Chapter Text
His bare skin itched as it touched the rough wood of the old park bench. It creaked under his weight, and another creak followed as Nic dropped down beside him. Their bare upper arms brushed, and goosebumps rose on Shane’s pale skin.
Everything had started with a successful concert. It had been incredibly hot, and the summer evening had pushed every member of Shane’s band—including himself—to take off their shirts and perform half-naked. The crowd had gone wild the moment the shirtless band members stepped onto the stage, and Shane couldn’t even blame them.
He’d had to seriously pull himself together backstage. A dirty comment sat constantly on the tip of his tongue, and he’d barely managed not to stare too obviously. One bandmate in particular had left him breathless. He was sure that soon there would be videos circulating online showing how often he’d stared at Nic throughout the concert.
He didn’t even know why, but no matter how hard he’d tried, he hadn’t been able to take his eyes off the young guitarist in his self-founded band. Which was weird, because the band itself had… a very diverse dynamic.
There was Shane, for starters—founder and singer. He’d been into singing and writing since he was a kid. His parents had called him their “little composer” when he was four, and at every work event, people would talk about his voice. He had never lost a karaoke competition.
His best friend James had been the first to join the band. They’d known each other forever, and James now played piano during rehearsals and shows. He got every song idea and every gossip update from Shane first-hand.
But the band wasn’t just the two of them.
About two months into their duo era, a guy named Daniel stumbled into their band life. Daniel—or Dan, as everyone called him—was a classmate and had instantly decided he needed to be part of the group. He made it his life’s mission for three weeks to get accepted until Shane and James finally gave in. To both their surprise, Dan was actually a way better drummer than expected.
One day, Shane casually mentioned they still needed a guitarist. And the next day, some guy neither of them had seen before showed up at rehearsal. Dan introduced him as Nic.
Nic was a year younger than the rest and didn’t say a single word at first—just stared at the floor, bored out of his mind. When they asked if he wanted to play something, he silently walked over to a guitar in the corner and, after a few hesitant moments, started playing the most beautiful solo Shane had ever heard. Of course he became part of the band, and three years later, he still was.
It turned out that Nic was Dan’s younger brother and had been taking guitar lessons since early childhood. Dan was the only one really close to him. James and Shane had tried countless times to connect, but Nic always kept his distance.
After the concert, no one bothered to get dressed again. Dan and James were practically falling asleep backstage and left quickly for the hotel. But Shane and Nic still had way too much energy to just go to bed.
It wasn’t normal for them to hang out alone. But somehow, it just happened. They were still bandmates, still technically friends, and both still riding the adrenaline rush.
They ended up in a relaxed conversation about the show and some random fan’s hilarious facial expression. As they wandered aimlessly through the streets of Berlin, Shane realized he was really enjoying Nic’s unusual company. They kept walking until they found themselves in front of a dark little pub.
Getting drunk and then trying to find their way back to the hotel with almost-dead phones? Sounded like a genius plan.
What could possibly go wrong?
Their time in the pub was filled with Shane coughing after every shot, soft background music, and Nic’s laughter. Everything felt lighter. It was like Nic’s usual dark aura had melted away—apparently alcohol did that to him. He seemed... normal. Not withdrawn. He cracked joke after joke and laughed harder at his own dumb puns than Shane did. But Shane couldn’t wipe the constant grin off his own face either.
Whenever Nic wasn’t looking, Shane studied his face—his sharp cheekbones, the shadows cast across his skin, the way his eyelashes curled, his eyebrows darker than his pitch-black hair. His eyes were this unreal gray-blue, and for once, they weren’t distant. They were warm. A warmth Shane wanted to wrap himself in.
Hours later, they stumbled out the pub, both way too drunk. Their hands found each other without thinking. Shane kept pulling Nic up whenever he randomly decided to sit in puddles on the side of the street because they looked “refreshing.”
He was absolutely a toddler when he was drunk.
Shane found himself wondering if this was the real Nic. Playful, funny, chill. Or was it just a version of him that only came out with enough alcohol? He could ask Dan, sure. Dan was his brother and the only one Nic really let in. Maybe Nic didn’t have that dark cloud when he was with people he trusted.
Shane wanted to be someone Nic trusted. But asking Dan what his little brother was like when no one forced him to be anything would probably not go over well. Shane wasn’t an idiot—and he knew exactly how strong Dan’s protective instincts were.
Every time Shane bit his lip, it was to stop himself from thinking about how adorable Nic looked. He stomped dramatically every time Shane pulled him along and pouted like a kid. Eventually, Shane gave up the idea of walking through the night and collapsed onto a bench in the park.
And now they were here. Sitting side by side. Still holding hands. Way too much body contact.
Shane was talking about an idea for their next show, but Nic wasn’t really listening. His eyes kept fluttering shut.
Suddenly, Nic let go of Shane’s hand. For a second, Shane thought he was about to slide away—too much contact, too much closeness. But instead, Nic slumped down, resting his head on Shane’s lap and curling up on the bench.
Before Shane’s brain could catch up, his hand was already buried in Nic’s soft hair, his other arm wrapped protectively around his shoulders.
It felt... weirdly natural.
“You’re so warm,” Nic mumbled. Shane couldn’t stop the smile that broke out across his face. He went to cover his face in embarrassment, but strong hands stopped him.
“Don’t move,” Nic whispered. “This is good.”
Shane swallowed. He didn’t say anything. Just stared at the veiny hands wrapped so easily around his wrists, holding him still.
Of course Nic had strong hands—he was a guitarist. But that didn’t make them any less attractive.
Shane couldn’t help himself. He carefully traced Nic’s hand with his fingertips. His skin was soft and cold. It was barely a touch, but it made Nic open his eyes and look at him. His eyes sparkled.
Then Nic pressed himself closer. If the streetlamp nearby hadn’t thrown a faint glow on them, Shane probably wouldn’t have noticed the soft pink blush on Nic’s cheeks.
Nic’s lips were even softer than his hands.
Shane didn’t know who started the kiss. All he knew was the gentle feel of Nic’s mouth against his. Everything else faded. There was only Nic.
The guitarist sat up, shifting into a new position. Suddenly, he was sitting on Shane’s lap, arms around his neck.
And still—Shane was taller.
He felt Nic smile against his lips and only then realized his hands had found Nic’s waist, pulling him closer. His fingers traced light patterns on Nic’s bare back. He could feel the goosebumps there, under his touch.
The kiss wasn’t wild. It was intimate. Like they’d done it a thousand times before.
Then, out of nowhere, Shane’s brain snapped back into place.
He was kissing a boy.
His guitarist.
They were both drunk.
He was KISSING his DRUNK, MALE GUITARIST.
He pulled away with all the willpower he had, locking eyes with Nic. Those blue eyes were filled with lust, affection, and alcohol.
Shane didn’t want to pull away. He didn’t want to ask Nic to move. Even with the heat between them, he could still feel Nic’s coldness.
So he let the alcohol take over. He pulled Nic into his arms again, holding him close. His forehead rested on Nic’s bare shoulder, and he felt Nic’s head lean against his.
They stayed like that for a long time. Pressed together.
And in that moment, Shane decided:
He’d deal with the consequences tomorrow.
Tonight, he’d just enjoy the warmth of the boy beside him. The openness and affection Nic usually kept so well hidden.
Tomorrow could be about guilt and confusion.
But for now… it didn’t matter.