Nine
The Nightmare
Corey did show up the next day - hung over, but in a good enough state to sing (just about). Anders hadn't been happy, but that didn't surprise anyone. Joey supposed that he'd have been pissed off too and more than enough so to quit. Perhaps not with the song and dance that Anders made, but that's the thing about frontmen; they're there to put on a show.
It's been over a year since then, and the final line up of no less than nine members has been finalised. Supposedly at least - Joey wouldn't be all that surprised if Shawn announced the addition of a string quartet or something equally stupid to the band. How a string quartet would fit in Joey can't imagine, but it would be quite cool being in a band of thirteen.
Mind you, that isn't saying that he wouldn't protest strongly if Shawn did try and implement any more members. Nine is more than enough to try and fit in these two stuffy, fucking revolting vans. It's already reached the point where Joey would be willing to kill someone, just to get the numbers down.
It's Jim, Corey, Chris, Craig and himself in one van; Shawn, Mick, Paul and Sid in the other. Even if he is in the the vehicle with the higher number, at least the other four sharing with him have some form of sanity. You couldn't pay him enough money to share with both Mick and Shawn.
That said, he knows the others a lot more than he does this bunch. They're by no mean strangers - it'd be impossible for that to be the case after these last few weeks - but Joey's hardly the most forthcoming of people and he finds himself often excluded from conversations because of it. He doesn't know for certain what any of these guys think of him but he's pretty certain he comes across as aloof. After all, his long daydreams often end in him completely ignoring the others unintentionally. So in turn, they exclude him. Even if that wasn't the case, he's yet to decide exactly he feels towards them.
Jim and Chris are both relatively new additions to the band, and the drummer hasn't warmed to them. Craig never seems to speak, even if he comes across as a nice guy. And Corey's just infuriating. Loud, boisterous, and unable to keep himself to himself; whilst he's approachable, he's also annoying.
It's only when the singer's asleep that this isn't the case, as Joey's discovering now. Craig's driving and the van is silent, bar the radio playing some soft, classic rock as the soundtrack to this scene. The engine has faded to the back of Joey's mind to the point where he'd probably find it harder to relax without its hum.
All is peaceful, and he's idly watching Corey's face as it's illuminated in short bursts by the orange street lights flashing overhead. He and Jim are sprawled out on the back bench, whilst Chris is huddled up in the passenger seat. This leaves Joey free to take up the entire middle seating; his short legs are resting along the cracked leather upholstery. He's slouched against the hard side of the van, and staring idly at the man behind him.
What he's doing may be slightly creepy, but Joey doesn't care. He aims for that anyway. Besides, this is the first chance he's had to really study the frontman's appearance. He probably knows the mask that Corey wears better than the man's real face.
Joey's now discovering that the singer is not unattractive by any means. There are some strange scars litter around his eyelids and brows, which the drummer doesn't want to think about too hard. His lips are permanently chapped, and his cheeks are hollowed in a way that would imply that the guy doesn't eat half of what he should do. That doesn't mean he's not got a nice face, however. It's definitely masculine, but appealing in that respect.
Even if his head is far too small for his neck.
He's not scary like some of the others are, and he doesn't look overly 'metal', despite the blond dreadlocks sprouting from his skull. All in all, he's not a bad looking person.
As he thinks this, Joey remembers the first time they met, and prayed that the other man would never discover this particular enlightenment of his.
He sits back in his seat and drags his eyes away from the singer. He should probably get some sleep himself after all. No sooner has he done this though, than his gaze comes to rest on Corey again. It's not to stare at him this time though. All is silent for another few seconds, then the older man emits a small sound of distress. It could just be the angle that his right leg is at - sticking out to the side, and twisted under Jim's body - but Joey guesses that it's due the singer's dreams.
Taut lines have etched themselves around his closed eyes and his mouth is turned down in an unhappy line. That handsome face suddenly looks as though the man's in pain.
Joey hesitates a moment, then reaches back to jab his finger into Corey's side.
The singer twitches violently and it's a miracle Jim doesn't wake up too. Joey hesitates before prodding him again and bringing Corey back into consciousness.
He seems confused when he comes round; blinking rapidly and looking around the dark interior of the van, before his eyes find Joey.
"You ok, man?" The drummer whispers.
Corey's eyes are wide - the pupils swallowing the blue irises - and he doesn't seem to see the man before him. There's something in those orbs that are terrified, and Joey wonders what nightmares still lie in front of them.
Before he can say anything else though, the moment passes and the singer's finally focused on him.
"You ok?" He repeats. It's all he can think to say.
Corey nods slowly. "I'm fine. Nightmare." His voice is equally low.
"I guessed." Joey replies.
"Thanks for waking me up." The dreadlocked man shifts, easing out the stiffness he's acquired in slumber. "Could have gotten embarrassing."
The drummer just shrugs. "What were you dreaming about?"
Corey's face instantly closes up, and Joey knows that he's overstepped the line of their tenuous friendship.
"It's nothing," He insists, but a hand unconsciously creeps up to rub at a scar on the side of his neck. The small movement answers more than a straight reply would have ever done.
"Ok, then." The drummer lets the conversation drop, but carries on watching Corey as he adjust his limbs to a more comfortable position. Jim snorts in protest every time he's disturbed, but doesn't wake.
"Take a photo." The blond man says eventually, flipping his hood up. "It'll last longer."
