Getting Surreal

A little more than a week and a half later, and Becks found herself tuning up Frank’s guitars for the fourth time before their show that was in Philly. Or was it DC? Becks had already lost track. All she knew was that every night, she’d tune guitars, eat cheap food, tune guitars, then watch the best performance she’d ever seen in her life. MCR truly managed to outdo themselves every single time they played and she just couldn’t get enough. She always found herself sitting backstage, watching in awe as they all did their thing. She’d become a true fan.

And then, after that, she’d either find herself chatting with one or a few of the guys, usually just Gerard, in the front lounge, or drinking with one or a few of the guys until they passed out. Sometimes, they’d hang with other bands, sometimes they didn’t. Wake up in the afternoon, rinse, repeat.

Becks was okay with the routine. She liked it, even.

She put Frank’s guitar she’d learned he named ‘Pansy’ carefully down on the rack and was just about to grab the next one, just to check if it was still perfectly in tune for the third time when she heard a chuckle behind her.

“I don’t think it’s dropped out of tune in the past two minutes since you’ve checked.”

She sighed and turned to find Mikey standing behind her, leaned against the wall, arms crossed coolly.

“You don’t know that,” she said, trying to believe her own words but knowing he was right. He just raised a challenging eyebrow at her. “Okay, fine…I’m just…nervous,” she admitted, standing up and walking over to him, mimicking his stance against the wall.

“About what?” He asked, genuinely curious. She looked at him like he’d grown another head.

“My job!” She gestured towards the rack of guitars. “I just…don’t want to let you guys down.” At this, he looked a little taken aback. “What if a string is out of whack, you know? That could be…disastrous to the show, a-and…” she could see that her words were starting to stress him out and trailed off. She knew he had some pretty intense stage fright and realized her ranting could just be making it worse. “I just want everything to be perfect for you guys,” she finished softly, giving him a small smile. When he didn’t say anything, she looked at her feet, trying to think of something to say to make up for the moment before.

“You’re good, Becks,” he said finally, and she looked up to meet his eyes. “Sometimes I think you’re more dedicated to this band than us.” He gave her a warm grin.

“You deserve it,” she said honestly, unsure of where this openness was coming from, but going along with it anyways. “I think you guys’ll make it big one day, and I wanna do all I can to make that happen for you.”

His grin widened into an almost full-blown smile at her words. A second later, it disappeared and was replaced by a light frown.

“What about you?” She asked. “Are you nervous?” She knew the answer; of course he was. He was usually off drinking to ease his pre-show nerves by now. She just wanted to hear what his answer to her would be.

His frown deepened slightly and he shifted his gaze slowly around the room before landing back on Becks, meeting her eyes. He took a moment to take her in, as if to gauge what he would say.

“Terrified.”

He whispered it and she was almost sure it hadn’t even come out at all, but looking into his eyes, she knew it had. She couldn’t even begin to process what she could say, but before her brain could even comprehend, the words were coming out of her mouth.

“What can I do?” It came out as a whisper matching his tone, but it came out openly, honestly, earnestly.

And the second the words came out, she knew that they were the truest words she could have muttered. She would do anything to help him.

Next thing she knew, Becks was being led, hand in hand, to the MCR green room where he quickly grabbed a bottle of liquor. She noticed Bob and Ray giving them questioning looks, but followed Mikey’s lead to not say anything. It’s not like she would be able to answer their questions, anyways. As soon as he had the booze, he led her out of the green room and down the hall, still connected at the hands, to a dingy room just off the backstage area that had nothing but a couple crates and a bare lightbulb hung overhead that flickered a little. Nobody was in sight, and she figured that Mikey had found this room earlier to give himself some alone time before the show.

Letting go of her hand, he sat down on one of the crates, he opened up the bottle and took a large gulp, wincing as he swallowed. Becks watched him, dumbfounded for a second, taking him in.

Taking in the Anthrax shirt she’d seen him wear two days ago, even though they hadn’t had the chance to do laundry since then. Taking in the fact that he wasn’t wearing his beanie today, his hair instead immaculately straightened down and framing his face, some tucked under his glasses in a weird yet somehow endearing way. Taking in the way he screwed his eyes shut with intent and tilted his head back as he drank the alcohol. Taking in the anxious lines around his eyes and lips that he tried so hard to hide, but she could see.

She didn’t know when the last time she truly looked at a person was.

She was cut out of her reverie when he opened his eyes again and looked at her, holding out the bottle of booze. Finally understanding what was going on, she walked over and pulled the other crate close to his before sitting down and taking the bottle from him. She raised it in the air for a quick ‘cheers’ to him, before taking a drink, trying not to wince at the taste or the feeling as it burned down her throat. She’d always preferred her liquor mixed with at least something.

But she was far from complaining about the lack of soda when she opened her eyes and saw Mikey staring back at her, with his guard suddenly let down. He looked downright terrified and was rocking back and forth on his makeshift seat, the hand that wasn’t reaching out for the alcohol bunched up on the knee of his skinny jeans.

