The Rhythm of Our Broken Hearts (Andy/Matt)

Chapter Two: Beautiful Disguise

Andy winced at the sunlight pouring in through the blinds, a pothole in the road further jarring him awake. The singer’s head was throbbing, and his throat felt raw and inflamed. He didn’t remember the last time he woke up feeling like a functional human being, most mornings started like this one. As soon as he opened his eyes it was a desperate race to stop the shaky sick feeling that he had convinced himself was anything but an addiction. This was what the life of a rockstar was supposed to be like, was it not? Drink all night, fall asleep just as the sun was coming up, sleep till 2 PM and then do it all over again.

He slowly sat up, the throbbing in his head only intensifying, blurring his vision. Matt was asleep beside him, his back facing the younger man. A jolt of panic shot through Andy; he searched his brain for the memories of the previous night. Everything was a blur after the fourth shot. He and Matt didn’t- did they?

No, they couldn’t of, Matt had probably just crashed on their bus. Andy bit at his lip, even just the thought that something more might have happened made him nervous. He knew that his friendship with Matt was close… probably closer than most ‘straight’ guys were with their friends. It wasn’t the first time Andy had experienced something like that, he’d had a lot of friendships with other guys that were characterized by intense emotions and an almost obsession with each other. Then it would just be over, never to see each other again, and it would leave Andy with an empty feeling in his chest that he tried to fill with anything that would make him feel alive again.

He told himself he was straight, that he liked women. He’d slept with women before, a handful of times. The first time was when he was fifteen with this older girl he knew. All of his friends had said how amazing it felt, they talked about it constantly, tits and pussy that’s all they seemed to care about. Andy played along, ignoring the fact that the entire time it was happening he was just hoping for it to be over. Then there was the girl he was with when he moved to LA, he told himself he loved her, but he wasn’t sure if that was true. The last time was on the last tour, he was blackout drunk at a strip club the guys had wanted to go to. The woman, apparently a fan of the band, brought him back to a private room. He didn’t even finish, but that was just the alcohol he told himself. He just hadn’t met the right woman yet, or maybe he just wasn’t into sex.

He let people think he was this big player, the number of women that threw themselves at him made it easy to lie. The truth was that he hadn’t even kissed someone in months. The rest of his band seemed content with the quick one-night stands that were the norm. A new girl every night, there was no shame, no reason to try and please them. Odds were that they’d never see them again, just meaningless fucking, because anything more was just too messy and complicated. Dating wasn’t exactly easy for a touring musician. Even if you were lucky enough to find someone that didn’t just want you for clout or money, it was hard to make things work being gone most the year. Who wants to date someone that isn’t there for holidays, birthdays, and date nights? Constantly having to worry that they might be drawn to temptation.

That didn’t stop the singer from longing for something more than one-night connections. He’d been lonely most of his life, when he was younger it was because no one would give him the time of day. He was the awkward fat kid that the girls made fun of and the guys beat up. Now that he was considered conventionally attractive it was his career that kept him from having someone to give his heart a home. It made him feel sad, of all the people who adored him and said they loved him, none of them really knew him. Everyone just knew the mask he wore; therefore, they didn’t really love him, they loved it. Behind all the flashy clothes and makeup, behind the tough front and bad boy act was a heart desperate to be accepted and loved.

Matt groaned, turning over onto his back and rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He cursed himself for letting Andy talk him into doing all of those shots. He was getting too old for this shit; he’d had his wild partying days of binges and benders. When you’re just starting out everyone thinks they can go forever. Then you mature and realize what you’re doing to yourself, that’s not what music is. There’s no art in getting drunk every night and not remembering what you did.

“Fuck, man, how much did we drink last night.” The guitarist moaned, pushing his long brown hair back.

“Hell, if I remember… god, I feel like absolute shit. My fucking throat is on fire.”

“That’s because you puked after all those shots dude.” Matt laughed, parts of the night starting to come back to him.

“I did not. I can hold my liquor.” Andy shot back, his eyes starting to adjust to the sunlight.

“Uh, yes you did. I was there. I had to basically drag you into the men’s room. You really don’t remember that?”

“Whatever” Andy huffed, rolling his eyes.

Matt didn’t push the subject anymore. He knew that Andy drank a lot, it wasn’t exactly a well-kept secret. Maybe it was just the fact that it was the first night of the tour, and everyone went a little overboard, but he couldn’t push the worry from his mind that perhaps the rumors were true. He’d been hearing whispers from various people that Andy was getting worse, drunk almost all the time. He hadn’t noticed anything for himself, but then again, he’d been wrapped up in getting D.R.U.G.S up and running lately. He was Andy’s best friend, surely if the kid needed help, he’d reach out to him?

“I’m going to go wash all this shit off,” Andy said, motioning to the smeared paint on his face, his legs feeling weak as he stood up.

The younger man made his way out of the back, his balance still off. Most of the guys were still asleep in their bunks, except for Jake who was upfront, working on his laptop. Andy pushed the door to the small bathroom open, locking it behind himself. It was like standing in a coat closet, you barely had enough room to turn around. It had the essentials though, a sink, shower, and toilet. Sure as fuck beat when they were touring in a van, using disgusting truck stop bathrooms.

Andy turned the water on, looking at his reflection in the mirror while he waited for it to get semi-warm enough. His blue eyes were bloodshot and his hair was a tangled mess. Black eyeliner and red lipstick were smeared over his face and his cheeks looked sunken in and hallow. He turned to the side, examining his torso. Clear indentions marked each of his ribs, and his bony shoulders and clavicles jutted out of his pale skin. He poked at his lower stomach which was bloated from the night of binge drinking. It was always the thing he was most self-conscious about; you wouldn’t know it from the things he wore, but every time he looked in the mirror all he could see was that thirteen-year-old ‘fluffy’ kid.

