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II can hear the storm brewing long before he can see it, muffled by the large metal door leading into his blue-carpeted room backstage.
"I don't care, I-I haven't come this far to be humiliated -"
II sits up straight on the sofa he's been lying down on, setting aside the thriller he's been thumbing through atop the stack of Vessel's fantasy books.
The grey door opens, and he greets the interruption with wide eyes.
"II, I'm cancelling Bloodstock," Vessel announces, rushing into their dressing room with III and IV hot on his heels, both looking prepared to watch a showdown of some sort.
The youngest of the three musicians looks like a kid whose favorite candy was all out at the grocery, though, he's trying very hard to look stern and disgruntled.
By contrast, III and IV look wholly amused, both with their arms crossed and smirked carved into their faces.
II suspects his choosing to relax in the dressing room after the soundcheck has resulted in anarchy, as he suspected it might.
Vessel shifts from foot to foot awkwardly, running his hands through his hair nervously, and II can tell he's about to implode.
He tries a teasing approach, grinning awkwardly, casting a questioning glance III and IV's direction,"Just needing a lie-in, V?"
He laughs a little as Vessel's lips pinch and his brows furrow, gaze going distant as his nostrils flare.
He switches to a gentler approach, "What's wrong, buddy?"
Vessel drops onto his knees in a way that II knows the twenty-six year old man's going to be whining about for weeks afterwards.
He chooses not to comment on this, eyes wide as the younger man drops his head into his lap and whimpers.
"What's happened here?" II asks, voice going softer and instinctively carding his fingers through Vessel's auburn shock of hair.
He tucks away the one golden hoop through the singer's right earlobe so it doesn't catch on his joggers where he's smashed it against II's thigh, but looks around in confusion.
When Vessel doesn't answer for a long moment, III rolls his eyes and steps forward.
"We've just got the room assignment for Bloodstock," he explains, and looks down at Vessel whose shoulders are working extra hard going up and down, even with his face tucked against one of II's thighs.
Silence stretches between them all a moment.
II rolls his eyes impatiently with a tiny sigh and deadpans to III, "I think he's made it more than apparent he's not going to provide information so if you'd kindly finish that thought?"
III sighs, but chuckles a little fondly to himself, "We'll only have one dressing room."
II blinks, confused.
"So what....? We've all shared before?"
IV steps in, clearing a laugh from his throat and patiently explaining,"There's no indoor toilet there, because of how it's workin' out with the other bands, the festival an' all."
II closes his eyes quietly.
Not this again.
"Oh..."
Vessel's breath hitches against his leg.
"Vessel...."
"I'm gonna cancel."
His voice is muffled slightly by II's joggers.
The other two men behind him are half laughing out loud at the drama but II glowers at them both, discreetly biting back a smirk himself.
"Vessel, I thought we were past this."
IV snickers, "You've packed your little bag, yeah? Just carry that in? Everyone will just think it's makeup."
He quirks his shoulders in a shrug at III who nods his agreement.
II massages Vessel's shoulders softly, glancing up at IV and shaking his head slightly, exhausted at just the thought of dealing with this again.
Yes, they brought his little kit.
No, that will not help.
II sighs, glancing down to try and see Vessel's face, which isn't hysterical, as he feared, just very disgruntled.
His full lips are pursed in a severe pout and his stormy, gilded-blue eyes are glazed over and distant, his dark brows furrowed deeply.
"Why don't we cross that bridge when we come to it, yeah?" II suggests, trying to change the subject because this is one time where talking about the issue will, in fact, not make it better.
"Can I cancel?" Vessel asks, voice pitifully small.
II leans down to try to meet his gaze, which the younger man avoids thoroughly, "I think you know the answer to that, but you're the boss man, so- you tell me. Are you willing to cancel a show and risk disappointing fans, try to get the refund from the venue, make management angry...."
Vessel groans, digging his nose deeper into II's joggers leg and crouching forward like he's trying to become one with the much smaller man's chair.
"Those are the repercussions," II says calmly, letting go of the man and just leaning back with his arms crossed against his chest, "I'm just letting you know them now, so you can either come up and talk about this, and we can sort out ways to make this better for you, or we can have a repeat of that Islington incident."
