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Flux shrugs his shoulders up and curls his lip up as someone bumps him as they walk past. With an eyeroll, he scoffs and looks at Thomas incredulously. He waits a moment before he says, “Can we leave yet?”
And exasperatedly, Thomas sighs at him to say, “No, Flux. At least wait until we’re into the main show.”
“The main show is in an hour,” he whines, letting his shoulders drop. “I want to go home.”
He brings a hand up to play with the collar of his sweater. It was sitting below his collarbones and he kept pulling it closer to his neck. He picks at the cord of a necklace and resists the urge to chew on the crystal at the end.
“You’re the only one having a bad time. Rotation and Gotoga are already knee-deep in the merch line and Snowbird is getting you a drink.”
“Well then maybe I’ll order my own Uber and go home,” Flux sneers.
“Stay,” Thomas tells him, grabbing the scruff of his neck. “You’ll feel better once you get alcohol in you.”
“Isn’t it a little telling I have to be drunk to enjoy being here?”
Thomas digs his phone out of his pocket and checks the time. “If it sucks after the opener, I’ll take you home, but can you try talking to someone else, too?”
“I’m not getting drunk and talking to strangers. That’s horrible.”
“You have five people keeping an eye on you.”
“You could all look away at the same moment.”
“Flux, we brought you out so you stop being a prick and talk to someone new. You need a hobby or a boyfriend.” Thomas crosses his arms.
Flux curls his lip up. “I’m not a prick.”
Thomas opens his mouth to retaliate when Snowbird comes over with his arms full of red solo cups and cans of Twisted Tea. Flux takes a can and cracks it open.
The only reason he came out is because he didn’t have anybody to sit at home and play games with. If Flux had it his way, he would be sitting comfortably in his chair and playing something like Silent Hill or Minecraft. Sure, he’s a chud who sits at home and stares at a screen whenever he has free time, but he’s happy.
Or so he thought, because not only are all of his friends fed up, but they all tell him he’s been an asshole lately.
Their idea to remedy the perceived stick up his ass? Get him a date. Get someone else to handle him. Find someone who can drag him away from an eight-hour shift of playing games and shouting into his microphone.
To make matters worse, they’re using the fact one of Rotation’s favorite bands is hosting a concert in a nearby livehouse. They expect Flux to find a date at a concert. He doesn’t even like loud noises.
Picture it: Fluixon, surrounded by people he doesn’t know, in a sea of chatter, while wishing he could go home. He’s been dressed up nice (not by choice) in a baggy, ripped sweater and similarly baggy jeans. They got him to put on eyeliner and a choker just to catch someone's eye.
It’s just for tonight, but he feels like he’s peacocking just for the sake of being uncomfortable. It feels more like an intervention than a night out. He takes a sip of his Twisted Tea and curls his nose up at the tang of alcohol and tea on his tongue.
He turns the can towards him to read the front, then purses his lips together and takes another drink, all in pursuit of being tipsy enough to function without pouting.
In the background, they’ve been setting the stage up for the opening band. Most of the lighting shuts off overhead and the stagelights change to orange, red, and pink. Thomas nudges him towards the stage.
They got floor seats, which is to say they’re going to crowd near the stage in a sea of other people screaming and cheering to be close to the band. It wasn’t so loaded yet because this was only the opening act, but people were starting to buzz excitedly. They flocked towards the stage in a slow shuffle.
Thomas leads and finds them a spot close to the front. Flux stands with his arms crossed unpleasantly and sips his drink every now and then. Rotation, Gotoga, and Snowbird make their way to them through the crowd. Rotation as a new shirt and Gotoga has a few stickers.
On the stage, the opener band wanders out. They’re all in uniform– the same white shirt, black pants, black tie combination. The lead singer has a suit blazer on top and the guitarist has a cropped leather jacket, but the drummer and keyboardist are just in their white button-ups.
