[1-2] FAULT LINES

[threedimensions]

Dimensions: [1-2]
Timeline: February 2017
Title: Fault Lines
Summary: Andrew and Keith discuss blame and worry over the declining situation between their bandmates.
~4k




It was completely silent on the bus while they waited for everyone else to come out from the hotel and get loaded up; only Andrew, Keith, Brandon, and Jack were on theirs, though Jack had gone directly back to the far end where there were bunks. Keith was staring fixedly at his phone and Andrew kind of wanted to smack Brandon, whom he actually could not believe was sitting right there and, before god and everyone else, reading that interview.

Okay, it had come out the day before and he'd hadn't had a chance to yet, but Jesus why would he want to? Liona had given Andrew the gist of it and he'd cringed enough to know that he couldn't read it, not when he'd already known most of it anyway and it was all so stark, like looking at a naked, vulnerable part of his friend, one that was now exposed to the metal teeth of the public. Of course Brandon was reading it, though—whether or not he wanted to, he would think that he had to know what was going on, how to react to new information, developments on the situation for the band. Judging by the confused, lost, hurt look on his face as his eyes took in every word of the transcript, it might even be worse than Andrew thought.

There was a loud thumping sound at the front of the bus, and Andrew turned in time to see Keith look back at him before tossing his phone down and jumping to his feet. Andrew got up and came up the short aisle, seeing Mark on his hands and knees on the stairs, Keith crouching down and holding his hands out to him. Andrew stepped in too, and they both grabbed Mark's arms and helped him to his feet while he swayed.

Andrew smelled it at once and, as usual, the words came out of his mouth before he could stop them, before he could even think about it. "Whoa, dude!" he said. "You are really drunk!"

Mark looked at him in faint surprise, his eyes doing that jumpy thing that meant that he could barely even focus. Andrew didn't know if he'd gotten up early to start or if he had gone all through the night, drinking instead of sleeping, but he assumed the latter due to his state. He supposed he shouldn't blame him, not with what he'd apparently actually admitted to in the interview, but it was super bad form to be this drunk so early in the morning. He didn't think the band had anything on the schedule for today except traveling, but what if they'd had? Keith had muttered the other day that he thought Mark's drinking was getting worse lately, and Andrew had brushed him off, saying that it wasn't really their business, and he was always fine for their shows, and that was what mattered as far as their business with it went. Keith had given him a mildly disgusted look that Andrew also brushed off; he was used to getting those looks from his brother, who often considered him dense and completely oblivious to people and their feelings. He wasn't, not at all, but what else was he supposed to do about this?

Mark's eyes jumped again, this time going past Keith's shoulder and to the open lounge area of the bus and the little benches, where they did focus: on Brandon, who was still staring down at the tabloid in his hands, that stricken look still on his face. Keith set his jaw, but Mark didn't see him.

"Oh. I am," he said. "Good. That's probably good, actually?"

He tried to stand up on his own and Andrew reluctantly let him go, but Keith didn't. "Come to the bunks and lie down," Keith said quietly. "I'll get you some water."

Mark seemed to be trying to think about this. "Okay," he said finally. He tried to step forward and stumbled again, and when Andrew reached for him, Keith pushed him aside and pulled Mark's arm over his shoulders, almost dragging him along.

Andrew just stood there a moment, hearing voices outside as the rest of their crew that traveled with them dealt with luggage and the day's itinerary. He went back over to the bench he'd been on, across from the one Brandon was still on, and looked at him; he was still holding the magazine, but his grip had loosened and while his gaze was still on the page, his eyes were unfocused, dumbstruck. He looked up at Andrew and tried to speak, but there was nothing he could say. Andrew just looked back at him until he dropped his eyes to the floor.

.

Later, after the show, after the scene with Karney, Keith found him alone in his room (hoo-fucking-rah, he couldn't even enjoy having a room with a real bed in which he got to sleep with his girlfriend again, not with all the crap going on lately) while Liona was out with some other band member's girlfriend (Andrew didn't remember which but associated her with Fun Size). "I hope you're fucking happy," Keith snapped.

Andrew knew immediately what he was talking about and his mouth dropped open. "What the hell, how was any of that my fault?" He paused while his brother glared at him. "And why would I be happy about it?"

"You and your fucking matchmaking shit," Keith said in a low voice, which turned into a mocking one. "'Dance, my puppets!' You didn't have to interfere. All those years ago. You should have left them alone."

"When they were—?" Andrew frowned then. "You knew?"

