-9-
Xane
Ronnie walked out with Alle and Paul, leaving Xane and Luthor as the sole occupants of the Black Halo dressing room. The moment they were gone, Xane put his head in his hands. That had gone rather better than it might have, but the tension across his frontal lobes told him he was still running afoul of the strain. Rubbing circles into either side of his temples didn’t ease the pressure. When Luthor’s shadow fell over him, he peered up. His lover’s face was curiously closed, the shadows in his mismatched eyes, unsettling.
“What?” he asked.
Luthor stirred uneasily, rocking from one foot to the other, then he went over and closed the dressing room door. Not so very long ago, such a move would have signalled only one thing. Today, it set Xane’s heart racing for an entirely different reason. Ravishment was clearly not foremost in Luthor’s mind as he put his back to the door. Then again, nor was it in his. If people wanted to find cause for worry, then that in itself ought to be a lightbulb.
It all felt hopelessly alien. The dressing room. Playing rhythm on stage. Christ, the audience had sure lapped it up, but it was wrong… wrong, wrong, wrong.
Luthor gave a loud sigh. He shoved his hands into the side pockets of his cargo shorts, but it did nothing for the tension across his shoulders.
“Whatever it is—” Xane began. They might as well get it over with. He knew it was only a matter of time.
His lover’s eyes narrowed. “Why are you lying to her?”
“I’m not.”
“For that matter, why the fuck are you lying to me?”
His first instinct was denial, but he could already see from Luthor’s expression that would get him nowhere, and fuck creating additional discord. Life was screwy enough already. “I don’t know where Spook is,” he insisted.
Luthor continued to study him, his gaze burning him like a blast of gamma rays. “True.” He pursed his lips. “But you’re not as blind as the rest of us. Not knowing’s a deliberate choice on your part, whereas the rest of us are genuinely clueless. You know something. Maybe not where he is, but how he is.”
“Not dead,” Xane replied. “Leastways, I assume not, since he’s buying groceries.”
“Which you know because?”
There wasn’t a straightforward answer. Certainly not one that wouldn’t cause more friction.
“Let’s see, you’ve a joint shopping account, maybe? That it? Are we going with that?”
Xane bit his tongue.
“Fine, let’s go with that.”
“I really don’t know anything, Luthor.”
“Oh, curiously enough I believe you.” He clucked his tongue. “I guess you finally found a use for your toxic siblings. The bit I don’t get is why you’ve not demanded the knowledge of his whereabouts and why you’ve kept the rest of us in the dark. Every member of our band is a fucking mess right now. Alle is… Christ, Xane! You’ve seen the state she’s in. You could’ve told her, reassured her.”
“Of what? I can’t tell her it’s all going to be fine. That he’s fine, because the odds are he’s anything but. I can’t give her facts because I don’t have any, and yes, fine, that’s deliberate, but—”
It was also frankly easier not to be around her than deal with his conflicting thoughts on the matter.
Luthor sucked in a breath, but bit back whatever he seemed on the verge of spewing. They both glared at one another. Xane forced his shoulders down. Luthor was the last person on the planet he wanted to argue with. He was the only reason that Xane wasn’t in fucking bits right now. “There’s nothing I can say to her to make it better, Luthor. If I say, ‘Hey, he’s alive,’ then her next question is ‘How the hell do you know that?’ and it all goes downhill from there. Do you think it’s been easy sitting on my hands? Not going to him? I’ve had to stop myself so many times.”
“Why? Why stop yourself? Why not go to him and take Alle along?”
He didn’t have a ready answer to that. Certainly not one that would make sense. “I guess I knew there wasn’t any point… It wouldn’t have led to the outcome any of us want.”
Luthor’s brows crawled further towards his hairline. “Closure?” he suggested.
Xane chewed his tongue. “It’s not that simple, Luth. Don’t you want us to have the best chance of getting the band back together?”
“It worries me that you’re more concerned about the band than her.”
“I’m not.”
