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Lips hadn't intended to make it public. He didn't even know what it was, exactly, that he was making public. But now the whole world knew about him and Zoot.
In the leadup to their show at Outside Lands, the band had been doing so many interviews that they all blurred together. But this particular one stood out. Zoot had been sleeping on Lips' shoulder, which wasn't an unusual occurrence. The reporter had been trying to ask Zoot a question, something about life on the road, so Lips mumbled to him to try and wake him up - also not unusual. But then Lips lowered his face to be level with Zoot's, and Zoot, still half-asleep, had kissed him.
That was just how they always were. Just how the band always was, really. But it was in front of a camera this time. And that got everyone's attention.
Lips never thought he and Zoot would suddenly become news items. They'd always been so private, letting everything between them go unspoken and undefined. And now every time he opened his phone, he saw some new headline about them. The last time he'd checked, someone had started a rumor that they were engaged. Now it was turning into a rumor that they were already secretly married.
Worse, he kept getting asked about it during interviews. With every new question, there was some new label being put on them, before they'd ever really gotten a chance to do so themselves. None of it sounded right. He didn't know what he was to Zoot, except in love with him, and that had always been enough.
He didn't want anything to change between them. But there was something about everybody knowing and everybody talking that made it feel like there'd been some slight shift in the universe he couldn't put his finger on.
Or as Floyd put it - whispering to Lips during yet another interview, while Dr. Teeth was patiently explaining for the tenth time that day that the band really had no frontman - "These interviews, man. They ain't pickin' up what we're puttin' down."
Lips nodded; he knew that all too well. He spoke up with a few mumbles in support of Dr. Teeth's answer, and just hoped to himself that this would all be worth it when it came time for their concert. But really, all these interviews were wearing him down far more than he let on.
All it took was Zoot's little nod in the direction of the van. Lips knew what that meant, and he had to take Zoot up on his offer to sneak back there and partake in a little relaxation. He needed to clear his mind somehow.
So Lips found himself in the very backseat of the van, watching the smoke curling from Zoot's mouth as Zoot leaned back against his chest. Zoot pulled Lips' head down to pass it to him in a kiss, slow and lazy, savoring every second of it.
"Thizzizo much bebba thannaw those innaboos," Lips mumbled into the crook of Zoot's neck. He knew the rest of the band wasn't going to be happy with them, and rightfully so, but it was hard to think about that right now, sitting there with a completely blissed-out Zoot in his arms.
Lips trailed a few kisses along his neck before resting his chin on Zoot's slumping shoulder. That usual little hunch of his had been more pronounced since they'd started their press tour for the concert, and Lips couldn't help but notice it, and worry about it. He asked, "Izzis helbin' ya back addaw?"
"My back?" Zoot repeated blearily.
"Yeh, been huddin' ya laley, hazzinit?"
Zoot nodded, almost imperceptibly, but Lips felt it against his cheek.
"Y'know, Jan's been teejin' me howda gibba mazzage. I can try tha' ifya wanna."
"Yeah, man, I'm sure she'll really like that."
"No, I mennon you."
"Oh. Why didn't you say so?" Zoot leaned forward even further, and Lips sat back and stretched out his arms.
"Redda, Blue?" Lips began to slide his hands along Zoot's back. His fingers caught on something, and Zoot winced.
A small, golden feather was poking out from the back of Zoot's shirt. Must've been from that bird Animal was chasing the other day, Lips thought. He brushed it away and kept going, trying to remember what Janice had taught him about the different techniques.
But wherever Lips touched, more and more feathers started to sprout. The first ones were small and dense and fluffy, then they fanned out past his fingertips. Lips' instinct should've been to freeze, to pull away, but he couldn't resist continuing to smooth his hands over the feathers, more fascinated by them than alarmed. The feathers became longer and thinner the further they grew from Zoot's back, until each wing finally came to a pointed tip, reaching the windows of the van on both sides.
