Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Are we doing the same as usual for your birthday, buddy?”

Adam takes a bite of his cereal before answering with his mouth full. “Why would I do anything differently?”

His father chuckles and sits down at the table with a groan. His lower back has been hurting a lot these past few weeks. Adam tells him everyday to go to the doctor, but his father refuses to. He has always been hard headed.

As his dad sorts through the mail, he replies, “Well, you’re turning 25. It’s worth celebrating.”

“You said that when I turned 18. And when I turned 20.” He takes another bite of cereal. “I’m starting to think none of them are really worth celebrating.”

His dad doesn’t reply. He tears open an envelope and sighs heavily through his nose. That’s always his reaction, without fail, every time he’s faced with the monthly bills. Adam wouldn’t say they’re struggling. They have food on the table, heat in the winter, and they can afford luxuries like a new pair of sneakers or a new pair of pants once in a while. Well, new as in worn by other people, but new to Adam.

Their financial situation is one of the reasons Adam doesn’t like to celebrate his birthday. It's a useless expense. He got a telescope on his 18 th birthday. A good one. A really good one. And then he watched his dad eat baloney sandwiches for a month. His father never cut back on Adam’s food; if he had to cut expenses, the man would sacrifice himself.

It never sat well in Adam’s stomach. The guilt would eat away at him, and every time he took the telescope out of its case, he would feel sick with it.

Overall, celebrating his birthday makes Adam feel like a burden.

“Plain vanilla cake, popcorn chicken, fries, a 2 liter of root beer and good ol’ Darko?” His dad asks, as if Adam's birthday routine would have changed in the past 14 years.

It’s been the same, every year since he turned 11. He remembers having been excited about that specific birthday. His classmates were really nice to him that year. For the first time in his life, he hadn’t been bullied. The teacher always looked out for him, the other students would help him when he struggled, and even the gym teacher was understanding of Adam’s hatred for the loud, squeaky and stinky gymnasium.

Adam had handmade nineteen invitations– with markers and construction paper. He had personalized them for each student. Drawings of basketballs for Lucy, bows for Anika, flames for Raul... He knew what each of them liked, and he had made sure to get it right.

Darko had been the only one to show up. One out of nineteen.

“I really like your drawing,” He said as he sat next to Adam on his couch. He showed him the invitation, which had Adam’s simplistic rendition of a robot. “I didn’t know you watched Voltron.”

Adam shrugged. “I don’t. But I know you like it. I heard you talk about it with Anthony.”

“Anthony’s a loser,” Darko replied without missing a beat, kicking his feet. “When I said I was going to your birthday party, he laughed at me.”

Adam frowned. “Why?”

“Said you were weird. I don’t think that’s true. I know you’re, like, different, but you’re not weird.”

“Oh.” On some level, Adam was aware that his classmate knew he was different. But it was still a shock to hear it.

“Wanna play ‘hide and seek’?” Darko changed the subject, getting up to his feet. “I’ll let you hide first!”

Adam smiled, already thinking of the perfect spot to hide: the narrow pantry in the corner of the kitchen that he was still small enough to fit into.

“Ok.”

Darko grinned and turned around, covering his eyes with his hands and starting the countdown from 30.

Adam nods to answer his father’s question. He’s still sorting through the mail, and he set a colorful pamphlet in the middle of the table: ‘Central Park Summerstage Concerts 1998’

“I will call Darko to confirm the time,” Adam finally replies, after finishing his breakfast.

-

“What do you mean you can’t come?”

Darko sighs on the other side of the line. “I’m really sorry, Adam; seriously, I am! Can’t we celebrate your birthday tomorrow?”

Adam feels his throat tighten with the discomfort of anger. For fourteen years, Darko would show up between 6 and 7 on June 5th, even though Adam would tell him to be there at 6. Then, they would eat the main meal and play board games. At 9, his father would bring out the cake with a single blue candle on top, and Adam would make the same wish every year before he blew it out. Then, his father would give him a gift that Adam would feel guilty about, and Darko would give him a 50-dollar bill in a pretty handmade card. It was always the same. Every. Year.

The change is making him nauseous.

“No! We always celebrate my birthday on the day of!”

“I know, I know. But would it kill you to have it be the next day?”

Adam stays silent. There’s something about Darko’s tone that makes his stomach twist, but he can’t pinpoint what.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t want to be mean.”

Adam’s not even sure Darko sounded mean. He was never anything but nice to him.
“S’okay.”

“It’s just,” Darko continues with another sigh, “ The Mint Robbers are playing in Central Park tonight, and I really want to go. I would ask if you wanted to come with me, but it’s going to be super crowded and super loud. You would hate it.”

Adam hums and toys with the hem of his shirt. It’s one of Darko’s old t-shirts that doesn’t fit his friend anymore. Adam had always liked it. It’s dark blue with thin white stripes and a white faded band logo in the middle. When Darko was about to throw it out, Adam snatched it out of his hands with a louder than necessary ‘Can I have it?’

“There are holes in it,” Darko had said through a laugh.

Adam didn’t care. The shirt looked cool. And he wanted to look cool.

“Maybe... Maybe if I put on my noise-canceling headphones?”

“That’s not going to get rid of the thousands of people packed tight like sardines.”

“Thousands?” Adam can’t imagine that there are that many people wanting to see people play instruments from a distance. He bets the sound doesn’t even carry to the people in the back.

Darko laughs. “Yeah! It’s The Mint Robbers , man!”

Adam shrugs even though Darko can’t see him. “I don’t know them.”

“Yes, you do! I play their songs all the time, are you joking?” Darko starts humming a tune. “ ‘My heart in your hands, Pulsating and warm, I vow ‘til the end, Forever, ever yours.’”

Adam raises both eyebrows when he recognizes it. “Oh! Is that the one with the weird video clip?” Darko had tried to show it to him, but Adam hadn’t liked it. It looked scary.

His friend laughs once more. “The one where they’re wearing the veils? Yeah! And you haven’t even seen the whole thing. The singer removes his veil in the end, and he’s covered in blood from head to toe.”

Adam shivers. “I don’t like blood.”

“See! You wouldn’t even like the concert then. I’ve seen pictures of their concerts in magazines, and they’re very theatrical. I bet the singer will show up soaked in blood. He’s done it before.”

“Fake blood, right?”

“Well, one would hope,” Darko chuckles. Adam grins. He’s always proud of himself when he gets his best friend to laugh so much.

“I’m sorry again, Adam,” Darko continues. “Truly. But we can celebrate your birthday tomorrow! With the chicken and the cake and the games, like we always do!”

Adam sighs and toys with the holes on the sleeve of his shirt. “Ok.”

-

“Where’s Darko?”

Adam looks up at the clock on the wall of the living room to see it’s already 7 at night.

“Not coming.”

His dad stands from the couch with a groan and puts his hands in his pockets. “Oh. I’m sorry, bud. Still want me to go ahead and order the food?”

Adam shakes his head and adjusts the strap of his bag hanging from his shoulder. “No. I’m going to the park. I’m not really hungry.”

His dad nods once and sits back down. “Alright. Tell me if you change your mind. I’ll be here.”

Adam nods in acknowledgment and puts his white sneakers on before heading out.

For the entire duration of the walk to the park, the baby pins he put to close the holes on the sleeve of his shirt keep rubbing against the strap of the bag he’s using to carry the telescope he still feels guilty about having received seven years ago.

Despite Central Park being huge, Adam crosses paths with hundreds of people that are excitedly rushing to the main stage. He has to pass through a crowd, and he curses himself for not having brought his noise canceling headphones. The people are loud, their excitement in direct contrast with Adam’s anguish. The air feels like it’s filled with static. As if millions of invisible flies fill the space between each atom, making everything buzz. Adam brings his palms to his ears, pressing hard to attempt to remove all forms of noise. Not only can he hear his own heart rattling against his ribs, but it’s like he can hear everyone else’s blood thrumming through their bodies.

He wonders if Darko is somewhere in that crowd, if he sees Adam, if he’s mentally reprimanding him for showing up at the park when he knew very well it would be crowded.

Adam releases a sigh of relief when he finally makes it to a secluded area. He can still hear someone talking through a microphone, but he can’t make out the words, only the booming of the speakers. Then, he hears the cheers of the crowd as a woman starts singing.

The only thing Adam knows about The Mint Robber s is that the singer is a man. He intuits that this must be the first act. He wonders how many artists are performing tonight and if the park will ever go back to tranquil quiet. The loud noises must be scaring the wildlife. Adam doubts he’ll see a single raccoon tonight.

But that’s not what he’s here for.

He sits on a rock and sets the bag down, pulling his telescope out. Luckily, the sky is clear tonight, and he can see the Big Dipper easily.

As he stares up into the sky, with the help of his telescope now, he hears rustling behind him. Probably squirrels fighting for scraps of food. Adam has seen his fair share of animal fights, often over a wet piece of hot dog bun.

Then, the smell of a cigarette fills the air, and Adam scrunches his nose. He’s not a stranger to bad smells, but tobacco is one he has never liked.

He tries to focus his attention back on the stars when he hears a twig snap, closer to him than it should be. He snaps his head in the direction of the noise and jumps in surprise.

A man is standing next to him, but Adam keeps his eyes downcast, not wanting him to start up a conversation. He’s had strange men with gross requests approach him before. When he told his father, he had bought Adam pepper spray and made him promise he’d use it if the need arose. On instinct, he puts his hand in his bag to feel for the can.

