Chapter Text
He pressed up against the sink, Jimmy's lean torso graced the cold ceramic, finger tips slick with out of date hair gel that Lyn-z insisted, 'he'd be better off dumping' Jimmy didn't care much for her advice. He carefully pinched his short bob-length hair into thin teased spikes sparsely laid out upon his head, taking a step back as he perfected the last strand of course extremely dead hair, Jimmy sighed to himself; The band had a show tonight, he wasn't worried. It's not like he hasn't been doing this for almost a decade now.
He picks up a slightly cropped black polo-tee, slipping it on-top of his usual purple fishnet under shirt, Jimmy soon wrapped his tie around the collar of his shirt, lacing it in a quick knot. He pats down his tight black skinny jeans, adjusting the studded white belt which adorned his slim waist. With one last sigh, he turns to face the mirror, taking in his absurd yet weirdly fashionable outfit before turning on his heal to exit the dingy bathroom of the bands shared apartment. Jimmy stepped into the hallway, his cheery pre-show attitude dipped as he in took a familiar scent. He paused in his tracks when passing the guitarist's room- before a show? really? Jimmy placed a hand on the door knob, squeezing his eyes tight in frustration; They'd talked about this before.
Steve didn't seem to take in much from these types of conversions, a grunt or nod was about the limit he'd amount to, maybe a mumble of, "whateva' man" once in a blue moon if he was feeling talkative.
Jimmy creaked open the door; As he expected the singer was met with the sight of his guitarist, Steve. He was sat crisscrossed on his own flimsy mattress that was painted with various miscellaneous stains that Jimmy didn't want to know the origins of.
Mid intake of his near burnt out blunt that settled loosely between his calloused middle and ring-finger, Steve slightly moved his head lazily towards the now fully open doorway, barely acknowledging the taller mans figure standing in it, whether that be from plain ignorance or his substance intake. A small glass bottle of a un-labeled liquid, which Jimmy could only assume was the cause of the alcoholic stench that radiated from the fat boy, stood perched upon the ragged night stand, a dim light refracting trough the glass into liquid, highlighting a tinge of colour within the bottle.
"What the fuck do you think you're doin'?? before a fucking show too? " Jimmy spat at the man as he placed himself in front of Steve, he loomed over his intoxicated bandmate. His faced was scrunched into a snarl, laced with disappointment and frustration. I mean, what more could he do? Its not like he can force a grown man to give up his fix, but Steve could at least harbour his needs till after the gig.
" Jesus Christ dude! no need to get so fuckin' worked up... I'll be fine, don't be so pissy. Fag." Steve scowled as he lifted his fingers away from his face drearily, blowing a puff of vapor into the already stuffy room. He looked up at Jimmy with a blank half-assed facial expression. Blunt still in hand, Steve leaned back, his elbows sunk into the cotton of the bed.
"I'll be down stairs in like... 5 minutes... or somethin'..." His attention drifting from Jimmy who was now getting more and more aggravated by every slurred word the guitarist sputtered. The taller man gritted his teeth, taking a sharp inhale as he grabbed the front of the boys popped collar, pulling Steve's face closer to his.
"You're getting your fat-ass downstairs when I ask you to, put that bullshit out and grab your shitty guitar on your way too." Jimmy snapped at him as he let go of Steve's shirt before pressing his pointer finger into Steve's head roughly, causing him to wobble backwards as he attempts to catch his disoriented body. Jimmy took a step back before exhaling brattily, he stormed out huffing and mumbling to himself about responsibility and other stupid crap he usually doesn't care for. Steve just groaned as he practically drilled his still lit fag into the ashtray, crushing it and leaving a mess of embers in the tray. The man wiped his hands against his face as he brought himself onto his feet.
He had dressed himself for the show before hand luckily. Steve clutched his side, his breath hitching from a sudden pang of sickness that hit him like a wave, Steve squeezed his eyes tight, standing stationary till he exhaled as he brought himself to some inch of relief from his ailing insides. Steve muttered drunken swears to himself as he reached for his beat-down guitar, picking it up and wearily placing it in his velvet lined case that was lathered in stickers and patches of bands and video games the guitarist was interested in.
The lead singer met with the girls downstairs, throwing himself on their cracked leather sofa. Kitty had a compact mirror out, doodling on her sleek cat-wing eyeliner; as for Lyn-z she was tuning her bass, grunting as she yanked on the distorted strings she couldn't seem to get right. Jimmy put his hands on his knees, fiddling with his freshly painted nails or checking the time every once in awhile. His focus shifted towards the clatter of his bandmates guitar case bunking down the stairs, it was accompanied with Steve trailing it along. Jimmy rolled his eyes slightly before finally checking his small piece of shit he calls a phone, I mean it even had a flip-out keyboard.
