Star Crossed

By the time Johnny woke up the next morning, I was done.

I hadn't slept and it showed. Despite this, I was in relatively good spirits. Finishing the song had surprisingly made me feel like I was getting more of my secret off of my chest. The fact that I thought the lyrics had turned out somewhat decently also contributed to my good mood. I handed the verses to Johnny before heading to the kitchen to start making breakfast.

It took a few minutes, but Johnny eventually joined me. The paper containing my lyrics was set down on the counter between us. I glanced at him briefly before returning my attention to my cooking.

"Well?"

"Dude," he began. "This. Is. Amazing. You have to record this!"

I chuckled, offering him a plate off food that he took at once. I sat across from him with my own plate, looking the lyrics over for what felt like the hundredth time that hour. I was pleased with them, yes, and both Johnny and I knew all the notes that needed to be played to make it happen. But now that I was faced with the very real chance of recording it, I wasn't so sure how I felt about it. Recording it would mean people hearing it. And people hearing it would mean people figuring out what it all meant.

Brian would know exactly what to do in this situation. He always knew what to do when I was stuck on something. Unfortunately, asking him for help here wasn't an option - both because he was still unconscious in the hospital and because the problem revolved mostly around him. I sighed lightly, taking another mouthful of food. Why did things have to be so complicated?

I looked across at Johnny, remembering a time not so long ago when it had been Brian sitting across from me. Brian, with his killer headache the morning after he'd caught his girlfriend cheating. It seemed so long ago now. It was almost like a dream.

How did things end up like this?

Johnny finished before me. Knowing that I liked my house clean, he obediently carried his plate and cutlery to the sink and rinsed them off. He'd come a long way since we'd first met, when he would leave mess around without a care in the world. Constantly being slapped around by the rest of us had clearly taught him a few things.

"I'll call Matt and Jimmy," he suggested. "Get them to come around and help us record a demo. What'd'ya say?"

I finished off my own breakfast and made as he had, rinsing both the plate and cutlery set in the sink. I didn't need to think over what he was suggesting.

"Do you think they'll freak?"

I was thankful that he didn't need to ask about what I was referring to. We'd all been making music together long enough for him to know that this wasn't what I meant. A light frown crossed his lips, making my heart sink ever so slightly. That definitely couldn't have been a good sign.

"I honestly don't know," he admitted. "They might. Or they might not. There's no real way to tell until you do it."

I didn't like the sound of it, but I knew he was right. I also knew that they were going to find out eventually - and it would be better coming from me rather than somebody else.

"Alright. Tell 'em to come 'round."

He pulled out his phone and dialled one of the pair. I grabbed my lyrics and returned to my home studio, already feeling anxious about what was to come. These guys were more than just my friends - they were my brothers. What was I supposed to do if they didn't approve of this? If the thought of it disgusted them? No, they weren't homophobic, but this was close to home. Perhaps a little too close.

When Johnny returned, we hooked everything up and started recording. I laid down my rhythm first, trying my best to keep time without Jimmy's drums for guidance. I thought it turned out fairly good for a first try, but not good enough for me to be satisfied with. I was recording Johnny playing his bass lines when the other two arrived. They slipped into the room in silence and sat back while we finished up.

"What's this?" Jimmy asked when we finally turned to them. "You been workin' on stuff in secret?"

"Not in secret," I replied. "We just...wrote it. Last night."

"Show them," Johnny said, nodding towards the papers.

It was now or never. With a sigh, I picked up the papers and handed them over before I could get the chance to take them and run. Or burn them. Once they were in Matt's hands, I knew they were safe. I kicked back in my wheely chair and watched as he and Jimmy read through the words, the latter looking over the former's shoulder.

I fiddled with my guitar, unwilling to watch them as they read. Every now and then I glanced at Johnny in an attempt to read their reactions from his. Unfortunately, the little shit was keeping his expression neutral. I wanted to hit him for it.

"Alright," Jimmy said at long last. "Time to play some fucking drums!"

I looked back over at him, watching in surprise as he did nothing more than grab a pair of drumsticks and bounce over to the electric kit in the corner. I glanced at Johnny, who simply shrugged and set to showing Jimmy the tunes that we'd already laid out. To my relief (or perhaps despair), Matt had other ideas. He beckoned for me to follow him before leaving the room once again. I followed without delay.

We ended up in my living room, sitting across from each other. Matt still held the lyrics in his hands, and there was no denying that his eyes kept flicking back to them. I kept my mouth shut as he read, wondering what conclusions he was drawing. Eventually he sighed and spoke.

"This is about Brian."

It wasn't a question. Hesitantly, I nodded.

"Why didn't you say something, man? When did this even happen? ...have you been leading Gena on all this time?"

"I wasn't leading her on," I assured him quickly. "I really enjoyed her company. And I really tried with her for a while, but...I dunno, it's just not something that I can change. I've felt like this since the day I met him. And I never said anything because...I dunno. It was just never the right time."

"Does he know?"

"No. But before you say anything, I do plan on telling him. As soon as he wakes up."

Matt fell silent, occupying himself by looking over the lyrics yet again.

"It's a good song," he admitted after a while. "A really good song. I think the fans will love it. So, how 'bout we go get to work on it, huh?"

The abrupt change in subject surprised me, but I agreed nonetheless. If Matt's way of dealling with this was to pretend like it wasn't happening, that was fine by me. As long as he wasn't hitting me, he could do as he pleased.