Chapter 4 #2
They squeeze through a narrow, dimly lit corridor that pops out into a small bar area. No one looks at them with more than a passing glance; he doubts there’s much overlap between hockey fans and Sticks fans.
A doubt that is reinforced when, drinks in hand, they walk into the main body of the venue and see the packed-out crowd waiting eagerly for the opener to take the stage.
Nick has never seen so much black and so many Pride flags simultaneously in one room before.
Everyone’s dressed much like Marco and Lindsay, in black and mesh and leather and plaid.
A lot of the skin on display is tattooed, and dozens of facial piercings of all kinds flash when the lights catch them.
There are people with hair in all shades of the rainbow and all manner of styles, and Nick starts to feel a certain vibe.
The back of his neck starts to itch. Being here, in this crowd …
it feels right in the kind of way that has his palms sweating, his heart pounding.
The music might be out of his usual genre but the people …
these are his people—or they could be if he would let himself acknowledge it.
There are boys holding hands with other boys, girls pressing excited kisses to the lips of other girls, kids whose gender Nick wouldn’t dare to presume hugging their companions and grinning wide as they shuffle closer to the stage.
All of them, gathering here in this space that welcomes them, that celebrates them, that lets them be exactly who they are.
He should probably stop staring at teenagers. But … they just look so happy.
Nick isn’t sure he’s ever known that kind of happiness.
“You good, man?” Marco’s hot breath on his cheek snaps him out of his daze. He’s got one hand in Lindsay’s, stretched right out to tether her as she drifts towards the crowd. There’s concern in those dark eyes, and Nick hopes his smile doesn’t look as queasy as it feels.
“Yeah, I—” Whatever excuse he might’ve thought up dies in the ear-splitting screams of the crowd as five people stride out onto the stage. Lindsay jumps excitedly, tugging on her husband’s arm, and before Nick knows it the three of them are much closer to the crush of people.
The openers are … loud. That’s really the only word Nick can use to describe them. A beat that rattles his whole chest, wailing guitars and a lead singer who switches effortlessly between scream-singing and a surprisingly melodic tenor.
Nick doesn’t hate it, exactly, but he won’t be rushing out to buy their album.
Soon they’re leaving the stage, and his heart lodges itself firmly in his throat.
This is it. Marco grabs him by the biceps, grinning and bumping their foreheads together like they’re about to hit the ice.
Nick can’t help but grin back, forcing away his weird feelings and trepidation and whatever the hell else Matt makes him feel.
He’s at a cool concert with his two best friends and he wants to enjoy it—it doesn’t need to be any more complicated than that.
At least, it shouldn’t be, but then Matt jogs out on stage in a cropped black tank top and bright-red skinny jeans, and all Nick can think is oh, fuck, he’s hot.
He’s vibrant up there, in constant motion as his band settles themselves with their instruments. Nick’s ears ring from the volume of the screams. One kid is full-on sobbing, staring up at the stage with an arm outstretched and eyeliner smearing down their cheeks.
Nick gets it.
Even if he hadn’t spent the last week almost obsessively listening to their entire discography, he would’ve been sucked in from the first song regardless.
Matt is born to be up there, bouncing as he plays his guitar, face animated as he sings.
When he isn’t playing, he’s got the mic in hand and is striding up and down the stage, dancing along with the beat.
They sound ten times better live than they do on the album, and Nick is mesmerized.
After the first song ends, Matt returns to his mic stand a little breathless, and his eyes seem to scan the room—specifically, the VIP section. He catches Nick’s eye, and his smile widens. He winks, lightning fast, before heading straight into the next song.
“What the fuck!” Lindsay screams in his ear, hanging off his side. “What the fuck was that! I saw that!”
It’s a good thing Nick can’t feel his heartbeat over the vibrations of the bass, because he’s pretty sure it skipped at least two beats. God, he’s so screwed.
Matt finishes the second song with his face mashed up against Joel’s as they sing into the same microphone, and before they part ways Matt kisses his cheek exaggeratedly, sending a whole new wave of screams through the crowd.
He’s laughing when he gets to his own mic, pulling it from the stand.
“Well, damn, that felt good!” he says. “How we all doing tonight?”
Nick cheers along with everyone else in the venue.
“Hell yeah. You’re all beautiful, look at you,” Matt continues.
“Thanks for coming out here tonight—Vegas is actually our hometown now, so it’s super rad to see so many of you supporting us.
” That gets another huge cheer, and Matt chuckles.
“Since we’re still getting used to being Vegas-ites—Vegas-ans?
Vegans? No, wait, that’s already a thing.
” He frowns lopsidedly, and when he shakes his head his damp hair flops onto his forehead.
“See, I’m so new to this town I don’t even know what the word is!
But since we’re so new, we’re gonna play it nice and cool, keep it chill, take it easy.
Y’know, it’s always hard to guess where the boundaries are when you move somewhere new.
What the vibe is.” The cheer in response seems knowing, and Matt nods.
“See, you guys get it, you get me! Can’t go too hard too soon.
” An exaggerated pause, and then a devilish grin that makes Nick’s spine tingle.
“So this is a song called ‘Boys On My Mind’, and it’s about exactly what you think it is. Let’s dance.”
Screaming drowns out the first few notes of Joel’s guitar, but then Matt starts playing alongside him, a fast-paced rhythm that has him rocking back and forth, feet planted wide. The motion is far too sexual for Nick’s poor gay heart, and from the sound of the crowd he’s not the only one suffering.
The lights flash a rainbow of colors through the chorus. Nick puts his hands up with the rest of the crowd, his own voice meshing with a thousand other voices as they sing about being unable to stop thinking about boys, no matter how hard they try.
Nick’s chest feels like it’s going to split open in a way that has nothing to do with the volume and everything to do with the absolute euphoria he’s experiencing in this moment, here with his friends and these strangers who can understand him on a level most of the people in his life could never possibly touch, able to scream out these things that he’s had locked up inside him since he was thirteen years old and studying the curve of Michael Stanton’s jaw from the back of Geography class.
The song flows straight into something a little slower, and Casey joins in with the vocals, her raspy voice harmonizing beautifully with Matt’s.
Nick watches the man close his eyes for a few beats, tipping his head back like he’s taking it all in.
The song is an anthem, and the crowd knows it too—the chorus hits and Matt stops singing, but it doesn’t matter because everybody here knows the words.
Matt and Casey join back in for the last few lines, picking it up for the verse, and by the time they finish Matt is wide-eyed.
“Goddamn, I’ll never get used to that,” he remarks, awed. The crowd whoops, jostling in closer. “Oh, I’ve missed this! We took a break for a little bit because the last tour kinda kicked our butts, but it’s so nice to be back! Let’s keep it going, we got all night.”
Suddenly, Matt’s looking back out towards the VIP area again; not so much that anyone might notice, but enough for Nick to know he’s maybe possibly looking at him. “Gonna throw it back to the early days for ya, friends. This next song goes out to a guy I know—he knows exactly what he is.”
Oh, no, Nick thinks—but then he’s laughing, because it’s the opening chords of “Spit Your Teeth Out”.
Marco turns to check on him and, upon catching his expression, starts laughing as well.
He reaches out, ruffling Nick’s hair. “Oh, he’s got your number, bro!
” he crows, voice hoarse from singing. Nick feels his cheeks darken further, but he just shoves him away and moves closer to Lindsay instead, dancing with her and singing loudly, shamelessly, to this song about being a pest that a hot boy has just secretly sort-of dedicated to him.
It’s the most fun he’s had since he last won the Stanley Cup.