A wave of nausea distracted him, his knuckles turned white as he gripped the sides of the sink, dry heaving. His chest ached from the act, a familiar morning ritual that he had honestly gotten used to. Once the feeling had passed, he stripped off the spandex leggings and belts and got into the shower. He didn’t enjoy waking up every morning feeling like death, but he hated being sober more. It was the tradeoff he had to pay.

The water ran black as he scrubbed the paint from his face and skin, starting to feel better now that he was at least clean. Day-old makeup and hairspray were enough to make anyone feel like a piece of shit. His peace and quiet was interrupted by CC banging on the door, yelling that he had to piss. One bathroom for five dudes was probably the worst part of touring, definitely didn’t make for the glamourous rockstar life everyone envisioned.

“Give me a fucking minute,” Andy called back, turning the water off and wrapping a towel around his waist before opening the door.

Matt glanced over as Andy walked out in a towel, making his way into the back of the bus again. The older man had finally drug himself out of bed, joining Jinxx upfront for a much-needed cup of coffee. He flipped through social media on his phone, replying to a few fans that were talking about the previous night’s show. It was only when Andy reemerged a while later that Matt’s attention was finally drawn away from his phone.

The singer had gotten dressed in his street clothes which consisted of black skinny jeans and a tank top that he’d cut up. His hair was brushed and straightened, falling down over his pale shoulders and his eyelids were dusted with black eyeshadow. Andy had an elegance about him that drew people in, even without all the theatrics that normally encompassed his stage look he was memorizing. Matt was pretty sure that most of the people in the scene who talked shit about him, were just jealous.

Andy nodded to the guys, making his way over to the liquor cabinet and picked up a bottle of white wine, popping the cork before coming to sit down beside the older man. Matt was slightly caught off guard by the wine, neither of them had been up for more than an hour and given the night they just had, the last thing Matt wanted was alcohol. None of the other guys seemed surprised at the singer’s choice of breakfast, either that or they just didn’t care.

“Want some?” Andy asked, offering the bottle to Matt.

“I haven’t even eaten yet, and I’m pretty sure I’m still drunk from last night.” Matt laughed, putting his hand up.

Andy shrugged and took another long drink from the bottle. He could sense Matt’s concern even though it was clear his friend was trying to hide it. The last time they’d spent more than a few hours together Andy really only drank after shows, well things had changed. A lot had changed…

By the time the buses reached the venue, Andy was well past wine drunk, having finished the entire bottle. If it wasn’t for how concerning it was, Matt would have been impressed, to say the least. The downside of having drunk that much though was that he now lacked the coordination it took to do his stage makeup. He could barely walk in a straight line, let alone paint some elaborate design on his face with eyeliner.

Matt found it oddly amusing watching the singer curse and throw the brush down before grabbing a makeup wipe and starting over. The rest of the band was ready, but Andy had been at it for over an hour, only growing increasingly frustrated with each attempt.

“Dude, you guys are on in like twenty minutes. Just say fuck it, no one is going to see it up close anyways” Matt laughed, walking over and leaning against the bathroom wall to get a better view of the shit show.

Andy had one eye down and was struggling to get the spikes on the other to match. The normally flawless lines were crooked and uneven. The guitarist was thankful that he could just roll out of bed and walk on stage, made things much less complicated.

“Shut the fuck up,” Andy growled, shooting a glare at his friend.

“Here, fuck let me do it.”

“Do you even know how to use this shit?” Andy asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I mean I’ve seen you do it enough, besides can’t be any worse than how you’re fairing.” Matt chuckled, taking the brush and eyeliner from Andy before he could protest.

Huffing, Andy gave in, turning to face Matt and praying for the best as the man went to work. He watched as the older man bit his lip, deep in concentration as he made flicking movements with the brush. Within a few minutes, his eyes were done, and Matt moved on to the stitches.

“I’m going to look like a clown.” Andy groaned teasingly.

“Isn’t that what you’re going for?” Matt chuckled, his lips twisting up in a smile as he examined his work.

Matt searched through Andy’s makeup bag until he found the singer’s famous red lipstick. Andy had the most perfect lips that he’d ever seen on a person, guy or girl, and the ruby red color just made them pop even more. Matt hesitated for a second, waiting for Andy to insist that he could do this part himself, but he just tilted his head back, parting his lips slightly.

The alcohol was clouding Andy’s judgment and his inhibitions were nonexistent. His heart skipped a beat as Matt grabbed his jaw, tracing the outline of his lips with the lipstick. There was something about the moment that felt… forbidden, dangerous, and exciting.

Matt struggled to keep his composure as he filled in Andy’s lips, trying not to notice the way Andy’s eyes were set on him. The thought crossed his mind of just kissing the younger man, saying ‘fuck it’ and seeing where it led. The look in Andy’s eyes said he wouldn’t stop him, was Andy waiting for him to make the first move? If he was, he would have to wait because better judgment prevailed as Matt finished up just in time to restrain himself from making a mistake.

“There. Not too bad if I do say so myself.”

Andy turned around, examining Matt’s handiwork in the mirror. “It’ll do, I guess.” He smirked, opening his mouth to say something else before John burst through the greenroom doors and yelled at him that he needed to get his ass on stage.

Matt let out a small sigh of relief, readjusting his pants as Andy rounded the corner. He laid back on the couch and kicked his feet up, staring up at the ceiling and trying to get the mental image of just what those perfect lips could do out of his head.