Lips held his breath. No other feathers appeared. Whatever unknown force had caused whole wings to materialize on Zoot's back, it seemed to have finished its work. For a moment, Lips could only stare at them in awe.
Then they flapped sharply, with an abrupt woosh, like the sound of an umbrella popping open. As if they'd just been waiting to be set free. Zoot, still staring straight ahead, stretched his shoulders and absentmindedly smacked his lips together.
"Thanks, man. I feel a lot better now." He kept staring directly in front of him, and didn't elaborate.
Lips let the silence hang in the air, because he didn't know what other choice he had. He didn't even know if this was really happening. But he wasn't so far gone that he should be hallucinating wings, not even close.
Finally he said, "Blue, y- ya hab wings."
Zoot glanced over his shoulder at one of them. "Hmm." He gave an approving little nod and turned back around.
Lips had to ask. "Yahnot dead, are ya?"
Zoot reached up and felt his face, went under his hat to feel the top of his head, then pinched himself on the arm. "I don't think so."
"Well... thazza relief," was all Lips could think to say. Not that Zoot seemed to think the wings warranted much of a response anyway. Somehow, when it came to Zoot, Lips always ended up feeling like he was the one who was missing something.
* * *
Once Lips got over the initial shock, there was something absurdly funny about seeing Zoot's small, slouching frame adorned with these huge, unwieldy wings. Especially the way that Zoot seemed blissfully unaware of them, going about his day just the same as if they weren't there. His wings often seemed more alert than he was, reacting to the world around him even when the rest of Zoot didn't.
They fluttered wildly when he played the sax; the sound seemed to vibrate across them, like wind blowing through the feathers. Whenever the flash of his camera went off, a glow would ripple all the way to the tips of his wings.
When the band stopped at a motel for the night - nothing special, but it was nice to have a bed and a shower for a change - Lips helped Zoot wash his wings for the first time, and he used the entire little bottle of shampoo on one wing alone. And when the band got in one big pile to sleep, Lips buried his face in that wing, breathing in the scent of cheap motel soap like it was the sweetest thing in the world.
What woke him in the middle of the night, though, was something much more unsettling. Out of nowhere, Zoot's hat landed directly on his face.
Lips picked it up and stared at it. From up above him, he heard a casual little "hey."
Lips' head snapped up, only for him to see Zoot hovering upside-down, his feet touching the ceiling and his hair dangling down towards the bed. Zoot whispered down at him, "What are you guys doin' on the ceiling?"
Lips' eyebrows shot up at that. "Yothawun thazonna zeelin', boy."
"I am?" A disoriented look washed over him as the realization hit. His wings flapped erratically, and the creases around his mouth grew even deeper as he struggled to get right-side-up. "I don't think I'm so good at this flying thing."
Lips glanced over at the rest of the band, asleep on the bed, and all he could envision was Zoot falling on them and leaving no survivors. He got up and stood in the middle of the floor, reaching out a hand to Zoot.
"Here, lemmezee if I capuwya down."
As soon as Zoot took his hand, he plummeted from the ceiling, and Lips was knocked flat on the floor.
* * *
The next morning, Janice was applying ice to the bump on Lips' head. Lips watched a slight frown cross her face as she considered the question he'd just asked her.
"Mm, no, I've fer sure never seen wings come out during a massage." She paused, trying to think of a way to spin this into a positive for Lips. "Maybe that just means you're, like, a rully good masseuse. Like, so good it's heavenly."
Floyd, who had been laying across both their laps, suddenly sat up. "Hey, are you saying I'm not? I ain't never seen wings come out of you when I give you a massage."
Janice kissed his cheek, batting her eyelashes against it. "I do have wings, babe. They're on my heart."
"Aww, ain't that sweet." Floyd laid back down upon hearing that. "Entirely unprovable, but sweet."
