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His eyes closed with ease for a second, blowing the smoke trail upwards and watching intently as it faded away. He continued to breathe in the silence, at least that’s what he tried, for just a momentary of peace, but his eyes landed every second or so back on his wrist watch to check the time, impatiently tapping his feet as he did.
11:20
It hadn’t even been a full hour since he arrived and each time he looked over the time, it made him more pissed than anything, time moved unbearably slow even for him. The clouds above had lightened up a bit, allowing for the sun to slightly peek itself through the dense bush of grey clouds. He checked the time again.
11:23
Now it just felt as if time was purposefully pissing him off. Going as slow as possible. Though he couldn’t put most of the blame on it, really, what made him confused and slightly aggravated however was that those kids haven’t shown up. None of them really, for someone who knew them well, this wouldn’t seem all too surprising, but they knew when to get serious, when they wanted to be that is. They were very capable of keeping up with schedules, events and such, so for them to purposely leave him without any word on their whereabouts was more than out of their usual character.
As if engraved into his routine, he checked his watch once more, then glanced around hoping to catch even the slightest of glimpse or hope that at least one member would show their face around here soon. Nothing though, just as he feared. They wouldn’t just stand up something like this, heck they were all jumping around like wild rabbits days before when they had informed him of the new songs they wrote, now they weren’t even capable enough to call him? Maybe they had caught the flu, but all of them at the same time? Probably not, even with the various diseases they always seemed to carry with them.
Kidnapped maybe? Held up in a warehouse somewhere and him just waiting on getting a call from the perpetrators for ransom money? They were always at each other's sides and could easily manage themselves out of any complicated situation so that didn’t seem all too likely either.
He had to sigh, those kids were gonna be the end of him one day, he knew it so well. His hair was already starting to grey thanks to them. Jochen’s head perked up, eyes darting over to the fiery Red Opel stopping right before the stairs to the studio.
Just as he got his hopes up once more, where they shattered in just a split second. Sadly, It was only Trini who stepped out from the driver’s seat, rubbing his eyes in exhaustion as he greeted Jochen. Though his voice sounded too groggy for any proper word to have been heard clearly. Or maybe his ears were now beginning to fail him as well.
Nonetheless, he kept his eyes on the former drummer as he raised one hand, “Morning” he replied in a dry manner, rubbing his eyes as he slammed the door of the driver seat shut, heading up to Jochen as he decided to pose the question to him, “You seen the boys anywhere?”
“Them?” Trini responded, stopping on the stairs as his expression didn’t even change due to his fatigue and foggy mind, “They ain’t here?” trying to register the current situation. Jochen shook his head, concern etched ever more on his face at the fact that even Trini was just as clueless over where they could be, “They didn’t check in to the hotel last night?”
“Not even one call.” Jochen responded, flicking his cigarette onto the ground, as his eccentric dressed Friend got to the top, leaning against the railing as he worked on getting his brain up to track, going over each event that happened last night.
“Any chance that they might still be hanging around at a club, a party maybe?” Jochen ventured, putting his hands into the pockets of his jeans.
Trini on the other hand, looked up to the sky lost in thought as he scratched the back of his head, “Uhh.. Mm” he eventually shrugged, unsure.
“Where did you even come from?”
“Oh shit – Michi’s place! That’s right,” he finally remembered, his brain catching up. That was it. The one theory that was as usual the likeliest thing that must have happened, knowing them, those kids were like unauthorised kindergartners when they got too fired up at a party.
He pressed on further, the frustration already starting to bubble up, “So you think they still could be there?”
Trini mumbled, crossing his arms on the railing as he looked out onto the city with a tired expression furthermore, as if he was somewhere else, lost in his own thoughts, “Eh - You know they can't handle their booze when they’ve had too much” he didn’t really see it as that much of a problem, if he was honest. It was their own fault if they failed their own responsibilities, it wasn't as if they could do much in changing their habits.
Jochen sighed, stopping, even though he was growing worried, as he was making his way down the stairs, “Can we at least go and check out if they’re still there?”
