by BA Tortuga
Seb’s eyelids fluttered, and sure as shit, he got a slow smile. He’d known it. Seb knew.
He stroked the back of that thin, bruised hand. Clearly they’d been running out of places to put IV needles. “Missed you.”
Seb’s mouth was moving, the man just talking to him from somewhere deep inside. There wasn’t a sound to it, not yet, but that was the core of who Sebastian Longchamps was. That voice was bigger than this shit, bigger than them.
It was when Seb stopped talking that he’d given up. Markus squeezed the hand he held. “That’s it, baby. Just talk to me.”
It would start with talking. Then they’d sing. The music always healed them. Always.
Chapter Twenty-One
HANK WILLIAMS was playing. Sebastian frowned, focusing on the song. He loved “Jambalaya.” Loved it. Then George Strait started singing about falling to pieces. That was Markus’s playlist. He hummed along, so tired, too tired to lift his head.
The iPod usually didn’t sound this good with the little speaker the nurse had. This sounded kinda huge, in fact, like one of those really good systems. He managed a few words, his lips feeling less dry today. Yay.
The song changed again, and this time it was Markus Kane singing one of the rare cover songs that had made it onto the big music sales websites, “Good Year for the Roses” ringing out. It sounded odd, though, almost like it had a weird echo. Like it was a live recording, He didn’t have that in his collection, though.
Then the voice dipped into harmony, and he smiled. Oh, be real. Please be real.
“Markus?” His Markus didn’t like to sing harmony. That was his job.
“Hey, baby. Just practicing. I have lead-singer disease.” Markus’s voice moved closer with every word until the man was there, leaning over him. “I was on my laptop over there.”
“Markus.” It was him. His lover looked tired, worried, but real. “You’re here.”
“So are you.” Markus’s smile widened, lighting up the room.
“Jack says…. You have to go. He’ll hurt you.”
“Jack is on the run, baby. Tawny’s friend, Eduardo? He’s real influential here in Brazil. He spread the word that Jack is an embezzler and kidnapper.”
He was sure, in some other life, all those words made sense together, right? “He says he’ll destroy you. I think… I think he was trying to kill me.” At least shut him up.
“I think he’s lost his mind, baby.” Markus touched his hand, so careful. “I’m not scared.”
“You’re real.” The thought was overwhelming, and he closed his eyes, squeezed them shut.
“Seb?” Markus petted him. “I’m so sorry.”
He wasn’t sure what for. Markus hadn’t done this. Maybe Markus was leaving. Maybe…. God, he was tired.
Markus touched his cheek, stroking gently. “Sleep, baby. I’ll be right here when you wake up, okay?”
“Am I… okay?”
“You’re gonna be fine. You were half-starved and heavily medicated.”
“Oh.” His heart started pounding hard, the world moving just a little too fast.
“Shh.” It was like Markus knew. Hell, maybe there was a machine hooked up to him or something. “It’s all right, Seb. I promise.”
How could it be? How? He didn’t even know where he was, and…. “Don’t go.”
“I won’t. I’m here. Right here.”
“’Kay.” He looked down, watched his fingers curl around Markus’s. “Okay.”
“Now you just need to sleep. Heal. I’ll sing a spell.”
Sebastian closed his eyes tight. “Please.”
At least that would make sense.
Markus had turned off the music, but that didn’t matter. The man could flat-out sing, even if that rich voice sounded rough, overused.
In his head, he sang harmony, and it sounded good.
“HEY, BABY.”
Seb had been sleeping the sleep of healing for days, according to the doctor. Markus was all about that, but for the last hour Seb had been dreaming, and it wasn’t good. So Markus was ready to wake him up, chase the nightmares out of the man’s mind.
Green eyes popped open, bloodshot and scared. “They’re going to get you. Markus. Candy. You have to run.”
“Shh. I’m okay, baby. No one is going to hurt us here. I promise.”
“You don’t know. You don’t….” Seb sat up, grabbed him, and Markus was stunned. The man hadn’t moved in days.
“Hey.” He pulled Seb close, holding on. “I got you. I—you wanna go outside? Eduardo has this amazing courtyard.”