Flux couldn’t blame them. The venue’s hot with everyone so crowded up in it. He’s been rolling the sleeves of his sweater up and down awkwardly the whole time.
The lights dim again and there’s a guitar riff, a drum beat, and they’re already playing the opening song. Flux winces at the noise level. He resists the urge to cover his ears by just taking another drink.
They’re closest to the guitarist, and his amp is blaring right at them, and blaring through the speakers. The singer has the bass, but the guitarist doesn’t once glance up from his guitar. He keeps one foot on the amp and he just looks down, nodding his head as he plays. It’s hard to see the stage from where he’s standing with heads in the way.
Fluixon just stands there and shuts it out as much as he can. No offense to the band, but he’s not interested. He just wants to go home. His feet are starting to hurt from standing so long.
When it’s over, there’s a round of cheers and the singer takes a few breaths at the mic before combing his hair back. He swallows and smiles at the crowd. He lifts his hand from the neck of his bass to the microphone on the stand.
“Thank you,” he breathes, smiling. “Thanks! That was our original, glad you liked it.”
There’s another round of cheers. Flux skims the band. Their guitarist has finally looked up. Fluixon looks at his face for a second too long and then has to pry his eyes away before he starts staring into space.
“We’re a somewhat small, sorta new local band,” the lead singer continues. “On the keyboard, you’ve got ChuckNasty.”
The keyboardist waves.
“On drums we’ve got LuigiToan,” the lead singer continues to introduce. The drummer hits his sticks over his head and waves. “And that guy on guitar is Saparata.”
Saparata smiles and waves, then grabs the microphone in front of him and leans forward. “Fans can call me Saps.”
“I’m Flowtives,” the singer redirects. “This is our band, uh, Yellow Spade.”
The crowd starts cheering again. Flux grimaces and takes another drink. He feels less perturbed than earlier– must be his drink finally starting to buzz him. It’s about time. He glances over at Thomas.
Thomas doesn’t seem to notice, so he turns his attention back to the stage. They’re gearing up for their next song. Flux swallows and decides to listen to this one. The stagelights bleed to yellow.
For whatever reason (alcohol, in hindsight) Fluixon listens so intently to the guitar. The guitar line is sharp and reverberates through the venue. It’s almost sour, if you can call a guitar’s sound that, but that's how Flux hears it. It’s almost heavy, but that could be the bass blending with his untrained ears.
And then, somewhere in the chorus, Saps lifts his head and leans close to the microphone. His brows are creased and from where Flux is watching, he looks like he’s going to take a bite out of it when he starts to sing along.
Fluixon has never heard an angel sing before. He’s not so sure Saps sounds like one, either, but it’s close enough. He’s singing the backing vocals and he sings them well. Flux feels himself leaning forward like he’s being pulled in a little.
He stares at Saparata like he’s in a trance. He watches his face shift before he dips his head back down once his lines are over. Flux doesn’t understand guitar either, but he watched the way his hands move over the neck and he’s impressed enough.
When Saps lifts his head again his eyes are skimming the audience. He smiles a little as he surveys, and then, he starts to linger. Face by face, he stares, until he trains his eyes on someone specific.
It takes Flux far too long to release they’re staring at each other.
Then he smiles wider and dips his head back down instead of looking away. Flux instantly looks down at his drink. Instead of a sip, he throws his head back and finishes the second half of it all at once.
He starts to crush it in his hands before he turns on his heel and starts to go for another.
The song ends as he’s standing in line, waiting, and he dares himself to look at the stage again. When he does, there’s that damn guitarist, looking where he had just been standing a moment ago. He doesn’t turn his head.
Maybe it’s a good thing. Maybe he was looking past Flux, at someone else, and Fluixon was just imagining things. It’s like imagining a painting’s eyes following you– it’d be all in his head. There’s someone else in the crowd that Saparata is looking at.
Except there isn’t. He starts looking around. Flux looks back at the line in front of him and shuffles forward awkwardly. He’s got his wallet in his pocket and he’s scratching the faux-leather outside of it nervously.