Lips, meanwhile, was scrolling through the comments section of another article about him and Zoot. It was nothing but more speculation, more people wondering how the outgoing, lovable trumpeter of the band, who could date any celebrity he wanted to, had ended up with the spaced-out, burnt-out saxophonist who replied to every question with "huh?" or "what?" like he was on some other planet.
Wait until they got a load of the wings, Lips thought.
Speaking of Zoot's wings, they were the only part of Zoot that was visible right now. They were wrapped around him like a blanket, with only a hint of his bald spot peeking out from underneath as he slept peacefully across the bed. He even slept through Animal vigorously tugging on his feathers with a sing-songy "WAKE UP!", and through all of Teeth's failed efforts to get Animal to chill out.
Lips was so busy watching them that he didn't notice Floyd peering at the phone in his hand, until Floyd asked, "Whatcha lookin' at on that thingamabob, anyway? I can't see all them tiny words."
Since Lips had the sole communal phone of the group, the others would sometimes get curious about it. Except for Zoot. He didn't care; he never even noticed it. Lips wished he could be more like that. The problem with being the only band member connected to the rest of the world was that he couldn't tune it out sometimes.
"Nubbin, Flo, iz juj... geebuh bezzeda, thazzaw." Lips mumbled, trying to angle his phone out of view.
"Ooh, what's this?" Janice looked over his shoulder and read the headline out loud: "'Mayhem Members Walk Out of Interview Amid Romance Rumors. What Does It Mean?'"
Floyd sat up again. "I'll tell you what it means. It means you left us high and dry, man." He paused. "Or just dry."
While Floyd laughed at his own joke, Lips glanced down at his phone again. In just the time since he'd last checked, he'd gotten ten new text messages. Moog was congratulating him on his engagement to Zoot, and Paul McCartney was offering to sing at their wedding.
He shut his phone off before Janice and Floyd could see. He already had too many questions in his head about his relationship with Zoot; he didn't need any more. He looked over at Zoot again, still sleeping in his wings without a care in the world. The truth about them was even stranger than anything the tabloids could make up.
* * *
Sleeping in the van was just as good as any motel room to Lips. As long as he was surrounded by the rest of the band, there wasn't anything else he could ask for. So when the van parked up in the hills somewhere outside of San Francisco, two nights before their show, Lips was sure he'd sleep straight through to the morning.
But at some point in the night, Lips woke with a start, and he had no idea why. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary at first - he was right where he'd fallen asleep, cuddled against Dr. Teeth's side. Squinting in the darkness, he peered over to Teeth's other side, where Zoot had been sleeping. Zoot wasn't there. Lips bolted upright and cast his eyes around the van - Zoot wasn't anywhere. He mumbled an "ohno" when he looked up and saw that the sunroof was open.
Once he'd stepped outside of the van, he darted the beam of his phone's flashlight around from place to place, wondering exactly how high up he should be looking for Zoot. He had his answer when he spotted a golden feather on the ground, then another, leading to a tree with several more feathers scattered beneath it. He craned his neck upwards.
"Lips?" Zoot was doubled over a branch, barely hanging onto it. His voice was as nonchalant as ever, but his wings were trembling. "I'm really not good at this flying thing."
Lips eyed the length of the tree. Zoot had managed to get himself pretty far up in it. Nevertheless, Lips started to climb. "I gahya, Blue."
As soon as he reached the branch, Zoot clung to him. Once Lips helped him find his footing, they settled next to each other in sitting positions, and Lips smiled to himself, remembering that this wasn't the first time he'd been in a tree with Zoot.
"Thizzi remimin' me owhen we did Rockarobin."
Zoot tilted his head at him. "Why's that?"
"Wewuh inna tree fothawun, Blue."
"Oh. Right."
Back then, Zoot had been such a mystery to him. In some ways, he still was. With his wings, he looked otherworldly in the moonlight, and Lips felt like he was looking at him from a distance even though he was right beside him. It was as if there was a part of Zoot that Lips could never quite reach - as if Lips would always have one foot on the ground and never really be able to go with him wherever he might fly.
