Chapter Text
The bassist woke up abruptly and as soon as he opened his eyes, a frown appear above them, being obviously annoyed with whatever that woke him up from perfect sleep he was having.
That "whatever" was a burning feeling inside him, very similar to nausea. John immediately recognised the deal and he quickly sat on the edge of the bed and with his feet, in a very skilled way, brought the bin that was aside the nightstand to put him between his legs and wait for the fucking vomit to come out.
He waited and he waited but nothing happened. He didn't even had the acid taste on his mouth or the disgusting burn down his throat. When he realised, the burning feeling that woke him up just disappeared.
Well that was odd, he thought as he pushed the bin back to its place by playfully kicking it.
When he was about to lay back on the bed again, the burning feeling appeared again, he focused on where it was coming from and he noticed it was not his stomach but his chest. It was a piercing feeling and it was certainly a discomfort but it didn't seem to hurt as he was feeling no pain at all.
He stared at his feet thinking about what could be the cause of such feeling, but before his mind could draw any dramatic conclusion, he convinced himself that he just probably slept funny and one of his hands went under his chest while sleeping.
He stood from the bed and took a quick look at his surroundings trying to remember where the hell he was and he quickly recalled that they were still on Canada but he couldn't quite remember the city, but he was sure it was Québec.
They were right in the middle of a North America tour and it was going rather pleasant. No major fights or arguments and everyone seemed have a good time.
Well, there has been a little argument just after today's show between Simon and Nick and John had to admit that was rare, very rare, but it seemed to be that Simon screwed up the lyrics of the majority of songs in the show and that upset Nick. He didn't even realised- well, he did heard the lyrics that Simon was singing were not the usual ones but he simply thought that the older man was just improvising.
Because of the fact that Nick and Simon were both his best friends, John took no one's side, but he had to admit that now was regretting not taking Simon's side because the blonde just got told off so badly for something that he rarely does and he knows how hard Nick can be when he wants to.
After that the atmosphere wasn't very comfortable so everyone went back to the hotel without going to party because nobody was really feeling it after the argument.
John, naturally, felt like something was missing so he drank by himself and watched movies until he dropped dead on the bed for, a few hours later, being woken up by a nauseous feeling and here he was, putting some clothes on as he gave up to the idea of going back to sleep.
"4:12 am" He said outloud as he turned his head from the clock on the wall. Since he was definitely not going back to sleep, he figured that maybe he can go to the bar and have something a little bit strong to help him to relax at least because this burning feeling on his chest was still present.
He got out of his room with a sigh as he walked down the halls to the elevator.
He wondered about his bandmates on the way down. Are they fast asleep? Or are they having a hard night like he was having? Is Simon alright? Is Nick alright? He guessed that he'd find out in the morning at breakfast before checking out.
Shortly before they doors of the elevator opened he turned to the mirror that was inside and combed his hair a little bit, he didn't want to appear as he just woke up, even though everyone- people that was up at this hour- would know that was exactly the case.
The first thing he noticed when he walked off the elevator, was that the hotel was, and felt, empty and that made him feel as if he wasn't supposedly to be awake. In the reception was just the night guard and a lady getting ready to work, he greeted both as he continued his way to the bar.
In the bar there was a little bit more of movement. There were the bartenders. Some people in very expensive suits having a coffee. Others just getting a drink and some girls that, judging by the way they were dressed, the just came back from some party and they were having what is called an 'after party' since, in the table they were sat in, there were cocktails but surprisingly they were being very quiet and laughing softly without making so much noise.
He walked closer to the main counter and he ordered a straight vodka, maybe that could calm that annoying feeling on his chest that, as a matter of fact, was starting to fade now. When the bartender gave him his drink, he just sat on the stool and he turned a bit to observe the bar area, he loved the things that can happen in the room without expecting them. After he took his first sip, he lowered the glass and suddenly he spotted something that made him arch both eyebrows.
In a table, not so far away from the bloke who was drinking a coffee in his expensive suit, there was a guy with his head on the table, facing the half closed window and he looked completely wasted, but that wasn't what shock him really. The thing that shock John, was that the table was half filled with different bottles and different glasses, some were half empty, others full and others just empty, the same with the bottles.
Poor sod, he thought before taking another sip. Although, he hated to admit but he understands the feeling of when you can't shake out the sadness with just one drink. He understood him and that was enough for starting to unconsciously care about that guy and that's why John kept looking at him with the corner of his eye to see if he was alright or if he was just asleep or if he passed out.
He never realised when the burning chest feeling stopped.
He kept observing him between sips and when his eyes detected movement coming from that table, his eyes went directly to him but, he took another sip of his vodka to use the glass as a shield to not be so obvious about the fact that John was shamelessly looking at him.
Suddenly the vodka didn't go correctly down his throat as he started to cough making the bartender approach to him to ask him if he was alright. He didn't respond, he only could nod while his eyes were fixed on the 'poor sod' that has just lifted his head to take another sip from one of his drinks.
"Simon?"