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The sky spiraled above him. He opened his mouth, but could barely register the sound. His limbs flailed, looking for something - anything - to grab onto as he plummeted down. Tommy's curls flew up around his face as the ground cracked, crumbled, then vanished right below his feet. His heart was pounding louder than his drums ever had, his ears feeling like they were about to burst from the sound alone. He tried in vain to scream, but to no avail - there was no ground in sight, the free fall was endless.
A slight yelp emerged from his mouth as he jolted up - sweat sticking to his face, breath uneven. Tommy pulled the blankets closer to himself, trying to replicate the warmth he needed. It had felt so real - he could have sworn he'd been pushed. He still felt the cold, clammy hands shoving his shoulders, the helpless scream, the endless fall - it was like his brain loved to torture him, in some form or another.
He let out a whimper, trying to even his breathing. No less than a year ago, he'd lay his head on Nikki's chest, listening to the bassist sleep. Or, when his boyfriend was awake at that time of night (which was far more common) he'd curl up in his lap, legs draped over him and arms wrapped tightly around his waist. He inhaled slowly - it never got easier. Months had gone by, yet he always in the back of his mind expected Nikki to be near him.
It felt foolish to say it, but Nikki had become part of him. Tommy didn't know how to deal with the loss; how does one deal with losing the person that made them whole? The one that makes feel like the most important person on the planet? He sniffled, immediately hiding his face in his pillow. He reached out to side that used to be Nikki's, hoping - praying - for some warmth. Some comfort.
All that met his fingers were the cold sheets - not even the blanket was on that side. He inhaled deeply, inching closer to the pillow. If he looked closely, he could see the part in the middle where Nikki used to keep his head, the indent remained prominent. He sat up, cheeks still puffy, and laid his head on the pillow that used to belong to his love. He hadn't dared till now - he wanted to keep things the same. Make sure the love of his life recognized everything in the room, no matter how much time had passed.
Now, the only thing he wanted was familiarity. He fumbled with the drawers, finding a letter Nikki had left him. For when it's too much.
*
You're stronger than I ever was. You've made it this long without me. If I had to go this long without you, I'd go crazy. Hell, I don't think I'd even survive. Breathe for me, okay angel?
Writing this letter, I miss you too. Even though you're asleep next to me, even though I could just put this away and crawl into your arms, forgetting all of this. The worst part is, I know I could just leave it, but this needs to be done. We've reached a point where we need each other, and I can't just leave you in case I do what I'm afraid I will. So here I am, writing to you, not even sure if you'll open it.
But, this has to be done. It's for you, and a little for me. It's so that I know you'll be okay.
It was the week we'd met, you remember that? You were a starry eyed kid watching local bands play as often as you could. I was angry at the world, but only because I thought it owed me something. It never did - the world was here first, it owes me nothing, yet, I demanded something anyhow. You can't have forgotten that first week - I was never religious, but that first week, I was sure that god himself had sent you as some sort of punishment, perhaps for doubting him.
I don't know how much the scar on your hand has faded - I don't remember when it happened, but I distinctly remember biting you, as hard as I could. You told me I resembled a german shepherd, with my hair the way it was. The booze, the drugs, the rage - they all mixed together, and I bit you. You think I'm a German Shepherd? I'll show you a German Shepherd.
You and I have had our rough patches, haven't we? We've fought, made up, then fucked till we couldn't walk. Before we even started the band, we were joined at the hip.
If you're reading this, you had a bad night. I'm sorry - I wish I was there to help you through it. I miss you, just writing this hurts my soul. You were my rock, my everything, and all I can leave you are these letters. Just do me a favor - don't open them all at once. The longer they remain closed, the longer I live on, in a sense.
Tommy took in a deep breath.
"Fuck your abstract ass bullshit", right? I know. Because I know you. "If you know me, how dare you leave?" because I had to, Tom. I had to do this, for me. I'd regret it, were I still alive.
But not you. I could never regret you. Don't - for a second - think that this is about you.
