"Yeah, why? What's up bro? It's like 11am. Why the hell are you calling me so early?"
"We, uh, we got some bad fucking news, bud. Nikki went to the hospital yesterday to get his broken nose fixed, and afterwards went back to his place and shot up a bunch of smack. He didn't make it, Tom. He overdosed, and nobody was there. He died."
Tommy started laughing. "No, really, what happened?"
Vince's voice grew hard. "He fucking died, Tommy. He overdosed on heroin and fucking died. Don't you even care? Our fucking bassist died. Your fucking boyfriend died."
The realization finally hit Tommy. Hard. "You motherfucking cunt, you're lying. Don't fucking joke about that shit. Nikki would never fucking leave me, you asshole."
"He fucking died, you ignorant piece of shit! How many times do I have to tell you the same fucking thing before you finally realize Nikki Sixx died on heroin?!"
"Oh shit. You're not lying, are you?" Tommy asked, his voice cracking.
He heard a sigh on the other line. "No, buddy, he's gone. He called me after he got back from the hospital and told me he was gonna be alright, but I decided to check up on him anyway. He was just laying in his bed with a needle in his arm, his skin almost blue. He was dead before I got there. I'm sorry Tommy."
"I gotta go," Tommy said, slamming the phone onto the base. Tears started pouring out of his eyes. They were uncontrollable. He walked over to the metal baseball bat on the floor and saw Nikki's blood spot. A pain ripped through his chest. How could he have hurt his best friend, his boyfriend, his lover? His legs took him to the bathroom, where a few spots of black hair dye still remained on the sink from when Nikki dyed his hair. He walked into the kitchen, where a broken eyeliner pencil sat near the counter. Nikki and Tommy had been sitting there, arguing, and Nikki threw it onto the ground and stepped on it like a used cigarette while Tommy was using it. More tears poured from Tommy's already swollen eyes, and more pain seared from his heart and radiated all over his body. His legs finally took him to the living room before he collapsed on the couch. A tiny stain remained from when Tommy was giving Nikki a hand job on the couch, and some of his cum had fallen onto the couch. They had smiled and laughed about it for the longest time. They wouldn't smile and laugh about it anymore.
After a few hours of gut-wrenching sobbing, Tommy was finally out of tears. Instead, the sky had erupted in pouring rain, interrupted momentarily with bursts of lighting and claps of thunder. Tommy felt so alone and afraid. For as long as he could remember, he had always been petrified of thunderstorms. Nikki had always been there to comfort him when one rolled around, and he always assured him that in time the storm would pass, and with it his fears. He always felt better wrapped up in Nikki's arms, and he would usually doze off, and by the time he woke up the storm would be over. That would not happen anymore. Instead, he sat, balled up on his bed, shivering, and wincing every time thunder clapped. Vince, Mick, and a bunch of other guys called him to see how he was doing. Surprisingly, even Heather tried to call, but he wouldn't answer anybody's calls. He felt too numb to do anything except shake and feel the pain of losing Nikki rip through his body.
Eventually, the thunderstorm passed, leaving drizzling rain, but his pain did not. It remained, and he finally cracked when Vince called for the 16th time.
"Hello?" Tommy answered, his voice weak, since he nearly lost it from sobbing.
"Tommy, buddy, are you alright? We were worried about you. Do you want me to come over?"
"No. I'm okay. I just need to be alone," Tommy whispered. Vince huffed, obviously not pleased with Tommy's answer.
"You can't be alone, Tommy. It won't be good for you. I'll come over later, then. Just to see how you are. I'll bring you some food, too. Kay? It's gonna be alright, buddy. See you soon." Vince hung up, so Tommy placed the phone back onto its base. He fell onto his side and covered himself in his sheets, and let the tears take over. It didn't take long before his whole body was stripped of its tears again, so he resorted to just heaving. That seemed to be a good alternative.
It only seemed like a few minutes until Vince came over with a steaming bowl of spaghetti. Impressive, considering he lived 20 minutes away from Tommy's place. Instantly Vince embraced Tommy, and he hugged him for a good minute before sitting back and wiping away the tears that started falling on his face again. "It's alright, buddy. It's alright."
"It's not fucking alright. He's gone. He's fucking gone," Tommy yelped between sobs. Vince hugged him again. "Good thing Mick smashed your TV. It's all over the fucking news."
Tommy cried into Vince's shoulder. "Yeah. I'm sorry I'm crying so much, bro."
Vince rubbed Tommy's back. "I've been crying all day. Mick even let a few tears out. Otherwise he's pissed that we don't have a bassist. But you know him, he doesn't show emotions at all. That's just Mick. But buddy, it's gonna pass soon. Well, I shouldn't say soon. But in a while, we'll be better. But right now, I'm gonna have you come stay with me, okay? Probably just until after the funeral. Oh, by the way, we're going to have to arrange that. It's going to be just a small funeral, for friends, co-workers, family. No fans. It'd be too rowdy. But, get some shit together. You're staying with me, 'kay?"
Tommy, too upset to argue, just nodded his head and grabbed a few shirts and a few leather pants along with his trusty black high tops. Vince led Tommy into his car, and they drove off to Vince's condo.