Marc’s eyes widened and his heart stopped for an entire second.Such a fucking low blow. With everything she had gone through lately, just because she’d had a few good days, he didn’t need to use it against her. Chris was definitely out of himself.
“You’re an asshole,” she shouted.
“What? You’re the only one allowed to have problems? When you get your head out of your ass and stop being so fucking selfish, maybe,maybethen I’ll let you give me a lesson on how to behave.”
Leah gasped, and Marc could see the tears forming in her eyes. He wanted to kick Chris so bad right now. But he didn’t move an inch. Didn’t want things worse than they already were.
“Okay, dude. Drop it.” Erik shoved Chris’s chest backwards. “I don’t fucking care what happened between you two anymore. You can’t go around hurting everyone else just because you have a problem.”
“She can defend herself, you know.”
“Let him be,” Marc said with a defeated sigh. Chris hating him was one thing. Him ripping their friends apart for something that wasn’t even their fault was a very different one he couldn’t stand. There was no point in continuing with this. Chris was clinging to his obstinacy and fear, and would not listen to reason. “He’s a fucking baby and doesn’t know how to deal with his emotions when they slap him in the face.”
“Go fuck yourself, Zimmer,” Chris spewed the words and stormed away.
“Same,” he said as he pushed himself off the bus and walked in the opposite direction.
“Marc, wait,” Leah called when the bassist wiped his nose with the back of his hand. He wasn’t bleeding, but it was feeling almost as wet as his eyes.
“Leave me alone.”
With the world crumbling around him with every step, Marc took a deep breath. What hurt the most out of all this wasn’t the hatred leaking from each word Chris had spoken, it was that, even if he’d always looked supportive of Marc and had never cared about his sexuality, something deep down bothered him about it all. Why would he feel such aversion towards the idea of being like him otherwise?
Chris wasn’t homophobic, at least not in the conscious part of his mind. Though, just like many people, he seemed to have abuthanging from the tip of his tongue he’d never dared to voice. Was this how he had felt about Marc all along? Was he really as grossed out as he’d just shown?
His heart smashed against his ribs. Just once, but enough to fuck itself up.
Thoughts like open wounds bled and his nervous system collapsed, flaring up a reality he’d never wanted to look in the eye.
Maybe, as much as it hurt to let go, it was time to give up.
12. Somebody
August7th,2017
Orlando, Florida
Twat.Fucking knuckle-dragging twat.
That was all Chris could think of while staring at the empty void in front of him in the darkness. Those bunks sure were like a time capsule where nothing but you existed—save for those times when Leah opened the curtain and sprayed everything with that damn floral air freshener she brought with her whenever they were going to be on the road.
Leah. Fuck.
After the spiteful outburst he’d had with her—with everyone—that day he had drunk all the alcohol available in Miami, he hadn’t talked to her. They had performed three times in Florida, but that was as far as their interactions had gone. Every time they were offstage, like the coward he was, Chris had crawled into his bunk or the back lounge when it was empty and hid from the world.
His emotions were skewed and all over the place. While he didn’t care about other people getting intimate with their same gender, the idea of doing it himself had made him cringe more than once. Other times, he’d felt like an intruder. Since he had been fucking around with women his whole life, all this confusion could simply be his greedy ass needing something new. If that were the case, instead of supporting the community, all he’d do by coming out as queer was reinforce the wrong stereotypes of bisexual people being easy and slutty.
However, when he stopped thinking so much and focused on what Marc had made him feel that night, the sensation of living in a different normality vanished. The bassist wasn’t only a pretty thing to look at. He was a talented musician, smart, funny, caring, and loyal like only a few. Anyone would be lucky if they had him falling for them.
Chris sighed. Now, on top of this jumbled mess of sentiments and thoughts that kept tossing and turning in his head, he was also ashamed of having been the biggest asshole towards his best friend.
Of all the people, she was the last one he should have taken it out on. Why the hell had he said all those hateful things? He didn’t think any of them were true. Sure, he’d been anxious with all this strange reality expanding before him like a fucking proverbial epiphany. Drunk or not, he felt cornered when Marc had grabbed him. The closeness of that man had a completely new meaning, and it scared the shit out of him. But that was no reason to be a scumbag.
With a frustrated huff, Chris reached for the pocket hanging above his head in the bunk, where he kept his phone.
9:41 AM. Too early for his lazy ass to get up on a day off.
Hearing his bandmates getting ready to go to the Kennedy Space Center with Dark Omen, only reaffirmed his idea of not going outside yet.
