by Peter Styles
“Huh. I guess I do,” Damian says, wondering. “Habit, I think. Any time I move to a new place, I try to keep them covered until I find a job. People tend to judge.”
“I know,” Jace says, a faint smile flickering on his face. “I don’t even have that many and people still act offended when they see them.”
“You only have three that I can see,” Damian says, raising an eyebrow. “Neck, ears, left wrist.”
“That you can see,” Jace smirks. He adds, “You don’t have to hide them, you know. You’re following a band across the country. Most of our audience is a little more forgiving of tattoos. You’d probably even look better as security.”
“I haven’t been security since that first day,” Damian snorts. To be honest, I’ve barely helped set up. I feel like all I’ve been doing is tagging along. And pining after Jordan, of course.
Jace stops suddenly, looking up at the sign over the door he’s standing in front of.
“Sushi? Here?” Jace raises an eyebrow and pushes the door open. Damian follows him in. The place is tiny, with glass-topped tables covering swirling paintings of clouds and dragons. It seems kitschy but cozy, as if the place is trying its best to seem refined.
“Should I text John?” Damian asks.
“Go ahead. I doubt he’ll come. He’s probably being dragged around by the other two. I’ll bring them something to go if they want it.”
They both order and Damian glances at his phone, checking the time. There’s still an hour until they have to be back at the bar. He can’t help but feel a little guilty at leaving Jordan behind but he knows it would be uncomfortable to be around him. Why does this feel so much like a fight? We aren’t even together. He’s still brooding when Jace directs him to a corner table, arms crossed over his chest.
“Okay. Spit it out,” Jace sighs, tilting his head back to look at the ceiling as if searching for divine intervention.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to—”
“No, you’re clearly bothered by something,” Jace interrupts, holding up a finger, “Don’t apologize. You need to talk.”
“No, I just…I’m not sure how I pissed Jordan off, earlier. I don’t want to make things awkward.”
“You won’t,” Jace says easily, swirling a straw around his iced green tea. “It takes a lot more. Besides, the rest of us know he’s being an idiot.”
“You keep saying that, but it’s not like he did anything wrong.”
“We’re not idiots.” Jace stares at him, a corner of his mouth turned as if he’s disappointed. Great. Am I making him mad, too? “We were all at the bar when he first went up to talk to you. It doesn’t take a genius to see that there’s something there. You listen and you work hard and you care.”
“That’s what any friend would do,” Damian points out.
“Yeah, sure, but friends don’t make out at God knows what time in the morning in empty parking lots.”
He saw that? Damian feels his ears burning. He wishes the ground would swallow him but instead, the server comes by with their plates. It only offers him momentary relief, though, because Jace is determined. They only eat for a second before the man picks up where he left off.
“I know you care a lot about him,” Jace says. “And I know it’s hard to get alone time when we’re always on the road. Jordan is hard to pull out of his shell, but you manage to do it pretty easily. You still seem to be holding back, though. Why?”
Do I tell him? Damian hasn’t been able to bring it up with Jordan, however much it occupies his free time. His thoughts. He really wants to say it, though. To somehow put it out into the world, where it won’t eat at him from the inside. Damian looks at Jace, uneasy. He feels like he can trust Jace but he doesn’t want to take any chances. Except this whole trip has been one massive chance. He decides on something—part of the truth, but not the reason.
“I once screwed up a relationship in college. It…these two guys, one of which I kind of knew, were together. I didn’t know, so when I was in a bar and one of them came up to me, I didn’t think anything of it. It wasn’t until later that I realized what I did.”
“That’s bull,” Jace says. “We’ve all had crap like that happen. What are you really hiding?” I guess I can’t avoid it, Damian thinks to himself. Maybe he doesn’t want to, either.
“I knew him when we were kids.”
“What?” The answer seems to have thrown Jace off. Damian would laugh—Jace has never looked so uncertain—but he can’t really muster the energy.
“When I was a kid, I used to play in the woods. My dad would kill me if he found out—it was always for an hour or two. I ran into Jordan one day; he was eleven. It was only a few months, but I would see him once in a while.”
