One year previously…


Not unlike many nights after a show since starting to tour to support Black Veil Brides’ debut album, We Stitch These Wounds, a little over a year ago, Ashley Purdy headed off the bus to go find a local bar. They were in Glasgow, England, supporting the Murderdolls alongside The Defiled on the God Save the Scream Tour. The next night, they’d be playing in Manchester, which was fine by him, so long as he didn’t have to see his band’s frontman, Andy, for extended periods of time.

Despite his man-whore reputation, earned by years of sleeping with big-breasted bimbos with about as much sense as a rock lying on the ground, he’d fallen in love with Andy, like the idiot he was. Like he professed to be in interviews, be them solo or group, he was pretty sure the young frontman was as straight as a stripper pole. Even if he didn’t have his reputation to uphold, he doubted he’d ever get a serious chance with the man he loved, if only for that reason alone. Just that thought made him release a soft, depressed sigh, and he was glad that none of his bandmates had come with him tonight.

He wanted to be alone, to figure out why he’d fallen for the frontman, one of his best friends, in the first place…and to drown his sorrows. The drunker he got, the less of tonight he’d remember, and therefore if he saw Andy with a woman, he likely wouldn’t remember it the next morning. Granted, he’d pay royally when he was flushing his guts down the toilet and nursing a hangover from Hell, but right now, he didn’t care.

“Evenin’,” the bartender said. It was easy to hear him since the bar was practically dead, considering that it was a Thursday night. “What can I getcha?”

“A bottle of Jack,” Ash requested somberly.

“Lookin’ to drown yer sorrows, mate?” he asked as he turned to the shelf behind him.

“Yeah, that’s exactly what I’m looking to do,” he answered, nodding as he paid for the liquor.

“Any particular reason why? Not many people come in here, requesting an entire bottle fer ’emselves,” he was informed.

“Like an idiot, I fell in love with someone I can’t have,” he sighed, taking a seat as he cracked open the bottle.

“Well, damn. That really does suck.” The bartender gave him an expression of pity. “I feel sorry fer ya.”

“Like you wouldn’t believe,” he grumbled, relishing the burning of the amber liquid as it travelled down his throat and into his belly.

“Actually, I would.” The man sighed sadly as he cleaned a few glasses sitting in front of him. “Ya see, I’m as queer as a three-pound note. The man I love doesn’t love me back. Far as I know, he’s as straight as a stripper pole, and I have no chance wi’ him.”

“Jeez, we certainly make one helluva pair,” Ash chuckled wryly. “That’s exactly my case, too.”

“My only problem is that I never get to see the man I love, so it’s not like I can tell him.”

“I wish I were that lucky. The guy I love is in the same band as me, so when we’re on tour like we are now, I have to see him every day.”

“My advice, mate…tell him while you’ve got the chance. Ya never know when life will be cut short, fer either of ya.”

Curious, but not wanting to intrude on his personal life, he cocked a brow, but said nothing.

“The reason I never get to see the man I love is because he’s dead, mate.” The bartender sighed again. “He was an idiot and got sloshed at the bar I used to work fer. I tried getting him to let me drive him home, but he refused. The next morning, I heard on the telly that he’d gotten ’imself killed in a drunken collision that he caused, and I still haven’t forgiven myself fer not fighting against him harder.”

“I’m so sorry to hear that,” Ash said honestly. “You’re right, but I’m just too scared. This guy is my best friend, almost like the baby brother I never had. I’m finally living my dream, and I don’t want him to take that away from me since the band is his, if I were to scare him with my admission.”

“Sometimes ya have to take a chance in life. If I’d known what would happen to my love that night three years ago, I’d have told him how much I loved him, just so he’d know before he left this plane.”

“I won’t completely disregard what you’ve told me, but I can’t guarantee that I’ll do it.”

“Fair enough. You have a good evenin’, ‘n’ try not to get too sloshed, ya hear?”

“I will. And you have a good evening yourself.”

With a small, almost unnoticeable wave, Ash headed out the door of the bar with his bottle of Jack in hand, ready to go find a place to hide from the world. It felt good talking to someone who understood exactly where he was coming from, someone who didn’t know him or Andy from Adam’s housecat, and wouldn’t be able to go back and tell the younger man later. Still, he sighed sadly as he wandered around aimlessly, soon finding a park within sight of the bus.

He knew the guys wouldn’t bother looking for him until at least dawn’s first light, knowing that when he went off by himself like that, he wanted to be alone. He parked his ass on the ground beneath a tree, looking up at the stars shining overhead as he downed his Jack, thinking about whether he should just come clean or keep his dirty laundry hidden, so to speak. He’d meant what he’d told the bartender about not wanting to ruin his friendship with Andy by admitting that he loved him, and not like a brother, and possibly having his dream job taken from him because the young man hated him for being that way.

