It’s
basically set after the first one I wrote a while ago: The Nick
Leaves The Band For A Little While And Alex Thinks He’s
Pregnant While Bob Becomes The Objection Of Japanese Girls Everywhere
And Paul Eats Bread All The Time Oh, Andy’s In There Somewhere
As Well Fic. It’s just dilly fun
Summary: "I realized that I’m better being in a rock band like this one. We don’t’ need bling, or bitches and hoes, or to be really loud and use techno bass synth drums. The ackuset is just as good. And we don’t need to go around with no underwear on because we have leather and French and German and Italian boots. So I think I’m going to get my guitar and play and …ah, where did Nick go?"
Beta: Lisa
My relationship with Nicholas is complicated, I mean, we're best friends. We're always around each other, and ever since last week's little guitar sex blow-out ( 5 hours straight bitch, who can do it for 5 hours straight? Me and Nick, damn it) things have been a little....um, awkward. Very friendly, but awkward. So when we have a sound check at the house a month later I didn't really want any more complications to get in my life. Loll and behold they do, anyway.
You see, it started out with Paul.
Paul has been incognito recently, he'll come to the concert, play and then disappear backstage. However, by the time we get back stage he is gone. I suppose that was okay, for a while. But then he started missing sound checks completely and not showing up for concerts. Bob and I became worried, and I’m sure Nick would've been too...but, ahem, he's been a little 'spaced out' if you know what I mean, well, at least more spaced out from usual; and I don't mean 'spaced out' in his usual 5 year old boyish type way, but in a 'Wow, this is some good pot' type way. I highly doubt that though, Nicholas was raised a very polite and sensible boy, he'd ask if I wanted to share first.
So, after sitting inside the house for a good half hour at 12 am Paul comes through the door, smiling like a loon and having a bulge in his pants. Oh my, that sounded wrong. But it's huge. Right. Yeah. When he finally realizes that we were staring at him he offers us a half way and then turns around to lock the door. " Where have you been!?" Bob yells, placing his hands on his hip and cocking his head to the side. I think he's been hanging around Nick and Me too much, I swear his pants have gotten a pinch tighter.
"Well, " Paul smiled sheepishly, " You know how I'm into Gansta Rap, right?"
Me and Bob stared at each other, Nick slumped onto my shoulder on the couch sleeping before he shrugged, "Ahem...yeah..."
"Okay, first off I went to go see Busta Rhymes and the rest of the crew because they were throwing a video party for the 'Touch It Remix, you know, the one with like everyone there? It was really cool, Sean Paul taught me how to wine, I know Ester is gonna like that. But, a lot of people thought I was a drug dealer so I ended up leaving easily and went to 50 Cent's after party. So, when I roll up 50 Cent was with his bitches and hoes. See, we got a little rowdy because the Game in in there all unexpected and shite. So they started poppin' gats at each other and then one of the other guys in G-Unit gave me a fake gun and told me to just pretend that I knew how to use it and get my white arse out of there. So when I was running to the door this guy corners me and he's like 'Run your money' and I was like, 'Naw, bitch. Chill, I got a gat.' and he was all 'Right, wigga' and well, I didn't like him calling me a Wigga, so I pulled out my plastic gun, cocked it, shot in into the lamp by accident and than ran. Next week I'm going to hang out with Jay-Z and Kanye West. You know, I didn't know George Bush didn't care about black people..." As Paul talked me and Bob's eyes widened; Nick's got lower, I can’t believe he feel asleep on my shoulder. "Oh, and I talked to the guard of Enimen's, you know, the one that kicked your arse-"
"Hey," I squeak a little bit, " He did not kick my ars-"
"Right. Anyway, I talked to him and he says that thanks to you he got such recognition that he's getting his own sitcom on Fox in September." Paul nods a little bit, pulling his coat off to reveal a golden necklace with a 'P' at the end of it. He had on a track suit, which was a tad too small because I could see his little happy trail leading....well, downwards. He looked a little disheveled as he pulled out the bulge in his pa- ...it was the plastic gun, placed it on the table, stretched and scratched himself before looking at us, blinking. "What's the matter with Nick?"