Vessel scowls up at him, blue-hazel eyes red-rimmed from his distress.
II maintains his poker face, tightening his lips in a stern expression at him.
"That was an accident!"
III looks curiously at IV, who shrugs back.
"It was unnecessary," II murmurs, one eyebrow quirked at the man with a gently mocking expression, "We've figured out a solution for that now, so-"
Vessel fists the hem of his shirt raggedly, chest heaving, "It's already gonna be hot, and I'm gonna be painted and then I'll have to-have to-"
II takes the younger man's face in his hands, looking him dead in those beautiful hazel blue eyes and saying calmly but sternly, "You are gonna be alright. If I have to go in with you - if one of the boys does – if you have to bring your little carry-on – you're gonna be alright."
Vessel's bottom lip wobbles menacingly as he looks away, his nostrils flaring.
II carefully avoids any recognition of this, cognizant of how sensitive the singer can be to perception.
"Are you going to let this ruin your whole evening and the fun you'll have at tonight's show?" II asks softly, slowly parenting Vessel toward sanity again.
They've been navigating this odd little relationship dynamic since he was 16 and living in his house, after all.
Not quite a big enough age gap for II to totally parent him.
Not quite a small enough one to be solely his friend.
They've settled solidly in the middle, where II is certainly the only one he'll accept an authoritative word from, but he is also Vessel's best friend first and foremost.
Vessel slips a spindly finger between his full lips as he ponders, gazing distantly past II's head as he rests an elbow on his thigh now lightly.
"It'll be...okay..."
He says the words slowly; a little worry line still etched into his forehead.
He's trying to convince himself.
"Yes, Vessel," III interjects with a disbelieving chuckle, "The porta potty will not eat you."
He laughs with fond exhaustion, pinching his eyebrows softly as he leans against the ugly white painted door frame and shakes his head lightly.
II frowns at him, but he can't see it.
IV stifles a giggle.
II exhales a little loudly and cups the broad shoulders before him, rubbing circles into the sharp blades, "I'll help you when the time comes, don't worry about it."
IV and III both look a little concerned at that thought. Inwardly, II shares that concern – for his dignity as well as Vessel’s.
The other two won’t dare laugh out loud at Vessel for this....quirk.... not with II present, at least.
They also haven't quite adapted to all their frontman's eccentricities just yet, either, though.
Vessel snuffles slightly and II pats his arm, motioning him and holding one slender hand gently.
"Why don't you go lie down before the show for a while?" II suggests, voice a little quieter as he notes the darker circles under the taller man's eyes.
Vessel shifts uncomfortably, glancing back at IV and III, who, having turned decidedly polite, are looking distracted while scrolling through their phones.
He shifts back to II, gazing sadly at the thumb stroking across his knuckles reassuringly, a pout coming back to his protrusive lower lip.
"M'not tired."
II arches a suspicious eyebrow at him, "You seem a mite overdone, love."
He lingers and II can see the unspoken question in his shadowed eyes.
"Go on, I'll come join ya once I've sorted something on my kit."
Vessel's shoulders ease a bit and II releases his hand, tapping the singer's firm thigh softly.
"Go on."
Vessel shuffles away awkwardly in his gym shorts, blushing a little as he passes III and IV.
Once the door closes, II's shoulders shake with silent laughter as he pinches his lips tightly.
He's a little surprised this is still an issue.
III has no discretion at all and is clutching at his side, guffawing while swiping at his eyes, "Was he cryin'?"
II shakes his head, wrinkling his brows incredulously, "He wouldn't about that- well, not in front of you lot, at least. Assuming they hit him with that while the soundcheck was wrappin' up?"
IV nods, glancing to the door warily, "He looked hysterical, mate, we sure he'll be alright, really?"
II nods, waving off the concern.
"He's not a child, he can cope. Just.. don't tease him too much about this. He's got enough complexes as is."
IV nods and III coughs again with a laugh, "His face when they said that- he tried to stay so professional-"
IV turns back to II and chuckles a little sheepishly, "He wasn't the most... discreet..."
II shakes his head, a worried expression inching into his mirthy blue eyes, putting a hand to his cheek and listening intently, another laugh bubbling out of him, “He never is...what’d he do?”
