I Won't Give Up On You

"I miss you Oliver." Tom said sadly, looking into his brothers brownish green eyes.

Oliver chuckled, "I'm sitting right here Thomas."

Tom sighed, "You aren't who you use to be Oli, why? What is so different that you can't come to me when you need help? I miss you being my brother, because lately you haven't even talked to me. I know she's gone, but you've gotta move on.. It wasn't your fault." He added to the end, watching as Oli's face dropped.

"She.. I just, it was my fault Tom. My name was written in every line of the fucking suicide note. Not spelled out, but every reason had my name all over it. I don't want this anymore, none of it.. I can't even go out on stage without thinking about her. Sure, the song is supposed to help me out of this dark shit hole, but it isn't. I'm stuck here, captivated with the one last image I had of her on the floor of her own fucking flat." He trailed, his face shifting through emotions.

Tom wanted to comfort Oli, but he didn't know what to say. He hugged Oli, rubbing small circles into his back like their mum used to do. "Its not your fault." He repeated, hoping Oliver would start to believe him. The singer started to sob, and Tom closed his eyes. He wanted in some way to be there for Oliver, more than he was. But he could only do it if Oli let him. "What..what is the thing you do that numbs the pain?" He asked, remembering Matt was beginning to tell him about it.

Oli looked up, fear washing over his face. "I," he started, but choked on his own sobbing. Tom could tell Oli didn't want to tell him. But he needed to know so he could help him. "Oliver just tell me. Matt was going to, but wouldn't you rather tell me yourself?" He questioned, hoping Oli would take the bait.

Oliver looked up, his eyes wet with tears. He never wanted to look like a pussy, especially not in front of Tom. But he was an emotional mess - drunk and tired, but needed this talk with Tom. He looked down at his feet, then lifted up his pant legs. He exposed the deep cuts carved on the inside of his leg.

Tom followed Olivers hands, watching him roll up the pant legs. He wanted to scream and yell at the top of his lungs at Oli, and tell him that he should stop. But he stayed silent, locked in his own thoughts. Oli pointed to the blank spot, exposing the few cuts that filled the space. Tom let his finger tips graze the cuts, his face falling. "Oli please, this needs to stop. Its dangerous, just think of her. What you wrote about her Oliver. 'you can't stand on two fucking feet with a substance as a crutch.'" He told him, letting himself go. "Oliver..please." He begged, hoping Oli would promise to put an end to it.

The screamer looked up, not sure what to say. "Tom I can't do that. I rely on it.." He said, then realized how much he sounded like her. He shook his head, "I'll try." He gave in, hoping he could do it.

Tom hugged Oli once more, glad to have him back. "Thats my brother." He said softly, then helped Oliver to his bunk. After Tom passed out on the couch, the rest of the band returned in their wasted behaviors, being loud. The bus grew quiet as they all fell asleep.

***

Matt was awake early in the morning as always. He'd fallen asleep trying not to listen in on Tom and Oli's conversation. It was hard, but he finally feel asleep. He knew that Oli had been having a hard time lately. Matt just wished that Oli would stop himself before he went too far.

Matt made coffee, looking out the large tinted windows of the tour bus. Tom was asleep on the couch like always, Lee sleeping on the floor. He understood that Tom didn't have a bunk, but Lee did. He simply chuckled and looked back out the window. The area outside looked like a hotel parking lot. Finally, they'd get to be off the fucking dreadful bus. He finished his coffee, looking for a hoodie in his bag.

Fog surrounded him as he stepped from the bus, hands instantly reaching for the cigarettes in his pack pocket. He needed a smoke, and some time to himself before the long show. Good thing tour ended in a few weeks, because he was growing tired too.

***

By the end of the day, everyone was exhausted. With two more songs to play, the band stood on stage. Oli felt almost as if he wouldn't make it through the night. He couldn't sing one whole verse without gasping for air. He was weak, weaker than he ever wanted to be. The songs went by slowly, getting harder and harder to spit out in the right tune.

By the last line, Oli was done. His voice faded away, and nothing came out when he was screaming into the mic. They finished the song, and he threw the mic down as he always did, just trying to make it off stage without passing out. Matt helped him into the lounge area before he let himself pass out on the too-comfortable couch.