“Uh-huh. What’s outside? Are we in… Japan? I was in Japan.”
“We’re in Brazil, baby.” He gathered up the blanket, wrapped it around Seb before lifting him. “Can you hold the bag, baby? You’re on all sorts of vitamins and stuff now.”
“Brazil? I love it there.” Seb held the IV bag, looking like an owl. “Are we at a hospital?”
“No. We’re at a friend of Tawny’s. He’s a bull rider.”
“As in eight-second ride, latigo, he’s got a fever?”
That actually made Markus smile. If the man could pull three bull-riding songs out of his ass, he was going to be okay.
“You know it. He’s studly. I think he has designs on your pilot friend.” There was a huge chaise lounge made out of old wood, with cushy pillows, and he settled Seb there, the sound of fountains tinkling.
“It’s sunny.”
It was spring here, which seemed weird, given that autumn was coming at home. “So you need a hat or some sunglasses?” He’d been basking when he wasn’t with Seb, so Markus was pretty brown.
Seb shook his head, face hidden in Markus’s chest. “Is this okay? Will someone see?”
“No one will care if they do. Eduardo has this huge ranch. I can’t wait to show you.”
“I… I feel like I’ve missed everything.” Seb’s fingers slid over his arm, loving on him.
“You were a little out of it.” God, it was good to hear Seb talk. Talk and make sense.
“Yeah. Maybe more than a little.”
“Maybe.” His mouth kicked into a smile. “You look better. Got some color.”
“You’re like a nut. I like it.”
“Yeah?” He grinned. “It’s weirdly easy here. To just be.”
“Did I fuck up? Did I do something wrong?”
“What? No. No, baby. You tried to do what was right.” Rage wanted to just bust out against Jack, against the assholes who were more worried about their money than their talent. He didn’t want Seb to think it was aimed at him, though.
“Okay. Okay. I… I don’t remember a lot. It’s all weird.”
“The drugs they had you on did that. Well, that and the starvation.” He breathed deep, relaxing each muscle in turn.
“I don’t eat much.”
No. No, but Seb was going to fucking learn how to. Breakfast, lunch, dinner. Food with chewing. No shakes. Damn it. Pineapple only if it came with upside-down cake.
“Well, not recently, you haven’t. They have amazing pastry here.”
“You and your doughnuts.” Seb actually smiled.
“Better than Kyle’s potato chips and Twinkies.” He needed to call Kyle, actually. Later.
“Twinkies are unnatural.”
“They are.” He held Seb close, listening to the man breathe. “We got your guitar. Jack left it when he cleared out.”
Seb went still, so still he actually thought something had happened, that Seb had stroked out.
He pulled back, peering down at Sebastian’s face. “Seb? Are you okay?”
“He… he took my guitar. That’s my fucking guitar. I have had that acoustic for twenty-five years!”
He stroked Seb’s hair, which was odd, that he had hair. Markus grinned at it, the pale stuff so soft. “We got it. It’s okay. Not a scratch on it that you didn’t make.”
“He… he said…. He….” Seb stared at him, eyes like an unbroke horse or a dog that had been
hurt bad, deep inside.
“You can tell me, baby. I’m right here.” It had to be like infection. Better out than in.
“He said I deserved this shit, that you all knew I was crazy. That I needed to be kept in my place.”
“It’s not true, Seb. None of it. Jack is the crazy one.”
“I’m not crazy. I got clean. I…. Let me up. I have to get up.”
There was no way Seb could walk. No way. He didn’t want to hold the man down, though, make him feel unsafe. So he sat back, waiting to catch Seb when he fell.
“Fuck. I’m not crazy!” Seb stood up, swayed, taking a stumbling step before collapsing into his arms.
He heard footsteps in the house, and he shook his head. No. No, now Seb needed some privacy. Bev came charging out, but Markus held up a hand, shaking his head. She stared at Seb, tears rising, but she nodded and backed away, taking Tawny with her.
“I’m not crazy. I’m not. I just did my fucking job!” Seb’s fists beat at his chest, so weak they were barely tapping at him.