If you're reading this, it's all too much. You feel alone, possibly trapped and like there's nobody that gets it. I'm sorry - it is my fault. I never wanted that to happen. Not to you.
I know you're strong, but it's okay to not constantly use hat strength. It gets too much too quickly. I've been there. I hate myself for the chance that I've brought you there. I need you to remember that I love you, even from beyond the grave.
They say til death do us part. I say not even death can separate me from you.
Always yours,
Nikki
*
"It's time to move on, isn't it?"
Fuck you, no. It's not. That was his decision to make, not theirs. Not any of theirs. moving forward meant letting go, and letting go means it was real. Tommy rolled his eyes, playing with the leather necklace Nikki would wear. He rubbed it with his fingers slowly, playing with one of the last physical reminders of the love of his life. The sheets had lost the scent - the hoodies were a valuable source of comfort he couldn't afford to squander, and the bracelets... He couldn't so much as look at them without remembering the track marks. His eyes welled up, as he rubbed his face. "I don't want to move on. Nikki is the love of my life - I don't need another."
Heather rubbed her face. "Tom, you're hurting, I get it, but Nikki can't be your excuse forever."
Is it really an excuse, he thought, if you genuinely didn't want to do something, not out of fear but out of a simple lack of desire? Is it truly an excuse if you don't want to betray the one you love?
"I think you should shut the fuck up about this, focus on fixing your own damn love life for once."
That was it - the words that made pain flash across the face of one of the few people he still felt human around.
Hurt people, hurt people.
His therapists voice played in his mind, but he didn't find in himself the capacity to give a damn.
"I think you should leave, Heather."
*
He was smiling - it felt foreign on his lips. His reason to be happy was gone, what did he have to smile about? Yet here he was, smiling. He looked around, he was on stage again. There was music playing, yet he didn't know the song. He looked around panicked, as it continued without a drum beat. He could taste the bile in his throat already - the rancid smell of his own vomit filling his nostrils. He closed his eyes, trying to inhale - to no avail. His lungs were concrete - the simple expansion seemed as if it were one of Heracles's labors. He opened his eyes, which were already stinging. He frowned, moving his hands.
Underwater. He was underwater. How? Everything around him seemed normal - yet he was drowning. He gasped, the salty water filling his mouth, then lungs. He tried to cough, only letting in more.
Stop...
The first thing he felt was panic - his face was damp, as was his pillow. He choked out a sob - he so desperately needed more than that. He wanted to break down, dry into the arms of the one person that ever understood him. Pain filled his voice as he called out for Nikki - it had become routine, but that made it more painful. He hid his face, trembling as he forced himself to sit up. His body rebelled - he could seldom distinguish nightmares from his life. In a way, he found it fitting - what was life without Nikki, but a nightmare?
He looked down, almost ashamed of himself, before reaching for the pile of letters. He picked it up, sifting through them. He looked at it, When you just need someone who understands.
He sniffled, his thumb tracing the writing. Nikki thought of everything - Tommy was a lucky man. For a moment, he nearly relaxed, as he took in a sharp breath and tore open the letter.
*
I love you. Always will.
I understand, I always will. You're my whole world, Tommy, I wish I was strong enough to stay with you, to be with you through this. That's my one regret - leaving you. The world moves on, love doesn't. Not my love - that's never gonna go to anyone else in the world.
I don't know if people pressured you to move on. I hope to god they didn't - you need to do things on your own terms, or not at all. You're a grown ass man, I hate how everyone babies you, just because you've got that innocent, sweet little face. You fucking deserve respect, not how people treat you.
Even if you're not happy anymore, I still love you. That doesn't change; and I don't want you to force yourself to be happy. You gotta process your own stuff, and do what you think is right. Whatever choice you make, you've got me.
I know this was a short one, but I can't keep writing. it's hurting
Love always,
Nikki
Tommy scanned the page - it was damn short, but he didn't give a fuck. It was a piece of him. Longer he made it last, longer Nikki would live. He traced the page - noticing indents, likely from tears. How long was he in pain? How long did he want to end it all? How long ago did Tommy become a shitty boyfriend that didn't even see his whole world was bleeding inside?
