Unison

The floor we're laying on smells like dirt and dust, but I don't particularly care. I dribble a bit of beer down my chin as I take a sip in my laying down position, and wipe it with the back of my hand. When I turn to Alex, he's got his eyes closed, his purple beanie doubling as a pillow. "They're dating you know," I slur to him.

His eyes open and he stares up at the ceiling. I'm not sure what's up there that he's looking at, but it must be something pretty interesting. "What?"

"Christine."

"Oh."

"I miss him," I admit, sighing and abandoning my now empty bottle back in it's place in the now empty cardboard pack. "I think I'll call him."

Alex remains silent as I reach up onto the couch to feel for my phone. I find his instead and scroll through his contacts, fumbling with the touch screen a bit, hitting a couple wrong buttons, before finding his name. I hit the call button and wait as the line rings until he picks up.

"Hey, Alex," he says. It feels so good to hear his voice like this and for a moment, in my drunken state, it's easy to imagine that things are the way they were before. There's a big difference between hearing someone's voice when they're saying goodbye and hearing they're voice over the phone. The line doesn't provide the same type of intimacy, but it doesn't feel like good-bye anymore.

When I realize I haven't responded, I stammer for a split seconds before replying, "hello."

"Maddy? Who is this?" There's a lot of noise in the background and it's sort of hard to hear him. "Hold on." I hear a door close and then it's just him on the other end. Him and me.

"Maddy," I tell him.

There's silence and I would have thought that maybe he hung up if I couldn't hear his uneven breathing. It's probably freezing outside although my whole body feels warm and nice. "Are you drunk?"

I laugh and look over to Alex, who's watching this all play out. I smile at him. "He asked me if I was drunk," I explain.

"Maddy." Tony's voice, such a serious tone, brings me back to him. I forget about Alex and focus my all of my alcohol-altered brain on Tony.

"Yes?"

"Where are you?"

"Why does it matter?" I ask, suddenly becoming angry that he even cares. He didn't care before, and that was obvious. He didn't want to see me again.

"I want to know where you are. Who's with you?"

"Alex."

"Are you on the All Time Low bus?"

"Yes. Can you come?"

Another pause. It's easy to forget that I'm even talking to him, if it wasn't for his breathing, still audible.

"I need you to drive her home, man," Alex says from beside me, loud enough for Tony to hear.

"Alright. I'll be right there."

"You're coming?" When he doesn't answer after several seconds, I realize he must have hung up. "He's coming," I say, turning back to Alex and sliding the phone onto his chest. "He's coming to see me."

Alex doesn't reply and the phone begins a long, drawn out beeping to tell us that I had forgotten to hang up correctly. Alex does it for me and then rubs his eyes with the side of his fists.

"Tony's driving me home?"

"I guess so."

We fall quiet as we wait for Tony's appearance. I'm not sure how long it takes him, but it feels like forever. I begin to grow anxious, sort of wishing I hadn't drunk so much so I could really talk to him. I'm drifting off into my own thoughts, realizing I've never drunk this much before, I've never been this drunk. I allow my eyes to close, losing the battle finally. It isn't until Tony's standing over me, looking down, his long hair framing the side of his face, that I'm brought out of a half-asleep state.

"Oh, hey."

"Can you get up?"

I attempt to stand but it's useless. When he sees this, he offers me a tattooed hand for help. It takes a little while, but when I'm on my feet, I collapse back into the couch. I can't help but to laugh. "Oops."

Alex stands, making me realize that he either didn't drink as much as me or he's not so much of a light weight. Maybe my body's just not used to the alcohol. We rarely drink often back home.

Tony sighs as he looks at me, the corner of his mouth pulled down into a frown. I don't know why he's looking at me like that, but it makes me pretty upset. I cross my heavy arms against my chest and let myself melt back into the couch. "Just leave me here then."

Tony offers me another hand, but he won't look at me. "Let's go."

He's wearing a red snap back with a black bill backwards. It sits a little crooked on his head. I reach up to touch it, but he grabs my hand instead. "Let's go," he says again.

Leading me out of the bus, down the steps, the sidewalk and into the car is a bit of a challenge, but it's fine. It's more time with Tony. It's been so long since I've held his hand and I silently curse at myself for drinking so much. I can't really enjoy this while I'm drunk. I feel like I've cheated myself. I can't see the tattoos over his olive-toned skin clearly. I can't look into his eyes without them being fuzzy. "Fuck."

He gets into the driver's side without saying a word. It isn't until we're on the highway that he speaks. "I'm surprised Alex let you get this trashed."

"Chill out," I tell him, reaching over and placing a hand on the arm he's resting on the center console. He pulls away. "Ouch." Something speaks out directions and I move away from him, letting my head role to face out the window at the darkness passing quickly by us. "You got mean since I last saw you."

"You last saw me a couple hours ago," he reminds me.

"You know what I mean."

He sighs again and I hear a ticking as the car slows. "Are you going to be alright here by yourself for the night?"

"I don't have a choice, do I?" I laugh and look over at him. I can see his dermal although the car is dark. He turns the engine off and we must have reached the house.

"Alex should have come and stayed with you for a little while," he says, and I swear there's a hint of regret in his voice. "Ah, well."

He gets out and comes over to my side, opening the door for me and helping me out. He allows me to lean on him a bit as he walks me to the door. "Where's the key?" he asks after trying the handle of the door and seeing that it's locked.

"Ah...."

He reaches into the pocket of my jacket and pulls out my set of keys, left to try any of them that might be the right one. He gets it after a while, opening the door to the dark kitchen. He leads me in, leaving the door open behind us as he holds me with both his hands so I don't fall. He goes right down the hall and opens a couple wrong doors before finding my bedroom and taking me inside to the bed.

