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The air inside the 9:30 Club is thick with the scent of stage fog, floor wax, and the lingering heat of several hours under heavy lighting rigs. Sub-Radio is a blur of motion, neon accents, and infectious energy. The iconic DC venue feels cavernous yet intimate, its tan-painted walls vibrating with the bass line of "Bi Bi Bi."
Adam is at the center of the frame, a position he occupies with a mix of practiced showmanship and genuine, raw joy. As the band’s resident bisexual, this music video for their Past Selves EP isn't just a professional milestone; it’s a public celebration. He’s wearing a tank top that shows off the lean muscle of his arms, his movements fluid as he dances. To his left and right, the rest of the guys are locked into the boy-band choreography they’ve been perfecting for weeks. Michael moves with a different kind of intensity. While the others—Matt, Kyle, and John—are hitting their marks with the earnest enthusiasm of allies, Michael’s presence is more grounded.
He’s a gay asexual man who, for a long time, simply identified as gay. His marriage to Adam is his bedrock, the one constant through every evolution of his identity. He watches the back of Adam’s head, a small, private smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. The music shifts, the bright, poppy synth-pads making way for the bridge. Matt, Kyle, and John step forward in a choreographed sweep, their voices blending in a self-aware, harmonized declaration.
🎶"I really wanna emphasize,"🎶 they sing, their faces a mix of theatrical gravity and "straight-buddy" sincerity. 🎶"I'm an ally and I've never had a thing for guys."🎶
A quick "Bi bi" backing vocal pops in, crisp and punchy.
🎶"But I think it's important to,"🎶 they continue, leaning in toward the camera with playful finger points, 🎶"be supportive of your buddies who are into dudes."🎶
The camera zooms in on Adam. He steps through the parting sea of his friends, his expression shifting into something endearingly professorial but still cool. This is the moment of clarification, the line he’s been excited to deliver since they first penned the lyrics in their practice space.
🎶"Just so no one gets confused,"🎶 Adam sings, his voice smooth and melodic. 🎶"I'm a Kinsey two. That's the fancy version of bi."🎶 He winks—a classic Adam move—and the chorus returns with a tidal wave of sound. The energy in the room hits its peak.
🎶"Bi bi bi,"🎶 they all shout, the "NSync" homage clear and joyful. 🎶"I don't wanna make a choice between girls and boys! But it ain't no lie..."🎶
As the song enters its final stretch, the "plain for you" section begins. This is the emotional heart of the track. Adam’s eyes find Michael’s in the reflection of a monitor or perhaps just through the haze of the stage.
🎶"Whatever your gender is, I'm gay for you,"🎶 Adam belts out.
Suddenly, Michael’s voice cuts through, harmonizing in a raw and loud, a beautiful, profane punctuation that wasn't strictly in the original demo but feels absolutely necessary now: 🎶"I'm so fucking gay for you!"🎶
The group enters the final pose. It’s the quintessential boy band finish: Matt, Kyle, John, and Michael are fanned out around Adam, arms crossed, shoulders squared, expressions fixed in a "tough but sensitive" smolder. Adam is in the center, leaning slightly back, shooting double finger guns at the lens. The backing vocals begin to fade. The director hasn't called "cut" yet, wanting to catch the "organic" aftermath.
Adam is leaning slightly more toward Michael’s side. The adrenaline is high, the room is hot, and Michael feels a sudden, irresistible surge of affection for the man he’s spent half his life with. Impulsively, breaking the stoic pose, Michael leans over and presses a firm, lingering kiss against Adam’s cheek, sliding toward the corner of his mouth. Adam wasn't expecting the shift in weight. He grins into the kiss, his eyes crinkling, but his heels catch on a loose cable. He wobbles, his balance vanishing.
"Whoa!" John and Kyle react instantly, reaching out to steady him by the elbows before he can hit the deck. But it’s Michael who reacts with the most practiced reflexes, reaching out and grabbing a fistful of Adam’s tank top, hauling him back to an upright position with a sharp tug.
