I Introduce the Selfish Machines

Mike’s P.O.V

Tony’s being quiet. Not his usual brand of “I’m kind of shy and waiting for someone else to talk to me” quiet. More like “I’m kind of upset about something right now and I’d like everyone to leave me alone or else” quiet. We get this sort of quiet a lot in our band, but it usually stems from Vic. The rare times it does stem from Tony, something is usually quite wrong. I don’t ask. I wait for Jaime to ask, because everyone knows Jaime will.

Vic is sitting on the tour bus couch with his guitar in his hand, his notebook on the table in front of him, scribbling lyrics into it before swearing to himself and scratching them out, only to repeat the process. I’m sitting beside him, reading over his shoulder and occasionally offering comment like I used to do when we were writing A Flair for the Dramatic. Tony is sitting at the “kitchen table”, eyes locked on his phone. He types out a reply to whatever text he just received, jaw clenching, pressing the screen with more force than is probably completely necessary. Jaime is sitting on the floor next to my legs, swearing loudly as he dies, yet again, in whatever video game he’s playing. He finally just gives up and turns on Netflix.

“What’s got you down, Turtle?” he asks like we’d all known he would, looking at the guitar player, whose hand clenches on his phone so hard his knuckles turn white. Vic pauses in his writing, and we both wait quietly for Tony’s answer. We all know when something’s up with Tony. He’s never been very good at hiding it.

It takes him a good twenty seconds to respond. “Fighting with Erin,” he finally mumbles, and I grimace.

I don’t particularly like Tony’s girlfriend. I mean, she’s cute. She’s funny. She’s smart. But there’s something about her that sets me off. Like she doesn’t care about what Tony thinks or feels. She casually pushes his feelings aside and demands he focus on hers. Which, I don’t think Tony’s ever had a problem with, Tony has never put himself before his girlfriend, ever. But it just... irks me, a bit. And I know she’s not particularly fond of us, of the fact that Tony’s constantly with the band, touring or recording. And, yeah, okay, I understand that part, we’ve all been through it, but I don’t like the way she handles it and doesn’t even try to be supportive of him. I also don’t like the way she makes fun of Tony’s shyness and nerdiness, his awkward avoidance of social situations and his love of Star Wars.

She irritates me. Simply put.

“What about?” I ask.

“Same as always.”

So, us, Simply put. That’s what Erin and Tony always go at it for. He’s spending too much time with the band and not enough time with her. I roll my eyes, feeling myself getting angry. My hands clench into fists, and I bite down hard on my lower lip to refrain from saying exactly what I think of the situation.

“Isn’t Erin coming out to the show tomorrow?” Vic asks, lowering his guitar back into its’ case and snapping it shut with a click.

“Yeah,” Tony sighs. “She is.”

I note that he sounds less than thrilled. I’m less than thrilled. I hadn’t known she was coming. The information feels heavy in my stomach, like a lead ball, and I grimace distastefully. “Well, there you go,” I say, unable to completely contain my sarcasm at the statement. “You can work it out with her then.” I refrain from saying he should honestly just break up with her and find someone else, that I’m seeing a lot of parallels between this and Stephanie, and that didn’t end well, either. (Though they never actually came out and said it, Stephanie cheated on Tony, and though Tony agreed to give her another chance, he cheated on her in retaliation, and it was an ugly, messy ending.)

Tony arches an eyebrow at my less than helpful tone, but he nods. “I was hoping to,” he responds, standing up. “I’m going to go lay down.” He leaves his phone sitting on the table and brushes past us, sliding back to the bunk area.

“Does this feel familiar to either of you?” Vic asks once the door is shut behind our guitarist.

“Yes,” I reply instantly.

“Think she’s going to break his heart?” Jaime asks, looking up at Vic.

“Honestly, Hime, I think she already is,” Vic answers, and the lead ball in my stomach grows.

***

I don’t bother to stick around the bus when Erin shows up. I stay long enough to say hi and to see Tony pull her close and give her a deep, loving kiss, and then I’m off the bus and wandering around whatever city we’re in for our set today. Jaime and Vic went off somewhere else, so I’m walking alone, trying to not think about Tony and Erin back on the bus, and what Vic had said the night before.

