by M. C. Roth
He watched, mesmerized, as one song became two. The sound was different and on a whole new level compared to the previous band. These guys were good, and they knew how to put on a show. The band reset with each song, and the guitarist and bassist would sometimes switch places. The vocalist would shout into the crowd and the crowd would answer back as one.
Ian never looked at him. Not once. He stared off into the blank space behind the crowd where light had given way to darkness. His hands moved as if they were possessed and didn’t even belong to him, and he hardly blinked except for when a bead of sweat dripped into his eyes.
Trent felt something inside him break at the sight. This wasn’t the animated man who Trent had taken to bed. This wasn’t even the angry one who had stormed out of the house. This was the hollow shell of a man who was in too deep to be able to see the way out.
“Ian,” he shouted towards the stage. The sound of his shout was lost in the roar of music and the strum of guitars. Trent rocked back. He was so close to his goal, but it was just out of his reach, taunting him like a thieving bully.
Something pushed him from behind and he rocked into the barrier. The security guard looked at him, his arms uncrossing as Trent was jostled again. Trent shot an elbow back as he was hit again, and someone groaned behind him.
The press of bodies and the whirl of noise came rushing back. The lyrics, which he knew the moment he first heard them, were echoing around the stadium. He knew exactly when the sound would get loud, and when the vocalist would whisper into the microphone like it was a secret lover.
“Ian!” He shouted as loud as he could as the sound lulled. His voice cracked from the strain and he coughed into his hand. The vocalist sang on as if he hadn’t heard a thing. The crowd swayed and rocked.
He looked up, ready for defeat and the indifferent stare off into the distance. Two blue eyes met his. The beat stuttered for the first time in the set as surprise overtook the stoic drummer.
A smile broke over Trent’s face that was so large it hurt. His hand came up on its own and he waved at the astonished percussionist.
A moment later, the spell was broken, and the beat began again as if it had never disappeared. There was one difference, though. Those crystal eyes stayed locked on Trent. Ian’s surprise bled away and a familiar smirk settled over his lips. His arms bulged with new power as he tore into the drums with an energy that lit up the stage. If Ian had been a star before, now he was a god.
The vocalist smiled as he glanced back to Ian. When he turned back to the crowd with a belted note, the place erupted in noise. The energy of the song and the power of the notes became almost tangible.
“Fucking percussion specialist.” Trent mumbled.
“Did you see your boy? He looks so good.” Candace screamed into his ear. Her hands wrapped around him from behind to pull him down to her.
“I just got it.” He yelled back. He broke out into laughter, shaking his head at the title that Ian had given his profession when he’d told Trent all those nights ago. He watched as Ian’s lips turned up and his smirk became a sweet smile as he mouthed two silent words.
Call me.
Chapter Nine
The second the curtain drew closed and Ian disappeared from view, Trent was already turning to leave. The crowd was dispersing as they went to get more beer or relieve themselves during the quick break. Candace grabbed him by the arm as he tried to push by and clung to him like a leech as people parted around him.
“Thank you. I have to pee so bad,” said Candace. Her hands slipped down his arm until she was clinging weakly to his fingers. She stumbled over nothing as she tried to keep up to him.
“Are you going to be okay if I take off?” Trent asked. He paused to take a good look at her. Her cheeks were flushed and her pupils so wide that they took up almost her entire iris. She focused on his face for a split second before her gaze cut to the left at something he couldn’t track.
“I’m fine.” She smiled with a loopy look on her face. “This is so fun. I’m so glad we came together.” She ran a hand through her hair with a broken giggle.
Trent pulled up short with a sigh. “What did you take?” he asked softly. “You’re completely out of it.”
“I’m fine. I’m fine. I’m fine.” She nodded rapidly as she continued to repeat the same three phrases. “You can take off.” She whirled around and started stomping away. She tripped over a small stone along the way, just barely correcting her balance.
“Wait,” Trent grabbed her arm. “I still owe you that beer, right?” He let her go and she disappeared into the bathroom as he went to stand in line. His gaze cut back to the bathroom entrance every few minutes as he waited for his friend to emerge. He was almost at the front of the line when a voice broke into his thoughts.
“You worried your girlfriend is going to run away?”
Trent turned to the voice. A short brunette with a spiralling eyebrow piercing looked back at him. She popped her gum as he looked her up and down.
“She’s not my girlfriend, actually. I’m just worried she might’ve gotten sick in there. Can you check on her for me and I’ll buy you a beer?” asked Trent.
“Deal,” she said, already walking towards the bathroom. “What does she look like again?”
“Blonde, cute. Amazing tits and she knows what a tongue is for,” Trent yelled louder than he’d intended. More than one curious look passed his way.
“Perfect.” The brunette broke into a smirk and disappeared into the bathroom. Trent nodded to himself, pleased that he had once again nailed it. He wasn’t the best wingman ever for nothing.
Five minutes and forty dollars later, Trent was on his way out of the venue. Candace was already wrapped around the brunette and drinking from the wrong glass of beer. She was coming down off the drugs and sleepiness was hitting her hard. The brunette took it all in stride, slipping her tongue in with the foamy drink at every opportunity.
