Boys in The Band

**Chase's POV**
It's done. It's finished. Deep breaths, Chase. Come on, just say it.
I was sobbing, left curled up in a ball next to the TV, across form where Bob was sitting. He had a beer in his hand and the remote in the other. Thank God he wasn't drunk this time. My lip was split from a single blow, against his ring. He sat there watching TV. I had to lay there; he didn't want me to run away or call the cops.

He never did me wrong, it was my fault this time. I should have taken better care of his CDs. I shouldn't have turned off his music to call him for dinner.

There was red sauce smeared on the wall, along with broken drywall underneath. The floor was home to shards of plates and a pot of water. My arm was still burning from when he threw it at me. I'm a shit cook, I'm a shit girlfriend.
"Can I at least clean the wall?" I squeaked.
Bob raised his eyebrows and looked at me, "Of course, as long as you keep your hands off of the phone and stay where I can see you." He said in a baby voice.
I nodded my hand and pulled myself off of the floor. Fuck, my knees hurt. So do my wrists. I'm going to have so many fucking bruises tomorrow. I took a damp cloth from the sink and carefully cleaned around the cracked spot of drywall. I began sobbing, covering it up with a coughing fit. I didn't want him to think he had won.

I jumped as the phone rang. "Don't fucking touch it!" Bob hollered form the couch. I heard him answer the phone, "Yeah?..... Yeah, I'm not doing much right now.... I guess I could..... I yeah, we'll be a while, she's having a shower...."
I'm not having a shower, you stupid fuck. You just beat me.
"Yeah, okay. Well be there in 10.... Bye" He hung up the phone and lifted himself of of the couch. I looked away and continued in circular motions on the grey-blue wall. He hugged my waist from behind. Oh fuck, don't hit me, please. I flinched. "The boys want you to listen to us play, they want to know how they sound." He rested his chin on my shoulder, "Will you please compliment us so Gerard doesn't whine?"
I heard about Gerard before. He was the lead singer on Bob's band. He says he's the biggest diva in the bunch, but they were all divas as far as he was concerned.
"Sure. Whatever you say, baby."

I put the rag on the table without looking at him and sulked my way to the bathroom. I looked in the mirror. Oh fuck. My eyeliner was running, I had a cut in my lip, a black eye, and a bruised cheekbone. I took out my eyeliner, lipstick, and countless bottles of concealer. I wet a cloth in make-up remover and carefully scrubbed away at my train wreck, wincing every time I found a sore spot that would later become a bruise. I piled on the concealer, dabbing it on with my fingers, then applying more with a brush. The eyes wouldn't be hard to cover, I'd just have to slap on some raccoon eyes and go. Luckily, it was raining outside and a bit cooler, so I could wear my jacket to cover up the cuts and bruises on my body and wrists. I finally got my bruises hidden under a mask. I skillfully stroked on my dark eye shadow and eyeliner, finishing off the look with blood red lipstick to hide the bitch on my lip.

I walked out of the bathroom minutes later, Bob was waiting for me with my leather jacket. I almost smiled. He held it up for me and slipped it over my shoulders when I get my arms in. He grabbed me gently by the chin and looked at my face as I tried to leave out the door, "You look gorgeous, Chase. I love you." He smiled at me with loving eyes.
I hesitated for a moment, "I love you, too." I whispered.
He leaned in to kiss me, but I pushed him away, "Lipstick." I smirked.
He rolled his eyes and pressed his hand on my lower back, leading me out the door and down the block.

After about ten minutes, we arrived at the Way household. Their garage was open and everything was set up by a man with colored hair. Blue roots? That's really cute, actually. The two guys with their guitars were already having some kind of noise battle. the one's hair was very curly and hung like cocker spaniel ears. The second's hair was shaved at the sides and had a long fringe that he had died black hanging over his eyes. He was covered in tattoos. The bass guitarist was quietly sitting on the couch in a red scarf and black beanie.

So. This was the band.

Notes

Just thought of this plot while I was on painkillers.
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