Chapter Text
Ches always told himself that once he left home, he’d never go back. He’d never beg to be let back in. He said it so often it was supposed to feel true, supposed to be something he could lean on.
Though, sometimes he still wished that he would go back.
The band was nice.... at first. it was everything Ches had ever wanted.
But unfortunately, nothing is perfect forever. Lordi was always fighting with him over control of the band, just like when they forced all of them into a contract with some shady manager.
Rehearsals used to be fun too, they'd all bond over writing lyrics, and different ways they could incorporate each of their instruments into the songs.
But now half of the band's rehearsals ended early due to arguments.
Even thinking about it made Ches roll his eyes. The contract they signed itself was a shitshow. The manager promised them fame and money, but they were all broker than shit, and speaking of fame? They were basically nobodies compared to other bands.
The only person who had ever really supported Ches was Glam,
A pretty and tall blonde boy with big blue tired eyes.
The kind of weird permanent-tired that didn’t go away with sleep.
He didn't really sleep much anyways.
Despite his unconditional support, Ches felt like even Glam wanted to give up on him too, he could always tell by the way Glam looked at him.
Ches stared at the ceiling, listening to Glam breathing beside him. He tried to match his own heavy breathing to Glam's calm breathing, tried to let it pull him into a nice deep sleep, but his thoughts kept crawling back up.
Home.
His mother.
No matter what he did, the thoughts would never fully go away, maybe temporarily, but that only ever happened if he was drunk, sleeping or playing.
And Ches couldn't sleep right now.
And it was far too late to fiddle with his guitar; he was sharing his room with glam.
The shitty manager could only afford two rooms for the band, each with a single bed.
Lordi and Bob called the first room. That left Ches and Glam with the other.
Ches told himself he didn’t mind. He wouldn’t have it any other way, really—he couldn’t stand Lordi most days, and Bob was a major buzzkill. The only person who didn't mind his presence was Glam, who constantly clung to him. He didn't mind Glam either. Glam was closer to him than anybody else was.
If he were honest, he found it a little sad. Glam really didn't have anyone else to hold onto or look to for advice in this world.
And unfortunately for Glam, Ches did not make many wise decisions himself.
There were plenty of better people to rely on.
People who didn’t solve their problems with cheap beer and bad decisions.
Guess he hadn't met them yet.
Ches rolled over to face towards glam—well, almost. A large pillow separated the two of them.
Ches watched the other’s face anyway. He did this so often, it was sort of a habit. Glam always had a hard time sleeping, so Ches would be sure to keep an eye on him.
While Glam was staying over at his house—no, his mother's house— his face would become extremely distressed in a way that made Ches feel helpless.
Eventually, Ches figured out it was because of nightmares. If he could, he’d wake him up, and remind him he was no longer trapped at home, he had nothing left to worry about.
Sometimes he'd go back to sleep after. Other times, he'd just lay silently, staring at the ceiling.
Those times, Ches didn't know whether to console him, or leave him be.
But tonight, Glam slept peacefully. His hair lay fallen across his face as soft moonlight kissed a few blonde strands.
For a second, Ches considered reaching over to brush it away, to see glams face a bit more clearly, but he stopped himself.
That would definitely wake Glam.
Restless, Ches rolled out of bed onto the floor. Moonlight shined onto his face from out of the room's window.
The carpet beneath him felt rough and dirty, the way carpet on the floor of a classroom felt. Like it had been vacuumed but never shampooed.
He needed to feel something——anything—because lying still meant thinking, and thinking always dragged him back to his mother.
He hated how his mind wandered to her on its own, it was another habit he couldn’t break. He hated the ache of knowing she probably didn’t care where he was or what he was doing… and still, he couldn’t stop wondering if she was alright. If she was safe. If she was drunk. If she was lonely.
A sharp smell of day-old booze slipped into his nostrils, a scent he often associated with his mother.
The first time he drank, he’d wondered how something so bitter could fulfill her the way nothing else ever had. It didn’t even taste good. But a few hours later, when the buzz softened his thoughts, he understood.
Finally understanding was the worst part.
Ches could go for a good beer right now,
it's not like anyone was around to stop him. He just needed to not be alone with his thoughts for one night. It's not like this is common thing.
The last time he drank was the night before at the party after one of their gigs, and only mildly. He didn't even get drunk.