He can’t really be thinking the guitarist is looking at him. That he would find Flux someone interesting to look at is a hilarious notion. It really just has to be in his head.
He digs his wallet out and trades a five-dollar bill for another Twisted Tea. He cracks it open and shuffles back to the floor. He moles his way through a sea of bodies until he finds Rotation’s piss-blond hair in the crowd.
They’ve managed to get closer to the stage. Fan-fucking-tastic. Now he’s got to pretend he doesn’t keep staring at the guitarist and the guitarist is staring back.
Now picture: Fluixon, avoiding looking directly at the guitarist, but he still watches from the corner of his eye and sees the guitarist looking at him.
He’s really starting to hope this opener band finishes soon. It’s all more trouble than it’s worth. He’s not going to get in over his head and entertain this. Literally nothing good could come from it; at best, he’s going to say a few words and miserably embarrass himself.
It’s just really hard to enjoy the show with someone staring at him so intently.
What makes it worse is that his resolve is really easily soluble when he’s got a little buzz. He even giggles a little bit as he glances at the guitarist, who meets his eyes again undeniably. Saps grins back at him.
That’s exactly what he was afraid of.
Flux smiles wider and he looks to the side again. He has to look ridiculous. He takes a drink to sober himself up and he physically wipes his grin off of his face. Thomas elbows him and leans over.
“Are you having fun yet?” He asks, yelling over the music.
Flux curls his face up. “You see it too, right?”
“See what?”
“Nevermind,” Flux shouts back.
He looks back up at Saps. Saps meets his eyes, and then he winks. He fucking winks. He closes one eye with a thinly-veiled smirk on his lips and then he looks back at his guitar.
He goes into a guitar solo. You can’t make this shit up. Fluixon is wondering if he should just leave now. He’s the one that dressed up, but he feels like he’s watching a peacock fan it’s tail at him. It’s not a particularly complex solo, but it’s the timing that makes the moment.
The stage lights all swing to focus on him, one of every color, and he glows white beneath them. His sound is clean. He nods his head in time with the beat. In the audience, Fluixon flicks the tab of his can.
Saps is walking with the guitar, towards Flow, and he’s smiling big. Flow smiles back at him and they’re playing guitar together. Saps gets more and more into it until he raises his arm high into the air before bringing it down to play the final riff.
The last note rings out and the crowd claps and cheers.
Saps lifts a hand up and waves at the audience. He forks his hair away from his eyes and he looks back at Flux one more time. He raises an eyebrow as if to ask, “Did you like it?”
Flux tries to shrug coyly, but he splits into another fit of laughter and has to cover his mouth.
“That was our last song tonight,” Flowtives says into the mic. “We can’t give all our music away. If you wanna hear more, then come see us again, or play us on Spotify or something. Pretty sure we’re on Apple Music too, right?” He glances back at his band and gets a nod. “We’re on Apple Music.”
Saps pulls his guitar strap over his head and sets it on his amp. He grabs his microphone and points at the audience. Flux swallows.
“Thanks for listening to us tonight, everyone! You having a good time?” He waits, and the crowd responds with a round of cheers again. “Alright, hell yeah. Okay, we know who you really came for, so we’re gonna get on with the show. We’re Yellow Spade, everyone, goodnight!”
He takes a step back and waves. The venue lights turn back on and they start to mess with their instruments. Flux watches Saps move across the stage with his guitar and a water bottle in hand.
Flux elbows Thomas. “Hold my drink. I need to piss.”
Thomas takes his drink. “Sure.”
“Thanks.” Flux looks at Saps on stage one more time and savours it as his last glimpse of him quite possibly ever.
Once again, he makes his way out of the crowd. There’s a line for the bathroom, so he just digs his phone out of his pocket and starts to scroll. He glances back towards the stage, but it’s hard to see from where he is.
He looks at his phone again, opens Spotify, and types in the band name.
