The Rhythm of Our Broken Hearts (Andy/Matt)

Chapter Twelve: I Can’t Save Our Hearts Tonight

Andy ducked his head, quickly making his way off stage and out of sight of the fans still screaming for more. Halfway through the set his voice had almost completely failed him; he lied to the fans telling them he had laryngitis. Of course, they believed him, it was a perfectly plausible reason. The rest of the band knew he was full of shit, and worst of all, Matt knew he was full of shit. He had fucked up; you should have known better he thought to himself. How embarrassing that he couldn’t even make it through a forty-minute set, having to rely on the crowd and backup vocals to carry the show.

“Andy, I’m talking to you. What was that you were just fine at soundcheck.” John’s voice was surprisingly not as angry as his face had been through the duration of the set.

If anything, his manager seemed concerned. With all the illnesses and injuries, he’d had in the handful of tours they’d done, the man had reason to worry. Andy felt bad for John, he didn’t sign up to be a babysitter, and he was pretty sure he stressed the blonde-haired man out. But if there was one time he wished the dude would just leave him alone, it was now. John was nothing compared to Matt, however.

The singer had made the mistake of looking over at the guitarist towards the end of their set; the look on the older man’s face was a mix between anger and worry. Andy had no desire to get a lecture, he felt like shit and just wanted to go to bed, so he didn’t stop when Matt tried to talk to him after the show. His throat was on fire after frying the last of his voice on stage, and he felt dizzy and lightheaded.

“Andy?!” John yelled again as he followed after the singer through the maze of backstage hallways.

“John, I’ll handle it,” Matt said, placing a hand on the shorter man’s shoulder and pushing past him.

The older man was infuriated, he was trying not to jump to conclusions, but he just couldn’t think of an innocent explanation. Andy had lied to him; he’d asked him if he was okay; he shouldn’t have fucking left him alone. He wasn’t quite sure how to even confront the singer, should he just come out and accuse him? Cornering Andy hardly worked out in anyone’s favor; the man seemed to have a knack for getting himself out of those situations. Besides, what type of conversation would they even have, Andy could barely even bid the crowd goodnight.

“Andy, you’re not running away from me. What the fuck happened? You were fine less than two hours ago?!” Matt yelled at the retreating man.

Andy flung the back-entrance door open, almost hitting Matt in the face with it. His heels clicked against the asphalt as he made his way towards the bus. He wasn’t even sure why he was ignoring Matt; it wasn’t like the man would suddenly realize he didn’t want to talk and drop it.

“Take another fucking step and we’re done.” Matt snapped, stopping in his tracks and holding his breath for Andy to make a move.

He watched as the singer came to a halt, keeping his back to the guitarist, just feet away from the bus. Slowly, he turned around, his expression blank as his blue eyes looked up at the older man.

“Andy, please… just tell me what happened.” Matt sighed, feeling defeated as he braced himself for a lie.

Andy opened his mouth, his voice cracking and squeaking when he tried to speak, having to settle instead for a barely audible whisper. “Matt… not right now.” He pleaded, trying to come up with a reason; anything but the truth.

“Yes, right now, Andy. What did you do? You were fine when I went on stage, what did you do?” Matt’s anger was starting to turn to sadness as tears threatened to fall.

“I-I told you I didn’t feel good.” Having to strain his voice to even whisper was aggravating his throat, even more, forcing him to pause as he coughed. “I thought I would be okay, but… I think I have food poisoning or something.”

Andy wanted to punch himself the second the words came out, good going you fucking idiot, that’s what you come up with? Matt’s brows furrowed into a glare, causing the singer’s heart to skip a beat. Matt knew; he’d failed his test.

“God… you’re such a fucking liar. That’s all you do; lie to me. Food poisoning? Really, that’s the best you’ve got. Because if I recall we ate the same thing, and I feel just fine.” The older man was practically yelling, his fingers laced through his hair as he paced in a circle.

Andy winced at the anger in his voice, “Matt I’m not lying to you, I-”

The air escaped the singer’s lungs as his back hit the metal siding of the bus, Matt’s hands were wrapped around his arms, squeezing them tightly. Andy looked down, avoiding the accusing look in the other man’s eyes; shocked at the sudden outburst.

“You don’t care, do you? You don’t care that you’re forcing me to watch you destroy yourself, your band, everything you’ve worked for. You’re willing to throw that all away for what? Vanity?”

“Matt, you don’t understand!” Andy’s voice failed him again, cutting in and out as he pleaded.

“Then enlighten me, tell me what it is I’m missing. Baby… please….” Matt’s tone softened as he loosened the grip on the younger man’s arms, releasing him.