She recognized the signs.

“Mikey,” she whispered, her heart wrenching for him as she watched him take another large drink from the bottle, choking a little bit on this one in his apparent haste. She didn’t know what she should say, what she could say, so she just accepted the bottle back from him and taking another small sip as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

“I, uh,” he choked out finally, watching his shoes. “Just…talk,” he looked at her and took in her confused expression. “About anything.” He shook his head. “Doesn’t matter…just…please.” And he took the liquor from her again.

Becks was panicking. ‘Just talk about anything’ was something that usually had her stammering out nonsense and her mind going blank for ideas. But she really didn’t want to disappoint Mikey and she truly wanted to help him with what he was going through, so, with a reckless abandon, she went with the very first thought that came to mind.

“Joey Belladonna or John Bush?” She asked him with a very point-blank attitude.

He instantly stilled, taking in her seemingly random question. After a moment, he handed her the bottle and pulled on the hem of his shirt which had clearly influenced her topic choice. “Belladonna, one hundred percent.” He said.

“Yeah,” she murmured in agreeance before taking another, though this time, larger, sip, wincing down the burning liquid. She handed off the booze and realizing he was waiting on her to speak again, she shook her head and said, “your turn.”

Mikey hummed, and took another drink, thinking. When the bottle left his lips, he said, “Anything?”

“Anything.”

“Okay,” he nodded. “Hockey or football?”

“Shit,” she muttered, grabbing the bottle from him and getting into this game that they seemingly had just created, feeling her own sense of ease as she watched him notably relax. She took a large sip to stall a moment, then answered strongly. “Hockey live, football on tv.” She passed the bottle, now nearly a third gone. She wondered if she should try and cut back on the alcohol for the next little bit, wanting to be sober (enough) minded to help the show go off without a hitch, but that was thought was quickly pushed away with a glance at Mikey. He was almost smiling a little now, clearly relaxing and enjoying the moment.

He was also looking at her expectantly, waiting her turn. She crossed her legs awkwardly on the crate and squinted her eyes, looking around the room, thinking.

“Green Day,” she said. “Dookie or Nimrod?”

“Fuck.” Mikey said, pausing with the bottle to his lips. “I…I…” He glared at his lap before taking a sip and sighing, looking at her. “Dookie, but damn me if Nimrod isn’t epic in its own right.”

Becks let out a laugh, then, and he gave her a proper smile. The alcohol was starting to make her head swim a little, but more than that, she was just happy to be able to make the bass player smile.

“Okay, okay,” he said, turning to face her better, the bottle in his hand forgotten. “Marvel or DC?” He looked at her expectantly and nervously, clearly not sure if she was into the comic book scene or not.

“Oh, come on!” She said, dramatically, as if it had an obvious answer. “Marvel, all the way. The only thing DC’s ever done for me was Batman.” His eyebrows shot up and she gave his shoulder a playful smack. “I know things!” She snatched the bottle out of his lap.

He gave a small giggle and looked at her almost…reverently?

“Yeah, you do,” he let out quietly.

“Okay, you wanna play it that way…” She tilted her head, thinking. “X-Men or Fantastic Four?”

“X-Men.” His answer was immediate. “Iron Man or Thor?”

“Ooooh…I think…” she paused to take a sip, not really feeling the burn anymore. “It’s gotta be Iron Man.” She took in his quirked eyebrow as she passed off the bottle. “I love me a good sass-pot.”

“Fair.” He offered her the bottle again, but she shook her head, so he took one last healthy sip and set it down on the floor “So?”

“I dunno, I’m out…go again?” She whined.

“Nuh-uh. Your turn,” he smiled, pointing at her, “Go.”

“Gahh…” She thought for a moment. “Okay, new topic.” He nodded idly. “Uh…N’Sync or Backstreet Boys?” She dragged the end of her question out, wincing at how lame it felt. But Mikey just laughed.

“Hitting hard with the real questions now, huh?” He was clearly amused.

“You know it!” She said strongly, giggling too. “So?”

He was about to answer when the door to their little closet burst open, revealing a slightly panicked Gerard.

“Thank God!” He breathed out dramatically, his eyes landing on the pair.

“Hey, Gee,” Mikey greeted, seemingly oblivious to his brothers’ panic.

“Dude, we have to be on stage in fucking five.”

“Shit,” Becks hissed as she and Mikey shot to action. He caught her as she stumbled a little when she stood up too quickly and, wow, that was a lot of alcohol they just drank. She was definitely feeling it now.

“Brian’s been freaking out.” Gerard said, watching Mikey bend over and grab the half empty liquor bottle before he and Becks followed him out of the room.

The second they were out of the tiny room, Becks shot off to try and tune Frank’s guitars one last time but froze when she heard Mikey call out her name behind her. She turned and looked at him, holding onto the wall for support.

“Backstreet!” He called with a smile, Gerard gave him a strange look, but she just grinned like an idiot before rushing off to do her job.