But my hands tensed slightly where they rested against his neck, my thoughts drifting to the bedside drawer. To the small orange bottle tucked out of sight.
And I wondered if he’d still say that if he knew what I was keeping from him.
Something about the Milan show felt different.
I couldn’t tell if it was because of the secret band meeting, or if they were just glad to be back onstage after a few days off. But the performance crackled with energy, and the crowd fed on it like a live wire. Riff and Mick played like their guitars were extensions of their bodies, headbanging so hard it gave me whiplash just watching them. Ghost’s fingers flew across the keys, relentless and precise, while Thump battered the drums like they’d personally wronged him.
And Bodhi . . .
He threw himself around the stage like a man possessed. Even during songs I knew weren’t his favourites, the ones where his energy usually dipped, he went all in. By the middle of the set, he was drenched in sweat, his voice raw from screaming lyrics into the void.
But it was his face that held me.
His mouth was split into a wide, almost feral grin, blue eyes blazing under the stage lights. During a song about burning out too young and surviving anyway, he dropped to his knees, and one of the artful rips in his jeans tore wider than it was meant to. Blood welled from a small cut, darkening the denim, but he didn’t even flinch. He just stomped his feet, clapped his hands, and kept moving like pain had no jurisdiction over him tonight.
“We were kings of the moment, till the moment broke us.
Back when we were loud, I thought I’d stay that young.”
He was exhilarated. High on adrenaline instead of chemicals. And he’d never looked more alive. More present. I wanted to run onto the stage, crash into his chest, and kiss him in front of the fifteen thousand fans packed into the Unipol Forum.
I wasn’t the only one who noticed.
Clara stood beside me in the wings, eyes wide, mouth slightly open.
“Jesus,” she breathed. “I haven’t seen them play like this in... years.”
“They’re amazing,” I said, because it was the only word that fit.
She didn’t know about the meeting. Didn’t know what had shifted beneath the surface. And it wasn’t my place to tell her. For all I knew, this had nothing to do with plans or ultimatums. Maybe they were just in a good mood. Maybe the stars had aligned.
But when it came to Bodhi, I didn’t think it was accidental.
“If I could talk to that kid again, I wouldn’t tell him to slow it down.
I’d just say, ‘Hold on to something real before the noise drowns it out.’”
Watching him now, it felt like he’d woken from a long, heavy sleep. Like he wasn’t running on muscle memory anymore, wasn’t coasting through a set he’d played a hundred times before.
This wasn’t just a good show.
This was transcendence.
He sang like he was tearing himself open. Like he was cracking his ribs apart and offering his heart to the crowd, unapologetic and still beating.
His excitement was contagious, adrenaline flickering beneath my skin like static, threatening to overwhelm the second pill I’d taken just before the show began. Both chemicals tangled together in my veins, sharpening my senses. The world felt soft-edged and bright, like someone had turned the saturation up just a little too high.
Everything felt incredible.
When the show ended, the lights went out, but the ringing in my ears lingered. The buzz in my bones mixed with the residual thrill from the dispersing crowd, making my heart pound. Christ, it felt like I’d taken an upper. Like I’d snorted a line or two. Maybe even a Viagra, judging by the semi I was sporting. After watching Bodhi for the last ninety minutes, I was ready to crawl out of my skin and climb him like a tree.
And then he appeared backstage.
Sweat-soaked. Chest heaving. That same wild grin still carved across his face.
He looked... unlocked. Free in a way I’d never seen before. Not better than the version I knew. Just new. Fresh. Like a skin he’d always been meant to grow into.
Our eyes met, and his conversation with Riff cut off mid-sentence. Everything else fell away, like the world had narrowed to this one pocket of air backstage. Bodhi moved first. I followed. But he was faster. One second I was watching him leave his friend behind. The next, he was crashing into me, hot and breathless. His arms wrapped around my upper body, too tight and too loose all at once, a faint tremor running through him and into me.
