Two years ago
Luke rubbed his eyes, trying to clear the aggravation and exhaustion from his head simultaneously. His mind raced with flashes and images of the previous six months, compiling a staggering montage of lights, music, chicks, booze, fights, landmarks, more booze, plane flights, brawls, interviews, parties and even more booze.
“This isn't how it's supposed to happen.” He realized his words were probably a waste in the quiet hospital room. It didn't matter. He had some things he needed to get off his chest and Mike was the only one he told things to. Ever.
“We were gonna become mega rock stars and see the world, remember that? We had a deal. We promised we wouldn't do all the stereotypical bull crap that so many who'd gone before us did. We were smarter than that.”
He sighed heavily and ground his teeth together at the lack of argument that came from the still figure in the bed. Luke would prefer a straight out brawl to the steady sound of the ventilator and gentle beeping of the bedside monitor.
He wished Mike would defend himself. Shout and yell, give him an excuse or explanation. But the soft hum of the machines keeping him alive was the only response.
The past twenty-fours had been the worst kind of wake-up call Luke had ever received. He'd been at a bar with Blake, ignoring Carl's incessant cellphone harassment. All while his best friend and drummer had been rushed to a local hospital for a drug overdose. By the time Carl got through to them, Mike was already in a coma.
No one knew what Mike had taken, but Luke suspected it was heroin. The toxicologist would know soon enough. The real question, the one that had Luke's stomach tied into a thousand and one knots, was whether or not Mike had done it on purpose.
“You can't die.” Luke said sternly, his hands raking back his dirty blonde hair. “I need you to wake up so I can kick your ass.”
He should have seen this coming. He knew Mike was upset. He had been for most of the tour but Luke was too busy having...a good time. He didn't want to get weighed down by Mike's sour disposition. So he had started avoiding him. Ignoring him.
“I'm sorry,” his voice cracked as emotion filled his throat. “I should have been there. I would've stopped you.”
But that was a lie. Luke had spent the majority of the tour completely wasted, he wouldn't have known what to do at all. It was a miracle that Carl, their ever-loyal tour manager, had checked on Mike on a hunch. And it still might not have been in time.
“Seriously, wake up.” Luke said again, swallowing hard. “I don't know what happened with Ilsa and I don't know where we go after all of this but I promise...I promise you won't go through it alone. And I promise I'll be the brother to you that you always were for me.”
Hot tears dripped down Luke's face. “But you can't die...You just can't.”