"Well, he gasped like a lady clutching her pearls in church, for starters," III elaborates, and laughs at the recollection.
"Straight grabbed his dick," IV says more softly, "Dunno what that's about."
II facepalms himself, making a note in his head to address that with the younger man later, "Last time this happened, he wouldn't...well...go... and, well, he got a UTI."
IV looks confused, "I thought only girls got those?"
II laughs, "Very much no, it's just usually easier for them to. He held it too long and it was.....a very painful experience – so, yeah, that's muscle memory."
III looks like a chipmunk, holding air in his cheeks so long he's turning purple.
II shakes his head in mock disappointment at him, "You're a grown man, III."
III covers his mouth with a hand, "I can't- I'm sorry-"
He dissolves into a fit of laughter and IV rolls his eyes, sitting down in one of the chairs across the room from II.
"One more question," this comes from IV, who looks sheepishly curious as he leans against the bar piano in the corner of the room, arms folded over his chest.
II purses his lips and gestures a hand for him to speak.
"What was the Islington incident?"
II's eyes roll back automatically, voice perfectly level as he replies,"Without spilling Vess' guts, there was an odd bathroom incident that resulted in him having to borrow a pair of Lindsay's leggings for the rest of the evening."
III and IV's eyes both widen.
"How did we not know about this?" III gasps, insulted to have been excluded from such a comical episode and golden opportunity to tease his –generally- suave bandmate.
He splays the fingers of one long hand over his heart, like a woman flabbergasted.
II shakes his head in disapproval, arms extended and palms turned up helplessly as he smiles a little tiredly, "I gotta look out for the little guy sometimes...."
"He's bigger than you by miles," IV points out with a chuckle, giving II's tiny frame a once-over and looking jokingly doubtful.
II just shrugs, both hands coming to squeeze the chair beneath him gently as he sits forward, restless, "He's… very fragile, sometimes, he just doesn't like it publicized."
III looks at him suspiciously, crossing his arms.
II gives him the middle finger with a laugh, turning to start sorting himself for their show that evening.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Six days later, the three men are standing in front of a grungy metal door in a dingy, crowded hallway that has dozens of musicians bustling up and down its corridors.
The doors all around them are opening and closing, creating a noisy cacophony that has II's own skin crawling and he can't begin to imagine what it's done to poor Vessel's ever-fraying nerves.
He leans his forehead against the scraped up white painted exterior of the door, savoring the cool metallic feel against his skin in the warm, stuffy hallway chocked full of bodies.
“Sweetheart,” II pleads tiredly leaning his head against the door of the dressing room.
”You’re going to have to use that toilet, I’m sorry - there’s no other options.”
He glances around a little cautiously, remembering where he is and trying to keep his voice low in the crowded dressing area of the festival.
Vessel whines loudly, his voice muffled through the door,”I don’t want to, it’s nasty…”
II sighs, pinching between his brows exasperatedly,” I know but it’s all we can do, though, I can come with you if you need.”
“That’s embarrassing.”
“Not more embarrassing than wetting yourself before your own concert,” II sings his reply, "Let me in, now."
“Or during, "IV makes a mock horrified face, scrunching up his nose.
Vessel pouts inside the room.
“I wouldn’t do that,” Vessel whines.
II rolls his eyes,”Then, come out here and use the John like the rest of us. Other people have to get ready. Stop being a diva, come on."
Vessel growls in annoyance; II reaches into his tote bag impatiently.
“I have seat covers and wipes, will that help?”
He can tell Vessel is pondering.
“That’s the best I can do, buddy, I’m sorry. There's going to be consequences you won't like if you don't come out right now.”
III sighs in exasperation, rolling up his shirt sleeves dramatically, "Maybe we drag him out?”
II holds up a hand as the man starts to turn the doorknob,”If he’s saying something, he’s been holding it aWHILE already, trust me. Squeezing him is not the move.”
IV makes a spouting motion with his hands,” Rain down on me and all that.”
“I can hear you!” Vessel snaps, sounding tense.
“Then come out here and show us who’s boss, big boy,” IV quips back, crossing his arms and standing poised at the door for a fight.
Vessel cracks the door, eyes red from rubbing them,”You’re all mean.”
