Work Text:
There was an infectious buzz backstage, one all too familiar that made Ray’s fingers twitch. The stench of sweat and cigarettes clung to the dense air, as people hovered around the cramped area. A couple of your band members milled around the space, paying him no mind as they were locked into a quiet heated conversation. He watched, with his back pressed against the wall, as you absentmindedly tugged at your lip ring. Your eyes had clouded over, as your mind drifted off to somewhere he couldn’t follow.
A pair of drumsticks stuck out of your back pocket, an accessory he had long since grown used to seeing. The tattered muscle tee you wore hung loose on your frame, exposing the artistry crawling up your left arm. Ray’s eyes swept over their colors and lines, as he struggled to push down the sense of intrigue that usually built up whenever he admired your tattoos.
“Are you nervous?” he finally asked.
You blinked and glanced up, your dull eyes brightening once they landed on him. Ray’s breath hitched, as some unknown feeling roused deep within his chest.
“Yeah,” you breathed out, as if the confession held weight. “You think I would be used to it by now, but every show still feels like the first one.”
“I get it,” he said, giving you a knowing look. There were times when he would clutch onto his guitar before a show and press his fingertips into the strings just to ground himself. Yet even with the bundle of nerves wading in his stomach, there was always something else swelling underneath it all.
It was the feeling of doing something larger than yourself. Of your existence finally having weight in the world.
“You’re going to kick ass out there, man,” he assured, smiling over at you.
Your lips quirked up, and the sight brought a sense of ease to Ray. The moment was cut short when Tucker – the lead singer of your motley crew – rounded the corner. A mop of dreads was piled atop of his head, bouncing with every step he took. His dark skin already holding a nice sheen of sweat to it, from the other warm lingering bodies and overall tight backstage space.
“Alright, guys, you ready?” Tucker asked, approaching.
Your other members, the bassist and guitarist, snapped to attention and nodded. You pushed yourself off the wall and rolled your shoulders, wincing as your back emitted a pop. Ray watched the movement, taking in the way your muscles flexed briefly beneath the fabric of your shirt. He felt himself flush and hastily looked away, a heavy feeling waded in his stomach as if he had been caught doing something wrong. Ray realized that – at times – it was easier being near you when he didn’t have to look at you.
Your band began making their way through the area, and to the main stage. Tucker had his arm casually thrown around you as he walked beside you. You flashed him a wide grin and winked before being nudged forward by your lead singer. Ray gave you a thumbs up, not wanting to shout as the roar of the crowd was already beginning to swell backstage.
He watched your figure go until you were out of sight, before maneuvering his way past the lighting and sound techs who brushed by him. When he stepped out of the secluded space, he was immediately hit with the overwhelming odor of sweat and cheap beer as the crowd was tightly packed together. The room was at max capacity, of one hundred and fifty rowdy people all clenching onto lukewarm beer cups and cigarettes.
Ray slinked past them, growing dizzy from the nauseating scent of axe body spray that somehow cut through the smell of nicotine and booze like a knife. He squinted, struggling to make out his own friends through the blur of faces moving around him. When he heard his name through the mindless chatter of the crowd, he turned to find Frank wildly waving him over. Relief flooded his senses, as he pushed through the other surrounding bodies and approached Frank, Gerard and Mikey who stood close together, as if they were a pack of dogs.
“Hey, man,” Frank greeted, before shoving a plastic cup in his face. “You want a drink? The booze tastes like shit but it’s cheaper than the water they sell here.”
Ray immediately shook his head. “Nah, I’m good. I offered to drive a friend home after the show.”
“Your drummer friend, right?” Gerard asked, from behind the rim of his cup. At the mention, something glinted in Frank’s eyes. It was the look of recognition, and the sight made Ray’s stomach cramp up.
“Yeah, he’s performing tonight,” Ray carefully said.
“Riiight,” Frank said, wearing a teasing grin. “Now it makes sense as to why you were itching so bad to be here to tonight.”
“Don’t fucking start, dude.”
“What? I just think it’s adorable, that’s all.”
Ray groaned, rolling his eyes as his friend’s grin only seemed to widen – if that was possible.
“Don’t press him too hard, Frankie,” Gerard said, nudging his side, though his eyes shined with amusement.
“Wipe those smiles off your faces,” Ray demanded, glaring over at them. This only caused Gerard and Frank to briefly glance at each other, before falling into a fit of drunk giggles. They leaned into each other for support, their blushed cheeks somehow becoming even more red. Despite the irritation bubbling inside his chest, Ray thought it was nice to at least see his friends enjoying themselves – even if it was at his expense.
“Come on guys,” Mikey quietly pleaded.
Once the two settled, wiping their eyes of imaginative tears, Ray couldn’t find it in himself to be annoyed anymore.
