Fingers Crossed (Synacky)

Chapter Eight

He called Dr. Wright the next morning (afternoon) while Brian was in the shower. As soon as she picked up, he said, “I just wanted to let you know that there is no way I am quitting the tour.”

She sighed loudly, “Zacky…”

“I will, however, get treatments while I’m out here, if you can help me find a doctor my insurance will cover, who can speak English.”

The line was silent for a moment. Then, Dr. Wright said, “I’ll help you find a few doctors if you send me a copy of your tour itinerary. However, I really think it would be best if you left the tour. Your immune system can’t fight the disease as efficiently when you’re under that kind of stress, not to mention the smoke and drink and sleep deprivation…”

“I’ll give up alcohol, okay?”

“Okay, I can’t force you to do anything… How is your fiancé taking this?”

‘Speak of fiancé…’ Zacky thought as Brian stepped out of the bathroom, hair wet and dripping onto his shoulders, towel hanging dangerously low on his hips. “He-He doesn’t know.”

“What? You haven’t told him about it? Zacky, your condition is serious, you can’t expect to keep it to yourself forever-“

“I can handle it. I’ve got it all under control. Just tell me when and where and I’ll be there. Okay?” Zacky turned away from Brian, trying to muffle Dr. Wright’s reply. He didn’t want Brian finding out now, not yet. He wasn’t ready.

“Okay, I’ll call you after I’ve spoken with your insurance agency. They’ll give me a list. And get me that tour info, okay?”

“Will do. Bye.” Zacky hung up, turning around just in time to see Brian drop his towel. “Who was that?” he asked, bending over to rummage in his duffle bag, giving Zacky an incredible view of his ass.

“It was uh, no one important. Zina actually. She’s fighting with her boyfriend, just needed some emotional support.”

“You’re going to leave Japan? I heard you say you’d be there whenever she lets you know.” Brian found a pair of boxers and pulled them out.

“No, I meant when we get back. And don’t bother with those.” Zacky stepped forward and tugged them  from Brian’s hands. “I’d rather you go without them for a while.”

~*~

“Osaka!”

The crowd roared as Brian and Zacky dove into the solo, crossing the stage to meet at the center, backs pressing together as their fingers moved swiftly over the frets. Zacky lived for this. Sure, he still got jittery right before they hit the stage, but only because he wanted to impress the fans. The fans meant everything to him. And he knew that his band meant everything to the fans. That’s why he couldn’t bear to disappoint.

Matt stormed across the stage, pouring his heart out to the crowd, turning to Arin’s kit and headbanging. Afterlife was such a good song, and they all knew it.

“Japan, let me here you!” Matt stopped singing, and the fans compensated for it, the sound of thousands of voices joining as one. Zacky’s fingers tripped over the frets a bit as he listened to them, in awe. Johnny stopped playing entirely. Brian did, too. Eventually it was just the crowd and Arin’s rhythm to keep them on track. And they fucking kept up, too. It was magic.

After the song, Matt grinned into the sea of faces. Zacky stepped up to the mic. “Well, you guys are giving Shads a run for his money.” That had them screaming.

“Alright, Japan, we’ve got one more song for tonight.” The reaction from the fans was bittersweet; they were glad there was another song, but sad that it was the last.

“This one goes to our fallen brother, Jimmy.”

The crowd screamed. A small group of people started chanting, “Rev! Rev! Rev!” and it quickly spread around the venue. Matt took off his shades, eyes sweeping over the army of deathbats. Zacky watched Johnny glance briefly up at the ceiling, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips, and he knew he was saying, ‘Look at your fans, Jims. They’ll always love you.’

The piano riff for Fiction started playing through the speakers. They had never brought out a real piano for this song. It was Jimmy who played piano on the track, and they didn’t want to mar it. Originally there wasn’t a guitar in the song either, but the band improvised so Brian and Zacky could take part.

As soon as Jimmy’s voice cut in, Zacky felt a tug at his heart. He felt it every time this song played. He remembered the satisfaction, the content look in Jimmy’s eyes as he handed them the worn, crumpled and smoothed out paper that contained the song. “It’s called Death.” He had a smile on his face. “And it’s my last contribution to the album.”

Last contribution to the album, last contribution to the band, last contribution to their lives. Jimmy was dead three days later.

Zacky felt a hand on his shoulder, looking up from his guitar to see Matt standing next to him. He was singing, his face was towards the crowd, but he squeezed Zacky’s shoulder in reassurance. It was all that Zacky needed.

And it had been two years ago, but how do you move on from something like that? Their time in the studio was painful and hard. They cried and angered easily, it was five months of writing and producing with the whole band on edge.

He remembered Johnny picked a fight with Matt. That didn’t go over well. And it’s hard to play bass when two of your fingers are in casts. He remembered Brian refused to come into the studio 70% of the time. “I’ve changed my mind.” He would tell them. “I’m not fucking doing this without my best friend.”

He wondered how the band would take it when he told them about his cancer. He didn’t want any of them to do anything stupid.

When the song finished, they used the dimming of the lights to slip off the stage. No encore, today. Not even with the fans chanting, “One more song! One more song!”

They had to catch a flight to Taiwan, immediately. So they congratulated each other, there was an exchanging of slaps on backs and asses, then they had to slide stealthily from the venue and into the tour bus, trying to avoid the fans. Zacky wouldn’t mind going out and signing some stuff, but they really were late.

“I’ll drive.” Zacky offered after everyone had piled on the bus. “It’s time to give the roadies a break.”

“Fuck yes!” Jason shouted, crashing onto the couch, right on top of Dan. “Screw you, man!” Dan growled, shoving him off.

“Are you sure?” Jason’s brother, Matt asked, “I mean, I’m sure you guys are exhausted as well…”

“Don’t sweat it. I’ve got it covered.” Zacky replied.

“I’ll keep you company.” Brian offered, and Zacky grinned. “Sounds perfect.”