The Rhythm of Our Broken Hearts (Andy/Matt)

Chapter One: Smoke and Mirrors

The twenty-year old’s icy blue eyes drifted around the room. The walls were lined with various posters of previous shows, some of the bands he recognized, and others he didn’t, probably just casualties of the industry. You have your fifteen minutes, one good album if you’re lucky, a few decent tours, and then you’re gone in a flash. Replaced by another carbon copy of the next ‘big thing’, your fans having moved on, leaving you with nothing but memories of a ‘has been’ rockstar. That was always a fear of his, that the band’s quick rise to fame would be met with an equally fast fall.

The raven-haired singer had given everything for this band, more than most people would ever know. He didn’t have a fallback plan, no safety net to catch him when the world stopped caring and things crashed around him. Not even bothering to finish high school, he had literally fled Ohio days after his eighteenth birthday to follow his dreams. To anyone looking in from the outside, it would appear that his passion and determination had paid off, here they were getting ready to celebrate their sophomore album’s release in a few months with a fan base that seemed to grow by the day, by all standards they had made it.

But to Andy things were very different, things didn’t feel like a dream, they felt like a fucking arms race. From the day his cowboy boots hit the streets of Hollywood he had been on the run. Before he knew it there were people trying to sink their claws into him, everyone wanting a piece of what was ‘sure to be’ the next big thing. Producers, managers, and shady musicians all looking to hitch a ride and make a quick buck off him. At eighteen he had been naïve to it all, seeing the best in people got you eaten alive in this town.

Not only did he have to constantly watch his back but everything he did, everything he said was up for criticism. The years of relentless bullying in school had done a number on his self-esteem, as a self-described ‘chubby’ kid the names he was called haunted him still. That was all supposed to be behind him, he had worked so hard to craft himself into something to be desired. Tall, blue eyes, long black hair, deep voice, and an impossibly thin figure, people either wanted to be him or be with him. So why was it that when some metalhead in a Black Sabbath t-shirt screamed ‘faggot’ at him that his blood still boiled the way it did at thirteen being slammed against a locker?

Was it because he was afraid of people seeing past the mask? That the larger than life character he’d created was nothing but smoke and mirrors and behind it all was a deeply wounded fucked up kid who never really grew up. That he’d become a borderline alcoholic by the end of their second tour, that he chain-smoked his hunger away to stay thin, that more than a few times he’d found himself with his fingers down his throat telling himself it was just to ‘make himself feel better’. Or was it because he didn’t want people to know that he’d spiral into anxiety and self-doubt alone in his bunk at night because he knew one day the monsters he was running from would catch up to him? That he would be exposed.

Or maybe he just didn’t like being called a faggot.

“Are you taking these shots with us or not, motherfucker?” CC asked, his laugh snapping Andy out of his haze.

The drummer’s painted hand dangled the shot glass in front of Andy, it was overflowing with whatever whiskey CC had brought from the bus, dripping down onto the stained greenroom carpet.

“Of course, I fucking am.” Andy grabbed the shot glass, throwing it back and chased it with a can of Coke Zero, the bitter liquid burned his throat but he had grown to like it.

Oddly enough, he had started his career vowing to be a sober musician. He’d watched too many of his childhood heroes become consumed with drugs and alcohol, and he didn’t want that to be his plight. It didn’t take long after moving to Hollywood for him to realize that made him the odd one out. All anyone seemed to care about was partying, drinking, and fucking. He managed to resist during their first tour, but a lapse of judgment on their second was all it took.

As soon as that first drink passed his lips and he felt the warmth in his chest he knew his ‘sober’ career was over. For the first time in his life, he felt free and he never wanted that feeling to end. Things had been downhill from there.

CC slapped him on the back, mumbling something about getting fucked up after the show and that he ‘knew a guy’ who could bring them some blow. Andy was way ahead of the rest, he’d been nursing a bottle of wine since he’d woken up a few hours before. Most of the other guys waited until closer to show time to start drinking, something Andy couldn’t contemplate. The last thing in the world he wanted to be was sober.

Andy’s phone buzzed in his pocket with a text. He pulled it out, his thumbs typing out a reply to Matt. Their bus had just pulled up. A smile spread across his painted red lips before he quickly made his way out of the room, ignoring Jake calling after him that John needed to go over the stage set up with him.

Andy hadn’t seen Matt in months. They kept in touch daily, but with both bands, constantly on tour, it was rare that they actually had time to hang out together. The two had met the previous year when their bands had been on tour together. They had hit it off almost immediately, it felt like. Matt wasn’t like a lot of the other people Andy had met in the scene, he was genuine and didn’t seem to give a shit about what others thought.