II rolls his eyes at the dramatic pout but holds out a package of wipes and a toilet seat cover patiently,”But you still have to piss, so let’s go.”
He puts a hand on the small of his back, pressing him forward gently.
He marches toward the grubby little shed and II opens the door with one hand, keeping one hand on Vessel at all times- lest he bolt.
III and IV stand guard outside, stifling laughs but trying to be supportive.
Vessel resists when II goes to close the door, “What if there’s a spider in here?”
II sighs,”Do you want me to come in with you, V?”
Vessel looks shyly away.
II motions him aside and steps inside, rolling his eyes to himself and noting that being a caretaker of any kind truly strips one of any dignity.
He closes the door and a moment later, there’s fussing inside as paper unfolds.
III is all but turning purple from not laughing and IV is swiping at tears.
Vessel stands poised to run at the door of the porta john, while II quickly spreads the toilet seat cover on the seat.
He swipes at the toilet seat roll and all surrounding bits with one of the wipes quickly.
“It’s gonna be fine,” II is assuring, gingerly reaching a hand around the open slot with a private grimace to prove there’s no spiders,”All is safe, now pull your zipper down and go, Ves.”
Vessel’s bottom lip wobbles.
II shakes his head firmly,”You are fine, your body is safe and I am right here with you. Now, go, you don't even have to sit, unless... you do...?"
He looks to Vessel curiously, who shakes his head rapidly, balking at the suggestion.
Vessel blushes scarlet, but shuffles over to the toilet to do as asked.
He steps forward slowly, half squashing poor II against the bathroom door as he swaps places with him, trousers winding up at his ankles because he's afraid he'll splash them and his ass fully exposed to the older man, who is starting to wonder whether or not he and V need firmer boundaries, at this point in his life.
“Ves?” II prods gently,
Vessel looks around, so tall his hair's clinging to the top of the plastic shed from static electricity as he glances around, slightly claustrophobic as the corners seem to close in around him, "I’m too stressed, I think, II.”
II bites back any frustrated remarks and gently comes to stand beside him as much as he can, rubbing his back and looking up into his pale face.
“You are safe, your body is safe and you can let go, okay?” II recites the words the therapist told them to go through over and over and over when he’d gone through a terrible phase of him holding himself and given himself multiple infections.
He repeats them until Vessel grasps at the smaller man's shoulder and holds tight as he gives a little gasp, then lets go, finally.
II cringes at the dramatics but looks away politely, waiting for what feels like an eternity for the stream to stop.
Vessel quickly grabs at the wipes, after he’s done and yanks up his pants, then pauses, waiting awkwardly. He won’t touch anything else inside the little shed.
II sighs and sprays hand sanitizer on both their hands from his Fanny pack, tucks the supplies back inside, does a once-over of Vessel to make sure he's decent and fixes his very crooked belt at his hips.
“Alright, let’s go,”he pulls Vessel by one hand softly, and uses a wipe to open the porta john door.
He prays that no one important is nearby.
“They return!” IV announces jokingly, and II holds up a hand wearily to cease the onslaught of teasing.
“Everything come out alright?” III quips and II swats at his ass with a glare.
"Haven't you got somewhere to be?" he scolds, holding one hand and helping Vessel step off the elevated platform of the tiny shed.
III backs down immediately, wide-eyed and hands raised in surrender.
Vessel holds tightly to II’s hand, the other one inching toward his shaky lips and II quickly intercepts it.
“I apologize if this ruins your psyche forever, but you absolutely cannot put those in your mouth right now. Hand sanitizer is no substitute for soap and water and your immune system is legendarily temperamental.”
Vessel holds to him tighter, like he's afraid he'll fall down if he lets go.
“If you have to go again before the show, come find me, alright?” II orders gently, motioning for the taller man to lean down cupping his cheek in one hand and smoothing a thumb across it,”You’re alright, you’re safe here.”
Vessel nods silently.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"It's been literally seven hours, V," IV is scolding Vessel when II comes into the tiny dressing room later, having had to attend to his kit before the show, "You need to drink something, you're gonna make yourself sick."
II looks at Vessel severely, "What's wrong?"
