It was fortunate for him that the process of setup, rehearsal, and performance was something that required his complete attention, so he was able to put everything else aside and focus on doing what he had to do. He didn’t feel the same jubilation that being on stage typically gave him, and he was well aware that Dmitri didn’t turn around, as he normally would during a show, and shoot him a grin or a thumbs up. No doubt Dmitri needed time to get back to normal. That was no surprise, since Andre felt like he needed some time himself.
It wasn’t until after the show, when he was lying in his bunk, that the pain returned. It was a throbbing ache that stole over him in the darkness, a feeling of loss and despair that filled every corner of his soul. His heart cried out for what he’ddenied himself and Dmitri, and he was certain that the guilt and longing, as well as the regret, were going to be with him for the rest of his life.
CHAPTER 9
“Hey, are you okay?”
Dmitri jumped at the sound of Luka’s voice, and he turned from staring out of the bus window to see that Luka had slid unnoticed into the dinette across from him.
“Uh, yeah, I’m fine,” he said, summoning up a smile from somewhere. It was hard sometimes to keep up the appearance that everything was normal, and he had taken to using any time he was alone to shore up his defenses. He knew the mask had slipped occasionally in the last week, but he was getting better at it. Like any show, the more practice you had, the better you were at performing a part. At the moment, Dmitri was acting in the role of someone who wasn’t crying inside.
You’ll get over it, he repeated to himself again. It had become his mantra, even if it wasn’t really helping too much. In fact, if Luka could see that there was something wrong, that meant he was probably broadcasting in HD to the rest of the band.
Despite his promise to Andre, returning to the friend zone was far harder than Dmitri had anticipated. He had expected to give himself a day or two to lick his wounds, followed by a stern lecture about wallowing, before putting the kiss firmly inthe past, and going back to normal. But he couldn’t. No matter how hard he tried, memories of that kiss, of that perfect moment between them, haunted his dreams and made reality that much harder to deal with. It wasn’t Andre’s fault that Dmitri wasn’t dealing with his shit and being the supportive friend he’d been in the past. He still wanted the impossible, and nothing seemed to make that feeling go away. He couldn’t even talk to anyone about his feelings, because in doing so, he’d have to break the trust Andre had placed in him by revealing his secret.
Luka looked at him closely, as though trying to see the truth behind Dmitri’s facade, but Dmitri met his gaze levelly despite the effort it took. It was a lucky break that they were alone. A quick glance showed that everyone else was probably still asleep because the door to the sleeping area was closed. It was, in fact, earlier than Luka was normally awake, which was another reason Dmitri had been startled to have his silent contemplation of the mess his life had become interrupted.
Finally, Luka shrugged in resignation and sat back against the cushioned seat. “If you say so. But we’re friends, right? I know I’m not great at picking up cues most of the time, but you know I’ll listen if you need to talk.”
Dmitri smiled, and this time, though it was small, it was also genuine. He reached across to touch Luka’s hand in gratitude. “I know,” he replied. “You listened to me back when I was a miserable grad student playing in a coffee house, and I’m still grateful that you took the time to convince me to just walk away from it and do what really made me happy.”
Luka returned the smile with a crooked one of his own. “Yeah, well, I knew a few things about doing that myself. And I’m glad that your parents, at least, got over their disappointment. For a while, I was worried they were going to come after me with torches and pitchforks.”
“I think they were just wanting me to go into clinical practice so they could say their son had a job counseling movie stars on Rodeo Drive.” Dmitri kept his tone light. To be honest, the problems that had seemed so overwhelming just a few years ago paled into insignificance compared to what was happening — or, rather,nothappening — at the moment.
Luka gave a small huff of amusement. They’d actually bonded as much over discussing the strains of parental expectations as the fact that they were both cellists. Dmitri had realized, once Luka had related his own experience, that he actually was putting more pressure on himself than his parents were. The realization had helped convince him to do what he wanted and play cello professionally, rather than spending several more years in grad school, then yet more years trying to help other people figure out how to solve their own problems. He’d realized, to his surprise, that he simply enjoyed learning about psychology more than practicing it. So his parents had been disappointed, but they’d eventually supported his decision because it made him truly happy. And one of the best things about being a successful musician, he’d found, was that he’d been able to pay back his parents for all the money they’d loaned him for his education, so he didn’t even have to feel guilty about it.
Which was good, because he had other things he now felt guilty about — like not being able to move on from his pain and be natural with Andre again. Even when he was trying his hardest to act as though nothing was wrong, he felt off-kilter, unable to laugh and tease as he once would have. Every effort he made felt unnatural and stilted.
