Promises, Promises Who: Cody and Tommy Setting: Afternoon; lakeside
It wasn’t a bad day so Tommy decided it was high time to take his practice drum pad, some sticks, and his phone out to the lakeside. He’d been meaning to get out there for a while now for practice but it never seemed to happen, not when he had his kit so perfectly set up in his room back at the spa. But today, he was determined. With his pad and sticks tucked under his left arm and his right hand outstretched with his phone in it, he beamed into the front camera. “On my way to the lake, guys, for some practice. Maybe I’ll post another video if I find a new beat or something. Wish me luck!”
Signing off, he shifted his items and began to load the short video up on Instagram with a few strategic hashtags and a wave emoji. With that video off into cyberspace, he kicked up his pace a little and found his way lakeside. It didn’t take him long to get settled with his pad and sticks and launch into his first warm up.
The thing was, Cody hadn’t stopped watching the stuff about his band. He sometimes found fans that were still supportive, still reaching to him, remembering he was in rehab and ‘recovering’. In his mind, the band wasn’t dead. He just needed all of the war and such to blow over, then he’d back. Better than ever. He had new music, things he’d scribbled in his notebook. It wasn’t doing much to help the hangover he was fighting though. The sunglasses were helping with that. And the walk. The last thing he needed to do was show up at the Retreat hung over. He could sneak in easily, but he couldn’t hide that he’d been far from clean the night before.
He was stumbling home from a trailer where he’d met a lovely woman, and then her best friend, and all in all it had been a great night. They were kind of fans and he’d thanked them thoroughly. The video came up on his walk out of there, Tommy’s face, grinning at him, and...somewhere familiar. He’d been there before, but he wasn’t sure when. Even with that, he stopped, feet away from the lakeside, seeing an all too familiar figure.
To the credit of his own mental health and sanity, which was something he didn’t often think about, Tommy had taken the plunge a few months ago and blocked Cody from his social channels. It was one of the hardest decisions of his life, like cutting that last final string attached between him and his once best friend. He tried not to let his mind wander back to the band while he worked but it was hard, thinking of the times he’d practice drumming on Cody’s arm or back or head until he’d get shoved away. It was funny then. Now the memory just sucked.
With a sigh, he let his sticks stop on the pad, deciding he needed to stretch in order to really get this going. Arms up above his head, he lengthened his spine and turned to the left. And felt the wind leave his lungs like he’d been punched in the gut.
That couldn’t be him. That seriously couldn’t be him. What the actual fuck>/i> was he doing here? Speechless, he just gaped at the form near him, seeing Cody all over that person like a plague. He was dripping in Cody and it made Tommy sick to his stomach to see that sight again after going so long without it.
Either the hangover was playing tricks on his mind or he was staring at Tommy. The thing was, he didn’t quite look like the Tommy Cody prefered to remember. His Tommy was the one behind the drums, the one he was drunk with, his head in his lap while they shared a blunt and went through song ideas and talked about girls. His Tommy was the one he knew inside and out, how he slept, how he ate. Hell, Cody probably knew more about Tommy’s sex life than anyone should, but that was before he’d gone to the retreat, before he’d been sent away. He hadn’t heard from Tommy since. “You know, you’re face is gonna get stuck like that.”
It sounded just like him. How was he even here? Cody was supposed to be in rehab, not out here by a lake dicking around. Tommy normally would have had some sort of sarcastic quip to answer Cody with, but all that came out of his mouth was a baffled, “What the fuck are you doing here?”
“Technically a better question for you,” Cody said. “You’re supposed to be in L.A. right?” That was where he’d left Tommy at least.
“No, I’m not supposed to be in L.A. There’s a war happening, Eddy. I’m not staying in a port town. And it’s not a better question! You’re supposed to be in rehab!” Frustration kicking in, Tommy reached for his practice pad and sticks then stood. His legs felt like they should move, start walking far, far away from this situation but his brain wouldn’t fire the order to go.
“Cody,” he corrected out of habit. “And I know there’s a war going on. I’m in rehab, not a cave.” Cody stepped closer to keep Tommy from moving away from him. God he’d missed Tommy. “Technically I am still in rehab. I mean, not this second, but it’s where I was headed back to.”
Tommy about screamed when he corrected him. He wanted to hurl a drumstick at Eddy’s face. He wanted to launch across this few yards and strangle him. To keep himself from doing just that, he ran a ragged hand through his hair instead and let out a shaky breath. “Being in rehab doesn’t mean you get to go dick around at a lake, Eddy.”
“What if it’s good for me? Fresh mountain air and all that, Thomas?” Cody asked, moving closer still, smile pulling at the corner of his lips. “What are you doing here? Really? Looking for me? You could have called.”