Less than a thousand monthly listeners. What the hell, sure, he’ll follow them. Only because the guitarist looked at him with nice eyes. He looks them up on Instagram and Twitter. They were based relatively close to where Fluixon lives.
The line shuffles forward slowly. He goes back to scrolling indefinitely. The bathroom lights sober him a little, and he walks back out of it with his head a little clearer.
Within five steps, he runs into that guitarist.
He freezes in his tracks when they lock eyes. Saps lights up with a grin and comes up to him. There’s no way he had to wait in line for the bathroom long enough for them to clean up set, but when he looks past Saps, they did. He blinks a few times.
Okay, his sense of time when he’s buzzed is poor.
“Hey,” Saps shouts over the crowd chattering, looking him up and down. “Didn’t think I’d run into you.”
“Hi,” Flux manages to reply as loud as he can get, blinking rapidly. “I, uh, I thought you’d be backstage.”
“Oh, yeah, well…” Saps shrugs. “I can kinda go anywhere I want. I was going to get a drink.”
“Don’t let me get in your way, then,” Flux says, sidestepping. Saps matches him and tilts his head.
“What was that?” He asks, raising his voice.
“Go get your drink!” Flux shouts back.
“Ohh,” Saps nods. “You want one? I get them free.”
Flux blinks a few times and nods dumbly. Saps smiles and points at the ground. He takes a few steps away.
“Don’t go anywhere, okay? Be right back.”
Then he’s gone again. Fluixon swallows and pulls his phone out of his pocket. He opens Thomas’s messages and types out:
keep my drink. met someone
Then he pockets his phone.
Now he’s got a problem: he’s talking to this guy and he’s gotta avoid blowing it to smithereens. If the way they kept making eye contact was enough of a gauge, then this guy is interested in him. And since Flux’s interested enpugh to entertain it, he has to be careful. He’s talking to someone who just made a whole crowd swoon at his talent. He’s gotta keep his cool.
… Who is he kidding, this guy winked at him.
He feels his phone buzz in his pocket and he checks it to see Thomas has replied with a series of celebratory emojis. He rolls his eyes. As he goes to send a series of middle fingers back, Saps comes up to his side with a red solo cup in hand.
“Didn’t know what you wanted,” he says, and his smile has turned a little sheepish. “It’s, uh, it’s something with gin.”
Fluixon takes the cup from him and sips cautiously. He tastes it and makes a face, then shrugs. Saps watches intently.
“It’s not bad,” he decides.
“Not bad?” Saps repeats, a little louder. Flux nods. “Sorry, it’s really hard to hear you in here. Wanna step outside?”
This is when it becomes really apparent that Flux has a poor sense of safety, because he nods without thinking twice. Saps smiles and takes him by the sleeve to pull him around.
He drags Flux backstage and then out a side door that was propped open.
He takes a seat on a bench and reaches into his pocket, then pulls a pack of cigarettes and a lighter out. He holds the box out to Flux. Flux plucks one out and he’s suddenly thankful for all the times he stole cigarettes from his dad. This moment would be more awkward if not.
Saps holds his lighter out and flicks it, then pats the bench beside him. He sets his drink on the ground beside his feet and Flux mirrors it as he blows out a puff of smoke. Saps leans back and loosens his tie.
“Here we go. Quiet.” he says.
“I hate loud places like this,” Flux sighs before taking a long, slow drag. He blows it out and looks up at an overhead lamp with moths circling it. “My ears are still ringing.”
“Why’d you come to a concert if you hate loud sounds?” Saps asks.
“My friends. They wanted to get me out of the house.”
“Oh, yeah, been there,” Saps says, leaning down to pick his drink up.
“Yeah,” Flux echoes mindlessly. He shakes the ash off of his cigarette and adjusts the ends of his sleeves again, then leans forward and puts his hand in his chin. His elbow digs into his knee, but he doesn’t care. “So, local band?”