“How far can you see with that thing?” The man asks. His voice is low and gruff, and it makes Adam’s stomach flip in an unfamiliar way.

He keeps his gaze fixed on the man’s worn Converse shoes. “It’s not really about how far. But about how well. For instance, Venus is 225.79 million km away, but I can see it very well with my telescope because of the planet’s size. It-it’s one of the smallest planets of our solar system, but it’s still huge compared to other celestial objects. “

“I guess that was a stupid question on my part,” The man chuckles. “Just like we can see the moon with the naked eye even though it’s pretty far away. 384 400 km away, right?”

At that, Adam looks up at the man’s face. The first thing he notices is the scar on the bridge of his nose. The injury looks recent. Then, his eyes trail down to his lips, where the man wraps them around a cigarette.

“Yes, 384 400 km, 238 855 miles.” He confirms with a nod.

The stranger then points to Adam’s t-shirt. “ ’Deathhawk Moth and the Orchids’ . I love that band.”

Adam frowns and looks down at Darko’s old, worn shirt. He can faintly see the logo: a moth and a flower. “Oh. I-I don’t know them. It’s my friend’s shirt. He was going to throw it out, and I thought it looked cool.”

“Well,” Adam looks up at the man’s lips to see he’s smirking. “You have great taste regardless. I like what you did with the sleeves. Very cool.”

Adam’s fingers flutter and he grins. “You think so?”

“Definitely.”

Adam looks down at the man’s shirt to see there are baby pins on the collar as well as on the bottom hem. The t-shirt is black and baggy on the man’s tall frame. Printed on it, there’s a large white design. It looks like a mint plant, being cut with a pair of scissors. Under the drawing, it reads ‘The Mint Robbers’ in letters of different shapes and sizes, like they were cut out of a newspaper.

“You should probably go if you don’t want to miss the show,” Adam blurts out.

The man laughs. “Well, they can’t start without me.”

Adam frowns and tries to turn his attention back to his telescope. “I doubt they’ll take attendance before starting,” He half-jokes.

“Funny.” Adam looks up again to see the man’s still grinning. “I’m Nigel.”

He takes the time to really take in Nigel’s features. He seems to be around Adam’s age. Strawberry blonde hair falls over his forehead, framing his honey brown eyes. He looks undeniably handsome. The type of handsome that borders on intimidating. Now, Adam wishes he hadn’t looked at him because he feels more nervous to be talking to him than before. “I-I’m Adam.”

Nigel stares at him, unblinking, like he’s expecting Adam to continue the conversation. Except, Adam has never really been good at this. He never knows what he’s supposed to talk about once introductions have been done.

“Do you…” Nigel says with a light frown. “Do you not know who I am?”

Adam shakes his head. He racks his brain in search of where he could have seen this man before. He’s certain he would remember a face like that.

“Not at all?” Nigel asks. He seems really confused, and Adam’s not sure why.

“I’m normally good with faces,” Adam states, tilting his head in thought and tapping the tip of his fingers on his thighs. “I’m sorry if we have met and I don’t recognize you.”

Nigel shifts his weight from one foot to the other and tosses his finished cigarette onto the ground. As he crushes it with the heel of his foot he replies: “No, we haven’t met. My mistake.”

“Oh, ok.”

Nigel turns to leave but flips back around to face Adam again. “Could I get your phone number?”

Adam looks down at his own hands and rubs the tip of his fingers with his thumb. “Why?”

“You seem cool. I’d like to hang out sometime, if you would like that too…”

Cool . Adam seems cool . He grins and nods, rocking back and forth barely noticeably. Maybe Darko ditched him for his birthday, but Nigel could spend this time with him. “Yes. W-we could hang out right now, if you want to sit here with me! I could tell you about M-Theory. It was first talked about by Edward Witten just three years ago-”

“I can’t. Sorry.”

Adam swallows around the tightness in his throat and follows Nigel’s gaze to see he’s staring at the other side of the park, where the concerts are taking place. Adam deflates and stops rocking, squeezing his own fingers until they hurt. “Ok.”

“I wish I could stay, I just… Uh, I’ve got a concert…”

Adam turns the knobs on his telescope to adjust it to a better height. “Ok.”

“I still want your number, though.”

When Adam nods, Nigel pulls out a sharpie and writes Adam’s home phone number on the inside of his wrist as the boy recites it.

“I’ll call you!” Is the last thing Nigel tells him before practically sprinting out of sight.

-

Adam returns home later that night to the smell of fried chicken and fries. His stomach grumbles as he takes off his shoes, placing them neatly in the cubbies by the door.

“I know you said not to order it,” his dad says from where he’s lying on the couch, “but I thought you’d be hungry.”

Adam nods and serves himself a plate after washing his hands. He hesitates before grabbing a second plate from the cupboard. “Are you going to eat with me?”

His dad smiles. “I’d love to, bud.”

While they eat, Adam talks to him about the advances in observational cosmology and about what is currently understood about dark matter, which is not much to say the least. His father listens to him attentively and brings their empty plates to the sink before coming back with the cake.

He sets the single blue candle in the middle of it and lights it with a match.

“Happy birthday, son. Make a wish!”

Adam closes his eyes and wishes for the same thing he has been wishing for fourteen years.

‘I want to stop feeling so alone.’

He blows it out and watches the smoke rise to the ceiling.

-

Adam jumps out of his skin when he hears the phone ring in the living room. He looks at the digital clock on his bedside table to see it’s ten past midnight. The phone keeps ringing as he puts on his slippers and drags his feet to the living room. He gets there at the last ring.

“Hello?” His voice is lower than usual, still thick with sleep.

“Hello, could I speak to Adam?”

“I’m Adam.” He rubs his face with his free hand and yawns.

“Oh, hi! This is Nigel. Did I wake you?”

Adam’s heart stops. In his sleep-addled brain, having met this man earlier feels like part of a dream.

“Yes.” Is all he’s able to reply, his heart now beating too fast. He doesn’t know what it is about Nigel specifically that makes him feel this way.

“Fuck, I’m sorry.” Adam can hear loud voices muffled from Nigel’s end of the line. “I just… I don’t know,” He chuckles, but it sounds awkward. “I wanted to talk to you.”

“What do you want to talk about?” Adam asks excitedly, now fully awake.

“You were going to tell me about M-Theory, if I recall. You seemed really passionate about it and- guys! Shut the fuck up, I’m on the phone!” He sighs, “Sorry about that.”

Adam bites his lip. Besides his father and Darko, no one ever wants to listen to him talk about his special interest. He’s pretty sure even Darko is getting a little tired of hearing him say the same things over and over again. He’s just too nice to say it, Adam thinks. “We can talk another day if you’re busy; I wouldn’t want to bother you.”

“I’m the one who called, Adam. I’m interested in what you have to say. I would have sat with you all night on that rock if I could have…”

Adam feels his face heat up. He plays with the string of his pajama pants and sways side to side. “Ok. Well, to explain M-Theory we have to start with Quantum gravity and String theory. To put it simply-

“ Please deposit 25 cents for three more minutes ”

Adam blinks. “Are you on a payphone?”

He hears the recognizable sound of coins being inserted into the phone booth. “Yeah, I’m still out. You were saying?”

“I- Nigel,” Adam chuckles. “What I’m about to explain takes more than three minutes. It’s a complex theory!”

“I have a pocket full of change and all the time in the world.”

When Adam returns to his bedroom after the call, he feels like he’s floating. He catches his reflection in the mirror and sees he has a grin plastered on his face. The time on his digital clock displays 1:15.

As he lays in bed and closes his eyes, he recalls the end of their conversation, right before the call dropped.

“Would you like to meet tomorrow?”

“Yes!” Adam replied immediately.

“What would you like to do?”

Adam hummed in thought. It’s been a while since he’s been to his favorite coffee shop. “We could maybe get breakfast at Jackie’s Coffee, on Amsterdam Avenue. Her sugar cookies are very good!”

“I-I’d rather not go somewhere too crowded.”

“Oh! It’s not crowded at all. That’s why I like to go there.”

“I mean, uh- Please deposit 25 cents for three more minutes - fuck. Listen Adam, I ran out of change. How about I stop by that coffee shop tomorrow morning to get us food before I go to yours. How does that sound?”

“Oh, ok. Sounds good.”

Adam gave him his address just in time before the call dropped. He hopes Nigel won’t be bothered by the fact Adam lives with his father. Hopefully, he won’t think it’s uncool .

-

“You done?” Éli asks as she ties her long black braids into a ponytail. She is sitting on the curb, nursing a bottle of beer, while Carter flirts with a group of girls who are very clearly fans.

“Only because I ran out of money,” Nigel grumbles, staring longingly at the phone. He wishes he was still talking to Adam.

When he had wandered away from his bandmates before their show, he hadn’t expected to stumble onto a literal angel. The nerves and the expectation to be nothing less than perfect had gotten the best of him, and he needed to breathe, away from the spotlights and the screaming fans.

“That’s the one!” Éli exclaimed, letting her drumsticks drop next to her.

“Mm.” Nigel took a sip of water and shook his head.

Carter sighed heavily. “Oh, come on, Ni.” He put his guitar down on the stand. “We’ve been at it for hours, give us a break- give yourself a break.”

