How to Love

Pitter patter pitter patter pitter patter.

Brian lay on his bed, listening to the rain tapping against his bedroom window. A small smile sat on his face, his eyes closed; he absolutely adored rain. Ever since he was a child, he could remember getting excited whenever it rained, it meant that he could run about in it and splash in puddles. To him, rain meant new life, new feelings, cleansing. It meant that all bad feelings and thoughts were washed away, and made room for happy and joyful memories.

He was suddenly shaken from his thoughts as soft, melodic sounds drifted through his ears. He opened his eyes slowly, glancing at his bedroom door which was slightly ajar. He smiled fondly and sat up, stretching, getting all of the knots out of his joints and muscles. He rose from the bed and walked over to his door lightly, opening it gently, trying not to make any noise. He slowly padded over to his roommate’s open door, leaning against the door frame with a loving smile etched on his face.

Zack sat in the middle of his bedroom with his legs crossed, his guitar resting on his thighs; his fingers swiftly moving over the strings; gentle, soft sounds emitting from it. He hummed softly as he played a familiar tune, a tune that both men had grown accustomed to playing over the last 10 or-so years. His eyes were closed, Brian noticed, his smile growing bigger.

Getting lost in the music was something Zack did best. He could slip on a pair of earphones, close his eyes and the rest of the world would just melt away. Nothing mattered to him anymore when he was lost in reverie; his dog could get ran over, he could break one of his favourite guitars; but as soon as he heard the music, all was gone. It was just him, and the music.

An escape. A dream world to get lost forever in. To get lost and never come back…

It didn’t always used to be like this. There was once upon a time when Zack didn’t really care about the music. Yeah, sure, he was in a famous rock band; he played guitar for God’s sake. But music didn’t really bring him any comfort. It just made him rich and famous. Girls (and boys) were throwing themselves at him from every direction; who cares about the music when you can get easy tail every night? But of course, all things must end.

And along came Jake.



Jake was what you would call a ‘dreamboat’. Tall, tanned, bright blue eyes, a body to die for. Of course, Zack had been instantly attracted to him. There was something about this guy, there was something different about him. Something different than all the faceless, nameless people he had screwed around with over the past couple of years.

He had met him after a show in Pennsylvania in 2006. The blue-eyed man had come right up to him and asked him did he have a spare cigarette. Zack was about to throw one in his general direction, not even going to spare the other a glance, but he had decided to look up and when he did, it damn near took his breath away. Jake had stood there with a soft smile on his face, his sapphire blue eyes twinkling like the night sky. Zack had stared for a second, before reaching inside his pack of Marlboro Red and handing one over to the beautiful stranger. Jake had thanked him, and began to start up a conversation. Zack had found himself enjoying their chat, and when Jake asked for his cell number, he had given it to him without hesitation.

Brown eyes had lingered on Jake’s form from the door of the tour bus as he retreated back to where he had come from, before darting back to Zack as he hurried over excitedly to gush all about his new ‘friend’. Brown eyes had just smiled and took it in stride.

Over the next couple of months, Zack and Jake had grown close. You could even go as far and say as close as he was with the guys, which was saying something. One night, Jake had invited him out for a couple of drinks and Zack, being in the inebriated state that he was by the end of the night, had dragged him back to the tour bus (as he knew that the other guys would be out all night) and consummated their relationship. Brown eyes had been there too, sadness and regret pouring from them, heart shattering into a million pieces as they lay in their bunk and listened to Zack shout out obscenities in the throes of passion. Zack must have not realised they were even there, too drunk, selfish and ignorant to notice anything other than the bubble he had cocooned himself and Jake in since the day he had met him.

And brown eyes didn’t even know it was possible for one person to be able to cry so much.

After that, Zack and Jake were inseparable. And in the end, Zack had ended up inviting him on tour with them. They went everywhere together, virtually joined at the hip. Brown eyes kept a close eye on them, eyes like a hawk, trained on Jake’s form whenever they were in sight. Then they had started to notice that after the proverbial honey moon period was over, Jake began to change. And as they say, all good things must come to an end.

First it started out with little things; Jake bossing Zack around, telling him what to do. Controlling him. Then it was the name calling. Pussy. Faggot. Bitch. Fat. Ugly. Worthless. After that, there was more than one occasion of Zack coming back to the bus (or hotel, if they were lucky enough) with bruises and black eyes. But, Zack would never tell. He would never talk about it.

Hush hush. You have to keep it all hush hush.

Zack endured it for years. Years of physical and emotional abuse from his wonderful loving boyfriend.

I love him. I love him. I love him. Like a mantra.

Brown eyes seen it. They had seen it all. They knew Zack was dead on the inside, and it killed them every single second of every single day because they knew that they couldn’t do a damn thing about it. Zack would deny it. He would always deny it. If he came back with a new bruise (angry, purple and black), he would say that he fell over. Got into a fight with some jerk in a bar. Got a little too drunk and passed out. And the funny thing was, brown eyes was dead too. They had been dead for years. Maybe even for longer than Zack had been.

