One

"Twenty four hour parties! Containers of cocaine! Bottles of tequila and vodka all over the place! What are you boys doing?"

Dean Ambrose stepped out of the shower in the suite room of the Hilton Barra Rio de Janeiro, only in his boxers and found Paul Heyman, manager of Steel Hounds, one of the biggest heavy metal bands in the world berating Corey Graves, the rhythm guitarist, staring blankly at him.

"Corey! Answer me!" Paul pressed. "Look at this place! It's a mess!" His eyes fell on Dean who was staring at him. "Please tell me you didn't touch a drop. I can't have it out that even the lead singer is back to his old ways," he pleaded to Dean.

"Nope. Not a single one," Dean replied. "He's going through a rough time, Paul."

"That's not an excuse, Dean."

"But it isn't. Losing a baby is not something you can just get over. It'll take time." His eyes fell on Seth Rollins, their lead guitarist, who was snoring with half his body dangling down the couch, a bottle of Jim Beam in his right hand.

Not far from him, Karl Anderson and Luke Gallows, their drummer and bassist, were sleeping on the bed with their mouths wide open.

"This tour has been nothing short but a disaster. And what's worse is that you're only a month into it. There's still eleven more months to go!" Paul burst out.

Dean had nothing to say. There wasn't much he could either. It was true that the band had gone back to their wild ways. Their first show on the tour was in Vancouver. When they had touched down, Corey had received a call that his wife, Eva Marie, had lost their baby.

He wanted to go home but Eva insisted that he continue with the tour.

Then the parties started. They lived their days and nights rock and roll: the drinks, the girls, the drugs… Old habits died hard. They took their partying on a larger scale; a different theme for every night.

The temptations of the road were always there in their faces and they just yielded to it.

Corey, whom Dean had always considered to be the level headed one, turned to booze to cope with his loss. Despite Dean's best efforts, Corey didn't want to hear any of it. He wanted to drown himself in the liquid courage to escape his sorrows.

Alcohol gave him the courage to say things he didn't have the guts to say. Dean emphatised with him, choosing to just be there for him instead of condemning him. He, of all people should know better on how to deal with alcohol addiction, having been an alcoholic currently in recovery.

But I wouldn't have been able to have done so without Roman, Dean thought. At that moment, Dean felt a pang in his heart.

His boyfriend and him were miles away and hadn't seen each other in a month. Sure there were phone calls and FaceTime but he missed holding Roman. He missed kissing him. He missed every damn thing about him.

Roman was currently doing his internship at Faith and Serenity Centre, one of the best rehabilitations in the States and Dean couldn't have been more proud of him. Dean himself had been due there for treatment of his relapse but the label had pushed forward their tour dates to promote the band's new album, Fastlane. Dean had kissed his boyfriend and hopped on a private jet, coping with temptation all around him, thanks to the band's never ending partying.

The price of being a rock star, he mused as he watched Corey struggling to stay awake.

Paul threw his hands up. "I give up. I'm going back to my room. You deal with this!" He closed the door behind him.

Dean sat down beside Corey. "Core," he said softly. "You want to sleep on the pullout out chair?"

"No," his friend mumbled. "Leave me alone, Dean."

He knew when his friend got like this that it was better to persist. He couldn't let Corey sleep on the floor. "Core, come on," Dean slid his arm under Corey's arms and helped him up slowly. He managed to put him on the chair and put a blanket on him. "Get some rest, man."

"It hurts, Dean," Corey mumbled. "It fucking hurts."

"I know, Core. It'll get easier soon. I promise."

Roman Reigns closed the door of the activity room behind him and looked at the wall clock. Shift was over. Time to go to his other job at the Javawocky as a waiter.

"Good job today, Roman," Dr Mick Foley, the chief medical officer in charge of the centre said. "I'm glad you're doing your internship here. You have a way with our patients. I've heard nothing but good things about you."

Roman smiled. "Thank you, Dr Foley. That means a lot to me."

"Hey, I'm kind of hoping that you'd consider us once you graduate."

"I would be honored. Thank you so much."

After a warm shower and a change of clothes, he walked out of the locker room, biding some patients and staff a good day.

He walked past a poster that he loved to read every time he clocked out:

Before you talk, listen.

Before you react, think.

Before you criticize, wait.

Before you pray, forgive.

Before you quit, try.

"Have a good day, Roman," Rhyno Waters, one of the orderlies said to him on his way out along the corridor.

"Thank you, Rhyno."

His phone vibrated and he smiled. Dean. Gosh, Roman missed him. "Dean? How was last night's performance?"

"Horrible," Dean groaned. "Corey hit a chord, and suddenly he just stopped playing. He just stopped playing and stared off in the distance for the rest of the concert."

"What did the rest of you do?"

"We just carried on with our performance. What else were we supposed to do?"

Roman sighed. "Do you think if I talked to him-"

"Forget it, Roman. That was the first thing I had proposed and he shot me down. Anyways, how's your day? I miss you like crazy."

"I miss you too. My day's great. Although I had a patient who had a family member snuck in a flask of alcohol."

"There are many of those out there. Did you confront him?"

"Yeah but privately though. I didn't want to embarrass him."

"That was kind of you. I'm sure you read the headlines about our partying… I didn't touch a single drop. I promise you."