He knew this wasn’t the right way to approach things, Andy was clearly hurting and maybe it wasn’t the best time and place, but he just needed to hear him say it.

The nauseous and sick feeling was starting to return, and the last thing the singer wanted to do was have a heart to heart. Matt clearly knew, why did he need confirmation? His mind seemed pretty made up; he thought he was just a clone of Sonny. Maybe that was all he ever was to Matt, just a replacement. The thought was like a dagger through the younger man’s heart.

“I wasn’t feeling good, I just ate too much and I didn’t want to get sick on stage so I just…”

“Just what? Shoved your fingers down your throat? That’s what the marks on your knuckles are from right? From the last time you didn’t ‘feel good’. Or did you think I didn’t notice those?” Matt was starting to get heated again, why couldn’t Andy just be honest?

“Don’t pretend like you didn’t set me up!” Andy choked out, his voice threatening to give out completely.

Matt’s eyes widened; he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Typical Andy, turn it around on him because god forbid anyone care about him. “I set you up? How did I do that, by feeding you? That’s fucking disgusting, Andy, why would I set you up?”

“Because you’re obsessed with making me into that fucking guy! Just admit it!”

“Who? Sonny? Oh, sweetheart, you’ve got him beat by a mile at this point.” Matt was almost ready to give up; on the conversation, on Andy, on all of it.

If Andy was hellbent on self-destruction, why should he even bother to try and stop him? He didn’t want any help, that much was painfully obvious.

The singer turned to the side, covering his mouth with the back on his hand. The sick feeling in his stomach was getting worse, fuck I’m gonna throw up he thought, scanning the parking lot for a trash can, bushes, anything. Matt was still talking, but he couldn’t concentrate on what he was saying.

“Hey! Are you even listening to me-” The older man cut himself off when he saw how pale Andy’s face looked, shit maybe he was sick… either that or it was all some elaborate act.

Andy made it about a foot before throwing up on the concrete, his throat burning as he tried to force his body to stop. He held his hair back, keeping his eyes closed, the pain making his knees threaten to buckle.

Matt wrinkled his nose, crossing his arms and looking away, halfway convinced it was just for show. It was a horrible thought, but at this point, he didn’t know what to believe. What if something really was wrong with Andy though… The guitarist glanced over at the boy bent over, his heart dropped at the sight of what looked to be blood.

“F-Fuck…” Andy gasped, his hands trembling when he opened his eyes and saw the bright red on the ground.

“Holy shit… oh my god, Andy, shit we’ve got to get you to the hospital” There was panic in the older man’s voice as he rushed over.

“No… please don’t, I’ll be fine-” Andy protested, despite being incredibly worried himself.

“Are you kidding me? You just threw up fucking blood, you’re going to the hospital.” Matt insisted, pulling his phone out and texting John to call a taxi immediately.

Andy straightened his back, the change of position making him see black dots. Should he tell Matt the truth about earlier? He was bound to find out if he insisted on being with him at the ER. He didn’t want to go to the hospital, but this time he might actually need to. If something was wrong… he wanted Matt there.

“Matt…,” Andy bit his lip, the taste of blood only making the anxiety worse, “I-It happened earlier…”

The older man couldn’t believe what he was hearing, what did Andy mean ‘it happened earlier’? So, he threw up blood and just didn’t plan on telling anyone, that was borderline suicidal behavior. Now was definitely not the time for a lecture; the singer was shaking like a leaf.

“Fuck… okay, it’s going to be okay.” Matt wrapped his arms around the petrified boy, pulling him in close as Andy started to panic.

The emergency room was uncharacteristically quiet; Andy had been brought back almost immediately. He was now curled up on the hospital bed, his stage clothes traded for a blue hospital gown that swallowed him whole. He had taken his makeup off while they waited for the taxi to arrive; ambulances were too expensive, and it was best the fans not know which wailing sirens and lights would not be conducive to. He looked so small and fragile lying there; his body rail thin.

A nurse had come by earlier to take some blood, which hadn’t gone well. Matt thought the singer was going to fight the poor woman when she stuck his arm. For a guy who got famous off ‘stitches’, needles were not Andy’s thing.

“Babe… don’t poke at that…” Matt sighed, leaning over from his seat and trying to stop Andy from pulling his IV out.

The younger man was pretty out of it. Along with the IV drip, the nurse had also given him some pain medications for his throat. It had quelled his anxiety, relaxing him.

“Mm… come lay down with me” Andy pouted, holding his hand out towards the other man.