The former drummer raised his hands in defence, “Alright, alright, take it easy grandpa.” he called out, the two eventually venturing down the stairs and right into Trini’s Opel.
The drive to Michi’s place was rather silent, the occasional hum of the engine the only sound between them as Jochen’s worry hung in the air like a storm cloud, while Trini remained calm, leaning back in the driver's seat as if he had all the time in the world.
When they finally did pull up in front of the apartment building, Jochen didn’t wait. He swung open the passenger door and sprinted up the stairs, his anxiety driving him forward. All while Trini followed at a more leisurely pace, hands shoved into his jacket pockets.
Having reached the floor, the two immediately got a glimpse at the door to the apartment where the supposed party had taken place that was wide open. Jochen froze. The scene before them looked like something out of a disastrous movie.
The hallway from the inside was littered with overturned furniture, empty beer bottles, and discarded clothes. A couple of lamps and vases had been knocked over, casting the floor in a danger hazard of broken shards while Music still played faintly from somewhere inside, but it was muffled and slow, like a party that had gone long dead.
Jochen was the first to take a step inside, making sure to step over an unconscious man as he exchanged a look with the former drummer who leaned against the front door, “Damn, what happened here?” he wondered.
“When did you even leave the party?” Jochen asked, kneeling down beside the man on the floor to check for a pulse, which he luckily still had.
Party streamers and confetti covered the floor, each corner of the apartment covered in all kinds of different liquids, some of puke and some of piss that began to reek. Several people were passed out in various corners, sprawled across couches and the floor as if they'd been hit by a tidal wave.
Trini shrugged, more amused than anything. “At like 9 pm, I think, but the guys wanted to stay for just a little longer,” he said, stepping in after Jochen, his eyes scanning the room for any sign of their missing friends.
The further they ventured in, the more chaos they uncovered. A half-eaten pizza sat abandoned on a table, its box upturned on the carpet. Someone had scrawled random words across the wall with a marker, while broken glass crunched under their shoes as they moved toward the back of the apartment.
Jochen, on edge, checked behind every door, his pulse quickening. “You seeing anyone we know?” he asked, glancing back at Trini, who was casually kicking empty bottles out of his way.
“Nope, but I doubt any of these folks will be giving us answers anytime soon,” Trini said, stepping over a guy passed out with his face buried in a couch cushion. “Wait, there’s Michi.”
Sure enough, near the balcony, Michi lay slumped against the wall, snoring softly, completely out of it. Jochen kneeled beside him and gave him a gentle shake. “Michi, wake up! Where are the others?”
The man stirred, barely opening his eyes. He muttered something incoherent before letting his head flop back against the wall. The Manager stood up, running a hand through his hair as he was left to sigh, “This is a mess,” he muttered, worry flickering in his eyes. He glanced around the room once more, still no sign of their missing friends.
“You think they’re still here somewhere? Or already gone?” Trini asked, though he didn’t seem too invested in the answer.
Jochen didn’t reply right away, stepping toward a room at the end of the hall where the door was only half-closed. He slowly pushed it open, dreading what he might find on the other side. A strange smell, stale beer mixed with something sour hit him as he opened the door.
The room was a mess, posters hung crooked on the walls, one of them peeling off entirely, but he was sure enough that this was supposed to be a bedroom. The floor was cluttered with even more empty bottles, crushed cigarette packs, and a jacket draped over a chair, but it was the many bodies sprawled all across that made his stomach sink further.
People were packed like sardines, huddled together on old mattresses and cushions strewn across the floor. The bed itself had five, maybe six people crammed onto it, limbs tangled and hanging over the edge as if gravity had given up trying to pull them to the floor.
But one figure stood out immediately to Jochen – Campi, passed out, sleeping on his stomach in nothing but his underwear, being dangerously close to falling off the side of the bed. The manager rubbed his forehead, resisting the urge to facepalm in pure frustration.
He was about to step further into the room when another sound reached him, a clear, unsettling noise coming from the bathroom. Someone was in there, retching, and the door was wide open, the horrible sound echoing through the small space. Jochen tensed up, his nerves already on edge.
“Trini,” Jochen said quietly, nodding toward the bathroom. “Go on and check inside. See what’s going on.”