Nigel took a deep breath in, trying to bring back air into his aching lungs. “I can’t hit the fucking note. I need it to be good.”

“It is good!” Éli interjected.

“Then I need it to be perfect!” Nigel countered, raising his voice more than he had wanted to.

The drummer shook her head. “Alright, man. Let’s go again.”

Carter groaned and grabbed his guitar. Nigel took another deep breath in before stepping in front of the microphone. “Ok. From the top.”

He’s grateful now that the pressure had gotten to him. Otherwise, he would have never met Adam. What first caught Nigel’s attention, as he paced around the park, was the telescope. As he got closer and got a good look at the man’s side profile, his heart stopped in his chest. He had dark chocolate curls falling over porcelain skin. He was the most beautiful person Nigel had ever laid eyes on.

But it’s when the man started talking that Nigel became truly enthralled. He spoke with such passion, so much so that it made Nigel’s heart swell, and his mouth parted into a grin immediately. He has always had a soft spot for passionate people, the type of person who feels their interest strongly, deeply, in their soul and all over their body.

Adam is that type of person.

Éli rises to her feet and puts her empty beer bottle in the trash can. “Alright, let’s get out of here before Carter tries to bring a girl to the hotel. Or all five of them.”

Nigel snorts and walks over to Carter, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt and pulling him away. Carter yelps and Éli grabs him by both arms, dragging him even further from the fans.

 “Nigel!” A girl squeals in excitement. “Could I please have a hug?”

Nigel turns to her and mumbles, ‘Sure’ with a small smile, before taking her into his arms. She smells too strong, like the perfume aisle of a department store. He pats her back and extirpates himself from the embrace.

He loved being famous when they first rose to fame two years ago. It came with the much coveted recognition; it was rewarding to have people appreciate their work. To have radios play their music, to have their CDs sold in stores, to have concert halls sell out, it was all very gratifying. He had even liked the attention from the fans, at first. That was before their enthusiasm turned to hysterics.

Now, he and his band members have to be careful. They had been stalked one too many times. Nigel especially.

At first, it was flattering to be talked about like he was this perfect heartthrob. Now, it just felt strange and objectifying.

When he finally makes it back to his hotel room, Nigel removes his t-shirt that got imbued by the fan’s perfume and tosses it to the ground.

He misses feeling normal, the way he did before fame. Now, he can’t even go to the corner store without paparazzi or fans swarming him. Adam not recognizing him, not even remotely, is extremely surprising and unusual. That’s rare nowadays.

He makes him feel normal. Adam sees him as a regular guy, and Nigel intends to keep it that way.

Chapter Text

***

In April, I had the chance to interview the acclaimed alternative rock band ‘The Mint Robbers’ as they were getting ready for their concert in LA. Between the rehearsals and the sound checks, I knew I didn't have much time to enter their busy schedule. I had to ask the questions that yielded the most coveted answers, the ones the fans are dying to know. As they took a fifteen-minute break from their hectic life, I sat on the stage with the three members, and I jumped right in.

Why the name Mint Robbers?

Nigel: I was waiting for someone to ask us about it. [Laughs] There's a Romanian expression 'Freci menta', 'you are rubbing the mint'. Meaning that you're wasting time or you're being lazy. When we started this band, my mom said it was a pure waste of time. She inadvertently gave me the inspiration for our band name.

Carter: But mint rubbers didn't sound that good, so we went with robbers.

Éli: It became a play on words, too. Like a 'mint': the facilities that manufacture coins.

Talking about robbers, what would a person have to do to steal your heart?

Nigel: Please, Carter, abstain from answering this.

[Éli laughs] 

Nigel: Be passionate about what you do. Whether it's your hobby or your job. That spark gives you strength, makes you interesting, and most importantly, keeps you alive.

Carter: Me? I like redheads and blondes. 

Nigel: Alright... See? That's why I asked him to keep his mouth shut.

Éli: When it comes to what I like, well, just be yourself! There's nothing better than authenticity. 

You've toured across America, and you're starting to be in demand in Europe. When can we expect a World Tour?

Carter: That's in the works! We're thinking ‘99, or maybe 2000, if the world doesn’t end.

Nigel: Yeah, next millennia sounds good. 

What's your favorite song off your album ‘Fragile Foundation’? 

Carter: What's yours? [He winks]

Éli: Carter's dodging the question because his favorites are the ones with his guitar solos, and he doesn’t want to sound full of himself. Not more than he already does.

Carter: Hey!

Nigel: My favorite's ‘ Forever, ever yours’ .

[Éli nods in agreement]

Int: Why that one in particular?

Nigel: I hope to experience a love like that someday. I didn't write that song about someone who exists. Well, if they do exist, I haven't met them yet. I don't know; I just really want the type of love where we're mutually obsessed with one another. Where I’m theirs and they’re mine and it's like that until the very end. Why want anything else? 

Carter: [whistles a cuckoo tune] Healthy!

Nigel: It is. With the right person it would be. 

***

Darko lifts his eyes from his magazine just in time to notice he almost missed his bus stop. He presses the yellow strip along the wall of the bus to alert the bus driver and shoves the already rumpled magazine into his bag.

He's late for his shift again. What’s being a little more late? He'll be damned if he skips his coffee.

With a yawn, Darko gets off the bus and walks the short distance to his and Adam's favorite coffee shop. They discovered this hidden gem about four years ago, when the smell of freshly baked cookies drew them in, one foggy autumn morning. The shop is small and inconspicuous. It doesn't look like much, nestled between a nail salon and a bodega. But the coffee and the baked goods are nothing short of incredible.

Darko rubs at his eye with the palm of a hand as he pushes the door open with the other. The bell dings its familiar melody, and he hears Jackie's footsteps coming to the front.

"Darko! I'll be with you in a minute, baby." Her New Jersey accent is strong, and Darko is immediately comforted by it.

Jackie is in her sixties, but she's still rocking the big hoop earrings and the bright pink lipstick. Her long, wavy salt and pepper hair is tied up in a ponytail, with a teal paisley bandana pushing her fringe back. She's the epitome of ‘forever young’. He aspires to be as youthful when he reaches that age.

With a grin, Darko responds, "Take your time, beautiful."

"Oh, stop it!" She reprimands him with a bright smile on her face. 

‘I could be your mother. I could even be your grandmother!’ She often repeats. But Darko knows she appreciates it when he’s playful and cheeky.

He chuckles and leans against the counter, waiting for her to finish what she’s currently occupied with.

And that's when Darko notices the other customer, waiting for his order at the other end of the counter.

Nigel. Fucking. Banyai. 

“No fucking way,” Darko mumbles under his breath. He closes and opens his eyes repeatedly, as if he could blink the image of Nigel away. As if he'd vanish from the coffee shop—just a hallucination conjured by his sleep deprived mind.

But there he still is. Tall, handsome, and looking rad as hell in his black t-shirt, black ripped jeans, and worn Converse. Just like in the magazines.

"You're Nigel," He blurts out, straightening his posture. Way to state the obvious, Darko.

Nigel looks at him briefly before looking back at Jackie, who is preparing his order.

"Yeah."

"I'm a big fan. Well, not ‘big’ as in ‘crazy-obsessed’. Just- I like your music a lot! I saw you perform yesterday in Central Park. The alternate version of ‘ Sunday Misery’ was amazing."

Nigel gives him a tight-lipped smile but still averts his gaze. "Thanks, man."

Darko clears his throat and taps the tips of the fingers of his left hand together. A nervous habit he got from Adam. When you spend so much time with someone, they rub off on you a little.

Adam, who he has to make amends with. He totally blew it last night. It wasn’t the first time that Darko did something that upset Adam, but it’s the first time in a very, very long while. Of course, as a child, when he was still learning how his friend’s brain works, there had been a lot of mishaps. But over the years, Darko came to know Adam like the back of his hand. And he knows very well that he shouldn’t have broken a tradition.

But it was to see The Mint Robbers, whose singer and bassist is standing right in front of him right now!

"Here you go, hon," Jackie says with her signature contagious smile, handing Nigel a cup carrier and a big brown bag.

Nigel thanks her and doesn't spare Darko another glance as he escapes the coffee shop hastily.

"He's famous." Darko tells Jackie, still shocked by the encounter.

"Was hopin’ he was!" She says pointing to her tip jar. "Or just rich! I’d have felt terrible if not."

Darko peers into her teal glass jar to see a folded hundred-dollar bill.

-

When Nigel finally makes it to Adam's apartment, he's covered in a fine layer of sweat. The summer heat decided to strike and settle in the heart of New York with a bang. Not to mention he was cruising down the street on foot at the speed of light, hoping no one would recognize him. 

Unfortunately, two teenagers pointed and one yelled out, "I LOVE YOU, NIGEL!" But other than that, he made it without too much of a kerfuffle.

With a little difficulty, he balances the cup carrier on the arm holding the bag, and he opens the main door to the apartment building with the other. After going up two flights of stairs -now even more out of breath- he knocks on Adam's door. Hopefully, he wrote the right address down. The call got cut so short the night before that Nigel now doubts if he heard correctly.

The lack of certainty increases when an older man opens the door. 

"Yes?"

He has an air of resemblance to Adam, if Nigel squints. It’s the nose shape.

"Uh, does Adam live here?"

