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"Holy Shit!-
AGHH! FUCK!"
There was a loud thud as Brad's phone hit the floor. He hadn't meant to drop it (obviously) and he really wasn't looking forward to picking it back up. His hip still hurt like a bitch after he'd dislocated it rushing to get the post that morning. He contemplated what he'd just seen, the twitter notification that'd flashed across the top of his screen. There was no way he read that right? Right? There must be something he was missing, some context. No-one would just post that on the internet unprovoked. Right? He couldn't put it off any longer, he bent over to pick up his phone. Ironic really, considering what he'd just read.
Yup. That was definitely Ronnie Radke's twitter account. The blue check mark confirmed as much. And he'd definitely read that right. But he couldn't have, surely?
Tina had heard him from the other room where she was making a cup of tea and she knew that sound. She's heard it before. Something important had happened. Then something had been dropped. And she could take a pretty solid guess from the tone of the "AGHH! FUCK!" that picking up whatever had been dropped was going to make a bad pain day even worse. But she was holding a pan of boiling water at the moment and she wouldn't have time to put that down before Brad inflicted that on himself. Her actions were haisened never the less, and she darted through the door the get to him as fast as she could.
"Tina can you read this for me? I just want to be sure that I'm not dyslexic or anything."
He was stood awkwardly in front of the sofa, as if he'd just frozen half way through standing up and had been too distracted to realise. She pulled the phone out from between his fingers and flipped it round to read what was open on the screen. She recognised the twitter interface.
"Okay, now bend-I'M NOT READING THAT." She took a moment to compose herself, Brad was staring at her with the same stunned face as she turned progressively redder.
"I'm really sorry, do I have to say that? Outloud? Ugghh... I guess if I really have to? The message says 'Okay, now bend over and'... urm... 'spread your'... 'your ass cheeks? for me.'"
Brad's eyebrows raised so high you could've sworn they almost touched his hairline. A frown of disgust spread across his face. Tina couldn't remember a time he'd been so spooked by something, at least she couldn't remember a time since he'd stopped smoking.
He just moved his glance back to the floor, slowly nodded and sat back down on the sofa.
"I'd better finish brewing that tea, it looks like you need it."
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
The chat was flooding with skull emojis as the soundbite played out."Well that royally sucked," Brad announced over a series of 'bop' sound effects. "It wasn't just bad, it was out of touch, off beat, cringy and just all round really uncomfortable to listen to. Red headphones." Then a comment caught his attention.Any news on the Ronnie Radke front?-not_a_troll7"Honestly no. It's been really quiet. Besides like the ocassional weird Twitter DM there's been nothing. I've been kinda waiting for the Cringe:the album videos to get taken down but honestly I think the trojan horse worked. Like it actually worked. It's crazy. I'm not complaining thought, it means I don't have to waste my time reuploading them anymore."Ronnie Radke smirked at his monitor. He wasn't stupid, he'd watched the 'apology' videos. Infact, he'd watched every new video since Cringe: The Album dropped. And maybe a few videos that came out before that. And he'd been keeping an eye on the livestreams too. He'd been trying to convince himself it was just incase he was namedropped, but there was something more to it now. He knew that this dweeb was just trying to ride his coattails to get more views, and he definitely wasn't the first person to do so, but somehow it felt different. It was more than just churning out content trying to troll on Ronnie, the critique felt genuine and the hatred felt personal. There was a deep anger towards him that was fascinating. He'd rewatched the FIR reviews more times than he could count, in a failed attempt to understand what he was feeling. Every criticism left this weird sinking feeling in his chest, he couldn't quite describe it but it brought him way back to his childhood. He felt stupid and pathetic and small and afraid again, it was like the dread he felt after dropping a plate, waiting for his mom to start yelling as soon as she heard it smash. But he wasn't afraid of Brad like he was his mother. Infact he liked Brad, he respected the fact he was honest and didn't sell out or back down, and he respected the sheer nerve of the guy. That's one of the reasons he'd left the 'apology' videos up. Plus he found them kinda funny. He found Brad kinda funny too. Ronnie had started out just trying to crush what he thought was another troll in a sea of haters but it had morphed into something more. He got it now, he saw why this guy had such dedicated fans. He'd been trying to cover it up by sending threatening twitter DMs, but he was feeling so conflicted about the whole thing it was taking over his life. He'd spent so much time wresting with his emotions trying to figure out how he felt and how he should be feeling that it was all he'd had time for for weeks. All he wanted was to get this man's approval, just to know what it felt like. To know if it would make that sinking feeling go away...But in order to win this guy over he'd have to do something drastic.An unsettling noise snapped him out of his internal monologue. What sounded like a crash, then some cow moos then counting in spanish? He refocused his eyes on his monitor. Someone had requested what he assumed was some vocaloid bullshit based off the cover art. KABOOOOOM!!!!! was blasting through his headphones. He could tell it was going to be a pretty cursed request stream today.Radke pulled the charging cable out of his bluetooth headphones and connected them to his PC before putting them on and getting up to go make himself some lunch. He went downstairs to the kitchen, and looked at the mess. Flour was still all over the countertops from the biscuits he'd made with his daughter that morning. He hadn't really felt like cleaning up after her mom had picked her up, but now the untidyness was irritating. He listened to Brad's stream as he opened a draw, pulled out a dishcloth and turned on the tap to wet it. It was nice to have some company, this kinda stuff always made him feel like shit. It helped to have a distraction from how much he missed Willow as he wiped away the handprint she'd left behind. Brad slowly made his way through the queue as Ronnie set to work cleaning his clinical White mcmansion kitchen.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
