard for their room he was wondering what Corey was doing. Getting sober or being on an interview? Jim didn’t remember how they were scheduled since he usually tried to sit them out.

He was about to go to the elevators when he felt a hand lightly slap his arm. Looking over he saw Chris looking up at him with a tense expression. “Thank fuck you’re finally here, Jim…”

“Hey to you too. What’s up?”

“I left you messages, but whatev… Corey kinda fell apart last night in the bus’ bathroom. Mick and I had to sedate him so he wouldn’t keep harming himself. Fuck man, it was bad…”

“Fucking shit!” Jim pressed his eyes shut behind his sunglasses and ran a hand through his long hair. “Thanks man, I’m on my way. I take over from here,” he sighed worried and got into an empty elevator.

“Jim…” he heard Chris’ voice and he turned to look at him. “Keep him together. He’s very fucked up…” he warned him with a strange look, not knowing where to put it. Nodding he pressed the button.

It was dark in their room, but enough light got in for Jim to be able to see. Putting down his stuff and kicking his sneakers off on his way to the bed, he carefully slid next to the sleeping Corey and moved him around until Jim was holding him against his side and chest. “Fuck… I’m so sorry I wasn’t there for you when you needed me the most…” Jim choked on his last word and kissed the singer’s head.

The singer slept from the strong meds till the night. He started to come around to the noise of Clown knocking and talking to Jim about having to go to the stadium in an hour. When Jim closed the door and walked back, the messed up singer was sitting already and scratching along his scarred forearm, making some of the small cuts bleed again while trying to wake up properly. Just looking at his mate and putting his thoughts together, but he couldn't start to actually talk and confess.

“Hey baby, how are you feeling?” Jim sat down on the edge of the bed and gently stopped Corey’s scratching hand to take it in his own. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there to help you. The guys told me what’d happened. I should’ve been there. But I’m here now… I’m also sorry about the way I fucked up last night during the show and for disappearing. I didn’t want to snap at you or anyone else because I was so frustrated with myself and my playing. I just needed a few drinks. I’m sorry,” he repeated, thinking that he should give the singer an explanation for his absence.

“I ordered your banana shake. Please, try to drink it. I don’t want you to faint during the show. I already packed our stuff together,” he murmured, caressing Corey’s hand with his own and gave him a small reassuring smile before leaning in to kiss his cheek gently.

He felt a lump in his throat from all the gentle caring Jim showed towards him, yet he just lost his mind – and pants – drunk and forgot about this man who always had the soft spot in his heart... He really was an awful fuck. Nothing changed. Still the careless obnoxious kid everyone should be better off without. 

He just took the banana shake and sipped on it slowly, nodding to the words of Jimmy. 
“I'm sorry… I didn't want to...” he only could whisper that when Jim helped him to his feet to get going.

At least he should not mess up the gig. He can let Jim kill him after that…

***

Something was strange. It took Jim a little time to notice it. Corey was messed up still, but only those could see it who knew him better. Sometimes Jim wondered how many masks the singer actually had on. But it wasn’t just Corey and his “pulling away” kind of behavior to which sadly Jim was starting to get used to.

It was everyone. Starting with the smug grins Sid sent towards Jim. But he just shook those off, thinking that the DJ had popped a few pills or something. As long as he stayed away, Jim didn’t care. The rest of the band was doing it too. Looking at him strange, nearly pitying. What the fuck? Did he do something stupid while drunk? He couldn’t remember meeting anyone by the time he got back to the bus. Or was this about his playing from last night? Were they worried that he’d fuck up again? Well geez… Jim’s resolve was strong: he was going to be better that night. The balm Corey gave him was starting to finally work and his fingers weren’t so sore anymore, so he thought he was going to be okay tonight.

For now he tried to keep an eye on Corey and linger as close to him as he allowed. Then the lights went down and the intro started. Jim stroked along Corey’s back as he passed him on his way towards his spot on the stage and then the show was on.

That stroke was a trigger in Corey's brain to explode. The show was great in the eyes of the fans. The singer's stage personality took him totally over. Making the rest of the band worry about him. The performance was hyper and raw and beastly like the Iowa days. The howling screaming beast brought the house down for sure.

Going off stage and heading to the shower still on that mindset, passing some grinning and whispering tech guys, Corey could only focus on the rage still working in his veins, the lyrics and how they made him feel and relive so many aching moments in his life, and how to talk to Jim about last night...

The show and its pace were crazy. While concentrating on his playing – luckily his fingers were working better and he only slipped twice – Jim tried to keep an eye on the singer. Corey was overworking himself, letting the beast fully out. Not even Jim’s occasional close presence could soothe him. Although it slightly pissed the tall man off, he tried to ignore the kid, who did one of his kneeling and bowing in front of Corey thing again. But all in all, the show itself was fucking energetic and overwhelming for both the audience and them.

This time Corey was the one who stormed off first, Jim only seeing his back as he disappeared backstage. He’d probably have to center the singer again once they were alone. Thinking about that, this time Jim himself put his guitar back in the case where his babies were lined up. He just made sure she was safe when a fragment of a nearby conversation hit his ears and Corey’s name caught his attention.

“Man, I think Corey was this energetic because he got some from Sid last night,” one of their tech guys said and Jim froze in shock.