I don’t want to see Tony heartbroken again. We’d barely pulled him through it last time. Tony’s undeniably sensitive to a lot of things, and he gives his entire heart when he’s in a relationship, and I don’t think the girls he’s with appreciate that. They focus on the fact that he puts the band first. Which, he warns them that that’s how it’s going to be from the day the relationship starts, so I don’t know what they expect.

Me, I don’t have to worry about that. I don’t tie myself down with relationships like the other guys do. I’m into one night stands and a lot of whiskey. Whiskey doesn’t cheat on you and accuse you of lying. I like no strings attached. No strings attached works for me. Slutty girls and cheap booze. The life of a rockstar. I love it.

I mean, it seems to be working for Vic and Jaime, the whole relationship thing. Vic has Danielle and Hime has Jess. They fight, of course, all couples do, but it’s not like Erin and Tony. I know they’re happier than that. And I’m happy for them, I really am. It’s just not my thing, relationships aren’t my thing.

I push away the exact reason why relationships aren’t my thing, why I haven’t been able to keep a steady girlfriend since the recording of Selfish Machines. I don’t want to think about that.

I think I walk for maybe an hour, though I hadn’t checked what time I’d left. It’s fairly uneventful. A couple girls and a guy come up to me and ask for autographs, and I sign them and talk for a while. That’s a good distraction, it keeps my mind off things and makes me smile. But when that’s over, I accept that it’s probably time to go back to the bus. And hope that Tony and Erin are both clothed.

I make it back to the bus, and I hear the yelling before I open the door. I close my eyes and inhale deeply. This is a bad sign. I should walk away. I don’t. I push the door open and step inside.

Tony is standing at one side of the bus, closer to the door that leads to the bunks. Erin is standing right in front of me when I walk in. They’re facing each other, both red-faced and angry, and I don’t think either of them notices me straight away.

“I told you from day one how this would be, Erin!” Tony yells, his voice cracking on anger and desperation and other things that make my heart wrench. I fumble in my jacket pocket for a cigarette. “I told you that this band comes first, this band is my life! You told me you could handle that! What am I supposed to do? I call you every night before I go to bed, every morning when I get up, I text you all day! I don’t even go out with the guys to clubs anymore because I know you doubt me!”

“I told you weeks ago that I couldn’t keep going like this, Tony! Never seeing you, never knowing!” Erin’s voice rips up into an octave that I’m sure only dogs can hear, high-pitched and shrill. I bring my cigarette to my lips and light it. I shouldn’t be listening to this. Why am I listening to this?

“Never trusting, you mean!” Tony shouts. “You told me you’d hang on! You told me you wouldn’t do this, Erin! You promised, and you’ve been leading me on the entire time!”

“I didn’t lead you on! I came here to end this before it came to that!”

“Yeah?” Tony laughs quietly, his voice now deathly quiet. “How many times did you sleep with him before you decided to end it?”

The tension in the room becomes instantly unbearable as the fight drains out of Erin, and her face pales. I pause with the cigarette in my fingers, mouth dropped open. I want to say something, but I don’t know what, so I don’t.

“What are you... I don’t...”

Tony crosses the room in two long strides, raising his hand and brushing Erin’s dark hair back off her shoulders with long, tattooed fingers. Two dark purple bruise like marks are exposed. “I didn’t give you those,” he mutters curtly. “I haven’t seen you recently enough to give you those.”

“I.. I burnt myself--”

“Shut up. I’ve heard that lie before. And you have the nerve to stand here and accuse me of cheating on you, when I’ve been nothing but faithful the entire time, when I’ve fought for you every day since the beginning. Because when I make promises, Erin, they mean something, you mean something to me. I don’t. Lie, I don’t cheat, I’m not. I’m not that person, I’ve never been that person, and you know that. But you couldn’t handle what I do, and if you couldn’t handle what I do, you should’ve just dumped me because this band will always come first, always. Always.”