"Yo that's weird."Something had caught Brad's attention as he sifted though the mail. Amongst the bills, medical letters and junk mail there was a medium sized red envelope with black print. Placing the other letters in a pile on the kitchen table, he sat down and turned it over in his hands. It was closed with a black wax seal stamped with what he assumed was a vampire bat. The return address on the back read:Epitaph Records2798 W Sunset BlvdLos AngelesCA 90026United StatesShit. Were they sueing him? Recieving a letter from a record lable was never a good sign. But surely if it was a legal thing it wouldn't be so... fancy? So what was it? Why would they sent a letter to him, a relatively niche music reviewer? And why was just the thought of what could be inside the envelope giving him heart palpitations? There was only one way to find out, it couldn't stay Schrödinger's Epitaph Records letter forever. Brad hesitated for a moment, before sliding his nail under the wax seal and ripping the letter open. He reached in and pulled out... a ticket? It definitely looked like a ticket. And it definitely wasn't legal papers. Brad unhooked his glasses from his shirt collar and slid them on. He skimmed over it. July 31st, Milwaukee, Popular Monstour.Holy shit.Popular Monstour. The stupid fucking pun Falling In Reverse tour name. Why would the record lable want him there though?Brad rolled the paper in his fingers trying to see if it was 2 tickets. Nope. Just the one. He picked the envelope back up and looked inside. No second ticket. But there was something else. He pulled it out and unfolded it. The paper was thin and the indents from the ballpoint pen used to write it were the first thing he noticed. Aaaahhhh. He had opened it up the wrong way. The writing was on the other side. Brad flipped it over and began to read the scrawled handwritting aloud."Hey Bradley, I know we've not got off to a good note but I thought I'd invite you to a concert, it's the last night of the popular monstour and I noticed it was in your area. You might not like my work but you won't be able to deny I put on a good show. You don't have to turn up but it's a backstage ticket. We can fight it out like men. If you aren't a coward. HAHAHAHAHAI fucking hate this dude. Who signs of with 'hahaha'?? Besides like a 13 year old boy with a joker obsession. Also, I'm pretty sure 'we've not got off to a good note' isn't a real phrase.""So are you gonna go?" Tina chirped in from the utility room adjoining the kitchen where she'd been listening, "Oh, and it should be 'good start' not good note.""Exactly!! And I don't know, theres only one ticket and it's for the pit so it'll be absolute hell. Also like I don't know, I don't really trust that Ronnie Radke has good intentions I can't lie. I just have a kinda bad feeling about it.""You could always phone up and ask for a second ticket? Essential companion or something? So you aren't going alone. You've got a few weeks to think it over anyway."Driving down the freeway, Brad quickly looked over at the map on his phone. Tina usually just read out the directions, but she wasn't there to do it and for some reason the maps app just wouldn't work properly so he was just hoping he didn't miss his turning. It fucking sucked that Tina wasn't there with him. He'd called Epitaph and they said that it was sold out so they couldn't possibly give him a second ticket. He'd even called the venue but apparently he had to request an essential companion ticket upon purchase, and couldn't request one afterwards if the condition diagnosis predated the ticket sale. It was absolute bullshit, but it didn't matter how many times he told the representative on the other end of the phone that he hadn't brought the ticket. Realistically, he probably could have got one eventually if he kept calling but at that point going to the concert alone would be less hastle and stress than making so many phone calls. He fucking hated phone calls.'OH SHIT!' Brad stared at the roadsign that was moving towards him at a startling pace. He yanked on the stearing wheel and took a sharp left turn. Fuck this, nevermind turning off the music to focus on the road, he needed the music on to distract himself from overthinking. As he reached to press the power switch on his cars CD player, he felt a twinge in his right shoulder. He convinced himself it was a problem for later as the disc whirred in the drive and an instantly recognisable piano refrain began to leak from the speakers. He turned up the volume."MAKING MY WAY DOWNTOWN, WALKIN FAST, FACES PASS AND I'M HOMEBOUND"The floor began to clear as people slowly filtered out of the venue. Brad considered joining them, it was getting late and everything was hurting more than he would have liked. Being pushed about in a crowd full of sweaty teenagers really hadn't helped his shoulder, and the sheer power of the music reverbarating through his body made his chest ache. And he still had a relatively long drive ahead of him."Mr Taste In Music?"Brad snapped his head round to see some dorky looking kid in the classic suit and tshirt combo -that everyone really wished had stayed in 2016- stood a few paces away. From what the guy was wearing -and the neon green lanyard that read 'staff'- it was pretty safe to assume that he was some unfortunate intern who'd been deligated the job of rounding up the band's friends sticking round for the wrap party, and all the super nerds who'd payed $$$ to meet their idols after the show. Brad wasn't quite sure what catagory he fell into but he quietly hoped it was the former."Erm.. Mr Taste In Music would you come this way please?" Silently, Brad followed behind him. It had already been a really long day and he was feeling a little too overstimulated to want to hold any kind of indepth conversation. They reached a black stained wooden door to the right of the stage, the intern pulled out a set of keys and unlocked it. After trailing through a few corridors and tech rooms crammed with tangled heaps of wire and spare equipment, they reached what appeared to be the bands dressing rooms. There wasn't a single doorway that didn't have a skinny-jean clad, red plastic cup holding, eyeliner wearing emo stood in it. The stench of alcohol blended with the sickly sweet smell of redbull, turning Brad's stomach slightly. He couldn't quite describe why, but he felt ill at ease.As he was scanning round the area, someone caught his eye. Or more so, a group of people. Hoodled near the open fire escape doors stood a group of men, chatting loudly. They were all at least 6 foot tall, relatively well built and exposing an almost unnecessary amount of heavily tattooed skin. It seemed safe to assume this was Ronald Radke's insane posse (but