Hours passed, and when he looked down at his phone through blurry eyes, he realized that it would be four AM, according to the time zone he was currently in. That, and he had a missed call and voice mail from Jinxx, the band’s multi-instrumentalist, and the only one to ever act even remotely responsible. Upon listening to the voice mail, he found out that they were leaving a couple hours earlier than expected.

As quickly as he could, Ash hauled himself to his feet, his unfinished bottle in his hand, and stumbled back to the bus. Once there, he didn’t feel like fighting to find his keys and hoped that someone was up…or that they wouldn’t be too pissed when they answered the door. He beat on it a couple times with his fist, grumbling about staying out so late, even though it’d been his choice, since it was a bit chilly out. Moments later, the door swung open to reveal Jinxx himself, and for that he was grateful. He didn’t want to run into Andy in his drunken state, as there was no telling what he’d do or say, and he couldn’t take that risk. Realizing he was skunk-drunk, Jinxx took him to the bathroom and settled him in front of the toilet.

“Next time you get this schnockered, don’t stay out quite so late, okay?” he said softly.

“I’ll try,” the bassist slurred drunkenly.

“You stay here, curl up on the floor to sleep, if you have to,” his friend said, brushing his hair up into a loose ponytail. “You’re gonna need it sooner or later.”

Nodding, he watched him go back into the bunk room and crawl into his bunk, where he’d undoubtedly been before he pounded on the door.
* * *
The next morning, Ash awoke in the bathroom floor in front of the toilet, and boy was he glad he did. He barely remember going out the previous night, seeking to drown his sorrows, or coming back to the bus. He didn’t even remember what’d brought him back, just that his friend and bandmate, Jinxx, had been the one to let him on board and make sure he was settled as well as he could before going back to bed himself. Everything else was a total blur, and oddly enough, that was exactly how he wanted it.

He immediately got up on his knees and knelt before the toilet he’d previously been laying in front of, his stomach roiling violently from the amount of alcohol he’d consumed the night before. The moment he got the lid and seat up, he started heaving with equal violence, his eyes smarting and ribs hurting from the force. Part of it even shot out his nose, and he felt the burn from both the liquor and the acid.

Shortly thereafter, when the dry heaves stopped after he’d regurgitated everything in his stomach, Ash fell back against the wall across from the toilet. Too weak to move for a moment, he lifted his leg and used his foot to close the lid with a loud bang! and flush the mess down the drain. His breathing was a bit too rapid and shallow for his liking, and he was still seeing a few stars from the force of his vomiting. Hell, he was lucky he hadn’t passed out in the middle of one of his wretches again, something that’d happened numerous times when he reached that level of intoxication.

KNOCK KNOCK! “You okay in there?” The voice on the other side of the bathroom door belonged to none other than Andy.

“I’m fine,” he managed weakly.

“No, you’re not,” the frontman said, opening the door and kneeling down. “It sounded like you just left your guts in the toilet.”

“I feel like it,” Ash said, chuckling wryly. “Course, that happens when one gets too drunk.”

Something that he couldn’t identify flashed in the younger man’s icy-blue eyes, but it was gone so fast that he wondered if he’d imagined it. “Ash, you’ve gotta quit drinking like this. You’re gonna kill yourself one of these days.”

“My body, my life, my choice,” he snapped testily. “The concern is appreciated, but in the end, I don’t care.”

Taken aback by his friend’s harsh words, Andy rocked back on his heels and stared at him, his mouth agape. After a moment, he frowned and rose to his feet, turning to leave the bathroom and the older man to his misery, since that was clearly what he wanted. With a sigh, the bassist rose to his own feet, his knees shaking slightly, and washed his face of the previous night’s makeup and brushed his hair before heading to the living area.

He had no idea why his best friend would be as upset as he was over his drinking and the way he’d reacted, but it didn’t really matter. If he knew that he was in love with him and trying to drown that love in alcohol, he’d probably run in the opposite direction screaming like a girl. That thought made him chuckle softly since, considering the depth of the frontman’s voice, that would be a damn near impossible feat, even if he screamed in falsetto. Ash shook his head as he made himself a cup of coffee to help with the hangover he was nursing, then took a seat on one of the couches.

It wasn’t long before the rest of the band started coming out of the bunk room one-by-one, CC being the last since he was a lazy ass. The hyper drummer was anything but at the moment, and for that, they were all thankful. A person could only take so much of a hyper CC before they wanted to bash his head in with something, but at the end of the day, they still loved him. If he weren’t hyper the majority of the time, he wouldn’t be the CC they knew and loved.

As conversations were struck up amongst themselves about what was going on that day and when, Ash was able to forget his feelings, if only for a short time. The second Andy got a phone call and had to step off the bus, which was now stopped in Manchester, because it was his girlfriend, Juliet, he had to excuse himself, as well. He went back to the bunk room and got himself dressed for the day, sans makeup and war paint, then stole a pack of the frontman’s cigarettes. He didn’t normally smoke, but drastic times called for drastic measures, and he’d consider this a drastic time. His love for the young man was getting to be almost too much to handle, and he needed a bit of stress relief before he exploded.

Notes