*
It was dark - Tommy whipped his head around. The silence was foreign, deafening. He exhaled, his breath forming mist in font of his face. He squinted his eyes - the floors were white, tile, and sterile. He tried to speak, but no words escaped.
Closing his eyes in a desperate attempt to find solace, he surrendered to the only audible sound—the thunderous beating of his own heart. But the rhythm was distorted, no longer steady and serene. It pounded recklessly, too loud to be ignored, too fast to be normal. Each beat felt like a reminder of the shattered pieces within.
A searing pain erupted in his stomach, causing him to gasp in agony. Suddenly, the once darkness-drenched room was flooded with an ominous deep red glow. Trembling, he lifted his hand and found it coated with a thick, sticky substance that chilled him to the core. Blood—his own blood—stained his trembling fingers.
The pain sharpened - his gaze drawn downward, his eyes fixated on a deepening laceration in his stomach. The wound seemed to pulse with a malevolent life of its own, widening before his horrified eyes. He could feel the searing pain intensify, as though a jagged blade sliced through his flesh with every beat of his heart.
In the crimson glow that bathed the room, more cuts began to appear across his body, as if etched by invisible claws. They appeared like macabre rivers, tracing wicked paths along his limbs, marred by despair. Each fresh wound oozed with a visceral mixture of blood and chunks of his own flesh.
Tommy's trembling hands traced the lines, his fingertips grazing the raw edges of his largest cut. His stomach hung out, soaked in blood, before falling to the floor. His intestines trailed after it, as if they were a rope, slowly falling off the edge of a cliff once the end had fallen. His body convulsed with a mixture of pain and disbelief. With each passing moment, the cuts multiplied, devouring his flesh with relentless voracity. His skin was a mangled mess.
The pain became an all-consuming symphony, drowning out rational thought. The bile rose in his throat, as he watched, helpless, as his arms fell off his body. The cuts had a life of their own - at this rate, he'd be reduced to a lump of skin and bone.
"Stop..." he choked out, as the lacerations made their way to his neck. The harsh cold made him cough - but to no avail. His lungs had stopped drawing in air, as they dropped out of his body, falling onto the floor like sandbags.
The violence of his own heartbeat reached a fever pitch, echoing in his ears. Its relentless force became too much to bear, as if his chest could no longer contain the storm raging within. His heart tore itself free from his shattered ribcage, plummeting to the floor with a sickening thud. The organ, once the source of life and love, lay pulsating in the dim light, exposed and vulnerable. Blood soaked the floor,
A phantom image superimposed itself upon the pulsating muscle, etching his features onto the fragile membrane. Tommy's eyes widened with a mixture of disbelief and longing as he stared into the distorted reflection of the one whose loss had broken him. His visage wavered, a haunting apparition, before his terrified consciousness was abruptly thrust back into wakefulness.
Within the span of three breathless seconds, Tommy's body convulsed, and he jolted awake, gasping for air as if emerging from the depths of a watery abyss. Sweat drenched his trembling form, his heart still racing with the echoes of the nightmare's torment.
Reality rushed in, colliding with the remnants of the vivid nightmare, leaving him disoriented and shaken to his core. His wide eyes, still haunted by the image of Nikki's blood-stained face, searched the dimly lit room for solace and stability. Slowly, he gathered his shattered composure, each breath a deliberate attempt to distance himself from the visceral nightmare that had clung to his consciousness. As he struggled to ground himself in the waking world, the weight of his heartbreak pressed upon him like an unbearable burden. The nightmare had cracked open the floodgates of his sorrow, and the aftermath left him grappling with the raw reality of his loss. Every fiber of his being screamed with the intensity of his shattered emotions, a constant reminder of the love he had once held so close, and the devastating way it had slipped through his fingers.