Ches carefully reached for his shoes to not wake glam. Every action felt louder he took felt much louder than he felt it should've.
He had almost gotten both of them on before he heard sheets rustling behind him
Much to Ches’s own dismay, a half-awake Glam rose from his pillow, rubbing at his face.
“..Ches..?” glam spoke softly. He blinked hard, then reached out like he meant to touch Ches’s wrist—stopping himself at the last second.
Ches froze with his hand on his shoelaces. For a second his shoulders went tight, then he forced them to loosen. “Damn it…”
“Sorry glam.” he quickly corrected. “didn't mean to wake ya.” he quickly moved toward the door
Glam carefully observed Ches, taking in his choice of shoes and 'quiet' movements. He noticed that Ches wouldn’t directly look at him.
His appearance wasn't perfectly put together like it would be for a gig, but he looked nice enough to leave the hotel.
Although according to the clock sat beside him on a nightstand, it was 1 am. Where could he had been going at this hour?
Glams eyes flickered between the door and Ches, then settled on Ches.
“It's awfully late Ches.” Glam said. Not accusing. "Where are you going?”
Ches hesitated, though, quite obviously, as Glam could feel his tension.
He couldn’t tell Glam the truth. He knew how Glam felt about drinking... and drugs... and all things that were 'unhealthy' but it was far too late to make him get all worked up about it. He also didnt want this to lead to an argument. He would find out anyways... he just didn't need to know now.
Ches turned his face toward the dark instead of toward him.
“Music shop,” Ches paused. “Need strings for our next gig…”
Glam furrowed his brows, trying to get a better look at Ches’s face, “Right now?” he whispered. “Do you want me to come with you?”
“Nah, I'm all good.” He forced a grin. “Go back to bed, zombie boy.”
Glam hesitated, eyes flicking to Ches’s shoes, then back to his face. “So.. you’re just going to get strings?”
Ches quickly nodded.
He swallowed. “Ches, we can’t even afford more than two rooms. Is buying new strings after every gig really necessary?”
Ches smiled and rolled his eyes awkwardly “Of course it's necessary! it keeps the sound clean and bright!” He lifted his shoulders like it was obvious, like it was nothing. “You even said so yourself!”
Glam’s mouth tightened. He didn’t argue again, not because he couldn't argue against him but more because he realized Ches was ending the conversation between them on purpose.
Ches hurriedly opened the door before Glam could find the right words to stop him.
He needed this.
Just for tonight.
“I swear, I'll be back in an hour or two, okay?” Ches murmured. “Don’t worry about me.”
The door shut quietly behind him.
Glam stared at the door, then finally looked away. He sighed heavily.
He’s lying.
Glam flopped back onto his pillow and turned to the side Ches was supposed to be lying on. The empty space looked bigger than it had any right to.
He’ll come back.
He said he would.
But glam knew him better than that. The only times Ches had ever asked glam to not worry about him, was when he was about to do something worth worrying about.
Glam knew him better than anyone else, and he knew that there was always a sort of pattern before he’d go and do something wreckless, or bad for his health.
Ches would become more withdrawn from the group, he’d especially become distant from Glam.
He’d try to laugh it off, he'd loose shoulders and a careless voice.
he’d say, ‘I always act like this!’
Everyone would pretend to believe him. Glam never could. Not when Ches’s eyes wouldn't meet his.
And Glam knew what this sort of behavior was really about. Ches had loved his mother so much, he almost didn't leave with the band because of her, like he was still waiting for proof she loved him.
Glam tried to warn Ches his mother wouldn't care, but of course, Ches wanted to prove him wrong.
Much to his own disappointment, his mother told him to get her beer on his way out.
The ride to the city over was a real quiet one, not like anything Glam had been used to since he met Ches.
He always had something to say
But not that night.
He said he'd be back, right?
Glam frowned
You can’t stop him.
He tried closing his eyes
But you can stop him.
You've stopped him before.
Glam frustratedly opened his eyes again.
He laid in bed for at least thirty minutes, staring into the dark while his thoughts went in circles.
The thought of waking up to an empty bed wasn't a pleasant one.
He tried to force himself to breathe slower, to let the tightness in his chest loosen. It didn’t.
He said an hour.
The words didn’t feel real. Ches could easily lie about this to anyone else.