Roman smiled. "I trust you. Don't worry."

He was about to clock out when he stopped dead in his tracks, recognising the person in front of him.

"Dean, I'll call you back," he said and hung up before his boyfriend could reply. His eyes couldn't believe it. What was even doing here? "J-Joseph?"

Dean frowned at his cell phone. What was so urgent that Roman had hung up so quickly?

He sighed and went over to the pullout chair where Corey was stirring awake. "Corey?" Dean asked. "Are you okay?"

Silence.

Dean tried again. "I'll get you some coffee, okay?"

"Bourbon," Corey replied, grunting.

"No bourbon, Core."

"I don't give a damn, Dean. I want my fucking drink... give it to me when I ask."

"Core-"

His friend stood up and brushed past him. "Fuck, Dean. I want that drink and I want it now!"

"Drinking isn't going to solve anything, Core."

"Maybe not but it numbs the pain. And that's exactly why I'm doing this." He opened another bottle and downed it.

Dean watched on, helpless. Was this how he was like before?

"Have some, Dean," Corey offered, wiping his mouth.

Dean shook his head. "No, Core. I can't. I won't."

Corey shrugged. "Oh well. More for me. Look, Dean. We're a rock band. We shouldn't have to give a shit about anything." He gulped down more before stopping and shoving it into Dean's left hand. "Drink! You know you want to. You know you miss it."

Dean stared down at the bottle in his hand, his eyes widening.

"What are you doing here?" Roman asked.

"I work here, of course," Joseph said. "I sold off my centre and decided to just work as a doctor instead of running my own place."

This was bad. Joseph Namakaeha was a former visiting lecturer who had taken a keen interest in him personally, even going so far as to offer Roman an internship in his centre and pretending to be his boyfriend in front of Roman's parents.

When Dean had found out having shown up at Roman's doorstep after his first stint in rehab, he was furious and lashed out, refusing to hear Roman out.

Roman had threatened to beat Joseph up if he ever touched him again.

He hadn't seen Joseph since.

Until now.

"How are you?" Joseph asked. "You look great."

"Stay out of my way, Joseph." Roman walked past him out of the entrance.

"Roman!"

He stopped walking and Joseph caught up with him. "Look," Joseph said. "Can't we put the past behind us?"

"No, Joseph. We can't. You almost ruined my relationship with Dean."

"You mean almost saved you from a destructive relationship. Look, Roman. They are bound to relapse. And it's going to be hard dealing with their behavior."

"Are you kidding me? Joseph, that's what rehabilitation is for. You can't give up on them. You just keep finding new ways to help them."

"Don't be naive, Roman. Once an addict, always an addict. It's just a matter of when they'll relapse."

"One drink won't hurt you, Dean."

Dean looked at Corey and then the bottle in his hand. Well, one sip wouldn't hurt… right?

The smell of it gave him nostalgia.

"Remember all those times we had fun on the Salvation's Fall tour?" Corey said, as if he had been reading his mind. "Our parties… unlimited booze and junk… come on, Dean. We are rock stars. Let's live like one. All these other bands are doing it. Why shouldn't we?"

Dean frowned. "We were choking on excess, Core."

"Is that so bad? We're not hurting anyone."

But I'll be hurting Roman, Dean thought. And I never want to do that.

"So one drink is going to make you addicted? One sip? Be realistic, Dean. Join me. Please?"

One sip wouldn't hurt.

One sip wouldn't.

One sip…

One…

Dean pressed his lips against the bottle mouth and stopped. What are you doing, Dean? Stop!

His mind was screaming at him yet every pore in his body was begging for it.

"What kind of rock star image are we projecting, Dean? We are not a boy band. We are not cookie cutters. We are motherfucking rock stars!" Corey laughed. "You know what the media called you? A mellow folk singer. That's not heavy metal, Dean. That's hippie."

That did it. He was no hippie.

Tilting his head back, the taste of smooth, sweet oak liquid with a hint of spice flowed through his mouth.

Dean spat it out immediately. "Fuck!" he yelled.

Corey started to break down then. Dean rushed to his side. "Core…" he consoled.

"I'm sorry, Dean. I'm so sorry," he cried. "Why does it hurt? Why won't it go away? Make it stop, Dean. Make it go away!"

Dean rocked Corey in his arms. "Give it time, Core. You're allowed to grieve. But please don't think that drinking will block it because it won't. It'll only make things worse. I'm telling you this from experience."

Corey shook his head and pushed Dean away. He opened the front door and ran out of the suite.

"Corey!" Dean called out.

Seth rolled over and fell off the couch at that moment. He looked shocked. " What… what happened?"

Dean picked up the bourbon bottle on the floor and placed it on the counter.

Jim Beam Black Bourbon Whiskey; eight years old.

Well, time to clean up the mess lest they wanted some housekeeping staff blowing their horn to the media.

As he started folding the blanket on Corey's couch, his eyes fell on the bottle again.

One sip.

One.

A/N I'm back… I hoped you enjoyed this first chapter. Alcoholism is a very hard disease to beat… I've always likened it to a monster under the bed. Do you know someone battling with an addiction? I hope that you take care of yourself while looking out for them.

Please leave me a review. I'd love to read it. :-)