Trini rolled his eyes but gave a short nod. "Got it," he muttered, casually stepping over a pile of people as if it were no big deal. While Jochen stayed back, he could hear the unmistakable sound of someone heaving again. The smell hit him even from a distance, thick and sour, making his stomach churn. He winced as Trini stepped fully into the bathroom, disappearing from view for a moment.
There was a pause, followed by the drummer’s voice. “Well, it’s not one of ours, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
Jochen let out a small breath of relief, though it didn’t completely ease the tension. “Who is it, then?”
Trini emerged from the bathroom doorway, “Some poor guy who clearly didn’t know his limits last night.”
The manager grimaced. “Great.” He glanced back at the mass of bodies on the bed and floor. “Any of the others in there with him?”
Trini shook his head. “Nope. Just him and his regrets.” He leaned against the doorframe, eyeing Campino’s barely clothed state. “We got Campi for now at least”
Jochen sighed, rubbing the back of his neck, “We need to get him dressed, find the others and move. I don’t think I wanna stick around here any longer than we have to.”
Trini smirked. “Good luck waking him up. I don’t think even a nuclear blast would do it.”
Jochen gave a tired sigh, looking down at him. “Guess we’ll find out.” he reached his hand out, putting it on Campi’s shoulder as he began to gently shake him. Half expecting no response, there was however one little reaction to signal that he was at least breathing, the singer groaned softly, shifting a little but showing no signs of wanting to wake up sooner or later.
Meanwhile, Trini, ever the opportunist to avoid some heavy lifting, casually wandered off to explore the rest of the apartment. He stepped over a few more unconscious bodies, making his way toward the kitchen, wondering if there was at least some food left over but to his surprise, the sight that greeted him made him pause, smirking to himself in disbelief.
Andi, ever the master of bad decisions, was slumped over the kitchen table, his head plunged into a large pot filled with some, whatever liquid it was, he didn’t want to get closer to figure it out. Thank god that the bassist had even enough sense in him to remain fully clothed, unlike a certain someone.
“Of course, Andi,” Trini muttered under his breath, shaking his head as he stepped closer. The bassist’s head bobbed slightly as he slept, blowing slight bubbles in the liquid with each snore. The entire scene was absurd, but if he was still breathing, then he had done his job with finding another one.
Two actually, as soon as he got his eyes off Andi’s position, he got wind of Breiti, curled up in a chair right opposite of Andi, equally clothed, holding an inflatable guitar in his arms like it was some prized possession. His arms were wrapped around it tightly, his legs tucked up on the chair while his face was as peaceful as ever despite the chaos around him.
The drummer couldn’t help but chuckle, leaning against the kitchen counter as he crossed his arms. “Well, found two more,” he called out toward the other room. "Andi is taking a nap in a pot, and Breiti’s in love with a blow-up guitar."
Jochen’s voice carried back from the other room, strained with frustration. "Is anyone in this place remotely awake?"
Trini glanced back at Andi, who let out a loud snore, “I’m gonna go with a ‘no’ on that one.”
The manager sighed audibly from the other side of the apartment. "Just try to get them up”
"Yeah, yeah,” Trini replied, though he didn’t seem too rushed. He reached down, giving Breiti a gentle nudge on the shoulder. "Hey, guitar hero, time to wake up."
The guitarist stirred slightly, his arms tightening around the inflatable guitar as if it were his security blanket. He mumbled something incomprehensible and shifted, still not quite ready to let go of whatever dream he was having.
The drummer sighed. "This is gonna be a long morning.” He gave him another firm shake on the shoulder. "Come on, rockstar. Time to get up.”
This time, his eyes finally fluttered open, still half-lidded with fatigue but at least somewhat regaining consciousness, he blinked in confusion at the sight of Trini looming over him. He groaned, hugging the guitar tighter. “Five more minutes,” mumbling, his voice raspy and thick with exhaustion.
Trini snorted, glancing at the guitar, "That guitar ain’t real, man. And if you don’t wake up now, neither is your ride home gonna be."