"Forget about him, you could've got killed!" Bob says this, and he's reaching for his shoe again to throw so I have to reach out and still his hand, " Paul, you need to stop partying-"
"Bitch, it was only one time-"
"One time was all you need, once you go black you never go back. You see what happened to Michael..." Bob trails off and shakes his head, plopping himself down onto the couch besides me and Nick. I raise my eyebrows at him, but even I know the tempting passion that is Rap music. But I can't go around calling people out of their names, bitches, hoes, sluts, or sing about pussy or any of that other bullshit. Yes, I dance to Gold Digger in the confines of my own room, but it's not like I do it on a regular basis. So while I see this situation from Paul's point of view, I knew it was still slightly dangerous.
The rather endowed teeth barer looked at his, scratching his head and sighed, " Fine. I'll cut them loose then."
Bob nodded and I shook Nick off of my shoulder, telling him it was time to go to bed. That was the end of that, right? Now I just had to worry about what the hell was wrong with Nick.
-------------------
The next morning Nick is at the table slowly piling food onto his plate. Pickles, ice cream, chocolate cake and a piece of chicken. In the background '1 Thing' places and I knew Paul did that on purpose because he knows that it's my weakness. When I sit down at the table Nick smiles at me, clear blue eyes, but still sharp before taking a huge spoonful of everything mixed together and chewing. " Sleep good last night?" I asked, reaching for a pickle from his plate. Pregnant my arse, I knew something was up.
"Yeah…kinda." He rubs his eyes while chewing, " I can’t remember what my name is but besides that, I’m okay."
While I looked at him to see if he was joking or not Bob came inside of the room with a hand full of ropes and locks. "Why do have those in your arms?" I snatch a piece of what seems cake and chew for a second, realizing it’s not chocolate but peanut butter. As my face turns green Bob sighs, "Remember the ropes that we put up around Paul’s window to make sure he didn’t escape from it again?"
"Ah-huh." Nick says, raising to follow me to the sink. Does anyone not care that I’m about to throw up!? How could my boyfriend poison me like that!? Granted, he didn’t know I was stealing food from him and- wait, boyfriend? Oh no.
"Well, he chewed through the ropes, smart fucker." Bob sighs, defeated and frowns when he sees me with my head in the sink, " Nick, get him some water. Christ, Alex, you’re skinny enough, don’t throw up."
"He gave me peanut butter!" I cry in the sink, still feeling sick.
"That’s not peanut butter…" Nick trails off, blushing. "That’s soy paste."
I pause before taking my head out the sink," Well, don’t do that-"
"I didn’t do anything…."
I wave Nick off and turn my attention back to Bob, " Wait, he chewed through the rope?"
"Yeah." Bob sits inside of the chair, sticking his finger into Nick’s plate and flinches, " Did that thing just move…?" We all turn to look at the plate before I realize, "Don’t we have another sound check today? Where is he?"
"What part of ‘He chewed through the ropes’ do you not get? He’s gone! I’m gonna kick his arse…" Bob growls and it’s kind of hot, but at the moment I have to turn back to Nick whose playing with the stove again. " Stoppit, you might burn your fingers." Was he doing this for attention? I would hope so, I don’t want a stupid boyfriend. STOP SAYING BOYFRIEND. I need some Advil.
---------------
4 hours after sound check Paul comes in with a sweat band on his head and a pair of green stockings. I do not want to know. Nick is sleeping in the corner again and Bob was pacing around the house before he spots him coming through the door and stalks towards him, ready to hurt him when I step in between him. "Paul, where have you been? This is the second time in a row…"
"IT WASN’T MY FAULT, REALLY." He says this rather loudly, making me and Bob cover our ears and Nick stir in the corner before snoring again.
"Paul, now you don’t have to yell-"
"NO, I CAN’T STOP YELLING, THAT’S HOW I TALK-"
"No, you don’t. Paul, you do not yell so don’t yell at me now-"
"I’M SEARIOUS I REALLY CAN’T STOP YELLI-"
"WHY ARE YOU YELLING AT ME!?!!" Bob yells back, becoming more agitated by the second. I think he’s about to swing again so I stop him, " Bob, you know, I really think that Paul really can’t stop yelling." Bob’s face softens and Paul nods," I TOLD YOU SO."