Now that he was perched safely on the branch, Zoot drew his wings in front of him and examined them. He picked at a few of the feathers that were standing on end, then looked up at Lips. "I think these wings are busted or something."
They didn't seem all that busted to Lips, but then again, he didn't know what wings on a person were supposed to look like, busted or not. So he asked, "Wazza fee like? Whenya tryina fy?"
Zoot gazed off into the sky with a faraway look, humming the saxophone part of "Rockin' Robin." No matter what he forgot, he at least remembered the music. Finally, he answered, "Just feels like I got nothing to hold onto."
That gave Lips a thought. Maybe it was like teaching a kid to ride a bike; that trick of holding onto the bike for a little bit until they were pedaling steadily enough for him to let go.
"Lemme try zummin." He steadied himself on the branch and held out both his hands for Zoot to take. "Hol' onna me."
Zoot stared at his outstretched arms for a moment, confused, then leaned in and gave him a hug.
Lips almost lost his balance. "Thazznah wha' I- oh-"
With Zoot's arms around his middle, Lips was being lifted into the air. Zoot's wings flapped hard and fast and uneven, but with a determination that kept the two of them hovering in the air for the briefest of moments.
Then Zoot made the mistake of looking down. With a yelp, he let go, and Lips fell unceremoniously to the ground. He landed face-down at the base of the tree, then rolled over onto his back.
Zoot glided down into the grass beside him. "My bad, man."
Lips raised his eyebrows up at the stars. "Why'm I awways geddin' injad whenebba ya try to fy?"
Zoot shrugged. But then he clambered on top of Lips and kissed him, and if that was his answer, Lips couldn't argue with that.
When Zoot pulled away, Lips reached up and cupped a hand around his cheek. "Thiz didden habba when we did Rockarobin. Buh I showished it woulda."
"Yeah?" Zoot asked, and in his voice, Lips could hear the real question underneath: that's how long you wanted me?
"Yeah, Blue," Lips murmured, and he couldn't keep the smile off his face as a new nickname occurred to him. "Bluebird."
Zoot kissed him again, harder this time. Lips' hands trailed down to where his wings met his back, and he felt the slightest gasp against his mouth. Zoot's wings rose up at the touch, and Lips couldn't take his eyes off of them over Zoot's shoulder.
Images flashed through his mind of how Zoot's wings looked with the different band members. He'd seen Zoot sitting in Janice's lap, sighing contentedly as she strummed her fingers over the feathers like the strings of her guitar. And he'd seen how easily Zoot's wings draped around Floyd's shoulders when they curled up together with a casual intimacy. And when it came to Teeth, well, the only things longer than Zoot's wingspan were Teeth's arms, and when they wrapped around Zoot and gave him a squeeze, he ended up lost in a flurry of his own feathers. With each of them, his wings were beautiful in a different way.
Lips had never thought about how Zoot's wings looked with him, until now. They fluttered with a steady rhythm, and if Lips couldn't feel the ground at his back, he'd think they were already flying. But that's how it always was with them, Lips connected to the world while Zoot was floating somewhere above it. Zoot's wings were spread so wide it was like they held up the whole sky, with all the stars behind them. Until Lips pulled him in for another kiss, and the sky came tumbling down to meet him.
Lips didn't even realize how hard he'd been gripping a handful of feathers until Zoot was fast asleep on his chest. Slowly, carefully, he untangled himself from Zoot's arms and wings and got up. They couldn't stay there on the ground forever.
"C'mon, Bluebird. Gah more innaboos to do tomorra." Lips scooped him up into his arms, carrying him bridal-style back to the van. He tried not to think too much about the implications of that.
Zoot didn't stir the whole way, his wings dangling limp in Lips' arms, and Lips kept glancing down to reassure himself that Zoot was still breathing. He slid the van door open as quietly as possible, but made sure Zoot's wings didn't get caught as he closed it, something that had already happened to him a few too many times.