from the vaguely impossing aura they gave off, it was evident they weren't clowns though). Brad hesitated before approaching them, but it looked like they'd noticed his presence, as they all fixed their stares on him and an eery silence fell over the group. As he took a step towards them, one of the men stood forward. He certainly wasn't the tallest, but his sleeveless shirt and heavily torn jeans exposed the fact he was one of the more heavily inked. He reached up and dragged his fingers through his long black hair, pulling it away from his face. His easily recognisable and currently rather sweaty face."I didn't think you'd actually show up. Damn."Brad just stared. His thoughts had been racing but now his mind had gone completely blank. He couldn't tell if he was star struck, shell shocked or maybe something else entirely. Probably just overstimulated. Ronnie continued walking, closing the space between them. As he left them behind, the group he had been stood with began to talk with each other again, once again raising the volume in the room."So what'd you think?"Brad looked up at Ronnie's face. That was weird. He wasn't used to looking up at people. I mean he was 6 foot 2! What did that make Ronnie? Like 6 foot 7?? That's some basketball player type shit!!! His eyes darted to the floor. Platform boots. Okay that made more sense. What was the question again? Oh yeah. The concert. In all honestly it'd been kinda bad. The atmosphere was great but that didn't hide how weirdly stationary the band had been. Or the way that the vocals went to shit everytime Radke ran across the stage to scream at a slightly different section of the crowd. Not that the vocals were particularly great anyway. But you can't just say that to someone.Suddenly Brad was painfully aware of the fact he hadn't answered yet. And he was still looking down. He locked eyes with Ronnie and said in the most deadpan tone possible, "It was shit." The singer looked away, noticably trying to hide his disappointment. Then he snapped his gaze back to Brad as a smile spread across his face."You can't win 'em all I guess. How're you getting back? Want us to call you a cab? On the house obviously." His tone was weirdly jolly, the sudden switch sent a strange shiver down Brad's spine."No I'm all good, I'm driving back.""Okay cool." Ronnie raised his volume so he was easily audible to the rest of the room, "I'm gonna head back to my trailer now, it's been a long week and I just want to shower and go to bed. You can tell I'm getting old ahahaha. Get home safe." He reached over with his spare hand (the other was holding a red cup) and patted Brad on the shoulder, leaving behind sweaty handprint before turning on his heels, waving at his posse and walking out the door and disappearing into the night.Wow. That was so weird. Like genuinely odd. Brad didn't really know what he expected but that definitely wasn't it. He'd seemed... normal? Considerate even? A bit unhinged still but he certainly wasn't the edgy alpha male troll he roleplayed as online. He stood there frozen for a while, thinking in slowmotion, desperately trying to process what had just happened. But he knew the clock was ticking, it was getting later and later and he was starting to wear thin. He couldn't be bothered trying to find his way back through the labyrinth of corridors to leave through the main exit so he decided to just take the L and leave through the fire exit and try to find the car park from there.Walking past the gangs of emos, he felt eyes burning on the back of his neck, hastening his pace as he made a beeline for the door. The cool night air hit him as he stepped into the darkness. He looked around and pulled out his phone as he headed in the direction of the nearest street light. The screen lit up displaying the time. 1am. Face ID denied. What did he expect, it was nearly pitch black. There was no way that was going to work. It wasn't like he had anything to do that couldn't wait till he reached his car though. A slight rustling sound came from the bike shed he was stood next to. It was probably just a raccoon or something though.He turned away from it and continued walking towards the light.Then he felt a gloved hand cover his mouth as someone pressed up behind him and wrapped their spare hand round his torso. He shook and convulsed but the grip only tightened and the stench of chloroform filled his lungs till his body went limp.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Shouts from the corridor leaked into the bathroom, signalling to Radke that concert predrinks had begun. He leaned in closer to the mirror, squinting to make out the intricacies of his featured in the dim light of the yellowed striplights. It was unclear if their current shade was due to age or nicotine but it mattered little. From what he could tell, his eyeliner was smudged just enough to look like he didn't care. He just hoped he hadn't overblended it, but he'd rather swallow his own boot than pull out a mirror and fix his makeup in the corridor around 'the boys'. And he wore really fucking big boots. Raking his fingers through his hair, he took a deep breath in and reached for the door handle. Usually he avoided predrinks like the plague (to preserve the vocals) but tonight was the last night. Fuck it. He needed the extra courage anyway.As he stepped through the door, he was greeted by the cheering of 'shots'. It seemed that Tyler had already started pouring malibu into everyone's red frat cups, and from the looks of it, it was more than just a shots worth. The bassist was less than a pace away when he started pouring the dreggs of the bottle into his own cup, and as he shook out the last few drops, Radke lunged forward, grabbed the drink and necked it. He grinned at Tyler, pausing for a moment to relish in the shocked expression on his friend's face before winking, ducking between the crowd of musicians and quickly strutting away. I mean sure it was a cheeky move, but he needed it more than Tyler did anyway. Plus there's nothing worse than a sloppy bass.Ronnie weaved his way through the snaking passageways and corridors then up a short staircase to the wings of the stage. He wasn't even on for another few hours, but he liked to show support for the other bands that were playing. And he liked to keep an eye on his equipment. There'd been soundchecks earlier in the day but nothing made Radke panic more than the idea of going on stage after someone else fucked with his kit.He found a drum case to sit on and wait. Eventually the opening band started trapesing in, looking like they'd maybe had a bit too much to drink. Actually, he could feel that malibu kicking in now too.Fuelled by adrenaline (and huge amounts of caffeine), Ronnie leapt about, blinded by the bright spotlights. He