“So, how was the last tour?”
“It was good.”
“New Zealand and Australia, no?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s crazy.”
Marc snickered. “Yeah.”Do you know any more words?
“I love seeing that Buried Alive is doing so well, seriously.” Viktor offered him a smile filled with fondness and pride.
And why wouldn’t he be happy and proud of them? He might not be part of their little family of weirdos anymore, but he had been there since the beginning, through all the rejections and the small gigs in the crappiest slums. It wasn’t his personal effort that got them there, but he’d seen them grow.
“You deserve every bit of recognition,” he continued. “Not only have you fought with everything you have, but you’ve actually gotten better with time. Your sound is more yours than ever, if that makes sense.”
“How—”
“Like I told you, I’ve been following the band,” Viktor said as he opened the door and motioned for Marc to go in first. Always a gentleman. “I also watched one of the Burn to Rise gigs.”
“The one in Austin, I bet.” The bassist chuckled. “It has the most views on YouTube.”
“Yeah, I think it was that one. The chemistry the four of you have on stage… Insane. Just insane.”
“Guess we were inspired that day,” Marc mumbled as they left their coats in the reception area.
“Do you have any other big concerts coming up, aside from Wacken and the whole summer tour here in Europe?”
“We’re going to South America in January.”
“Oh, yeah. I think I saw something about that on your Instagram.”
As they walked down one of the gallery’s long corridors, the conversations about Buried Alive’s latest achievements went on. Marc couldn’t focus on Viktor’s words, though. He was trying to pay attention to his surroundings; the large picture frames lined on either side of the hallway, the suspended light bulbs, and the dark floorings that smelled of money. But nothing muted the voices in his head.
How could Viktor be so chill? It had been a long time, yet Marc expected at least a bit of uneasiness. After almost a decade together, and with the way things had ended, there was no hint of regret for having treated him like shit. He’d apologized through emails, but had he seriously forgiven himself so easily? Shame would eat the bassist alive if he did something like that. Though he certainly wouldn’t have had the balls to reach out to his ex and ask them to meet, either.
“So, here it is,” Viktor gestured with both hands as they entered one of the halls.
With his mouth agape, Marc scanned the dimmed room. He had seen what this man was capable of in the past, but this was magnificent. There was a structure in the middle that reminded him of something between a spiderweb and a tornado. It trapped you. And around it, the rest of the sculptures were placed in a way that drew some sort of spiral, radiating from the shiny whirlwind.
It was all so beautiful, with its perfectly planned illumination. Everything had its designated spot, and knowing Viktor, there was probably a reason behind it, too. Every little detail was so tasteful that the abstract shapes and coldness of the metal alloys made the entire space look connected. Immaculate. Emotive. In silence, it was telling a story.
“This is incredible.”
“I’m glad you like it.” He smiled. “Do you want anything to drink?” he asked as a waiter approached them with a tray full of glasses.
“Sure.”
Grabbing two flutes of champagne, Viktor handed one to Marc. “So, how’s everyone doing?”
“You mean the band or my family?”
“Both.”
“Erik just quit his job to focus solely on the band. Leah and Chris”—a spark ignited inside of him the moment that name rolled off his tongue—“are as wild as you probably remember, and the rest haven’t changed much. Well, Luca became a dad a few months ago.”
“That’s awesome to hear. He’s always wanted to have kids.”