IV side-eyes the younger man, who is flushed and chapped lipped in the corner of the room on a dingy sofa, "He hasn't gone since you made him earlier."
Vessel scowls at the older man, "Why're you keeping track?"
He crosses his arms over his broad chest, already sporting his black cloak for the show, his mask waiting on the table for the makeup artist to come and help him get situated.
II rolls his eyes at the childish deflection.
"Fuckin' weirdo," Vessel mutters and II sighs, shaking his head as he moves to the water cooler, an office tower-type, with tiny cardboard cups in a sleeve on the side.
He takes a sip quickly and glances at Vessel out of the corner of his eye sneakily.
The younger man is watching him quietly, but catches the glint of II's sclera and looks away instantly, covering his mouth with a fist and coughing into it severely.
II turns, suspicious now, "Vess, have you been drinking water?"
Vessel nods, quickly- too quickly, "Yeah."
His hair feathers around his face and he brushes at a stray lock, tucking it behind his ear where his hoop is dangling, still not removed for that evening’s show. He licks his lips discreetly and II can tell he's lying when his long leg starts to bounce, one flat foot tapping the cheap blue carpeted floor nervously.
"Vessel, come on," II orders, patience thinning as he marches over to the taller man and pulls up a wrist.
Vessel balks, eyes wide and surprised, "What?"
"You're gonna go try the bathroom, and when you don't go because you haven't drank anything all day - and that's why you're sick as a dog- I'm gonna bring you back here, make you drink a liter of water so you don't dehydrate out there in the damn thirty-five degree sun and, then, I'm gonna make you try again."
Vessel yanks his arm free, furious, "I don't need to piss, for gods' sake, and I’m not fuckin' thirsty!"
"Act your age!" II scolds, brows furrowed deeply at him as he folds his arms over his chest.
"Treat me like mine!" Vessel spits back, the points of his overdramatic canines glinting in the pale light of the poorly lit dressing room.
II sighs and closes his eyes, then drops onto his haunches in front of the younger man, cupping both sides of his face tenderly to make him look at him after he glances at the huge analog clock ticking just behind the singer's head.
"You are hurting yourself right now, do you understand me?" II says earnestly, "You are going to make yourself sick and you're gonna feel awful. I'm tryin' to help you save yourself here, buddy."
Vessel squirms, and shakes his hands off, "That's not your fuckin' job, anymore. I'm fine."
II shakes his head, tapping one finger against his cheek gently to bring his gaze back, "You're lying, and you're gonna make yourself sick again, do you want that?"
Vessel keeps his expression stiff and unmoving, ignoring II's words.
II lets go, shaking his head, "Well, don't say I didn't tell you so. "
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Hours later, they're performing.
Vessel is up front, pouring out his soul into the microphone, and the crowd is cheering wildly.
II can hear it, though, took his earpiece out just a few moments in to double-check he was correct, and he is, Vessel's voice is scratchy and out of pitch.
III sidles off to II's side once during a bridge to lean down and whisper in his ear, "He alright?"
II shrugs, watching the younger singer on the stage, the sun baring down hard on him, "We'll find out, I guess."
He picks up his sticks and begins the next solo seamlessly, shrugging at IV, who’s looking to him, as well.
Seven songs in and Vessel is clutching his taut stomach, it's cramping and nauseous all at once.
He tries to make it look sexy, thrusting harshly and making female fans scream with glee as he tries to alleviate the achiness there.
Sweat is pouring down his skin, coating him thickly and his mouth feels like cotton.
His eyes are burning and the sweat running from his hair down his forehead is adding insult to injury beneath the mask.
He looks back at II, whose eyes are fixed firmly on his kit, ignoring him thoroughly to focus.
He sways on his feet, coughing a little.
He pants through the last three choruses of a song, noting the crowd up front watching him with concern.
His back burns and the jockstrap beneath his baggy pants is chafing violently against his perspiring skin.
He hits a sad song next, and thanks the heavens since he can mask his sobbing behind that, his panting behind the emotion of the song.
He barely makes it to the end, wretching violently at the end of one song and masking it barely behind a sob, his chest is tight and heaving.
IV rushes to his side, tucking his arm underneath the man's shoulders and helping him limp off the stage.