grabbed the mic, unclipped it from the stand and ran across the stage. He leaned into the crowd, searching for someone. A strobe lit up a cluster of faces but it was too brief for him to get a good enough look to recognise any of them. But he could make out a short figure stood near the bar at the very back, the only one hanging back from the audience. Maybe that was him? Squinting, Ronnie craned his neck to try and get a better look.No. He couldn't let himself get distracted. He HAD to put on a good show. This could be his last chance to prove himself.Because if he fucked up tonight? It'd be a long time before he was on stage again. He tried desperately to push the thought out of his mind and actually focus.Still breathless from their set, FiR began to make their way back to the dressing room. Perhaps Radke was revelling in the applause a bit too much, for he was distracted by the cheers still echoing down the corridor and misjudged the last step. As he hurtled towards the ground there was a metalic clank and he thrust out his arms in an attempt to protect his face upon impact. With a meaty thud he landed on the concrete, hands and knees stringing with white pain. After taking a second to recover, he shifted his weight back and knelt up. Searching around for whatever he'd dropped, he noticed his phone and hip flask lying a foot away from where he'd fallen. Quickly, he snatched up his flask and crammed it back into his right pocket before picking up his phone and checking the screen. No cracks. Thank god. As he stood up, he put it in his back pocket. His band was already disappearing round the corner as he broke into a jog, trying to catch up to them. While they continued the treck back to the dressing room, Ronnie looked over his injuries. It didn't seem like he was bleeding, but his hands were badly grazed and his knees would bruise by tomorrow, for sure. It wasn't anything serious though.The hubbub coming from the next door along was a sure indicator that they'd found the party though. Tyler pushed open the door and the band filed in, holding it till the last member had entered."GET OVER HERE!"Ronnie snapped round to see Chris stood with a few of their mates at the end of the corridor, by the fire doors. At the start of the tour, Radke had felt a weird ambiguity towards the man, but as the weeks went on he'd grown close to Chris Kelly. It was the campy fun of Ice Nine Kills that'd got them the spot on the tour, but they were genuinely good guys and just great to have around. Ronnie paced towards the group, and as he passed the drinks table he grabbed a cup. The group chattered as he stood with them, slowly swirled the drink in his hands, every so often looking up at the door. From the viscosity he could tell whatever was in the cup definitely wasn't straight alcohol. It had a strange gelatinous property and there seemed to be a white powder forming on the surface. Cautiously, he raised it to his lips and took a sip. It tasted like monster but sweeter and somehow also more sour? As he swallowed, it burnt the back of his throat. Eyes still on the door, he nudged Tyler, who was now standing beside him."What the fuck is this?" He passed the cup over, and his friend leant over and sniffed the contents."AAGGGGHHHH IT WENT UP MY NOSEEEE!!" After quickly handing the cup back and taking a moment to recompose himself, the bassist said, "From the powder on top, and the fact it's fizzing like a nuclear reactor, I'd take a guess that it's monster, rainbow bacon and something else. Maybe vodka? I don't know. I can't tell. I'm gonna go out for a smoke, want me to dump it for you?""Nah it's fine."Just as Tyler opened the fire escape and stepped out, another door opened. Ronnie froze. From the geeky look of the guy who just entered, it was the intern sent to guide in everyone with a backstage ticket. Thank god FiR didn't do that meet and greet bullshit, he couldn't bare dealing with fans, and it took up way too much time. Plus Radke had plans anyway. He nudged the guy next to him and pointed out the gang of teens entering, pens in hand, ready to beg anyone who vaguely looked like they could be in a band to sign anything and everying. A hush fell over the group as the memo spread through their collective conscience. If they weren't contractually obligated to be there, now was the time to go hang out in the bathroom till the storm passed.Then a figure caught Ronnie's eye. He was much taller than the singer had anticipated, but his fluffy facial hair and exhausted expression made it certain. Mr Brad Taste In Music. A conflicting wave of emotion hit Radke like a ton of bricks. He was glad that he'd actually turned up but also... There was no backing out now. He'd actually have to go through with it. And it just felt weird knowing that things were never gonna be the same again. He snapped out of it as soon as he saw that Brad was approaching, and Ronnie stepped towards him.He opened his mouth to speak but the words froze in his throat. To hide his nerves and buy himself some time, he went to brush his hair back from his face as he composed himself and prepared to speak again. "I didn't think you'd actually show up. Damn."Shit. That was too quiet. He'd have to be louder next time so everyone could hear. Brad looked frozen, like a deer in headlights. Ronnie continued walking, as it seemed pretty obvious Mr Taste in Music wasn't going anywhere. He stopped less than an arms length away and spoke again, "So what'd you think?". He stared down into Brad's dishwater grey eyes. The younger man's gaze shifted down. Damn. Radke knew his jeans were tight, but still. Damn. He just hadn't expected Brad to be that... forward?It had to be said, Ronnie's first impression of Brad was that he was really innocent, but now he was getting to actually talking to him? Radke was finding out that he kinda had dirty mind. And Brad was fucking tall as well. He hadn't planned for that. But he seemed pretty tired, so at least he shouldn't cause too much trouble. Then Brad looked up. Their eyes locked."It was shit."Okay that caught him off guard a bit. He'd expected a similar reaction but just the sheer honestly took him aback. Ronnie broke eye contact, trying to hide the grin spreading across his face. He'd been nervous before but now it had turned to excitement. This was going to be fun. Just one more thing to make sure of. He knew brad was here alone but he just wanted to be safe. Tina could be waiting in the car. What had he planned on saying? Oh yeah."You can't win 'em all I guess. How're you getting back? Want us to call you a cab? On the house obviously." He watched Brad's face intently, waiting for an answer."No I'm all good, I'm driving back." The anxiety in his voice was so thick it was almost tangible.Trying to put him