"Well, where were you?" I asked, rubbing my ears softly. "I thought you said you dropped your rap friends?"
" I DID, AND I ALMOST GOT SHOT BY 50, BUT THAT’S OKAY COS NOW I GOT PEOPLE IN DIFFERENT STATES, BUT THAT’S ANOTHER STORY."
I sighed and squatted down, trying to sit properly on the floor, very far away from Paul so he can’t spit on me or slur and raise my eyebrows. "Okay, go on."
"WELL, YOU KNOW HOW I’M IN TO TECHNO MUSIC, RIGHT?"
Me and Bob look at each other before shrugging, "Yeah…ahem, why?"
"I WAS INSIDE THE CLUB WITH SOME OF THE MEMBERS FROM BURNSIDE PROJECT AND OUT HUD WHEN I BUMPED INTO SOME OF THE MEMBERS OF CUT COPY, SO WE STARTED DANCING AND WE GOT INTO A BRREAK DANCING CONTEST, AND YOU KNOW I LOVE DOING THOSE, SO OF COURSE I HAD TO BE IN. SO IT WAS ME, THIS GUY THAT HIT ON ME IN THE BATHROOM AND THIS GIRL IN A BREAK DANCING CONTEST. SO AT FIRST I WAS LOOSING, BUT TOWARDS THE END THEY PLAYED DO YOU WANT TO AND I WENT ALL OUT, AND I WON. THE ONLY PROBLEM WAS THAT I WAS RIGHT NEXT TO THE SPEAKER AND -"
"That’s why you’re yelling at us." I finish and Paul nods again, " IT WAS GREAT!"
This time Nick does wake up fully and yawns, scratching his stomach and wanders off down the hall towards the bathroom.
"WELL, WHAT THE BLOODY HELL HAPPENED TO YOU NOT GOING OUT ANYMORE AND ACTUALLY SHOWING UP FOR SOUND CHECK?!" Bob yells and I’m pretty sure he’s just yelling because he can. I wander off down the hall and find Nick, who somehow fell asleep on the toilet.
Bless him.
I haul him up, realizing he was still sitting on the seat and guide him back down onto the couch inside the living room where Paul and Bob are still yelling. I cover Nick’s overly warm ears when he stirs and curls himself into my waist.
"I WANT YOU TO STOP GOING OUT!" Bob yells.
"YER NOT MY MOTHER." Paul yells back.
I sigh and snuggle closer to Nick.
"NO, I’M YER DADDY." Bob mocks Paul’s accent and Paul gets angry so he turns around and leaves the flat, slamming the door behind him. We all sigh and blink when he opens the door, picks up his headband that fell off and then slams the door again. Just as Bob is about to open up his mouth the door opens again and Paul checks the lock. "Is the door locked?"
"Eh, I dunno." Bob goes over and looks at the lock on the door. "Step out, close the door and then try and open it when I count to three."
"Okay." Paul closes the door and Bob counts out, about to lock the door, "1...2..."
As soon as he says ‘3’ Paul turns the knob and Bob turns the lock. Paul opens the door again, "NO, ON THREE YOU TURN THE LOCK AND THEN I’LL TRY AND OPEN THE DOOR."
"THAT’S WHAT I SAID!" Bob yells and Paul rolls his eyes, "DO IT AGAIN!"
I watch as Paul steps outside the door and they repeat the same process once more. "3!" Bob says, turning the lock as Paul opens the door. "WHAT’S THE MATTER WITH YOU?"
"YOU SAID THREE, DAMNIT!"
There are certain times in people’s lives when they realize that there is only so much stupidity that one can handle for the day. I have one of those moments after they try for the 5th time….and fail, so I pull Nick up and wander into the bedroom. He’s rather adorable when he sleeps, did I mention that?
------------
A week later Paul shows up with eyeliner and lip gloss on his cheek. We don’t ask, we simply stare. Nick looks at his guitar with a bored expression upon his face, wishing he had an inanimate object to play with and keep himself awake. He plays with the guitar instead. I smile, the last time he got bored and played with the guitar he made the riff for Van Tango. Bob looks at him, biting back whatever he was about to say, and walks off into the corner to go and talk to Nick who doesn’t seem to realize that anyone else is there.