Keith rolled his eyes. "Everyone knew, dumbass. Kylen knew for sure—Luke and Delta knew." He paused. "I didn't know it had to do with what's-her-face that Mark was seeing, not until those pictures. I just thought they were..." He shrugged. "Messing around, or whatever. On their own. Friends with benefits, whatever you want to call it, or whatever they called it."

"So did I," Andrew said. "I had no idea she was involved or that it was her idea or any of that. I just—like you said, thought they were just playing around for funsies."

Keith glared at him again. "So why'd you have to stick your nose in? You think I don't know it was you? You're the one that knew Jack."

Andrew frowned. "You don't like him? I thought you did. Or, do you not think he and Brandon are good together?"

"I think he's fine," Keith said flatly. "That isn't the point."

"What's your point, then?"

"That this—all of this bad shit right now—is your fault! You should have left them alone!"

Andrew's eyes widened and he couldn't speak for a moment. This was so rude. "I had to!" he said finally. "They didn't know what they were doing. You don't mess around with someone that's one of your best, closest friends, and let it get to the point they were at, without it ending up hurting someone. At that point, there's an emotional component to sex no matter who you are if you already have a close relationship. They weren't even talking about it—it was just happening, all the time. It was going to end up being a huge thing that could have ruined them being friends at least, and they wouldn't even know each other now. Then we wouldn't have the band, and—"

"Oh, yeah, this is a fuck of a lot better," Keith scoffed. "And you don't fucking know that." He paused. "They could have just decided to be together. Mark could have figured out what he felt and it could have turned into something else, something good. Them doing that, if you'd kept your goddamn meddling out, could have eventually helped him realize that he felt that way all along. It was none of your business and you. Should have. Left them alone."

"But...it doesn't always go that way. Like." Andrew shook his head. "It...especially because they let it go on for so long without talking about it. They didn't want to talk about it. They must not have, at all, or it wouldn't have turned out like this. I..." He shook his head and leaned back in the chair he was in. "I honestly thought they were just bored," he said quietly after a moment. "I thought it was supposed to be just fucking around, no feelings attached, not yet and I didn't think it would be good if there were, and see? It wasn't! Maybe I was supposed to intervene, but I was just too late? I didn't know, I was—I was waiting for it to stop, like it has with every other time someone in our group has fucked around for funsies."

Andrew looked up at his brother, but Keith continued to glare at him, so he just sighed and went on.

"They didn't act different the rest of the time. If it was going to be a feelings thing...it was going to turn out bad, because if it was going to be a good thing, okay, it wouldn't have just gone on for so long being only about sex, even if it was just about weird live gay porn for his girlfriend. Maybe it was a control thing for her too, who fucking knows?"

Keith pressed his lips together and Andrew knew he was losing patience, and yeah, he was blabbing about shit that didn't really have to do with the topic at hand, but goddamn if he would enjoy being blamed for the horrible shit the both of them were going through now? Not even counting everyone around them that was close to them, like Jack and the rest of the band.

"I just mean...wouldn't they have done something about it a lot earlier? If it was going to be a good-feelings thing? Neither of them did or said anything at the time. So it—it couldn't have been prevented."

"In case you haven't noticed," Keith said slowly, "they both have, and always have had, a big fucking blind spot about each other. That's why it took until now for Mark to realize how he really felt—which I know he would have years ago if you'd just left them alone. It's why Brandon gets so fucking pissed when anyone tries to mention anything about it, because he's pushing it away so hard that any mention of it freaks him out because, if it's true, what then? He has to confront his own feelings, that's what. You know how good he is with that."

"Which are...what?" Andrew frowned. "How do you even know if he feels the same? Maybe he doesn't, okay? Maybe for him it really was just bored fucking around. He did that a lot. With a lot of people." He paused, wondering if Keith knew that, well, he knew personally. "How'd you even know?" he asked after a moment, meaning the fact the two of them had been secretly fucking for weeks—months—all those years ago. "How did Luke and Delta know? I only thought that maybe Kylen knew, but that was because she hung around Brandon so much. I wondered if he'd even told her."

Keith shook his head. "I don't think he told her. I'm pretty sure—you're right, they didn't even talk about it to each other. So why other people?" Then he shrugged. "I knew because of the way they looked at each other." He paused. "They started touching each other. Not, you know, in a gross personal way. Just...they always avoided it before. Or Brandon did, at least—before, he wouldn't even touch Mark's arm or shoulder or hand if he was passing him something. More of his denial, I think." He sat down in the other chair nearby and stared at the floor. "I went over to your guys' house once," he said. "I didn't text him first because he always said we didn't have to, just come over if we wanted and if his car was there he was there, so one time I wanted some pot because I was messed up about those few classes Mom and Dad talked me into and I was bombing hard. And you guys never locked the door when at least someone was home—you fuckin' forgot to lock the door when you did leave—so, because it was open, I just walked in."