at ease, Ronnie smiled and reassured him, "Okay cool."Now it was alibi time. He'd written it out, rehearsed it, then burn the script when he knew it off by heart. Taking a deep breath and preparing to speak from the diaphram, he opened his mouth, "I'm gonna head back to my trailer now, it's been a long week and I just want to shower and go to bed. You can tell I'm getting old ahahaha. Get home safe."Perfect. He patted Brad on the shoulder, flinching slightly from the grazes across his hands, then turned round and waved goodbye to Tyler and Chris as he headed towards the door.Ronnie stepped out into the night, necked his drink (if it could be called that) then crushed the cup in his hands and threw it to the ground. He pulled his keys from his pocket and clicked the button. There was a quiet bleep from across the carpark as his car unlocked. He quickly jogged towards it, well aware that his time was limited. He opened the back passanger door then pushed it till it nearly shut, so it looked closed but wasn't. To save time for later. The stinging from his palms reminded him of his prior injury. Fuck. He couldn't afford to risk it, he'd have to wear his driving gloves. They were his favourite driving gloves too. He just hoped he'd be able to wash out the smell afterwards. He opened the front left door and rooted around till he found them in the glovebox. He gently pushed the door shut then looked around for a place to hide.There was a bikeshed close by, near enough to his car, but far enough from the firedoors that it couldn't be seen from inside the building. Perfect. Radke ran over, took shelter inside, and stood far enough back that he was mostly obscured by the darkness. He slipped on his gloves. Now he waited...And waited.Eventually, he heard some movement nearby. He peered through a hole in the bikeshed wall, trying to make out who it was. It was a tall individual dressed in a t-shirt and shorts, and from the slightly off walk, Ronnie was pretty certain it was exactly the man he was after. He pulled the flask out of his right pocket and a chamois rag out of his left. Usually he just used it to polish his car, but it'd do for this. The man continued walking then paused directly infront of the shed. His phone lit up his face as Radke rushed to unskrew the lid of the flask and tip out the liquid onto the cloth. Still illuminated by his phone screen, the person gave a cautious glance over at where Radke was stood. As the man, who was now easily identifiable as Brad Taste In Music, slowly turned his back on the shed, Ronnie siezed the opportunity. He set down the flask, and emerged from the shadows to creep up behind him. As he closed in, he held up the rag in his left hand and reached round to smother the younger man's face. Brad flinched.Responding quickly to Brad's shock, Radke grabbed him round the waist and held him tight, fearing he would try to escape. Brad began to shake and convulse and Ronnie gripped tighter, bracing to take the man's whole weight. Slowly the thrashing stopped and Brad slumped in his arms. Radke grabbed onto one of his arm and stooped slightly to get a hold of his leg, then threw Brad over his shoulder in a fireman's lift. Quickly, he moved towards the car. The last thing he needed was for someone to catch him right now. He nudged open the car door with his foot then lowered Brad down across the back seats. Suddenly remembering everything he'd left behind, Radke ran back to get his flask and pick up the phone Brad had dropped in the kerfuffle. He held up the phone to the light, squinting to find the indent in the case which indicated the SIM card location. He ran his nail under the latch, clicking out the tray and removing the SIM. For safekeeping he placed it into the coin pocket of his jeans, then threw the phone into the nearest bin.He dashed back to the car and climbed onto the back seats. In preparation, Radke had left some low stretch 11mm nylon rope in the footwell. However limp bodies are... well, limp. Limper than a biscuit. And while it's easier to bind someone's ankles and wrists when they're knocked out than it is while they're thrashing, it's still not ideal. After a few minutes of wrangling Brad's body, Radke felt he was properly secured and he climbed over into the drivers seat.As he revved up the engine and started to pull out the parking lot, he tilted the rearview and glanced at the man tied up in the back of his car. He'd fantasised about this moment for months, and it had actually happened. There was no going back now. It was never gonna be the same again. Half to himself, half to Brad, Radke whispered,"This is it. This is everything to me."
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Ouw.This mattress was so awful... and... cold?Brad shifted his weight slightly. That was weird. Whatever he was lying on was solid. Maybe he'd fallen out of bed or something? Brad slowly opened his eyes, sleep sticking his eyelids together slightly. He tried to make out his surroundings, vision still blurred. All he could see was a wash of grey and black. It definitely wasn't his bedroom then. Or anywhere in his house, that he could think of. Hhmmm.... Maybe the laundry room? No. There wasn't enough room in there to lie down... Where had he fallen asleep then? He'd gone out in the car... to a concert?As his eyes slowly began to adjust, Brad became aware that there was someone nearby.Then it all came back to him. And there, sat cross-legged, was Ronnie Radke, smiling slightly as he watched Brad's face. Pulling his hand up to rub his eyes, Brad felt his other wrist dragged along with it, and it hurt? He glanced down and suddenly realised that his wrists were bound together.Fuck. Panic flooded over him as he tried to draw back from Radke. He had to get away. He didn't want to die here. It was too soon. He was too young. He wasn't ready yet.Noticing his distress, Ronnie reached over and firmly placed his hand on Brad's thigh. While it did nothing to calm him, the contact sent a chill down the younger man's spine, paralysing him with fear."You were out for a long time. Like a reallllly long time. Are you okay? That shit usually only lasts 2 hours max. But you were out for like 2 days." His voice was racked with concern. Suddenly his harsh expression seemed like it was more one of concern than one of malice. But that didn't change the fact that Brad was utterly frozen."You had me scared. HAHAHAHA I was worried I'd have another murder charge against me..." His eyes glazed over slightly for a few seconds but he must have caught himself slipping because he snapped right back. "You've not got any health conditions or anything right? Because that was real freaky... You want some breakfast? Like a drink or something?"Brad just stared, trying to force himself to