I sigh, for I am the lead singer, so I must go and talk to Paul. It’s in my contract somewhere. "Where were you now?"
Paul coughs, whispering slightly. "You know how I’m in to post -pop emo punk, right?"
I look over at Bob, whose talking about Paul to Nick, whose looking at the floor as if he’s about to pass out. I feel sinful because I sort of pray he would so I could go and skip off and save him and he could fall in love with me and all that sexual tension and ambiguity that we had on stage would turn into something wonderful and magical and we could get married in the countryside somewhere and not break up and fuck with our viewers who have been waiting for us to get married and tell each other that we love each other for 5 years.
…or ahem, something of that sort.
"Yes-"
"So I was hanging out with Pete from Fall Out Boy and asked him why he didn’t wear underwear on tour. So then he told me why and I got scared and went and talked to My Chemical Romance, but they told me that they were going out to dig up graves for inspiration for one of their new songs so I declined politely. Then I ended up backstage at a Panic! At The Disco concert and accidentally got my name changed to Paul! At The Thomson, which isn’t so cool as I thought it would be because it’s a bitch to spell out on checks. Then I went to go and talk to Hawthorne Heights and ask them why were they always screaming in their songs and they told me to go ask Armor For Sleep, which I did, but they just yelled at me and when I went to go and talk to some of the mates from the All American Rejects told me to move along and that I was old." Paul hangs his head down as he says all of this and I almost feel bad for him.
"And you know what I realized, Alex?" Paul asked as he wiped some of the eyeliner away and looked at his guitar propped inside of the corner, collecting dust.
"What?" But I already knew what he was going to say.
"I realized that I’m better being in a rock band like this one. We don’t’ need bling, or bitches and hoes, or to be really loud and use techno bass synth drums. The ackuset is just as good. And we don’t need to go around with no underwear on because we have leather and French and German and Italian boots. So I think I’m going to get my guitar and play and …ah, where did Nick go?"
I pat Paul on the head and turn around to see the spot where Nick was at a few minutes ago empty. Bob is scratching his head all confused and such and the headache that I had has just gotten 100 times more worse.
Summary: "I realized that I’m better being in a rock band like this one. We don’t’ need bling, or bitches and hoes, or to be really loud and use techno bass synth drums. The ackuset is just as good. And we don’t need to go around with no underwear on because we have leather and French and German and Italian boots. So I think I’m going to get my guitar and play and …ah, where did Nick go?"
Beta: Lisa
My relationship with Nicholas is complicated, I mean, we're best friends. We're always around each other, and ever since last week's little guitar sex blow-out ( 5 hours straight bitch, who can do it for 5 hours straight? Me and Nick, damn it) things have been a little....um, awkward. Very friendly, but awkward. So when we have a sound check at the house a month later I didn't really want any more complications to get in my life. Loll and behold they do, anyway.
You see, it started out with Paul.
Paul has been incognito recently, he'll come to the concert, play and then disappear backstage. However, by the time we get back stage he is gone. I suppose that was okay, for a while. But then he started missing sound checks completely and not showing up for concerts. Bob and I became worried, and I’m sure Nick would've been too...but, ahem, he's been a little 'spaced out' if you know what I mean, well, at least more spaced out from usual; and I don't mean 'spaced out' in his usual 5 year old boyish type way, but in a 'Wow, this is some good pot' type way. I highly doubt that though, Nicholas was raised a very polite and sensible boy, he'd ask if I wanted to share first.
So, after sitting inside the house for a good half hour at 12 am Paul comes through the door, smiling like a loon and having a bulge in his pants. Oh my, that sounded wrong. But it's huge. Right. Yeah. When he finally realizes that we were staring at him he offers us a half way and then turns around to lock the door. " Where have you been!?" Bob yells, placing his hands on his hip and cocking his head to the side. I think he's been hanging around Nick and Me too much, I swear his pants have gotten a pinch tighter.
"Well, " Paul smiled sheepishly, " You know how I'm into Gansta Rap, right?"