“That…isn’t what I expected,” Jace admits, staring at his plate. He shakes his head and adjust his chopsticks. “I didn’t realize it was you.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, I didn’t realize you were that kid.”
“Wait—you knew about me?” Damian is just as confused as Jace looked. What the hell is going on?
“He mentioned you. It was brief, but I asked about it a year or two after, and he barely remembered what I was talking about. He has the worst memory.”
Damian sets his chopsticks down. He feels like everything has ground to a halt. A thousand things crowd his mind but only one stands out, mocking him as he stares at the sushi on his plate.
“I’m an idiot.”
“Why? You—”
“I’ve been wondering this entire time whether he remembered or not. If he forgot because he didn’t care. All this time and I didn’t once stop to think he just has a really shitty memory.”
“Okay, you’re only a little bit silly for that,” Jace admits, rolling his eyes. “But honestly, most people would probably remember, so I think your confusion was valid.”
Damian laughs. He can’t help it; there’s bizarre relief in realizing that maybe things aren’t as complicated as he thought they were. Maybe all of his worrying has been for nothing because Jordan just doesn’t remember much, even if it is important.
“Maybe you should start feeding him blueberries. Or testing him. Or making home videos,” Damian laughs. His appetite returns suddenly, along with his desire to make things right.
“Yeah, maybe. Anyway, what are we going to do about Sarah?”
“What do you mean?” Damian asks, but his mouth is full and it comes out muffled. Jace shakes his head at the bad manners.
“I mean, you have a chance to make a move tonight and she’s thrown a kink in the plans. He’s in a bad mood, now.”
“It’s not like she’s going to follow us,” Damian says, raising an eyebrow. “And I can talk to Jordan on the bus if I need to.”
“No, no,” Jace says, waving a hand. “Jordan got pissed at himself, not you. He was angry earlier because he probably realized he shouldn’t be flirting with a stranger around the person he actually wants to be flirting with. We just need to get him out of his head.”
“Wait, he was mad at himself?”
“Yes. He regularly self-sabotages,” Jace rolls his eyes. “Usually by accident, but that doesn’t make it better. Anyway, he’s probably pining after you right now like the puppy he is.”
“Hm. Okay,” Damian says. So, I just need to show him he hasn’t messed things up. He thinks as they eat, considering the possibilities. He’s not sure he should flirt at the concert—after all, the band’s fans are always watching and he doesn’t want to make a scene when he’s a newcomer. He also doesn’t know how Sarah would react or what other drama it could start.
Speaking of drama. He knows Jace, at least, is supportive of Damian’s relationship with Jordan. It would stand to reason that the others would be, too, but their reactions to Jordan’s attitude at the bar had been more than just annoyance on Damian’s behalf. They had seemed genuinely upset.
“Jace?”
“What’s up?”
“I, uh…
well. There’s no way to really ask this. Why was everyone so upset at Jordan? I mean, I know he didn’t help set up, but…,” Damian trails off, hoping he’s asking the right questions.
“Oh. Well, I guess if I had to explain, I’d say that Jordan is the mom.”
“What?”
“He takes care of the band,” Jace explains, grinning. “It’s his baby—and sometimes, he acts like everyone else is, too. He might be a middle sibling, but here, he’s the oldest. He’s always been like that—trying to take care of others. I think he secretly looks up to his older sister—even if they are always arguing.”
That makes sense, Damian thinks. He almost laughs, imagining the band as angry children whose mother has stopped paying attention to them for a short time. It fits with everything else he knows—Jordan taking too many driving shifts and planning everything by himself. It’s just one more reason Damian is starting to realize he loves him. They’re a lot alike, looking after other people more than they probably should.
So I just have to pull him out of his head, he thinks. Easy enough, right?
