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There were many parts of Peter’s life that he accepted he just couldn’t change. He couldn’t change the freckles on his face, he couldn’t change that he was a little slow around people, and he couldn’t change that he was in love with his bandmates.
It was just a part of his life, a simple little fact. The sky was blue, he played bass, and he was in love with his bandmates. It was easy.
He can’t remember when it started, but he can remember the first time he noticed. Micky and Davy were bickering about something, and Mike was in the middle of it all trying to calm them down and make them eat their breakfast. It was surprisingly natural when Peter thought ‘I love them.’
Since then it’s just been something he’d lived with, stuck on to the way he saw the world. It was easy to love them, to find the things they didn’t want to see, and to love them anyway. His mother always said he had a lot of love to give, and Peter thought he must have a lot to be so head over heels for his roommates.
Sometimes, it affected things. Threw them off-kilter. Sometimes it made his heart beat so fast that he swore he was dying, or made all the emotions in his brain swell so loudly that he had to go escape to the beach for a while. Sometimes, when he saw the way Mike looked at him, he let hope fester in his chest. Sometimes, when Davy smiled at him when they shared a mic, Peter let his eyes linger a little too long. Sometimes, when Micky laughed and slung his arm around Peter’s shoulders, Peter let himself lean into the touch and imagine it was something more.
It was manageable, under control.
Late at night, he let himself wonder what they would think if he told them. Would they just accept it was another part of Peter they had to live with? Like how they had to turn the clock off because the ticking was driving him insane, or how Micky always made sure Peter fell asleep first when they slept in the same room because he knew that Peter couldn’t stand the sound of snoring.
Would they take it apart? Pick at the little threads of his affection until it was nothing, just hollow. Laugh at how silly it was that Peter had ever felt that way and ignore the sting he feels in his chest.
Or would they say okay, and let Peter love them the way they deserved? Kisses pressed into cheeks, skin-to-skin contact, hugs, and laughter at stolen kisses.
It wasn’t worth thinking about. But Peter couldn’t help himself.
Peter got his answer on a sunny spring morning, the remnants of winter chill still hanging in the air, before the summer slipped in. Mike was on the phone with a club owner they had organized a gig with. Micky was still half-asleep and Davy was talking about some girl he saw the other day with half-hearted interest.
Mike slammed the phone receiver down and sulked into the kitchen, sinking into his chair where his cereal had turned soggy. “The club owner canceled on us.”
“What?” That woke Micky up at least. “We were supposed to play there tonight!”
“I know,” Mike huffed.
“They say why?” Davy asked around a mouthful of cereal.
Mike stuttered, opened his mouth then closed it again. “He said,” Mike stabbed his spoon into the cereal. “He said he didn’t want-“ He cut himself off again and shoved the cereal into his mouth. He grimaced at the soggy texture. “He didn’t want a bunch of long-haired weirdos playing at his club.” He was silent for a second. “He said he thought we were a bunch of queers.”
The table was silent, Peter didn’t want to look at them. He didn’t want them to know.
“We ain’t a bunch of-“ Mike muttered to himself. “We ain’t queers.” He spat the word like he was trying to convince himself more than them.
There were two directions this conversation could go in. One could end in disaster, but the other could end in something much worse, a lie, hiding. It was dangerous, Peter knew that, but he couldn’t help himself.
“We aren’t?” He asked, his eyes quickly glanced up to meet theirs before darting back down.
The silence at the table was different, before it was sullen, shocked, resigned. Now it was palpable, charged.
“I just thought,” He continued. “Well, I know I am at least.” He didn’t look up. He wanted to savor the image of his bandmates he kept in his head. Laughter and smiles. Peter didn’t think he could bear to see their faces twisted in disgust at his confession.
“Oh thank god, I thought I was the only one.” Micky laughed, a short quick sound, too high pitched to be his normal laughter. He was nervous. Peter looked up from under his lashes and met Micky’s eyes. Peter felt his heartbeat pounding a steady rhythm like it was Micky playing it. “Guys, girls, they’re both the same to me.” He said, his voice still wavering with that light nervous pitch.