"Alright," he says once I'm sitting, leaning up against the wall my bed's pushed up against. "I'll see you around."

"That's it?" There's clear disappointment in my voice. "Shit."

I get up off the bed as quickly as I can. Tony steps back, surprised, not knowing really what to do. Some of the alcohol in my stomach comes up before I reach the bathroom, splattering onto the edge of the sink. I know I drank too much. When I'm done, I wait a couple seconds before washing my face and brushing my teeth. Feeling a little more sobered up now, I'm scared Tony's going to leave while I'm gone. The thought makes me feel like I'm going to get sick again.

I try to finish up quickly, but end up just getting water all over my shirt and the sink counter. I leave my face wash and clothe on the edge of the sink, not wanting to waste time on putting them back where they belong. I walk right into him when I open the door up, thanks to the small amount of space in the hallway.

"Sorry," I say, sleepiness hitting me. I feel like I can't keep my eyes open, but I want to. I don't know when, or if, I'll see him again. "Sorry about throwing up, too."

He shrugs his thick shoulders. The same shoulders I used to wrap my arms around. "It's fine. Happens to the best of us."

"I should probably clean up." But my body screams no and I don't think my feet will let me walk, really. The hall is narrow and Tony and I are so close, just a foot away, even though he's leaning up against the opposite wall, hands in the pockets of his jacket. I wish he'd take them out. I always loved his hands. He gives me a small smile and looks away, breaking our eye contact.

"I should probably get going." He doesn't move.

"Yeah. Don't want to miss bus call."

He laughs, and it's the first time I've heard that all night from what I can remember. I can't really remember what happened after the show. My brain isn't working right. All I can really think is Tony. Tony's standing right here with me in this hallway and I don't know if I'm going to see him again.

"Will I see you again?" I ask, but the sound doesn't seem like it's coming from me. It's hard to believe that it's my voice, that small and vulnerable before him after what I did. I'm a fucking idiot. My eyes are so blurry that it can't just be the alcohol. They're stinging as I hold back the tears that fill them up so much that I can't help but to let them spill over a little.

"Fuck, Maddy. Why do you have to do this?" He's angry. I can tell he's angry. I'm a fucking idiot.

"I'm sorry," I tell him, my voice uneven and still a little slurred. "I'm sorry," I say again to make it sound more confident and sure, but it's not. I want him to realize what it is that I'm really apologizing for.

Maybe I shouldn't have gone backstage. Maybe I should have just gotten back on the bus and stayed there until Alex could bring me back home. I shouldn't have gotten so drunk. I'm making a fool of myself.

"I have to go," he says again, but this time he turns a cold shoulder to me. I remain in the same spot and watch until he reaches the end of the hall and turns into the kitchen, heading for the door without even looking back once. My heart breaks in half when I hear the car start up and the sound of him pull, quickly, out of the driveway.

Tony's POV
Instead of going back to the bar to hang out with everyone else, I go back to the bus. Maybe I should have stayed with her, just to make sure she'd be okay for the night. I mean, bus call isn't until five and I still have hours. I don't want to drink anymore then I did after seeing Maddy. I just want to go to sleep.

But I can't, so I call Christine instead. I know she probably won't be asleep, and if she is, then I'd be risking waking her up by calling. I'm too selfish to care.

"Baby!" she exclaims, sort of weakly, on the second ring. "Doesn't sound like you're still out with everyone."

I laugh a little too myself. She sounds so cheery despite everything. I can't help but to admire her for that. "I'm not. I decided to go back to the bus. I'm really worn out," I lie, but I can't really tell her the truth, can I?

"Get some sleep," she says, "I'll talk to you in the morning." Her laughter fills my ear and I smile as it rings out. "Afternoon I mean, since someone doesn't wake up until passed noon now."

"Hey!" I say defensively, but there's laughter in my voice. "How are you feeling?"

There's a pause before she sighs, feminine and sweet. "I'm in the hospital, sweety. The treatment isn't working. They didn't realize until they did some x-rays."

My stomach sinks and I feel like I'm going to throw up. I get up from my bunk and begin to pace the bus, not being able to sit still. "Why didn't you call me?"

"I didn't want you to worry about me," she says, her voice small. I feel bad for yelling and I feel bad for being angry, but I can't help it.

"I'm sorry. I just wished you told me when this happened. When did they admit you?"

"Yesterday," she admits. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you."

"It's fine, baby." I run an anxious hand over my hair, pushing it away from my face. "Keep me updated. I love you."

"I love you, too. Go to bed, okay?"

I assure her that I will and we hang up so she can get to sleep as well. Sleep fights cancer and it doesn't hurt like that fucking serum they push through her hoping that it'll keep her alive. That fucking fucked up mix that they think is going to help her but really just keeps us both up at night. The stuff that makes it so I can't even use the same fucking bathroom as her half the time so it doesn't poison me.

What would make them think it's good for her if it'd do something that harmful to a healthy person? She's too delicate, too fragile for her body to be made up of this cancer.

And she's back in that place again. The white walls, hardly anything cheery in there. Lots of people coughing, lots of people walking up in down the hallways, attached to different machines that pump life through their veins, their only hope, really. "Fuck!" I yell, throwing an angry fist into the air. I miss the wall by centimeters. I toss my phone onto the counter and grit my teeth.

I rip my hat off my head and throw it angrily against the wall, letting it hit with a loud smack before falling to the floor. Stage IV replays over and over again in her doctors voice as I pace. Stage IV, it spreads to the brain, and there's no going back from there.