The song, haunting as it was, couldn’t end soon enough.
A single spotlight shone on Killy, head hanging down, eyes closed, lost in words and melody. Mike poured out his love and support with his vocals, willing his own strength into his lover.
At last the ordeal ended, to thunderous applause.
What could come after that?
Jake started a drum solo, heralding one of Trickster’s classic songs, about drinking and waking up with a stranger.
When the song ended the chanting began. “Highway! Highway!”
They’d scheduled that song for the end, to allow them to work in new songs among old, yet thousands of fans made their wishes known.
Killian shot Mike a wry smile, though somewhat strained. “What’re they saying? I can’t make it out.”
“Highway! Highway!”
Mike slipped into character. “I reckon we better give themHighway.”
Back to back, time reversed, returning Mike to the day he’d met and performed with Killian. The fans disappeared while he relived the nearly orgasmic experience of the first songs together, when they’d realized what a match their musical styles made.
In rare form, or maybe the norm for them, they harmonized, voices wrapping around each other’s, creating something so beautiful, so profound, tears sprang to Mike’s eyes.
This! This was what he’d always wanted when he’d been onstage with his family—to cut himself open and share himself with the world, unrestrained.
While he’d never get used to all the people, the attention; this melding with his lover he could.
* * *
On stage again. Not quite the hell Killy expected. Nothing mattered now but Mike at his back, his new band blending their talents into a unique sound.
If all he had to do was write music and sing, Killy would be a happy man.
Or rather, write music, sing, and be with Mike.
Mike. Like the man’s voice permeated his soul, the man himself burrowed into the heart Killy thought he’d lost long ago.
Piece by piece Mike lifted the torn shards, weaving them back together with shy smiles, the kisses Killy had lived too long without, and the gentle way he only wanted to be with Killy, didn’t want money or fame.
Why couldn’t he have met Mike long ago?
Oh, because back then he’d been an asshole. Sweet, gentle Mike would’ve run.
If he hadn’t met Mike, he could’ve lived his life being the same soul-sick, grouchy son-of-a-bitch he’d been for the last three years. Mike made him want to make music again, live again.
Love again. Or rather, love for the first time.
He’d always scoffed at love and the sentimental ideals his brother adhered to.
One day, brother, you’re going to find someone who’ll make you understand all I’ve been telling you.
And now, with him gone, Elliot finally got to act the part of older, wiser brother. If only he were here. He’d love Mike, tease Killian mercilessly.
Be truly happy for him.
Would he have found the love he sought, or would Elliot have remained forever destined to keep falling for the wrong men?
A thought slipped unbidden to Killian’s mind. If Heaven and Hell and angels were real, Elliot would’ve lined the stars up so Killian and Mike could meet.