Breiti’s brows furrowed as he slowly processed the man’s words. He let out a sigh, dropping the guitar as if suddenly realising where he finally was, and rubbed his face with both hands, trying to wipe the sleep from his eyes. "Where… where are we?" he asked groggily, looking around at the wrecked kitchen.
"Good question. Michi’s place, apparently," Trini replied, stepping over to Andi, who was still face-down in the pot. He leaned down and tapped the pot with his knuckles. “And this guy’s taken a dive into the soup.”
Breiti blinked slowly, taking in his friend’s situation with confusion “Is he… is he okay?”
Trini gave the pot another tap, and Andi groaned, lifting his head slightly, his hair dripping with the liquid he’d been submerged in. His face was pale, his expression an obvious mix of disgust over what he had been laying in, “Ugh...what the hell is this?” the bassist croaked, blinking rapidly as he wiped his face with the back of his hand.
"Breakfast, apparently," Trini quipped, smirking, “C’mon, get it together. We’re rounding everyone up before any cops show up.”
Andi leaned back in the chair, looking around as if he was seeing the kitchen for the first time. His eyes were bloodshot, and he looked like he was still fighting off whatever influences he had been under from the night. “What happened last night?”
Breiti let out a tired laugh, still rubbing his face. “Beats me,”
Trini, now standing in the middle of the room with his arms crossed, shook his head. “Seems like everyone forgot, Jochen’s in the other room trying to wake up Campi, and we’re still missing Kuddel and Wölli”
The guitarist sighed, pushing himself to his feet and swaying a bit as he steadied himself on the edge of the table. “Forget about them, they’re probably dead anyways”
“Yeah, no kidding,” Trini said, glancing at Andi, who was still blinking absentmindedly at the pot in front of him, as if both had just been revived from death themselves, “You gonna live, or do we need to call an ambulance?”
The bassist waved him off weakly, running a hand through his wet hair. “I’m fine. Just need... water. And maybe a new head.”
Trini grinned. “Fair enough. Let’s get you upright first.”
As he helped Andi to his feet, Breiti began wandering around the kitchen, picking up discarded bottles and half-eaten food, muttering to himself about the mess, and he knew what he was talking about. He stopped when he noticed a large puddle of something sticky on the floor, frowning as he looked at it, “What even is this?" he asked, sounding genuinely disgusted.
Trini glanced over, barely fazed by the chaos anymore. "Something no one should be going near.”
“Great,” Breiti mumbled, carefully stepping around it. He glanced back toward Trini, now guiding a stumbling Andi toward the front door. “You think Michi’s gonna care about this mess?”
Trini raised an eyebrow. “Michi? He’s probably gonna wake up at noon, think he’s still in a dream, and order breakfast without noticing half the furniture’s missing.”
Breiti laughed, shaking his head. “That sounds about right.”
Just as they were about to leave the kitchen, Jochen’s voice rang out from the other room, “Trini! How’s it going in there?” causing the two to jump a bit to know that their old friend had gone out of his way to find them here. Which also didn’t mean anything good.
“Yeah, we’re on it. Got Breiti and Andi with me. You got Campi up yet?”
There was a pause, then Jochen’s strained voice. “Barely.”
“Typical,” the drummer muttered under his breath as he and the others finally reached the front door. Barely having made it there before Andi caved to the floor, pulling Trini down with him. The sudden drop was unexpected, but what followed was even worse. Andi, looking pale as a ghost, leaned his head against the wall, clearly straining to keep it all inside as his face further contorted, his breath coming in short, panicked bursts.
“Wow, wow, Andi, calm down.” but just as he had said those words, in some effort to comfort his friend, even if it seemed out of character, Andi began to throw up all of his insides. His body heaved as he vomited violently, painting the floor in front of him furthermore with a huge mess.
Trini winced, pulling back slightly but not leaving Andi’s side entirely. “Oohh, that’s nasty... Wow,” he muttered, unable to hide his disgust as the bassist coughed and spat, trembling from the effort of getting it all out. It was a messy scene, but nothing out of their ordinary, yet the stale stench of puke mixed with the lingering smells of alcohol and sweat wasn’t helping anyone.
