'Dave!' Mandira flung her arms around his neck and gave him the tightest hug she ever had before. 'Oh my God, I missed you! Did you have an okay summer?'
Dave hugged her back with a chuckle. 'Yeah, it was all right. You?'
'Went to India,' she said with distaste, letting go. 'Hot as hell, and Mum spent the entire time trying to find my future husband. And my Punjabi sucks, so . . .'
'Hey, better than being stuck at a vineyard in Tuscany with my dad for three weeks.'
'You poor bastard,' said Mandira, shaking her head and laughing.
At lunch, they sat down together to discuss their summers in more detail. Mandira did not ask about Nick, for which Dave was grateful. He felt like he'd talked about his ex enough in the past few days.
'I mean, this guy is my cousin,' said Mandira. 'Second cousin, but still, you know? And I guess he was pretty good looking, but . . . I'm seventeen, and he was twenty-two. Thankfully, my dad put his foot down, said I was too young and he was too old.'
A shadow fell across their table as someone approached, and they looked up. It was Patrick Lawton, and Dave's mouth fell open in surprise.
'Hey.' Patrick looked mildly embarrassed. 'Is it okay if I . . . Can I sit with you guys?'
Dave looked at Mandira, who shrugged. 'Er, I guess. Sure.'
He sat, and a brief, awkward silence followed. Patrick looked from one to the other and smiled a lopsided smile. 'You don't have to stop talking on my account.'
'Oh.' Mandira smiled. 'I was just done with my story, anyway. Er, how are you? How was your summer?'
Patrick shrugged. 'Okay. Bit weird. How about you?'
'Basically the same,' said Mandira.
'Yup. Okay and weird just about sums it up,' said Dave. 'You know, Mandi, my mum made a complete one-eighty in her behaviour towards me this summer? We're talking about stuff and she's actually acting like she cares, taking an interest in my life, my love life, even. Everything. Being downright accepting of the whole gay thing. It was beyond bizarre, but . . . It's nice, you know? Having a parent I can actually talk to.'
'Yeah, that's my dad in my family,' said Mandira. 'I mean, I can talk to Mum about some things, but Dad's the rational one. The non-judgy one, I mean.'
'Must be nice,' said Patrick. 'I don't feel like I can talk to my parents about much of anything. They're . . . very Catholic.'
'Ouch. I'm sorry,' said Dave. 'My parents are Anglican. You know, not of the "we really believe in God" kind, more of the "going through the motions because we're English" kind. Dad's an arsehole, but that has nothing to do with being a Christian. More the other way around, like he's a Christian because he's an arsehole.'
Patrick laughed. 'So, he's not big on the gay thing, then?'
'You kidding? He was fucking livid when he found out. I was grounded, he only let me have my phone when I was at school. He would probably have disowned me if it weren't for the fact that I'm his only child, and he definitely doesn't want my cousin to inherit him.'
'Yeah, I'm not out to my family at all . . .' Patrick looked away, a slight flush creeping up his cheeks. 'Or anyone. Hey, Dave.' He licked his lips and looked at Dave again with earnest hazel eyes. 'I was a real dick last year. To you too, Mandira. I said some really shitty things. I'm sorry.'
Dave blinked. This was not what he had expected at all. After Patrick's clumsy attempt at flirtation during the winter dance last year, he'd been pretty sure he was into guys, but he hadn't expected him to come out and say it, least of all to Dave, after how he had reacted.
'Oh. Er, it's okay. I mean, dickishness is actually a fairly common side effect of being in the closet, so . . .' He paused, studying Patrick's face. 'So, you're gay, then?'
'I guess. I mean, I like guys, anyway. I dunno. I'm still figuring shit out. But I wanted to talk to someone about it, and you just seem like really nice people. So.'
Dave smiled. 'Our lips are sealed. Right, Mandi?'
'Yeah, who would I even out you to, anyway?' said Mandira with a grin. 'And, er . . . Any time you wanna hang out, just let us know.'
Patrick's face split into a wide grin. 'Thanks. That's just, really awesome of you. Especially after I . . . I mean. Thanks. And I'm sorry, again.'