When Andy found out that they would once again be touring together he could barely contain his excitement. Touring could get lonely despite what people might think, all your interactions are transient, and you go weeks and months without seeing your friends, family, or significant others. But at least this time he’d have someone to hang out with every day, do stupid shit with and someone to make him laugh (a task he found to be increasingly harder).

His boots clicked against the ground in a fast cadence as he sprinted towards the bus marked with the ‘D.R.U.G.S’ logo.

Matt stepped off the bus, his face lighting up as he saw Andy running towards him, his long black hair flowing in the wind with each stride. The older man opened his arms, stumbling back as he caught Andy in them. Matt hugged Andy’s thin frame tightly before letting go and looking his friend over.

It wasn’t something he’d talked about with Andy, but the twenty-seven-year-old worried about his friend. Despite how close they were he knew that Andy kept a lot of things to himself. Even to his friends he tried to appear like he had it all together, Matt knew about some things, like how Andy struggled with anxiety and shit. The guitarist had been in the business for a while and he’d seen a lot of people fall victim to their own demons. He cared about the younger man, maybe a bit more than he wanted to admit, but it was 3 PM and Andy smelled like pure whiskey. Some concern was justified.

“Fuck, this tour is about to be fucking legendary. I’ve missed you, Six.” Matt grinned, pushing his concern to the back of his mind.

“Fuck yeah it is!” Andy laughed, waving to Craig as he and the other guys started filing off the bus before turning his attention back to Matt.

Matt threw an arm around Andy’s shoulders, pulling him in as they started walking towards the venue together. Andy leaned into him, the shot he’d taken with CC starting to kick in and causing his balance to falter a bit. He glanced up at Matt, something he wasn’t used to having to do. Matt was one of the only people Andy knew that was actually taller than him.

“Did you get a head start on drinking without me?” Matt asked.

“Maybe… but don’t worry there’s plenty more in the green room. We’ve got to fucking go big for the first night.”

Matt looked down at Andy, smirking, “Twenty bucks says I can out-drink your ass tonight, kid.”

“Bet. Hope you’re ready to lose.” Andy laughed, slipped out from under the older man’s arm as they walked into the backstage area.

Matt plopped down on the couch beside Jinxx, fist-bumping him and nodding to the other members of Black Veil that were doing more shots at the catering table. He watched as Andy went over things with John, the two of them making notes on the setlist.

His eyes followed the contours of the young singer’s body down to the skintight leather leggings he was wearing. He liked the new look Andy was doing, the whole glam metal thing was a step up from the more toned-down look he had the previous year. The cropped leather vest he was wearing showed off his tiny waist; those days had long passed for the older man. Years of touring, beer and partying had added a few pounds to the guitarist, but then again, he wasn’t worried about wearing leather and spandex.

Andy looked good in it though, then again there wasn’t much Andy didn’t look good in. It was one of the first things Matt had noticed about the singer when the first met. The alt-scene was full of good-looking dudes with nice hair, but Andy was absolutely stunning. His pale skin was flawless to the point that he looked photoshopped and his piercing blue eyes were captivating. If Matt was being honest with himself, he knew he had a bit of a crush on the younger man, he considered himself pretty open to most things, but he also knew better than to try and cross that line. He wasn’t even sure if Andy was into that type of thing, although he had his suspicions.

On the last tour they were on together there had certainly been a lot of ‘play’ flirting which didn’t help the rumors about them. There was even one night, after far too much whiskey, that they had been ‘dared’ to kiss by some fans outside the venue. To Matt’s surprise, Andy had accepted the dare, leaning in and pressing his lips against Matt’s. Although it had only lasted a few seconds, it left Matt wanting more, but luckily better judgment prevailed, and he pushed that urge down. No use in complicating things when they didn’t need to be.

Andy’s eyes drifted over to Matt, flashing him a pearly white smile. It was enough to make a shiver go down the guitarist’s spine.

***

Andy blew a smoke ring into the cool night air, leaning his head back as he closed his eyes. He passed the cigarette back to Matt who took a long drag, ignoring the bright red lipstick stain on it. The two were both shit-faced, having made good on their promise to try and out drink the other. After the show, some of the bands and crew had made their way down the street to a local dive bar, that luckily for Andy, didn’t seem to care about checking IDs.

The singer wouldn’t turn twenty-one until the end of the year, but his alcohol tolerance was well advanced for his young age. Matt had a few inches and at least fifty pounds on the boy and yet Andy was still able to give him a run for his money. All the guys in Black Veil could drink, they were known for it.

Despite their reputation, Matt had ended up winning after Andy tapped out on the sixth shot. He spent the next thirty minutes puking in the men’s bathroom, which he was sure to regret the next day when his voice was hoarse. Matt knew he would regret his victory in the morning, but regardless, he was twenty dollars richer now.

