“Fuck, dude, I’m still grooving.” Chris lit his cig, his hands already turning red. It was cold, but notthatcold. His skin was just that weird. “I can’t believe Angie got us to perform on one of the main stages at Wacken.”
“Yeah, I’m so fucking pumped I think I’m gonna be drained by then.” Marc blew a cloud of smoke.
“For real.” Chris stared into his eyes and smiled as snippets from the past rushed through his mind.
The stupid jokes they cracked as if they were trapped in the minds of ten-year-old boys. The arguments when they didn’t agree on the arrangements for a song. The ego fights that were the bread and butter of every band—especially at the beginning. The disappointment of the rejections. The personal struggles that hampered it all at times. The grin on Erik’s face when he stormed into the rehearsal room and told them he had arranged their firstrealofficial concert at a decent venue. It was all so vivid.
Chris could even remember a conversation he’d had with Marc at a Halloween party as if it’d happened yesterday, although it had been almost four years before…
“Wanna talk about it?” Chris had asked, trying to focus on his friend’s obvious concern and not on the sudden reactions his body was having to his presence.
Sure, the bassist was looking extremely attractive dressed as a vampire that night, with his insanely long black hair and handsome features. Masculine, yet with a delicate touch. Tall, with just the perfect amount of muscle definition. Mysterious. Perfect straight nose… Intense, dark eyes… Sharp, clean-shaven jaw… And skin soft like fucking porcelain.
Fuck me.Chris shook his head. It had to be the MDMA. That shit made him horny for no reason.
“You really are high…” Marc tittered, sliding into a sigh at the end. “It’s Viktor.”
“What happened?”
“Ever since he left, he has been acting even more strange than the last few weeks when we were still together. Some days he seems fine, but then he looks so depressed… And I don’t know what to do to cheer him up.”
“Well, Alzheimer’s can be really devastating…” Chris shrugged, letting smoke out through his nostrils. “It must be hard seeing his mom like that.”
“I’m not saying it isn’t hard, but I wish he’d talk to me,” Marc said while stepping on the stub of his cigarette he had just dropped on the ground.
“I get what you mean… But maybe he needs to process things before he can articulate how he’s feeling.”
No, this wasn’t the drugs or the alcohol talking. Usually closed-off, when he was in this odd, floating state, Chris was more open to having deep conversations. It was as if the walls he had built disappeared and he could let this part of himself be.
“If he opened up to me, maybe I could help somehow,” Marc said after a brief silence.
“I bet you’re already helping him.”
“It doesn’t feel like it. Especially not now with thousands of kilometers separating us. I know that all this is troubling him, that he barely sleeps anymore, no matter how hard he tries to hide it. But he’s shut down... I hate this sensation, this… being so useless when he needs me the most.”
“Maybe what he needs is exactly what you’re offering right now.”
“What? My lovely presence in the distance?” Marc bitterly snorted.
Chris took a drag from his cig. “Want my honest opinion?”
“Yeah, why would I be telling you all this if I didn’t?”
“You’re being selfish.”
“Eh… Okay?” The bassist raised a brow, dark eyes narrowing on the guitarist.
“I’m not saying you’re a selfish person, but you are acting like one right now by making this about you. Of course you’re allowed to feel all kinds of things. Seeing someone you love suffering and not being able to help is not easy. But Viktor is dealing with the impending loss of his mom and he needs to find a way to cope with it. He may be the type who usually talks, but this is probably nothing like he has ever gone through before… Just give him time.”
Marc bit the inside of his cheek, looking ahead of them. “Maybe you’re right.”
“It might sound stupid, but I bet your good morning texts, or whatever sappy shit you guys do, are more than enough for him to know that he’s not alone”
The bassist stared at Chris in silence, then cackled out of the blue. “What the hell did you take?”
“What?” he asked.
“Where is all this wisdom and empathy coming from?” Marc gestured with his palm, outlining Chris’s frame, grinning.