“You must be kidding!” the other guy said.

“Nope. I saw it with my own eyes behind the bus. Pants down, cock balls deep in Sid. They were fucking enjoying it, no doubt about that,” he chuckled a bit.

“Damn, Root won’t be happy about it when he finds out… You do know that he’s kinda with Taylor, right?”

“Yeah. It’s not a big secret. Everyone here knows.”

Jim saw red. He couldn’t remember the last time anger flooded his mind like this. Not even when he nearly hit the kid on that corridor. His own beast was still close to the surface and it was roaring inside. Emerging from behind the boxes the two tech guys cursed, but Jim didn’t give a fuck about them. He stormed off and headed right towards their dressing room while fighting to take off his fucking mask on the way. It landed somewhere on the floor as the door banged shut behind him, probably startling the unmasked singer.

“You fucking lying piece of shit.” That was the first thing that rushed out of his mouth on an icy tone. “How long have you been fucking him behind my back?!”

The singer was still on his stage high so for Jim's attack his first instinct was to attack back. 
“From last fucking night when you went out without a fucking word to roll around in your self-pity again. Like allllll is fucking revolving around how the majestic James Root plays on stage ‘cause no one else has no problem at all and no one else can feel worried for you or care for you just yourself!” Corey howled all in one breath, face flushed red and shaking and the second the last sound left his mouth he regretted all of it.

The words were like poisoned daggers shot through Jim, only fuelling his own anger. “Oh look who’s talking, Mr. Can’t Keep It In My Pants when ‘The Majestic James Root’ is not around for one fucking night! You’re such a hypocrite! You keep disappearing on your own to god knows where to wallow in your self-pity while I’m waiting around worried for you like a stupid puppy just to try putting you back together!” Jim shouted back just as good, not caring if anyone heard them through the thin walls. “I was fucking finally getting better and I have to learn that you not just lost it while cutting yourself but you fucked that stupid kid too? Way to show your worry for me, Corey!”

“What the actual fuck do you know about that? Huh? I never pity myself. Did you ever really get to know me during all these years of working together and being so close and you being ‘in love’ with me??? I. NEVER. PITY. MYSELF. I HATE MYSELF, YOU FUCKING IDIOT!!!” the singer shouted by then as his huge voice could bear it. His body was trembling as he pulled off and threw the bathrobe on the floor, his fair, almost pinkish skin just came out of the hot shower, making all the faded scars all over him highlighted, as well as light purple lines here and there. “FUCKING WHEN WAS I NOT CARING ABOUT YOU??? I WAS TRYIN’ TO BEAR MYSELF AND NOT DRAG YOU INTO THIS SHIT THAT IS ME AND WHAT I AM!”

And that was where the entire band got into the dressing room and tried to keep the two lovers from jumping at each other.

Anger was still coursing through his veins as Corey’s loud voice was ringing in his ears, but before he could say anything else, the door burst open and he found himself being held back by Mick. As he looked around, he saw a kinda shocked Sid standing there too. He was lucky Mick had a vice grip across his chest, but Jim could still point a finger at Sid and shout angrily. “YOU! Get the fuck out, you little backstabbing shit! GET OUT!”

They probably never saw Jim in such a rage, but he didn’t care. He had to focus his anger and pain on someone and the kid was the perfect target now.

“THE BOTH OF YOU SHUT THE FUCK UP AND STOP ACTING LIKE FUCKING KIDS!” they heard Clown’s bellow. Jim could’ve sworn that the room shook from it. Now that got everyone’s attention and all eyes jumped at Shawn’s fucking pissed form.

“YOU GET OUT, SID!” Shawn pointed to the door then turned back to the mates. “You two! How dare you two try to fuck up the band I and Paul formed? How the fuck can you both be so selfish to not care about his legacy and anyone other than your fucking love life? Shut the fuck up and solve it all till the morning or go the fuck back home with the first plane. Now get dressed and out before all the press gets here and stir more shit!” and with that Clown stormed out, slamming the door. The others followed slowly, mumbling such things as “really sort it out”, and “don’t be stupid” as they left.

Corey turned away, he couldn't hold back his sobbing and he got dressed while the only sounds were his hiccups and sniffing mixed with occasional low whimpers as all the frustration and Shawn’s words were working inside him.

Jim hid behind his hair as he hung his head low, taking deep breaths in an attempt to calm himself down. Shawn was right. This got way out of hand and in their anger they said some pretty awful shit to each other. If they wanted to continue – both staying in the band and their relationship – they had to try working on this.

Rubbing his filthy face and stroking his hair back Jim looked at Corey’s back. Fuck, Jim hated it when the singer was crying like that. Especially if it was his fault. Why the fuck couldn’t they just be happy? Why did they both have to continuously fuck things up not just for each other but for everyone else? This tour was already hard in itself without their additional drama and trying to figure out how to deal with all of this…

“I’m gonna wash up. Meet me back in the hotel room. We have to talk,” Jim murmured much softer, but didn’t dare to go to Corey. Not this time. He was still pissed and hurt and his demons were trying to crawl out of their holes too. Instead he grabbed his regular clothes and closed the bathroom door on himself to take a quick shower. And if some silent tears mixed into the water too, no one could call him on it.

Part 2

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