Chapter 15 Micah
Micah
Back home, we settle
into a lazy rest of the day on the couch. Kellan finds some movie on one of his
streaming services, something action-packed with explosions and car chases that
neither of us really pay attention to. Instead, we talk. Kellan shares older
band stories, tales from before Tom completely took over their image and
direction.
"We used to just jam for hours," Kellan says, his body angled toward mine on the couch.
"No structure, no plan. Just four guys who loved making music together.
Rex would start a bass line, Liam would build on it with guitar, Jordan would add these incredible vocal runs, and I'd find the rhythm that tied it all together. "
His face lights up as he talks about music theory, the technical aspects of composition that go over my head but fascinate me anyway.
The passion in his voice transforms him, makes him look younger and less burdened.
This is the Kellan who fell in love with music, before the contracts and the image management and the pressure to be something marketable.
"I wanted us to experiment more," Kellan continues, gesturing with his hands.
"Incorporate different genres, try unconventional time signatures, bring in instruments that don't typically show up in rock music.
But Tom said the label wanted something safer, something that would appeal to the broadest audience.
So we got more generic with each album."
I love watching his face as he talks, the way his eyes brighten and his whole body becomes more animated.
The grumpy, brooding drummer persona melts away, replaced by someone genuinely excited about creation and art.
This is the real Kellan, the one hidden beneath layers of carefully constructed image.
"What would your dream album sound like?" I ask, genuinely curious.
Kellan leans back, thinking. "A fusion of rock and jazz with electronic elements.
Complex rhythms that challenge both the musicians and the listeners.
Lyrics that actually mean something instead of following predictable patterns.
Collaborations with artists from completely different genres.
Something that makes people think rather than just consuming content. "
"That sounds incredible." And it does. Even though I don't fully understand music the way he does, I can hear the vision in his voice.
"Tom would hate it." Kellan laughs, but there's bitterness underneath.
"Says it's too intellectual, too niche. That our fans want simple, catchy hooks they can sing along to.
And he's probably right from a business perspective.
But sometimes I wish I'd stuck with the solo thing, kept creative control even if it meant smaller success. "
My stomach grumbles loudly, interrupting the moment. We both laugh and Kellan pops up from the couch with sudden energy. "I'm making dinner. What should I do?"
"You really want to cook?" I raise an eyebrow. When he nods, I follow him into the kitchen, leaning against the counter. "Okay. Let's do salmon teriyaki with rice and sautéed broccoli."
Kellan's eyes widen. "That sounds way more complicated than just like… a sandwich."
"It's not that bad. I'll walk you through it." I grin at his nervous expression. "Just follow my instructions exactly and you'll be fine."
What follows is hilarious kitchen shenanigans that make my ribs ache from laughing. Kellan starts the rice first, measuring the water wrong three times before I correct him. Then he tries to cut the salmon and nearly takes off a finger because he's holding the knife wrong.
"Like this," I demonstrate with my good hand, showing him the proper grip. "Curl your fingers in so you don't lose any."
"Why is cooking so dangerous?" Kellan complains, but he adjusts his grip and tries again. This time the cuts are cleaner, more even.
The teriyaki sauce is next, and watching Kellan try to measure ingredients is entertainment in itself. He dumps in way too much soy sauce, then tries to compensate by adding more honey, which makes it too sweet. We end up starting over, with me measuring everything while he mixes.
"I thought drumming required precision," I tease as he finally gets the proportions right.
"Drumming doesn't involve liquids and measurements." Kellan stirs the sauce carefully. "Completely different skill set."
He gets flustered when the broccoli starts to burn, panicking and turning the heat down too low.
I talk him through adjusting the temperature, adding a little water to steam it properly.
His concentration face is adorable, brow furrowed and tongue poking out slightly as he focuses on not ruining dinner.
"You're doing great," I encourage as he plates everything up. The presentation is messy, nothing like a restaurant would serve, but it smells delicious.
Kellan carries both plates to the table, setting them down with obvious pride. Then he comes back for me, pulling me close for a sweet kiss. His lips are soft and warm, tasting faintly of the teriyaki sauce he "tested" while cooking.
"Thank you for being patient with me," Kellan murmurs against my mouth. "And for not laughing too hard when I almost set the kitchen on fire."
"I did laugh pretty hard though." I kiss him again, deeper this time.
We pull apart when the food starts to cool, settling at the table. Kellan cuts a piece of salmon and holds the fork up to my mouth. "Did I do good?" His expression is open and hopeful, like a kid seeking approval.
I take the bite, chewing slowly to give him maximum suspense. The salmon is cooked perfectly, tender and flaky. The teriyaki sauce has the right balance of sweet and savory. Even the rice is fluffy and not burned.
"It's perfect." I smile at his relieved expression. "You're officially a cook now."
"Don't tell Tom. He'll try to monetize it somehow." Kellan takes his own bite, looking pleased with himself. "Make me do cooking show appearances or release a cookbook."
Dinner is fantastic, both of us eating until we're pleasantly full. We clean up together, falling into an easy rhythm of washing and drying. Kellan asks for more insight into their last album, curious about my perspective as someone outside the music industry.
"What did you think of the overall sound?" Kellan rinses a plate. "Be honest. I want real feedback, not fan worship."