But he forgot to close the sunroof. When the chilly air blew in overnight, though, not a single one of the band members felt it. They all woke with Zoot's wings covering them.
* * *
Before their first interview of the day, Lips found Zoot in the van, rummaging around under the seats. "Where's my..."
"Wuhya lookafo, Blue?"
Zoot didn't answer, but he seemed to finally find it. He folded his wings behind him, making them as small as possible, then wrapped his red striped shawl around his shoulders. Lips stood there and watched his wings disappear from sight.
"Just don't wanna be asked about 'em," Zoot explained.
Lips nodded. He understood. But at the same time, he'd gotten so used to seeing those wings - so attached to them, even - that everything suddenly felt a little emptier without them. "D'ya like habbinem, tho?"
"Yeah." Zoot didn't miss a beat when he answered. "They keep me warm when I'm sleeping. They feel good when I play the sax. I like wrapping you in them. I like wrapping the band in them." He pulled his shawl tighter around himself and shrugged. "Can't fly with 'em, though. They don't do nothin'."
"Sounna me like they cadoo a lot."
Zoot, having probably used up his quota of words for the day with those sentences alone, just shrugged again.
Lips felt a pang of guilt that he couldn't explain. Zoot didn't even realize how extraordinary his wings were, or that he could use them for anything he wanted, just like he'd always done with everything else - his music, and his heart, and everything that Lips loved about him. Lips had been so caught up in what everyone else was saying about them that he forgot what really mattered, and it was right in front of him.
He wanted to tell Zoot all of that. But Zoot was already walking into the studio for their interview, and all Lips could do was follow him in. Along the way, he went into his phone and deleted all his news apps. Only calls on this thing from now on, he told himself.
* * *
It was another interview with Zoot asleep on Lips' shoulder.
And another interview where Lips had to deny all the rumors about them. He was struggling to explain, but he was pretty sure the interviewer wasn't understanding anything he said, in any sense of the word. "Y'know, wejuj wanna keeb makin' our muza an' keeb ebbethin' else priva-"
From beside him, Lips heard the flapping of Zoot's wings, just like he had in the van when they'd first appeared. He could tell it was the sound of them threatening to break free. A few long, thin feathers had already started to fan out from underneath his shawl.
Trying to be discreet about it, Lips leaned over and whispered, "C'mon, Blue, geddon up-"
But Zoot's wings seemed to have a mind of their own. Lips reached over to adjust Zoot's shawl, but before he could, the entire wing sprung out, then the other.
The interviewer jumped back. "Are those wings?"
Zoot snapped awake and looked behind him. "Oh, yeah. These old things."
The next question was the one that Lips knew was coming: "As in... wings you can fly with?"
Zoot's face went blank. "Uh..." Lips could see his wings tense up, as frozen as the rest of him. Then he heard Dr. Teeth clear his throat.
"Pardon the interrupteratin', but if you ask me," Teeth cut in, "Zoot's already got his head in the clouds, if you know what I mean. He doesn't exactly need to get any higher."
Teeth knew how to deflect any situation, and for that, Lips was grateful. As Floyd let out a wheezy laugh next to him, Teeth went on, "But that's just our somniferous sax man, isn't it? And we love him."
Teeth leaned in and pressed a long, loving kiss to Zoot's lips, making sure to pull his shawl tight around him as he did, so his wings were covered back up. He patted Zoot's cheek, leaving him in a daze, then turned to Lips.
"And let's not forget this bodacious boy of the brass. We love him, too." He nuzzled his beard against Lips' goatee before planting one on him too, just as passionately.
The others followed, each of them kissing Zoot and then Lips. Janice was next; Lips could only catch a glimpse of the bright pink lipstick marks she left on Zoot's mouth and cheeks before she swooped in to do the same to him. And last, before Lips could catch his breath, was Floyd, the brusqueness of his kiss offset by the softness of his mustache.