He trembled, reaching the box by his bed. He pulled out another letter: In the Embrace of Eternity
Tommy almost laughed at the irony - almost. Eternity "embraced" him without Nikki alright, its ethereal presence enveloped his very being with a grip as tight and suffocating as that of a constrictor. It coiled around him relentlessly, squeezing the life force within him until every ounce of breath was stolen away, leaving him gasping for the essence of what he'd once held onto. In the unyielding embrace, there was no escape, no reprieve, as the weight of pressed upon him, erasing all traces of humanity and leaving only a haunting emptiness in its wake.
*
I only write when you're asleep. When you're awake, all I want is to spend time with you. Right now is the only time I've got the strength to stop lying to myself - I know I'm going to die, but when you're awake, I let myself lie. Let myself believe - if only for a second, that wee can have forever.
I'm sorry I'm so fucked up. So broken. I can't even stay for the one person who stayed with me through everything.
As I write this letter, I am reminded of the soul I fell in love with—the one who laughed without restraint. Your laughter was all I needed to stop feeling so damn lonely. You chased dreams fearlessly, and possessed a resilience that could weather any storm. That person is still within you, my love, waiting to be rediscovered and nurtured.
Remember, my love, that you were you before me, and you will continue to be you after me. I am but a part of the beautiful tapestry that has shaped your life, and though my physical presence may be absent, my love for you endures. Find solace in knowing that you carry within you the love, the memories, and the essence of our time together. They are the foundation upon which you can rebuild and rediscover the strength that resides deep within your soul.
Grief has a way of clouding our vision, shrouding us in sorrow and uncertainty. But know this, my love: You possess an unwavering strength that transcends the pain. Beneath the weight of loss, your spirit perseveres, and within the depths of your heart, hope still flickers. In times of darkness, it is natural to yearn for what once was, for the comfort of what has been lost. But I urge you not to lose sight of the person you are—the one who existed long before our lives intertwined. You have the power to reclaim your identity, to navigate through the labyrinth of grief and emerge on the other side, stronger and more resilient than ever before.
Fuckin' bullshit. Tommy grips the corner - wrinkles spreading through the paper like the lacerations in his dream. His hope was dead. His love was what drove him, and the one who held it was gone.
Take my words as a gentle reminder, a guiding light through the darkest nights. Embrace the love that surrounds you, from within and from those who hold you dear. And know that, no matter the challenges you face, you possess the resilience and the capacity to rise above. You are not defined by your grief but by the beautiful soul that dwells within you.
For the first time, Tommy crumpled the letter and threw it out the window.
He'd changed so much, Nikki didn't even know who he was anymore. The man Nikki fell in love with died with him.
*
It wasn't so bad, now, being in love with Nikki despite his absence.
That was a lie. It was still as bad - he'd just gotten used to it.
Tommy smiled - he wore the necklace as if it would kill him to take it off from around his neck. He played with the small leather necklace. Today had been a good day - he'd taken a whiff of Nikki's cologne before going out the house. It made everything hurt less - pushed away the darkness creeping into his heart. It was lacking the faint smell of sweat, coffee and faintly of Jack - and the single scent he could only describe as "Nikki", but he made do.
He had to make do, because otherwise he'd fall apart. He was already feeling the seams holding him together loosen, the thread long snapped. The letters were over - he'd read each of them - from When you don't want to take another breath , to When the future is near, and beautiful, but terrifying, all the way to When you forget the exact look I had in my eyes when I saw you
The last one was the hardest. It was a small package - not a letter. Inside it were a small bracelet - clasp broken, a switchblade, and two small rolls of film. It had taken a week for the film to get developed, but when it did it brought tears to Tommy's eyes regardless. Pictures, from the first night they met. Tommy talking to Nikki - he wondered, for a second, how Nikki had even taken them. He smiled softly, seeing the scarp of paper on which Tommy had doodled the band symbol, next to both their names and a childish smiley face he had drawn.
It took tommy a week before he opened the envelope containing the other set of photographs. He laid in bed - didn't so much as answer the phone. He wasn't depressed, this was just where he and Nikki were always together. He wanted to remember, that was all.