"I only heard it for the first time last night at the concert," I admit. "But from what I caught, it felt safe. Predictable in a way that was pleasant but not particularly memorable. The kind of music that sounds good in the background but doesn't make you stop and really listen."
Kellan nods, not offended. "That's exactly what it is. Safe, predictable, marketable. Everything Tom wanted and nothing I wanted to create."
"The new album with the love songs," I venture carefully. "Will that be the same?"
"Probably worse." Kellan dries his hands.
"At least the last album was about freedom and independence, themes I connected with even if the execution was sanitized.
This new one is forcing us into boxes we don't fit.
Rex and Liam have to sing about their perfect pack lives.
Jordan has to pretend his relationship is sunshine and roses when I know they struggle sometimes.
And I have to fake being in love for public consumption.
" He pauses, looking at me. "Except maybe I'm not faking as much as I thought I would be. "
My chest tightens at the admission. "We barely know each other, Kellan."
"I know. Doesn't make it less true." He turns away, finishing the dishes. "Come on. Let's watch another movie and not think about the album or Tom or any of it."
We settle back on the couch, Kellan finding some comedy that actually makes us both laugh.
The day fades into evening, the light outside the windows shifting from bright afternoon to soft dusk to full darkness.
At some point, I stop paying attention to the movie and just exist in the moment, comfortable and content in a way I haven't felt in months.
My eyes grow heavy as the warmth from dinner and the comfort of the couch pull me toward sleep. Kellan's presence beside me helps, his sweet rum scent wrapping around me like a blanket. I let my eyes close, just for a minute.
When I wake up the next morning, I'm laying on the couch with Kellan sprawled on top of me.
His head rests on my chest, his body a warm weight pressing me into the cushions.
One of his legs is tangled with mine, his arm draped across my waist. The TV has gone to the menu screen, playing the same three-second loop of music over and over.
I love being surrounded by the Alpha like this.
His scent is stronger when he sleeps, sweet rum mixing with something warm and masculine that makes me want to bury my face in his hair.
I gently reach up to run my fingers through his hair.
It's softer than it looks, slightly tangled from sleep.
Kellan stirs at the touch, making a soft sound of contentment.
His eyes open slowly, unfocused and sleepy.
"Hey," he mumbles, his voice rough with sleep.
"Hey yourself." I continue running my fingers through his hair, enjoying the way he leans into the touch.
Kellan props himself up slightly and leans down for a small kiss.
It's sweet and lazy, neither of us fully awake.
His lips are warm and soft, moving against mine with unhurried affection.
Then his phone rings, the shrill sound cutting through the peaceful moment.
Kellan groans, dropping his forehead to my chest.
"I've got practice today. Fuck." He doesn't move, just lies there like he can will the phone to stop ringing through sheer stubbornness.
"You should probably answer that." I pat his back gently.
"Don't want to." But Kellan pushes himself up anyway, fishing his phone out of his pocket. He answers without looking at the caller ID. "What?"
I can hear Tom's voice through the speaker, loud and demanding even though I can't make out the words. Kellan's expression shifts from sleepy contentment to resigned irritation in seconds.
"Yeah, I know. I'll be there." He hangs up without saying goodbye. "Tom's reminding me about practice. Like I'd forget. Like I haven't been showing up to practice for years without needing a wake-up call."
He stands, stretching with his arms above his head. His shirt rides up, exposing a strip of toned stomach covered in tattoos that makes my mouth water. I force myself to look away before he catches me staring.
"We'll swing by a store to grab you something to wear." Kellan runs a hand through his hair, trying to tame the mess I made. "Shit, I should have taken you home yesterday so you could get your own clothes. You've been wearing my stuff."
"Just take me to the venue where I left my car." I sit up. "I always keep another pair of clothes in there for emergencies. Extra shirt, jeans, work boots. I'll be fine."
Kellan looks relieved. "That's way easier than trying to find something in your size at a store. My stuff is too small on you anyway."
We both head for the showers, Kellan using the main bathroom while I take the guest. The hot water feels amazing on my sore muscles, washing away the lingering sleep and easing some of the ache in my ribs.
I'm careful around my cast, keeping it dry with the garbage bag and rubber band system I've perfected over the last few weeks.
When I emerge, dressed in the same borrowed clothes from yesterday, I find Kellan in the kitchen nursing a Dr Pepper. He's already showered and dressed, his hair still damp and his shirt clinging to his body in ways that definitely doesn't help my concentration.
"Would you at least eat some fruit or something?" I move to the fridge, looking for something healthy to balance out his caffeine and sugar breakfast.
"I'll grab something at practice." Kellan takes another long drink. "Usually there's bagels or donuts or something."
"That's not better." I pull out the cantaloupe we bought yesterday, grabbing a knife to cut it open. "Here. At least have some vitamins." I cut the cantaloupe into chunks, popping one into my mouth to test it. Perfectly ripe and sweet. I grab another piece and hold it up to Kellan's mouth. "Open."
Kellan grins but opens his mouth obediently. I feed him the cantaloupe, watching his lips close around my fingers. Then his tongue darts out, licking the juice from my fingers before he deliberately sucks them deeper into his mouth.
The sensation goes straight to my cock. I groan, pulling my hand back and trying to ignore the heat flooding through me. "We don't have time for this."
Kellan laughs. "But fuck, I wish we did."