Breiti, having to stand right next to them, equally grew concerned, pinching the bridge of his nose as he let out a frustrated sigh. "You stay here with him. I’ll go and look for the other two knuckleheads."
“Yeah, sure sure,” Trini responded without looking up, waving the taller boy off.
He slipped away from the scene, making his way down the narrow hall toward the bathroom. Now that he was thinking about it, he did have to take a quick piss too, he wasn’t even quite sure how he had even managed to avoid it all throughout the night. The door was slightly ajar, and he could hear the sound of running water inside. He pushed it open, the sight that greeted him stopping him in his tracks.
Kuddel, wearing nothing but a bright pink bathrobe that barely fit him, was lying inside the bathtub. His limbs were stretched out awkwardly, one leg dangling over the edge, while the other was still halfway in. The robe’s belt was loosely tied, and he looked completely out of it, his mouth slightly open as he stared up at the ceiling, as if lost in thought – or perhaps trying to remember why he had ended up there in the first place.
Breiti blinked, unsure whether to laugh or feel concerned. “Kuddel,” he called out softly, stepping into the bathroom. “What the hell are you doing?”
The guitarist turned his head slowly, squinting at Breiti as if it took all his energy to focus. “Hmm? Oh... just... thinking,” he slurred, waving a limp hand in the air as if that was supposed to explain anything. Either it was from the sheer fatigue that he was under, or he had actually managed to injure something, in some way.
Breiti raised an eyebrow, smirking at the absurdity of it. “And you’re wearing a..?”
Kuddel shrugged lazily, “It’s comfy.”
Before the other guitarist could respond, a sudden noise next to him caught his attention. He turned around to find Wölli, already up and wide awake, standing in front of the bathroom mirror. How did he even miss him? He had shaving cream on his face and was carefully running a razor along his jawline, the picture of calm himself amidst the chaos.
The drummer glanced over at Breiti through the mirror, raising an eyebrow. "Morning," he said casually, as if this was just some normal day. His voice had an edge of surprise. "Didn’t expect to see you up this early."
Breiti blinked in disbelief. “You’re... shaving?”
Wölli gave a nonchalant shrug, wiping the razor on a towel before continuing with his grooming. “Might as well get a head start on the day.”
The guitarist looked between Wölli, so composed and methodical, and Kuddel, sprawled out in the tub like a drunk philosopher contemplating the universe. It was so surreal, he almost couldn’t process it. “You two are in completely different realities right now, aren’t you?”
Wölli could only snort softly, finishing his shave and wiping off the last bits of foam from his face. “You act like that’s new.”
He couldn’t argue with that. Glancing back at Kuddel, who had now started humming to himself, completely oblivious to everything around him. “Alright, well, we need to get moving, Jochen is here and he sounded pretty pissed” Breiti said, clapping his hands lightly. “You good to go?”
The drummer turned, giving himself one last look in the mirror. “Yeah, I’m ready. Kuddel, though...”
Breiti directed his attention back to that, though he was practically speechless at the sight, "Right.. Let’s just, uh” Fortunately, Wölli took it into his own hands without any words, as he crouched down next to the tub, tapping Kuddel on the shoulder, “Hey, buddy, come on, time to get up..” he gently cooed, trying to wake his friend from whatever he was under this time that caught him so out of touch with reality.
Luckily, the guitarist groaned, sitting up slowly, the bathrobe slipping off one shoulder. “You guys do not wanna know what kind of trip I had last night..”
Breiti chuckled, stepping closer to help Wölli pull their friend to his feet. “Can’t be any worse than the ones you’ve already told us about. You think you can stand?” Wölli had already managed to get Kuddel up and out of the tub, though his legs were shaky and unsteady, as if he wasn’t quite sure how walking was supposed to work anymore. He swayed dangerously to the side, his eyes struggling to stay focused. Without missing a beat, Wölli took on the role of acting as a sort of human walking stick, sliding an arm under Kuddel’s to steady him.
The guitarist on the other hand, still wobbly, leaned heavily against him, his bathrobe dragging slightly on the floor as they manoeuvred him toward the door. “I’ve had better mornings,” Kuddel muttered, his head rolling to the side slightly as they moved, his gaze unfocused but his grin still faintly present. “What time is it anyway?”
