Page 82 of Tumbling Hearts

She’ll be the star of all my dreams.”

The warmth of Gene’s body and the feel of his breath is euphoric; Ray’s cheeks feel like they’re on fire. He always does this on stage with Gene, getting close, testing the limits, singing together like this. His heart feels so full as the song they wrote together fills the air all around.

With Gene holding his guitar and Ray holding the mic, there’s no place he’d rather be.

It’s the next evening: Halloween night. There’s a party happening in the lobby of the Chateau Marmont, filled with people galore. Many of them are dressed up in costumes—vampire capes, witch hats, Frankenstein neck pins, zombie make-up, the whole shebang. Gene isn’t wearing anything special, though; he didn’t think to pack anything. He sits on one of the fancy couches with Maurice, who is dressed up, albeit subtly. While not in a full costume, Maurice is wearing a headband with black cat ears, along with some whiskers drawn on his cheeks with eyeliner. Aside from that, he’s wearing his normal clothes.

Maurice passes a joint to Gene, and he takes in a hit. They’re not doing much, just sitting here ‘people watching’. Scattered around other couches, end tables, chairs, and windowsills are the rest of the Dusty Brooms, their entourage, and the band who opened for them for their show yesterday: the Kilotones. The Kilotones have their own crew hanging around as well, and that’s not to mention all the other people staying at this hotel with no relation to either band. There’s probably about thirty to forty people packed here, disguised as ghouls and ghosts, but the one person Gene can’t find is Ray.

Ray is likely just getting ready in his room. Perhaps he’s preparing a costume? The idea sends a flutter through Gene’s chest, wondering what it could be. In the meantime his gaze wanders around the room. Sitting along the windowsill of a large, arched window is Stefan, donning a vampire cape that suits his long platinum blond hair well. He has not one, not two—but three groupies attached to him. That’s the most I’ve seen on him all at once. Gene doesn’t quite understand it, but he’s happy for the bassist all the same. As long as he’s being responsible, it’s not any of Gene’s business.

Carol is standing a bit farther away and harder to see—there are too many people walking in front of Gene to get a good view—but surprisingly, she’s not with Pat. She’s hanging with a man who isn’t Ray. Gene thinks he’s seen this guy before, with his perfectly combed dark hair, perfectly shaved sideburns, and a navy blue business suit… Oh, it hits him—that’s her modeling agent, Tim Price. Gene’s only seen him a handful of times. Though it’s curious he’s here with her at a party; one would assume they only had a business relationship. Whatever. Maybe the whole learning that Ray cheated on her thing is making her consider other options.

Pat is actually standing by Dennis, and neither of them have a costume on. Pat has a drink in her hand, though. She doesn’t drink often, but it’s a holiday.

Santiago is sitting on a couch out of Gene’s peripheral view, but he can still see him if he turns his head. Santi has a scarecrow hat on his head with some straw stuffed down his flannel shirt as a costume for tonight. There’s a chick sitting next to him, and good for him, honestly. They must’ve just met here tonight, as Gene doesn’t think he’s seen her before. But Santi’s face is lit up with pure joy. He leans into her, wrapping his arm around her shoulders as she laughs at something he just said. He deserves someone to lift his spirits, definitely, after dealing with all the stress of Gene and Ray’s nonsense.

“When do you think Ray’s gonna show up?” Maurice asks, taking back the joint from Gene.

“Hopefully soon. I might just check his room if he doesn’t show up in the next ten minutes, honestly.”

Maurice chuckles, putting out the joint on the ashtray sitting on the low table in front of them, decorated with floral accents. “Yeah, you should. It’s unlike him to not be here already.”

“For sure.” Gene grabs his glass from the table, taking a sip of whiskey sour. He tips the glass up, already almost done with it. Though this definitely isn’t his first, and his head spins a little as he swallows it down.

“Oh, speak of the devil!” Maurice says.

Gene pulls his drink away from his face.

Standing right in front of him is the man of his dreams: Ray. He still has a scarf around his neck (that hickey likely won’t fade away for probably another week), but paired with it is a form-fitting maroon tank top along with some tight silk pants. What really completes Ray’s outfit is his make-up—striking blue eyeshadow, black mascara, and red lipgloss that brings prominence to his luscious lips.

It makes Gene’s mouth water.

“Why, hello there,” Gene says.

“Hey there, handsome,” Ray says, his lips curling in a sexy smirk.

That gets Maurice to chuckle. “You guys are always so cute.”

“H-hey…” Gene’s cheeks feel hot.

“What? It’s true.”

“If you say so,” Gene laughs. While neither of them have told Maurice about the truth of their relationship, Gene has a feeling that Maurice just knows. Maurice is gay himself, so it makes sense that he can see through their facade. Like he has this sixth sense for noticing queerness.

“Can I get a photo of your outfit?” Maurice asks Ray, grabbing hold of the camera he always keeps around his neck.

“Sure,” Ray says. He poses, putting a hand behind his head like a model, staying still for a moment as Maurice snaps the shutter. Gene gazes at his best friend, always in awe of his beauty.

“Thanks, man,” Maurice says, lowering his camera.

“You mind if I sit here?” Ray asks Gene, taking a sip from his glass. He must’ve grabbed it before he came over; there’s a table with various liquors and cups by the threshold toward the stairwell.

“Sure,” Gene says, “but there’s not really much room here on the couch…”

“That’s not a problem.”

Without warning, Ray plops down and finds a seat on Gene’s lap, startling him and nearly making both of their drinks spill from their hands in the process.