"You need water," he scolds, feeling Vessel's wet cheek with a hand and gasping when it comes back scalded as well as wet and black, "You're gonna pass out, V."
Vessel whines and shoves back at him, “I’m fine, just need to sleep, caught a bug or somethin’.”
"You did not," II scolds him severely, storming up behind them and taking his other side, arm only able to reach around his slender waist but contributing to the overall effort of keeping the singer upright.
"Go get him a bottle of water right now," II orders III, who is coming off the stage now, removing his bass as he walks from his neck.
III doesn't ask questions just nods and bustles off, red curls bouncing in his wake.
"Get'im in here," II guides them into their dressing room quickly, pressing against the dingy grey door with a hand a second before Vessel's body gives up on him and he falls over the threshold.
IV and II try to grab him but fail and II's heart is in his throat as he reaches for the younger man anxiously, "V, come here."
II's anger flees and in its wake is left only his aching concern for the singer, who rasps out an apology, trying to sit up weakly.
"You're alright," II sighs, shaking his head subtly and taking the man's mask off carefully, ruffling the sweaty auburn hair and smoothing his own tshirt across his beaded brow as the younger man's hazel eyes come into view. "C'mere, my love, c'mon."
Between the two of them they manage to get Vessel scooted into the cavity between II's legs, resting him against his chest, II’s core burning at the effort but he neverminds it.
III is already back with the water, panting from his run and dropping to his knees quickly.
II thanks him with a nod as he wrestles Vessel out of his cloak and mask, the singer whining and whimpering with every jostling movement.
"Alright, big boy, you've got to get hydrated," II coaxes, bringing the bottle up to the man's half painted mouth and tipping some of the liquid in.
Vessel bursts into a sob immediately as he tries to jerk away, his handsome, disheveled face screwing up as the water runs down his black-splotched chest.
II gingerly holds him still, nodding at IV, who pins his legs down gently with his big hands.
Vessel whines louder, "I do-I don't want it-"
II hushes him, setting the water down and combing back his hair sweetly for a moment.
“Breathe, Vessel,” II is instructing, kissing his head as the first weak cries escape him, he’s too overwhelmed to drink right now and II knows that, “I’m here, II’s here, gonna make you feel all better, I know your stomach’s hurting, isn’t it?”
Vessel crumples and nods, coughing and choking from the dryness in his throat, "II...."
II shushes and shifts him back so that he's half draped across his lap, head resting in the crook of II's arm as he holds the bottle to his mouth softly, feeding it to him like a baby with a bottle.
II tries not to think too hard about that.
Vessel sobs but accepts the liquid, eventually bringing his hands up to wrap around the cool bottle and helping II hold it. He lets go when he's sure he can hold it, and soon the water bottle is empty.
II turns to III immediately, whispering, "Could you go get us another one, please?"
III nods and dashes away.
Vessel turns hysterical again, tossing a bit in II’s arms, though he’s too weak to truly fight him, "I don't want anymore-don't want anymore-"
II pats his side softly, rocking best he can and soothing, "You're alright, gonna be alright, you're okay."
Vessel eventually snuggles against the familiar chest, nibbling at his thumbnail softly when III returns with the bottle and II makes him take it again, coaxing him with gentle words and patting his arm to soothe him.
Eventually, they manage to get four bottles of water into him, and, by this point, the younger man has fully accepted his fate, limply crying against II's chest and sobbing out everything as the water hits his starved bladder.
II shushes and tucks him so he's sideways and laid out against him, face buried in his armpit while he drenches it with tears.
II doesn't miss when Vessel crosses his legs as subtly as possible, and tenderly pats them apart, tapping his thighs and receiving a whimpery protest that he ignores.
"You’ve got to go," II says simply and reaches for the package of wipes IV brought them to swipe at his face and clean him up.
Vessel struggles against the wet cloth, kicking up a fuss and then crying harder once he's clean and there's nothing stopping them from going out to the outdoor toilet.
II holds him a long moment, gesturing for the others to leave them when Vessel dissolves into a fit of sobs, raspy from dehydration but riotously crying.
"You're okay, c’mon, you're okay," II keeps repeating, cradling Vessel's head and pecking his ear, cooing like the man is just a small little thing in his arms.