I hear pain. Unmistakable and bitter pain. Lacing Tony's words, cutting into my skin like a knife. Tony doesn't get hurt often. Not much drags him down. And here he is, and I can hear him attempting to sound flippant about the entire situation, but he's failing so miserably, it's not even worth the effort put in. There are tears, that's what, there's, he sounds like he's going to cry. I want to punch Erin.

"You weren't giving me what I needed, Tony. I found someone who would."

It sounds eerily like, almost exactly, it's word for word, what Stephanie said before, and Tony steps back sharply, he stumbles. And I take an automatic step towards him, reaching out to grab his wrist and steady him. Erin jolts when she sees me, and then flushes when she sees me glare. I take a drag from my cigarette, mostly ash by now. Tony watches as the ash falls from the ember, crumbling in the air, and I hear him, it's a choking sound, he. It's a sob. He's crying.

God, I want to punch Erin.

"Go," he mumbles, and then again, louder, "go! Get out, get out, now! Go back to whoever, whatever, go back and get your shit out of my house. Get out of my life, I can't, I need you to go, now, go!"

His voice breaks several times, like an adolescent boy going through puberty, and I shouldn't look at him. But I do. And he's crying, those are tear tracks down his face.

For a second, Erin seems unable to speak, and I'm glad she doesn't because if she does, I will punch her in her fucking month, that mouth that has obviously been places with other men where it should have only been with Tony. I hope she gets an STD.

"Tony," she finally whispers, and I can't explain it. Something snaps. Something ugly that's been building inside me since, since Stephanie, breaks. The lead ball becomes an egg, cracking open and giving way to a feral monster.

"Don't you dare," I say lowly. My voice sounds threatening in my own ears. "Don't say his name like it means something. Like you care or something. Tony was nothing but amazing to you. And you couldn't even accept that this band means the world to him. Did you ever push through your own selfishness and realize that, had you forced him to leave, it would mean the end of Pierce? Did you realize that he's our friend, our family, the only person we ever want on that stage with us? Did you not think? Are you dumb or just a whore?"

"Mike," Tony mumbles, his hand fumbling as he grabs at my arm and tugs weakly. I shake him off. Maybe I crossed a line. Maybe I don't even care anymore. I am sick of people hurting him.

"How dare you?" Erin begins, eyes darkening. And she raises, she actually lifts her hand, like she's going to hit me, like I feel, like I'm threatened.

I catch her wrist easily, my fingers closing, overlapping on the bone. "Don't. Push. Me. Get out."

She goes then, without argument. The second the door is closed behind her, I turn back to Tony. His face is, it's like shattered glass, he's broken and I don't. I can't fix. I want to, but I. I don't know how. He starts to drop to his knees, and I move, quicker than I knew I could, my arms locking around him. His face is buried in my shoulder, body shaking with sobs, each one tearing into me like talons. I hold on. I stroke my fingers over the skin on the back of his neck, silently, I've fallen mute. And I hold on.

The monster inside curls back into a lead ball as Tony cries into my shoulder, weighing me down until I'm drowning in his sorrow with him.

***

I inform Vic and Jaime of what happened, and they keep quiet like I do because that's all you can do. Though, after Tony is asleep, I rant, I bitch to Vic. He doesn't say much, he just writes. I know he's turning how I feel about Tony, how it effects me into music, he did it before, that's how we got National Anthem and Sky and Stay Away last time, when it was Stephanie. Those songs are about Tony and me and Steph and Vic and I are the only ones who know. Of course Tony is oblivious.

We're closing the tour and Tony's not... Doing better. He's. He's broken. That's the only word. And I'm. Desperate. That's a good word too. So when we get to the last night of the tour and we're on stage and Vic pauses between songs, I move. I don't remember moving, but I had to have. Unless I am a wizard. But either way, I'm not behind my drum set anymore and I'm there, next to Vic.

"You should let me, I have to, can I say something?" I ask urgently, aware of all the eyes that are now watching me. Don't look at Tony.

"Give it up for my baby brother," Vic calls before passing me the microphone. Fans scream.

"Haha, yeah, you don't hear me say much at these things, do you?" I laugh. I'm going to puke. "Vic fucked up, he's not getting this back now. My turn to bore you all. I just want to say something about under appreciation and the effect it can have. So for just a second, we're going to talk about Tony Perry."

