Chapter Text
Never believe that anything is absolutely certain. That was a lesson that Gene Simmons was soon destined to learn all too jarringly.
Of course, it was a lesson that he never quite saw coming – after all, everything seemed absolutely fine. In fact, if he had been asked, he would have said that everything was great! Well… perhaps he might have made a COUPLE of mistakes in Rock Bottom that evening, but it wasn’t like anyone but him had even noticed the errors. Yep, everything was going great for him, there was nothing that could even POSSIBLY go wrong, and that horrible feeling he’d had ever since the start of the tour that something was, in fact, going to go wrong was absolutely unfounded and there was nothing to worry about whatsoever! He was just being dramatic… right?
Yeah, no. No matter how many times Gene repeated that in his head, trying to convince himself of it, it just wasn’t quite sticking. Probably because of the nightmares that had been plaguing him for weeks now, nightmares of his bandmates getting kidnapped and stabbed and, on one rather unfortunately memorable occasion, being burnt alive. There was no need for him to worry the others about it, though, since none of them seemed to be worried in any way. He just hoped that none of them – Paul especially, that man had a somewhat frustrating habit of being able to read him like an open book – were able to see through the fake smile he struggled to plaster on every time one of them so much as looked in his direction.
“Gene, are you alright? You look… really tired.”
Well, shit. There it was. Paul had done it again. Gene had to silently commend himself a little, though. Through all the weeks of sleepless nights, it had taken this long for his mask of ‘being fine’ to slip long enough for his best friend to notice that anything was wrong. But still… he would have found out one way or another. Gene never could bring himself to hide anything from Paul permanently, not when he always looked at him with so much trust, honesty and kindness. Not when nothing he could ever say to Paul would change anything about their friendship. Hell, Paul would help him commit a murder if Gene asked nicely enough. It would… absolutely destroy him to actually lose Paul like he had been doing over and over like clockwork every night in his mind. It would tear him apart to lose the man he’d long since started to consider as not just his best friend, but his brother. Actually, if he was honest, all of his bandmates were his brothers in his eyes, no matter how infuriating and annoying some of them often happened to be. He wouldn’t change anything about them for the world.
Staring off aimlessly at the wall opposite him, Gene felt rather than saw someone sit down next to him, close enough for their leg to be pressed against his, and it almost surprised Gene that he knew – without even having to look – that it was Paul. Almost instinctually, he relaxed into his friend’s side, his head falling onto Paul’s shoulder. Yeah, this was comfortable enough. If he closed his eyes now, he just might be able to get some peaceful sleep for once…
“PAUL DANIEL FREHLEY, COME BACK HERE, YOU ASSHOLE! GIVE THAT BACK!”
Ah. Of course. Peace is never anything more than a fleeting concept when you happen to be around Ace and Peter. Cracking open his eyes with great reluctance, he saw two blurs rush past him – Ace, moving surprisingly quickly for a man still in his stage platforms, holding Peter’s shirt high above his head and cackling triumphantly, and Peter, chasing relentlessly after him, looking more and more like he wanted to just push the Spaceman over by the second. Out of the corner of his eye, though, he saw Paul… wink in Peter’s direction? That was certainly rather odd. He didn’t have long to dwell on it though, because Ace and Peter were passing by them again, and Paul stuck his leg out, and suddenly Ace was sprawled out on the floor, allowing Peter the perfect opportunity to slip in and snatch his shirt from the Spaceman’s grasp. Ace groaned into the carpet, more out of annoyance than any kind of pain, and lifted his head to stare at Paul in what could only be described as sheer betrayal. His gaze softened into something more closely resembling concern, though, when his eyes flicked over to Gene in the hope of some kind of backup, and instead was met with the sight of the Demon not even trying to conceal his exhaustion anymore. Scrambling up off the floor, he flopped into the open space next to Gene with a pointed sigh. “Hey, Genie, what’s up? You look so tired… wait, are you sick?” he asked worriedly, a hand resting on Gene’s arm, “why didn’t you tell us that you were sick? You don’t have to force yourself to perform…”
Gene shook his head quickly. He didn’t exactly WANT to tell his bandmates about his nightmares, but even Peter was looking concerned now, and he didn’t want to end up misleading them, so he didn’t really have much choice in the matter, did he. “I just… keep having this awful feeling that something’s going to go wrong for us…” he admitted after a moment, so quietly he wasn’t even sure if the others had heard what he’d said, but then Paul’s arm wrapped around his shoulders, and Ace squeezed his forearm. “Don’t worry about it, Genie! Everything’s going to be fine,” the Spaceman said with a grin, “we’re on our way to the stars and nothing can stop us – you’ll see!” Paul and Peter nodded almost in sync, and Gene, feeling a little reassured for the first time in what felt like forever, found himself nodding too.
-
As it turned out, Gene was absolutely right to have been worried about something going wrong. Since they’d returned from the venue to their hotel and split off for the night, the horrible feeling that had settled itself in his chest had only intensified – and now, as he watches the flames flicker and dance almost hypnotically, he knew why.
The flames were growing, the smoke was thickening, and there was only one, terrifying thought in his mind – he couldn’t find his bandmates anywhere.
“Paul?” he all but screamed, wincing at the feeling of the smoke clawing and scratching at his throat, “Ace? Peter? Where the hell are you guys, this isn’t funny!” It was all he could do to even partially ignore the frantic, panicked pounding of his heart as his eyes darted around, looking for even a glimpse of something, someone, that a small part of him was certain he was never going to find. There he was, surrounded by dozens and dozens of people, yet still feeling more alone than he ever had before in his life, because his brothers were missing. Except….
