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Chapter 8 - Close to The Flame

“Mick?”

A small voice was calling him.

“Mick?” A little louder.

At the third try, Mick shifted, and woke up. Joey was calling out for him, and he’d been asleep. He mentally kicked himself.

Suddenly, he was wide awake. Standing up, he moved over to the couch Joey lay huddled up on. He knelt down and stroked the side of Joey’s face. He seemed better for the sleep and fluids.

“Hey baby.” He leaned forward to kiss Joey’s forehead softly.

“Where are we?”

“I dunno. Somewhere on the road to Kansas City”

Joey frowned. “What about the gig?”

“Shawn played. We let you sleep.”

It wasn’t what Joey wanted to hear.

“I told you I wanted to play!”

"I know, sweetheart, but you couldn't. You were so weak."

Joey could see Mick was pleading for him to understand, and he melted under the knowledge that Mick really did care for him. He reached out for Mick's hand, and pulled gently. Mick understood. Holding Joey carefully, he slid himself onto the couch. Joey settled next to him, still clutching his hand. He was so tired, like he'd never have the energy to walk again. Having Mick holding him rested his mind, and he closed his eyes again.

*

Mick was awake when they drove into Kansas City. The bus seemed eerily quiet; it was far too early for anyone else to be out of bed. Joey was curled up on his chest, deeply asleep. Idly stroking Joey's hair, Mick lay back, watching the darkness weaken into light. He hoped today would be different. That the comatose-like sleep Joey was experiencing would fix everything; he'd wake up well and healthy and bounce back into life like the hyperactive kid he normally was. But hope was but hope afterall; a belief, not a tangible thing. No matter how much Mick wished for Joey to be better, wishing couldn't make it so.

And so it was that Joey awoke several hours later with the familiar feeling of nausea haunting him.

He thought that maybe if he didn't open his eyes, he could go back to sleep and wake up later without feeling sick. But the reality was that he'd been feeling sick almost constantly over the last three days, and it was a bit much to expect it to go away with a bit of sleep. He felt Mick's arms tighten around him and heard a voice whisper in his ear.

"You slept like you were dead. I'm glad to see you're back."

Joey smiled. Mick seemed to have a way of making him feel better, despite the sickness in his stomach. Lips softly kissed him and he opened his eyes, tilting his head back so he could see Mick.

The bigger man seemed to know as he looked at Joey that he still wasn't feeling well. He didn't
say anything, just sighed and looked somewhat pensive. Joey curled up again, and Mick resumed stroking his hair. He felt so hopeless.

Sounds of bandmates stumbling out of bed were heard from below, and Mick was glad Joey was already awake, because that commotion would have done it. Someone tripped over a bag and another person stood on a half empty beer can. Chris came upstairs to rescue a shirt, and stopped for a minute to sit on the table by the couch. He took in Joey, and Mick saw the disappointment register on his face. He obviously wasn't the only one hoping for a miraculous recovery.

"How ya doing, Joe?" Chris asked.

"Mma sick," Joey mumbled, barely opening his mouth. He didn't want to move, and moving including talking. He appreciated Chris coming to see him, but at the same time, he wasn't really in the mood for visitors.

Mick shrugged at Chris. "Can Shawn play again today?"

Chris nodded. "They went over a few more songs last night. Gonna add a couple."

Joey knew he wasn't capable of drumming, but still felt a small glimmer of something like jealousy. HE was the drummer, not Shawn; there was a reason he was behind the kit and not just a percussionist banging a few barrels. Laying sick on a couch somewhere while someone else sat in for him wasn't his idea of fun. He cursed whatever it was that was making him ill.

Chris and Mick discussed a few more small things, and the percussionist got back up to head downstairs again. The noise was getting louder and it seemed like there was a fight brewing over the last bagel. Chris prepared to enter the fray with a mock-stern look at Mick, and the guitarist laughed as the other man headed down the stairs.

Joey felt Mick laugh, and it was almost infectious. He smiled in spite of himself, despite not knowing what he was laughing about. It felt like a long time since he'd been able to laugh and joke around, and it was simple things like that which he missed most. And food.

