They were so in love, and the sight of it made him ache with longing. If Kris and Jo could overcome all the difficultiesthey ran up against to be together, why couldn’t he do the same with Dmitri? The two women faced discrimination from so many people, not only for their sexuality, but for Jo’s physical difficulties and Kris’s gender identity, to the point that there were places the F-Holes refused to visit on tour in order to keep them safe. It wasn’t fair, not on any level, but they met every challenge life threw at them together. They were stronger as a team than either of them would be alone, and God, how he envied them that. He felt like he was fightingallhis battles alone, not by choice, but by circumstance. And he was tired of it; so very, very tired.
The concert venue was only a block from Central Park, and since they’d been there for three days, they’d been booked in at a hotel right across the street. He’d gone outside for his call to Miguel in order to show his son something of Central Park — not to mention avoid the risk of being overheard by his bandmates — but everything had been derailed by the child’s innocent question. So Andre made his way up to the large, top-floor suite they’d been assigned, hoping everyone was out sightseeing on their last day, and he’d be able to sneak in unnoticed.
Unfortunately, he found he was out of luck the moment he opened the door. Dmitri and Luca occupied two dining chairs that they’d pulled into the living room, with their acoustic cellos out. Several sheets of music lay on the coffee table in front of them. They both looked up as he entered, Luka with a faint smile, while Dmitri simply nodded to acknowledge his presence. Andre was going to slip away to his bedroom, one of five in the suite, but Luka beckoned him over.
“How about giving us your opinion on this new piece?” Luka asked. “I was thinking you could experiment on the drum part, since Kit will be on his acoustic rather than electric, too.”
It would be easy enough to demur, but there was something almost like a challenge in Luka’s hazel eyes. Dmitri had returnedhis attention to the sheet music, but there seemed to be an odd tension in the set of his shoulders. Or maybe Andre was imagining it; he’d found that the worse he felt about himself, the more he thought that everyone else in the band must be thinking he was crap as well.
“Sure.” He moved to a chair across from them. He didn’t feel like doing any composing, to be honest, but listening to them play was better than sitting alone in his room wallowing in self-pity. He’d have plenty of time for that in the long hours of the night, since he doubted he was going to sleep very much after the concert. “Is this something for our next album?”
“Potentially,” Luka replied, then looked at Dmitri, who shrugged and picked up his bow.
“1…2…3…4….” Dmitri gave the beat, and then he and Luka began to play.
Only a few measures in, Andre realized this was nothing like any of the songs the F-Holes normally played. The band focused on pounding metal and hard rock beats, where even the slow songs had forceful rhythms and sounded almost defiant, no matter the lyrics.
This time, however, the two cellists wove a dark, melancholy theme, passing the lyrical line back and forth between them. The strings vibrated together in a minor key that spoke so eloquently of longing that Andre felt his throat tightening and an ache growing in his chest. And yet he could also almost hear the way he’d add the drums in a slow, mournful cadence, a single beat followed by a double to emulate the beating of a heart. A heart that was obviously breaking.
Just when he thought the painful music would end on a note of despair, there was, instead, a change of key. The almost dissonant minor chords altered to a major, a dominant that made Andre think of the sun rising after a night of despair. The pain flowed away, replaced by a hope that glimmered faintlyand then grew stronger. Then Luka’s instrument fell silent, while Dmitri played the last several bars, a soft benediction of peace and acceptance that needed no accompaniment.
As the last note faded away, Andre could only stare at the two of them for a few moments. Then he looked between them and said, “Wow.”
Dmitri put his bow down and reached for one of the sheets of music, while Luka looked at Andre with a raised brow. “What did you think?”
“It was beautiful,” Andre admitted. He’d always known Luka was a brilliant composer, but the piece they’d just played had been something else. It had spoken to Andre on a completely different level from his usual songs, perhaps because Luka was now happy and in love. He could see how the themes would fit Luka’s relationship with Kit, from sad to now hopeful for the future. “Maybe the best thing I’ve heard of yours, Luka. You’ve really outdone yourself.”
“Me?” Luka snorted. “I didn’t write that. Dmitri did.”
“What?” Stunned, Andre looked at Dmitri, who met his gaze for a moment before looking away, a flush rising on his face. “That was amazing. I didn’t know you composed!”
“A little,” Dmitri admitted, focusing on the sheet of music he held. “Usually just for my own amusement.” He raised his eyes to meet Andre’s again. “You liked it?”
“I think it’s one of the most beautiful pieces I’ve ever heard,” Andre said truthfully. “It… well, it speaks, even without any words.”
“Luka’s going to work with Kris on lyrics.” Dmitri flushed darker. “I don’t have it in me.”
Because the song isn’t about Luka and Kit, Andre suddenly realized.It’s about Dmitri and me.
He wasn’t certain if something showed on his face, but Luka stood, a faint smile on his lips. “But not right now,” he said,moving to put his cello away. “I’ve got to go get Kit. We’re meeting his parents for dinner before the concert. I’ll see you at call.”
Once Luka departed, Andre was left alone with Dmitri. It was the first time they’d been together without the others around since their… discussion? Split? Andre didn’t even know what to call it.
Dmitri occupied himself putting away his own cello, while Andre sat, uncertain about what to do. A part of him still wanted to run, while another part wanted to take Dmitri in his arms, kiss him again, and damn the consequences. The song made Andre want things he’d been certain he couldn’t have, and the longing was still there. But acting on impulse would probably destroy the tentative, unspoken truce they’d achieved. He couldn’t spoil it now, when Dmitri had apparently gotten through his pain, processing it through his music. If Dmitri was ready to move on, Andre couldn’t be the one to dwell on the past.
After a few moments, Dmitri seemed to gather himself. He returned to the sofa, sinking down with a sigh and facing Andre directly. “Can we talk?”
There was something vulnerable in the question, and it didn’t help Andre’s desire to kiss him again. Of course, this might be bad news, and he steeled himself even as he nodded. “Sure.”
“First, I want to say I’m sorry.”
Andre gave a start, feeling his eyes grow wide as he looked at Dmitri. “You’re apologizing tome? What in the hell do you have to be sorry for?”
Dmitri shrugged. “Lots of things, but I guess mostly for having put so many expectations on you, without actually considering what you might be going through.” He raised a hand when Andre started to protest. “Please, can I finish? I’ve had a lot of time to think about this. Here I was, congratulating myself on being such a great friend to you, when I guess I was reallythinking about what I wanted our relationship to be. Yeah, I knew there was something holding you back, even though I was sure you were attracted to me. I was convinced it was just a matter of time until you realized we belonged together as more than friends. That was selfish, and I’m embarrassed to admit it. But I told myself that whatever was going on that kept you from acting on the chemistry between us would just magically disappear in the face of what was obviously our destiny.” He rolled his eyes, then paused for a moment, his voice becoming softer. “Life isn’t always like that, though. Maybe seeing Kit and Luka, and Kris and Jo, together gave me some unrealistic expectations about there being no issues that couldn’t be overcome. But obviously, some can’t be, no matter how much you wish it were different. It just took me far too long to look at things from your perspective rather than my own.”
Andre felt as though a giant fist was squeezing his heart. What could he say in return that wouldn’t be a confession of love? He didn’t deserve someone like Dmitri, who never gave himself enough credit for being a light to everyone in the band, especially to Andre.
“You don’t owe me an apology for a damned thing,” he murmured, shaking his head. “I’m the one with the messed-up perspective.” He stared at Dmitri for a few moments, then blurted out the truth. “It’s my fault for not looking deep enough at my own issues to find a solution. I should have stood up to Sibila, not let her call all the shots just because I was afraid.”