Even Animal wanted to be part of the commotion, yelling "UNCLES!" before tackling both Lips and Zoot out of their seats in a mess of red fur, yellow hair, and golden feathers. Lips lay on the ground next to Zoot, giggling too hard to get back up.
Dr. Teeth's grin widened as he turned to the stunned reporter, who had watched all this unfold right in front of her. "That's how we do it in the Mayhem."
* * *
The day of the concert, Zoot was wearing his shawl again.
Backstage, Lips helped him tuck his wings into it. It wasn't the easiest task; they were fluttering nonstop. And Lips knew why. He recognized that same energy that always seemed to crackle in the air before a show. It was bursting inside of him, too, that urge to get out onto that stage and do what they were born to do.
"Juj leddidaw out thruya sazzofo, Blue," Lips told him.
The only thing they could think about now was putting on the best show for the crowd that they possibly could. Zoot nodded and picked up his sax, and that alone sent a great shudder through his wings that blew his shawl back like a gust of wind.
From the opening notes of "Can You Picture That," Zoot's wings quivered behind his back, though nobody but the band could see. Lips could only imagine how his wings would've looked in all their glory. By the time they got to Zoot's sax solo, his wings were positively pulsing to the beat, like there was a current of joy running through him that he couldn't contain. He had to brace his foot on a monitor just to keep his balance.
And that joy was contagious. Every last one of Lips' little worries evaporated right then and there, swept away by that sax, by those sounds that only Zoot could get out of it. Lips couldn't stay still while Zoot played - he never could - and he couldn't help shouting out "Play it, boy!" and whooping along.
He took his own advice to Zoot, and poured every ounce of energy he had into his trumpet. He played like his very heart was in his lungs. He played like he had wings of his own and the music was the only thing tethering him to earth.
The whole band was electrified with energy, right through to the final song. As Dr. Teeth started to croon, Lips took a seat on a monitor.
Then, out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of a giant golden wing on the screen behind them. He almost dropped his trumpet as he took in the full picture. It was them. Zoot, wings and all, carrying Lips bridal-style through the air. They were larger than life on the screen, with Zoot's wings gleaming just as bright in their stained glass form, and Lips couldn't think of anything that was more them than this. That's when he realized what else Zoot's wings were capable of.
It was Zoot carrying him away from the worries of the world. Zoot bringing him into his own little world instead so that Lips could fly with him. And Lips thought of what Zoot had said in the tree, about needing something to hold onto, and maybe that's what Lips was to him. Maybe this is what they were to each other. It wasn't an answer that would satisfy the journalists, but it was all Lips needed to know.
He kept looking between the Zoot on the screen and the Zoot playing the sax in front of him. How could he have ever worried that things would change between them? This was Zoot exactly as he'd always been. And in that sense, he'd always been able to fly, as far as Lips was concerned.
Once Lips could lower his trumpet, he gave Zoot a nudge. "Ya fyin' juj fine to me, Bluebird."
"Huh?" Zoot turned around and followed Lips' gaze, but by the time he did, they'd disappeared from the screen. "What'd I miss?"
Lips just shrugged, laughing, not knowing where he could begin to explain. "Us."
The smoke that had been billowing across the stage only grew as they came to the end of the show. Dr. Teeth was waxing poetic as he gave his elaborate thank-yous to everyone, and Zoot lowered his saxophone and turned to Lips, tugging uncomfortably at his collar.
"Is it hot in here or is it just me?" He started to slide his shawl off his shoulders.
"Blue- are yasho yawanna-"
But his shawl fell away, and his wings looked more beautiful than ever. Lips watched as they unfurled to their fullest extent, shaking themselves loose after being confined for so long. They glistened like gold even from behind the cloud of smoke. Just in case Zoot needed something to hold onto, Lips reached out his hand to him, and Zoot took it.
When the smoke cleared, he was still holding onto Lips' hand, and his wings were raised high.