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He's fucking gone.
That's the only thing Joey can see now, the only coherent thought that forms in his brain, and what he always comes back in the end of the day, when the flashing lights are gone and there's nothing to distract him.
He's dead.
Joey waits. He waits and waits and waits. Maybe, he's gonna call. Maybe someone will come in and tell him that it's all a sick joke. He's gonna hear his bass once again, his calloused fingers gripping the pick and dancing along the strings. He's gonna look into his eyes again and see that witty smile he always had. Maybe it's just a horrible nightmare.
But it's not, it's fucking not a nightmare, it's reality and Joey carried his casket and he felt the weight of his body inside and he stared at the autopsy results and he asked himself again and again and again 'is there anything i could've done to save him??? anything literally anything'
It doesn't matter anymore, does it? Because he's gone. Joey can't turn time back. He can't go and slap the syringe out of his hands the first time he saw him doing this shit. He can't return the fucking plane ticket and go see him instead. He can't do anything but sit there and wait and wait and
He can't play the drums in their studio anymore. He can't look at the bass. He can't even meet his bandmates' eyes. Every space feels empty. Every time he picks up the drumsticks, he faintly hears his amp buzzing. He looks at the award with their album cover that's hanging on his wall and all he sees is his terrifying pig mask.
Joey feels like he's following him but at the same time he's never felt more alone. Fuck. He can cover his ears and drink and drink and drink and then throw up and maybe if the universe is nice today he'll pass out but no matter what he tries his ghost is there.
The key word is "ghost". Not him. Not Paul.
He misses him so fucking bad. Paul.
And everything Joey can really do is sit there and cry for what feels like eternity and hope that somewhere up there he'll see him and forgive him. Forgive the harsh words, the yelling, the endless arguments and the shit he wanted to say but never said and now never can say.
He's gone. He'll never be back. And the only thing he can really do is resign.
I'm sorry. I hope you miss me as much as I miss you. I love you.