He only wanted to remember. Feeling it again was out of the question.
*
It was a warm night - under the starlit canvas of the night sky, Tommy and Nikki found themselves nestled in a flannel blanket, the . The crackling campfire cast a warm glow, casting dancing shadows upon their content faces. They sat side by side, their hands interlocked. For the first time, Tommy felt relaxed. He felt the pain leaving his body, replaced by warmth.
The room was getting hotter - Tommy kicked the blanket off himself. It was strange - it was California, yes, but it was also December, and he slept with all the windows open. It should be cold, if anything.
"I miss you," He mumbled, leaning his head on Nikki.
"I'm right here."
"No, you're not. This is a dream," He yawned. "I don't ever want to wake up..."
"Baby, please don't say that."
He could hear it - the frown in Nikki's voice. He had a smile regardless - he was happy, in his dream. Encapsulated in the bubble of his mind - the one place where he could still see Nikki. He shrugged. "Can you show me how you like your marshmallows, again? How crispy?"
Smoke slowly drifted into the room - Tommy mumbled in his sleep, turning over in his bed. It was probably the neighbors smoking, he told himself. Ignore it, you can see Nikki without it hurting. You can be happy.
He remembered - of course he did. Charred on the outside, so you can eat just the skin to expose the melty insides. Drizzle that on your tongue in thin strings til it's over... He watched, rapt, as Nikki's laugh - clear as a stream in the woods - rang through, and the flames in front of him danced around the skewer.
"I love you," He said, leaning his head into Nikki's chest. He could smell the campfire - the smoke from it danced in front of his eyes. "Sun's coming out," he pointed at the sky.
Nikki smiled, "I love sunrises. Everything is so... Ethereal," he said, "Like you. It's like golden hour, except everything is new."
Tommy smiled, closing his eyes to kiss him. He frowned, "Put your hand down."
"Open your eyes, Tom."
"I'll wake up... And you won't be there."
"I'm never leaving you again," He said, pressing his lips to Tommy's forehead.
His mind screamed at him - you fool, don't do this. You have him with you, you'll just lose him again.
But he promised, he told himself, forcing himself to awake.
He blinked slowly, sweating. His lungs burned, the thick black smoke making it impossible to taken in a proper breath. In the dim glow of the raging fire, Tommy's eyes widened with terror as he realized he was trapped. The flames were orange - hot- and reached the ceilings. The heat radiated outwards, threatening to consume him.
Fear surged through every fiber of his being, urging him to fight against the suffocating grip of the smoke and the relentless advance of the fire. He struggled to move, to escape the fiery prison that threatened to claim his life. Desperation coursed through his veins as he clawed at the air, desperately searching for a way out. The unforgiving inferno raged towards him - the smell of charred paper coming through.
Oh.
Oh, no.
Tommy's heart sank as he witnessed Nikki's letters, the tangible remnants of their lives, reduced to nothing but ash. The weight of the loss pressed heavily upon him, and a profound emptiness settled in his chest. All those heartfelt words, those precious messages from Nikki, gone forever.
In the midst of the devastation, Tommy's trembling hands clung desperately to the single surviving photograph. His heart shattered as he realized that even the image of Nikki was marred, their smiling faces distorted by the fire's relentless hunger. The pain was unbearable, a deep ache that threatened to consume him from within.
As the smoke swirled around him, Tommy's eyes unfocused. Slowly, he blinked to bring them back.
"Nikki?" he choked out.
His love's green eyes had a soft glow in them. "Hey," He said, sitting on the bed besuide him. Tears clouded his vision, as he laid his head down.
"Nikki..." he said, tears streaming down Tommy's face as he whispered, "Nikki, please... come back to me."
Nikki's arms wrapped around Tommy, holding him close, their bodies pressed together in a tender embrace. "I never left, Tommy," he whispered, his voice familiar, safe. "I'm here with you, always."
With those words, Tommy's heart found a sliver of peace amidst the chaos. In that fragile moment, as flames danced outside and the world around them crumbled, Tommy found solace in Nikki's presence. Together, they weathered the storm, their love the only thing that remained.