He could hear Mick's heart beating as he lay there, and quietly he eased his arm up to rest a hand over the beat. He pressed gently, and felt Mick's chest rise into his palm. His eyes concentrated on his hand, watching it move with the rhythm of Mick's breathing. A hand was stroking his forehead, and he started to feel sleepy again.

Mick brought his other hand up to rest on Joey's, marvelling at the size difference. Joey's hand was so small and delicate compared to his, and he squeezed it gently, taking it within his own. He could feel Joey starting to relax and wondered if he was falling asleep again. Looking down, he could see his eyes were closed.

Just a minute later they jerked open again as something broke downstairs. Yelling promptly ensued, and Mick sighed. “It's ok Joe, go back to sleep.”

But sleep would prove impossible, as the yelling increased. Mick couldn't quite make out who it was, but he vowed to find out and deliver an ass-kicking.

Mick promptly forgot about the arguing downstairs as Joey squirmed in his arms and tried to sit up. He was still quite weak and only made it halfway before heading back down again. Mick caught him, and sat him up gently. Joey lay his head against Mick's as he fought the dizziness.

“Do you feel sick?” Mick asked him.

One look at Joey's face was all he needed to know. The dizziness was doing something to his stomach, and it wasn't good. Mick helped him stand up as he made for the bathroom. The room spun, but he was quite familiar with the path now and he got there in time.

He held onto the bathroom wall as his stomach heaved, and felt Mick behind him, rubbing his back. Whatever good the IV had done last night was quickly undone as Joey threw up whatever was left in his stomach. Mick wiped his face tenderly after he stopped vomiting, and held him until he stopped shaking. A knock on the door disturbed them as a voice asked if everything was ok. Chris.

Mick opened the door, letting Chris know silently it wasn't ok. He picked Joey up softly and carried him back to the couch, past several other members who had come up as well.

“Way to go guys, for being dicks. You're really helping,” Mick scolded. He knew he was being irrational, that Joey would have thrown up anyway. But he was so tired of holding Joey as he threw up and watching him suffer that he was short to the point of temper.

The others stood in silence as Mick set Joey on the couch. The small man immediately turned on his side and curled up, and Mick lay a blanket over him. He was asleep in seconds.

Mick sat down on the small table in front of the couch, and the rest of the guys sat down as well. Corey, Jim and Paul came up from where they had been eating downstairs and found themselves a place. It seemed a band conference was in order.

Mick rested his head on his hands.

“Joey needs to go home. He can't stay here like this. He's just getting worse.”

Chris nodded slowly, Corey and Shawn just looked downcast, and the others either stared at Joey in sympathy or studied their hands.

“What do we do? Do we cancel, or do we carry on with Shawn?” Craig piped up.

Chris looked at Mick. “I don't think Mick is finished.”

Seven heads turned to Mick. “What's up?” Corey asked.

Mick swallowed. This was one of the hardest things he'd ever had to do, and he wasn't looking forward to it.

“I want to go back with Joey.”

Silence.

They all looked horror-struck, apart from Chris, who seemed to have guessed a while ago that it would come down to this.

“I’m sorry,” Mick said. “But this is something I need to do.”

Paul seemed to find his voice. “Just what the fuck is going on with you and Joey anyway?”

Mick stared at him. “What do you fucking reckon, you idiot?”

Paul didn't know how to respond.

“So, we are going to have to cancel?” Sid asked, nearly whispering.

“Or find another guitar player,” Jim said.

“I dunno about the rest of you, but Slipknot isn't Slipknot without all of us. I'm not going on with a replacement,” Corey stated bluntly. The others all seemed to agree.

“So we're going home then,” Shawn said, looking somewhat apprehensive.


“Look, for all we know, Joey will be back on his feet in a week. Maybe we only have to cancel a few dates,” Paul pointed out. Mick didn't seem so sure.

“Joey's fucked. He can barely walk. He spends the whole day either throwing up or sleeping. I think it might take more than a week for him to recover.”

“Can't we just take it day by day?” Jim asked.