“You feel better now?” Matt asked, feeling slightly guilty for Andy getting sick.

“Yeah, totally. You know you I actually could have beat you, I just took that last shot too fast is all.” Andy insisted, his words slurred, and his ego clearly bruised.

The older man couldn’t help but laugh at the desperate attempt to save face. “Is that so? Are you sure it isn’t because you’re more of a lightweight than you want to admit?” Matt teased, poking the singer’s side.

“Rematch, tomorrow night,” Andy said with a smirk, reaching over to grab Matt’s pack of cigarettes from him.

“Jesus dude… two nights in a row? I don’t know, I’m not trying to die this tour.” The older man replied.

Andy lit his cigarette, inhaling deeply before leaning his head against Matt’s shoulder and letting the smoke slip through his lips. His eyelids felt heavy and the cumulative effects of drinking all day were starting to hit him. The last he checked it was a little after two A.M, the bar was closing and soon it would be bus call time.

“You’re not going to fall asleep on me, are you?” Matt asked, putting an arm around his intoxicated friend.

“Mm… I’m awake.” Andy mumbled.

“Come on, I’ll give you a piggyback ride back to the buses,” Matt said, standing up and letting the singer get on his back.

Andy weighed next to nothing, noticeably lighter than the last tour they’d been on together, Matt thought. It wasn’t like the older man had been lifting weights, Andy had definitely gotten lighter. He just hoped that all the partying and drinking wasn’t causing Andy to neglect his health. That lifestyle took a toll on your body, Matt had learned that the hard way a long time ago. Andy was young, probably still figuring out his limits.

Matt carried him across the street to Black Veil's bus, having to wake him before putting him down. Andy swayed as he made his way up the steps, the older man keeping his hand on the small of Andy’s back to keep him from falling backward. Most of the guys were already on the bus, except for Ashely who normally didn’t make it back until seconds before the bus pulled out of the parking lot.

Andy made his way into the back, past his bunk to a wooden door that had a crudely written sign on it that read ‘stabbin’ cabin’. He fumbled with the doorknob before finally opening it, pushing the door open and stumbling over to the queen-sized mattress on the floor. Matt followed, glancing around the small room. There were suitcases piled in the corners along with more cases of alcohol, the purpose of the room was quite clear with the mattress being the centerpiece.

“This is uh… an interesting setup.” Matt laughed, sitting on the edge of the mattress as Andy rolled over onto his back.

“Yeah… some of the guys insisted on it, but I’m sleeping in here tonight. Fuck them.” Andy mumbled.

Matt didn’t blame the singer, bunks tended to be a rather tight fit for anyone over six foot, he always woke up with leg cramps from having them crammed into his bunk each night. It was the first night of the tour, hopefully, that meant the sheets were clean…

“You going to take your stage clothes and makeup off?”

“Too drunk-” Andy slurred, peeling off his vest and tossing it onto the ground beside the bed.

Matt couldn’t help but let his eyes wander over Andy’s exposed chest, still stained with black paint. His red lipstick was slightly smeared as were the rest of the intricate designs he painted on his face. Despite that, he still looked stunningly beautiful and the alcohol clouding Matt’s brain was making it hard for him to keep his composure.

“Well, I should get over to my bus before my manager blows a gasket wondering where I am, see ya, tomorrow dude.”

“Wait-” Andy reached out, grabbing Matt’s hand and pulling him back.

“I asked John if it was okay if you rode on our bus some nights and he said sure… you should stay on here tonight.”

Matt hesitated, trying to decipher what that meant if it meant anything at all. They had shared a hotel room once the last time they toured together but that was it. “On here? What, do I get to take your bunk while you sleep in a real bed?”

“Mm… just share with me.”

Andy looked up at Matt, he had asked John if Matt could ride with them some nights, mostly because he wanted more time to hang out with him. There was surprisingly little time between set up, soundcheck, playing, signings, and meet and greets to do anything during the day. If Matt stayed with them then they’d have all night to make up for all the lost time. There was an extra bunk, and maybe it was the alcohol making him forget that fact, but maybe it was also wanting to feel the warmth of another human being that made the younger man pull Matt back to him.

“Alright… I mean I guess it does beat a tiny ass bunk.” Matt said, giving in against his better judgment. He shot a text to his manager letting him know he was riding with Andy before kicking his shoes off and laying back against the mattress beside the singer.

Andy curled up to Matt’s side, the scent of his friend’s cologne strangely calming to him. Matt pulled the covers up over himself and Andy who by the sound of his rhythmic breathing had already blacked out.