He watched as Nikki laid beside him, arms open. He smiled.
"I love you."
"I love you too."
Tommy melted into the warmth near him. He felt a smile tug at the corners of his mouth, as he shut his eyes and laid his head down in his lover's arms.
*
Tragedy Strikes Rockstar Tommy's LA Home: Flames Engulf Iconic Residence
In a devastating turn of events, the illustrious Los Angeles residence of rockstar Tommy, renowned for his chart-topping hits and electrifying performances, was engulfed in flames yesterday evening. The sprawling mansion, nestled in the heart of the city's prestigious neighborhood, became the scene of a harrowing inferno that threatened to consume not only the physical structure but also the memories and treasures held within its walls.
The fire, which broke out in the late hours of the night, quickly escalated, fueled by a combination of dry conditions and the luxurious fixtures that adorned the property. Flames danced with an unforgiving ferocity, licking the sky as they devoured everything in their path. The once majestic estate, which had served as a haven for creativity and artistry, now stood as a mere shell of its former glory.
As news of the incident spread through the music industry, fans, colleagues, and friends expressed their shock and sorrow. The charismatic musician, known for his introspective songwriting and magnetic charisma, had touched the hearts of millions around the world. His lyrics, filled with raw emotion and vulnerability, had become anthems of love, loss, and resilience for his devoted fanbase.
Among the most devastating losses incurred during the fire were a collection of personal letters and memorabilia from Nikki, Tommy's beloved partner and bandmate. These cherished artifacts, containing moments frozen in time, were reduced to ashes.
As the investigation into the cause of the fire continues, the music community rallies around surviving members and dear friends, Vince Neil and Mick Mars, offering their support and condolences. Messages of love and solidarity pour in from fans worldwide, a testament to the profound impact his music has had on their lives.
"I can't even put into words the devastation we're feeling right now. Losing Tommy in such a tragic fire is beyond heartbreaking. He was not just a bandmate but a brother to us all. We shared incredible moments together, both on and off the stage, and his energy and talent were unparalleled. This fire has taken away not only his physical presence but also a part of our soul. We will forever cherish the memories we made with him, and his spirit will continue to live on through his music. Tommy, you were a true rock 'n' roll warrior, and we will miss you more than words can express," says vocalist Vince Neil, who has retread from the public eye.
Amidst the devastation that has befallen Motley Crue, one figure remains shrouded in silence. Mick Mars, the enigmatic guitarist known for his virtuoso talent and unwavering loyalty, has retreated from the public eye, refusing to speak to the press. Behind that stoic facade lies a heart burdened with immeasurable pain. For Mick, Nikki was more than just a bandmate; he was a younger brother, a kindred spirit, and a cherished friend. Mick had made a solemn vow to protect both Tommy and Nikki with his life, and now that his brothers have been tragically taken from him, his world has shattered into a million pieces. The weight of grief sits heavily upon his shoulders, leaving him lost in the depths of his own misery. In this time of profound sorrow, Mick seeks solace in solitude, grappling with the profound sense of loss that permeates every fiber of his being. As he navigates the tumultuous aftermath of this tragedy, we can only hope that time will heal his wounded spirit and that one day, the echoes of his guitar will once again resound with the strength and resilience that have defined his remarkable career.
Today marks yet another somber day in the history of Motley Crue, a band that has been no stranger to tragedy. Ever since the loss of the beloved Nikki Sixx to an intentional overdose, they have endured heartbreak and tribulation. And now, with the devastating fire that has claimed the life of extraordinary drummer Tommy Lee, our hearts are heavy with grief once again. It feels as if the hand of fate has dealt us a cruel blow, testing their resilience and challenging their resolve. The band, once known for its rebellious spirit and larger-than-life persona, now finds itself grappling with profound sorrow. Today, we stand united in our sorrow, offering support and solace to one another as we navigate this painful chapter in our lives. Motley Crue will forever carry the scars of these losses.