“You can do that?” Davy asked, his brows furrowed. Micky shrugged as if to say sure. Davy smiled, one of his rare smiles that showed all the joy he was feeling. This was getting dangerous for Peter’s heart. “Groovy,” he said, shyly ducking his head. “I think I’d like to do that.”
This was unexpected, something Peter only let himself think about in the middle of the night. A warm feeling spread throughout Peter’s chest. The puzzle pieces were starting to fit together, making the picture he had dreamed of whole. The puzzle wasn’t complete yet though; there was a piece missing.
Peter risked a glance at Mike. His hand was clenched dangerously tight around his spoon, knuckles turning white. His brown eyes were fixed on the table, but far away, lost inside himself.
“Michael,” Peter said, his voice gentle. “Are you okay?” Micky and Davy’s eyes watched Mike carefully like he was some untamed animal who was about to lash out.
Mike dropped the spoon and pushed himself away from the dining table. He clambered up the spiral staircase and slammed the door to his and Micky’s room shut. Micky jumped up from his seat but was stopped by Davy with a hand on his arm.
“I think he needs some time to himself,” Davy mumbled. The three of them sat there for a minute, waiting. Watching the door, watching each other.
The warm feeling Peter had in his chest had dissipated, a cold hollow left in its wake. He wasn’t alone though. That was enough to bring a small smile to his face. He wasn’t alone.
They eventually migrated to the couch, all still in their pajamas. The silence Mike left followed them before it was broken by Davy.
“So, liking both, ‘ow does that work?” He was asking Micky, doing something to relieve the quiet around them. Peter sat on the end of the couch, legs brought up to his chest as he watched them from the corner of his eye.
“I don’t know, girls are pretty, guys are pretty.” Micky shrugged. “That’s about it.” Davy rolled his eyes.
“But ‘ow do you know?” He asked like it was obvious.
“How do you know you like girls?” Micky asked in retaliation. Davy went quiet.
“I just do,” He said. “I like kissing, ‘em.”
“There you go then,” Micky said. Peter was sure they could all feel the unasked question in the air, waiting for someone to ask it first.
“I don’t know if I like kissing guys though,” Davy said, quietly. Peter’s beating heart had swelled with hope. He had already been brave once today, he could be brave again.
“Do you want to find out?” He asked lightly, innocently. Like it was nothing, and they could forget about it if they wanted to. Davy and Micky both looked at him, something in their eyes akin to wonder. A want Peter had seen before, but never directed at him.
“Okay,” Davy said and moved over to sit pressed against Peter’s side. They looked at each other, both a little unsure of how to continue. Then, like it was just another girl of the week, Davy ducked forward and pressed his mouth lightly to Peter’s. It was nothing more than a little peck, but Peter’s heart was pounding, his blood rushing through his veins. Everything was loud and he could feel every presence in the room like it was right next to him.
Davy pulled back. Little sparkles glittered in his eyes. Peter leaned forward and pressed another kiss to Davy’s lips, almost crying when Davy brought his hands up to cup Peter’s face.
A kiss to his lips, to his cheek, the side of his nose, the corner of his mouth. It was all too much, but Peter couldn’t pull himself away.
A squeak from the other side of the couch caught their attention. They pulled apart and looked over to see Micky. His face flushed and eyes wide as he watched them. It didn’t feel weird to Peter that he and Davy were being watched. It felt natural, easy. Like it was supposed to happen.
“Sorry,” Micky ducked his head, his curls covering his eyes. “Don’t mind me,” His voice was still light and nervous, with a little strain to it.
Peter and Davy glanced at each other, a silent understanding that this was okay, they both wanted this.
“Mick,” Davy reached out and grabbed Micky’s hand, which was bunched in the fabric of his pants. Micky looked up at Davy, the flush on his face made Peter’s heart flutter. “Would you care to join us?” Davy asked, far too casually, but they all understood what he was asking. Do you want this too?
Micky didn’t answer, but he rushed forward and captured Davy’s lips in a far more heated kiss. He pushed Davy back until he was laying down on the couch, his head resting against Peter’s thigh. Peter carded his hands through Davy’s hair, reveling in the softness.