“Best wingman ever,” he heard Candace yell before her voice disappeared in a wave of sound as the next band took to the stage. She knew how to look after herself and could kick his ass, despite her size and level of intoxication.
He forced himself to wait until the music was just a dull thud behind him before he pulled his phone from his pocket. His fingers hesitated over the screen for a second longer before he unlocked it. He pushed the contact that he had saved months before, when he had looked at Ian’s phone. He lifted it to his ear with a shaking hand.
The path around him, which had swarmed with people trickling into the concert, was now almost deserted. He heard the click on the other end after the second ring, followed by the deep voice he remembered intimately.
“Hello?” Ian’s voice cut straight through him.
“Hey,” Trent breathed into the phone. He could hear the distant thump from the other side of the phone, louder than the beat on his side. “It’s Trent.”
“Hey, T.” Ian’s voice went quiet. The phone speaker muffled and cracked, and the sound of music dimmed.
“I want to see you,” said Trent. His shoulders slumped as he practically begged into the speaker. Months of hurt and disappointment poured into those few words, even as he tried to keep them at bay.
“Me too.” Ian’s voice was so soft that he could just barely hear it. “T, I’m sorry.”
“I’m sorry too. I should’ve realized who you were. I mean, you’re in one of my favourite bands. I’m just really terrible with names and faces, and I hadn’t listened to that CD in a while. It was—”
“T, it’s okay. You don’t have to apologise. I should’ve believed you…” Ian trailed off. The music went quiet before it started up again moments later.
“Can we not do this over the phone? I want to see you,” said Trent. He looked around the dimly lit pathway. He wasn’t the only person making an early exit and there were a few other stragglers heading slowly down the path. One was half-passed out in a bush and a security officer was already rushing over to them.
Trent’s heart dropped to the vicinity of his shoes. “I guess I’m still your dirty little secret then.” He pulled the phone away from his ear as the tears prickled at the corners of his eyes. He’d imagined the conversation going so many ways, but this wasn’t one of them. He had to go shooting off his mouth before Ian could even say anything. “I gotta go.” He hit the end call button before Ian could reply.
“Fuck.” He shoved his phone back into his pocket, nearly ripping the seam open on the tight jeans. A tear trailed down his cheek and he wiped it away. A second one replaced it and soaked the same path.
He stormed down the path and pushed past the open turnstiles and out onto the sidewalk. The hotel was only a few minutes away, but it felt impossibly far. His face felt raw as tears streamed down and soaked into his collar below. He let them fall and refused to acknowledge that they were even there.
Ian might as well have ripped his heart out and chopped it into tiny pieces. He’d reached out, again, only to be shot down. He was the one who had come the extra distance, and Ian had refused to see him like he wasn’t worth his time. It wasn’t even a matter of being too far apart. The man was right fucking there.
His phone vibrated in his pocket, jingling against the room key there and making a terrible noise. Trent whipped the phone out, not even looking at the caller ID, knowing exactly who it was.
“You can fuck right off.” He ended the call. He wanted to toss the phone across the sidewalk and onto the road so he could forget about everything on it. His phone vibrated again, jumping against his palm.
“What?” he screamed into the speaker.
“Is that any way to talk to your mother, you little prick?” His mother’s voice cut through his daze. “Here I am, being a good mother and calling her son to see how his week went, and he tells me to fuck off? Well, I’ll tell you something, mister. I can take you out of this world a hell of a lot easier than I brought you into it. I didn’t go through nineteen hours of labour with no epidural to have my son tell me to fuck off. The cops will never find your body.”
“Mom,” he said, cutting into her rant. Her voice dropped off immediately.
“Are you okay, honey? You sound like you’ve been crying.” Her voice changed to the coddling mother who existed beneath the layers of nosiness.
“How do you do that?” He wiped his eyes on the back of his hand. His voice cracked as a sob threatened to come from deep in his throat. He clamped down, pushing it back into his chest.
“I know you, sweetie. Are you okay? Are you hurt? Where are you?” Her voice lifted in panic.
“I’m fine, Mom. I’m just upset. I was just talking with Ian,” said Trent. “It didn’t go well.” His phone chimed as a second call started coming through. “Mom, the other line is ringing. I gotta go.”
“You tell him I say hi, sweetie, but If he hurts you again, I’ll circumcise him.” With a click, she was gone.
Trent took a deep breath before hitting the accept button without looking. He couldn’t bear to see the name on the screen.
“T, don’t hang up.” Ian’s voice cut through his grief like a knife. Trent couldn’t help the small smile that lit up his lips at hearing him. “Are you there?” Ian asked after a beat of silence.
“Yes.” Trent’s voice came out scratchy and raw. He cleared his throat, trying again, but it was no better.
“Shit,” Ian cut in and Trent heard him sigh on the other end. The music in the background had disappeared into silence. “Where are you staying?”
“I don’t remember what it’s called. It’s that new hotel just down from the venue. It’s fancy,” Trent found himself saying. The lightpost buzzed as he leaned against the beam. He ducked his head as a few people passed him, giving him quizzical looks.
“What’s your room number?”
