Ronnie smiled as he made his way backstage. Tonight's show had been a success. He sang perfectly on key, screamed in perfect pitch, and head-banged with all of his heart.

Bryan Monte Money, lead guitarist, was sitting on the tour bus with Max Green, bass player, and Robert Ortiz, drummer. Tonight was the night, the night Ronnie would be kicked out of the band. He was a drug addict, an accomplice in a murder, and was put on probation and couldn't leave Nevada. How were they supposed to go on tour without a lead singer? That's right, they couldn't.

"Hey guys! We hitting up any bars tonight?" Ronnie exclaimed as soon as he entered the bus.

"Ronnie, have a seat. We need to have a little chat," Max pleaded.

"Oh god, not another intervention. Jesus Christ, will you guys just get off my back? Don't worry about me, I'm fine," Ronnie tried.

"Radke, it's not an intervention. It's a band meeting. We are giving you two options. One, the band takes a break until you're off probation. Or two, you're out of the band and your free to do as you please. It's up to you," Robert offered.

"Well I don't want to be out of this band, it's my life," Ronnie replied. "So I guess the band is taking a break."

"Well, there's one condition with that choice. You need to get help with your drug addiction. It's tearing us apart," Max added.

"What? NO! How many times do I have to tell you, I'm not getting help? I can quit when I want, and today is NOT that day," Ronnie growled.

Everyone sat in silence for a steady five minutes. Bryan, Ronnie's best friend, spoke up.

"Then you're out," Bryan said as he let his head hang down.

"Oh. . . okay. I see. Well, good luck finding a lead singer as amazing as me," Ronnie pouted as he exited the bus.

"Ronnie! Wait! Where are you going?" Bryan shouted as he got up and followed him.

Ronnie stopped walking and collapsed in tears. Bryan crouched beside him. "I'm sorry bro, but you have had many opportunities to get help. It's over now."

". . . can't be happening. . . not good enough. . . hated. . . everyone. . . life is over," is all Bryan could make out.

"Ronnie, I'm so sorry, you're my best friend, I didn't want you out, but it was the only other way. I. . ."

"You what?" Ronnie sobbed.

"I. . . I . . . love you."

Ronnie stared at Bryan. He was completely shocked, because he felt the same. "Then maybe it's a good thing I'm out of the band."

"See, I shouldn't have told you," Bryan dropped his head again. "Now you hate me."

"No, it's a good thing I'm out of the band because I feel exactly the same way about you."

Ronnie stood up and dusted himself off. Bryan followed the lead. As Ronnie started to walk away, Bryan grabbed his arm and pulled him in close. Ronnie wrapped his arms around Bryan and squeezed him very tightly. Bryan tilted Ronnie's face up towards his. His lips crashed down on Ronnie's.

The rest of the band walked out and gasped in shock. "What . . . the. . . "They all said in unison.

Bryan and Ronnie instantly let go of each other. Ronnie felt his eyes fill up with tears. He wanted to get away before the flood gates opened up. He turned and ran for the backstage door. As soon as he got inside, he threw open the bathroom door and stormed inside. He slammed it shut and made sure he locked it.

I feel sick. I think I'm gonna puke. Ronnie thought to himself. He leaned over the open toilet bowl and all of the food he ate that day came up. He heard a loud knock on the door. "Go awa-" he threw up again.

"Ronnie? It's me," Bryan's soft voice came through the door. "Are you okay?"

Ronnie got up and rinsed out his mouth in the sink. He opened the bathroom door. A tear-streaked Bryan Monte stood in front of him. He threw his arms around Ronnie and sobbed into his hair.

"Bryan, I'm okay, I just got really worked up over this whole situation. I promise."

Ronnie touched his forehead to Bryan's. Bryan tilted his head down enough for their lips to barely touch. He wanted Ronnie to be the one to make the move, which he did.

When they separated, Ronnie sighed. "I have to go. Good luck with the band," he turned for the door.

"Wait, how are you going to get home?"

"Who said anything about going home? I just need to get away."