The final straw was when Zack limped through the tour bus door one evening. Brown eyes had raced over to him as fast as they could, putting their arms around Zack’s weak form and helping him sit down. Zack wouldn’t say a word about what happened, but everyone knew. They had suspected from the start. Don’t bullshit bullshitters.

Hush hush. Keep it all hush hush.

A trip to the hospital.

Three broken ribs.

Brian had never punched anyone so hard in his life.

A broken nose.

Broken knuckles.

Hush hush…



Zack continued strumming his guitar, mumbling about beasts and harlots, and a little piece of heaven, still not noticing that Brian was standing in his doorway watching him; and had been watching him for the good part of an hour now.

Still escaping, even after all this time. Still scared. Still wakes up in fear, sweat pouring, nightmares still fresh in his mind.

But, he was getting better. Thanks to Brian.

He had been the one to pick up the pieces. The one who had held him after a nightmare, the one who had cleaned him up when he got too wrecked to stay conscious, the one who had made sure he was still eating, the one who had just been there for him. And somewhere down the line, Zack began to realise something. He didn’t know what, exactly. But he knew there was something there.

Brian cleared his throat sharply, keeping his eyes on Zack. Still having them trained on him after all the years of having to learn to look after him. Even if he wasn’t actually doing anything about it. Just keeping the information stored in his brain. For the next time he sees Jake.

He’s dead.

Zack’s head shot up and Brian could have laughed with how startled his green eyed friend looked at that moment.

“How long have you been standing there?” Zack asked quietly.

“About an hour. I was just listening to you play.” Brian smiled.

Zack gave a half-smile and looked down, playing with his fingers. Brian reached over and took his guitar from him, setting it on his own legs and strumming. Laughing at how bad it sounded, realising that he couldn’t play left-handed guitar. Zack smiled and let out a small sigh. Brian chuckled and rested the guitar on the floor next to him.

He stared at Zack for a long moment; trying to read his thoughts; trying to see what he was thinking. He took in Zack’s features. He still looked defeated. Still looked dead inside. He had lost a lot of weight, and it worried him. Zack didn’t suit being virtually stick-thin. Brian frowned and suppressed the urge to wrap his arms around his friend and tell him it was all going to be okay.

He scooted over to Zack so that he was sitting immediately in front of him, taking his hands in his own and looking at them. Zack twitched and jerked his hands away from Brian, looking at him with a scared look in his eyes.

“Zack, please, let me-”

“No. I’m disgusting. Don’t touch me.”

Brian gaped and looked at the raven-haired man with an incredulous expression on his face.

Disgusting?

“You are not disgusting, Zack.”

“Oh? Then what am I? I’m fat, ugly and disgusting. Nobody’s going to ever want me.” Zack said shakily, tears pricking the corners of his eyes.

Brian, whose head had drooped at this point, raised his and looked Zack straight in the eye.

“I want you. And I think you’re beautiful… and I have for 11 years, Zack. I love you.”

Zack gasped and looked away. He then turned back and scanned Brian’s face for any hint of a lie, any hint that Brian was just playing with him. He got none.

Brian reached over again and took Zack’s hands in his own, brushing his thumbs over his fingers. Zack let him play with his hands for a while, closing his eyes and sighing inwardly at the soft touch of Brian’s calloused skin. He listened to the rain, thunder being introduced into the mix at random intervals. And when he finally opened his eyes, he found chocolate ones staring right back at him.

They looked at each other for what felt like hours but was instead only seconds, until, as if they had spoken a mutual agreement with their eyes, both of their eyes slipped closed and they were drawn together as if some magnetic force was pulling them towards each other. And when their lips finally touched, it was gentle. Soft. It was a kiss of need, but not lust. A kiss of longing for someone to love, and to hold on to. A kiss meaning that they weren’t alone. They needed it. Like fish needed water to live and breathe. It was a simple kiss. No one tried to deepen it, they just let their lips press against each other’s softly. Zack noticed that Brian had begun to caress his hand, stroking it gently, and he smiled into it, in turn making Brian smile.

When they finally pulled apart, they just looked at each other. Zack looking at Brian, trying to find some hint to find out if what they had just done was an accident, or if he really meant it. And Brian looking at Zack, with such a great deal of adoration in his eyes only a man who was in love could do it.

11 years. Finally.

“Brian, I-” Zack began, but before he could say what he wanted to, Brian shushed him and put and put a finger over his mouth.

He brushed a piece of Zack’s hair away from his face and smiled tenderly.

“Not now, love.” He said, before leaning forward and pressing his lips to Zack’s once more.

Emerald eyes disappeared behind eyelids; skinny arms snaking around Brian’s neck as he pulled him closer. And when they pulled away, Zack laughed, for the first time in months.

And brown eyes just smiled.