“You did. You did.” He let Seb whack at him, let the man get it out. Markus remembered how it felt, and he was glad he could be right here.
“He took and took, and I didn’t….” Seb sucked in a breath, panting. “I would have given it to him. I would have given him the money.”
“You’re the most generous person I know, Seb. Bev always says so too.”
“I would have just let him have it. I just want the music.”
“The music I can do, baby.” He smiled, letting Seb rest that sweaty forehead against his. “I love you.”
Seb breathed with him, in and out, blinking slower and slower, letting him hold on. Those poor torn-up hands were tangled in his shirt, and he eased Seb to the chaise again, checking the IV line.
Seb was dozing for him, trusting him, and he made sure all the man’s dangly bits were covered before texting Bev, telling her to come say hi.
She came out of the house with a tray of juice and a plate of bizarre fruits and cheeses. And cheese breads. Uhn. He loved those strange round balls of dough.
Seb woke up for her, head lifting so he could see her where she stood across the way. “Bevvie.”
“Boss, man, you scared me. I thought…. I was worried.”
“Me too.”
“You ever fire me again, I won’t come to your rescue.” Bev was holding it together by the skin of her teeth. She pushed the tray of food at Markus, who took it. He let Seb ease up, and Bev sniffled, leaning down to hug Seb tight.
“Shh. We’re okay.”
“You look like a concentration camp victim. That’s not okay.”
Seb just snorted at her, which made Markus smile and pop a piece of bread into his mouth. Bev leveled a glare at him.
“Don’t laugh at me,” she said.
“Just feed Candy and let me laugh.”
“Markus is snarfing away.”
Snarfing? Markus chuckled. “It’s good.”
“The man loves Brazilian food.” Bev gave them both a grin. “Can I get you anything, boss? Anything?”
Seb shook his head. “I’m okay. Tired.”
“We’ll get him tempted with something, Bevvie.” He’d make Seb eat. First, though, he had to get the man strong enough to fight.
She didn’t look convinced. “You’re all fuzzy, Seb.”
“Too tired to wax. Markus will just have to deal with it.”
“I can handle it.”
Look at Seb smile for her. It looked real. Bev was a good friend.
“I bet.” Beverly winked at Seb, her pale skin actually starting to pick up a little gold. “You should have seen him, arranging this with Tawny.”
“Tawny’s here?”
“God, yes. Tawny. Justin. Me. Bruce calls every day.”
“Kyle gets daily updates too, Seb.”
Sebastian chuckled, but the sound was bittersweet. “Y’all love me.”
Seb had no idea. The man’s band had held a coup of headliner proportions. There was legal shit flying around that was the stuff of legend. The label was taking a shot to the balls. If Markus had anything to say about it, they’d take more than one. Hell, the way Tawny was working this, she was going to castrate the bastards. It gave him glee. Downright unholy fucking glee.
“We do love you,” Bev was saying. “Markus is crazy about you, huh? I mean, really.” Bevvie smiled at him a moment, fond as anything.
He popped her nose, gently. Seb had always kept her busy. Together, they’d run her crazy. It would be fun as fuck.
Seb chuckled, the sound watery but so good it squeezed Markus’s heart. “Thank you. Thank everyone for me?”
“Yeah. You look like shit, boss, and you need a bath.”
Seb glanced up at him. “Do I stink?”
“Not to me. You might feel better, though. Let’s see what the doc says about this drip, and we can maybe shower in a bit.”
“Make everyone go away. Everyone but you.”
“Okay, baby.” Markus nodded at Bev, who grinned and nodded right back.
“I’ll put this in your room,” she said, grabbing the food. “I had them change the linens and all while you were out here.”
“Thanks, honey.”
She left them, and Markus hugged Seb close. “You want to go in?”
“I just want to sit here for a minute. I can’t breathe.”
“In and out.” Markus stroked Seb’s back, hoping to hell it helped.
Seb didn’t say anything, and he started singing again. It was stupid, but he knew it helped. It helped him; it was what they were, damn it.