Joey snorts, but looks away anyway. He pushes the earbuds of his Walkman into place, and turns Kiss on. As he settles back, deciding to finally try and get some sleep for himself, he glances forward out the windscreen.
The clock on the dashboard reads 01:25.
It's been over a year since then, and the final line up of no less than nine members has been finalised. Supposedly at least - Joey wouldn't be all that surprised if Shawn announced the addition of a string quartet or something equally stupid to the band. How a string quartet would fit in Joey can't imagine, but it would be quite cool being in a band of thirteen.
Mind you, that isn't saying that he wouldn't protest strongly if Shawn did try and implement any more members. Nine is more than enough to try and fit in these two stuffy, fucking revolting vans. It's already reached the point where Joey would be willing to kill someone, just to get the numbers down.
It's Jim, Corey, Chris, Craig and himself in one van; Shawn, Mick, Paul and Sid in the other. Even if he is in the the vehicle with the higher number, at least the other four sharing with him have some form of sanity. You couldn't pay him enough money to share with both Mick and Shawn.
That said, he knows the others a lot more than he does this bunch. They're by no mean strangers - it'd be impossible for that to be the case after these last few weeks - but Joey's hardly the most forthcoming of people and he finds himself often excluded from conversations because of it. He doesn't know for certain what any of these guys think of him but he's pretty certain he comes across as aloof. After all, his long daydreams often end in him completely ignoring the others unintentionally. So in turn, they exclude him. Even if that wasn't the case, he's yet to decide exactly he feels towards them.
Jim and Chris are both relatively new additions to the band, and the drummer hasn't warmed to them. Craig never seems to speak, even if he comes across as a nice guy. And Corey's just infuriating. Loud, boisterous, and unable to keep himself to himself; whilst he's approachable, he's also annoying.
It's only when the singer's asleep that this isn't the case, as Joey's discovering now. Craig's driving and the van is silent, bar the radio playing some soft, classic rock as the soundtrack to this scene. The engine has faded to the back of Joey's mind to the point where he'd probably find it harder to relax without its hum.
All is peaceful, and he's idly watching Corey's face as it's illuminated in short bursts by the orange street lights flashing overhead. He and Jim are sprawled out on the back bench, whilst Chris is huddled up in the passenger seat. This leaves Joey free to take up the entire middle seating; his short legs are resting along the cracked leather upholstery. He's slouched against the hard side of the van, and staring idly at the man behind him.
What he's doing may be slightly creepy, but Joey doesn't care. He aims for that anyway. Besides, this is the first chance he's had to really study the frontman's appearance. He probably knows the mask that Corey wears better than the man's real face.
Joey's now discovering that the singer is not unattractive by any means. There are some strange scars litter around his eyelids and brows, which the drummer doesn't want to think about too hard. His lips are permanently chapped, and his cheeks are hollowed in a way that would imply that the guy doesn't eat half of what he should do. That doesn't mean he's not got a nice face, however. It's definitely masculine, but appealing in that respect.
Even if his head is far too small for his neck.
He's not scary like some of the others are, and he doesn't look overly 'metal', despite the blond dreadlocks sprouting from his skull. All in all, he's not a bad looking person.
As he thinks this, Joey remembers the first time they met, and prayed that the other man would never discover this particular enlightenment of his.
He sits back in his seat and drags his eyes away from the singer. He should probably get some sleep himself after all. No sooner has he done this though, than his gaze comes to rest on Corey again. It's not to stare at him this time though. All is silent for another few seconds, then the older man emits a small sound of distress. It could just be the angle that his right leg is at - sticking out to the side, and twisted under Jim's body - but Joey guesses that it's due the singer's dreams.
Taut lines have etched themselves around his closed eyes and his mouth is turned down in an unhappy line. That handsome face suddenly looks as though the man's in pain.
Joey hesitates a moment, then reaches back to jab his finger into Corey's side.
The singer twitches violently and it's a miracle Jim doesn't wake up too. Joey hesitates before prodding him again and bringing Corey back into consciousness.
He seems confused when he comes round; blinking rapidly and looking around the dark interior of the van, before his eyes find Joey.
"You ok, man?" The drummer whispers.
Corey's eyes are wide - the pupils swallowing the blue irises - and he doesn't seem to see the man before him. There's something in those orbs that are terrified, and Joey wonders what nightmares still lie in front of them.
Before he can say anything else though, the moment passes and the singer's finally focused on him.
"You ok?" He repeats. It's all he can think to say.
Corey nods slowly. "I'm fine. Nightmare." His voice is equally low.
"I guessed." Joey replies.
"Thanks for waking me up." The dreadlocked man shifts, easing out the stiffness he's acquired in slumber. "Could have gotten embarrassing."
The drummer just shrugs. "What were you dreaming about?"
Corey's face instantly closes up, and Joey knows that he's overstepped the line of their tenuous friendship.
"It's nothing," He insists, but a hand unconsciously creeps up to rub at a scar on the side of his neck. The small movement answers more than a straight reply would have ever done.
"Ok, then." The drummer lets the conversation drop, but carries on watching Corey as he adjust his limbs to a more comfortable position. Jim snorts in protest every time he's disturbed, but doesn't wake.
"Take a photo." The blond man says eventually, flipping his hood up. "It'll last longer."
Joey snorts, but looks away anyway. He pushes the earbuds of his Walkman into place, and turns Kiss on. As he settles back, deciding to finally try and get some sleep for himself, he glances forward out the windscreen.
The clock on the dashboard reads 01:25.