“Don’t call me Thomas.” Of course he would think he was looking for him. Tommy couldn’t do anything with it having to deal with Eddy somehow. He was so not ready for this to be happening. “No,” He said simply, seriously considering high-tailing it out of here and texting the other guys. It felt like he was seeing a ghost. And of course the smile on Cody’s face made him look more like Eddy and less like an asshat and it hurt Tommy. “I moved here. With the parents. To the spa. Because, you know, war.” He thought about saying phones worked two ways but instead he just stared at Cody, stuck in that spot. “You don’t look like fresh mountain air is doing a whole hell of a lot for you. You look hungover. Please don’t tell me you’re both hungover and in rehab…”
“Don’t call me Eddy,” Cody countered, but shrugged, looking away, out at the water. “You came to the spa? That’s not exactly safe, bro.” Not like it claimed to be. The whole place was holding on by a thread, but maybe Tommy was right. Maybe it was safer. “I was in rehab because I OD’d, not because I’m an addict.”
“I am not calling you ‘Cody’, you asshat…” He’d been over this and over this with Eddy. How funny that this conversation seemed to have reverted back to their typical selves. Tommy tried to shake himself out of that familiarity and Cody’s next sentence actually helped. “Are you fucking serious right now?! You are in rehab because you’re an addict who OD’d. Those two things aren’t inseparable, Eddy.”
“I think I’d rather be asshat. Eddy’s a fucking loser.” Cody tucked his hands into his pockets. “I’m not. I don’t talk like those guys. They all need a fix. I don’t need a fix, I need to not be a dumbass. Which, I’ve learned. Quite proud of that actually.”
Tommy just blinked. There was so much he wanted to say, but it had all been said before and he’d promised himself that when they separated, he wouldn’t keep doing this to himself. But here he was, right back to where he’d been before. Inhaling slowly, he decided to focus on the part of this conversation that he might have a chance to win. And the name thing was not it. “Yeah? Doesn’t seem like it to me. You don’t get to be hungover in rehab. It’s, like, super fucking counterintuitive.”
“Rehab is super fucking counterintuitive.” Cody shook his head but that made him wince a little. He turned to Tommy instead. “Come on, T. It’s not like you wanted me to be sober. Just not fuck up again. Which is what almost killed me. But I’m better.”
“I am not hearing this…” Tommy groaned, running his hand down his face. He also was not going to do this. He was not going to walk Cody back to his rehab center. He didn’t care, he didn’t care, he didn’t care… “How are you better?”
“You worry too much,” Cody said, one hand going out to grab at Tommy’s. “I’m fine. I’m better. I’m not so...self destructive.” Which was a total lie, but he was less physically so. “Look!” He reached into his back pocket and pulled out the folded up notebook, a tiny moleskin like he’d always had and handed it over. “New music, even.”
He thought about ripping his hand away from Cody and was a half-step from actually doing it, but then the notebook surfaced and he stared at it dumbly. Don’t do it. Don’t look at it. Don’t do it, Tommy… His right hand moved without permission, grabbing the worn notebook and flipping it open. “You almost killed yourself. There is no such thing as worrying too much.” The lyrics were good, like always, and part of Tommy hated that his torture served his music so well. Only a little part, though, because the larger part of Tommy wanted to play drums for this songs. Like, really really bad.
He couldn’t act on this. He couldn’t say anything about this right now. They weren’t a band anymore. Eddy’s destructive streak had run them straight into the ground and Tommy wasn’t going back to that. No way, no how. Handing him the notebook back, he turned and started a few steps away from him. “...Where is the rehab center?”
“By accident. You know I don’t want to die. I’m having too much fun.” Cody didn’t hesitate in inching closer, chin hooked over Tommy’s shoulder while he looked at the notebook. He could tell his friend liked it, that he knew it was good. That was the thing, the more miserable Cody was, the better his music was. Happiness just wasn’t in the cards for him. “Over that way,” he said, but reached out for Tommy again, not wanting him to get away. “Come on, what do you think? You aren’t even going to tell me?”
Tommy stiffened. “I’m not doing this with you, Eddy. You didn’t just hurt yourself back then, dude. You don’t get to just be here and throw new songs in my face and expect me to jump at them. It’s not gonna work like that.” He glanced back over at Cody over his shoulder and shook his head. “I’m taking you back to the rehab center.” And then he was going to probably drown this whole interaction away at the bar because this was too fucking surreal for him to deal with sober.
“Isn’t this the whole point of that place? That we can do this again?” Cody said, wanting the closeness with his friend, trying not to get angry that he kept pulling away. “I’m going back, promise. Let’s do this first, then you can walk me to the spot I snuck out of and see to it that I’m going back.”
He groaned audibly, something just as frustrated as he felt. “Do what? We’re not doing anything!” He was not getting involved in this again. “You just want to hear me say that I think the songs are good when you know fucking well enough they’re good. They’re always good.” His hand gripped the drum sticks again. “No, I’m walking your ass back to rehab now. Go.” Of course he’d snuck out of rehab. Tommy knew he hadn’t actually changed.