Me and Bob stared at each other, Nick slumped onto my shoulder on the couch sleeping before he shrugged, "Ahem...yeah..."
"Okay, first off I went to go see Busta Rhymes and the rest of the crew because they were throwing a video party for the 'Touch It Remix, you know, the one with like everyone there? It was really cool, Sean Paul taught me how to wine, I know Ester is gonna like that. But, a lot of people thought I was a drug dealer so I ended up leaving easily and went to 50 Cent's after party. So, when I roll up 50 Cent was with his bitches and hoes. See, we got a little rowdy because the Game in in there all unexpected and shite. So they started poppin' gats at each other and then one of the other guys in G-Unit gave me a fake gun and told me to just pretend that I knew how to use it and get my white arse out of there. So when I was running to the door this guy corners me and he's like 'Run your money' and I was like, 'Naw, bitch. Chill, I got a gat.' and he was all 'Right, wigga' and well, I didn't like him calling me a Wigga, so I pulled out my plastic gun, cocked it, shot in into the lamp by accident and than ran. Next week I'm going to hang out with Jay-Z and Kanye West. You know, I didn't know George Bush didn't care about black people..." As Paul talked me and Bob's eyes widened; Nick's got lower, I can’t believe he feel asleep on my shoulder. "Oh, and I talked to the guard of Enimen's, you know, the one that kicked your arse-"
"Hey," I squeak a little bit, " He did not kick my ars-"
"Right. Anyway, I talked to him and he says that thanks to you he got such recognition that he's getting his own sitcom on Fox in September." Paul nods a little bit, pulling his coat off to reveal a golden necklace with a 'P' at the end of it. He had on a track suit, which was a tad too small because I could see his little happy trail leading....well, downwards. He looked a little disheveled as he pulled out the bulge in his pa- ...it was the plastic gun, placed it on the table, stretched and scratched himself before looking at us, blinking. "What's the matter with Nick?"
"Forget about him, you could've got killed!" Bob says this, and he's reaching for his shoe again to throw so I have to reach out and still his hand, " Paul, you need to stop partying-"
"Bitch, it was only one time-"
"One time was all you need, once you go black you never go back. You see what happened to Michael..." Bob trails off and shakes his head, plopping himself down onto the couch besides me and Nick. I raise my eyebrows at him, but even I know the tempting passion that is Rap music. But I can't go around calling people out of their names, bitches, hoes, sluts, or sing about pussy or any of that other bullshit. Yes, I dance to Gold Digger in the confines of my own room, but it's not like I do it on a regular basis. So while I see this situation from Paul's point of view, I knew it was still slightly dangerous.
The rather endowed teeth barer looked at his, scratching his head and sighed, " Fine. I'll cut them loose then."
Bob nodded and I shook Nick off of my shoulder, telling him it was time to go to bed. That was the end of that, right? Now I just had to worry about what the hell was wrong with Nick.
-------------------
The next morning Nick is at the table slowly piling food onto his plate. Pickles, ice cream, chocolate cake and a piece of chicken. In the background '1 Thing' places and I knew Paul did that on purpose because he knows that it's my weakness. When I sit down at the table Nick smiles at me, clear blue eyes, but still sharp before taking a huge spoonful of everything mixed together and chewing. " Sleep good last night?" I asked, reaching for a pickle from his plate. Pregnant my arse, I knew something was up.
"Yeah…kinda." He rubs his eyes while chewing, " I can’t remember what my name is but besides that, I’m okay."
While I looked at him to see if he was joking or not Bob came inside of the room with a hand full of ropes and locks. "Why do have those in your arms?" I snatch a piece of what seems cake and chew for a second, realizing it’s not chocolate but peanut butter. As my face turns green Bob sighs, "Remember the ropes that we put up around Paul’s window to make sure he didn’t escape from it again?"
"Ah-huh." Nick says, raising to follow me to the sink. Does anyone not care that I’m about to throw up!? How could my boyfriend poison me like that!? Granted, he didn’t know I was stealing food from him and- wait, boyfriend? Oh no.
"Well, he chewed through the ropes, smart fucker." Bob sighs, defeated and frowns when he sees me with my head in the sink, " Nick, get him some water. Christ, Alex, you’re skinny enough, don’t throw up."
