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A loud (and maybe a tad bit over dramatic sigh) left Lars’ mouth as he flopped onto your shared bed. It had been a long day in studio with the guys, especially James. They’ve been going through a rough patch lately, they were both arguing and disagreeing a lot. It was affecting not only the band, but his mental health as well. He loved music, he loved drumming, and he loved James, but he was dreading their work at the studio as of right now.
Rolling his shoulders back and squeezing his eyes tight shut, he took a few deep breaths to dissipate his anger and tension.
It helped some, but not as much as he would like. He still felt frustratingly tense and mad. He wanted it to dissipate completely or to where it was somewhat ignorable. He was tired of feeling like this.
‘’Honey!’’ A voice called out from the hallway, ‘’Is that you?’’
Lars opened his eyes and ran a hand over his face, ‘’yeah, it’s me.’’
A few seconds later, his partner, you, emerged with eyes full of concern. ‘’I’m guessing it was another bad day?’’
He nodded, eyes fixed on the ceiling. You hurried over and sat beside his laying body that was almost in starfish position. ‘’Is there anything I can do to help you through this?’’ A small, sad smile formed on his face. ‘’Can you fix mine and James’ relationship or make things go back to the way they were?’’
You hated that you had to say no and give him the truth. ‘’No, Lars, I can’t do any of that…and if going back to the old days was possible…then it would lead you back to this, and th—the only way you can handle this is doing whatever needs to be done. I’m so sorry, honey, but, this something you and James are going to have to figure out yourselves.’’
Silence fell between the two of you, which worried you. Was he upset over this? Was he not in the headspace to deal with it? Was he going over things that have been happening recently or mulling over what you said? You pressed your legs against your chest and wrapped your arms around them, unsure if you should ask him what he’s thinking about, you didn’t want to have him relive recent bad memories or pry too much in his and James’ business.
‘’You’re right,’’ he murmured gently, ‘’we’re gonna have to do what has to be done and figure this shit out ourselves.’’ The worry lifted from your shoulders, but not the feeling of guilt you had from being unable to help him with this.
‘’I’m sorry,’’ you said, reaching out and taking his hand, ‘’I wish I could help.’’ He tore his eyes away from the ceiling and looked up at you. ‘’Don’t be, this isn’t a shit storm you should deal with. Besides you being here for me is enough.’’ He then brought your hand up to his lips and pressed a gentle kiss to it. You smiled. ‘’Thank you, but I’m your spouse, I should be able to help—‘’
‘’Hey,’’ he interrupted, lifting his free hand up, index finger pointed at you, ‘’no, buts, you’re doing a wonderful job already.’’
‘’Still, I wish I could do more. It doesn’t feel right for me to stand on the sidelines while you go through this.’’
‘’It’s okay, things will work themselves out the best they can,’’ he assured. The guilt in you didn’t fully leave you, it made its way into the back of your mind, a looming presence. You didn’t know what else to say, so you just stayed silent and let your eyes drift down to stare at your hand in his.
You looked at your intertwined fingers for what seemed like awhile. Until an idea dawned on you.
‘’Hey,’’ you exclaimed, ‘’I think I know what might help you feel the slightest bit better.’’ He looked up at you with curiosity. ‘’What is it?’’
‘’A hand job!’’ you replied jovially.
Lars’ eyes widened and his mouth parted. You instantly realized your mistake, a bright red blooming on your cheeks. ‘’I—I didn’t mean that type of hand job—I meant a hand massage.’’
Your husband burst into a fit of laughter, letting go of your hand and rolling from side to side. Your embarrassment almost made you miss the true, happy laughter that rang out of him. Something you hadn’t heard in a while. It gave your heart a pleasant warmth despite still dealing with the big distraction that was your embarrassment.
‘’If…’’ Lars began, speaking through fits of laughter, ‘’you—you meant a massage, then WHY did you say that?’’
‘’I don’t know,’’ you replied, slapping a hand on your forehead, you couldn’t believe you worded hand massage wrong. ‘’I just got excited about helping you releasing tension that it just came out.’’ Lars continued laughing at your mistake, while you sat there and watched.
When Lars calmed down from his laughing and took in some much-needed air, he placed his hand next to yours. ‘’Alright, babe, I’m done laughing, go ahead.’’
You straighten your legs and grabbed his hand, setting it on your lap. You used your free hand to massage it, pressing into the flesh of his palm and rubbing it slowly, it was calloused from over years of drumming. ‘’This always helps me relax when I’m stressed out or mad at something or someone.’’
Lars groaned, closing his eyes and melting into the mattress. You pressed your lips together, the sound heating your body up from the inside out. ‘’Lars, um, that didn’t sound appropriate.’’ He smirked, ‘’says the one who called a hand massage a hand job.’’
‘’That was an accident,’’ you argued.
‘’And I didn’t mean to sound so explicit,’’ he replied. ‘’How about we call it even between us?’’
‘’Yes, please.’’ You then moved to his fingers, using your thumb and pointer to rub up and down each phalange. Your husband wandered through his memories and searched every nook and cranny for the last recent memory of feeling at ease like this. He couldn’t find one. He’d been on edge the whole time.
It was moments of support, love, and kindness that had him wondering what he did to deserve you.
‘’Thank you,’’ he muttered. ‘’For doing this for me.’’
Smiling, you said, ‘’you’re welcome, anything for you.’’
You continued your handiwork (pun intended) for a while longer, gently squeezing and rubbing the rough skin of his palm, fingers, and knuckles, occasionally humming a soft tune here and there.
When your own hand started cramping up and getting tired, you stopped, settling for just resting it over Lars’.
‘’How do you feel now, a bit more relaxed?’’
No response.
Confused, you looked down at him to see he was fast asleep, lightly snoring, his expression calm and content. Carefully, you took his arm and placed it by his side before crawling down to the end of the bed and grabbing a blanket that laid there. You unfolded it and brought it up to where Lars laid; tucking him in.
He was an adorable sight, the blanket was up to his neck, he looked like a butterfly with its head sticking out of its cocoon.
And all felt perfect, no stress, anger, or frustration, just the feeling of the soft mattress under you and the sound of Lars snoring. You leaned down and pressed a kiss to his cheek, then laid on your side, watching him until eventually, letting sleep take over you as well.