9
Jordan
He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t aggravated. Maybe it was the way Damian had laughed at something Jace had said, or maybe it had started before then. All he knows is that by the time Sarah had started talking to him, he’d been too distracted to respond properly to her unending flirtation. By the time he had gone outside to talk to Damian, he’d been too…something, to react properly to the tease. He’d taken it as disgracefully as he possibly could have, and the result had been Damian’s surprised expression and sudden withdrawal. It was the exact opposite of what Jordan wanted.
But what does it matter, anyway?
It takes him too long to extract himself from Sarah’s side. By the time he gets away from the conversation, he can see the road crew heading for the door. Jordan excuses himself quickly, practically jogging to catch up with them. He looks around the bar as he goes, trying to find Damian.
“Hey. Where—”
“They went to look for something to eat,” Kieran answers preemptively. They? Jordan realizes Jace is gone, too, and he feels his chest constrict. What are you getting worked up for? It’s good that they’re getting along. He repeats the thought but each time, it feels less true.
“Oh. Well—where are you headed?”
“Shop across the street,” John says brusquely. “David wants to go. We’ll be back in time.”
“Okay,” Jordan says, wondering if he should ask whether they want food, but the crew is already walking away. He stands in the doorway for a moment, wondering what’s going on, and decides to escape to the bus. The last thing he wants is to go back to Sarah.
Even they know I messed up, he thinks. He’d been so shocked by Sarah’s flirting that he hadn’t thought to politely back away and busy himself helping the band. He feels immensely guilty for leaving them to do all the work; he’s never felt like he’s failed the band more than he does now.
He failed Damian, too.
Maybe they’ve barely kissed but everything seemed to be going well. It had felt good—like they were building up to something and Jordan was just waiting for the tour to end so he could properly date him. Now, it seems like he’s hurt his chances by not taking a chance to talk with Damian in favor of letting a stranger flirt with him. Even before that, he knows, he’s been sabotaging his chances by second-guessing everything he’s done. He’s been treating his few moments with Damian like fleeting things, acting as if they have no meaning in the grand scheme. Maybe they are and maybe they aren’t, but Jordan knows he won’t get anywhere acting like their relationship is casual. Especially when he wants it to be anything but.
Jordan can’t think of anything to do—he knows he should apologize or explain to Damian, but he also knows he shouldn’t press the issue so soon. He heads into the bus, hoping to take a nap and maybe figure out what he’s going to say. He shuts the door to the bedroom, lying on the bed and staring at the ceiling. Less than five minutes pass before he slaps an arm over his forehead, frustrated. I can’t sleep. Is this how it feels to be fighting with your partner? All he wants to do is hunt Damian down and talk, against his better judgment. He has to force himself to lie still, concentrating instead on how he’s going to explain. I didn’t mean to encourage her, or even ignore helping the band. I was just being too nice to walk away, at the expense of the person I actually care about. Jordan knows being nice isn’t an excuse. He could have easily politely extricated himself from the conversation.
The truth isn’t just that he was being nice. The truth is that he’s been questioning what he has with Damian from the beginning. He’s seen enough people come and go—oh, you’re in a band? Wow. I love that. People treating him like a commodity, people treating it like a fetish, people staying just long enough to fool around and leaving before anything concrete could be established. He’s had his share of one-night-stands, brief and satisfying but never really enough to fill the empty spaces. Despite how open Damian is—how kind and bright and careful—Jordan still can’t bring himself to open up entirely. He’s still waiting as if the other shoe will drop and Damian will leave as soon as the tour is over, taking his money and smile and gold eyes with him. Maybe that’s what I’m afraid of, Jordan thinks. Wanting him so much and losing him. He’s not sure how well he’ll handle a heartbreak. The others, he’s weathered—but none of them have been like Damian. None of them have been so alive. None of them had turned to look at Jordan, amused and sly, with arms full of tattoos and a heart full of love for traveling and helping others. I can’t lose him, Jordan thinks. Not now. Not after knowing what I know about him.
The door to the bus opens in the distance and Jordan glances at his closed door, wondering who it is. The second he hears Jace’s laughter, he considers asking his cousin for help before he hears Damian’s voice. Jordan tenses, wondering if he should come out or not.
