Changes

"So..."

Mike looked at Jay, who was lounging on the hood of the battered car that he'd driven across the country at breakneck speed.

"You're a bass player." Jay told him, as if Mike wouldn't know.
"Yes. Do you play?"
"Bass? Yes. I play everything."

Mike looked at him suspiciously.

"How many drugs are you on?"
"I believe the question is, what drugs aren't I on?" Jay looked at Mike seriously, gauging his reaction.
"You been through rehab?"
"Yep. Doctor pronounced me uncurable."

Jay looked down at his feet, then back up at Mike.

"Can I tell you something?"

Mike sighed.

"Sure. Go ahead."
"Sometimes, when I'm trashed and awake in the middle of the night, I think about...stuff. And I know I'm going to die."
"No, you're not." Mike told him, but Jay shook his head, looking at the sky.
"I am...ever heard of Def Leppard?"

The complete randomness of the question threw Mike. He nodded slowly. Jay laughed.

"I worship that band. Steve Clark...the man was an absolute genius on guitar...and you know the most fucked up thing about it? I'm JUST like that guy. Can't stop drinking, can't stop using..."

Mike jumped up on the car next to Jay.

"It was like that for me...but I checked into rehab, got help. You could-"
"Don't you get it? When I'm not on drugs, I'm not me. I've been clean, and wanted to shoot myself in the head."
"You could get clean if you wanted." Mike said stubbornly.

Jay laughed.

"Getting clean to me is like if I told you that you could never see Billie and Tre again. Never play music with them, never talk to them again, never see them again."

Mike choked on his cigarette smoke.

"See? You're just not yourself without them. As much as I hate that I'm this dependant on drugs...I need them."

They were silent for a moment. Then Mike turned to Jay.

"I'm not going to let you die."
"You know, I deserve to. Probably be better for everyone if I did. I know you guys don't want me here, don't really like me. Marty...Marty's dead. And I can't ever go back home. Better off..."

Jay took a long drag on his cigarette, then jumped off the hood. Before he got into the driver's seat, Mike grabbed his arm.

"Where are you going?"
"To get good and drunk."
"I'm coming with you."
"Why?"
"Because I give a shit about what happens to my friends."

Jay smiled. It was a beautiful smile.

"Just let me go tell Billie where we're going."

Mike walked away, trying his hardest to ignore the happy feeling in the pit of his stomach. In fact, he missed the doopy look on Jay's face completely.

~~~

"Drink this."

Tony took the cup and drained it in one gulp. Then she looked at him seriously.

"How are you feeling?"
"Stupid."
"You aren't stupid. And that scream, Tony, that was perfection."
"Thanks." She whispered and pulled him down onto the bed next to her.

"Can you...can you just hold me, please?"
"How does this help?" Billie asked her, gently kissing her forehead.
"Lani once told me that hugs fix everything, even broken people."
"That's very romantic."
"Maybe you'll write a song about it."

Billie propped himself up on the pillow, looking down at her. She looked horribly drained, horribly weak. Tony reached up a hand, playing with his hair. Billie hadn't put any sort of gel in it before he'd gone after Tony and it had dried and puffed out around his head like some sort of halo.

"I like your hair like that."
"Tony...are you even remotely close to being alright?"

She looked at him seriously.

"No...but I'm in the ballpark. So can you please just kiss me and pretend everything's alright?"