Now that the initial shock and worry had faded a bit, Matt was still kind of upset with Andy. It took literally puking blood to get the kid to even be somewhat forthcoming. Did he not see a problem with that? All the secrets he kept; all the destructive vices were catching up to him.

“Andy, there’s not enough room for both of us, just rest until the doctor comes in, alright?” Matt felt bad when Andy frowned and pulled his hand back, fuck, what was he supposed to do?

Matt was thankful when minutes later a man in a white coat pulled the curtain back, introducing himself. At least they would have answers, although the idea that something could be seriously wrong with Andy was weighing heavily on the older man’s mind. He had been going through all the horrible scenarios on the ride over, cancer, internal bleeding, ruptured vocal cords, some weird virus; it was all bad.

“Alright, Mr. Biersack the results-”

“Just call me Andy.” The singer interrupted the doctor, clearly not amusing the man.

“Alright, Andy, the results of your tests are back. Looks like you have an ulcer that bled, and maybe a touch of laryngitis. Now, these things are pretty common, but I’ll give you an antibiotic and it should clear things up.”

Andy felt a wave of relief come over him, “So that means I’ll be okay right?” he asked, his voice hoarse, but starting to return.

“Yes, you’ll be fine. Just take it easy the next few days, and uh- try to avoid anything alcoholic or acidic.”

Matt scooted forward in his chair a bit, “Hey doc, what causes these things… the ulcers that is?” the guitarist asked, ignoring the glare he got from Andy.

“Oh, several things can cause them, excessive alcohol consumption, bad diet, stress, and some people just get them.”

So basically, Andy’s entire lifestyle, how comforting, Matt thought. He was thankful that nothing was critically wrong with the singer, once again he had narrowly avoided disaster. Perhaps this would scare Andy enough to knock some sense into him; get him to clean up his act a little bit.

“Does that mean I can leave now?” Andy sat up, antsy to leave before Matt could ask any more questions.

“Not just yet. Your electrolytes were a bit off, and some of your other levels were a bit low. That’s probably just from dehydration, but I think it’s best if you finished the drip first. You’ll probably feel better.” The doctor replied, flipping through some labs on his clipboard.

“Oh…” The younger man relaxed back against the bed, not happy about having to spend any more time hooked up to some salt bag.

“I have to ask, do you drink? Smoke? Under stress? Any information you think I should know?” the doctor asked.

“Yeah… I smoke and drink, but it’s not a lot.” Andy answered, blatantly lying to the man’s face.

Matt noticed how the doctor kept glancing over at Andy, eyeing him suspiciously before scribbling some notes down on the clipboard. He’d been going back and forth in his mind as to whether or not he should tell the doctor what had happened. If he did, maybe this guy could help Andy? Of course, there was no way that would go over well with the singer, he seemed perfectly content with omitting that part.

“Mhm… well, if you want my opinion you should work on quitting those things. It’s not good for your vocal cords or your health. There are things that can help you quit; I’ll add them to your discharge papers.” With that, he gave the younger man a nod and left the room.

Andy looked over at Matt and smiled softly, “See, you were worried for nothing.”

“Andy… you lied to him.” “What about the drinking? It’s no big deal.” The singer waved his hand, dismissing the concern.

Matt opened his mouth to say more, but he was exhausted, it wasn’t worth the argument. It had been the most stressful day of the tour, possibly of any of the tours he’d been on. Between the fight on the bus, confessing his love, and then thinking Andy was literally dying, he was beaten. He just wanted to crawl into his bunk and sleep. It was easier to just let Andy live in his delusion for the time being.

The guitarist was half asleep, the fatigue finally getting the best of him, when the doctor waltzed back in. He handed Andy some papers and the antibiotic prescription while a nurse worked on taking his IV out. The younger man seemed thrilled to finally be able to leave, quickly changing back into his clothes once the pair left.

“Come on, I want to get out of here, it smells like disinfectant,” Andy said, wrinkling his nose.

Matt stood up, stretching his arms above his head before tucking his phone in his back pocket and pulling the curtain back. The doctor that had seen Andy was sitting at his station, typing up notes on his computer. If he wanted to say anything, this was his last chance. If he loved Andy, this was the right thing to do, right?

“Hey, you go on ahead, I’m going to grab something from the vending machine really quick,” the older man said, hoping the singer would just agree.

“Yeah, sure… will you get me more gum if they have any?” Andy replied, raising an eyebrow.

“For sure, tell the guys I’m right behind you.” Matt watched as Andy shrugged, turning and walking towards the large metal doors that led to the exit.