He must have made a face, because Luka suddenly gave him a narrow-eyed look of suspicion. “Nice attempt at deflection,” he said quietly, then snorted at Dmitri’s surprised reaction. “Hah, I’m more than just a genius songwriter, you know. Kit convincedme to go to therapy, so I’ve learned a couple of things. Enough to recognize in others what I do myself.”
Dmitri grimaced. “So the student has become the master?”
“And… there, you’re doing it again.” Luka paused, then shook his head. “I’m not trying to pry, but I really do want to help if I can. It doesn’t take a psychologist to figure out things between you and Andre changed after that night at One World.” He held up a hand when Dmitri would have interrupted. “Don’t bother to deny it, and I get that it’s between the two of you and none of my fucking business. I just need to know if you are thinking of leaving the band over it. Because I will fight for you tooth and nail on that one. You belong with the F-Holes. All jokes about ‘second strings’ aside, we can’t do this without you. In many ways, the F-Holes only exist because of you.”
Dmitri stared at Luka for a moment, not understanding. “What do you mean? You already had grabbed Kris as a singer before I came along. You were putting the band together before you even met me.”
“I was puttingaband together.” Luka tapped the table between them with his forefinger to emphasize his words. “You know I play guitar, too, and I’d honestly planned on doing that for the new group, rather than playing cello because it reminded me too much of what I’d done in Sultana. But when I went to that open mic at the coffee house looking for a bass player, instead I found a cellist who is every bit as talented as I am on the strings. That’s when I knew that I needed you, and that two cellos would be the hook that would propel a new band up the charts. I looked at the way you grinned like a maniac and heard the sound you were getting out of that knock-off Ruggieri instrument you were playing, and it all fell into place. That was the night the F-Holes were born. You were never second string, Dmitri. For this band, you were always the first.”
Dmitri could only stare in surprise for several moments. He’d never known any of this. He’d always figured Luka had come looking for another cellist, that he’d already had in mind what he wanted. It was flattering and also humbling. He’d always considered Luka the superior musician, since, for Dmitri, cello had been his hobby, not his career, the way it had for Luka. He knew he was a decent player and had even considered switching majors in college, but his parents talked him out of it. He’d still played in his university orchestra, rating only third chair since the director had been focused on the students who actually intended to become musicians. He hadn’t minded at all, simply pleased to be part of something he loved doing.
It took a few minutes for him to find his voice. “Really? I never thought about it, I guess. You were so driven, and I was kind of overwhelmed with just being asked to be part of the band.”
Luka rubbed the back of his neck with a hand, looking a bit chagrined. “Yeah… I know I’m intense, and, back then, I had something enormous to prove. Not just to myself, either, but to Kit, my mother, and hell, the world. But when I heard you play, I knew I needed you in the band. Not as a backup to me, either. I may bring passion to the music, but you, Dmitri Martin, are the one who brings the joy.”
Again, Luka had left him speechless, but a warmth stole over Dmitri, lifting his spirits. He had, in the darkest moments during the last week, actually considered leaving the F-Holes. Not because he wanted to; he knew it would have been so he could drop his mask and run off to lick his wounds where no one could watch him do it. In some ways, it would be a lot easier than facing Andre day after day, knowing they couldn’t be together.
But now… how could he even think of leaving?
Humbled, Dmitri reached out to grasp Luka’s hand and squeeze it. “Thank you,” he said softly, feeling his eyes sting. “You’ve helped me more than you can possibly know.”
“Well, that’s what friends are for,” Luka said, returning the pressure, then releasing Dmitri’s hand. “And remember that music can help you process shit, okay? If you can’t talk about something, maybe you should think about letting it out on the strings. It’s always helped me. And once you’ve processed what you need to, then you need to figure out what’s best for you. Not what’s best for the F-Holes. Not what’s best for Andre. What’s best foryou.” He rose to his feet. “When you decide that, let me know. And now I need coffee. Be flattered that I said all of that without the benefit of caffeine. That’s how you know I really meant it.”
Dmitri laughed at the long-suffering look on Luka’s face. It was the first genuine amusement he’d felt in over a week, and it, too, helped. It would still take time, no doubt, for him to find his equilibrium with Andre, to pack away the hopes and dreams he’d cherished for the last few years. But now, at least, he knew the emotional turmoil he was going through would be worth it.
If he couldn’t have the love of the man he wanted, at least he had friends and a place he truly belonged. And the music. Even through loss, despair, and doubt, he would always have the music.
CHAPTER 10