“Yeah. We released our first songs, like, three months ago. We used to just cover stuff.” Saps takes a drag. “You from here?”
“Maybe,” Flux purrs. “Why?”
“Can I be honest?” Saps asks.
“I’d certainly hope you’re honest with me,” Flux tilts his head at him.
“Okay, okay. You’re cute. At least, I think you are.” Saps winces as he says it. “There.”
Fluixon resists the urge to slack his jaw. Why was this so easy? At this rate, Thomas will leave him alone about being a prick in no time.
“Really?” He turns to look at Saps over his shoulder.
“Is that weird? I don’t even know your name.”
“Fluixon,” he supplies. “Just use Flux. Everyone does.”
“Even your name is cute.” Saps kicks a foot out and bounces his heel on the ground. “Flux. Yeah, I like that.”
Flux picks his drink up and takes a sip. He leans back the way Saps does and watches out of the corner of his eye. Saps blows another puff out and watches it dissipate.
Flux tilts his head back for a bigger drink and chokes it down in one go.
“So, do you usually stare at people while you’re playing?” He asks, turning to Saps.
Saps turns his head at him and smiles. “Nah, you’re just special.”
Then he sits up straighter and angles himself to face Flux better. He puts his elbow on the back of the bench and rests his head against his hand. Flux can see an earring sparkle under the lamplight.
“Do you usually let guitarists hit on you?” Saps asks, bringing him back to focus.
“Depends.”
“On what?”
On absolutely fucking nothing, because Fluixon hasn’t ever been in this position before, but that was information Saps didn’t need to know.
“Mystery criteria.”
He reaches out and grabs Flux’s necklace. His fingers are soft when they brush his neck. He curls them under the cord and pulls the crystal out from the inside of his shirt. He twists it in his fingers and then drops it. It bounces against Flux’s chest.
“Do I gotta play twenty questions to figure it out?”
Flux pretends that he hums in thought for a second. “I won’t put you through that.”
“I was kinda hoping the answer was yes,” Saps pouts. “Then I could learn about you.”
“You could do that like a normal person,” Flux points out. “Then it’d feel like less of an interrogation.”
Flux finishes off his cigarette, flicking it to the pavement. Saps watches and laughs at him. “Shit, you’re right. You’re a clever guy.”
“That’s a nice way of putting it. Usually people just stop at calling me a smartass.”
“Really?” Saps scoots closer to him. “Couldn’t tell.”
“Same with you,” Flux says. He eyes Saps’s cigarette. “You gonna finish that?”
Saps lifts his cigarette up. Flux reaches up to take it, but Saps has other plans. He grabs Flux by the chin in one hand. He takes a long drag and then closes the gap between them.
Saparata breathes smoke into his mouth and Flux doesn’t hesitate to accept. He breathes it in and lets it scratch his throat nicely. He lets it fog into his lungs and Saps doesn’t let a wisp free. He holds Flux in place.
Briefly, Flux realizes that this counts as a kiss.
He has to pull back to cough, turning his head as smoke clouds out in little puffs. Saps leans back and rests his hand between them. Flux wipes his face on his sleeve and coughs again.
“That was bold,” he manages between coughs, reaching for his drink. He takes a sip and Saps watches.
He tries not to think of how soft his lips had been. Or how warm and nice it felt to have someone kiss him. Or the intimacy or sharing smoke with somebody like that right off the bat.
“Sorry,” Saps grins and scratches the hair on the back of his neck. “I’ll warn you next time.”
“Next time?” Flux parrots, wiping his face.
Saps gives him a look as he reaches for his own drink. “Well, uh, that’s assuming you–”
Flux leans back in and presses their lips together again. Their noses bump and he misses his mark at first. Flux leans back and fixes it. Their lips press against each other in a pucker.
Saps reaches his hand to the back of Flux’s neck and leans away. He runs his thumb up and down his nape and Flux feels like a kitten held by the scruff of his neck. He lets his shoulders fall lax and leans after Saps. He smiles and tries to flutter his lashes.
