Page 21 of Toxic Kiss

Ash shows up next, silent as a shadow, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed.

“You’re not saying much,” I say.

He shrugs. “Not sure there’s anything to say at this point. You’ve clammed up and pulled away. You’re obviously angry, and you act like we should just understand when you don’t really say shit to keep us in the loop. You claim you’re not using, but all the signs point to drugs. I don’t know what to believe anymore, Cy. I want to believe you, I do, but you don’t give us much to go on.”

That stings. It’s true. They’re not mind readers. But I can’t tell them what I don’t know.

Vex storms in like a hurricane, punches the bag I’ve been using, then hits me with his death glare.

“Well, look who’s vertical and pretending he’s fine,” Vex drawls. “You trying to punch your problems into submission?”

“Depends,” I say. “You volunteering?”

Vex grins, but it doesn’t touch his eyes. “You haven’t changed since high school. You still try to solve every problem with sarcasm. Do you think walking off stage makes you look badass? Newsflash, frontman…you’re the problem. You’re not mysterious. You’re a fucking mess. And unlike Eren and Ash, I do think you’re fucking using again. If nothing else, the alcohol and pain meds you’re on are a fucking no. You did that again the other night, don’t bother trying to deny it.”

I look away. I probably should stay away from the alcohol and meds combo, but sometimes it’s the only thing that masks the pain—in my head, my heart, my body…you name it.

“Vex—” Eren tries to stop what’s coming, but nothing stops Vex mid-roll.

“No. He needs to hear it. The rest of us bust our asses while he spirals at every opportunity. Restaurants, red carpets, shitty motels, and even five-star resorts, now we can add live television interviews. Every concert is a coin toss. We all end up walking on eggshells, picking up pieces, trying to spin the garbage into a story the fans can stomach. Five fucking years and I’m tired of doing it. Really fucking tired.”

“What the hell do you want me to say, Vex? I told all of you that I wasn’t well. I told you I’ve been having migraines and pain. The doctors are running tests.”

“Then stop the partying, man. We don’t need to throw huge ragers just because Declan says it helps with our ‘image’. Fuck him. Pull your shit together, or I’m gone.” He stomps out, swearing all the way down the hallway.

Ash glances at me. “You alright?”

“No.” I grin. “But at least you asked.”

“Don’t turn this into a pity party,” Eren snaps. “We’ve all got ghosts, Cyrus. But you don’t get to burn the whole damn house down with all of us in it when we’re right here offering help.”

Before I can answer, Ledger steps in, practically dragging Vex with him.

“Everyone shut up,” he says. His voice is commanding like a coach or general leading his brigade. “This isn’t how we handle shit.”

Vex rolls his eyes. “No, we handle it by pretending everything’s fine until Cyrus overdoses or sets the stage on fire.”

“I’m not on drugs,” I growl. “I haven’t touched anything hard in two years. Not since…well, you know.”

I don’t want to rehash waking up in the back of an ambulance. I spent two months in rehab club med for that one.

“Fine, you’re not on drugs…yet,” Vex mutters. “We all know that is the path you’re on. It’s only a matter of time before you fall down that rabbit hole all over again.”

Ledger moves between us.

“Alright. Enough.” He looks at me. “You said you’d call a doctor if you didn’t feel better. Do it. Or let me.”

“I’ll handle it.”

“You’ve been saying that for months,” Ledger says, calling me out.

A mix of emotions flickers behind his gaze. Concern, doubt, fear. I hate it. Hate the way their eyes mirror mine. Hate that they care enough to be disappointed. Hate that I don’t have answers, and I hate that it scares the shit out of me.

I turn away.

“I’ll be fine. I mean if it was really bad they would be rushing me in for more tests. Right?”

“Push for answers. We just started a tour and you know how fucking grueling it is,” Ledger says.