The man looks at him with a frown, eyeing him like he might be some door-to-door salesman. "Who’s asking?”

"Nigel. I'm a friend of Adam's.” He smiles to dissipate the tension if nothing else. “Well, I’m trying to be.”

The man stares for a moment, while the silence lingers between them both. He turns his head away from the door to speak into the apartment

"Adam! A ‘Nigel’ is here to see you?"

Nigel hears rapid footsteps and can’t help but grin at the excited pace.

“Hi!”

His heart almost leaps out of his body when Adam appears in his field of view.

Nigel’s eyes travel across the man’s face. He’s even more gorgeous than he remembered, if that is even possible. In the morning light, Nigel can see the ring of green around his pupils, bleeding into the blue of his irises. Just as if Monet’s lily pads were an eye color.

“Hello.” He shows Adam the bag in his hand. “I got those sugar cookies you told me about.”

Adam smiles and keeps his eyes fixed on Nigel’s hands. “Come in, come in.”

Nigel follows him inside and into a small kitchen. As he takes in the space, he freezes, struck with the similarity it bears to his mother’s old apartment. The one he grew up in, in Montréal. Their small, round wooden table is by a little window, where a potted plant lives on the sill. Practically identical to his childhood kitchen area. Except the plant pot was yellow, and this one’s blue.

His mother no longer lives in that old apartment, it was falling apart, and Nigel bought her a house with the money he garnered from his rise to fame. She deserves only the best, and Nigel intends to give her that for as long as he can.

“You can sit.” Adam’s voice brings him back to the present. He sets the bag and the drinks on the table and sits facing him.

The older man –who Nigel can only assume is Adam’s father- is sitting on the couch with a view of the kitchen. Nigel feels intimidated by his stare. Does he recognize him? Is he trying to figure out where he has seen his face before? Nigel averts his eyes and focuses back on Adam.

“I don’t know what you like to drink, so I went with a normal latte. Is that ok?”

Adam taps his fingers on the table. “I don’t... I don’t like coffee.” He seems nervous. Nigel has the immediate urge to reassure him.

“That’s perfectly fine! I know you like the cookies at least,” He chuckles and opens the bag, taking out the sugar cookies as well as the muffins he bought.

“I could pay you back for the coffee-”

Nigel cuts him off. “Nonsense. It’s my treat.”

Adam still seems hesitant.

“Truly,” Nigel affirms. He takes a bite out of his carrot muffin as Adam shoves half of a sugar cookie into his mouth. God, he’s adorable.

“So,” Nigel says after swallowing his bite. “You were telling me about the Kaluza–Klein theory towards the end of the call, if my memory serves me.”

The other man's eyes light up, sparkling like stars in the night. Fitting.

“Yes! Though that theory was never entirely successful because it failed to prove the existence of a particle called ‘radion’, also referred to as ‘graviscalar’. It’s talked about a lot in theoretical physics, but it’s a hypothetical particle-”

Nigel’s heart beats rapidly in his chest as Adam animatedly explains the fifth dimension at lengths. He has never seen someone come to life so intensely as this man has. The sun shining in from the small window outlines his body in a bright, white light, making him look even more angelic than he usually does.

Nigel knows he probably has a lovesick smile on his face, but he doesn’t feel the need to hide it. He puts his elbow on the table and leans his chin in the palm of his hand, eyes fixed on Adam’s beautiful features.

He hasn’t felt this happy in a long time.

-

“-and here’s the best thing.” Adam excitedly showed Nigel each and every space themed item in his room. From his model of Apollo 13 to a small astronaut plushie. All he has left to show him is his suit.

He opens the closet door and moves to the side to give Nigel the best view of his most prized possession.

“Woah! That’s amazing, Adam! Do you wear it?” Nigel grins, and he looks genuinely impressed, as far as Adam can tell.

“Of course!” Adam states like it’s obvious. “I wear it around the house sometimes. Especially if I’ve had a difficult day. It’s comforting.”

“That’s really-” He falls silent as his eyes wander around the closet.

Adam frowns. “That’s really what?”

“Uh…” Nigel’s face is completely red, and Adam follows his gaze to see what got that reaction out of him.

Oh .

Adam opens his mouth to speak, but he doesn’t know what he’s supposed to say. He knows most people would be embarrassed if another person saw their pornography collection. Adam isn’t. Should he still apologize? Or justify himself?

He plays with the pads of his fingers as he addresses it. “I like watching those VHSs. Do you own some?”

Nigel stumbles over his words. “I- I mean- I have seen- I watched- Sometimes. But I don’t own any. Cart- my friend does,” He chuckles. “Huh.” He swallows and Adam’s eyes follow the movement of his throat bobbing.

Adam points to the one titled ‘ Beau and the Beast’ . “This one’s my favorite.” He has watched it a lot. So much so, he knows the dialogue by heart. Most people don’t watch it for the conversation, and neither does Adam most of the time, but he appreciates it. Not to mention the visuals are beautiful. A well-constructed set and a camera of superior quality are always a plus. It adds to the experience, it makes it feel less… vapid. It adds depth, like perhaps these people could really love each other. Like maybe Adam could pretend they do.

“Why that one?” Nigel asks hushedly, like maybe he’s worried someone will hear.

“It’s the only gay one I own. And it’s also the most romantic one. Beau doesn’t care that the Beast is different. And he accepts him for everything that makes him him .”

Nigel nods and wipes his palms on his pants. Adam tracks the motion.

“Do you watch it a lot?” Nigel asks, stepping forward into his space and backing him against a wall. Adam doesn’t mind the proximity. He looks up at the other man’s face to see his mouth parted, his eyes lidded.

“Yes.” Adam nods for emphasis. “I do…”

“You’re a fan of romance, then, I reckon,” He whispers, his breath ghosting against his skin.

Adam nods once more. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath in, finally registering Nigel’s scent with how close he’s standing. Vanilla, tobacco and sweat. But somehow, it all smells good when combined. When he opens his eyes, the man is leaning over him, his gaze fixed on Adam’s lips. His heart stutters in his chest, and he feels heat pool at the bottom of his abdomen. Arousal interweaved with an overwhelming emotion he can’t quite put his finger on.

As Adam leans in, a knock at his bedroom door startles them both. Nigel steps away several feet, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“Darko’s there, buddy,” His father calls from behind the door.

-

Nigel has heard that name before. He shuts his eyes tight, willing his now fuzzy brain to recall where he heard it.

Shit .

The fan from the coffee shop.

He clears his throat and adjusts the front of his pants. He feels a little light-headed. When he had planned out his day, he hadn’t expected to be -for the lack of a better term- fucking turned on.

Adam has a whole porn VHS collection. That’s throwing him for a loop. But the fact he can’t predict this passionate boy is exciting.

He shakes his head, as if the motion would physically rearrange his priorities. He needs to get out of there before this Darko guy sees him. For once since reaching stardom, Nigel finally feels normal. He’s not about to give this feeling away.

He looks out Adam’s bedroom window and spots the fire escape.

“I really have to go, Adam.”

Adam looks up at him, eyes filled with so much confusion that Nigel’s guts twist with guilt.

“Oh.”

“Can I call you later tonight? I want to hear you talk about quantum field theory.” He smirks, “Or about the plot of ‘ Beau and the Beast ’.”

Adam bites his bottom lip and nods. “Ok.” He shoots him a sweet smile, and Nigel swears his knees buckle.

“Hey-oh, Adam!” None other than Darko calls out through the door. Nigel recognizes his voice.

Without missing a beat, he lunges for the window and lifts it, jumping out onto the staircase.

“Call you tonight, Adam,” He stage whispers, before rushing down the stairs.

-

Darko frowns as he enters Adam’s room. He could have sworn he heard voices.

“Was someone here?”

Adam closes his closet door and turns the light for it off. “A friend.”

Darko raises an eyebrow. Adam doesn’t have any other friend but him. Unless you count Jimmy, their former high school classmate they hang out with once in a blue moon.

“His name’s Nigel,” Adam elaborates with a giggle that’s nothing short of what Darko would describe as giddy .

Darko tilts his head. Is Adam fucking with him to get back at him for last night’s debacle? “Yeah, sure.”

“Why’d you say it like that?”

“Like what.”

“Like you don’t believe me. I can understand some of your tones, you know?”

“It’s just-” Darko sighs through his nose. “Nigel, really? Like Nigel from ‘The Mint Robbers?”

Adam frowns and sits on his bed. “I didn’t even know there was a Nigel in that band.”

Darko rolls his eyes and pulls out his magazine from his bag, flipping to the page with the interview he was reading earlier. There’s a photo of the band members, all sitting on the stage. Éli Lafrenière has her drumsticks in her hands, making an ‘X’ with them over her chest with a wide smile on her face. Carter Bedard is making a Rock and Roll sign with his left hand, sticking his tongue out. And in the middle: Nigel Banyai is sitting back with a small smirk across his lips.

Darko sits on the bed and sets the magazine on Adam’s lap, pointing to the guy in the middle. “Him. His name’s Nigel.” He shoves his hand back in his red backpack and fishes out the birthday card he made for his friend. “Happy Birthday-”

-

Adam’s surroundings disappear. Darko’s voice fades into the distance, and his own gaze narrows in on the band’s picture. There, on a stage, sits none other than his Nigel. He stares, unblinking, at the image of the man who was in this very room not more than five minutes ago.

