WHEN YOU WAKE UP WITH THE WORDS 'Fuck you' and you go to bed with 'Go to hell, you piece of shit', then you know you have a problem. For the past few weeks, I had learned so many new words that I could now claim I was fluent in swearing.

'How's the tour?' My mom had asked me one of the times I had called her. Amazing, Ace is unhappy, Peter is unhappy, Paul is unhappy and Gene is totally pissed. Every day we hoped that it wouldn't start raining instruments during sound-check. That had almost happened too, only that the fight took place on stage before the show and the arguing was later in the dressing room. The four of them had locked inside and you could hear yelling and objects being thrown around. The room was a mess after that and they did play the show, but didn't speak a word to one another for a week.

If it wasn't the open and constant nagging at one another, there would be all the vague comments that I always found even worse. Especially when they happened to involve me.

Why do I think that you'll end your life in some gutter, Frehley?

Tell the He-She to shut his fucking mouth.

Gene, I thought you were a great ladies-man, but you put your tail between your legs when Lillian told you to fuck off.

Lillian graduated from high school and can at least spell.

I could never, ever forget how Peter, looked at Paul while they were doing their make-up and spat out with such hatred in his eyes.

Hey Paul, why don't you show Lillian how good you are at drawing dicks?

The singer had clenched his jaw, his hands balling up into fists at his side. I couldn't believe that he didn't strangle Peter on the spot. Instead, he grabbed the leather jacket that was part of his new outfit. Despite he was out of the room in a heartbeat, I could swear he intentionally avoided looking at me. The drummer's comment actually turned around and bit me in the ass, because I had wanted to ask Paul for a few tips on my art again and now I couldn't bring it up without making him feel uncomfortable. Embarrassing him was the last thing I wanted to do.

I had actually become better at drawing, considering I didn't have anything to do most of the time. I used to be around Ace and Peter a lot during nights and sleep late just like they did. But now, when both of them were so wound up in coke, booze and girls, I felt like I didn't belong there anymore.

These thoughts crossed my mind while I was dragging Ace down the corridor and into his own room. The lead guitarist was stumbling behind me, desperately trying to keep his balance, supporting himself to the walls. I couldn't recall the last time I had seen Ace sober on this tour. All of us seemed to have this unspoken agreement not to let the guitarist die from alcohol poisoning. However, now that Paul and Gene weren't exactly in good terms with him and Peter undoubtedly was in the same situation (or maybe worse) it was my turn to make sure he was safe and asleep in his room.

"Liiiilyyyy," he called out behind me, something that I would have found cute under different circumstances, "slow down, 'M not a marathon runner, dammit!"

I rolled my eyes, but actually stopped and waited for him to get closer. I looked him up and down. His shirt was undone and his long hair was messy, probably the result of some woman running her fingers through it only half an hour ago. Once Ace actually managed to crawl to me, he towered over my tinier frame.

"When'd you turn into such a kill-joy? You're acting like a girl version of Bill." He stated, reaching out and taking the end of my braid from my shoulder and putting it under my nose. "Now you look like him too, " he cackled.

I moved the pseudo-mustache away from my face and glared up at Ace, making him pout. "You're such a big baby when you're shitfaced." I couldn't help but point out.

"And you're such a mom when I am, " he noted as I pushed him a few feet down and inside his room. He was right about it though. From the very beginning of the tour, Bill and I have been trying to dissolve every single argument that had risen between the four of them before it had even started. Before I knew it, we were taking turns running from one room to another, trying to get the two teams to chill the hell out. And it was slowly starting to get on my nerves.

"Lil," Ace called, interrupting my thoughts. He moved from the doorframe he was supporting himself on and before I knew it, I was wrapped in his long arms and pressed to his tall body. "I love you so much," he hiccuped, glancing down at me with sleepy dark eyes. "You're so sweet and kind and—," his words were interrupted by another hiccup, "you're fun and shit. I just wanna make sure you know it."

"Thanks, Ace, " I gruffed, pulling at his arms to try to untighten the uncomfortably firm embrace. As if he felt I was going to sneak out, he slapped my hand away from his biceps and pressed his cheek against the top of my head. I sighed, accepting my fate and wrapped my arms around him too.

"Just don't puke over my head, okay, " I breathed out into his shoulder and he giggled.

"I only throw up in the mornings."

I laughed quietly, the sound muffled by his clothing. We stayed like that for a few minutes, until I felt Ace get sleepy again. When I tried to get away from his embrace, he let me go and allowed me to lead him to his bed. I didn't bother to throw the covers over him, it was too hot for them anyway. By the time I left the room, he was already asleep.

✵✵✵

A short and sweet part, because drunk Ace deserves all the hugs.