"Gotcha," Michael mumbles, his face still flushed from the performance and the outburst.
Adam laughs, a breathless, genuine sound that rings out in the suddenly quiet club. He shakes his head, smoothing down his shirt where Michael’s grip had bunched the fabric. "You had some real golden retriever energy today, Mike. I thought you were gonna jump through the lens."
Michael shrugs, though he doesn't let go of Adam’s arm just yet. "How could I not? It's a coming out video in song form. This is like a first date! Everything feels new and terrifying and exciting."
Adam looks at him, one eyebrow arched in fond disbelief. "A first date? Michael, our first date was at a dive bar where the only thing on the menu was a questionable quahog chowder and domestic beer. There was a neon sign that buzzed so loud I couldn't hear half of what you said."
"Was not," Michael retorts instantly, his tone slipping into a familiar, rhythmic bickering that speaks to years of shared domesticity.
"Was too," Adam insists. "I remember the smell of old fryer grease on your sweater for three days afterward."
"Was not," Michael says again, more stubbornly this time.
Matt, who is currently unstrapping his guitar and watching the two of them with the weary patience of a brother, interjects. "Actually, that depends. What Adam's talking about was your first date as a married couple. The first time you guys went out after the 2015 wedding."
Adam snaps his fingers. "Exactly. That counts as a milestone."
Michael rolls his eyes, though his hand is now resting comfortably on the small of Adam’s back. "Well, I wasn't talking about that. I was thinking about our real first date-date. The one that actually started the clock."
Kyle, who joined the fold later than the others and didn't share the same high school hallways in Maryland, leans against an amp. "I actually don't know this one. What'd you guys do? Did you go to a movie and awkwardly avoid touching hands over the popcorn?"
Michael’s expression softens. His eyes go slightly misty, the "dreamy" look he gets when he’s traversing their shared history. "On our real first date, we ended up sitting on the library quad until 3:00 AM. We were supposed to be cramming for that brutal mid-term—the one with the essay questions that everyone failed—and we talked about everything except the exam. We talked about music, and the city, and how we both felt like we were waiting for our lives to actually start."
John lets out a theatrical, teasing sigh. "How romantic. Young love and academic negligence."
"It was romantic," Adam says, stepping closer into Michael’s space, his voice dropping an octave into something more private. "For sixteen-year-olds. I think I tried to impress you by reciting lyrics from a band you didn't even like."
Kyle frowns, doing the math in his head. "Wait. I thought you guys started dating after you graduated. Like, a college thing."
Michael shakes his head, ticking off the timeline on his fingers. "Nope. Founded the band in 2009. We were just kids, trying to sound like the stuff we heard on the radio. Then we started dating in 2010, right in the thick of junior year. We survived the end of high school, all of college, and got married in 2015. We've basically been the same unit since we could drive."
Adam looks at Michael. There’s a profound depth of history there—through Michael’s realization that his lack of sexual attraction to others wasn't a "brokenness" but a facet of his asexuality, and through Adam’s own journey of being "fancy bi." They have held each other through every version of themselves. Adam leans in and kisses Michael again, this time squarely on the lips. It’s a shameless, lingering kiss, indifferent to the cameras still being packed away or the crew moving around them.
When he pulls back, Adam is grinning. "I knew he was the one way back then," he says, gesturing toward Michael’s bag sitting by the drum kit. "When I saw his Quaxly keychain. I figured, anyone who appreciates a duck with that much style and a perfect 'quack' has their life together."
Michael laughs, the sound bright and clear. "It’s a very stylish duck, Adam. It has a pompadour."
"Exactly," Adam says, throwing an arm around his husband’s neck as they prepare to head out into the DC night. "That was the clincher. The rest of it—the talent, the heart, the 'fucking gay for me'—that was just a bonus."
They walk off the stage together, the lights of the 9:30 Club finally dimming, leaving behind the echoes of a song that told the world exactly who they are.