Chapter 41
NEVER SAY DIE
The crowd isn’t handling Michael’s absence well—they haven’t the entire fucking set.
All I want is to finish up, find Lex, and go crawl into a bed.
Doesn’t have to even be a full-sized one.
I’d settle for my damn bunk. It’s the strangest feeling, too.
Being heartbroken but heartsick at the same time.
Missing them both, but in completely different ways.
The only thing keeping me together is knowing that Lex is mine again.
He’s all I have left.
Flicking my eyes to the side of the stage, I don’t find Lex anywhere. I know he went to fetch Michael from whatever alcohol induced hole he’s fallen into, but only finding Eli standing there makes me worry.
What if Michael flips out on him, too? I might end up killing him if that’s the case. If he says or does anything to Lex…
Don’t think about it.
Thankfully, we are on our last song. Somehow, this tour feels worse than the last one.
While it’s mostly the same, there’s one key difference.
The camaraderie is gone. We are all sequestered into little groups instead of the family we used to be.
And I get it. Most of them are in love, have new things to look forward to besides the band and music. Still doesn’t make it any less shitty.
I’m not the most optimistic on my best day, but I’m trying here. Trying to just…move on. Focus on the good still in my life. I’m healthy, my other friends are still here and doing well, and Lex and I are finally in a place where things can grow and thrive.
It’s…fine.
I’ll live without Michael even if it’s the last thing I want.
“You guys have been a seriously bad ass crowd! Thanks for coming out!” Jorge calls into the microphone, and the fans eat it up.
I guess they’ve already moved on from the fact that we are missing our lead guitarist…
Taking that as my cue, I sling off my bass, hand it to some unnamed roadie—I should really learn their names—and disappear backstage. A shower is definitely needed, but I can wash up after I check on Lex.
I offer Eli a clipped nod, weave past him, and navigate to the exit. Our bus is parked around back, isolated from the rest of the parking lot and rowdy concertgoers.
The closer I get to the end of the building, the more fucked up I feel. I promised Michael no one would replace him, and here we are, doing just that.
As much as I hate to admit it, Oli fucking killed it tonight.
His guitar talent is unmatched—he can learn entire songs after hearing them only once or twice.
And Michael isn’t exactly playing some watered-down bullshit leads.
He blends classical scales with technical notes, creating something truly unique.
But Oli knew them. Every note he played flawlessly, and I hate that I can’t tell Michael he was needed.
He wasn’t.
We sounded better tonight, more cohesive as a group.
Maybe I’m just bitter.
Yeah, that’s got to be what it is. I’m bitter and angry and hurt after all the crap he’s put me through, only to basically give me the finger and spit in my face.
It’s not my fault he’s off in Narnia, denying the obvious, and refusing to return to reality.
I didn’t make him stuff his dick in my ass.
I didn’t make him kiss me. The chemistry and want have always been there.
And if I didn’t handle it right or if I said the wrong words, all he had to do was tell me.
I would have done anything to fix it, to make it all easier on him. Hell, I’ve kept my distance for a year.
He crossed those lines, not me.
He put me in a position that I couldn’t fight even if I wanted to.
I push through the back door, taking in the crisp night air and watching my breath float up into the sky.
I’m not going to end up like my ma, chasing after men who fuck me up inside and outside, leave me bleeding on the floor without two fucks given that they put me there.
While it might’ve started toxic, I know what Lex and I have changed.
I’m taking him on a date the next time we have an off day.
He wants movies, dinners, and long walks on the beach.
He wants to hold hands, crack jokes, and kiss in public.
If he wants to go to Disneyland and melt in those fucking ridiculously long lines, we’ll do it.
If he wants to run away to the mountains for the weekend, we can do that too.
I might be broken, but I’m ready to give him all my pieces.
I’m ready to trust him with all of me.
Fuck the past.
Fuck how we started.
I only care where we end up.
Focused solely on him and that promised cuddle session in bed, I walk to the bus. I kind of feel like smiling. He’s going to squirm when I grab him and pull him to my chest.
He’s still getting used to how handsy I am, and he can’t stand when I’m sweaty after a show. He really is such a fucking princess.
Smirking at the thought, I swing open the door, climb the steps, and…
Heart-stopping.
People say that shit all the time, but I never felt it until now. It’s more than your heart hitching in your chest—a fatal pause before blood forces it to pump and restart. And after, it’s never quite the same, is it?