Not Glam.
He finally gave up on sleep.
He pushed the sheets off his legs and sat up. The fabric dragged over his skin, and he looked away before his mind could latch onto the mysterious origins of the stains on said stains. He didn’t need that right now.
He turned on the lamp on his nightstand.
Dim, warm light bled into the room, softening the corners and making everything look a little less miserable. Glam blinked at it like the light might soothe him by itself.
Of course it didn’t, but it helped him move.
Quietly, he got up and off the bed, he stumbled a bit from a lack of energy.
He crossed to the bathroom on unsteady feet and flicked on the light and looked into the mirror.
his hair was flattened and tangled from sleep. Glam raised a hand to it anyway.
He picked up the pink brush Lordi had given him and started carefully working through the mess. The bristles tugged at a knot near his temple, and Glam winced.
Everyone knew how much Glam’s hair and appearance mattered to him.
It wasn’t vanity, not really. It was more about feeling free, He valued freedom.
Lordi on the other hand valued looks, but they were just as particular about their own hair as glam was. Lordi knew Ches wasn't all too big into metal hair styling, he didn't know much about cosmetics and physical appearance, so he had only taught glam the basics. Lordi decided it was best to tell glam all they knew about achieving big poofy hair.
Hairspray, heat, teasing…. More hairspray.
It wasn’t good for either of them. Glam knew it every time his hair felt dry afterwards. But when it looked nice, he let himself pretend it was worth it.
Besides, he and Lordi tried to make up for it when they could, and applied hair masks to the damage, both of their hair felt softer afterwards, although he couldn’t tell if it was truly helping the condition of his hair, or only giving the illusion of his hair being fixed.
He didn't let himself dwell on it too much.
He decided to do his usual eyeshadow and mascara, nothing too special. Just... presentable. He was only going out to find Ches and return him back to the room. Nothing else mattered.
Carefully, he gathered his crossbody, keys to the room, about 20 dollars, and a little map. Glam hadn’t fully memorized this city, as they’ve only been in it for a short time.
Before leaving, he checked the map for all the bars in the area,
There were 3. all of the others were out of walking distance, and luckily for Glam, Ches strictly says that the panther was reserved for musical purposes, the keys were left under his pillow. Glam didn't need to worry about Ches running off with the panther, and this gave him enough hope to know that he hadn’t planned on being gone forever.
Quietly, he slipped out of the door and into the hallway of the hotel, he looked around, trying to remember which side the stairs were on.
he carefully made his way out of the entrance and onto the sidewalk pavement.
the outside air was chilly and unforgiving, but he barely felt it.
Glam didn't have time to go back and get a jacket.
Ches needed him.
He should’ve stopped Ches at the door.
Should’ve said something more.
He had the chance.
Ches had been right there. Close enough to grab. And maybe not directly, but he was calling out for help.
He started toward the direction of the first bar, Glam was good with directions.
The path was dimly lit by overhead streetlamps. Some flickered, others didn’t. This was a shadier part of town, so of course, the streets weren't well taken care of.
Shrubbery grew from the cracks in the pavement, a few potholes littered the streets, the place almost looked forgotten, nature had begun to run its course through the concrete jungle.
He tightened his grip on his crossbody.
A bit of reluctance filled Glam's mind.
What if Ches had really been telling the truth? What if he's home now? What if he would be hurt seeing that Glam assumed the worst?
Glam slowed, his fingers tightening around the strap of his crossbody, his breath fogged in front of him.
Nothing could justify not going out to look for him. Even if it was fruitless, it showed that he cared.
He reminded himself he was doing this because he cared, Ches was his closest friend. He didn't want to see him end up dead in some alley. He couldn't bear the thought of that.
But his worry was a bit of a double-edged sword
Glam didn’t have the kind of confidence that got you through locked doors, he didn't have the kind of charisma that got deals out of others.
Glam remembers it clearly, a few days after the band had first left home, Ches slid an ID over to Glam, grinning like it was a magic card trick. Glam’s hands shook when he took it. The name wasn’t his, but the picture definitely was.
Glam hurried his pace, still careful enough to not trip on cracked pavement.
Glam simply couldn't do things like that on his own, and Ches explained his activities in a way that made it hard to imitate.
Ches was his way of survival.
He needed Ches.