13. It's Not Over
August16th,2017
Salt Lake City, Utah
Almost three weekshad passed since Marc and Chris had touched for the first time. Two since their awful fight.
Things were still weird between them, but the guitarist had been trying to get closer again. It was obvious in the way he looked at Marc and how he’d made approaches, flashing awkward smiles and starting small talk with him. He wanted to apologize, yet he couldn’t bring himself to do it.
Something was boiling in his mind. Something that had forced the balance of their dynamics to sway off its axis.
They were okay, though. Their friendship had suffered a hard blow, but it wasn’t the first time they got caught up in a fight. Chris was impulsive as fuck. His behavior had gotten the crew in trouble more than once, which had resulted in them arguing or throwing a few punches. No harsh feelings. They were better at expressing themselves with their fists than with words some days.
As much as Marc would have liked to hold a grudge against Chris for the way he’d treated him, he knew his friend. This wasn’t a normal situation where he’d talked back and insulted the wrong person. All that had happened sinceD-nighthad been nothing but a desperate attempt at protecting himself from everything he was feeling. Whether it’d been just a slip or he was really into dudes, Chris had to be struggling after carrying thestraightlabel pinned on his forehead for so long. One didn’t have to be a genius to see it.
Marc understood his need to organize what he wanted to say without fucking things up even more. But, if he had to be honest, he would have loved for Chris to cut the crap. The forced smiles and awkward conversations only made the pink elephant in the room even bigger every time they were alone.
“Morning,” Erik said, disconnecting Marc from the loop of thoughts that had been spinning for days.
“Hey.”
“Brought you coffee.” The drummer offered as he sat beside him on the bench and slid the cup onto the table.
Marc had already had a coffee that morning, but this one was from the food trucks where they could grab a free breakfast every day. “Thanks.”Freshly made and with a little cinnamon, so good.
“Sure.”
Sitting side by side, they sipped their coffees in silence, but the energy of curiosity with a dash of annoyance emanating from Erik was too loud to ignore. It had been like that for days, but no one in the crew had dared to ask. It was as if they were waiting for either Chris or Marc to speak up.
“Ask away,” the bassist said with a sigh, tired of this strange, polite dance everyone was doing around the pair.
“What?”
“What is it you wanna know?” Marc asked, looking at him out of the corner of his eye as he placed his cup down on the table.
“Hmm…” The drummer scanned the area surrounding them.
They were stationed in the parking lot of the concert field, but it was too early on a day off to unload the trailer and set up the temporary camp, so Marc sat at the picnic bench closest to their bus. They were alone, yet knowing how discreet Erik was, he was probably just making sure no one could eavesdrop in case the bassist wanted to keep it all private.
“How are you?”
Marc turned to face him completely, eyebrows almost touching his hairline. This dude knew how to be civil even when he was angry, but he hadn’t sat to talk like this with him since the day of the fight. Much less to ask how he was doing. That had definitely been surprising.
“Good… I think.” The tension in his back slightly faded. “You?” Marc slanted his head. “Aren’t you pissed?” He didn’t mean to be so straightforward, but was still too sleepy to function like a normal human being.
“I am, partly.” Erik’s mouth twisted into a frown. “Your personal life is none of my business, but you two know there’s too much at stake to be fucking around with the band like this. Yet you did.” He swirled his coffee like they were discussing the weather. “I’m not a hundred percent sure of what happened, but I have a slight idea, given the things Chris said to you. Honestly, I expected such reckless behavior from him, but not from you.”
“Yeah, because I’m supposed to be the adult here and behave when no one else does, right?” Marc snapped, feeling defensive. He hadn’t planned on giving Chris a BJ, let alone for everything to blow up the way it had.
“Who doesn’t behave, Marc?” Erik let out a long puff of air. “We all try our best, and I thought it was implicit in the several conversations we’ve had over the years that screwing a member of the crew wasn’t a good idea…”
“If this is why you came here, you can leave, dude. I don’t need anyone disturbing my peace so early in the morning.”
“No, this is not why I came here. You asked, and I answered with honesty. I’m mad at you two, but you’re still family.” His gaze fixed on a distant spot in front of them as he clenched and relaxed his jaw a few times. “Listen,” Erik said, looking at him again, “no matter how pissed or worried about the band I am, I really just wanted to know how you’re doing.” His shoulders slumped down, defeated. “I still care about you and—”
“You know,” Marc started, cutting him off, “I wasn’t being reckless.” He paused to light up a cig. “I might have been too caught up to think straight because blood was nowhere near my brain. Can’t deny that. Though it wasn’t just the heat of the moment. Not for me, anyway.”
“What?” Erik’s brows creased together.