He had to be quick he thought to himself, waiting until Andy was out of sight before slipping around the corner and approaching the doctor. The middle-aged man glanced up from his notes, sitting back in his chair, “Can I help you?”

“Hey… um,” Matt let out a shaky breath, his palms feeling sweaty, “He uh… he left some stuff out… and I’m just so worried about him…”

“He drinks more than a little… it’s quite a lot actually. And… I think he’s been you know… making himself sick. I think he did tonight… I mean, I guess I know he did… and I don’t know… I don’t know if that could have caused the thing you said he has but… I just feel like he’s in denial about things… and, fuck I don’t even know what I expect you to do but I just had to tell you.” Matt rambled, realizing he was just trying to get confirmation that he wasn’t crazy.

The doctor’s brow furrowed as he nodded; he seemed unsurprised at everything Matt was telling him. “I see. It certainly possible that had something to do with what happened tonight. I can’t discuss his results with you, but I think you’re right to be concerned.”

The man fumbled around, searching through different stacks of papers and pamphlets before grabbing one and holding it out. “There’s some resources on here and information on eating disorders. I’m sorry I can’t help you any more than that, he’s an adult and unless his life is at imminent risk, I’m afraid I can’t do much else.”

Matt took the pamphlet, glancing down at the cover before folding it and putting it in his back pocket. He didn’t know what he expected, but he still felt a little disappointed. It was this guy’s job to make people better, right?

“Try talking to him, he put you down as his emergency contact, he must trust you.” The doctor offered, glancing down at the intake papers with Andy’s name on them.

Andy leaned back against the wall, shaking his head in disbelief. He couldn’t make out all the words that were being said, they were both speaking too softly, but he saw Matt tuck something into his back pocket. It could have been anything, maybe Matt had a question about himself. The singer was too paranoid to actually believe that though. He saw the look on Matt’s face in the room, how he bit at his fingernails, anxiously. How he butted into the conversation…

The singer hurried down the hallway as Matt’s footsteps approached, making it through the sliding glass doors before he turned the corner. Andy’s hands shook as he lit a cigarette, trying to make it look like he was just getting a quick smoke in before they left.

The older man emerged from the building a few minutes later, a soda in his hand. Andy eyed him closely, noticing the paper protruding from his pocket. Should he just grab it, or wait until Matt fell asleep?

“Hey, sorry, they didn’t have any gum. Craig might have some on the bus, I’m sure he’ll share.” Matt said, cracking the can of soda open.

“Mm, yeah… it’s all right. Don’t worry about it.” Andy blew a smoke ring into the night air, trying not to let on that he had been spying on the older man.

“I’m glad you’re okay though… you really scared me.” Matt said, forcing a small smile.

“Me too…”

--

Andy could hear the shower running as he walked past the bathroom. Matt was in there; the singer didn’t know for how long, but it was his chance to snoop. The guitarist had stripped his shirt and pants off, throwing them into his bunk before retreating to the small bathroom. The rest of the guys were upfront, watching some B-list horror movie and drinking beers, leaving the singer alone.

He glanced over at the wooden door, assuring himself that it wouldn’t swing open all of a sudden before climbing into the older man’s bunk. Part of him felt guilty, this was an invasion of privacy, but then again had Matt not invaded his? Fair is fair. He grabbed the black skinny jeans Matt had been wearing, pulling a folded blue pamphlet out of one of the pockets.

Andy’s heart raced as he unfolded it, his eyes scanning the piece of paper. ‘Eating disorders in adults and teens’ it read in white bolded letters. What the fuck… He flipped it over, there were numbers listed, definitions, and a section called ‘warning signs’. The anxiety turned to rage; so that’s what Matt was talking to the doctor about behind his back? What made him think he had any right to assume shit like that, let alone say something to his doctor?

The singer grabbed his batman lighter from his pocket, flicking the flame open and holding the piece of paper above it. The edged turned black as it burned, ashes falling onto the bedsheets. His eyes fixated on the flame as the words disappeared, turning to ash. He blew it out before it reached his fingertips, letting the last of it fall onto the bed. He tossed his lighter on top, wanting Matt to know just what he thought about his little intervention. He couldn’t trust anyone.

Matt toweled his hair off, making his way into the bunk area. The air smelled strange like something was burning. Who the fuck would be lighting fires on a tour bus? The guitarist pulled the curtain to his back, muttering a quiet ‘what the fuck’ when he saw the ashes littering his sheets.

His heart stopped when he saw Andy’s lighter sitting on top of the pamphlet remnants, the source of the smell obvious. Fuck…