So Nick kisses him, slow and sweet, and the crowd absolutely loses it. When they part, Matt’s whole face shines. “I wrote you a song.” The words are said to Nick, though the microphone by their faces picks it up. “You haven’t heard it yet.”
Nick just gapes, stunned.
Matt slides his arm around Nick’s waist and turns back to the crowd. Nick faces them too, those thousands of people, as enraptured with Nick’s boyfriend as he is. Waving flags and flashing phone lights and probably filming this to put on YouTube later. Nick can’t wait to see it.
“So here he is. The guy.Myguy.” Matt’s pride spills out of him like a waterfall as he presses a kiss to Nick’s sweaty temple. “You all know him. You all love him. But not like I love him,” he adds with a wink, and the crowd’s eating up every second of this. Nick still isn’t sure if he’s passed out from the excitement of the day and this is all just a vivid hallucination.
Then Matt turns, guiding Nick to a space a little further back, adjusting the Grand Marshal sash across his chest. “You can stand here,” he instructs. As he backs away, he looks to the crowd again. “God, I’m so nervous. I’ve never done this before. You guys are with me, right? You’ve got my back?”
Screams and whoops split the air, and Matt laughs. “Perfect. Love that. Thank you. So.” He settles in front of the mic stand, where he can perform to both Nick and the crowd at the same time. And his movements might be towards them, but his eyes—his eyes are all Nick’s. “Here’s a little song I wrote, for the love of my life. It’s called ‘Hold My Hand’.”
Immediately, Spencer starts up on the drums, and then Matt’s hands start to fly across his guitar and Nick can feelthe vibrations through his whole body—or maybe that’s just his heart, hammering so hard and so fast he might actually die. He’s vaguely aware of the crowd jumping, a rolling sea of color and movement, but he can’t look away from Matt for anything.
And then Matt starts to sing.
He’s a born performer, absolutelymadefor the stage, but right now it’s just the two of them in the whole entire world. Nick may have stopped breathing, every atom in his body focused on taking in as much of this as physically possible. Matt moves with the music, reaches out a hand towards Nick, smiling wide and swinging his hips a little to entice him. Nick falls, a thousand times, over and over in the three strides it takes him to get to Matt’s side and take his strong, guitar-callused hand. He falls and his heart cracks wide open and all he can do is stand there and smile so hard his face hurts.
Matt lets go of Nick to reclaim his guitar but the connection between them is still as tangible as any embrace; Matt moves and Nick moves with him, taking in the words like each one is being engraved right onto his bones.
The tune feels familiar, and all of a sudden, a realization hits. Nick remembers lying on his back on the floor of his apartment, body bruised but heart melting as he was serenaded by a quiet guitar, Matt humming along with lyrics he wouldn’t yet let Nick hear.
He wrote this song inJanuary. Months ago, back when they couldn’t even call what they had a relationship, back when Nick was so afraid of falling but so far over the edge already. These words, this feeling, this is what Matt’s been keeping inside him for the last nine months.
The crowd, smart cookies that they are, have caught on and are screaming the refrain along with him—tens of thousands of people, singing along to words that were written for Nick. Words that tell the story ofthem—the way they found each other,somehow condensed to a song that reaches right between Nick’s ribs to cradle his heart with the tenderest of hands.
Casey and Joel harmonize on the backing vocals as Matt works his guitar, back arching gloriously and sweat-damp hair falling into his eyes. Then he stops, letting the instrument hang from its strap, reaching out to Nick with both hands as his gaze softens into that affectionate warmth Nick knows so well. He sings the final refrain, voice raw with emotion, eyes glistening with love.
Nick can barely hear the fade-out of the music as the ringing in his ears meshes with the screams of the crowd. His hands tighten around Matt’s and he’s astonished to see his boyfriend actually looksshy, like that wasn’t literally the most romantic fucking thing in the history of human existence.
“Oh my God,” Nick whispers, close enough to the microphone to be heard. The crowd whoops, and Matt chuckles.
“So… what d’you think?” he asks, as wide-eyed and hopeful as a little kid holding out the art project they’ve worked so hard on.
“I’m so in love with you right now,” Nick blurts, and they both grin at each other because apparently this is just going to be a thing whenever Matt sings for him.
“Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!” Spencer starts chanting, the crowd picking up the chant immediately. Nick laughs, looking at Matt, and the dork actually wiggles his eyebrows at him. Nick hauls him into a fierce kiss, trying to remain at least a little aware that they’re in public and on a big screen but mostly just needing this beautiful man to know how utterlygoneon him Nick is.
“I love you,” Nick tells him again, the barest whisper; this one is just for him. Matt’s whole facelights up.
“Love you too, baby.”
With a show still to finish, Matt pulls back and lets Nick go, though he grins lopsidedly. “You can stay and hang out if you want. I can get you a chair. A Grand Marshal throne.”
Nick looks around the stage, spotting a platform of higher staging left from the previous performance. He walks over and hops up to perch on the edge, swinging his legs with a smile. “I’m good here!” he calls. And, when it turns out he’s loud enough to get picked up on Casey’s mic, he raises a thumb and forefinger as if sizing up a photograph with Matt in the center—more specifically, Matt’s ass. “The view’s pretty great.”
A chorus of wolf-whistles and cheers meets his response, making Matt laugh again. “Are you flirting with me, in front of all these people? You scoundrel, Nick Tiernan.”
Nick blows him a kiss, giddy with adrenaline.
“All right.” Matt turns back to the crowd, picking up the mic and bouncing around the stage. “Now that my stage has gotten at least ten times prettier”—he throws a wink back at Nick—“let’s hit you with another song. Did you like that one?”
“YES!” the sea of people screams back.
“Awesome. Because while we’re sharing secrets, I’ll let you know that, like, at least five songs on our new album? They’re all inspired by that beautiful man right there.” He turns to point at Nick, whose jaw drops. Sorry,what now?
“What can I say? When a man finds his muse, the words just spill right out. But… you’ll have to wait to hear the rest of ’em until the album’s out. Sorry.”
There’s a loud chorus of groans. When Nick gets home, he is going to drag Matt to his computer and demand he play through the entire album and tell him every single song that is about Nick becauseoh my God what.