'I'm sorry too,' said Dave. 'For threatening to out you back at the dance. I mean, I wouldn't have done it, but it was a dick move anyway.'
Patrick shrugged. 'I deserved it.' He finally took a bite of his food, which was no doubt going cold by now. 'So,' he said after chewing and swallowing. 'How's your boyfriend?'
'Oh. Er . . .' Dave looked away.
'They broke up,' said Mandira helpfully. She glanced at Dave, who gave her a shrug and a slight nod. 'It was a really shitty break-up, so best not to talk about it.'
'I'm sorry,' said Patrick, and he sounded like he meant it.
* * *
Since Matt and Stuart were still at Sapswell, and still both taking music, they still had full use of the rehearsal rooms, which was lucky, especially since Brian had gotten them a gig in Wolverhampton less than two weeks after the start of term.
'We need to play that song you wrote over summer, though,' Stuart insisted. 'I mean, seriously. It's really, really good. I mean, it's fucking brutal.'
Nick shrugged. 'No way we'll be able to arrange it properly in two weeks. And I . . . That song is really personal. I'm not ready.'
'Don't push it, Stuart,' said Matt. 'We have plenty of other songs we can play.'
Stuart shrugged. 'All right. Sorry. Still . . . we should keep working on it. Maybe in two weeks, you'll feel ready.'
Nick sighed, considering it. 'Okay,' he said at last. 'Guess it doesn't hurt to try. But it's my call whether we play it, all right?'
Stuart grinned. 'Of course. Completely up to you. I just really love that song.'
'That's a ringing endorsement, coming from you,' said Matt. 'Shall we start with that one, then? We can discuss the set list after.'
They worked on the new song for a while (it didn't have a title yet), agreed on a preliminary set list, and played through a couple of their old songs before calling it a night.
Matt and Nick took the bus home together. 'Stu's right, you know,' said Matt. 'That song? Fucking brutal. It's amazing.'
Nick shrugged. 'I don't know if I'm happy with it.'
'You should be.' Matt smiled. 'I know it came from a really, really dark and painful place, Nick. I get that. But it's so good. It's the same caliber as Dull, if not better. Squeezes the heart out of you. I mean, you're gonna make grown men cry with that thing. Highest compliment an artist can get, that. You know?'
Nick returned his smile. 'Thank you. Maybe . . . Maybe I just have to rip off the plaster, get it over with and perform it.'
'Maybe,' said Matt. 'Only if you're ready, though.'
* * *
Dave found himself enjoying Patrick's company. He was clever and funny and, as it turned out, a bit of a flirt. Not quite on a level with Matt, but given time he could probably have given him a run for his money. And not like he'd been back in December, either, when he made his ham-fisted attempt at the winter dance. Now the flirting seemed to come more naturally to him, probably a side effect of starting to come out. Dave liked it.
And it wasn't like Patrick was hard to look at. He was tall, nearly of a height with Dave, but slimmer. His auburn hair was a bit long on top and tended to flop down in front of his hazel eyes when he sat hunched over his desk, and it was cute how he futilely tried to blow it out of the way until he was forced to use his hand. And those hands, they were good-looking hands.
Dave leaned over to him in Maths and whispered, 'Maybe you should invest in some hair clips or something? Might look cute on you.'
Patrick glanced back at him with a coy half smile. 'You're gonna make me blush, Dave, coming on to me like that. Pay attention.' And he turned his eyes to the whiteboard. Dave bit his lip to suppress a snicker and did the same.
When the lesson finished, they walked to lunch together. 'You know, I turn eighteen Sunday next week,' said Dave. 'Having a birthday party the day before. You should come. It's at my house, over in Windfield Green. If you want, that is.'
Patrick grinned. 'I'd love to. I'm eighteen in like a month, but doubt there'll be much of a party. Hard to celebrate much at Dorcrest, and it's not like I can do it at home, you know?'
Just then, they passed a guy from Dave's biology class named Robert. 'Hey, Dave,' he called. 'Seen you a lot with this one lately. He your new boyfriend or what?'