think. Damn, this was so weird. Health conditions... He tried to speak but the words lodged in his throat. "Ye-" Fuck. His mouth was so dry. "Eeerrm. Yeah." It was more of a whisper than anything, but it seemed like Radke had heard him."I'll go get you something." Ronnie patted Brad's leg as he stood up and headed towards a staircase in the corner of the room. As he was leaving through the door at the top, he turned to the man lying tied up a few feet below him. "Don't go anywhere, okay?"The moment the door shut, panic set in again. Brad lifted his head, in a desperate attempt to look around. There were stairs up, but no stairs down. And no other doors or even windows. So this was probably the basement. He rolled onto his back and pulled his knees towards his chest as he sat up. Against the back wall was a 4 seater sofa with a coffee table infront of it. And from the looks of the foam panneling, the whole room was soundproofed, and there were no obvious escape that weren't up a good 8 feet of stairs. Any free space on the walls was plastered with Falling In Reverse posters and opposite the sofa was a huge flatscreen on top of a TV cabinet. But Brad barely had time to gather up his thoughts before the door swung open again."Okay so I reheated some french toast that was left over from breakfast and put some berries on it or there's some falafals and salad if you want that instead? And I made you a cup of coffee aswell." He began to walk down the steps, carrying a tray. As he got closer, Brad could see he wasn't lying. There was a plate of toast and a plate of gross green looking stuff and a cup and a little white jug. Probably for milk. Radke reached the bottom of the stairs and paced over to where Brad was sat and knelt down to place the tray next to him. Brad just stared at it. God, the french toast looked really fucking good. It smelt really good too. And he was really fucking hungry. I mean he hadn't eaten in days...What was he thinking? He couldn't just accept food off this freak."I'll eat it if you try some first." Damn, he still wasn't used to the rasp of his own voice."You don't trust me? I'm offended HAHAHA" Brad was quickly distracted from Radke's irritating laugh by the fact he actually picked up the toast and took a bite. Then a falafal. Then the coffee. "It's fine, see? No poison. No drugs. And if there is, then that's wholefoods fault, not mine.""You shop at wholefoods?" Brad was genuinely suprised, but somehow the question felt like a strange feign of normality. He reached for the cup with both hands and slowly pulled it to his lips. "I just can't imagine you shopping there. Like just stood in an isle. I guess it's where all the rich people shop though, so it kind of makes sense. Oh, and I was saying yes to the health condition. But the food is good too."The look of bemusement on Radke's face quickly shifted to concern."Wait what do you have? Your not gonna just die on me, are you? Do you need any, like, medication or anything?""I mean yeah, but mostly just for pain management. Like I take antidepressants and I used to be on methylphenidate but I'm not anymore because it was really messing with my heart. But yeah. Just amitriptyline, and duloxetine, and morphine but that's only when I need it.""What do you take them for?""EDS. It's like joint dislocations and chronic pain. Ehlers-danlos syndrome, it's like a genetic mutation in collagen? And the antidepressants are for, well, depression. Oh and ADHD and autism. But I don't take anything for that.""Okay. Right... I'll head to costco later then. You need anything else?" He said, standing up."Okay so first off, I'd like some ibuprofen gel. Like the really big tubes. And I'd really appreciate not being on the floor. And this rope? Not great either. I've got very thin skin oka-"Brad was cut off as Radke stooped down and picked him up bridal style."HEY! Hey! Put me down! Stop right now! Or I swear to god I'll..." He was dropped down onto the sofa with a soft thud."Anything else?" Radke rolled his eyes, but he seemed more amused than angry."It was a reasonable request! I have scoliosis, okay? And your floor isn't exactly comfortable.""That everything then?""No, I'd like a fresh change of clothes, a few cushions maybe a blanket? Oh and while you're out, could you get some BBQ chips? But they've got to be the Trader Joe's ones. And sometimes my ankles really hurt so if you could get me some-"Radke was already out the door before he could finish.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
It was difficult to tell how long it had been. The lack of natural light made sure of that. Maybe days, maybe hours, maybe weeks. All Brad knew was that he felt like his life-force was slowly fading away..."I'M HOME!!!" There was a loud, heavy thud as the front door slammed upstairs. Brad jumped at the sudden noise, holding his breath as he listened to the muffled clatter above. He didn't seem angry, but then again he hadn't seemed particularly threatening when they first met, so that didn't mean much. It was best to hope for the best but brace for the worst. The sound above got closer and closer till he knew Radke was at the top of the stairs. As the latch of the door began to click, the creak of the door swinging was quickly covered by Radke's voice, "Okay so I couldn't get everything, they said they're all out of ibuprofen gel but they should have a shipment in on Wednesday, and I've got some in the first aid cabinet anyway so hopefully that'll last till then...""You've been gone so long... I thought you had left me here to die.""HAHA I was literally out for 20 minutes." Radke said, pattering down the stairs."WHAT?! It felt like hours. Days even..."Ronnie rolled his eyes, not quite understanding that Brad was being deadly serious. He placed a tote bag down on the ground a foot away from the head of the sofa and sat down next to it. He was beginning to empty its contents when he heard Brad taking a shaky breath in, as though he were trying to build up the confidence to speak."I'm really sorry, but do you mind if I use the bathroom?"Ronnie paused, slightly stunned. He'd planned out every detail up until this moment. Yet somehow, he'd completely forgotten about basic human bodily functions. He racked his brain, trying to work out the best plan of action..."Sure, there's a bathroom upstairs."Radke stood up and held out his hand to help pull the younger man up. Once Brad had heaved himself upright, still stood on the sofa, Radke grabbed him by the waist and threw him over his shoulder. From the slight resistence he felt, he could tell he'd caught Brad off guard but wasn't really in a position to do anything to stop him."HEY! You can't just do that! Warn me for fucks sake! OUCH THAT HURTS!"Ronnie just slightly adjusted his grip on Brad's