Secrets

Part Five: OML -- Invisible

March 2, 2017

Mike's hands clutched at the front of Chester's pajama shirt. "I can't let you go back," he whimpered, and it was all Chester could do not to shake him awake. Even though it was too dark in the hotel room to see Mike's face, he knew there was a crease between his eyebrows, and his lips were turned down into a frown.

Easy, easy, don't wake him up. Don't do anything to scare him. Chester held Mike's face carefully in both hands as he mumbled in his sleep. He was picking up words here and there, but most of what Mike was saying was indecipherable. Chester was too afraid to move to check the clock beside the bed, and he had no idea what time it was. He only knew that he'd been roused by Mike's sleep talking, and tonight it sounded serious.

"Chester," Mike breathed out.

"Right here, Mikey," Chester responded softly, moving one hand up to stroke the soft hair he couldn't see. He felt Mike's hands relax their grip on his shirt slightly. "You're okay. I'm okay. I'm not going back." Tonight's subject was one he'd heard already. It was about Chester leaving him to go to rehab, and even though he knew that time apart had been necessary, he felt guilty when the memories of it seemed to upset Mike.

"Ches," Mike breathed again, and Chester inched his body closer to Mike's. "I love you. Don't leave me."

The wounded tone of Mike's voice, made more raw from the raspiness brought on by sleep, stopped Chester's heart. He sounded like an abandoned child. "Not leaving," Chester whispered, pressing a kiss to Mike's cheek.

He felt Mike's hand leave the front of his shirt and slide behind his head, and Chester knew what was coming. He wanted it, to feel Mike's lips on his again. It had been far too long. He'd dreamed about it in Utah, replayed the memories in Malibu. Through their separation Chester had tried to push away the memories but the more he tried, the more those outlines of memories became fully fleshed out and colored sketches, snapshots of intimate moments shared that only he could remember. All of that time away had been spent trying to work out if he was strong enough to stop wanting these secret moments between him and Mike.

And here they were, Mike's warm, desperate breaths on his face, their legs tangled under the sheets and their hands in each other's hair. Chester let their lips come together, allowed himself to kiss Mike back, pushing away any stray thoughts about whether it was right or wrong, whether it was good for his mental health or not. It didn't matter. Even if Mike couldn't admit his feelings in the light of day, Chester knew they were there. He could feel it. Nobody could kiss with that kind of passion and not mean it.

Their lips were swollen and raw before Chester heard Mike sigh, felt him bury his head in the space between Chester's shoulder and his neck, pressing another kiss to the pulse that ran down the side of his neck. "I love you," he whispered again.

Chester tightened his arms around Mike, holding him close and listening until he knew his friend was peacefully asleep. "I love you, too, Mike. And I can't do a damn thing about it until you figure it out on your own. You've got to figure it out before it kills me." He breathed in and out slowly, matching his breaths to Mike's, finally falling back asleep as the morning sun started to creep through the edges of the closed window shades.

**********

The elevator doors slid closed, and Mike and Chester were alone for the first time in hours. Mike watched as Chester slumped against the back wall, his chin ducked to his chest and his sunglasses still covering his eyes. I'm tired. I didn't sleep well, had been Chester's defense of the sunglasses, and Mike hadn't wanted to argue with him about wearing them all day. Worry gnawed at his insides, though, as he wondered if lack of sleep was really the issue, or if Chester was feeling down again. He couldn't bear to think they were on a downward spiral, but the interviews had been hard on the vocalist, and Mike was feeling extra protective.