That memory of how it worked before, just before one moment nearly killed you.
Visions of something I’ve never had blur my sight.
Disney ears, candlelit dinners, fingers tangled together, soft kisses on a moving sidewalk. Whispered confessions, fits of laughter, suits, and wedding bells.
They all just…vanish.
What about Michael?
I’ll tell you about fucking Michael.
He’s currently cradling Lex’s face, fingers tangled together, and kissing him in a way that’s too soft and too familiar to be anything other than the death of both relationships.
Maybe I presumed too much too soon. Maybe I let my heart do the thinking instead of my brain.
All I know is that I can’t unsee this, no matter how much I try to blink the sight away.
What’s even worse is how neither of them pulls away until I choke.
Lex rips his mouth away from Michael, eyes wide with fear and guilt and patheticness. Michael may as well be a deer in headlights, blinking several times like I’m a fucking apparition.
“Devon,” Lex pleads. His betrayal laced thick in his voice.
“Fuck, Dev, just listen—”
My blood rushes to my ears, a loud whooshing that blocks out their attempts to defend themselves.
In between the beats of my pulse, I catch words like please and it’s not what you think.
What’s the point in arguing? Fighting? Fucking caring?
I knew something was going on with them for a long time. But I convinced myself that it was just jealousy. That I’m so used to being too much, too needy. Of course, no one would want me. Too gay for Michael, too pushy for Lex…apparently, they just needed me to bring them together.
Kisses.
Soft touches.
Michael didn’t hurt Lex like he hurt me.
He’s not screaming in his face, telling him he makes him want to puke.
The laugh bursts from me, sharp and painful.
All the emotions overwhelm me as I start to hyperventilate.
My howls turn sadder, more desperate, and I bend over, choking again as the intensity takes hold.
“I’m so sorry,” Lex says, his voice one pitch above being a fucking whine.
“I shouldn’t have,” Michael slurs. “God damn it.”
“I was going to tell you, I just didn’t know how,” Lex keeps going, his words falling out of him like vomit. “I’ve been so confused, and you two weren’t talking, and I didn’t want to make it worse.”
“Worse?!” I roar, standing straight and facing them. I throw my arms out and gesture to the scene. “And this makes it better? Going behind my back and— You know what? I don’t care. Fuck this. Fuck you both. I’m done. I’m fucking done!”
“It’s not his fault,” Michael defends. “I came on to him. It was me!”
“Of course it was you! That’s the only way you can do anything anymore!
BY FORCE!” I scream, then aim all my pain and anger at Lex.
“I hope he rips you apart just like you did to me. I hope he tells you how fucking disgusting you are and how much you make him hate himself. I knew you were a mean son of a bitch, Lewis, but I didn’t think you were cruel. Now I know.”
It shouldn’t hurt to see him cry. I should feel nothing. When Lex holds his face in his hands, sobbing into his palms, I feel another one of my broken pieces fall off.
Michael has the audacity to keep his mouth shut.
“Did you tell him?” I demand, pointing at our manager. Because that’s all he is. Our tiny tyrant from hell.
Our mighty monster.
"You didn’t, did you?" I laugh again, tears streaming down my cheeks like acid trails. "You want to know why Michael hasn’t said a word to me all tour? It’s because he can’t stand that he fucked his best friend.
Every time he looks at me, he remembers how good his cock felt in my asshole.
And he hates me for it. Well, congratulations, Michael.
I hate you more—for taking this from me, for destroying the one thing I had left.
I wish I had never fucking met you. Either of you. "
Not wanting to stand there for a single second longer, I rush out of the bus.
I can’t be here.
I can’t fucking be here.
My hands keep clenching and unclenching, the urge to hit something getting stronger with each step I take.
Eventually, the urge turns into a need, and I snap, slamming my fist into the first hard surface I find. A car window.
The glass cracks, but doesn’t shatter.
It needs to break.
Needs to crumble to the point it's irreparable.
I punch it again.
And again.
Skin peels from my knuckles, my bones crack.
But the pain feels so far away.
I can still see my reflection.
It’s not enough.
When the glass finally shatters, spraying the seat and my boots, I scream.
Hugging my ruined hand to my chest, I walk into the night.
I don’t know where I’ll go or what I’ll do, but if I get back on that bus, I’ll become my dad.
And that can’t happen.
No matter how much I want it to.
TO BE CONTINUED