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The first time Steven Meeks lays eyes on him, it’s 10PM in the middle of the coldest winter he’s ever known. Maybe it’s because it’s New York, and he’s just moved to town recently. Maybe it’s because he still doesn’t have any friends and he can’t seem to make any.
But when he lays eyes on him, he wants to get lost inside of him. He wants to cook him dinner and call in sick to work. He wants to run his fingers through his hair and ask him if Bob Dylan likes his covers more than his own voice. He’s sure he does. He’s beautiful, and the sounds coming out of the guitar are almost too much for him to bear.
“Your first time hearing him?” A guy asks, who has hair similar to his own.
“Uh, yes. Yeah. I just came to town recently.”
“I remember my first New York winter. Kind of brutal. Gerry’s great. He’s a good friend, and it’s always nice to see that people think he’s just as good as his friends all say that he is.”
“Does he play here a lot?”
“Yeah. He’s a regular. I think he’d be famous by now if he wanted it, but he doesn’t. Just likes to play.”
The red haired guy stopped talking, and so Steven went back to listening. It was some of the most beautiful sounds he’d ever heard in his life. Some of the songs he didn’t know, so he ifgured that they must have been originals. He was a bit jealous of him. Beauty, talent, and probably the greatest personality in the world to boot.
Eventually, his set was up, and then time rolled around to midnight. A record filled the room, and then everybody went back to their quiet chatting. Steven had had the name of the bar memorized for weeks, but had been too nervous to go inside. It was a place that another guy at the drafting center had told him about, in case he needed a change of pace.
Needless to say, he wasn’t going off to fight in that war. And he figured that none of the people around him were going either. Maybe he was wrong, but it felt like everybody was in the same boat as him. The red-head from earlier was clinging to a tall blonde with glasses, so he figured he was in good company. It felt a bit freeing. He should have done it earlier.
The record played out a similar type of music as Gerard had played for them, but it wasn’t nearly as nice. It was impossible to miss him as he entered the bar after coming out of the little back room that he assumed his guitar and things were in.
Steven felt his palms grow clammy as the taller man approached the bar, clearly looking out a drink. He made quick conversation with a few people. Friendly, with a big smile. He was perfect. Steven was convinced he’d just found the most perfect man in the world, and he didn’t even know that Steven existed.
“Hi,” He managed to muster as the lanky body slipped into a seat a few feet away. “You were great up there.”
“Hi,” A smile. A hand through his gorgeous brown locks. “Thanks.”
If that was the only conversation, Steven could die happy. But the gorgeous person opened his mouth again.
“Is this your first time here? I haven’t seen you before, and I come a lot.”
“Oh, uh… yes.”
“How’d you find the place?”
Steven feels his cheeks turn pink, and it’s probably the warmest he’s been since October.
“Uh…” He tries to think of a nice way to say it. He stops himself. “A guy at the drafting office. After I… well, I guess failed is the best term for it.”
He laughs. It’s another round of music for his ears.
“What about you?”
“My friend Charlie owns the joint.”
“Oh, cool. It’s very nice. I moved here recently, but I haven’t found any one to hang out with or anything like that. I don’t have a group. So I just kind of float around. I take myself out a lot.”
“That can be nice.” He stands, and crosses the space, sitting next to him.
“Movies. Dinner. It’s been nice. I’ve really been learning to love myself. Sorry if that sounds cheesy.”
“It doesn’t. I like that.”
“What about you? Do you sing like an angel all of the time? Or only here?”
He laughs again. “Very flattering. But no, not at all. I work for a radio station sometimes, I just have a music broadcast, so nothing special. But those are all my side ventures. What about you?”
“I work on Wall Street. Business stuff. I wanted to be an inventor or an engineer when I was a kid, but it never panned out. I’m still holding out for NASA.”
“I did too!” He grins again, and Steven feels drunk from it. “But I also work downtown. Boring office work. I’m waiting for my ship to come in.”
“Sometimes I feel like mine will never come.”
“I know how you feel.”
“My name’s Steven, by the way.”
“Nice to meet you. I’m Gerard.” He shook his hand, and although Steven knew it was only in his head, he swore that there was an electric shock between them when they touched.
The night progressed, and eventually, they were huddled together outside, passing a cigarette between them. It had been good chat, and even if he wasn’t ever going to get this guy to fall in love with him, he was happy to have a friend. His first in the city.
“Did you get out of the draft too?”
“I did.”
“Health problems?”
“I think they label mine as psyche. Or if they don’t, they think it.”
“Mine too.”
“Yeah,” He laughed again. He always seemed to be laughing, like he was just happy to be around him. “I figured. Since you’re here, and all.”
“Here?”
“Oh, please.” Gerard kicked his shoe with his own, a playful nudge above the snow beneath them. “You’re gay, aren’t you?”
“Well of course I am.”
He started laughing again, gave Steven a pat on the back. His fingers lingered a little longer, and it made Steven feel warm from the inside out.
“You live near here?”
“I’m in the Village.”
“You lucky bastard. Can I invite myself over for a drink?”
“Of course. I’m not sure if I have anything good.” Steven feels like he can’t even speak.
They head back in and pay their tabs, the record a new one. It’s a favorite of his, and he makes a note to put it on when they get in.
“Do you like Wanda Jackson?” Gerard asks, lighting another cigarette for himself as he shoves his other hand in the pocket of his coat.
“Of course.” It’s not far to his apartment from the bar. He can’t believe he hadn’t found it sooner. “That was her record back there. Let’s Have A Party was a favorite of mine in high school.”
“Mine was Funnel of Love.”
“I like that too.”
He wonders then, later, as those long hands are threading into his hair, about forever. Because of course he does! He’s a hopeless romantic with a flair for an imagination, and if it’s at all possible, the gorgeous man’s lips are even sweeter than the sounds that come out of them. So far, at least.
By the morning, Meeks is sure he’ll wake up with nothing in bed next to him. But he certainly took his time with him. Called him pretty names and complimented everything about him and kissed the freckle on his left shoulder, right where it meets his collarbone.
But when morning comes, Gerard is still wrapped around him, sleeping peacefully. There’s a note on the bedside table, and Meeks carefully reaches across the space to read it.
Good morning space boy :)
Gerard
He could get very, very used to this.