Dave cocked an eyebrow at him. 'You hang out with James all day, is he yourboyfriend?'
Robert blushed and looked away.
Then Patrick spoke. 'Anyway, so what if I were? You jealous?'
Dave burst out laughing at the look Robert gave them both before he stalked away. He turned to Patrick and they spontaneously high-fived. 'Not bad, mate. Didn't know you had it in you.'
'Maybe you put it in me,' said Patrick with a smirk.
Dave swatted him upside the head and then ruffled his hair. It was surprisingly soft. 'You're terrible.'
Patrick laughed. 'Seriously, though. He's jealous. I know I would be . . .' He looked away, and Dave had the urge to hug him. He didn't.
* * *
Two weeks passed remarkably quickly, and the day before the concert, Nick decided that it was not yet time for the new song, which had been temporarily dubbed The Break-Up Songuntil a better title presented itself, to be performed. Stuart was disappointed, but reluctantly agreed, as promised.
They met up with Brian at the bus station in Wolverhampton. He greeted them enthusiastically and gave Nick a deeper kiss than was perhaps entirely appropriate in public. Alan was with them, for Matt's sake, but hadn't spoken to Nick for the entire journey. Now he looked positively livid, at seeing Brian put his arm around Nick so casually as they walked to the venue.
It wasn't the fanciest place, and it wouldn't fit more than a maximum of two hundred people, not that that many were likely to show up. Nick figured they'd be lucky if they got twenty. Still, as they approached the door, they saw a large poster featuring a group photo that Ellie had taken of them against a brick wall at Sapswell back in March, and the words, Tonight only! The Oxymorons, 9 pm. Doors: 8 pm. CC: £5. Cash only.
'So,' said Brian, 'I talked to the sound tech yesterday, and she says she can do a recording through the soundboard. It won't be great, but it's something you can use for promotional material in future. Cool, right?'
'That's awesome,' said Nick. 'Thank you. Thanks a lot.'
'Yes, that was good thinking,' said Stuart. 'Very good idea.'
'I can film a bit from the audience, too, if you think you might want to use it,' Brian continued.
'So, what are you, their manager, now?' said Alan gruffly. 'You gonna start skimming ten percent off the profits?'
Brian looked surprised. 'No. I'm helping a fellow band get started. A band that really deserves to make it big.' He looked at Nick as he said the last part, smiling.
Nick knew that, more than anything, Brian was doing this for him, and for a short moment he felt like he was taking advantage of Brian's kindness. But he shook the thought. It wasn't like Brian wasn't getting something out of this, too.
The place had a backline for them to use, which was already set up when they arrived. They greeted the sound tech, whose name was Anna, set up their stuff on the stage, and began the sound check with Stuart. Matt and Nick sat down at a table in a corner, while Alan took a bathroom break and Brian had a chat with the bartender, to try and sweet talk him into not checking the band's IDs.
'Hey,' said Matt when they were alone. 'Are you sure this thing you've got going with Brian is a good idea?' There was no need to whisper over the thump, thump, thump of the bass drum.
Nick sighed and rolled his eyes. 'This again? I told you. It's not serious, it's just . . .'
'No, I know.' Matt sat back, hands behind his head, looking up at the stage, where they'd begun checking the snare. 'I just, I didn't think meaningless sex was your style, is all.'
Nick frowned. 'Just cause we're not boyfriends, that doesn't mean it's meaningless. He likes me, likes spending time with me. And to me, it's . . . It means comfort. Everything else is so fucking chaotic right now, I need that. I thought you of all people would understand.'
'I do. I get it. But, Nick, I also know you, and I know him. At some point, you'll fall in love, and he'll break your heart. Cause that's what he does. Not on purpose, he just . . .' Matt trailed off and sighed.
'Shows how well you know me,' said Nick. 'There is only one person in this world that I'm in love with. I really don't want to talk about this. Besides, Brian got us this gig.'
'Sorry.' Matt put an arm around Nick's shoulders. 'I didn't mean to upset you. I just worry.'
'Well, don't,' said Nick, but he still snuggled up to Matt with a sigh. 'I'm okay.'