leg, tightening it if anything, and tried to drown out the incessant whining. As he paced across the room and up the stairs, he was shocked by how light Brad was, despite the fact that he was a good 6 inches taller than the singer. Maybe Radke was just more jacked than he gave himself credit for, but it didn't even take that much extra energy to carry Brad over his shoulder.As they left the basement, Brad squinted, blinded by the intensity of the sunlight. Regardless of his eyes inability to adjust, he tried desperately to make sense of his surroundings. The White souless corridor maze did nothing to satisfy his need to take in the new environment and his breathe quickened as his sense of direction got more and more lost. After about a minute, they came to a halt. Radke stooped down so Brad's feet touched the floor and he removed his hand from where it had been grasping Brad's upper thigh to prevent him from slipping, leaving him stood upright."Okay.. How's this gonna work? I mean I can untie your feet but I'm gonna have to leave your hands, okay?" He moved back and watched Brad's face. He waited for a nod of approval before kneeling down to remove the rope from his ankles. He noted some irritation where the binding had been but he didn't really get a proper look. Brad was already fidgetting and cracking his ankles as soon they were freed. Radke sprung up, not quite realising how close he was to Brad. He stood there for a second, looking up at his face before remembering what he was meant to be doing. Radke quickly diverted his gaize to the floor as he reached behing Brad and clicked open the bathroom door."Okay so... I'm going to wait out here then.." He turned his back to the door and he heard it creak shut behind him. He wasn't sure why but it felt wrong to stand facing the door, like it was infringing on Brad's privacy or something. He tried to avoid listening to the sound behind him, instead focusing on a small mark on the wall infront of him. His walls were perfect White. Or they should be. He stepped forwards and started trying to rub it off with his sleeve when he heard the door creak open behind him.As he span around, he felt a sharp pain in his inner leg, as if someone had tried to kick him in the balls but missed. Then something smashed on the back of his head. Shards of glass framed his vision as Brad raced past him. Radke lept into action, chasing down the corridor behind him. They were still no more than 7 yards from the bathroom door when Radke came up behind Brad and tackled him to the ground, using his whole bodyweight to knock him over. They fought for a few seconds before Radke managed to get on top and sit on Brad's back, his weight pinning him down and winding him."Don't-" Radke grabbed at the legs of the man squirming underneath him, "do that", he unhooked a pair of handcuffs from his belt, "ever", he snapped one cuff shut round Brad's ankle, "ever", he caught Brad's other leg as it swung at him, "EVER again." The second cuff let out a satisfying click as it locked."I'm sorry, I shouldn't have snapped at you like that." Ronnie looked at Brad with genuine earnest as he unskrewed the cap of the witch-hazel cream. Brad held out his newly handcuffed wrists as they sat facing one another on the sofa, a band of red sores and blisters marking where the rope had been."This is going to sting a bit." Ronnie held the younger man's hand in his own as he smeared witch-hazel over the rash. He felt Brad's grip tighten and heard him inhale sharply. Ronnie had warned him, but now didn't really feel like time for an 'I told u so'. As he continued treating the wound he felt Brad relax again slightly, although from his breathing he was clearly still in pain. They sat in silence for a few more minutes as Radke tended to Brad's injuries, but eventually the discomfort got too much."I'm sorry as well. I shouldn't have done that. I didn't realise I'd cut your head""It's okay, I'm more worried about you, the glass ended up in your hands more than anywhere else.""I know, but it was stupid anyway." Brad stared down at his parms, which were littered with cuts, each one still ringed with red from the alcohol used to clean it. It had been a stupid idea. There was no way he could have escaped like that. No, it was better to just sit tight and wait for Tina or the police to show up. Maybe both? Both would be good. And he did feel bad about cutting Ronnie, he'd been nothing but kind the whole time. Except from, well, the obvious..."I do think though, Brad", Ronnie raised an eyebrow coyly, "that you owe me now."Oh god. Oh god. This was what he'd feared the whole time- Brad knew it'd only be so long before things went south. He just hadn't expected it to be this soon...A wide grin stretched across Radke's face. "I was thinking... Mean Girls. No-one ever wants to watch it with me"Brad let out a sigh of relief. All Radke wanted to do was watch a movie. That was it. Easy."Hell yeah! I fucking love Mean Girls. That bit where Kevin G starts singing? Comedy genius. A cinematic masterpiece-""Great." Radke stood up and paced over to the TV opposite them, bending over to pull a boxset from one of the draws, before switching on the TV and booting up his PS5. After he'd put in the disk and the menu began to loop, he threw the remote at Brad and disappeared up the stairs.10 minutes later, he returned with a bowl of popcorn and a few blankets.Once they'd got comfortable on the sofa, he turned down the lights with the dimmer switch behind him, and the opening credits began to play.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Ronnie glanced down as the end credits rolled. Slumped agains his side was Brad, the gentle wheezing of his breathe mading it clear that he was sound asleep. Ronnie closed his eyes, savouring the moment. It'd been too long since he'd felt this level of human contact. Then he felt a strange sinking in his chest. He was sat next to another person. With their own lungs and liver and heart and nervous system and thoughts and feelings and... life. And it'd be so easy to snuff it out. All it would take was a pillow over his face... And quite a bit of pressure. But still. It felt strange to have another person's life be so dependent on his good will. For them to be so vulnerable. It felt... special?Radke shook his head, as if he was trying to dislodge his thoughts. The glare from the TV blinding him slightly as he looked around. It was late. He should get to bed. But he was tired. And the sofa was warm. Making sure not to disturb Brad, he pulled the blanket further over his legs and closed his eyes. Maybe if he just stayed there for a few more minutes..."GOOD MORNING!"Huh? Brad groaned. He had no idea what time it was, but it was too early."I made breakfast!"Brad cracked his eyes open, trying to