Shawn shook his head. “If we are going to cancel some dates, we have to let them all know at once. We can't just phone up in the morning and tell 'em we ain't coming.”

“We playing tonight, right?” Paul asked.

Shawn nodded. “I'll drum. But we can't carry on like this.”

“So, who gets to tell Cory then?” Sid asked.

No one said anything. Mick sighed. “I will. It's my problem, not yours.”
Silence descended on the bus.

Mick moved over the couch and sat on the edge, checking on Joey. He was fast asleep, his face pale and drawn. Mick brushed a stray hair off his forehead, noting that he had a fever again. Ignoring the others, he stood up to head to the bathroom for a cold washcloth. His bandmates watched quietly as he gently wiped Joey's face, and settled the cloth on his forehead.

Corey watched with an odd mixture of fascination and curiosity. He'd always thought Joey was quite effeminate, and wasn't surprised at all that he went for guys. Mick, on the other hand... now that was out of left field. He had a hundred questions, none of them he would ever ask. It wasn't his place, even though the desire to know burned inside him. He decided he would be happy for them.

Paul was struggling slightly. He'd never considered himself a bigot or anti-homosexuality, but he'd also thought it would be the last thing to happen in the Slipknot camp. Like Corey, he'd had questions about Joey, and was sure he'd once seen the little drummer head off with a guy at an after-show party, but hell, they could been doing anything. So he'd put it out of his mind.
Now, the evidence was right in front of them. And Mick seemed pretty happy to ignore them, and go about tending to Joey.

On the whole, the rest of Slipknot were responding as many people do at car crashes. They couldn't look away. Shawn had been wondering why Mick had taken it upon himself to take care of Joey, and now he knew. He also wondered what else they had been doing. Sid was staring with unashamed interest; James with some confusion. Mick had never indicated to him at all that he leaned both ways, and since James thought he and Mick got on pretty well, he was slightly irked.
Mick continued to ignore them, and slowly they got the message. One by one they headed downstairs, until only Chris was left. He got Mick some water bottles from the kitchen and sat down on the empty spot on the table.

“He's gonna be ok, Mick,” Chris said softly.

Mick looked up from where he was caressing Joey's face. “Sometimes I think he'll never get better. And it's only been 3 days.”

“Check him straight into a hospital when we get home. They'll find out what's wrong. He'll be on the road to recovery before you know it.”

Mick nodded. The idea of Joey finally getting some decent medical care was a bright spot in the darkness. He knew hospitals couldn't fix everything, but they were better than the odd medic and a pack of Panadol.

“I just want him to be back to normal. I swear, he's lost about 20 pounds already,” Mick said, speaking to Chris but looking at Joey. Mick would have barely noticed if he'd lost 20 pounds, but the same off Joey was a significant amount. He hadn't had anything proper to eat in days, and he could barely keep water down. He looked like a skeleton. Mick ran his hand down his chest and body and felt the bony protuberances that dug into his hand.

“Do you want me to get him something to eat?” Chris asked. “I can get the bus driver to stop.”
Mick shook his head. “I don't want to wake him up. And I think he'll just end up throwing it up. But thanks anyway.” He smiled. “You've really been the only one who's understood this whole time. Heck, the rest of 'em all looked freaked to hell before.”

Chris laughed. “It'll take em a few days to get used to it. But they'll get there. Paul'll be the hardest to convince I think.” He grew serious. “Mick, honestly? I love you with Joey. I said to him a few days ago that I've never seen you act like you have been with him before. I can tell you're crazy about him. And he loves you.”

Mick looked at him. “You think so?”

Chris nodded. “You know what Joey's normally like. Even with his so-called girlfriends, he acts like he hardly knows them. When he's with you, you can see how much he thinks of you.”

Stroking Joey's face softly, Mick stared down at him and contemplated Chris's words. He knew he and Joey had something special going on, and he just hoped that it would last a long time, unlike some of his other relationships.

“Chris?”

“Yea?”

“Thanks, dude.”

Chris smiled. He'd said all he wanted to say. Standing up, he nodded a goodbye to Mick, and headed downstairs after the others.