I glance at Tony, standing side stage. He stares back at me, hand tightening on the neck of his guitar until his knuckles turn white. The crowd screams, they even start chanting his name, and he shakes his head quickly, but he can't hide behind his hair like he used to. I know he wants me to not do this, but I have to.

"I feel like. People don't appreciate Tony enough. They. Question his... Commitment to this band. And that's kind of what leads me bring up-- Sorry, Tone-- Erin Aschow and Stephanie Dearing. See, both of these girls tried to pull Tony away from the band, and his loyalty to us, to you guys, caused both relationships to fail. And I know Tony is questioning himself right now, doubting himself. But you guys, you love Tony. Right?"

My question is answered with screaming. Deafening. Thunderous. Someone shouts a marriage proposal, and Tony actually laughs. He has a fist pressed against his mouth, and I can see, they catch in the stage lights and glint, the tears on his face.

"Guys," I begin again. "Guys, I need you to make sure Tony always knows that he's appreciated and loved. By you and by us."

I push the microphone back into its' stand and walk over to where Tony is standing, body rigid, tears streaming down his face like flood gates broken open. There's a smile on his face. "Michael Fuentes," he says simply.

"Tony Perry," I respond. "You are appreciated. Don't ever think you aren't."

Then the most surprising thing, Tony smiles radiantly, positively beams, and gives me a strong, sturdy hug. When he lets go, he approaches Vic's microphone and smiles again.

"I love you guys," he mumbles, and the audience screams again.

***

It's easier then. Tony. He's happier. That makes it easier. He doesn't know, still, why, but. That's okay. Vic tells me to talk to him about why, about what it meant, but. I don't. Want to, I don't think that's a good idea. That would put a serious damper on one night stands, wouldn't it? I mean, yeah, Tony's sort of the reason I have one night stands, anyway, but I'm content with them, I don't... I'm not taking the risk, it's, that's not a good idea. I don't even have to worry about it, we're not on tour anymore.

Except that, even not on tour, our band spends more time together than it should, like we actually enjoy each other's company or something, so we're all back together within two days and at a bar. And Tony. Tony's flirting again. I think he's had a little bit of alcohol, that's the only way he really knows to flirt, but.. He's flirting. And I should be. Happy, with that, I think, that was supposed to be my goal. For him to feel comfortable and happy and all that. But I'm not happy with it, not at all. I order a shot of Jack and down it the second it's in my hand.

She's pretty and blonde and small and delicate, and she's laughing at whatever Tony's telling her. She reminds me of Stephanie. I order another shot.

Tony drops into the seat next to me five minutes later, smiling. "She gave me her number," he tells me. I remain silent.

Yeah, that's great, Tone, I think to myself. That's great. Start with another girl who, you know, probably won't understand the whole, the band comes first thing. Just like the last two. End up heartbroken again. That's awesome. I mean, at least we get great music out of it. I laugh bitterly, and Tony gives me a look. I think the alcohol is setting in. My brain feels cloudy.

"Do you like her?" I ask in spite of myself.

"I don't know her," Tony repsonds. "And I'm not ready to jump back into a relationship with a girl who isn't going to understand the band. I'm gonna wait a while, but you know." He shrugs and looks at the numbers on his hand.

I know. I don't reply. If I open my mouth, I'm going to say everything. I don't want to say everything. This time, when the bartender asks, I tell him to just leave the bottle.

Half an hour later, I don't feel drunk. I should. I know I probably am, but I don't feel it. I don't feel drunk at all. Tony, Tony who hadn't had much to drink at all, he offers to drive me home, and that's cool. That's okay. We're sitting in the driveway of my house now, and I should move. I should be moving. I'm not, though.

"Tony," I begin. What am I doing? Brain, why aren't you making my mouth not do this. "Tony, I love you."

"I love you, too, Mike."