'Are you going home with him tonight?'
Nick shook his head. 'No. Zoë said to come home, she's back from Nottingham tonight.'
Brian came over to them, all smiles. 'All right, guys?'
Matt returned his expression. 'Yeah, just having a chat.'
'It's a no go on the bar, I'm afraid. You get free soft drinks, though.' Brian sat down on Nick's other side. 'You okay, Nick? You look down.'
'I'm fine,' said Nick, just as Stuart began to play a beat for the sound tech. Matt stood up and went over to the stage, where Alan stood, busy with his phone. Matt's arm was replaced by Brian's, and the latter kissed Nick softly.
'You look like you could do with a little pick-me-up,' he murmured, but Nick shook his head.
'Not before the show. Wouldn't mind one after, though.' He smiled.
Brian gave him another kiss, deeper this time, and pulled him close. 'That can be arranged. You just tell me what you need, and I'll make it happen. Wish I could take you home tonight.'
'Me too,' Nick breathed, and meant it. Being shagged silly sounded like just the thing tonight.
'Why don't you come visit me again in a couple of weeks? We could go clubbing or something. Try out something new.'
Nick smiled and kissed his cheek. 'I'd like that.'
Brian was just so giving. It was almost like his raison d'être was to make Nick feel good and happy, and again, Nick felt like he was taking advantage. It seemed more likely that he would end up breaking Brian's heart than the other way around.
After the soundcheck, they all went off to get some food. To save everyone from any awkwardness with Alan, Brian and Nick went off on their own and got McDonald's, and returned to the venue about an hour before the gig was due to start, just after the doors had opened. Nick was surprised at how many people had already shown up. He recognised a few from Sapswell, as well as Stuart's brother and a couple of his friends from last year's New Year's party. The latter group greeted him enthusiastically.
But there were so many people he didn't know as well, people in their twenties, cool looking people with piercings and tattoos and unconventional hairstyles, and more were trickling in.
'Who are all these people?' he asked Brian. 'I mean, no one's ever heard of us.'
'Are you kidding? Hipsters love going to see bands they've never heard of.' Brian grinned. 'Also, I may have plugged your gig on Twitter and Facebook. Like a lot. Pretty sure some of these are Adolescent Pushback fans.' He kissed the top of Nick's head fondly. 'Don't worry, you'll be amazing. I've seen you play, you feed off a good audience.'
And Nick found that he did. When he got up on stage, brimming with nervous energy, he released it all into the opening chords of the first song, and sucked it back up from the cheering and applauding crowd before him. He was absolutely sure that he played and sang better than he ever had before, where he stood in skinny jeans and a t-shirt frayed at the neck, hair plastered to his sweaty forehead. He almost regretted that they weren't playing The Break-Up Song.
They finished with Birmingham Suicide, and when the crowd wouldn't stop clapping after they'd left the stage, they returned and played You Know You're Rightas an encore.
When he finally got off the stage, Nick was trembling, grinning, feeling as high as he ever had on cocaine. Matt stared at him as though he were seeing him for the first time.
'What the fuck, Nick? I've never seen you play like that before. That was . . .'
'Amazing,' Stuart supplied. 'You were legendary. Forget every single thing I've ever said about technique or whatever. You don't fucking need it.'
Nick laughed. 'You guys are ridiculous! But, thanks.'
A second later, Brian was there, pulling him into a tight embrace and kissing him almost violently. 'Holy fuck, Nick. You're incredible. I seriously fucking cried during Dull.' He pulled away and looked at the other two. 'You guys are so much better than we are. I mean it, you're insanely good, and you're seventeen. Imagine where you'll be in three years. And you,' he turned to Nick again, 'what you did tonight, do not ever lose that.'
Nick craved him, then. 'Can we go somewhere else?' he asked breathlessly.
'Don't take too long,' said Stuart, rolling his eyes. 'We need to pack up and catch the bus back to Sapswell.'
'Yeah. I'll be back soon.' Nick took Brian's hand, and Brian led him quickly to the disabled toilet next to the bar, locking them inside.
