FicWad

"Mike... Mike? Can you... come here for a second?"

Vic Fuentes stood in the bathroom of his tour bus, looking intently at the mirror, hands in his hair, a frown on his face.

He rubbed at a very small spot on the back of his head. What his fingertips met was very alarming. No... it can't be, he thought desperately. Not this! "Mike, get the fuck over here!"

The younger Fuentes appeared after several moments, looking severely pissed. "Vic, do you know what time it is?"

"Why?"

Mike looked as if he were going to explode. "It's two in the morning, fucking asshole! What the fuck are you doing?"

Vic's eyebrows furrowed together. He had completely lost track of time, completely consumed by his worry.

"Dude, sorry... I hadn't realized it was this late," he said. Mike scowled at him, then sighed.

"Okay, well, I'm here. What do you need?"

Vic gulped. "Can you... look at the back of my head? Come in the bathroom, there's better light..."

Mike stepped into the small space, confused and very cross. Yet as soon as Vic turned around to show him the back of his head, Mike's eyes nearly popped out of his face.

"Dude," he whispered, "You have, a..." He rubbed his eyes, blinked, and looked again. "Damn, bro. You have a fuckin' bald spot."

Vic wanted to die and melt into the floor. It was his worst fear come to life.

His hair had always been something to be proud of. And indeed, it was wonderful. His hair was long, soft, naturally curly yet very attractive when straightened, and of a rich chestnut brown color. It was one aspect of him that was perfect.

And now it was beginning to fall out of his head.

Letting out a small cry, the Mexican fell on his knees, arms raised to the heavens as if he were beseeching God, why would you do this to me? I'm trying to save kids' lives I mean the least you can do for me is let me have hair!

Mike silently watched as his brother wept in despair. "Why???" cried Vic. "WHY????" even louder.

Always the sensible, considerate one, Mike told Vic, "Shut up, you're gonna wake everyone up!"

Vic didn't seem to hear. "What's so good about picking up the pieces?" he asked no one in particular, eyes hollow and staring far away.

He was quoting songs now. The younger Fuentes was absolutely done with him.

Shaking his head, he tried another approach. "Hey..." he started awkwardly. "It's not your fault, little brother. You can't help what's happening to you." He patted Vic's shoulder.

Vic shook his head. "That's what makes it even scarier," he whispered.

Mike nodded and continued. "Well, if you're really desperate, you can try that hair implant surgery. Or spray-on hair. Or a wig. Maybe we can get Jaime to donate some of his hair. Or seriously dude you could just make a wig from the hair on your chest I mean-"

"But it wouldn't be the same," murmured the broken man.

Oh my fucking god, thought Mike. "Um. Here, then." He took his wide-lidded snapback hat off of his head. "You can borrow some of me and Tony's hats. And maybe steal some of Jaime's beanies, he never uses them anyway. We don't need to be a hair band." Mike didn't know that the words he was blabbering on about, off the top of his head, in the middle of the night, would change Pierce The Veil forever.

Mike placed the hat on Vic's head, which was bowed in defeat. As soon as Vic felt that hat, however, he opened his eyes, and looked at his younger brother in wonder. Mike continued talking, desperately fishing words from his tired mind.

"We can be a hat band."


this is the fruit of my procrastination, and pretending to work