Trent pulled the key card out of his pocket and squinted at the small print on the cardboard cover. “Four-thirteen.”
“I’ll be there in five,” said Ian as he hung up with a click.
Trent looked up from his phone. He was still just outside the stadium, the turnstiles in sight behind him. It would take him more than five minutes to get back to his room from there. His stomach lit with panic. Ian would show up and he wouldn’t be there.
He broke out into a sprint, clutching his phone like a lifeline. His feet slapped against the pavement in shoes that were meant for style, not use, and he cursed as his tight jeans tugged at his legs and made him slower. People dodged to the side of the thin sidewalk as he barrelled past them.
By the time he reached the hotel, he was gasping for air and his heart was thudding almost painfully. Sweat dripped down his back, which made his shirt cling uncomfortably, and his jeans felt like a disgusting second skin. The summer air, although slightly chilled, was still thick with humidity.
He pushed through the heavy glass doors and ran past the concierge desk while gripping his waistband and hiking his pants up the inch they had slid down. The hostess behind the desk looked up in alarm as he thudded by. His feet skidded and squeaked along the polished marble floors as he rounded the corner and ran for the elevators. One of the doors was ajar but closing fast.
Even in Trent’s panic, he remembered the movie where the woman was chopped in half as she tried to get out of the elevator that was half-open. It hadn’t been advertised as a horror movie, but it had left him terrified and shaking. Because of that movie, he never went near doors that were already closing, and he even avoided escalators for fear that he would somehow get caught and be dragged through the tiny crack. All that was pushed to the back of his mind now as he leapt towards the sliding metal.
He bashed his shoulder along the edge of the door hard enough to bruise as he tried to squeeze through the tiny space that was too small for him. The doors paused, shuddering to a stop before they slid open with a hollow ding. Trent tumbled into the elevator, unable to stop his forward momentum as he ran into the person waiting within. He registered a dark shirt and a blur of skin before he slammed into their chest.
If it had been someone the size of Candace, they both would’ve ended up with concussions from the force of the crash. Instead, he struck a broad chest that felt similar to hitting a brick wall at full tilt. Trent bounced off the elevator’s back wall just before someone wrapped their arms around him and halted the inevitable tumble.
“T?”
The smell hit Trent first. The deep scent that he’d once thought was cologne, mixed with sweat and fresh air. The voice that was deep and soft, just how he remembered it as they spoke together for long hours. Those arms were strong enough to hold him up against the wall, or in this case, keep him from falling on his ass.
Trent snapped up his gaze at the sound of his nickname. It was a full minute before he could respond. The elevator door had long-since closed, leaving them in relative privacy that couldn’t last long. His stomach lurched as he finally realized who he had slammed against.
“Ian.” His voice was more breath than words. His throat ached from his repeated screaming at the concert hall and from the flat-out sprint right after. He was breathing so fast that his vision was starting to blur around the edges. If Ian hadn’t been supporting him, he would already be on the ground.
“Why are you breathing so hard?” Ian looked down at him with concern. He pushed Trent back so he could scan for injuries.
“Had to run.” Trent gasped between each word. “You said five minutes. Was still…at the stadium.” He smiled as Ian broke out into a laugh. The sound of that laugh was better than any noise he’d heard all night.
“We could have made it ten instead,” said Ian as he leaned past Trent and pressed the ‘four’ to take them to the floor Trent indicated. “Our bus was already parked in this lot, actually. We had just parked when I called you back. Our agent made a deal with the hotel so we
could park overnight and still use the pool here.”
“I thought I heard music in the background.” Trent leaned back and pulled himself out of Ian’s arms. The disappointment was starting to creep back in, ruining his joy at finally getting to see the other man.
“Just the radio. The guys were just winding down. Mac already left and took a taxi to some restaurant down the road that is supposed to be the best in the area. He calls himself a food connoisseur.” Ian leaned back against the wall as he spoke. An awkward silence settled over them as the elevator lurched to a stop on the fourth floor.
“I missed you, T.” Ian reached out and ran a hand down Trent’s shoulder. He brushed his fingers against bare skin and sent a spark of heat down to Trent’s fingertips.
“But you don’t want to see me?” The words came out more bitter than he had intended. The elevator door swung wide and he stepped out onto the landing. There was an older couple waiting there. The woman smiled at Trent as he reached back and held the door open for her.
“Oh, thank you, dear.” The woman stepped past him, her husband following close behind.
Trent looked up as the door started to close. Ian had shrunk back to the other side of the hall, his eyes narrowed in suspicion.
“Do you think they know?” Ian asked after the elevator door slid shut again. “That guy was glaring at me and I swear I heard him whisper, ‘Faggot’.”
Trent turned and started down the hall and he didn’t stop walking until he was tapping his card to the black unlocking mechanism on his door. It unlocked with a beep and he pulled it open wide enough to let Ian pass into the room behind him.
Trent stepped into Ian’s space and pushed him back against the door the moment it closed. He reached up and gripped behind Ian’s neck before forcing him down to his level. There was resistance at first as Ian tensed, uncertainly in his eyes. Then he was surging down to meet Trent.