'So,' he said. 'What do you need?'
'You,' Nick breathed. 'I need you.'
* * *
As they were returning to the stage, they were stopped several times along the way by people who wanted to congratulate Nick and tell him how great he was, how great the band was. He still wasn't good at accepting praise, but tried to smile and nod and thank them. When they finally made it back to the stage, Matt, Stuart and Alan had nearly finished packing everything down.
'Sorry,' said Nick, blushing, and he and Brian joined them in packing down what was left.
'Honestly,' said Stuart, dismantling what remained of the drum kit while the sound tech carried the snare drum and the guitar amp to storage, 'after the performance you just put on, you can be as much of a diva as you bloody well like, for all I care.'
'We all played well,' said Nick, dismissing the compliment.
'Yeah, we did,' said Stuart, 'but you played better. What we did tonight was good, and it was tight, and we worked well together as a group. But you gave it that little extra, Nick. You gave it the spark that made people really listen. You worked magic.' He stopped what he was doing to put an arm around Nick's shoulder. The very antithesis of Matt, Stuart did not like physical contact. He wasn't even a big fan of handshakes, though he considered them a necessary evil. The one time he and Nick had hugged had been on New Year's Eve, when he was drunk. But now he squeezed Nick's upper arm and said, 'I don't do flattery, Nick. You know that. If I'm saying it, it's true.'
'I'd listen to him, if I were you,' said Anna, the sound tech, as she returned to the stage. 'Seriously, one of the best performances we've had here in, like, ever.'
'Right sight better than we were two years ago, eh, Anna?' Brian grinned.
'Oh definitely. You guys sucked donkey's balls in comparison.' Anna smirked at Brian, and she and Stuart carried the rest of the drums off stage.
There was nothing left now, except Stuart's cymbal bags, and Nick's guitar and Matt's bass in their cases. Alan stood off to the side, looking gruff. Then he took a step closer and, taking a deep breath, said, 'I still hate your guts right now, so don't get any ideas, but . . . You were really good.' Then, with a glare aimed at Brian, he turned around and walked off the stage.
'I get the feeling he doesn't like me,' said Brian, cocking an eyebrow.
'He's Dave's best friend,' said Matt. 'He doesn't like either of you at the moment.' He picked up his bass. 'We'll be outside, I'm gasping for a fag.'
Nick nodded, and Brian put his arms around him again. He had good, strong arms. Comforting arms. And Nick buried his face in his shoulder, breathing in the scent of laundry detergent and sweat from rocking out on the floor. Now that he was off the stage high, Nick suddenly felt like crying, but he didn't.
Stuart returned for his cymbals, and a moment later, Anna showed up with a memory stick. 'The whole show is on here,' she said. 'You've got the master, as well as individual tracks if someone would like to do a better listening mix.'
'That's amazing. Thanks, Anna,' said Nick, accepting the memory stick from her.
'Give it to me,' said Stuart. 'I've got some software at home.'
They headed for the exit, where they were given the door money in an envelope. There were some coins, making it pretty heavy. 'How many people were here tonight?' Nick asked the doorman.
'I counted a hundred and twelve,' he said, shrugging. 'There should be over five hundred quid in there.'
Nick felt his jaw drop. 'What, seriously?'
Stuart took the envelope and put it in the pocket on the front of his cymbal case. 'Thanks, mate.'
They stepped outside, where they found Matt and Alan smoking, as promised.
'We made real money,' said Nick at once. 'Like, actual real money. We made five hundred pounds, you guys!'
Matt grinned. 'That's awesome!'
They set off towards the bus stop. Halfway there, Brian took Nick's hand and stopped him. 'I should go get my own bus to Brum. Take care of yourself, okay?' He leaned in and kissed him, more gently than he had before, before taking his hand and discreetly placing a spliff on his palm. 'I'll see you in a couple of weeks.'
Nick nodded, putting his hand in his pocket. 'Yeah. See ya.'
Brian said goodbye to the others before they parted, and they continued on towards the bus. Matt gave Nick a look, but he didn't say anything, and for that, Nick was grateful.