It was hard being in love with someone you worked with, especially when that person had the walls in place that Andre did. Over the last four years, Dmitri had learned that Andre was funny, intelligent, dedicated, kind, and generous with a wicked sense of humor that meshed well with Dmitri’s own. Andre was great with fans and had a natural charm that people responded to. From everything Dmitri had observed, he knew Andre was a genuinely good person who could be counted on to help his friends and be there for them through thick and thin.
On the other hand, Dmitri had discovered almost nothing about Andre’s personal life outside the band, which was saying something, especially given the amount of time they spent together in the studio and while on tour. Andre had mentioned that his family — which consisted of his mother and several siblings — lived in San Diego, but beyond that, he hadn’t been forthcoming about their sexes, ages, interests, marital statuses, or anything else. He had no idea if Andre’s father was in the picture, where Andre had gone to school, or even who his friends outside the band might be.
The lack of information sometimes drove Dmitri a little crazy, because hewantedto know. He wanted to be a part of Andre’s life, his inner circle, and to discover if the chemistry between them, which had been there from the very beginning, was as strong as Dmitri felt it was. But Dmitri’s training in psychology — he’d left grad school before completing his doctorate to join the F-Holes — as well as his own natural empathy made him hesitate to push. There was something in Andre that had been hurt deeply, something he wasn’t over.Beyond offers of a listening ear and as much friendship as Andre would accept, Dmitri had never pushed, not wanting to make Andre uncomfortable to the point where Dmitri lost his friendship or made things awkward, considering how closely they had to work together. He just hoped that someday Andre would let down his walls enough to allow Dmitri in.
So here he was, waiting again, but this time he was worried as well. Whatever had been in that letter, it sure as hell hadn’t been good news.
The question of those mysterious, disturbing contents had bothered Dmitri all night. He’d overheard Greg saying it had come to the Headcrash offices, which wasn’t a standard place for any of the band’s correspondence to show up. Obviously Andre hadn’t been expecting whatever it had been, since he hadn’t opened the letter at once, and whoever had sent it either hadn’t known Andre well enough to have the address of his apartment, or the sender had some other reason for wanting others to know that Andre had received it by sending it to a place where it would have to pass through several sets of hands. It was probably paranoid to read nefarious intent into such a simple vehicle as a letter, but Dmitri’s instincts told him it was bad.
Dmitri had never seen Andre as agitated as he’d been after opening it, which suggested the contents were of a very personal nature, which immediately made him wonder if Andre had a stalker. But if that was the case, surely Andre would have let Dmitri know, wouldn’t he? There was no reason to keep something like that to himself; he’d surely mention it for not only his own security, but that of the entire band. Yet he trusted Andre not to put the rest of them at risk, so maybe it was more like information that someone he’d known had passed away — upsetting, certainly, but not dangerous.
There were, of course, no satisfactory answers to be had without talking to Andre, which was why Dmitri was about to wear a hole in the carpet if Andre didn’t arrive soon.
“Yo, Dmitri, what’s got you so wound up?” Kris asked as she passed by, heading toward Jo and carrying two cups of coffee. She frowned at him. “I’ve never seen you like this, not even when Luka used to go off about none of us being on tempo.”
Taking a deep breath, Dmitri ran a hand through his hair. They all called Kris the band mom, and they said it with affection. Most of the time, at least. It was proof that nature had fucked up assigning her male at birth, because she was as maternal as anyone Dmitri had ever known, including his own mother. She was also protective of all of them and a great listener who always had calm, rational advice to offer. She also didn’t miss much when it came to the rest of the band.
“It’s Andre,” he said. He wasn’t breaking any confidences, since there weren’t any to break. “We went out for something to eat after practice last night, and when I went off to the bathroom, he opened that letter Greg gave him yesterday. I came back to find him staring at it like it was a scorpion, but when I asked, he put it away, made an excuse, and fled like he was being chased by demons.”
Kris tilted her head to one side, obviously considering. “So… something in the letter spooked him. Probably bad news, right? But he wasn’t expecting it, or he never would have opened it in front of you. He’s as private a person as anyone I know, other than maybe Luka, and if he’d known whatever it was would lead to him having a bit of a public freak out, he never would have done it.”
“My thoughts exactly,” Dmitri nodded. “I texted him last night, and he said he was fine, but yeah, I’m worried about him. I’m worried it could be something bad he feels like he can’t share with the rest of us for some reason.”
