Happy Wednesday darlings! I apologize because last week I had all the intention of briefing but life got in the way. Fortunately this week I was able to steal an hour and write this brief for you. It will be divided in 2 or 3 parts, so tune in next week for more.
More than music
Dylan let
his head fall back against the couch. He sighed and closed his eyes. Home at
last. He was relieved. He had been able to flee the crowd unscathed this time.
Absently he ran his fingers through his hair. During his last show, one of the fans
had managed to climb onstage. If she’d let it at that, fine, but she had tried
to jump him and in the process had pulled his hair. He was so pissed he’d left.
He couldn’t handle the crazy one. He just couldn’t. It sucked that the rest of
the fans had to suffer for people like her, but what else could he do? Let her
attack him? Then everyone would think it was okay. The sound of the lock echoed
in the still empty apartment. His heart skipped. Only two other persons had the
keys to his place. Could it be? He opened his eyes a sliver. His mouth dried at
the sight of the tall man standing on the doorway kicking off his shoes.
“Mac.”
His voice
came out hoarse, as if he’d been screaming his bandmate’s name all day. He
cleared his throat and went back to reclining on the plush seat. He couldn’t
let him see how his presence affected him.
“Hey, Dyl.”
The task
was becoming harder every day. Mac’s voice had a sensual lilt to it when he
spoke that caused the hairs on his arms to stand every time. Dylan swallowed
and folded his hands over his belly. Nonchalance. He had to pretend he didn’t
care.
“What are you doing here?”
“I came to
see how you were doing. You left kind of quickly.”
Dylan
shrugged. “Yeah, well, you know, the incident with the girl it kind of has me
nervous.”
The couch
dipped as Mac sat at his side. Was he always radiating such body heat? Or was
that him? Dylan resisted the urge to wipe his brow.
“Yeah, I
know.”
Dylan
swallowed, the sound loud and clear in the silence that followed. He was going
to throw up out of sheer nerves. Fuck, what was wrong with him? He’d known Mac
all his life- they’d basically formed the band together. However, of late, he’d
go into this catatonic phase every time his friend was near. He passed a hand
across his face, taking the chance to peek at Mac. His eyes opened wide.
“What are
you looking at?”
“You.”
“Why?”
“What’s wrong, Dyl?”
“What do
you mean?”
“I have the
impression you’ve been avoiding me since—“
“Don’t say
it!”
Mac’s
eyebrows shot up to his dark hairline. “Since you found me having sex with that
groupie.”
“Fuck, Mac.”
Dylan let his head drop back with a grunt. “I told you not to say it,” he
mumbled. The scene he’d witnessed that night danced before his close eyelids.
Mac’s lean body slick with sweat as he pumped into another guy. He’d never,
God, he’d never thought--
“Why Dyl? It’s
not as if you haven’t had sex with—“
“It’s not
that.”
“Then what
is it?”
“It’s you.”
“Me?”
Dylan
sighed.
“Never mind.”
“You
fucking tell me, Dylan or I’m leaving for good.”
“What?” Out
of reflex he grasped Mac’s wrist. “You can’t leave.”
“I can and I will if you don’t tell me what’s going on.” Mac’s green eyes
watered. “I can’t stand the tension between us anymore, Dyl.”
“Tension?”
“You know
what I’m talking ‘bout.” Mac punched him on the shoulder and got up.
“Ow.”
Paralyzed he
watched his friend walk to the door.
“No, wait,
I—“ Dyl swallowed. “I can’t get you out of my head.”
Mac stood
with his back to him, his hand on the door’s pommel.
“What do you mean?”
“I keep seeing you wrapped around that guy and—“
“And?”
Dylan’s tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. He couldn’t speak. He couldn’t
admit what he’d been imagining for a very long time- even before the incident-.
“Dylan.”
“I keep wishing
it had been me,” he screamed. “I keep seeing you, us, wrapped together.”
“Sex?”
“You fucking know it’s more than that.”
Mac huffed.
“It doesn’t
sound like it. You write lyrics for a living, Dylan. I beg you, tell me what’s
in your heart.”
Mac spun
around. Dylan stumbled to his feet. He’d only seen that vulnerability in his
friend’s gaze once, a long time ago, when they’d been children and—
“When we
were children you once told me you were in love with someone.”
Mac nodded.
His gaze dropping to the floor.
“All this
time.”
“You really
aren’t very good at riddles, Dyl.”
Dylan
forced his feet to move until he stood face to face with Mac. He searched the
other man’s gaze. The familiar warmth he felt in his presence returned full
throttle. His palms started to sweat and his lips dried.
“But you
said, you said that the boy you liked had blonde hair and he was taller than
you and, he couldn’t sing to save his life.”
The corner
of Mac’s lips lifted and his eyes danced with amusement. “Your original hair
color Mr. Rock n’ roll dive, if you don’t remember was dirty blonde. You were
taller than me back then and I still think you can’t sing, even if hordes of
fans think the opposite.”
Dylan
shuffled his feet. Mac was in love with him? Had been since forever.
“Mac, I’m
speechless.”
To be
continued
Flashing this week:
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