They broke apart and Micky looked up at Peter, his eyes widened and pupils vast seas of caramel brown. Peter leaned down and pressed small kisses to his lips. He was different from Davy, but it was beautiful. Davy giggled from underneath them and both Peter and Micky turned their attention to the man below them.
Peter ran his hands through Davy’s hair, pressing small kisses to his forehead, while Micky tucked himself into Davy’s side and kissed him softly.
“I really like you guys,” Peter whispered, not wanting to ruin the softness of the moment. The smiles he received in return matched the ones he saw in his dreams.
“I like you guys too,” Micky whispered, his voice the same volume as Peter’s. Davy pressed another kiss to Micky’s face and looked up at Peter, pulling him down by the shirt to kiss him softly.
Then the upstairs bedroom door opened, and things shifted.
Mike made his way down the spiral staircase, well aware of the three pairs of eyes following him. Micky and Davy sat up, although all three of them were still pressed together. Mike carefully avoided looking at them, whether out of disgust or embarrassment, Peter couldn’t tell.
Peter looked at Micky and Davy, asking silently what to do. He could see the decision forming, could see the understanding that this was it. This is what they had wanted.
“Michael,” Peter called to Mike, who was cleaning up the abandoned breakfast on the table. Mike didn’t look at him. “Michael, we should talk.”
Micky detached himself from Peter and Davy, a lingering hand brushed over their arms as he hesitantly walked to the kitchen. Davy’s hand slipped into Peter’s, and the warmth that had made itself home in Peter’s chest got a little bigger.
“Mike,” Micky started “If you’re upset about this-“
“It’s fine,” Mike’s accent was heavy, his words drawn out but still sharp. “I don’t care, y'all be whatever.”
Peter and Davy slipped off the couch and came up behind Micky, hands still intertwined. Davy put his other hand in Micky’s, smiling gently at him, trying to hide his nervousness.
“What about you, Mike?” Davy asked. Mike still refused to look at them and instead started rinsing out the bowls in their sink. His brows furrowed, eyes concentrated solely on the bowl he was wiping clean. His hands shook slightly.
“This ain’t about me,” He said. His words had that sharp edge to him that Peter knew better than to challenge, but the way his voice shook made him think that maybe, this time, Mike needed to be challenged.
Peter released Davy’s hand and went and stood next to Mike, helping him with the dishes. He could feel Mike tense next to him. Peter slowly rested his head on Mike’s shoulder, giving him enough time to push Peter away. He didn’t. They washed the dishes together and Peter felt the puzzle piece sliding into place when Mike rested his head on Peter’s.
Soon, Davy and Micky joined them, Micky came up from behind and wrapped his arms around Mike’s middle; slow, just as Peter had done. Davy went to Mike’s other side, linking their arms together and loosely intertwining their hands.
They stood there together, the missing piece in its place, trying to make Mike understand that this was it.
“I’m sorry,” Mike mumbled. “I shouldn’t have run out on y’all like that.” He buried his face in Peter’s hair, muffling his words further. “I was… scared.”
It was rare for Mike to be so open about his feelings, even more rare to be apologizing. It was serious, they could all feel it. This wasn’t an exploratory thing they would get bored of. This was intimate, not heavy, but genuine.
“It’s okay,” Peter said, and it was. It would take time to figure this thing out. But it would all be okay. Peter let himself be a little braver and pressed a kiss into Mike’s shoulder. We’re scared too, the kiss said, we want this too.
He felt Mike smile into his hair, and he twisted around in Micky’s arms to face them. Micky smiled up at Mike, as did Davy who still held Mike’s hand. They took their turns giving Mike gentle kisses, each one a reminder that it was okay.
Mike pressed a quick kiss to Peter’s forehead and finally, it all became too much. He hid in the space between Mike’s shoulder and neck, letting them show him the love he had always wanted. Boyfriends, he thought, is that what they are now? They would figure it out later, Peter promised himself.
Together they stood, pressed against each other in their kitchen. A promise in each of their kisses, their touches. It would all be okay, they would figure it out.
Peter didn’t think he wanted this part of his life to change at all.