Score and lyrics.
All he could do was hope it would be enough to get Seb back to the world of the living. Markus didn’t really know how to make music without the man anymore.
Chapter Twenty-Two
THE MOON woke him up, and Sebastian slipped out of bed, feet leading him to the pool. The IV was out, and the doctor was only coming in once a day to check on him.
Bev had found him clothes—soft and loose. He was always cold now, even if it was sunny. Markus just wrapped him in blankets and rubbed his hands. Sebastian wasn’t even sure where Markus was, not really. Sleeping somewhere, he guessed. Or having supper. Or watching TV.
It all seemed like those things—those normal, simple things—couldn’t even be real anymore.
He sat at the edge of the water, watching the moon dance in the tiny waves. The sounds of night birds and small animals came to him, the whole world alive. That was so weird. Hotel rooms and rented condos always seemed so dead.
Part of him wanted to slide into the water, just float, but he wasn’t sure if he could get out, and getting wet was so weird and the water might be too cold.
The scrape of soft shoes on flagstones reached him, and he grinned, thinking how strange it was to see and hear Candy wearing flip-flops.
“Hey, baby. It’s pretty out here, huh?”
“It is. It’s a little like magic.” A little like Heaven, although he wasn’t ready to be so close to there again.
“I was thinking of buying a place down here. Of course, Kyle wants an island.”
“Kyle loves Austin. He’ll never leave.”
“I think he wants to vacation there. Maybe I’ll get him a condo in Galveston.” Markus sat next to him, close enough to feel the heat from that big body.
“The moon is big here. Can I ask you something? Am…. Do they have me on stuff or not? I feel… different.”
“The drip was antibiotics and proteins and stuff. Fluids. Now you’re just getting some vitamins in your smoothies.” Markus nudged him gently. “We’ll wean you off those too. The smoothies.”
“I hate smoothies.” He’d heard the doctor, when he’d been dozing. No scales, no weighing, no more marathon exercise sessions.
“Oh, me too.” Markus chuckled, the sound low, intimate. “I like cheese bread.”
“I’m worried. I don’t know what’s going to happen next, and I don’t know wh
at I’m supposed to do. I don’t… I don’t want to do a show right now.” Or ever.
“So we don’t. You’re on sabbatical. Writing.” That big body moved closer when he shivered. “We could just write for other folks.”
“We?” He let himself lean. “I could be we. Us. I mean, yes, huh?” How could someone who wrote so many lyrics not have the right words?
“I think we’re definitely a we.” Markus kissed the tip of his nose. “You gonna get mad at me if I drag you inside and hand you a guitar?”
“Why would I get mad at you?” Writing music was bigger than breathing, in his soul if not his body.
“Because the last time I mentioned your guitar you got upset.” Markus was carefully not looking at him, not pressuring.
“No. I got… pissed. Man, I was so fucking pissed off. He tried to steal that, fucking steal my music from me, like it was a goddamn commodity.” He knew, practically, that it was. It was his livelihood, but…. Shit. It was more than that.
“Good thing that’s sunk too deep in you to get gone.” Now Markus was looking at him again, then leaning in for a kiss, almost chaste, but not quite.
That little kiss let him breathe, let him pull in Markus-and-moonlight-flavored air. “Do we have score paper?”
MARKUS LED the way to the big family dining room in Eduardo’s house.
One by one, then in twos and threes, everyone had been visiting Seb, either in the suite they had, or out in the courtyard. Bev was back to spending an hour a day with him, planning all the paperwork Seb had to file, feeding it to him in sips. Tawny had come, not mentioning work, just talking about the baby and her plan to go home before she got too big to travel.
Justin, the surfer pilot, had stayed on, and played checkers with Seb at lunchtime every day. Hell, even Eduardo’s numerous sisters had come and gone, every one of them delivering plates of nibbles. When Tawny had taught one of them to make biscuits and gravy, though, Seb had actually eaten. Everyone had cheered back in the kitchen.
Now it was time for Seb to meet their host. Eduardo had cleared out most of his truly exuberant family, and supper would be a small affair of about seven people.