Was Nigel keeping this very important part of his life from him? Why didn’t he tell him who he was? He could have, last night in the park. It would have been so easy to say, ‘I’m in this famous band that is about to play the Summerstage concert.’ Why hadn’t he said so? Why couldn’t he tell Adam? It eerily reminds him of a terrible experience from high school, and he feels sick with shame.

“So, you lied?”

“Kind of… Maybe a little.” Beth, who he had thought was his friend, looked away. “It’s not that I didn’t want to tell you! Ms. Rockwell made me promise not to say anything.”

Adam’s hands shook with anger, and he wrung them together to try to contain his need to hit his own head. “So, it wasn’t real?”

“At first! But it is now!”

He shook his head. “No.” He squeezed his hands with more force, hurting himself in the process. “You’re not my friend. You’re not my friend.” He kept repeating it as he walked as far away from her as he could. He would have exploded if he had stayed where she could see him.

Ms. Rockwell had asked Beth Buchwald to befriend him because, according to the teacher, Adam seemed lonely. And the honest truth is, he was. Darko had a different schedule that year since he had joined the sports program. His friend’s classes started earlier and ended earlier, so his lunch didn’t line up with his. Adam would eat alone, in the corner of the cafeteria, until one day Beth had sat with him. He had thought she had genuinely wanted to be his friend, but as it turned out, it was all premeditated, orchestrated by his nosey teacher.

“Adam?”

He blinks, eyes still fixed on Nigel’s picture. His strawberry blonde hair looks almost golden under the spotlights. He opens his mouth to confirm to Darko that this is indeed the guy he had been spending the day with, but he refrains. He feels ashamed. Or something similar to shame. Maybe it’s something closer to inadequacy. Why hadn’t Nigel trusted him with the truth? Did he think Adam would become someone else if he knew of his fame? Adam doesn’t care about his fame or his money. None of it matters. What matters is honesty.

He wishes Nigel could have trusted him.

Chapter Text

“It’s an ascending counter melody! Not a descending one!”

“That’s what I’ve been doing!” Carter groans.

Éli sighs and starts humming the melody. She abruptly stops, snapping her head to look at Nigel, who was content just watching his bandmates argue from his hiding place in the corner of the auditorium.

“Where were you?!” She chastises, her hands in the air in exasperation.

Nigel wipes a hand over his mouth, trying to hide his grin. His mind is still replaying the moment in Adam’s room, where their faces were an inch apart. So close, yet so far. The boy smelled like cucumber-melon shampoo, and his skin looked soft to the touch. Nigel missed his presence the second he jumped out of his window.

“Sorry, guys. Just lost track of time,” He replies, unable to remove the giddiness from his tone.

Carter plucks at the strings of his guitar. “We were about to put your face on milk cartons.”

Nigel huffs, still smiling, and rolls his eyes. “I wasn’t gone that long.”

Éli raises both eyebrows and crosses her arms over her chest, pointing to the digital clock in the corner of the room with her head.

It’s already 3 in the afternoon. He blinks in surprise. Nigel had spent seven hours with Adam.

“Paul’s freaking out,” Carter mentions as he plays a pentatonic melody. “I told him to go take a long walk around the block and that if you weren’t back when he was, then he could alert authorities of your disappearance.” He says the end of his sentence in a chuckle.

Nigel rolls his eyes again. Paul, their tour manager, has always been iffy about where they go, at what time, and with whom. He tried to buy them all a cellphone, but Nigel kept ‘accidentally losing it’. He doesn’t want his manager to be able to reach him at all times. It’s a breach of privacy in Nigel’s eyes.

“We have four hours before show time,” Éli says, her tone more professional than it is friendly. “Full rehearsal starts now.”

-

The bass still resonates throughout Nigel’s body as they finish practicing their set for the second time.

He can feel Éli’s stare bore into his soul.

“What?” He snaps, a frown etched on his face.

“You’re distracted. Focus. Do you want to deliver a good show or not? Because, right now, what you’re giving us is mediocre.”

Nigel’s frown deepens. “What’s your problem?!” He looks at Carter. “You hearin’ this?”

Carter shrugs. “It does seem like you’re not giving it your all.”

Nigel scoffs. “Am I not allowed to have days where I’m not giving my hundred percent?”

“No, you’re not,” Éli argues. She stares him down, and Nigel holds her gaze, not letting himself be intimidated. “If we’re not allowed to be anything but perfect, neither are you!”

“What are you talking about-”

“She’s right and you know it,” Carter interrupts. “You’re always on our fucking case when things are not up to your standard! Do you know how much shit you would have given me if I was three hours late to rehearsal?!”

Nigel glares at the guitarist. “Yeah, because you’re unreliable-”

“Oh, I’m unreliable?!” Carter puts his guitar down and steps up to him. Before he can put a hand on Nigel, Éli puts herself between them and pushes both boys back.

“Enough,” She sighs. She turns to Nigel, her gaze softening. “Look, I didn’t mean to start anything. All I’m saying is, you don’t see my relationship with Maggie impact the band. I keep my private and professional lives separate, within their own boundaries.” She gives him a tight-lipped smile. “Is your payphone-person more important than what we’ve built as a band?”

Nigel can’t fucking believe what he’s hearing. “What if I made you choose between Maggie and the band? What would you fucking choose?”

“It’s not the same!” She replies without missing a beat, a look of outrage on her face. “I’ve been with her for four years; you’ve known your little crush for 24 hours. Are you serious?”

“Dead fucking serious,” He replies, his tone nothing short of venomous.

“Guys.” It’s Carter’s time to mediate. “Let’s just do what we do best, yeah? Drink, forget, and put on a show for the crowd -who if I can remind y’all- are going to be here in an hour.” He raises an eyebrow and sets his gaze on Nigel. “All we ask of you is to not be a hypocrite. We’re not asking for much.”

Even though he was the one who called for a truce, Carter still sounds incredibly bitter to Nigel’s ears. Sometimes, Nigel believes this fucking band was the worst thing to happen to their friendship.

In secondary school, Nigel didn’t have many friends for the first three years of it.  Then, in secondary 4, he befriended Éli. She would eat her lunch alone, sitting under a staircase near the teacher’s lounge. Nigel sat next to her one day with sarmale in a microwaveable container in hand.

“Want some?” He showed her the contents, and she eyed it curiously.

“What is it?”

“Pork and rice wrapped in cabbage leaves. My mom made it.”

She looked at him suspiciously. After a beat, she said: “Why are you talking to me?”

Nigel shrugged. “You always eat alone. I thought maybe you’d like some company. If not, I can go.” He moved to get up, but she let out a small ‘wait’, closing her book and setting it aside.

“Let me have one at least, before you go.”

He laughed. “Using me for my sarmale?”

For the first time, he heard her laugh. She was usually so quiet, not talking to a soul in their class. “If it’s good, I might.”

Carter had become their friend when Nigel had been paired with him for an English project. Carter’s accent was strong when he was sixteen, his father being French-Canadian. He would get made fun of for it in their English-speaking school. Nigel would threaten every bully with physical violence. The bullying finally stopped when he tossed one of them headfirst into a garbage bin.

Deciding to form a band started mostly as a joke, when they had improvised a melody and lyrics to pass the time in history class. Éli got her drum set from her older cousin who hadn’t touched it in a decade. Carter begged his father for an electric guitar for Christmas. And Nigel worked his ass off at the gas station to save enough money to buy a bass and a microphone set.

They sounded absolutely terrible at first. Just another trashy garage band. But, God, did they have fun. They would pull all-nighters to write ridiculous lyrics and even stupider song titles. Once in a while, they’d come up with a line beautiful enough to rival long-dead poets.

The band was all just a silly idea, one that most teenagers have, along with grandiose dreams of fame that would never happen. Except that for them, it did.

And Nigel regretted it more times than not.

-

“Will you tell me what’s going through your mind?”

Adam sighs and looks up at the clouds. They’re painted in a pink and orange glow, the sun setting on the horizon.

“I don’t know.”

Taking a walk in the park was Darko’s idea. He probably could tell Adam wasn’t feeling well. It upsets him, more than he already was, that Darko can read him like an open book. Adam wishes he could tell what other people are thinking, too.

“Come on.” Darko’s voice is barely above a whisper. “I’m sure, whatever it is, I can make it better.”

“How can you be sure of that?” Adam asks, bitterness seeping into his tone.

His friend stays silent for a moment, until they reach a bench. He sits and pats the place next to him. Begrudgingly, Adam takes a seat.

“Are you still upset that I went to that concert? I understand if you are. It’s just that, every time I mention the band, you tense up. Don’t think I haven’t noticed.”

Darko hasn’t even said the band’s name, but Adam tenses regardless. At every mention of Nigel, Adam’s gut twists in a painful contortion. He feels lied to, naïve.

He only shrugs as an answer, his eyes glazing over as he goes over all of the conversations he’s had with Nigel, trying to find what about himself made the man not want to open up. Had Adam seemed untrustworthy? Or is it that he looked all too easy to lie to?

“Hey.” Darko squeezes his shoulder gently. “Don’t go inside.” He pokes Adam’s temple with his index finger. “Stay with me.”

“Where else would I go?” Adam replies, his voice drained of all discernable emotion.

Another moment of silence stretches between them before Darko severs it.