Andrew's mouth dropped open again. "Oh my god, they weren't—"

"No." Keith rolled his eyes. "And I really doubt if they were going to, it would be in the fuckin' living room. It was supposed to be a secret, remember? They were on one of the couches, I think just watching TV. They were the only ones home, so there was plenty of room on that, on the chair, on the other couch...but they were sitting together on the end. Close together. Like, pressed up close. Brandon's arm was around Mark's shoulders and he looked happy about it. They both did." He sighed. "Brandon jumped up when I came in and he went upstairs and got me the bag when I asked him for it, but that was when I knew for sure. I don't know how Luke knew, I think he just...figured it out. Or maybe he saw something too, since you all lived together then. Or Kylen figured it out and told Delta and she told him. Or one of them saw something, I don't know. Either way, we all knew them and we all saw it change."

"Well, it's still not my fault that all of this is happening," Andrew said after a silent moment. "I didn't know there were pictures if I didn't even know what's-her-tits was involved. I didn't know she was going to try to blackmail them with them. I didn't even know that introducing Brandon to Jack was going to work, okay? He could have been like, 'No, I'm good' when I was like, 'hey, you want to meet someone?' But he wasn't, and that was his decision. He was cool with putting a halt on whatever thing he had going with Mark almost right then and there, because I know that must not have still been going on those months where he was starting out getting to know Jack. Plus I think Mark and Bitchy Coozeface broke up around then anyway."

"They did. And...you don't find that telling, at all."

Andrew shifted uncomfortably where he was sitting. "I don't know. I don't even know why they broke up." Keith rolled his eyes again and Andrew glanced around for something to throw at him, but only the corded phone and the glued-down table lamp were within reach. "Look, it doesn't matter," he said. "All I can see is that, back then, they were both fine with ending it. Or going back to just being friends, whatever."

"Clearly not."

"Well...Mark could have said something to him then, too. Whenever they talked about stopping, which I'm assuming they must have." Andrew frowned. "If you're so convinced that my—what did you call it, meddling bullshit—was wrong and fucked everything up, then why were they both okay with being like, 'Okay, that was fun, but it's quitsies, everything back to normal'?"

"I don't think Mark was," Keith said quietly. "I think he just went along with it."

"So—so you think he's been, like, pining or whatever for years?" Andrew made a face, thinking that that wasn't possible. They'd known them for what felt like forever, had literally lived together for two years (Brandon—then he'd moved out to live with Jack and Kylen had moved into his room) and four years (Mark—who had bought his own house and moved out around the same time Andrew had himself), had almost lived in the same space together in the last couple of years with the band taking off. He could be oblivious, but he was pretty sure he would have noticed if Mark had been staring at Brandon sadly or whatever for years, or being pissily jealous of Jack, something.

"No. I really do think he only just figured it out." Keith sighed. "Too late, apparently."

"If he would have said something then, I bet you a dead cat and a string to swing it with that Brandon would have dropped the whole entire idea of Jack right then and there," Andrew said. "Especially if you're also convinced that Brandon feels the same way, which I'm not. I told you, he fucked around with a lot of friends, just for sex, and he never changed his attitude any other time."

"Know that from experience, do you?" Keith asked dryly.

Andrew drummed his fingers on his thigh for a few seconds, annoyed. "Yeah," he said. "Yeah, I had sex with him. Two or three times. That's all it was. Nothing's ever changed between us." He gave his brother, who still had a flat look on his face, a defiant look. "Bet you didn't know that."

"I did, actually. I just wanted to make you say it."

Andrew scowled to hide his surprise, though really, of course his goddamn twip brother knew. "Well, fuck off! If you already knew that, then you already knew that Brandon messed around with friends all the time and never made it a thing. So what makes you so goddamn sure that his thing with Mark was any different?"

"Because it was," Keith said. "For one, it went on for months, not just a couple of times. It wasn't just fucking for the hell of it, it was...intimate. Enough so that we could all tell something was going on just by the way their attitude changed between them even when we were all just hanging out. Brandon's just in such denial about it that he can't even let himself think about it. And it doesn't help that he's with someone who needs him. Someone that he wouldn't have even known if not for you."

"Fine, I apologize," Andrew said loudly, spreading his hands. "I'm sorry for trying to help! Up until this pictures bullshit, it seemed like it did! None of this shit ever came up before. Brandon and Jack have been happy, and I never once saw Mark emoing into his Cheerios about it in the last five years before that manipulative bitch and her pictures. Have you?"