“You really think so?” Cody might have been full of confidence, but he put all his faith in what others thought, especially when it came to his music. He reached for Tommy, arm around his waist and pulled him close. “I knew you’d like them. I meant to send them to you, but this is much better.” He did start walking back towards the center though, pulling Tommy with him.
“Eddy…” Tommy said in a warning tone and shook his head, slipping out of his hold. Back on tour, back when they were in a band, back when they were actually best friends, Tommy would have shoved Cody and made some sort of joke, but ultimately would have let him tug him along. Now, though, it was not happening. “C’mon, you know the songs are good. Don’t do that, do act all surprised.” He was glad Cody hadn’t sent him the songs, though, because that email would have gone straight in the trash...thanks to the auto filter he’d set up. But now, he was going to be thinking about these damn songs all day. Fucking Eddy.
“Hey,” Cody stopped, looking at Tommy. “What? I thought...c’mon, man.” He didn’t want to fight with Tommy. Tommy was his lifeline. “I don’t know they’re good. I wrote a whole album of great songs and the label said it was shit. So I’m always surprised.”
“You thought what, Eddy? You thought you’d see me again and that I’d forget all the shit you did?” Tommy snapped, hating a part of himself for doing it. But he’d burned that bridge long ago and he wasn’t equipped emotionally or physically to rebuild it right now. “You fucked up, man, and that shit just doesn’t go away because I’m here now.” Which was a huge problem. He should have vetted this place more.
Cody frowned, shaking his head. “I did, but I’m going to make it better. We’re going to come back even better than ever. What about all the good times?” he asked. He knew his band thought he was an idiot, but they’d been worried that day at the hospital. Even Tommy. Sure, he’d been mad about the Melanie thing, but that was ages ago.
This was why he didn’t want to do this. Cody didn’t even fucking realize how screwed up this whole situation was, how utterly wrong he’d been. He said he did, but Tommy didn’t think it was actually registering. To him, it sounded like regurgitating whatever he’d heard in rehab with a slight spin thanks to seeing Tommy again. He kept walking, tucking his free hand into his pocket so he didn’t feel so skittish, though he did feel his fingers twitching around the drumsticks in his other hand. “It’s gonna take a lot to fix what happened. Like a lot.” Even as he spoke, though, he didn’t look at Cody again.
“Alright,” Cody said, hurrying up to be close to Tommy. “What’s a lot? I mean, a hit album is going to be plenty. The label knows we make them money, so they’ll be on board.” It wasn’t like they had souls anyway. “The fans miss us. We just have to give them something good.”
“God, Eddy, that’s the fucking problem! It’s more than the music alone!” Tommy snapped again, whirling on Cody to glare at him. “Do you even understand what you did to us? We were on top, Eddy. We were kings and you fucked it up! Do you know how easily bands get forgotten? There are a million bands out there, millions of people just as talented as us. We could be done. We could have ruined our chance. There might never be another album for us and, even if there is, it might never be as popular as the others. The fans miss us because I literally spend hours every day answering every single comment on all of our channels. Because I want them to keep loving us. But we’ve already lost so many of them…”
When Tommy finally ran out of breath, he turned around and faced his back to Cody so he could try and compose himself. Exhaling shakily, he ran his free hand through his hair again and over his face once more in one movement.
Cody watched his best friend then moved closer, wrapping an arm around his waist to hug him. “I promise, we will be back on top. I screwed up, but I won’t again. It’s me, Tommy. You know I can do it. I’ve done it before.”
Tommy didn’t make a move to hug Cody back like he would have before. Cody had royally fucked up and Tommy was already exhausted from trying to explain to him all the reasons he’d royally fucked up. It was a part of his past that he hadn’t been ready to rehash today and he didn’t think he was getting through to Cody right now. The long string of fuck-ups Cody had put them through had been the most selfish acts Tommy had ever seen and he was just plain tired of backing that. So, instead of answering, he just moved away from the hug after a too-long moment and started back in the direction they’d been walking, toward the rehab center.
He really needed to find out where he could get some weed in this town.
This time, Cody didn’t make a move to follow. Not when Tommy shunned him like that. “I’m gonna prove it to you T,” he called out, then took a step back where he’d come from. There was no rush to get back yet.
He hated himself for it, but he actually looked back over his shoulder at Cody when he spoke. He hadn’t wanted to, but the reflex had been automatic. He knew this action from years spent together and he could tell Cody wasn’t coming back with him, and Tommy didn’t have enough fight in him to force Cody back to rehab right now. Years ago, he abso-fucking-lutely would have made sure Cody was somewhere safe. But Cody wasn’t his responsibility anymore. Still, the words spilled from his mouth before he could stop them. “...I hope so.” Immediately, Tommy turned and forced himself to put one foot in front of the other on his way back to the spa.