"Too late for any more of this nonsense," Breiti replied, his tone light but laced with frustration. “We need to get moving before Jochen loses his mind.”
“Wouldn’t be the first time either,” Wölli added, grinning as they helped Kuddel out of the bathroom. He didn’t seem bothered by the added weight of carrying their still-out-of-it friend, more resigned to the fact that this wasn’t the first, and certainly wouldn’t be the last, time this had happened.
As they made their way back into the main room, Breiti cast a glance around at the disaster zone that was Michi’s apartment. It looked like a hurricane had blown through – bottles, cups, random clothing, and a few stray party decorations littered every inch of the floor. The faint smell of spilled alcohol and stale smoke still hung in the air, adding to the already overwhelming mess.
Trini was still by the front door with Andi, who had managed to stop vomiting but was now slumped against the wall, looking pale and shaky. The former Drummer gave an annoyed frown at the state of Kuddel as they approached. “Let me guess, he puked too?”
“Nope, just maybe.. Some drugs” Wölli replied, keeping the guitarist steady.
Jochen reappeared just in time, dragging a half-awake Campi along with him, who was still clearly fast asleep and only in his underwear. “Alright, we got everyone, let’s go!” Jochen grumbled, clearly done with the entire situation and just wanting to get this day over with.
But as if on cue, the universe decided it wasn’t done messing with him just yet.
Breiti, standing by the door, suddenly straightened up as if he remembered something important. “Wait! Oh, I forgot to piss,” he announced, turning back toward the apartment with a sense of urgency.
Standing there, still unable to respond to anything as sure enough, Andi, still pale and shaky, groaned loudly. His face twisted in discomfort, and before anyone could react, he doubled over and vomited once more.
“Oh, for the love of…” Trini stepped back, barely avoiding the splash zone. “Not again!”
Jochen’s shoulders sagged, a defeated sigh escaping his lips as he pinched the bridge of his nose. His patience was being tested in ways he didn’t even think was possible. But things were about to get worse.
Kuddel, still leaning heavily on Wölli, perked up suddenly. “Think there’s any good food left in the kitchen?” he asked, as if he had equally adopted the drummer’s carefree attitude. To which Wölli nodded, “Could be. Worth checking.”
“You two can’t be serious?!” Jochen responded, but sure enough, the two ignored him entirely and wandered back into the kitchen as if this was some casual Sunday morning.
Jochen, unable to believe what was happening, let out a growl of frustration.
Breiti returned from the bathroom just in time to see the chaos unfold, casually zipping up his pants as if nothing unusual was going on. "What's the holdup?" he asked, oblivious to the fact that Jochen was moments away from exploding.
The manager shot the guitarist a look that could easily kill. “You are the holdup! And so is everyone else! Can we please, for the love of god, just leave now!?”
Trini glanced up, "Alright, alright, no need to shout, Jochi. Just chill out.”
"Chill out?" Jochen echoed, his hand twitched as if he were about to throw something, anything, just to vent his frustration. “You guys act like none of this matters! Like we don’t have a job to do, like this isn’t important but you all are just acting like a bunch of.. of toddlers!”
The room fell into an awkward silence as Jochen stood there, panting slightly from the outburst, his eyes wide with the kind of frustration that only comes from dealing with children who don’t realise they’re children.
Wölli and Kuddel finally poked their heads out from the kitchen, looking a little sheepish but holding two halves of a half-eaten loaf of bread.
“We’re coming, man,” Kuddel said, trying to sound reasonable as he stuffed the bread into his mouth.
Jochen’s glare didn’t waver. “I’m giving you all two minutes. Two. Minutes. Or I’m leaving every single one of you here. Got it?”
There was a collective nod, slowly but surely, they started to gather by the door. With them now finally leaving, Jochen having to drag Campi all the way down by his feet to Trini’s Opel. Sure they weren’t as responsible as they were supposed to be, but I guess that’s just what made his friends feel all the more realer. They didn’t take themselves seriously, but they did sadly not know when they’ve reached their own limits at times.