“Dude, you got a crush, it’s totally fine!” Frank said, reaching up to squeeze his shoulder in reassurance. Gerard softly smiled and hummed in agreement.
“I-It’s not a crush!” Ray exclaimed. His heart began to race the longer the two peered at him. Suddenly, it was as if he could feel every bodily presence inside the room, brushing and pulsing against him. He drew himself closer to the inner circle of his friends, as if it were an enclosed bubble.
This was the last place to have this kind of conversation, Ray realized. The others seemed to sense it too, as the smile slowly faded from their lips. Gerard reached out and grazed his fingertips over his elbow for a moment of comfort.
“Ray, it’s fine-
The crowd roared, their deafening screams drowning out his words. Ray turned just in time to see your band grace the stage, looking out at the audience with wide yet nervous grins. His eyes immediately found yours, as you took your place behind the drum kit. Gone was the faraway look, and quiet person Ray knew, as a certain energy seemed to be buzzing inside of you. It was as if you had swallowed sunlight, and Ray found he could not tear his eyes away from you.
Not that he wanted to.
“What’s up fuckers!” Tucker yelled into the mic, earning another roar from the crowd. “We’re Dead Nation and this is a new song of ours called Palette Cleanser.”
With that brief introduction, the band immediately dove into the song. It was a heavier mix, with a deep baseline and gravelly vocals as Tucker bore his soul out into the mic. Your face was pinched and tight, as you slammed on the drums with a force that reverberated against Ray’s ribcage. Soon enough, he found himself cheering along with the crowd.
He screamed along to the lyrics, as if he were pouring a lifetime of confessions into every word. The music pulsed beneath his feet, shooting up his calves like white lightening as he danced and jumped along with the audience. All the while, he kept his eye trained on you. Your strong arms glistened with sweat, as you thrashed and headbanged behind the kit. Ray found himself hypnotized with the way your eyes rolled back as you stared up at the ceiling, faintly mouthing along to the lyrics.
Suddenly, he found himself transported back to senior year. To your bleary eyes, and heavy shoulders during class. You carried yourself differently back then, as if with a sense of caution. He remembered a quiet confession from you once, behind the school bleachers where you would go to skip class and smoke. The sun was hot that day, shining down on your dreary face.
“I don’t want to die here,” you had told him.
The memory faded behind his eyes, as he looked up at you on stage. That time seemed so far now, yet it crept up over his shoulder ever now and then. The rasp in your voice, as if the words were begging to be swallowed back down.
He shook his mind off the memory and looked up at you on stage. Taking note of the way the lights bounced off your features, warming your already flushed face.
“He’s fucking killing it up there!” Ray shouted over to the others. They nodded, their eyes too enraptured by the lead singer to reply. Tucker was a wild frontman, commandeering the small, shared space with a level of confidence that was enthralling to witness. Yet Ray’s eyes would not focus on him for long, before inevitably finding you again.
You were radiant on stage, as if you were made up of a thousand stars. Ray was content with watching you like this from a distance, completely in your element and unaware of his lingering stare. Something shifted inside of him again, Ray could feel it weaving its way up his ribs and tucking itself deep inside his chest.
A noise broke through his throat, pained with understanding and horror. Perhaps these feelings had been a long-time coming, just buried beneath years of rubble of his high school youth of trying to blend in and not stick out. As he continued to watch you it all came spilling over, and Ray was frightened of what it all could mean.
For you, and him.
As Tucker’s vocals continued to tear through song after song, Ray’s heart only continued to beat faster until pressure began to build up in his head.
When the band came to a close, and began heading off the stage, you slowed for a moment. Your eyes scanned the crowd, squinting beneath the lights as if looking for someone. Ray’s breath hitched when your eyes finally locked with his. You gave him a subtle wink before trailing after the other members.
Ray could hear his heartbeat in his ears over the thunderous applause of the audience as he watched you walk off stage.
Someone nudged his side, snapping him out of the strange trance he had entered when your band – when you – had first appeared. Frank stared at him with a cheesy grin, as his eyes bore into Ray.
“Go on,” he said, “we’ll catch you later, we know you got other places to be.” Frank wiggled his eyebrows and gently nudged him.
Ray took on last look at his band members – at his friends – and sighed. He watched as Gerard gave him a gentle smile and mouthed “good luck” before turning into the crowd to go search for you.
*
When Ray found you backstage, you slung your arm over his shoulders and pulled him into your side. He was startled to find how well he fitted against you, the mold of your bodies slotting like puzzle pieces. You had rested your head against his shoulder and smiled against his neck. Ray tried not to focus on the imprint of your teeth against his pulse as it quickened from your touch.