"He gave me peanut butter!" I cry in the sink, still feeling sick.
"That’s not peanut butter…" Nick trails off, blushing. "That’s soy paste."
I pause before taking my head out the sink," Well, don’t do that-"
"I didn’t do anything…."
I wave Nick off and turn my attention back to Bob, " Wait, he chewed through the rope?"
"Yeah." Bob sits inside of the chair, sticking his finger into Nick’s plate and flinches, " Did that thing just move…?" We all turn to look at the plate before I realize, "Don’t we have another sound check today? Where is he?"
"What part of ‘He chewed through the ropes’ do you not get? He’s gone! I’m gonna kick his arse…" Bob growls and it’s kind of hot, but at the moment I have to turn back to Nick whose playing with the stove again. " Stoppit, you might burn your fingers." Was he doing this for attention? I would hope so, I don’t want a stupid boyfriend. STOP SAYING BOYFRIEND. I need some Advil.
---------------
4 hours after sound check Paul comes in with a sweat band on his head and a pair of green stockings. I do not want to know. Nick is sleeping in the corner again and Bob was pacing around the house before he spots him coming through the door and stalks towards him, ready to hurt him when I step in between him. "Paul, where have you been? This is the second time in a row…"
"IT WASN’T MY FAULT, REALLY." He says this rather loudly, making me and Bob cover our ears and Nick stir in the corner before snoring again.
"Paul, now you don’t have to yell-"
"NO, I CAN’T STOP YELLING, THAT’S HOW I TALK-"
"No, you don’t. Paul, you do not yell so don’t yell at me now-"
"I’M SEARIOUS I REALLY CAN’T STOP YELLI-"
"WHY ARE YOU YELLING AT ME!?!!" Bob yells back, becoming more agitated by the second. I think he’s about to swing again so I stop him, " Bob, you know, I really think that Paul really can’t stop yelling." Bob’s face softens and Paul nods," I TOLD YOU SO."
"Well, where were you?" I asked, rubbing my ears softly. "I thought you said you dropped your rap friends?"
" I DID, AND I ALMOST GOT SHOT BY 50, BUT THAT’S OKAY COS NOW I GOT PEOPLE IN DIFFERENT STATES, BUT THAT’S ANOTHER STORY."
I sighed and squatted down, trying to sit properly on the floor, very far away from Paul so he can’t spit on me or slur and raise my eyebrows. "Okay, go on."
"WELL, YOU KNOW HOW I’M IN TO TECHNO MUSIC, RIGHT?"
Me and Bob look at each other before shrugging, "Yeah…ahem, why?"
"I WAS INSIDE THE CLUB WITH SOME OF THE MEMBERS FROM BURNSIDE PROJECT AND OUT HUD WHEN I BUMPED INTO SOME OF THE MEMBERS OF CUT COPY, SO WE STARTED DANCING AND WE GOT INTO A BRREAK DANCING CONTEST, AND YOU KNOW I LOVE DOING THOSE, SO OF COURSE I HAD TO BE IN. SO IT WAS ME, THIS GUY THAT HIT ON ME IN THE BATHROOM AND THIS GIRL IN A BREAK DANCING CONTEST. SO AT FIRST I WAS LOOSING, BUT TOWARDS THE END THEY PLAYED DO YOU WANT TO AND I WENT ALL OUT, AND I WON. THE ONLY PROBLEM WAS THAT I WAS RIGHT NEXT TO THE SPEAKER AND -"
"That’s why you’re yelling at us." I finish and Paul nods again, " IT WAS GREAT!"
This time Nick does wake up fully and yawns, scratching his stomach and wanders off down the hall towards the bathroom.
"WELL, WHAT THE BLOODY HELL HAPPENED TO YOU NOT GOING OUT ANYMORE AND ACTUALLY SHOWING UP FOR SOUND CHECK?!" Bob yells and I’m pretty sure he’s just yelling because he can. I wander off down the hall and find Nick, who somehow fell asleep on the toilet.
Bless him.
I haul him up, realizing he was still sitting on the seat and guide him back down onto the couch inside the living room where Paul and Bob are still yelling. I cover Nick’s overly warm ears when he stirs and curls himself into my waist.