understand what was going on. He was on the sofa... He was wearing the same clothes from yesterday but he was wrapped in a blanket so he couldn't be sure. He tried to make out the pattern... It was a wolf? And there was some writting but his eyes were still a little too blurry to make it out."Is this a Falling In Reverse blanket?" Brad croaked out."Yeah. We ordered a load to sell as merch but I wasn't happy with how they turned out so I just have like 500 in storage. Anyway. Breakfast."The sofa sank slightly as Ronnie sat down next to Brad. He placed a tray on the coffee table infront of them. Without thinking, he wrapped his arms round Brad and pulled him up from where he had been lying."Don't touch me." Brad spat the words at him, startled.Radke shuffled back, realising he'd overstepped a little. He watched Brad's face, waiting for his expression to soften, the last thing he wanted to do was antagonize him...But his face didn't move. He seemed frozen in a constant stage of disgust."So I made omelette. It's plain because I wasn't sure how you like your omelettes, I know people can be really particular.""You know they're coming for me, right? Everyone knows where I last was, it's only a matter of time before the FBI show up at your door."Ronnie could tell this was meant to be some big cutting comment but he couldn't help but let out a snide laugh. The sheer confidence this guy had. It took some serious nerve to be that self assured. He wasn't right, but by god was he confidently wrong."Why are you laughing? Tina will be out looking for me right now.""She isn't.""How would you know."Radke contemplated for a minute. He really didn't want to do this but right now it seemed like his best option."Lemme show you something." He threw Brad over his shoulder again in a fireman's lift. As he carried him out the basement he did his best to ignore Brad's whining and squirming. Thank god he'd left the bandcuffs on his wrists and ankles, it was the only thing preventing Brad from properly swinging at him...Eventually, Radke reached the computer room, praying that Brad's yelling would subside once he'd been put now. Using his spare hand, he opened the door and paced over to his setup. He slid Brad off his shoulder, leaving him stood near one of his monitors. "Look, I wasn't gonna show you this... but since you asked..." Radke powered up his second PC. Brad wasn't entirely sure why Ronnie needed 2 PCs, but it was probably something to do with the 6 monitors he had set up. 6 was definitely excessive. No-one ever needed more than 5 monitors max. Maybe he was just really into symmetry? No, there was no point really trying to rationalise it, this was definitely one of those 'more money than sense' things. Ronnie dropped into the gaming chair at his desk. All six screens flashed on as the system booted up. Radke opened up firefox, then youtube. Brad held his breath as Ronnie began to search up his channel name, praying for a sign. He wasn't sure what kind of sign, but anything would do. Even just a hint that they were looking for him...He had typed in 'Brad taste in Music' but something was off with the search results. Brad squinted at the nearest screen trying to get a good look at it..."Spaceashes taste in music!?!?!? SPACEASHES. TASTE. IN. MUSIC.??? I'VE BEEN GONE LIKE 3 DAY???""It, uh, gets worse... I said you were better off not knowing. Believe me now?" Radke reached for his second mouse and clicked onto Brad's channel page. There were no new videos. But there was a community post.'Hey chat, unfortunately Brad is no longer able to post. However I, Spaceashes, have full control over the channel and will still be posting reaction content. There's still a few Brad videos that I've got left to post, but once those are out it'll be all me from then on. Sorry for the switch up in content, but we really wanted to keep the channel going.p.s. join me on tuesday's livestream where I'll be reacting to all of 3OH!3's discography.p.p.s Tina is still going to be around, as we just got engaged :)'That couldn't be right... Brad leaned in closer to the screen, trying to make sure he'd read it right."Posted 2 days ago?? How could they move on so fast?? HEY HEY WAIT! SPACEASHES STOLE MY GIRL!! MY FIANCE!! What the fuck. That's.. That's crazy...""I said I didn't want to do this." Ronnie span round in his chair to face Brad, barely hesitating to jump up as soon as he realised how much the younger man was swaying. Just as he got close enough, Brad collapsed into his arms. Radke just stood there, supporting his weight, as the streamer began to shake. An odd damp feeling began to spread across Radke's shoulder... Brad was sobbing? It was strange to think about. Someone Radke had obsessed over for so long, someone who he'd devoted thousands of hours of his life to, someone who he'd schemed and plotted and waited months to meet... And here he was, crying in his arms.They just stood there for a White, till eventually Brad's sniffling subsided."Can I use the bathroom? Just to clean myself up.Radke crouched down and pulled out a little key from his coinpocket. Without a second thought he unlocked the handcuffs around Brad's ankles and removed them before standing back up."The bathroom is the 3rd door on the right."He watches as Brad walked out the room. It was funny. If he'd asked the same thing an hour earlier, there was no way in hell Radke would have trusted him to go alone. But he seemed sufficiently broken now. There wasn't much chance of him bothering to pull the same escape plan bullshit as last time. As soon as he heard the bathroom door lock, Ronnie paced back over to his desk.Radke pulled a key from his back pocket and turned it in one of the draws. He slid it open and picked his nokia out of the tangle of wires. The model (7610) was so old he didn't need to worry about GPS. He opened up the messages, taking a second to read the only one sent from Brad's SIM."I'm really sorry Tina. I'm so sorry. I don't want you to see me like this and I don't want you lumped with the medical bills. I can't tell you where, but I'm in hospital right now. Don't worry about me, look after yourself, I just got in a bit of an accident. I love you too much to get you involved. Move on."It wasn't perfect, but it didn't have to be. It sounded delirious enough to be convincing. I mean obviously it had worked. All he'd really wanted to do was throw everyone off the scent for a while. Just to prevent any big searches or anything. And the senders location couldn't be tracked except from through the phonemast the message went through, but that couldn't be used in court. So it wasn't like he was taking a risk sending the text. He just hadn't expected it to work that well?He read the message one last time before selecting delete, then delete from SIM.