"looks like the fuckin' transport finally showed up, god it took them long enough." He stood up abruptly making his way toward the door, swiftly walking past Steve who was pressed against the wall with a pale tint to his face, Jimmy ignored the boys state, turning to the girls and motioning them to hurry up.
The bus trip was quiet, Kitty and Jimmy sat opposite each other at the cramped table that was jammed into the corner of the bus. They giggled about their opener and the crappy demos they had lent to the band, they seemed to be popular with the local scene of the venue msi was playing at; So that was about the only reason Jimmy agreed for them to be the openers. Lyn-z and Steve both laid on their bunks, the bassist was sat stomach down texting her supposedly, 'super cute and handsome' emo boyfriend. The whole band didn't really seem to see the appeal, but jimmy had a small strange fascination with him. On the other hand Steve was sprawled out on his top bunk taking a heavy nap, wincing and turning in his temporary sleeping area repeatedly.
An abrupt halt snapped him out of his slumber and made the rest of the band come to the conclusion they've arrived at the venue. Lyn-z rolled out of her bunk, pulling out a cigar and lighting it causally before lifting her equipment; Kitty and Jimmy didn't have much instruments to haul around so they went straight for the exit of the rented bus. The guitarist dangled his legs off the edge of his bed, before pushing himself off it and groaning as he grabbed his guitars case; Lyn-z took note of his grunt, tilting her head to the side staring Steve down suspiciously.
"you all 'ight man? you're lookin' a bit pale." Lyn-z raised a thin drawn-on eyebrow.
" yeah, yeah I'm fine." Steve mumbled, turning his shoulder away from her as he fidgeted with the strap on his case, slinging it over his side. Lyn-z shrugged as she spun around to leave the bus, tightening her pink-tails while she made her way to the back door of the building. The guitarist figured he might as well join her; He bucked his leg back as he stepped out on the metal stairs that led him off the vehicle, kicking the door to the bus shut. Steve soon caught up to the bassist, struggling to keep up with her quick pacing he began to feel that same sharp stab of sickness wash over him, panting quietly to himself as not to make a scene when him and Lyn-z entered the venue. The band began to get set up for their show, Kitty played with her drumkit that had the letters 'msi' sketched along each drum, testing its quality while jimmy set up his black and white striped mic stand, taping and making stupid noises into it then chuckling to himself as lyn-z glanced at him, obviously fed up with this 38 year-old fags bullshit.
The hours passed, more and more people began populating the barricades; Nothing out of the usual for their concert goers, people with insane haircuts, deranged punks and the odd concerned parent, probably held against their will by their kid to take them to see the disgrace of a band that is Mindless Self Indulgence. The stage lights dimmed to a glimmer as the drummer's silhouette emerged from the backstage, Kitty stationed herself at the drumkit; She was promptly followed by Lyn-z, then Steve, then finally the main attraction of the band, Jimmy.
The heavy percussion blasted as the stage lights lit up, and subsequently so did the crowd, screaming wildly and shouting either threats of death, or sex at the members, the band couldn't really tell. Jimmy jumped around the stage like a lunatic who just snorted their first line of crack in a gas station bathroom, screeching the pre-chorus of 'Kill the rock' into his mic while he clutched the cord of the microphone in his less dominant hand, flailing it round in circles stupidly.
The show had only just begun, but Steve was already missing notes of riffs he'd played hundreds of times before, his fingers skipped between strings of his guitar, dipping in-and-out of rhythm with the percussion instruments; The band wasn't too over-reliant on guitar but the distortion from Steve's section was evident. He stood fixed in place, focusing on getting the notes right, Steve bit the inside lining of his mouth to prevent him from making any unnecessary noises, trying to keep some sort of the audience's attention strictly off of him. Jimmy noticed the boy’s trailing as he strayed farther and farther from the tune of the song, taking a glance at him before rolling his eyes and turning back to the crowd, harassing them with slurs and snarky remarks.
As the concert continued Steve's longevity began to run thin, he took full flat out breaks, stood hung over his guitar and leaned his head back from time to time taking drawn out heaps of breath as his innards turned against him. The singers annoyance towards his bandmate grew apparent, and tormenting the audience wasn't cutting it so Jimmy had the bright idea to aim his violence at his ill, high and hungover guitarist. He took his time gravitating towards Steve, who was practically in another fucking planet.
Jimmy wondered backwards, taking a stance behind his bandmate before kicking him violently in back-side of his shin, causing Steve to let out a yelp like a beaten puppy right on a high note. The fans lapped it up exuberantly as they squealed and fangirled over the "toxic yaoi" or whatever their freak teenage fans where into. Jimmy had never considered himself sadist but he seriously was rethinking it; He lifted his mic back up to his chin, choking meaningless lyrics into it before he was abruptly intervened by Steve's boot being jammed into his side, he didn't use much force but it made quite the impact on Jimmy's lankly frame, the singer skidded along the stage, exaggerating his recoil to an obviously satire extent. Jimmy laughed it off, playing along with the act he and Steve had fabricated on stage, although Jimmy didn't take the actual violence part as a joke.
