on tour || DNF

prologue

Tw:
mentions of sex
drugs

Drugs, sex, fame, shouting, music, drugs again and alcohol. that's what made up George's life.

The drummer of ecstasy, he was the classic train wreck celebrity that always some how made it to the headline for something negative, even if it is something he doesn't realise. Yesterday was because he went to a formal interview hung over on coke and vodka after a late night neighbourhood party.

It was no surprise that he woke up to multiple rings off his band mates having a shout, mainly the lead singer Wilbur soot though. Although Wilbur may appear like a tall gentle man with his harmonious voice on stage but in reality he was the most strict picky man ever, you would never catch him doing something that could risk his career or even create a bad thought.

On the other hand the George was a huge party animal with a large amount of confidence, either wearing latex shorts with fishnets or baggy cargos with chains and messy mascara covering his face topped off with a small ripped shirt, making him appear tired all the time. Reflecting this his cocky spirited attitude and daring words didn't help his case to protect his bands reputation. everyone else managed perfectly fine but why was he struggling so much?

*ring ring*

With a loud groan, George managed to wake himself for once and reach a weak tired hand over to his nightstand to reach for his phone, instead, the nightstand wasn't there.

Confused, George shot up and looked around, this wasn't his bed. This was the filthy bathroom floor and his arms were practically hugging the toilet seat that he was sick in the previous night, god he even had his shoes on still. Most of the time he at least manages to make it to his plush bed in the other room.

While mumbling to himself he dragged himself up onto his feet and reached over to the bathroom counter to press accept, not even checking who it is.

His heads spiralling too much and he can't even make out his own reflection in the foggy mirror, George clicked the speaker button because it wasn't physically possible for him to pick up the phone and to hold it to his ear.

In the reflection of the misty mirror was a figure. His eyes, once a kaleidoscope of dreams, now dimmed behind carefully curated lenses. Society had melded him like clay until he became a delicate porcelien doll, yet brittle to the touch. even the softest of taps would shatter him.

Before George could even compute what the phone was saying, shouting from the phone loudly echoed through the once desolate bathroom, a voice he recognised.

"George! what the fuck! have you checked twitter?" Wilbur's voice sounded furious and like he was a cracking time bomb, slowly ticking closer to completely losing it with George.

"hm? no..?" he replied with a loud yawn that echoed through the dirty bathroom.

He could tell it was something bad, it always was something bad anyway.

Wilbur huffed an annoyed sigh under his breath before disappointedly reading out something from a news article "'Wilbur soot's,' that's me, 'band mate yet again caught in a club under the influence of alcohol and what else is to be rumoured as cocaine and kix.'"

George stared at the phone blankly, his hands slightly shaking from yesterdays events and his migraine hurting more than ever. In the background of Wilbur's continued enraged ramble he opened up the mirror cabinet and pulled out the first bottle of pills he hoped would be paracetamol, it wasn't it was some sort of perc drug so he quickly placed it back in trying to not give it a second glance, if he gave it a second glance his addiction would win over.