“So you’re wanting to help him, but not wanting to push it in case he shuts you out, right?” Kris gave him a shrewd look, then lowered her voice. “Look, it doesn’t take a genius to know that you have a thing for him. I’ve watched you dance around it for years, and yeah, I’ve seen how he looks at you sometimes, too. At least when he thinks no one is watching. But there’s something with him that’s holding him back.”
Dmitri looked at her in surprise, and a little flame of hope was kindled in him. “You have? I mean, he does?”
Kris chuckled and shook her head. “You forget Jo is our photographer, and she’s caught both of you out in candids, so yeah, there’s evidence.” Something must have shown on his face, because she smiled. “Don’t worry, she would never put them out in public. But be careful, Dmitri. Even more careful than Kit was with Luka. I don’t know who or what hurt Andre or what complications he’s got going on, but he obviously doesn’t trust any of us enough to share it.”
Sighing, Dmitri looked at her somberly. “So what do I do? I hate not being able to help him.”
“You have to let him come to you when he’s ready. In the meantime, I’ll keep an eye out,” Kris promised quietly. “If I see or hear anything, I’ll let you know, but otherwise, it’s his life, right? He’s entitled to his secrets, Dmitri. Just like the rest of us. If he’s anything like Luka, pushing at him will just make him more determined not to say anything. Sometimes you just have to let people work shit out alone until they are ready to ask for your help.”
“Yeah, I know.” With a sigh, Dmitri forced himself to take several steps away from the door. Fretting himself into a basket case wouldn’t help Andre or himself, and might even make things worse. The best he could do would be to let Andre know he was there for him if needed. But secretly Dmitri promisedhimself that if things looked dangerous for Andre, he’d stomp boundaries to help and deal with the consequences later.
A few minutes later, Luka and Kit arrived, and shortly after that, much to Dmitri’s relief, Andre walked in. He looked like crap, as though he hadn’t slept, but at least he was there, where Dmitri could keep an eye on him.
“Hey,” he greeted Andre as his friend headed toward his drum kit. Dmitri kept his tone casual, but he surreptitiously searched Andre’s face for any sign of what was bothering him.
“Hey.” Andre sounded as tired as he looked, and the lopsided smile he offered didn’t reach anywhere near his eyes.
Dmitri was about to ask him how he was doing, but Luka was apparently impatient to get started with their practice and called them to attention. It only added to Dmitri’s frustration.
As unobtrusively as possible, Dmitri kept as close a watch on Andre as he could. It was easy to see that Andre was distracted and worried, and he seemed to be going through his drum parts almost by rote. The difference didn’t escape Luka either, if the way Luka kept frowning was any indication. Of course, with Luka’s musicality and focus, he would notice any difference in the playing of anyone in the band, but for some reason, Luka wasn’t calling Andre out on it, which was rather strange.
As they broke for lunch, Andre stood and made a beeline for the door, leaving quickly before Dmitri could even put down his bow. Chagrined, he stared after him, wondering if he should just wait or run to catch up before Andre got out of the building.
Then Kris, ever the most vocal of them, spoke up. “What the fuck? What was that all about?” She turned to look at Luka. “I know you noticed he wasn’t at his best, but you didn’t say a word. What gives?”
Luka raised a brow. “He texted me this morning saying that he wasn’t feeling well, and he’d run out at lunch to grabsomething for it. I know I can be an asshole, but I don’t think I’ve ever called anyone out for being sick.”
“Sick?” Kris asked, but Dmitri caught her eye and shook his head, hoping she wouldn’t push it. She gave a small sigh, but fortunately dropped the subject.
A tray of sandwiches had been delivered while they had been practicing, but Dmitri didn’t feel much like eating. He sat off to one side and pulled out his phone. He hesitated, staring at it indecisively, wanting to text Andre and ask if he was okay. But like Kris had said, pushing might make Andre pull away more, which would defeat the purpose if he really needed help. Not to mention that he didn’t think for a moment that Andre was actually sick, except perhaps with worry.
Finally, he typed, “Sorry you’re not feeling well, let me know if you need any help.” It wasn’t much, but hopefully it would help Andre know the door was open.
“Hey, Dmitri! Time for more practice,” Luka called out. “We need to go over the bridge in ‘Stand Up.’ It’s not as crisp as I’d like.”