The next song started up; The intro of panty shot banged off Kitty's drums, her beats practically drilled a hole in Steve's head to the point he couldn't even remember the song's cords, or its name actually- but he did come to a conclusion the show was nearing its end; The guitarist hid his face, attempting to aid the mass hysteria his body was pushing on to him so he could at least think straight, or even just get his hands to work away at the strings of his instrument like he usually relies on.
A jab to the center of Steve's back soon snapped him out of his concentration, the scrawny boy hopped away with a smug grin slapped on his face, still turned to the crowd preforming casually, well about as casual as a MSI concert could be. The guitarist clenched his jaw shut, Steve wasn't much of a emotional person, but right now he feels like either sobbing to himself pathetically and drinking till he doesn't feel anything anymore, or pinning jimmy down and beating him half to death; Both seemed plausible for how he'll spend the rest of his night, especially as Jimmy reeled closer and closer into Steve's section.
He didn't want to cause a seen on stage, I mean he'd already pretty much ruined a good part of the concert from his shit performance, he was already picturing the taller boys lectures and rants about indulging before shows, and it just made him more upset. Before he even knew it Steve's fist was brutally jutted into Jimmy's stomach.
James stumbled back, sputtering as the guitarist pulled his fist away from above his abdomen, Steve's other hand was firmly pushed against Jimmy's back before he slowly Inched backwards away from the scene, not shortly after his bandmate lunged at him, tackling them both to the ground. Lyn-z stood awkwardly to the side, watching the boys tussle unfold into weak punches and grasping at one another in an attempt to nail the opposed down. Through out the grunts and curses Jimmy managed to get the other man down with his hands around Steve's neck, Steve squirmed and resisted against the other boys grip.
Jimmy barley noticed the warm sticky fluid dripping down his nostril until it splatted onto Steve's black jacket, leaving a small bloodstain. The singer hesitated before lifting his hand up to his now even more uneven nose, the glimmer of deep red liquid shun in the flashing stage lights; As the gore spread and seeped into the crevices of the boy's hand he couldn't help to feel a strange warm sensation. A smug grin trickled across his face while he stared down at the guitarist's frustrated expression, Steve took this as a opportunity to knee Jimmy aggressively in his ribcage causing the boy to roll onto his side while whining feebly as he clutched at his internal organs.
" Fuckin' bitch- " Jimmy mumbled into the sleeve of his purple undershirt, wiping away the blood that was now scattered in all directions on his face before he picked his microphone off the stage floor. Steve stared as the man stubbled back to the middle of the raised platform, shouting and singing as if nothing had occurred. They continued to play on with the now coming to a end show, Steve also decided to finish up the containments of his stomach as he proceeded to vomit off to the side off the stage.
muffled barrages of yells spewed from the crowd, leaving a strange ringing noise between Steve's ears. He was lucky the final few notes played as the concerts energy fizzled out; crowds faded into gatherings, gatherings degraded into what looks like could be groups of hippy polycules, then to one or two stragglers looking for photos, autographs and all of the above, anything that ‘ill make them a quick buck.
He kneeled of to the right-center stage hunched over panicked, wiping away at remaining residue, before cold little lanky fingers dug into the back of Steve’s shirt, clawing accidentally at his neck sending a shiver through his spine. Steve’s face was flushed, like he had a fever, His eyes lay hung to the floor wearily, even while he was being hauled off the main stage by who he could only assume was, Jimmy? Jimmy. He was going to be pissed at Steve, more than usual for sure. The floor patterns shifted as time went on, Steve had the recognitive ability to at least be capable to tell when he was in the band’s dressing room, also due to the thud of his back hitting the hard scruffy carpeted flooring when the taller boy loosened his grasp. Steve muttered out a small-
"ow."
Before he pulled himself on to his elbows, scooching his legs closer to his body. Jimmy's face wore a more sorrow expression, weaves of frustration still hung in the air as he took a sharp hitch of breath, turning his nose up at Steve. His eyes lingered on the boy's composition below him, Jimmy's pupils glazed over any sort of eye contact, like a predatory animal would with its prey, not that poor intoxicated Stevie could notice, nor care.