“You’re adorable,” Saps says, scratching up the back of his head..
Flux blinks at him a few times with that ridiculous, lopsided smile on. “I like you.”
He would never say this in sound mind, and it’s not even that he’s really drunk. He’s buzzed at best. He’s still entirely conscious and even a little embarrassed about what he’s doing, but it’s nothing more than a good laugh right now. It’s just Saps that’s doing something to his head.
He’s never admitting it to them, but his friends were right. He needed to get out more. He tilts his head back into Saps’s hand again and Saps continues to scratch it in response.
“Careful,” Saps says, pushing his head closer again. “We just met.”
“You hit on me first,” he says, reaching up and grabbing Saps by the tie. “You’ve only got yourself to blame.”
He wraps it around the top of his knuckles and pulls Saps in for another kiss. He pecks him on his lips, then across his cheeks. Saps brings his hand forward and takes him by the jaw. He puts his hand over Flux’s mouth.
“Okay, alright, I get it,” he laughs. “I get it. You’re persistent.”
Flux lets his tie go to pull his hand down. “I’m not usually like this.”
“Really? Could’ve fooled me.” He moves away and stands up. He knocks his cup over with his heel and it spills on the ground. It echoes and rolls in a half-circle before it stops. Saps bends down and picks it up, then crushes it in his fist. He holds his other hand out.
Flux takes it and he’s pulled to his feet. He picks his drink up and splashes it out on the ground, then tries to mirror how Saps crushes his own. Saps nods to the door.
“You wanna go back inside? We can hang out backstage.”
“Am I allowed to?” Flux asks.
“If you’re with me, then yeah, I think.” Saps shrugs. “I dunno. I’ve always heard of guys taking groupies backstage. Why shouldn’t I be able to take you?”
Flux crosses his arms playfully. “Am I your groupie, then?”
“Is that what you want me to call you?”
“Does it count if you singled me out of the crowd?”
“I dunno. I was considering asking you out on a date tonight when I came up to you.” Saps reaches for the door and pulls it open. “Only if you want.”
“Is it a habit to kiss someone before you ask them out?” Flux moves for the door and goes to step inside. Saps follows after and lets the door swing shut behind him.
“Well, I don’t ask people out often,” he confesses. “You just caught my eye.”
Flux turns around with his face warming up in an embarrassingly undeniable blush. “Okay, okay, you can stop flattering me, you’ve already got me.”
Saps stands up straighter. “I wasn’t trying to flatter you.”
“Oh my god, you can’t be a real person. You’re my hallucination.” Flux reaches into his pocket and pulls his phone out. The unsent line of middle fingers is still waiting. He sends them and closes Thomas’s chat out before turning his phone to Saps on a fresh contact screen.
Saps takes his phone and starts to type his name and phone number in. He sticks his tongue out as he starts to scroll something. Flux swipes for his phone back a second later.
Saps named his contact ‘hot guitarist’ and a series of heart and fire emojis.
“Dude! I was looking for the guitar emoji! Lemme put it on!”
“I’ll put it on later. I’ll change your ridiculous name, too,” Flux scoffs, opening the message screen. He sends a simple wave emoji. Saps’s phone buzzes in his pocket and he takes it out. He marks the contact down.
Flux looks over and sees his name entered as ‘FLUIXONNNNNN’ and a long row of heart eyes. He curls his nose up, but he doesn’t mention it. He gets a photo of a cat back.
“That’s Joseph. You like cats?”
“I’m more inclined to dogs,” Flux admits.
“Seriously?” Saps reaches around his shoulders and starts walking him backstage, bringing him past sound sets and instrument cases. “You seem like a cat guy.”
“And you really seem like a dog.”
“I’m taking that as a compliment.” He rubs Flux’s shoulder. “Let’s go get that autograph. I’m pretty sure I can find a napkin and a sharpie somewhere.”