And now, instead of being inside the nightclub with his friends, having fun and drinking as if his liver was immortal, here he was, sitting on a bench on the rooftop terrace, smoking. Alone.
It was laughable that he was so conflicted. He’d always considered himself open-minded. Turns out he was only another heterosexist pathetic asshole hidden behind fake words of encouragement or support. Well, maybe not. He’d never felt repulsed by people of the same gender making out and enjoyed watching MMF porn—a homophobic person wouldn’t be able to deal with that. But he was mad like he hadn’t been in a long while, that was for sure. Especially since Marc seemed so unphased by it all. He had performed perfectly in the morning, and his playful self was also shining inside the club as he’d been talking with one and the other as if nothing had happened. Then again, why would he be weirded out about any of it? He liked men and was apparently attracted to Chris.
What the fucking fuck? Since when?
His confession hadn’t caught him completely by surprise, but a part of him had felt like the bassist had slapped him across the face anyhow. People didn’t need to be in love or even like a person’s personality to screw them, but you sure needed to have some sort of physical attraction for that, right? Did that mean that Chris was—
Oh fuck, that. I’m not attracted to Marc. He’s my fucking friend. Is? Was?
Chris blankly stared at the stub of his cig in his fingers. The simple thought of putting it out on the back of his hand was already reducing the pressure on his lungs. He couldn’t do it, though. He knew better than that. That would only push him into a negative cycle of distress he didn’t need at the moment.
“Ugh!” he grumbled, distracted by the music getting louder as someone opened the door.
When he turned his head, he saw Marc—of course—walking out with Oliver, the drummer of Absolute Zero, the Aussie band. That dude was pretty chill and fun to be around, but he didn’t know what personal space was. He was clearly interested in Leah, Astrid, and Taylor… And apparently in Marc, too, judging by the way he was standing in front of him now with that flirty attitude of his. He just needed to stick his cock out to be more obvious. Or was Chris overreacting?
Why do you care?
“Fuck,” he gritted, feeling like whacking himself. Good thing they had walked over to the other side of the terrace and hadn’t seen him.
Shaking his head and huffing, he tossed the stub to the ground as he stood up and stepped on it, ready to go back inside.
As he got closer to them, Marc looked in his direction while taking a drag from his cigarette. Their gazes crossed for a moment as the guitarist opened the red metal door, and time froze. There was fear, sadness, and other things swirling in the depths of those eyes that made him feel like family and a stranger all at once. But he would not stay there to analyze how he was feeling while watching them fool around and sucking each other’s faces, if it came to that. He had no idea if Oli was into dudes, too.
Whatever. Chris didn’t care.
Once the door closed behind him, enhanced by the harsh melodies of metal music blasting through the speakers, the confusing mess of thoughts vibrated through him like an electric shock. The guitarist clenched his jaw. Usually, this volume would have drowned the voices in his head and helped him ignore the violent thumping in his chest. Not tonight.
Leah launched herself into his arms. “You’re back!”
“And you’re drunk!” He stifled a laugh. It was as if someone had drained every ounce of happiness from his body.
“Yeah, I’m taking her to the bus,” Søren said with a chuckle, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her tight against him.
“You gonna fuck me?” she asked, flashing him what she probably thought was a sexy smirk but was really just inebriated smugness.
“If you can undress yourself without falling flat on your ass, maybe.”
“Challenge accepted.” She pressed her face to his chest, clinging to his tee like it was a life raft.
Chris shook his head, grinning. Leah tried to not drink much when the Norse frontman was around out of respect for him. The man didn’t seem to have issues anymore, but he’d only been clean for a little over four years and it was probably still hard for him to stay stronger than the compulsive need that had pushed him into the addiction when he was younger. Yet some days she tried to match his speed at drinking, even though he stuck to sodas, and this was the result—him sober, and her drunk off her ass.
“Anyway,” Søren said. “You good?” He tilted his head, offering an understanding look.
“Could be better, but yeah.” Chris nodded.
“We have your back. You know that, right?”
Something inside of him leaped and warmth spread across his chest. Even after having been a pain in the ass the entire day, his friends were still his friends. He was one lucky bastard.
“Thanks, man.” Chris patted his shoulder. “Now, go or she won’t make it to tomorrow.”
“I don’t know how she’s still conscious.” The Norseman laughed.
Although the buses wouldn’t be leaving until two in the morning, they always needed to be there half an hour earlier, so everyone should leave the nightclub around one, tops, and it was almost midnight. Normally, Chris would have followed them. He had nothing to do there other than to continue sulking. But he wanted to use every minute he had left to get as drunk as his best friend, and to have at least a few hours of sleep without waking up to overthink every little decision he’d made throughout his life. He would worry about the hangover the next day.
“Okay, then. See you in the morning.” Søren squeezed his shoulder and walked down the stairs on the opposite side of the club, dragging Leah with him.
As soon as they were out of his sight, Chris leaned against a wall and scanned the place. Erik was engrossed in a conversation with the other members of Dark Omen. The Aussies were playing pool with some musicians from another band. And, in the middle of this loud space, the guitarist felt smaller than ever. The world was spinning around fast, with him stuck in a spot between two different dimensions.