“If you don’t want to tell me, that’s okay.” He nudges Adam’s knee with his own. “I just don’t want you to bottle up whatever it is you’re feeling.”

Adam opens his mouth before he even knows what to say. Then, the words spill out of him like someone poked a hole in a water balloon.

“I feel stupid for not having recognized him, and even more stupid that he took advantage of that. I don’t understand why he lied!” Adam frowns. Nigel hadn’t technically ever lied. Not as far as Adam’s concerned. But when Adam would ask him about his life, Nigel would dodge it and throw the question back at him. “If Nigel had said he’s in the Mint Robbers, I wouldn’t have made a big deal of it-”

“Wait, wait, wait.” Darko puts both hands up. “Are you telling me you weren’t joking when you said Nigel Banyai was in your room?”

“Why would I joke about that?!” Adam asks, insulted by Darko’s insinuation that he would just make things up. Why would he fake something like that?

Darko’s eyes narrow. “What was he wearing?”

Adam rubs his hands on his thighs repeatedly. It isn’t hard to recall; Adam spent so much of the day staring at him. “Black t-shirt, black jeans, converse shoes. He had a carabiner on his belt loop with keys on it.”

He lifts his eyes up to see his friend is staring back with wide eyes.

“What?”

“I saw him this morning at Jackie’s. He was dressed like that.”

Adam nods. “He went because I told him to last night.” He rocks back and forth subtly. “We had breakfast together.”

“You were telling the truth...”

Adam scoffs. “Of course I was.”

Darko squeezes his shoulder again. “I’m sorry.” He clears his throat. “For not believing you at first.”

There’s another beat of silence. Adam wants to say it’s fine, but no words come out. He tilts his head back, staring up at the darkening sky.

“I don’t fucking like that he lied to you. I hate that he made you feel this way.” Darko then says, his tone cold, the way it is when he’s about to curse people out, “Just wait until I see the fucker again.”

-

Nigel washes the fake blood off his body in his hotel room’s shower. It’s sticky, and he has to rub hard, scrubbing his arms until they’re red with the intensity of the friction. The part he likes the most during their shows is when they play his favorite song, ‘ Forever, ever yours’ , and he gets to douse himself in fake blood and cover his face with a white veil. Like a bloodied bride. He would love to do more theatrical costumes and themes, but Carter and Éli are not quite on board.

After making sure he’s completely clean and won’t risk staining his towel, Nigel hops out of the shower and dries himself hastily, walking into his room naked. He throws himself backwards onto the bed and grabs the corded phone. Without wasting another second, he inputs Adam’s number that he has not only written down in his journal but that he has also memorized.

It’s past midnight, but he hopes that like last night, Adam will pick up. It rings and rings... and rings. When Nigel reaches the answering machine, he hangs up and dials his number again.

No answer.

After his fourth time calling Adam’s house, someone finally picks up.

“Hello?”

Nigel’s stomach drops. He knows that voice, and it’s not the one he wanted to hear.

“Can you pass me Adam?”

“No greetings, no ‘please’? Where are your manners?”

Nigel huffs out of his nose.

“He’s sleeping.” The man, who Nigel is 90% sure is Darko, continues. “You seen the time?”

There’s something off about Darko’s tone. Like he would spit in Nigel’s face if he were there. His eyebrows draw together. “I know it’s late. If he’s really sleeping, I get it. Tell him I called.” He huffs again before adding a gruff ‘please.’

“I’m not telling him shit,” Darko says.

Nigel’s blood starts boiling. “What the fuck’s your problem?!”

“I’d love to sit here and list them all to you, but I get bored so fast , and I’ve got things to do.”

The disconnect tone rings in Nigel’s ear, making his body thrum with anger.

He sees red as he slams the handset down on the cradle, almost breaking it with the force of impact. Nigel sits up and puts his face in his hands, a crushing wave of jealousy washing over him. Could Darko be Adam’s boyfriend? Could Adam have neglected to tell him? Or was he purposely hiding it from him? Why else would Darko be at Adam’s house past midnight?

He takes a deep breath in and slowly expels it. He’s being ridiculous. Adam hadn’t thrown Nigel out when Darko arrived earlier today. Nigel was the one who escaped, like a coward.

Still, anger is the dominant emotion in his body. Where do people get off trying to stop him from talking to Adam? First his bandmates, now this Darko guy?

-

“Was it Nigel?” Adam asks in a whisper when Darko shuts the bedroom door behind him. His friend lays down on the inflatable mattress next to Adam’s bed.

Darko seems to hesitate before answering. “Yeah. I hung up on him.”

Adam worries his bottom lip between his teeth, fidgeting with the hem of his weighted blanket. “What did he say... before that?” He hears rustling as Darko gets under his own blanket.

They’re having a sleepover, the way they used to when they were teens. Darko had stayed to make up for his absence during his birthday yesterday, and they watched a movie. The plot wasn’t very good, but he enjoyed Darko’s company. Adam only likes to be touched by a select number of people, and his best friend is one of them. He played with Adam’s hair as they watched the movie and sat close together on the couch.

“Adam, can I ask you a question?” His father had asked one evening, almost five years ago.

“Mhm,” Adam answered, putting the VHS tape of ‘Alien’ back in its sleeve.

“Are you and Darko... Together? In a romantic relationship, I mean.” His dad cleared his throat. “It wouldn’t be a problem, Darko’s a good kid-”

Adam’s eyes had widened, his mouth opening in shock. “Me and Darko?” He looked back down at the VHS tape in his hands and laughed. “No! Why?”

“Just... I have never been that close with my guy friends. You were cuddling on the couch, so I thought-”

“No, no. Darko’s my best friend,” Adam interrupted. “It’s just comforting to be held, that’s all. It’s completely platonic.” He laughed again, thinking how ridiculous it all was. Adam had no interest in Darko. Not sexually, nor romantically. He could acknowledge that he was a good-looking man, but there was nothing more than friendship there. If Darko had heard his father just now, he would have burst out laughing until he ran out of air. There was no one more heterosexual than Darko Vuković.

“He just asked to talk to you,” His friend replies through a yawn. “I have to sleep now; I gotta wake up at 6, or Tino’s gonna rip me a new one if I’m late again.”

Adam nods even though Darko can’t see him in the dark. He rubs the pads of his fingers together, not wanting to let go of the subject. “But, did he sound sad -or mad- when you said I didn’t want to talk to him?”

Darko yawns again. “I didn’t tell him that. I said you were sleeping.”

“Oh.” Adam taps his fingers on his thighs, over the blanket. “But what did he sound like? What did he say? Verbatim.”

“I don’t remember, Adam,” Darko groans, and Adam hears the inflatable mattress squeak. “He asked me what my problem was. He’s a rude little shit.”

Adam’s nervous stimming intensifies, and he bites his bottom lip harder. “Is he really? He was so nice to me…”

“S’not ‘cause he’s nice to you that he is to others.”

Though Adam is upset at Nigel keeping his identity from him, he doesn’t like Darko talking about him that way. The feelings are conflicting, and he doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do. No one had ever made his heart beat as fast as Nigel Banyai. Was he really going to let it all go to waste because of one omission?

-

Nigel barely slept, but in the little amount that he did, he had dreams of dark curls and blue eyes. Everything felt warm, and the air smelled like Adam's shampoo. He was under white sheets with him, the sunlight piercing through and illuminating him in an angelic glow. Adam was shirtless, his skin pale like a porcelain doll. He looked like a prince, straight out of a fairytale.

“Do you believe you love me?” He asked, his voice as sweet as cotton candy.

Nigel felt himself nod, his heart rattling against his ribcage. “Yes.” He reached out to touch him, but Adam moved out of his reach. “Do you love me?”

“How can you love someone when you don’t know who they really are?”

Adam’s answer made his blood run cold. “What?” He tried to touch him again, but Adam withdrew.

“You’re hiding parts of yourself.” Adam’s voice sounded far away. Nigel was scared to blink, lest he disappeared.

“Only to feel normal...” Saying it out loud made him realize how selfish it sounded.

“I want all of you, or none of you.” The voice seemed to come from all around him. He lifted a hand to touch Adam’s cheek, but the boy vanished.

Nigel sat up in bed with a gasp for air.

‘I want all of you, or none of you.’

Chapter Text

Darko wishes Adam’s safe foods included Fruity Pebbles. Or waffles, perhaps. The ones you can toss in a toaster. But no, to his misfortune, the boy had to like the blandest cereal known to man.

As Darko shovels bites of All-Bran into his mouth, a knock on the door startles him. It’s barely past 6 a.m. He keeps eating. This isn’t his house, after all; he has no business answering the door. Even though, he’ll admit, he’s here so often that it could qualify as his second home.

The knocking continues, more insistent this time. Darko sets his bowl on the counter and looks towards the bedrooms. The doors are still closed, everyone else still sound asleep. The knocking keeps getting louder, and at this rate, it’ll wake Adam up. If there’s one more-

Knock, knock, knock.

With a grunt, Darko unlocks the front door and swings it open.

He admonishes himself for not having taken a look in the peephole beforehand.

“Nigel.” Darko narrows his eyes. Being starstruck is a thing of the past when the man standing before him is a threat to his best friend. Darko doesn’t trust easily, especially when it comes to Adam’s circle. It’s non-existent for a reason. Everyone is too much of an asshole for Darko to let them get within ten feet of his friend. He smirks, a mockery of a smile. “At the risk of sounding like a broken record, have you seen the time?”