"No, you don't. Sky. Stay Away. National Anthem. They're about you. You don't. They're Vic. Trying to write the situation with you and Stephanie and how I felt about it. That's what those songs mean. And you don't understand. You never understood. I love you. The way Stephanie and Erin should've loved you, the way they didn't. I love you like. Jaime and Jess or Vic and Danielle and that's why. That's why I've had one night stands since the day we met and I've never had a relationship or even wanted one. Because I wanted. You. But you had Steph. And Erin. And it never. I wasn't going to tell you, I didn't.. But you should know, I think. And I mean... I'd understand the band thing, you know, obviously, and you wouldn't... I wouldn't cheat on you."

My head hurts by the time I stop talking. I press my fingers to my temple and will the headache away. My speech doesn't sound slurred to me, but I bet it probably is to Tony, the way he's looking at me right now. Because he doesn't look surprised or stunned or disgusted or anything. He just looks wary and guarded.

"On a scale of one to ten, how drunk are you right now?" he asks.

"Twenty-six," I admit, and Tony nods.

"Tell me again when you're sober and we'll see where it goes," he replies, and. Okay, yeah. Yeah, I can handle that.

***

Tony and Jaime come to mine and Vic's house the next day to work on writing and whatever-- and yes, my brother and I still live together, it's not an issue. It's never been an issue. It's just easier. Tony is carefully avoiding my eyes, probably thinking I regret anything I said. I don't. I regret my hangover and the way it's throbbing like a bitch and how I have to try and figure out drum rhythms with it (fucking kill me), but I don't regret what I said. I can't regret it, it was the truth. And even if he doesn't. Feel the same, which, I mean that makes sense, I'm pretty sure he's straight, but I'm glad he knows anyway.

"Mike," he finally says when we pause to take a break. "Can I. We should talk."

I silently agree by standing up and following him out of the room. "I meant it," I say before he can ask. "I wasn't lying, I wasn't drunk-- I mean, I was, but I meant it."

"I thought you were straight."

"So did I. And I mean. As far as I'm concerned, I'm not. Gay. I haven't liked another guy, ever. It's just. It's you, Tone. It's been you. Always has been. I don't know if you feel the same, I don't. You don't have to feel obligated to feel the same, but that's how I feel."

"I-- Fuck, Mike, I feel the same, I always have, how the hell did you never--" He cuts himself off with a frustrated groan, lurching forward and locking his lips on mine.

I can handle that, I'm kissing back before I even know what's happening. And it feels Good, it feels like flame, fire pouring through my veins, into my heart. My heart that's racing too fast. I lay my hands on his hips, feeling his hands resting against my shoulders, and his body pressed against mine and I want this. All the time. I want him close to me, I want this fire, this need that I've never found with anybody else. I want.

"About fucking time!"

We break apart quickly when my brother speaks, and I know I'm blushing just as red as Tony is. "I. Vic, what...?"

"Who told who first?" Vic interrupts.

"Mike," Tony mumbles, shifting away from me awkwardly. I grab his wrist and pull him back. I don't care if they know, I just. He needs to be close to me.

Jaime practically howls with laughter as Vic swears loudly. "Pay the fuck up, Fuentes, I fucking told you!" Still swearing to himself, Vic fishes a twenty out of his pocket and passes it to Jaime, who pockets it gleefully.

"You were taking bets?" I ask blankly.

"So were All Time Low," Jaime grins. "I should tell Zack he owes Jack and Alex twenty bucks."

"And I should tell Kellin that he owes Gabe fifty. They bet more steeply than we did. Oli owes Lee, too."

"And Alan and Austin owe Tino and Phil," Jaime grins.

"Wait, was everyone taking bets on me and Tony?" I demand.

"Yes," Vic answers simply. "Because everyone who has ever met you two knows you belong together. We were just waiting for you to figure it out. And when you hadn't, people started placing bets on who'd spill first."

I want to be angry, but I can't. Especially not when Tony threads his fingers through mine and holds on. If everyone thought we were meant to be together, maybe we really are.

"Meant to be," Tony says quietly, and our eyes meet. I can't help it, I smile so widely that it actually almost hurts.

"Well, if the people think so, we should definitely give them what they want."

"If that was your backwards way of asking me out, then I'm saying yes," Tony replies. Vic and Jaime cheer, and really, I should've known they'd be okay with this. Still, I raise my middle finger to flip them both off as I bend to kiss my boyfriend again.