The guitarists squinted up at the singer, white florescent lights shun behind Jimmy, illuminating the silhouette of his thin messy spikes; The shift of foreground forced Steve's vision to create a vast contrast between the tan shadows of the man's face and the brightness of the room, causing the other boy's expression to register as unreadable. /p>
"Okay... Listen, man- I'm sorry. fuck..." Hiccuped Steve, vaguely trailing off into a groan while simultaneously pinching his nose bridge. The man looked away, his head dipping in embarrassment– good old Stevie ruining yet another show! How unique... So unpredictable! His jaw clamped as demeaning thoughts flowed through his small, miniature, little guitarist brain; Steves drunken emotions soon belowed into a self loathing frustration, which didn't help Jimmy with his confrontational approach.
The singer took a minute before a reply conjured from between his gritted teeth and out through the tooth gap in the center of his upper fangs.
"You're a such a fuck–up Stephen, if I had it my way, you'd be out the band, and off to whatever shitty apartment you've got left. " The scowl escaped Jimmy's mouth a lot harsher than he'd planned. He widened his eyes and furrowed his brow, turning a cheek at Steve. All this huffing and threats for what? Jimmy knows how empty they felt to him on the inside, so why spew them?
A pang of regrets filled the boys insides, making him feel a little queasy as he looked down at the mess in front of him. Jimmy could only tilt his head in sympathy as he prayed and hoped Steve wouldn't be too upset.
Choked sniffles muffled from the now quietly curled up boy that lay ahead of James' intimidating stature. Steve's face hung low, out of view, but Jimmy could picture the puffy, red, tear–filled eyes that quivered at each vowel spat at him, and suddenly Jimmy really wanted to rip those malicious words out of his throat, ridding them from his obscure set of discriminatory vocabulary.
"Hey, hey. Dude I didn't... I didn't mean it alright? So stop huffing like a kid, you're overreacting big time. " The man let out a cruel chuckle, nervously grinning at Steve's huddled exterior before patting his shoulder at an attempt to comfort the boy; it rubbed off as more cold and distant, like giving a coworker a hug.
"Fuck. Fuck! man– Jesus Christ, I'm sorry... It's not your... Your fault okay. I couldn't help myself–" Steve's sobby blathering was swiftly cut off by Jimmy's arms trailing down to the other mans neck, as his knees hit the floor with a dull thud, he leaned into Steve, setting his head onto Jimmy's shoulder. James buried his lower half of his face into the back of the boy's jacket that smelt of sweat and smoke. Mutters of apologies dripped from the whines he let out against Steve's jacket, his grip tightening over the man's shoulder blades slowly.
They sat there embraced for a good minute. Sounds of human life soon banged from outside the dressing room, scarring both the boys into breaking their strangely homosexual mopping.
"Well... " Steve sniffed as he wiped under his nose, awkwardly avoiding eye contact with the man he was entangled with not so long ago.
"Here, Steve, just... Take a seat–I'll get you some water. " assured Jimmy in a blurt before he scurried off out of the room; leaving Steve to relish in excruciating embarrassment– oh yeah, because all bandmates just cry and hug each other for an uncomfortable amount of time!
The thought plagued his mind as he slouched on the plump black sofa, Steve couldn't ignore the twist of his insides as Jimmy's cold fingers ran across his back, contradicting the heat emitting from Steve's face and lower regions– he recoiled back as he quickly buried his face into his sweaty palms. Steve's head blurred with disgusting, absurd fantasies that involved James; his sleek bare back and hickeys, strategically placed to show along his thin untouched neck. The boy was so knee deep in an imaginary play boy magazine that Jimmy starred in he barely noticed the real thing walk back in.
Sloshing of the clear water lapped against the flimsy red solo cup Jimmy grasped; Steve just assumed James had scavenged it from the people running the venue. Jimmy held it from the rim loosely, tracing his chipped black polish incased nails along the edge before extending his arm out sheepishly to the boy.
"Thanks." Stephen grumbled under his breath, Refusing to break his intense staring contest with the stained carpeted flooring. Jimmy returned to the man's side on the couches thin cushioning. The singer's presents weighted heavy In Steve's mind, like a pit of guilt in this stomach but instead lingering as though a bad dream. Raising his cup to below his nose Steve took a small sip, the fumes of cheap chemically manufactured plastic scents hit him; normally he'd crack a lame joke about Chinese sweat shops to get even a hitch of a chuckle from jimmy, but it felt different tonight to Steve. It felt less like a companionship built off stupid jokes.
The taller man's gaze fixed on the other boy's complexion as he swallowed, trailing from his tilted up nose, then to his exposed neck- down to the stained black linen shirt that clung to him just slightly tighter than usual. It wasn't out of the ordinary for Jimmy to take notes on Steve; it's not like he doesn't do the same with the rest of the band? It just so happens to be he recalls more about Steve- watching him on stage and sharing bunks on tour buses tends to lead to closer contact between the two. So how come Jimmy's stomach feels tight this time?
Buzzing of the small air conditioner corner of the room was about all the noise that emitted around the room with the exception of Steve's odd pathetic sniffles.