No, it couldn’t be… could it? He couldn’t be that lucky… and yet, as far as he could tell, it was! “Peter!” he cried out joyfully, pushing and shoving his way through the crowd towards where he thought he saw the Catman standing lost and alone, transfixed by the flames. Just a little further, and he’d be able to pull Peter into his arms, and maybe shout at him a little for making him panic like that. Just a little-
Abruptly, someone collided with his side, very nearly knocking him to the ground. Anger bubbling in his chest, he spun around to face the culprit… and was met with a gaze as frantic and terrified as he was certain that his own must be. Mismatched eyes met his – one a brilliant white – and the man barely even waited to stammer out a hurried apology before pushing past him in the direction Gene had just come from, calling out in a shaking voice for someone who’s name he didn’t quite catch, but he was certain that it started with an A. Gene couldn’t find it in himself to be mad at him for almost knocking him over – after all, he himself was in quite the same situation. Quickly, he looked back to where he knew he’d seen Peter, and saw… nothing. There was no sign of the drummer being there, no sign that he had ever been there in the first place. For all intents and purposes, Peter was gone.
Gene’s heart ached. Where was Peter? Where were the others? What had happened to them? “ACE FREHLEY, YOU’D BETTER FUCKING ANSWER ME!” he screamed hoarsely, feeling his voice fading away by the minute, but once again he found that there was no response to be heard. Once again, he was met by a silence amongst the chaos that he could only wish was filled by the voices he was so desperate to hear again. He closed his eyes, thoughts wandering back to the nightmare he’d had of his bandmates burning alive. Was that not a dream, but some kind of twisted premonition? Could he have prevented this whole mess from happening?
A horrible cracking sound began to fill the air, drawing horrified gasps from everybody around him. His eyes snapped open, and he was met with a sight that he was sure was going to haunt him for the rest of his life. He could only watch, not even daring to breathe, as the burning hotel finally gave up, collapsing inwards onto itself. Gene didn’t want to think about the implications of that combined with the fact he couldn’t find his friends. He didn’t want to think about how they were most likely trapped inside when the roof caved in. Maybe, if he wished hard enough to find them, they’d come running towards him and everything would be okay again. Maybe then, it wouldn’t feel as if he was collapsing himself.
He felt his foot slide on… something on the floor. Somewhat intrigued, he looked down, and then he immediately wished that he hadn’t. Underneath his foot was a jacket that perhaps once might have been purple. It was charred, and it was bloodstained, but the embroidery on the back was something that Gene knew well.
The jacket… was Paul’s.
It was at that moment that Gene’s heart finally shattered. This couldn’t be happening, it just couldn’t be! Maybe this was just another one of his nightmares, and if he closed his eyes long enough, he’d wake up and everything would be fine again. He let his eyes fluttered closed… but as the seconds passed, and nothing changed, he realised that this was real, and that alone was worse than all of his nightmares combined. Paul was his best friend, his family, they were meant to have the rest of their lives together! It wasn’t meant to end like this! Paul wasn’t supposed to be missing, Paul wasn’t supposed to be…
That was it, wasn’t it. Paul was dead. So was Peter, and so was Ace. How ironic, that the very thing he toyed around with on stage almost every night would wind up taking three of the most important people in his life away from him. Shakily, he bent down and picked Paul’s damaged jacket up off the ground, bringing it close to his chest before hiding his face in it, not wanting the strangers around him to see him start to cry. God, what he wouldn’t give right now to have Paul safe in his arms, instead of just his jacket. Not sure what else to do, and not wanting to linger near the place where his bandmates had died, he turned on his heel and ran. As a consequence, he never heard the voice calling out his name, the voice that still hadn’t had the chance to truly shine on stage, and now may never would.
Gene ran and ran until the exhaustion finally caught up to him and his legs gave out under him, causing him to fall to the ground outside a building he hadn’t come across before in his rather limited time in this city. The music trickling out from inside, however, was almost painfully familiar to him. After all, it was one of Paul’s favourite songs, the one he’d often sing off stage just because he felt like it. He’d been planning on asking Paul if he wanted to incorporate the song into their setlist… but now, he was never going to get that chance.
“It ain’t always what it seems, when you cling onto a dream…”
Well, wasn’t that just fucking ironic. He’d clung onto the KISS dream with everything he had, and now look at him. Lost, alone, probably stinking of smoke, in a city as unfamiliar to him as most of the others he’d performed in. He might as well get used to his surroundings, though, because it wasn’t like he would be going anywhere any time soon. KISS was – by nature – a group, not a solo act, so there was no chance of him finishing the tour off on his own. And besides, he knew that if he so much as tried to put his makeup on, let alone his stage costume, the grief would hit him harder than ever. Maybe Ace had been right after all, maybe they had reached the stars…
That had to be it. Oh, Ace and his stupid space references. KISS had been a star all along… but they were a supernova from the very beginning. Shining brightly, yet destined to fade away all too soon, leaving only one thing behind in its wake. Gene.
He was alone now, wasn’t he. Alone forever, and there was nothing that he could do to change it. No more rude awakenings from Peter, who found it hilarious to quite literally drag Gene out of bed in the strangest ways possible. No more little moments under the stars with Ace, listening to him tell stories about his home planet, and his adventures in the stars before he had – supposedly – crashed to Earth and subsequently met the three greatest friends he could ever have asked for. No more shared glances between him and Paul on stage, reminding each other that yes. This is where they’d always been destined to be – on stage. Together.
With what little remained of his closest friend bundled up in his arms, his face pressed into the fabric that remained perplexingly soft even after surviving a fire, he found that he couldn’t hold it back any longer. And so, on a cold, dark street in a place whose name escaped him, Gene began to sob.