“I need to talk to Adam.”

As soon as the name leaves his mouth, Darko tries to slam the door in his face. Emphasis on tries as Nigel wedges his foot in the opening with agility. He forces the door open with his forearm, and Darko blinks in surprise at his strength. He takes a step back as Nigel enters the apartment, but remains cautious, ready to pounce if things go awry. Darko’s no stranger to fights, having dragged out more than one guest from Tino’s restaurant.

“Look.” Nigel takes a deep breath in and looks at Darko straight in the eyes. A sad little dog: that’s the image that comes to mind when Darko looks at him. It’s almost pitiful. “If you’re...” He swallows and clears his throat, like the words are hard to say. “If you’re his boyfriend, I’ll back off, but-”

Darko’s brows raise in surprise as he processes the words. “What?! I’m not Adam’s boyfriend.” The assumption is almost laughable. Adam’s an awesome guy, but Darko would never kiss a dude in a million years, least of all date one.

Nigel lets out a sigh of relief but quickly, his brows draw together. “Then why are you being so fucking hostile?!”

“Because he’s my friend?!” Darko scoffs. As Nigel is opening his mouth to speak, Darko interrupts him. “My turn; why are you being so secretive?”

“What do you mean?”

“Don’t play dumb with me.” Darko takes steps forward. He expects Nigel to stand his ground, but the singer backs away, stepping backwards slowly. “Adam knows. Jig is up.”

“What- what did he say?” Nigel’s voice is small, like his throat is constricting.

In Darko’s opinion, Nigel and Adam’s lifestyles are not compatible. Nigel is a superstar, always surrounded by loud music and even louder crowds. He’s a busy man with a hectic schedule. He’s in demand, and even though Nigel says otherwise in his interviews, Darko wouldn’t be surprised if he was actually a nymphomaniac. He has lied and omitted before. What is there left to trust?

So Darko does what he does best: Protect Adam. He takes one last look at Nigel and makes his decision. “Adam doesn’t want to talk to you anymore.”

-

Nigel lets the door slam in his face this time. He stares, unblinkingly with unseeing eyes at the space before him.

He doesn’t accept that. He won’t accept that. Not from Darko. If Adam says it himself, to his face -with that beautiful voice of his- that he doesn’t want to see Nigel anymore, then Nigel will have to respect that.

He swallows with difficulty as tears summoned from a cocktail of overwhelming emotions – ranging from anger to self-hatred- make his nose burn.

Not even then does he think he’ll be able to let Adam go.

-

“Can I repeat what Éli said yesterday?”

Nigel is sitting on the floor of Carter’s hotel room, back to the bed and knees drawn up to his chest. His eyes feel swollen. He doesn’t even want to look in a mirror for fear of seeing a puffy, red monster. “The floor is yours,” He mumbles, his nose stuffy.

Carter, who’s laying backwards on his bed with his head hanging off of it, continues. “You’ve known him for, what now, 40 hours? He’s not the love of your life, Ni, you don’t know him.”

“When you know, you know,” Nigel repeats for what seems like the tenth time today. After Darko slammed the door in his face, Nigel ran back to his hotel, keeping the tears from spilling for as long as he could. Before knowing it, he found himself in front of Carter’s door. As soon as his friend opened it, Nigel burst into tears.

He explained the whole situation to his bandmate. From the very beginning in the park up to what happened an hour ago.

“Lust at first sight, or even infatuation at first sight, I can believe,” Carter adds. “But Love ? C’mon, Ni.”

“ You don’t know him.” Nigel keeps staring ahead, his fists clenching and unclenching. “You don’t know what it’s like when he speaks about something he’s passionate about, and his eyes light up like a thousand fireworks. Adam is... magnetic. Mesmerizing... He’s the Perseid meteor shower in mid-August. He’s Polaris, always on the horizon, guiding me north. He’s the Big Dipper, visible to me at all times.”

Nigel takes a shallow shaky breath in, willing himself not to cry again. He has cried so much that the root of his teeth hurt.

“He’s kind and funny and accepting. He’s direct and blunt, but in a way that makes you grateful that he has no filter. Because then, you know what he’s saying is authentic.” He chokes on a sob. “And he’s so beautiful... Eyes straight out of the Impressionism art movement. Hair of a Bouguereau painting.” Air is becoming scarce as he heaves through his crying. “And I-I lost him all because I was too fucking selfish!”

The room is silent as he blows his nose again, adding another wad of tissue paper to the concerningly growing pile.

Carter sighs and twists his body to throw his legs over the bed. He sits on the floor next to Nigel and lays a hand on his upper back. “I’m sorry, man. Sometimes, what we wanted ends up not being what we needed. Maybe he wasn’t for you. Maybe... whatever controls our universe thought you were better off without him.”

Nigel scoffs. “Then God’s an asshole, and He doesn’t know what He’s doing.”

“Hey!” Carter looks to the ceiling, pretending to cower back. “Blasphemy!”

It pulls out a small laugh out of Nigel, and he blows his nose again. “I’m going to talk to him again.”

“God?”

Nigel elbows him in the ribs, and Carter lays dramatically on the carpeted floor as if he has been stabbed.

“Adam. I’m going to see him again.” He closes his eyes and lets his head hit the mattress. “When I don’t look so completely wrecked.”

-

When Adam wakes up, Darko has already left for work.

As he removes the bedding and deflates his friend’s mattress, his mind can’t help but wander to thoughts of Nigel. He had wanted to talk to Adam last night, and Adam had desperately wanted to hear his voice, but he had been too hurt by his lie. He misses that soothing deep tone of his, and his low hums that indicate that he’s paying attention to every word coming out of Adam’s mouth.

“Mhmm,” Nigel had hummed, that one night they talked on the phone.

“I like it when you make that noise,” Adam had commented impulsively.

“Yeah?” He swore he could hear Nigel’s smile in his voice.

“Yes. It makes me feel... warm.”

“Mmm...” He chuckled, the sound even deeper. “Was it distracting?”

“No. I- I like it, I feel like you’re really paying attention.”

“That’s because I am.” He chuckled again. “You were saying something about three dimensions of space and one dimension of time.”

“Yes!” Adam bit his bottom lip through a grin. Nigel’s attention made his heart flutter. “There’s also a microscopic extra spatial dimension-”

Adam truly misses him.

He puts the sheets into the hamper and folds up the mattress to place it neatly in its box. As he steps out into the kitchen, it’s as if his feet take the decision for him. He bypasses the fridge, skipping his breakfast altogether, and jumps into the shower instead.

Not long after, he’s tying his shoes, curls still wet against the back of his neck, and heading out the front door.

-

“Adam? What are you doing here?” Darko asks, drying his hands with a rag. When Adam walked into the restaurant, he had to muster up the courage to talk to the owner, Tino. The man is an intimidating monument of a man. Tall and large with a booming voice. But he did it; he asked, albeit very shyly, to talk to Darko, who works as a line cook in the breakfast restaurant.

“I needed to ask you something.”

His friend raises an eyebrow. “This seems urgent. You’re worrying me.”

Adam shifts from foot to foot, his gaze fixed on the mustard stain on Darko’s shoulder. “Did Nigel leave a callback number when you talked to him last night?”

It takes a second for Darko to respond. “No.” He shrugs. “No contact information at all.”

“He didn’t say where he was staying or where he would be next?” He’s holding out hope.

“No,” Darko repeats.

Adam groans. Frustrated but not defeated, he turns to leave and stops dead in his tracks. He gasps, turning back to look at Darko as an idea blooms in his mind. “Do the Mint Robbers have a show scheduled tonight?”

“I don’t know.” When Adam looks up at his friend, Darko avoids his eyes. “I’m on the clock, Adam.”

“ You don’t know? I find that hard to believe…” There’s something odd about Darko’s responses. Every time he talks about Nigel, Darko gets defensive and snappy.

“I’m not a groupie; excuse me for not knowing.”

“You’re being an asshole.” There. Adam said it.

“What d’you say?”

“You’re being an asshole. You’re acting really weird, and you’re being rude. I don’t like it at all.”

Darko sighs heavily through his nose and pinches the bridge of his nose. The silence stretches awkwardly between them. Adam is not going to apologize.

“They’re performing at CBGB, in the East Village,” he finally says in a grumble.

Adam grins and rocks back and forth on the balls of his feet. “Thank you, Darko.”

“You’re not going there alone. Be ready at 7. We’ll go together.”

Adam nods and leaves, his heart a little lighter than it was the day before. He’s still upset– he will keep being upset until he can talk to Nigel, until Nigel comes clean. But he wants to trust him, to have him in his orbit again.

And he’s certain there’s nothing they can’t fix with a conversation.

-

The venue is packed. Massively packed. To the point where being a sardine in a tin would be more comfortable in Adam’s opinion. They should have gotten there before 8. Way before .

When the spiky ends of someone’s gelled red mohawk almost pokes Adam in the eye, he glares at Darko.

“What?” He shouts to be heard over the music from the punk band currently on stage.

“Can’t we get closer to the stage?” Adam shouts back, adjusting his noise-canceling headphones. “There’s more room there!”

Darko rolls his eyes. “Good luck getting there! Everyone wants the best view for when The Mint Robbers come on stage!”