Keith rolled his eyes. "No, but—"

"Then it's not my fault. It's that sneaky cunt's fault. Why don't you be mad at her instead of at me?"

"I am mad at her."

"Well, good! I am too. God, why are we even arguing about it?" Andrew threw himself back in his chair, disgusted. "There's nothing we can do about it. It sucks, it really fucking sucks, but, man, it's not even our shit, and we can't help."

The only help he'd been able to give was to try to distract Jack sometimes by talking to him about games or playing chess. Everyone always forgot about Jack—which was technically the state he generally preferred, but it wasn't at all like he was unaffected by this. His own boyfriend having weird sex pictures with what was supposed to just be his friend from years ago and now apparently that guy, who he'd always been super close to, was really depressed and drinking himself stupid and had said outright that he was in love with him? It tended to worry a person!

He'd tried to spend more time with Brandon too, to distract him, but he was so on fucking edge about all of this that he snapped about anything and Andrew didn't particularly enjoy being snarked at, even though Brandon was clearly depressed and lost about all of this too. It was hard to imagine in real life and not a dumbass movie or something—who literally falls for their best friend? How would it possibly feel to find out that your best friend felt that way about you, but...you were already with someone else and loved that person instead? And this was Mark—someone that everyone in their group would have agreed he would have killed for. It was understandable that he was freaked out and confused and sad that he didn't even really have a friendship—or anything—with Mark right now, but he still snapped at everything around him if he couldn't get at what was bothering him, and Andrew only had so much patience himself.

He'd tried Mark too, but Mark had withdrawn from just about everything, hiding away in his bunk with the curtain closed or sitting in a corner with his earbuds in and staring at his phone and not looking at anyone, not really answering if they tried to talk to him. Andrew had tried, with all of them, but only Jack was still receptive to his company, and so he'd spent the most time with Jack...which was, again, good, since everyone else, including some brothers, focused too much on the admittedly shittiest part of the whole situation and completely forgot others.

Keith looked up at him, that wounded look in his eyes that Andrew hated, the one that said he was anxious and tied up and worried and sad, freaking depressed about something that he had no control over. "Because it's breaking him," he said softly. "Mark. Did you read it? What he said?"

"No," Andrew said at once. "Li did. She told me some. I—I don't think I want to."

"I did. It's fucking horrible. You can hear all of the things he wants to say but can't, not even drunk like that." Keith slumped in his chair. "He doesn't deserve this."

Andrew opened his mouth to counter that Brandon didn't either, that the whole thing blew chunks for everyone involved—Jack too, where was the outrage for him in this?—but he didn't want to keep getting into it, didn't want to make it seem like he didn't understand that it sucked for Mark the worst.

"No," he said instead. "He doesn't."

"I'm really worried about him. Something's going to happen."

Andrew shifted again, uneasy. He had heard a similar phrase from Keith his entire life, starting before kindergarten, ramping up big time when they were in third grade, the first time their parents had sought therapy and medication for him. His anxiety, over real or imagined impending doom, always whispered to him that something was going to happen. Andrew definitely understood being concerned, but he didn't think anything—anything doom-level—was imminent. He didn't want to discount what Keith said, though, because it took a lot for him to even talk about his anxieties, and if he felt like they were brushed off, he would keep it all to himself until he had another breakdown.

Their parents always tried to find a real-world solution for any of Keith's anxieties that they could, and Andrew thought hard for one. "We could try to spend more time with him," was all he could come up with, and he was hesitant since, well, he'd already tried. But they could—should—try again...Mark was their friend and this was bad, and if he was pushing everyone and everything away, maybe they had to go after him and get him. If they were around him more, maybe they could distract him away from drinking so much or at least better gauge where his mood was.

"I tried," Keith said. "Before I came here. He wasn't answering texts or messages so I went to his room." His mouth quirked as he continued to stare at the floor. "He's drunk again. Not falling down or anything, but I could tell. He wouldn't look at me, just said he wanted to be alone. I don't think he does, he just...can't be around anyone else."

"Shit."

"Yeah."

There was another long pause, then Andrew said, "Tour's almost over. Maybe, you know, some time away. Some perspective. Some quiet time away from all the prying eyes and idiots trying to be in his face all the time."

"Maybe," Keith said, but he didn't look convinced. "That could make it worse if he's already feeling isolated from everyone else."

Andrew didn't know what to say, then. They just...couldn't help. And if he really had been the cause of the hurt and it turned out bad—worse than this—he'd never forgive himself.