Falling Awake - Ricky Wilson Fanfiction

Bad Things Happen to Good People

Bad Things Happen to Good People

I hurriedly zip up my bags as I watch the players disperse out of the ground and towards the coach which I shall be getting on. Unlike the game in Birmingham, there were numerous hamstring injuries from the players slipping on the outfield due to heavy rain yesterday which meant I had to give treatment to a lot of the players. From both teams in fact. Two of the Surrey players collided whilst fielding and one of them had to go off, I helped them. I would have felt bad otherwise. It was a victory for Yorkshire which is great, meaning the lads will most probably be rowdy on the way back in celebration which is fantastic for me. Note the sarcasm. I would rather just sleep, peacefully. But no, I have to get on a stinky coach with a bunch of rowdy Yorkshiremen and probably won't sleep a wink. I was meant to be riding with Ricky but he disappeared off this morning all flustered after getting a call from one of the guys but he wouldn't tell me why...

Earlier Today:

I yawn as I exit the spare room to grab some breakfast before heading to the ground for the one-day game. I run my fingers through my hair sleepily when someone bumps into me suddenly making me wake up. I turn to see Ricky rushing around as he slings his jacket on looking quite red in the face. 'Ricky?' I question making him pause momentarily but then he continues on his rampage by shoving his feet into his battered converse. 'Where are you going?'

'I have to go back to Leeds. You will have to travel back with the team.' He slides his fingers around the back of his heels to fit his shoes and sends me a brief apologetic look.

'What happened? Is everything okay?' I urgently ask.

'I got a call from Nut, I have to go back to the studio.' He chucks his rucksack over his shoulder and grabs his keys off the small table by the front door. I approach him with caution with a frown feeling completely in the dark. 'I'm sorry.' He states before planting a kiss on my cheek. 'Here.' He passes me the spare key. 'Please lock up when you leave.'

He seemed so stressed when he left this morning, I hope it is nothing too bad. I follow the guys towards the coach which is being loaded up from underneath with the equipment but I'd rather not wait half an hour when we reach the ground to see my stuff again so I just take up two seats on the coach. Luckily it is quite a large coach for about twenty people so it is no issue. I sit and lean against the window with my headphones in as I close my eyes hoping for this journey to pass quickly.

\~.~.~.~.~/

I awake to someone tapping me on the shoulder and look up to see one of the players smiling down at me. I pull out my headphones and look at my surroundings to see everyone making their way off the coach so I grab my stuff and climb off the coach. It is about nine o'clock. I yawn tiredly and start to say goodbye to some of the coaching staff before wandering down the road towards a taxi rank. I should probably go home but a part of me wants to go and find Ricky to find out if he is okay but I don't know where he lives. Perhaps he will still be at the studio...I might as well check because it is not too far from my house. I approach a black cab and smile at the driver who clambers out of the vehicle to help me with my bags as he asks me where I am heading. I say the address and we immediately set off down the road towards the Kaiser Chiefs' studio. It is getting quite late so he probably won't be there but it is worth a shot right?

The cab driver makes small talk with me as we drive around the streets of Leeds passing numerous people who are starting to queue up for clubs and others leaving eateries. All these people have such great social lives but I don't have many friends up here apart from the Kaisers and some of the people from work. I need to expand my social circle. Maybe not to go clubbing with but just to "hang out" with. I talk to the driver about my job and he seems quite impressed as he is an avid fan.

Soon enough though the studio comes into a view and I pass the driver over some money and tell him to keep the change before I climb out of the taxi with my bags and start to approach the back door to the studio. I take a deep breath and pull at the door feeling pleasantly surprised to it opening with ease and the lights being on inside. However, it is a complete mess everywhere. Even messier than it was at the party. The windows of the recording booth have been smashed, paper scattered everywhere and furniture shoved to the side of the room apart from one sofa which has been repositioned to face the wall and sat on it are three of the guys; Ricky, Whitey and Simon. I carefully put my bag down causing Whitey to turn his head suddenly, looking angry but then he features soften in surprise. 'Kasey?' At the sound of my name Ricky also turns to look at me but he looks out of it. They all do.

'What happened?' I ask as I look around the destroyed studio. The drum kit which stood in the corner has been dismantled and the skins have been punctured. The speakers have been destroyed, the guitar's strings cut and keyboard looks like it has been hit with a hammer. Whoever did this have a grudge and a half. It is a mess.

'Someone broke in last night...' Simon explains but then pauses.

'Have you spoken to the police?' I question when I notice the spray paint of some sort of brand on the wall.

'Yeah...they are suspecting a gang crime.' Whitey huffs, 'It is lucky we are insured and that these instruments were very much backups that were just left here most of the time.' That is lucky. Very lucky indeed. I guess that if it was their most prized guitar or keyboard or drum kit etcetera then this situation would be a million times worse. Just the words gang crime makes my skin crawl and my mind takes me back to the times when Josh didn't have everything under control. I shudder at the thought before remembering that this situation is not about me, it is about the guys and Ricky hasn't said a word since I arrived.

'Did they take anything?' I feel like if I keep asking questions then they are eventually going to get annoyed.

'A safe.' Peanut answers me as he enters the room holding a case of beer and a bottle opener. He places the case on a table and starts to tear it open. 'Containing about a thousand pounds.'

'Shit.' I curse as he pulls out a bottle and opens the top to pass to Whitey who accepts it by glugging it down. Both Simon and Vijay – who followed Peanut into the room – do the same. 'I doubt your insurance will cover that.' I comment earning a hum of agreement from Peanut. I sigh and start to feel like I am intruding as I look around, once more, at the damaged studio. Peanut uncaps another bottle and attempts to pass it to Ricky but earns no response.

'Rick.' Peanut presses making Ricky hum and look up with a blank expression. 'Beer.' He takes the beer and sips at it. Not like the Ricky I saw the other night who was loose and rowdy with a beer in his belly. Vijay takes a seat on the floor leaning against the wall just as Peanut also sits down but in a worn armchair. Watching the guys just sit there, emotionless, downing beers makes me feel concerned. They seem so...broken. Like the gang targeting this studio is like a burglar targeting their home. I guess it kind of is their home though.

'You guys can't just sit here and drink beer all night.' I mutter while pulling my phone out of my pocket.

'Watch us.' This is the first thing Ricky has said since I got here and he said it with so much spite and anger. I frown and turn my back to them as I take a photo of the red, spray paint of the gang sign so I can ask my brother about this. Yes, I don't want to rope him into this world again but I think he would have better luck in identifying the gang than the police do. It really hurts me to think that but it is true.

'Right...' I trail before taking a deep breath to steady myself. 'I am going to go home now. I will be back in the morning to help you guys tidy up.' I receive a couple of hums and grunts in response to this which usually I would take to heart but these guys have gone through such a terrible ordeal that I am not going moan at them.

I return the way I came towards the door and pick up my bags which I put over my shoulders. I must remember to bring painkillers tomorrow because they are definitely going to need them if they make their way through that case of beer and they probably have others. I feel so bad for them. Why do bad things happen to good people?