Adam huffs and starts trudging through the crowd, shoving and pushing. He’s going to go crazy if he stays where he’s surrounded. And the closer to Nigel, the better. He hears the offended exclamations around him, but he keeps moving forward, not caring if Darko is on his tail or not. But from the corner of his eye, he sees that he is.  

He pushes out a sigh of relief as he finally makes it to the stage. Quickly, he’s faced with another problem: The music is much louder in the front. Even with his noise-canceling headphones, the boom of the stereo is thrumming against his eardrums and making them hurt.

Darko finally joins him a minute later, standing to his right.

“Is it always so loud?!” Adam practically screams to be heard.

Darko nods. “Yes! And that’s what people like!” He points around, and Adam observes the crowd attentively for the first time that night. Though the club is dark with only green and pink lights flashing around the venue, he can make out that most people are dancing, dressed in alternative fashion with colored hair and tattoos. He feels out of place, his only ‘alternative’ t-shirt in the dirty laundry.

Would Nigel like it better if Adam had blue hair and a lip-piercing?

He’s snapped out of his thoughts when the music comes to an end. He grabs Darko’s forearm and squeezes, digging his nails into his skin.

“Ow!”

“Is Nigel coming on next?” He asks, his body shaking with the anticipation of seeing Nigel again. Especially seeing him in his element, now that he knows what the man is passionate about.

“Yeah!” Darko tries to pull his arm away, but Adam keeps holding on.

The staff moves items around the stage, preparing it for the band coming up next. Adam’s heart rabbits in his chest and he bites his lip so hard that he tastes metal.

-

After peeking through the opening of the door shielding him and his bandmates in the makeshift ‘backstage’, Nigel’s eyes grow two sizes.

“Change of plan.”

Éli almost chokes on the words she was exchanging with Carter as she snaps her head to look at Nigel. “What?”

“Change of plan,” Nigel repeats. “I want us to start the set with ‘ Forever, ever yours.’ ”

“No,” His friends both say in unison.

“We can’t make big changes like that at the last minute-”

Nigel interrupts Éli, “Adam’s in the crowd.”

Carter leans forward and peers out of the small opening in the door. “Which one is he?”

“Dark curls, navy sweater, right in front of the stage.”

His friend whistles. “You weren’t kidding when you hyped up his beauty.” His laugh is cut short as Nigel elbows him in the ribs for the second time that day.

Éli rolls her eyes. “Starting with ‘F.E.Y’ makes no sense, Ni. You’re gonna be covered in fake blood for the rest of the show? ‘F.E.Y’ is the highlight of the show.” She motions widely with her arms as she speaks “We do it at the end for a reason– You’re the one who insisted on putting it as the closer!”

“Can’t I make an exception tonight?” Nigel pleads. He looks at her with big round eyes, hoping it’ll sway her. “We can end with ‘Bloomsdale’; you love ‘Bloomsdale.’”

“Oh, fuck yeah!” Carter exclaims. Nigel knows his friend likes the guitar solo in that one.

“Ugh!” She throws her head back. “Fine! You’re the worst, Ni, you know that?” A smile tugs at her lips as the words leave her mouth. “Now hide your sad, wet peepers; you look like a mistreated hamster.”

-

Nigel decides to forgo the fake blood for tonight, but he places the bride’s veil on his head. This time, he doesn’t hide his face. He lets it drape down his nape and upper back.

Adam is there. Adam wants to see him. Nigel is going to bare his soul to him -all that he is- and welcome him behind the veil.

Nigel is the last one to step on stage, once Éli is settled behind the drum and Carter is done blowing kisses at the roaring crowd. He approaches the mic, and the blue spotlights come on, illuminating the stage in a dream-like hue.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

When the blue eyes in the front row make contact with him, he almost crumbles into dust. As Carter starts the first notes of the song, things around Nigel start to fade. His vision narrows, Adam the only thing clear and focused, like the Moon through a telescope.

The playing comes naturally, his fingers moving on the bass out of habit. It’s automatic, like breathing.

His gaze is still focused only on the beautiful boy in the front row as he starts singing.

‘My heart in your hands,

Pulsating and warm,

I vow til the end

Forever, ever yours’

-

Adam’s blood is pumping so fast that he can hear it course through his body. His heart is relentless, and his eyes are unblinking as he looks up at Nigel. He looks ethereal, his usually golden hair almost silver under the blue spotlights. The veil frames his face perfectly, falling neatly past his shoulders and shimmering in the glow of the stage.

And his voice. That voice . He has heard it a thousand times before when Darko listened to their CDs. But it’s different now. Now, Adam can hear the emotion in his voice, the emphasis on every syllable, the purposeful intonations.

“ Please, please, please, let me get what I want.” Nigel sings, voice straining as he repeats it over and over.

Adam’s eyes don’t leave him for a second, deeply focused on the man before him as Nigel kneels on the stage to bring his face closer to his. He cups his face with the trembling hand not holding the mic.

“Haven't had a dream in a long time
So, for once in my life
Let me get what I want,
To be forever, ever, yours.”

Adam’s heart stutters in his chest as Nigel leans even closer, capturing his lips between his.

-

In the middle of the song, Nigel deposits his bass on the stand, letting it be guitar, drum and vocals only. He needs to move freely.

His lips brush against Adam’s tentatively at first before moving them with purpose. The first thing he tastes is blood from an injury on the boy’s lip, and then, the sweetness of a sugar cookie. He smiles against his lips, a lovesick thing, as he drops the mic to bring his other hand to his smooth skin. Adam presses forward, impossibly closer, like he’s trying to merge their souls. Nigel wouldn’t be opposed to that, not in the slightest.

-

Adam had left once the kiss ended. But not without whispering in Nigel’s ear that he would wait for him outside. He is over the moon, if that is such a thing he can be.  

He’s pacing back and forth in front of the club, waiting anxiously for Nigel to come out.

“You’re making me dizzy,” Darko comments through a yawn. He blinks slowly, one eye at a time like a frog.

“You can go home if you’re tired,” Adam offers, still pacing.

As Darko starts to answer, Adam spots the man he’s been dying to see step out of the alleyway. He can’t keep his eyes off of him as he approaches.

“Hi, Adam.” His smile is wide, his voice gruff from the night of signing.

“Hi, Nigel.” His own smile falls as quickly as it appeared. “Why did you lie to me?”

Adam sees no point in beating around the bush. He wants these feelings of inadequacy to be over. He wants to understand.

Nigel’s shoulders sag, and he takes another step forward, slowly grabbing Adam’s hand. Adam lets him.

“It was selfish of me to keep my identity from you.” He takes a pause, rubbing his thumb over Adam’s palm. “When you didn’t recognize me, I saw it as an opportunity to feel normal again, the way I haven’t in a while. You made me feel like I was more than my fame. And I didn’t want to give that away. But it was inconsiderate.” He squeezes his hand gently. “I should have been honest with you, because you deserve it. If I want you to know all of me, I can’t hide this part of me away.” With his other hand, Nigel tucks a curl behind Adam’s ear. “I apologize. Do you forgive me?”

Relief washes over Adam’s body, soothing all of his insecurities in one quick swoop. He sighs, tension leaving his muscles. Adam was never the problem. He throws himself in Nigel’s arms and digs the tips of his fingers into his back, holding him so tightly that they might become one. “Yes. I forgive you.”

He can feel Nigel’s body relax against his. “You don’t know how relieved I am, beautiful. I was devastated when I heard you didn’t want anything to do with me…”

Adam pulls away abruptly. “Who said that?”

Both boys look towards Darko, who stares back, freezing mid-motion with a cigarette between his lips and his lighter half-way to it.

“Did you tell Nigel I didn’t want to see him again?” Adam asks cautiously.

“In my defense,” Darko says with the cigarette still hanging from his lips and hands up in a placating manner, “you did say you didn’t want to talk to him.”

“Not forever !” Adam shakes his head. “J-just last night!” He looks back at Nigel to see he’s rightfully glaring at Darko.

After exhaling a puff of smoke, Darko replies with his eyes cast down. “I didn’t want you to get hurt, Adam. I didn’t trust his ass.” He points to Nigel with his cigarette. “I watched people hurt you too many times, so you can be mad at me, I get it, but I was looking out for you.”

Without thinking, Adam smacks his best friend in the back of the head.

“ Jebote!” He exclaims as the cigarette flies out of his mouth and lands on the concrete. He raises a hand, the other one rubbing the back of his head. “Ok, I deserved that.”

-

His father always says that Adam shouldn’t be in parks late at night.

But he’s safe right now, because Nigel is with him, their hands clasped together as they sit on a large rock.

“So, will I ever hear what the plot of ‘Beau and the Beast’ is?” Nigel asks with a grin.

“I could just show you.” Adam giggles when he sees Nigel blink in surprise. “My favorite scene starts like this...”

Adam wraps his arms around Nigel’s neck and brings his lips to his, kissing him like there’s no tomorrow.

Through ragged breath, Nigel speaks gruffly against his lips, “And then what happens?”

“They have penetrative sex.”

Nigel throws his head back as he barks out a laugh. “You have such a way with words.” Adam joins into the laughter.

Nigel cups his face with his warm, rough hands and brings him into a hungry, passionate kiss that Adam can’t help but smile into.

For the first time in a very long time, Adam doesn’t feel alone anymore.