When you pulled backed, and tousled his hair, you were still beaming.
“You mind helping us load up the van?” you asked, eyes searching his face.
Ray zeroed in on the trickle of sweat that rolled down your temple, feeling compelled to reach up and lick it. He instead took a step back, allowing your arm to drop from his shoulders. “Yeah, sure, no problem,” he said, suddenly jittery.
The immediate frown on your face was gut wrenching.
____
Ray glanced over at you, momentarily captivated by the lit cigarette clenched between your teeth. He drummed his fingers along the steering wheel, feeling the night and its awakened thoughts crawling underneath his skin. Nicotine clung to your jacket as if it were your own personal cologne. He knew the pack of Camels you smoked would continue to linger in his car, long after you were gone, acting as a stain of your existence. It was comforting though, to know your presence would remain even after you were gone.
“God, I’m fucking beat,” you muttered, leaning back into the seat.
Ray chuckled. “Just try not to accidently set yourself on fire before I get you home.”
You snorted, and plucked the cigarette from your lips, before blowing out a puff of smoke. Any previous adrenaline you had running through you earlier had been extinguished as soon as you slid into Ray’s car and let the night wash over you.
“You guys were killers on stage tonight,” Ray mentioned, smirking over at you.
“Thanks,” you said, taking another drag from the cigarette. “I’m glad you and the guys came out tonight. I know things are starting to pick up for your band, with the record out now.”
“I told you I was going to make it.”
You scoffed, the sound airy and light. After that, a long silence rested between you two, but Ray knew of the things still left unsaid. The words crawled up his throat and knocked against his teeth to get out. He swallowed them down, despite his insides screaming at him to speak.
Sooner than he liked, the drive came to an end as he pulled into the parking lot to the familiar shabby apartment complex you lived in. He parked, and sat back, huffing as if he had done some strenuous activity. The dim, warm lighting of the complex splashed into the dark vehicle, making the space seem more intimate than usual.
“You think we’ll both make it out of New Jersey?” you asked, glancing over at him. “I mean, I’m not too worried about you, I know you’ll get out. You’re too good at what you do to remain stuck here.”
“You seem really sure about that,” Ray said, unsure of how to feel. The conversation sounded too much like senior year all over again. His chest tightened at the memory.
“That’s because I am, I’ve seen you guys perform enough to know.”
“To know?”
“Whatever you guys have going on, it’s like nothing I’ve seen with the other bands,” you explained. “There’s this connection on stage between you all, it’s almost mesmerizing. I just know that whatever the thing is between you guys, it’s bigger than New Jersey. Shit, it might even be bigger than the world.”
The finality of your tone startled Ray, as if you were speaking of a future, you could already predict. He was even more alarmed to find that he agreed with you that there was some string of fate tied to them all and it tugged at them whenever they performed.
“I think-
Ray turned to you, the words dying in his mouth when he found your eyes already trained on him. Deep in them waded a broken hope that he had seen in you when you were both teenagers. For a moment time stepped back into the stuffy car, as a lifetime of dreams and naïve goals pressed down on you two.
Wanting to suppress the ache in his chest, Ray reached out and hooked his fingers onto your jacket. Before either of you could register what was happening, he surged forward and kissed you. It was sloppy, as your teeth clashed and noses bumped against one another. Yet there was a feeling of liberation as Ray sighed into your mouth, overwhelmed by the lingering bitter palette of nicotine on your breath.
Your hands came up to grasp onto his shirt, tugging him closer until his hip dug into the center console. Your lips parted, as your tongue greedily swiped against his bottom lip. A choked sob left his throat, the sound desperate and pained as his trembling hands pulled at the fabric of your hoodie. You moaned at the sound, your breath becoming unsteady as your lips frantically moved against him. He shut his eyes, and leaned into you, his body now hovering over your lap. His mind whirled at the fact he was kissing a boy, but it was desperate and overwhelming, and he found that the taste and smell of you combated any lingering fear he had beforehand. God, you tasted of youth, and days gone by, when the two of you would sit up in his bedroom and trade tapes and CD’S for the weekend as kids.
Ray found himself chasing the flavor, as a burst of memories continued to play behind his eyes. He remembered your very first show at 13 years old, in some junky garage with a bunch of other punk kids who had yet to learn how to tune their guitars. You came to life though, banging away at the drum kit with a manic kind of energy that had frightened him at first. He didn’t have a word for what he felt back then, but as Ray’s teeth nipped at your bottom lip, he came to understand what it was.
He loved you, and perhaps it had always been there. Hell, maybe that was where it all began, in a dusty garage with an audience of five people.
As his mouth continued hungrily chasing after you, lapping up any noise that escaped your throat, another realization hit him.
You were both going to make it out of here. That much he was sure of.