Even as they finally piled into Trini’s battered Opel, the chaos didn’t stop. Jochen and Trini sat in the front, Jochen gripping the steering wheel with a look that said he was on the edge of either laughing or screaming out in irritation. While the rest of the guys were crammed into the backseat, limbs tangled awkwardly together.
Kuddel was still wearing his pink bathrobe, Wölli having to sit in the middle of all places, while Andi leaned against the window, pale but conscious. Breiti sat with his arms crossed, calm as ever, while Campi, somehow still asleep, lay sprawled across all of them, his head resting on Kuddel’s lap, snoring softly.
Jochen turned the key in the ignition, the engine sputtering to life with a cough. “Alright, everyone, buckle up.” Trini mentioned, turning his head over his shoulder to them.
Breiti raised an eyebrow, looking down at Campi’s dead weight. “Buckle up? Dude, I can barely breathe back here.”
Trini rolled his eyes, “Not my problem. Just don’t puke on the seats. That’s all I ask.”
Jochen sighed, sinking deeper into his seat as he rubbed his temples. He could feel the impending headache building behind him, the kind that came from a combination of exhaustion, frustration, and the utter madness of having to deal with his friends. Maybe he should’ve left them all at the apartment.
Just as the thought crossed his mind, Andi groaned from the back, clutching his stomach again. “Uh, guys... I think I—”
Before anyone could react, he leaned forward and threw up. The rest made sure to scooch closer to the right as the splatter sound made them wince.
“Oh for the love of—” Jochen muttered, clenching the steering wheel tighter.
Kuddel chuckled weakly from his corner. “Duddee, is it just me or does that kind of look like a rainbow” directing it at the puddle of puke.
“Yeah, fantastic. Great job, Andi,” Breiti said sarcastically, crossing his arms as he leaned back into the seats, thanks to him having sat right beside the bassist, the left leg of his pants was now entirely drenched in that. “Remind me to not sit next to you next time.”
The smell, unfortunately, started to drift through the car, making everyone collectively groan.
“Can someone crack a window?” Wölli asked, his voice muffled as he pinched his nose, trying to avoid the stench.
“I did crack a window, genius,” Trini shot back, glancing at the rearview mirror, wincing at the sheer thought alone of having to be the one to clean it up afterwards, “You lot better not make any other mess in here. I swear, this car is on its last legs as it is.”
Campi shifted slightly in his sleep, mumbling something incoherent as his arm flopped over Breiti’s shoulder, nearly smacking him in the face. The guitarist gently pushed it aside with an irritated sigh.
Jochen glanced back briefly, shaking his head. “I’ve got to be the only one here who still has some sense of sanity left.”
"That’s debatable," Kuddel quipped, still smirking, though clearly in a daze.
He spun around in his seat, glaring at the group crammed in the back. "You all just shut it!" he finally snapped, his voice louder than he intended. “We’re gonna go to the studio, okay? we’re gonna complete this album, okay?! Then we’re gonna set some proper rules so that there will be no more of this –" He gestured wildly at the chaotic mess of his hungover, half-asleep friends. "Alright?!"
Without waiting for any sort of reply, Jochen whipped back around and slammed his foot on the gas, pulling the car onto the road with more force than necessary. The Opel rattled a bit but carried them forward. For the first time since that morning, there was a certain type of peace that began to settle, the kind of quiet that falls when everyone is too exhausted to argue or make a fuss. And for that one minute, Jochen allowed himself a moment of hope that, maybe – just maybe – they could get through the next hour without another catastrophe.
But of course, it didn’t last.
"Jochen?" Kuddel’s voice came from the back, tentative but unmistakably there.
He groaned, not even glancing at the rearview mirror. "What now?!"
Kuddel hesitated for a second, then finally blurted it out. "Could we… could we stop by McDonald's?"
Jochen’s eye twitched. For a long moment, he said nothing, the tension in the air thick enough to slice with a knife. Then, in one swift motion, he dropped his head onto the steering wheel, letting the car horn blare out into the street.
They really were gonna be the death of him some day.