He is his baby, after all, by some measure of the word, and II is devastated something has upset him enough for him to hurt himself.
He feels the pinprick of tears coming for him as Vessel's aching is poured out and shoved into him, as well, because that's how it is.
That's how it's been for as long as he can remember now, when Vessel hurts, he does, and, regardless of how amusing the situation might have been at first, Vessel’s hurting now.
They're alone now.
So II hikes up Vessel's legs gingerly, fully cradling him in his arms, letting him cry it out until he's run out of tears.
His legs are still crossed, and II knows this is going to be a whole scene, but he steels himself, anyways, and taps Vessel until he sits up.
"We're gonna have to go to the toilet, V," he says firmly, "You need to go and you're going to give yourself an infection again. You remember how that felt...you remember it burning when you had to go?"
Vessel sniffles and nods, "I don't like that-"
He coughs into an ugly sob.
II pats his back and gingerly slides the big man off his legs, "We're gonna have to try to do this, okay? No more tears, now, we're gonna go get you through this and then we’ll cozy down for the night, okay?"
"Can we get a hot chocolate?" Vessel asks in a small voice, and II laughs, "Yes, you can have your choccy if you go, good grief."
Vessel snuffles and nods, smirking a little at his own dramatics and grabbing for II's hand before standing up, pulling the smaller man with him but clinging to his hand tightly.
"Want you to come with me, please?"
II sighs and laughs, shrugging in surrender, "Everybody here probably thinks we’re doing some unspeakable things in that damn toilet, anyways, may as well make their talks interesting."
Vessel and he make their way down the halls silently, trying not to disturb anybody continuing to watch the concert.
They draw little attention, both now dressed in regular clothes. II sports a joggers set and Vessel wears an oversized white tshirt with a pair of baggy basketball shorts.
II has Vessel's little fanny pack in hand and when they get to the plastic building II goes in first, performing the perfunctory wipe-down and testing for spiders.
When all is clear, he reaches out for Vessel's hand and helps him in.
The younger man is only wearing socks, and II absently wonders if that's such a good idea since the floor is a far cry from livable.
He steps inside and II can already see the tears of shame dripping down his nose, his head bowed low.
"You're okay," he soothes, locking the door behind them and scooting around the bigger man, "You've just gotta pull your trousers and pants down and go, easy-peasy."
Vessel whimpers, covering his face with his hands as he takes big, gasping breaths, "Don't –don't wanna-"
II tenderly assists the younger man to stand right in front of the toilet seat. Once positioned, he digs his thumbs under the waistband of Vessel's shorts and pants and pulls them down just enough, exposing him and then looking away quickly, coming around to stand behind him then and rubbing circles into his covered lower back.
"You can go, you are safe, your body is safe," II soothes, and Vessel sobs again, but II never wavers, continuing to speak in dulcifying tones.
He manages to go after a few long minutes, gasping and then clutching at his appendage desperately as he does.
"It bu-burns-"
II closes his eyes tightly, "I know, I know, you're alright."
Vessel whines, high-pitched and wet, flinching away.
II's eyes pop open and about bug out of his head as he quickly grips Vessel's hips to keep his aim straight, heart skipping a bit as he looks up at the vent at the top of the little building and wonders for the thousandth time that day how, exactly, this is his life?
Vessel wiggles, starting to cry audibly again as the apparent sensation worsens, "It hu-hurts so bad-"
II hushes him, blushing as he chances a peek to see if the man is done.
He's not, and II realizes with a jolt Vessel's squeezing himself to make it stop.
"You have to let go," II coaches, "Let it go, I know, you're doing so good, everything's so bad but you're doing so good."
He gingerly grabs Vessel's one hand away, holding it back while he starts to go again, sobbing and almost doubling over with the pain.
II holds him upright through it, cooing and petting until the whole awful experience is over.
"All done, there you go, it's all done," he praises when Vessel finishes and then sits down on the toilet seat to II's shock and slight dismay, spreading his legs and tearing down his pants in agony, trying to alleviate the overstimulating sensation.
II's eyes widen at the usually modest man's exposure, realizing how bad the situation must, in fact, be.