“I think he’s sleeping,” Jace says, voice muffled by the door. “Just keep quiet. Don’t want to wake him up.”
Damian says something Jordan can’t hear, voice lower. Jordan fights the desire to listen at the door, reminding himself that eavesdropping would just make him twice as guilty. He resolves to wait for them to leave for a while. He tries to ignore their laughter and murmured conversation. I should feel happy that they’re getting along, he thinks, not for the first time. He should, but he can’t help his uneasy feeling. Jace has always been so easily popular; he’s relatable and open and no one can hate him. Maybe Jordan can admit to feeling a little discouraged by Jace and Damian being close; it wouldn’t be a stretch to imagine Damian getting closer to Jace instead, considering Jordan’s recent mistake.
What if they do? If they somehow end up together, can I handle it? He wishes he could say yes but he knows, somewhere deep inside, that it would hurt.
Jordan watches the time and waits but neither Jace nor Damian seem to be leaving. I’m going to have to come out, he thinks nervously. He waits as long as possible to emerge and right before he does, he hears the click of the bathroom door. It gives him the smallest sense of relief—he’ll only be facing one person, and there’s an equal chance that it could be Jace, who probably won’t ask any questions.
“You’re awake. I thought I’d have to get you up,” Jace says. Jordan only feels grateful that it’s him for a brief moment, one hand on the bedroom door, and then he pauses. Something about the way his cousin talks to him is different. He sounds…bored? Jordan can’t quite pinpoint it.
“No—I couldn’t really sleep well,” Jordan says, hedging around the topic. “Is everyone back yet?”
“Not sure. Kieran was inside when I went in earlier. They’ll be fine—they know when we go on.”
“Right. Well, I should probably go in,” Jordan says, gesturing at the door. Jace nods, unspeaking, doing something on his phone. He’s not giving anything away.
Jordan gives up and heads inside the bar. I can talk to Damian on the way to Tuc
son, he thinks. For now, I need to focus on the show. The others are already inside, he notices, waiting around the stage and talking. They aren’t quite as dismissive as before, but he can tell they’re probably still irritated that he didn’t help earlier.
“You all ready?”
“We’re always ready,” Sam says. He’s twirling a drumstick in his hand absentmindedly, surveying the gathering crowd. Most of the people are relaxed, seated at the bar or group tables. It feels like a relaxed atmosphere; Jordan doubts they’ll be much screaming.
“Slow night,” Kieran notes, as if he can tell what Jordan is thinking, “but still excited. A girl came up earlier to talk to Sam; she could barely get a sentence out. Apparently, some people drove from Tucson to see us.”
“Tucson,” Jordan echoes, surprised. “I guess it makes sense. We’re close enough. I’ll tell Jace he should thank them.”
“He already knows. He’s been chatting up a storm on our accounts,” Sam says, raising an eyebrow. His expression quickly changes, a sly look changing his features. “Guess what song they asked for?”
“You’re kidding.”
“Nope!” Jace says, walking towards them from the back door. “It’s what they want. You should think about adding it to the next album, you know. As a bonus track, if you’re feeling shy.”
“Where’s Damian?” Jordan asks. He tries to sound nonchalant, but he has to stop himself from looking around the bar to find the other man.
“He’s coming,” Jace says, picking up his guitar. “He wanted to move the bus to the front, where the security guy can see it. Oh, and Damian said he’d be stage security today.”
“Stage security?”
“He’s going to sit at the edge of the stage,” Jace says drily. “I told him there’s no reason to, but he said he wanted to feel like he was doing something.”
Jordan wants to try asking about Damian—is he angry at me? Instead, the group is interrupted when the owner walks over. Jess is pleasant, apologizing for not being there when they arrived. Thankfully, Jace takes the lead and Jordan is able to blend into the background, glancing at the back door repeatedly before reminding himself not to. He’s in the middle of chastising himself when he feels the stage shift under another set of feet. Jordan glances over to the steps, wondering if he’ll need to run away from Sarah again, and freezes.