Bodhi stretched out beside me, our bodies aligned from shoulder to toe, close enough that there wasn’t a single inch ofspace between us. He grabbed the remote from the bedside table and turned on the TV, then unlocked his phone. A few taps later, the animated show playing on his screen appeared on the TV instead.
“Why are we watching cartoons?” I asked.
“It’s not cartoons, it’s anime,” he grumbled, and I had the distinct sense he was pouting.
An American-accented voice filled the room, and a red-haired guy holding a skateboard appeared on screen. “What’s it about?”
I yawned and rested my head against Bodhi’s shoulder, the lingering exhaustion catching up to me now that my body had finally relaxed. He lifted his arm and draped it around me, letting me settle in more comfortably.
“It’s calledSk8 the Infinity,” he said. “It’s about this group of skaters who compete in secret races. Then this new guy shows up—he used to be a snowboarder—and he ends up being super good.”
I knew I should’ve been watching the screen, but I stole a glance at Bodhi instead. He was more animated than I’d ever seen him, smiling without realising it as he talked through the characters and the story. It was pretty fucking adorable, watching a man who looked like a god onstage get this excited about a Japanese cartoon.
I forced my attention back to the TV. “Sounds like you’ve seen this before.”
“A couple of times,” he said, clearing his throat before mumbling, “It’s my favourite.”
I grinned and curled further into his side just as a blue-haired guy wiped out spectacularly on a skateboard while his red-haired friend laughed his ass off.
“Then I can’t wait to love it too.”
I couldn’t see Bodhi’s face, but the way he squeezed my side told me everything I needed to know.
He was happy.
Day two was another day off. For me, at least. The boys had a packed schedule over the next forty-eight hours: a fan meet-and-greet in a pop-up shop crammed with exclusive merch today, then a photoshoot and radio interview tomorrow. After that, it was two shows back to back before hauling ass to Prague for a single night.
I only had to do the guys’ makeup before the meet-and-greet, and once that was done, I was free as a bird. I lingered in the shop for a while, watching them pose for photos and chat with fans. It was strangely entertaining, seeing people squeal and trip over themselves just to exist within arm’s reach of the band. When you liked a celebrity enough, it was easy to forget they were just normal people underneath the stage lights and curated mystique.
After a quick lunch break, I ditched the boys and wandered Berlin at my own pace. My hip felt better after a proper night’s sleep in a real bed. I hadn’t taken any more Tylenol, sticking to ice packs and heat pads instead while Bodhi and I burned through more episodes of his favourite anime. We’d made it eight episodes deep and ordered room service before we both started drifting off, and he’d left with a sleepy, soft “goodnight” that still made my chest feel warm hours later.
I’d just had my photo taken at Checkpoint Charlie when my phone rang. Bodhi’s name flashed across the screen.
“Everything okay?” I asked.
“Yeah, um...” He trailed off, and my brows knit together.
“Bodhi—”
“The guys wanna go to the KitKatClub tonight.”
“And you want to go?”
“I mean, I guess?” he said. “It’s been a while since I’ve really hung out with them between shows, and...”
“And you miss them,” I finished.
“Yes,” he sighed. “And I know it’s probably a bad idea.”
That felt like an understatement. I didn’t know exactly what the KitKatClub was, but judging by the band’s track record, it was almost certainly a club, and clubs weren’t exactly sober-friendly environments. Still, I understood where he was coming from. Bodhi was used to unwinding with his bandmates, and the list of things he could comfortably do with them had shrunk drastically since he got clean.
“Riff doesn’t want me to go,” he added quietly.
“But you do.”
“I just want to be there,” he said, frustration creeping in. “I don’t want everyone making concessions for me all the time. I want to walk into a club, not drink, not take anything, and still enjoy myself with my friends. I want us to have a good time without knowing it was planned around my recovery.”
“Are you worried?” I asked, because it felt like the right thing to do.
