Theskywaspaintedan intense shade of orange when the rest of Dark Omen, Erik, and Marc returned. They sure had a blast. The wide grins on everyone’s faces and loud laughter said as much.
Chris shifted uncomfortably in his seat as he watched them approach. After spending the day with Søren and Leah, hanging out by the pool, drinking, eating, and playing cards with just the Norseman because his bestie hated those games, facing everyone had been overwhelming.
No one had mentioned anything about his pathetic behavior four days before. None of them had treated him differently the few times they had crossed paths. But the clarity that articulating his sentiments had provided made him a lot more aware of the reactions his body had in the presence of Marc. Though now, more than peace with a brush of arousal, it was nervousness and embarrassment. Maybe he hadn’t voiced the words to Leah, but he definitely needed to apologize to the bassist.
“Yo,” Ian, the lead guitarist of Dark Omen, tossed as he sat in the chair beside Chris. “I’m fucking dead, dudes and dudette. I just wanna eat something and tuck myself into bed for two days.”
“Not a chance,” Søren said. “We’re going to Universal Studios tomorrow and right after that is New Orleans.”
“My fave city.” Ian sighed. “You feeling any better?” he asked Leah.
“Yeah, my stomach has been behaving for the last few hours.”
As they kept chit-chatting, Chris got up to help the others gather some more chairs and another table so they could all sit together. In between the hustle and bustle of metal scraping on the stone flooring and the musicians being loud as fuck, his gaze crossed a few times with Marc’s. Neither of them said a word. Even so, he could read the confusion in the bassist’s eyes. Not only had they not talked at all in days, but he hadn’t had the balls to even look him in the face. Coward, yeah, yeah.
Now, however, as awkward and unnerving as it felt, Chris couldn’t help himself. It was as if a piece of art had always been in front of him and he was just now finding all these new colors, shapes, and meaning in the delicate yet intricate brushstrokes. Marc was still the man he’d met ten years before, but, at the same time, he wasn’t, and it was haunting.
Shaking his head to get rid of the fuss swirling in his brain, the guitarist was about to return to his seat beside Leah when said assclown flashed him a sinister smirk and pulled Erik’s tee, forcing him down on the chair.
“So, drummer of my heart, you promised you’d bring me something from the space center.” She grinned, her gaze shifting to Chris for a second before going back to their friend. “What is it? A cap? A t-shirt?”
“A mug, of course.” Erik chuckled. “How are you, though?”
The guitarist narrowed his eyes at her but gave up on the fight he wanted to put up. Was exhausted of that crap. Even if he ended up sitting beside Marc, it wasn’t like at school, when Chris and his archenemy would get detention and he’d become an annoying gremlin, poking the other boy’s back until he snapped. He could behave like an adult and be civil… sometimes.
“Oh fuck, sorry,” he mumbled when he bumped into the bassist.
“It’s fine,” he said as they did this weird dance where both of them tried to go around the other, stepping to the right, then the left, several times until Marc gripped his shoulders and dragged the guitarist towards one of the only two free chairs that were side by side. Of course. His life had turned into such a cliché. “There you go.” Marc let out a brief snicker and walked over to Leah, crouching in front of her and giving her knee a squeeze.
He and Erik had most likely talked with her before leaving that morning and were just checking on her now, after she had probably told them the same thing she’d told Søren—to go have fun. They always did this. Their band, including the techs, was definitely more than a business. Chris loved the adoration they all had for each other.
Sometime later, when the bassist was already sitting beside him, the waitress came and took everyone’s orders, making a few trips to bring the drinks and these really tall, grilled cheese sandwiches.
The conversations and loud laughter continued while the two European groups had dinner together as if there was no one else on the terrace. It felt good to be surrounded by these assholes, even if they were all crammed around the tables. They made life so damn worthy, and way more lively than the solitude Chris had drowned himself in for days.
“Oh shit,” Marc said when some melted cheese fell on his military green pants.
With his mouth full, the guitarist couldn’t hold the chuckle in and handed him a napkin. “Here.”
“Thanks.”
“No prob.” The guitarist nodded, showing him a weak smile while slowly drifting into a peculiar—and kinky—place as he watched him clean the greasy spot right beside his crotch.
It had been years since the first time he had seen the bassist’s cock. And while Chris was still not particularly interested in getting dick, he was intrigued by this one. Couldn’t stop going over and over the images and sensations of their last night together on the bus. To think he would have never looked at another dude like this, and now it was as if he were obsessed.
“Did you just see Jesus on the stain?” Marc’s voice drew him out of his delusion and made his heart ricochet like a bouncy rubber ball.
“W-what?” he stuttered. He fucking stuttered.
Without looking at him, Marc chuckled and scrubbed the paper over his pants a few more times. “You’re being too obvious.” His voice came out low and deep.
His eyes raised, locking with a purpose on the guitarist’s. The wavering confidence Chris had felt a second before disappeared.
“Don’t know what you’re talking about.” He bit his sandwich.
“Sure.” Marc’s lips tugged up into a smirk. “But just so you know,” he said, subduing him and winning a power play he hadn’t realized they were playing with his next words, “I’m very patient.”
Chris wanted to retort with some witty remark, yet he couldn’t. This newly discovered side of him was choppy, uneven, and so fucking weak when it came to the man sitting beside him. He was completely disarmed. Didn’t even own his thoughts anymore.
