Vince and Mick lose their pet to poison.
A year before, the guitarist had gotten him a Chihuahua puppy as a present, since Vince said he wanted a pet and liked those… they named him Thirteen. Mick had every single photo they took with him, even the ones that didn't come out good. He'd make an album with those later. Back to what happened, Thirteen disappeared exactly three days prior to this, and came back sick. They took him to the vet, and did everything they could, but he'd just passed away.
The dark haired had never really been one to cry in public, but he did cry when they got home. Thirteen was like a child to them, it was so painful to lose him this way – poisoned by some heartless human who didn't understand it. Now he'd keep that inside and comfort Vince, the blond was more emotional than he was, and it could be even harder on him.
"Vince, we did all we could… at least he's free now, from pain… and nobody's going to hurt him." He whispered gently, wiping the blond's tears away. "Thirteen is still with us."
"I… I'm going to kill… the motherfucker… who poisoned him." Vince said between sobs, trying to catch his breath and stop crying. He'd really do that, if they found out who did it… which they probably wouldn't. It was terrible, this kind of crime. Someone would put poison in a piece of meat and hand it to dogs, and walk away unpunished even after they killed hundreds.
"Don't let it take over you… I want to kill the person who did this, too, but don't let anger consume you. Cry what you need to cry… and then rest. I'll be here for you."