"I WANT YOU TO STOP GOING OUT!" Bob yells.
"YER NOT MY MOTHER." Paul yells back.
I sigh and snuggle closer to Nick.
"NO, I’M YER DADDY." Bob mocks Paul’s accent and Paul gets angry so he turns around and leaves the flat, slamming the door behind him. We all sigh and blink when he opens the door, picks up his headband that fell off and then slams the door again. Just as Bob is about to open up his mouth the door opens again and Paul checks the lock. "Is the door locked?"
"Eh, I dunno." Bob goes over and looks at the lock on the door. "Step out, close the door and then try and open it when I count to three."
"Okay." Paul closes the door and Bob counts out, about to lock the door, "1...2..."
As soon as he says ‘3’ Paul turns the knob and Bob turns the lock. Paul opens the door again, "NO, ON THREE YOU TURN THE LOCK AND THEN I’LL TRY AND OPEN THE DOOR."
"THAT’S WHAT I SAID!" Bob yells and Paul rolls his eyes, "DO IT AGAIN!"
I watch as Paul steps outside the door and they repeat the same process once more. "3!" Bob says, turning the lock as Paul opens the door. "WHAT’S THE MATTER WITH YOU?"
"YOU SAID THREE, DAMNIT!"
There are certain times in people’s lives when they realize that there is only so much stupidity that one can handle for the day. I have one of those moments after they try for the 5th time….and fail, so I pull Nick up and wander into the bedroom. He’s rather adorable when he sleeps, did I mention that?
------------
A week later Paul shows up with eyeliner and lip gloss on his cheek. We don’t ask, we simply stare. Nick looks at his guitar with a bored expression upon his face, wishing he had an inanimate object to play with and keep himself awake. He plays with the guitar instead. I smile, the last time he got bored and played with the guitar he made the riff for Van Tango. Bob looks at him, biting back whatever he was about to say, and walks off into the corner to go and talk to Nick who doesn’t seem to realize that anyone else is there.
I sigh, for I am the lead singer, so I must go and talk to Paul. It’s in my contract somewhere. "Where were you now?"
Paul coughs, whispering slightly. "You know how I’m in to post -pop emo punk, right?"
I look over at Bob, whose talking about Paul to Nick, whose looking at the floor as if he’s about to pass out. I feel sinful because I sort of pray he would so I could go and skip off and save him and he could fall in love with me and all that sexual tension and ambiguity that we had on stage would turn into something wonderful and magical and we could get married in the countryside somewhere and not break up and fuck with our viewers who have been waiting for us to get married and tell each other that we love each other for 5 years.
…or ahem, something of that sort.
"Yes-"
"So I was hanging out with Pete from Fall Out Boy and asked him why he didn’t wear underwear on tour. So then he told me why and I got scared and went and talked to My Chemical Romance, but they told me that they were going out to dig up graves for inspiration for one of their new songs so I declined politely. Then I ended up backstage at a Panic! At The Disco concert and accidentally got my name changed to Paul! At The Thomson, which isn’t so cool as I thought it would be because it’s a bitch to spell out on checks. Then I went to go and talk to Hawthorne Heights and ask them why were they always screaming in their songs and they told me to go ask Armor For Sleep, which I did, but they just yelled at me and when I went to go and talk to some of the mates from the All American Rejects told me to move along and that I was old." Paul hangs his head down as he says all of this and I almost feel bad for him.
"And you know what I realized, Alex?" Paul asked as he wiped some of the eyeliner away and looked at his guitar propped inside of the corner, collecting dust.
"What?" But I already knew what he was going to say.
"I realized that I’m better being in a rock band like this one. We don’t’ need bling, or bitches and hoes, or to be really loud and use techno bass synth drums. The ackuset is just as good. And we don’t need to go around with no underwear on because we have leather and French and German and Italian boots. So I think I’m going to get my guitar and play and …ah, where did Nick go?"
I pat Paul on the head and turn around to see the spot where Nick was at a few minutes ago empty. Bob is scratching his head all confused and such and the headache that I had has just gotten 100 times more worse.