He puts on his caretaker hat now, straightening his shoulders and kneeling down to dab the poor man off with a baby wipe, noting with a twist of his mouth that his opening is in fact red and swollen now.
Vessel just cries and cries, limp against the plastic wall and II knows by the fact he's even touching it the poor little thing is spent and sick as anything.
"Alright," II sighs, pulling Vessel up and fixing his shorts and pants, "Let's get back to the dressing room to call an Uber, yeah?"
He quickly wipes them both down and sanitizes properly, before exiting the little stall and leading the exhausted and thoroughly humbled singer back to their dressing room.
They enter, and II breathes a sigh of relief that the others are out, too.
Vessel reaches for II on instinct and II nods, "You lay down and we'll cuddle ‘til they’re back, gonna see if we can get that hot chocolate and some antibiotics for you.”
Vessel whimpers and II kisses his hand tenderly, “Let’s sit, I know it, I know you’re all worn out.”
He sits down on the dingy sofa and holds out his arms.
Vessel curls into him, his big body dwarfing him as he curls around his torso, and II takes all of him.
He pats his hip tenderly, a move Vessel would flip out over if the other two were present, but now he just lays his head down, ear resting over his heart and closes his eyes while II continues the soothing rhythm with one hand, ordering hot chocolate and contacting their tour manager from his phone with the other.
It takes a mere ten minutes for Vessel to drift into sleep, as II had suspected it might. He's been putting Vessel to sleep like this since he was just about sixteen, and frightened of nightmares, their little secret, an embarrassing one, perhaps, but he keeps it to himself.
Two hours later, the festival is wrapping up and III and IV are returning to the room noisily, where II is still holding their snoozing frontman, now doomscrolling.
The two immediately quiet themselves when II sends a death glare their way, fixing Vessel's gym shorts which have ridden down his back, exposing his crack quite an embarrassing bit.
"In good news," III whispers, "They've got an uber on the way to a hotel for us, II. You might wanna wake him."
II raises his eyebrows in surprise, "Already?"
III glances at IV knowingly.
The oldest of them blushes as he explains to II, "I might have told them we had a little bit of an emergency."
II laughs at that, patting Vessel's leg to wake him up, "Bubba, it's time to get up now."
Vessel sits up blearily, crushing II who winces visibly but remains uncomplaining beneath him.
He rubs a circle into the bigger man's back while he rubs sleep from his eyes, which are a little swollen and dazed. III and IV both sober at how young he looks, feeling keenly the almost five year age gap between them and the singer.
"You wanna get ready to go to the hotel?" II asks, voice gentle since he's only just waking up still.
Vessel looks around sleepily, nods and then curls back into II's neck sleepily, bunching up tight and small in his socked feet.
II laughs, "We gotta go, buddy, c'mon now-“
He gingerly pries Vessel up and off him, IV sitting down on the couch to tuck the younger man under his arm, supporting him upright where he slumps against him, while II and III make quick work of packing up their few belongings into backpacks.
Nestled on the bed in the hotel room, his hands twisted up in II’s wifebeater, Vessel murmurs weakly in his sleep.
II, also asleep deeply, shushes him, scrunching his face up in annoyance but reaching far down instinctively to grasp under the bigger man’s knees which are folded to his chin in the fetal position, and pull him closer.
Beside the bed, on the small settee to the left of their sidetable, IV taps III’s arm gently to get his attention, pointing to the cozy little scene and putting a hand to his heart right before he takes another enormous bite of a greasy chicken wing. III marvels for a moment at the sheer number of those the older man has already consumed as his eyes gloss over the messy bed, covered in empty buckets where chicken and chips once were, empty coffee cups that have left the room permeated with the swirling smell of melted chocolate and milk as well as the spice and fast-foodness of their dinner before his eyes fall on the sweet little duo curled together.
He purses his lips adoringly as II turns his head and nuzzles into Vessel’s damp crown – having dazedly showered right before he laid down- his nose completely smothered in the wet locks.
Vessel quirks a soft little smile that belies the machismo of his stage persona.
III laughs, “You think II knows he’s wrapped around his pinky finger?”
IV smacks his lips as he licks his fingers, earning a grimace from III beside him, who leans backward as he watches the guitarist with disgust, “I think II’s righhhht where he wants to be.”