Chapter 34
Dmitri
Locked inside the safety of Eric’s childhood home, life is perfect. There’s no stress or pressure. No expectations to be anything other than who we are.
If only we could hide here forever.
He's quiet all day, chewing his lip and tapping melodies on his thigh like he does when he's deep in thought, but when I ask him what's wrong, he only shakes his head.
I give him the day to sort his thoughts, but when we tuck in for the night, he's still distracted.
Eric is the big spoon this time, wrapping his arms around me and anchoring me against his chest.
I can't wait any longer to dissect his thoughts. “Alright, spill it. What’s going on inside that brain?”
He hesitates, but finally says, “I’ve been thinking…”
“Well, that's never good,” I tease.
“Shut up,” he says with a laugh, then spins me to face him as he grows serious again. “I don't know how to… come out. Publicly.”
“Is that something you want to do?” I ask carefully. “You know you don't owe anyone an explanation, right?”
He nods slowly. “It's something I need to do, but the idea of stepping onto a stage and announcing it to the world is…”
“Scary?”
“Pants-shittingly terrifying,” he corrects. “I wish I had the courage to do that, but I don’t.”
I hum my understanding. “You don't have to do anything at all if you aren't ready.”
He shakes his head, meeting my eyes. “We can't spend forever like this.”
“Forever, huh?” I tease, and I can practically feel the burn of his cheeks.
“Shut up,” he mutters before clearing his throat. “Maybe we could do something more subtle, like… drop hints at shows? Get the rumor mill working for us instead of against us.”
“Explain,” I say as I hook his waist and hold him against me.
“The speculation is already out there, right? Instead of confirming or denying it, what if we give them a little more to talk about at each concert? I can grab your hand on stage or sing some of the more, uh, romantic lines while I’m near you.”
I allow him time to finish his thoughts, but he takes my silence as disagreement and backpedals.
“It’s a chickenshit way out,” he blurts. “I know that, and we don’t have to do it if you think it’s stupid—”
“Shh, hey, don’t spiral,” I soothe, brushing a rogue section of hair from his face. “I wasn't judging, just… processing. That's going to put a lot of pressure on you.”
“I know,” he says quietly.
“Are you sure you can handle that? You saw what happened when we only looked at each other too hard.”
“To be fair, those were some intense bedroom eyes,” he teases.
“There will be comments online, and speculation… trolls. People will say things that I don't want you to read.”
“I know that, and I think… I think I’ll be okay. We can build it up slowly… drop the breadcrumbs and let the rumors start swirling on their own. Once everyone’s already asking the question, answering it honestly seems easier than making a formal announcement.”
“Alright,” I concede. “And how long do we do this?”
Eric fidgets a little more, tapping his fingertips on my chest. “We have a couple of weeks until we stop at your parents’ place. I assumed you’d want to talk to them before we do anything official.”
I don't give two shits about telling my parents in any sort of formal capacity, but I recognize his need for a timeline. “That sounds like a plan,” I say softly as I nudge his nose with mine. “You understand I’d do absolutely anything for you, right? Not just in this, but in anything.”
“I know,” he whispers, squeezing me tighter against him. “Now shut up and kiss me.”
Our last full day here arrives with relentless rain tapping the windows like impatient fingers.
Eric's parents have returned to work, so the house is otherwise still and empty.
The band sprawls across couches and floor cushions in the den as we walk them through the plan together, keeping it simple and low-key.
I let Eric lead the conversation, even if the embarrassment is already coloring his cheeks before he opens his mouth.
“Honestly,” Tai drawls once we’re done, one eyebrow cocked, “if the two of you just go fuck in the dressing room, the entire audience will hear it and it’ll be done.”
Eric tries to smother his shock in a cough that comes out strangled. I narrow my eyes at Tai, half protective, half amused despite myself.
“Listen, bro,” Tai says, leaning forward with that trademark grin, “I’m just saying that one of you is a screamer, and we hear Eric’s voice often enough to recognize which it is.”
Eric's cheeks flame and his neck turns blotchy, the flush so vivid I can practically feel the heat burning off him.
Theo bounces in place, eyes sparkling like he’s been handed a secret mission. “Can I help plan the hints? It’ll be like a scavenger hunt!”
“Er, sure,” Eric replies, voice still a touch guarded, though the tiniest crack of a smile breaks through at Theo's enthusiasm.
“Oh, mother of pearl, I have so many ideas! What if you guys wear matching colors at each performance?”
“My entire wardrobe is black,” I deadpan.
Theo’s face falls as he taps his finger against his chin, deep in thought.
“Yeah, I guess that’s true. What if…” he trails off, then makes everyone jump when he inhales dramatically.
“What if Sticks drops one of his drumsticks—between songs, obviously—and you pick it up for him all sexy-like, rubbing his hand and shit?” Before either of us can say a word, he nods to himself.
“Yep, that’s good. I’m writing that one down. ”
Theo jots in his notebook, while Dante stares at him like he has two heads.
“What else, what else, what else,” Theo mutters as he brainstorms. “Fuck, why is it so hard to touch the drummer? You’ll get a concussion if you get too close during a song.”
Eric’s adorably shy as he offers a suggestion. “I was thinking that, um, during some of the slower songs, I could be closer to him again? That seemed to be a hit last time.”
“Yes,” Theo agrees, whipping his pencil back out. “Classics are popular for a reason. We'll go through lyrics and find a few lines for you to make goo-goo eyes at each other. Fuck. Yes.”
“Maybe they can hold hands and skip on stage while they’re at it,” Dante deadpans.
Theo stills, pen hovering, then nods slowly.
“Listen, I’m aware that you’re kidding, and I’m choosing to ignore the sassy attitude for now, but you may be on to something here.
Holding hands is too obvious, though. Definitely some touchy-touchy while we’re coming out…
no pun intended, although it was incredible timing. That’s a good one, Dante.”
I sit back, letting the chaos unfold with the corner of my mouth twitching despite my best efforts. “I can’t believe I have an idea to contribute to this,” I say. “But what if I let a pet name slip where his mic can pick it up? Like, when he hands me a water or something.”
“Genius,” Theo breathes, already scribbling like his life depends on it.
Eric’s teeth worry his lower lip, eyes moving over the group to take in the casual support, and his voice comes out soft. “Thanks, guys.”
Theo glances up, and for once the theatrics drop away. He scrambles over and throws his arms around Eric in a fierce hug. Eric returns it, strong arms closing around Theo’s smaller frame and holding tight like he’s anchoring himself to the moment.
“Are you kidding?” Theo says as he steps back. “Theatrics are like, my thing, so I’m loving this. But more importantly, we’ve got your back, dude. All of us.”
Agreement ripples through the room in quiet nods and soft affirmations, and Eric's relief is a palpable thing.
The perpetual tension in his shoulders unwinds and his breath seems to come easier.
These ridiculous, loyal idiots will tease him through the fear and stand beside him when the lights come up, and he's starting to believe he might not break under the weight of being seen.