The Biggest Fan
The First Night.
I could hear footsteps at the end of the tour bus. It was Bert, closely followed by Dan.
“Sorry for the mess”, Bert apologized. “It’s just so fucking hectic being on tour like this. You get caught up sometimes, you kno´?”
“Yeah, sure. It’s okay. I don’t mind. At my place, I would call this cleaned up. But that’s just me.”
“Right on”, he said. “You want a cigarette?”
“Oh, no, thank you. I don’t smoke.”
“Ah, okay. You want anything else, then?”
“No, thank you. I'm fine.”
“How old are you anyway?”, Bert then asked with a grin on his face.
“18”, I responded, feeling like a 3-year-old.
“Ahh, the magic age.”
“What?”, I said slightly confused.
“Err, I just mean that you’re not a minor in this country anymore and that must be, like, magical, right?” That made me feel like a total idiot.
“Yeah, well, it’s okay I guess”, I said. “It’s just a bit stressful now that I’m 18 and an ‘adult’, so everyone expects more from you.”
“Fuck, yeah!”, Bert burst out. “I totally get you! That’s what I felt like when I turned 18 too.”
His enthusiasm in our conversation made me wanting to talk even more about my personal life.
By then, it felt like, to me, that Bert and I connected. We made a bond and clicked, and I almost thought he felt the same way.
After the tour bus had started moving, I also told Bert about my childhood, about my mom taking me across the street from where she and I lived to buy booze in 1,5 litre Coke bottles, about me being bullied and picked on at the age of only six with no friends or anyone to lean on.
There was no support, what so ever, even when my mom would get wasted before noon and getting violent, for then to start hitting me.
I cried during the whole conversation with Bert. It was only me and him, sitting in the black leather sofa group. The other guys had gone to bed.
While I made my confessions, there was total silence. I could only hear my own voice and Bert’s calm breath, occasionally blowing in my face. When I fell apart telling him about the psychical and mental abuse cause by my mom, he held his arms around me, telling me about his own childhood, not that unlike from mine. He told me about being kicked out of his own home when he was 16 after having sexual intercourse before marriage at the age of 15. Bert told me about his childhood, growing up in Orem, Utah, in a Mormon family.
It was a sin to have sexual relations outside marriage, he told me.
I was stunned. Bert was my hero, my idol, my role model. How could this wonderful person have such a lousy childhood and still be able to grow into being this fantastic great guy?
It blew me away. After we’d shared our childhood stories, that now didn’t seem so outstanding, we just sat there sitting in the sofa with our feet on the small, brown coffee table.
Bert was still holding his arms around me, but I had stopped crying. There were no more tears left.
We had been talking for hour. It was almost 5 am and we were yawning simultaneously.
“Bed time, maybe?”, he asked, later followed by my nod.
At the very end of the bus, there were these bunk beds; two on each side of the wall in two floors, making it four beds.
“It’s only four beds”, I said while rubbing my puffy red eyes.
“Yeah, I know. But you can sleep in my bed with me if you wanna?”
“Oh, okay”, I responded yawning.
At that point, I couldn’t stop thinking of it as just a friendly sleepover.
I took off my pants and socks, leaving me with only my under ware and my The Used tee on.
I climbed in to bed, closely followed by Bert wearing nothing but his black tee and under ware.
As I was lying on my back with the covers over me with Bed next to me, I stared up against what I think was Jepha’s mattress. Not surprising, since he was in the bed above mine and Bert’s.
I gazed outside the small window above us, noticing from the reflection of the window that Bert now was lying on his stomach, half asleep, with his face turned at me.
The covers weren’t covering his entire back, so when I leaned towards him, reaching at the covers to pull it over him, I accidentally brushed into his upper back with my fingers.
To my big surprise, he moaned, and I immediately pulled my hand back.
“I’m sorry”, I apologized whispering.
“No, keep going, it felt good. Do it again”, Bert mumbled patting his lips.
“You want me to cuddle your back?”, I asked.
“Oh, that’s what you call it?” He was now almost fully awake.
“No one’s ever done that to me”, he continued as I started stroking his back with my fingers, going up and down from his shoulders to his spine.
I felt his body shiver and I felt goose bumps all over his body.
He moaned again, now higher than he had done the first time, but this time he has a smile on his face as he closed his eyes.
As I kept stroking Bert’s back, I couldn’t stop thinking of me and my mom doing the same thing at late nights when I was younger, when she still had the capacity to show me some affection.
It was just the two of us. “Mom”, I though, feeling my stomach twist.
“Hey, Bert”, I whispered for then to stop stroking his back and sitting up in the bed. “What about my mom?”
The tone in my voice was nervous and I felt as if I was panicking.
“What about her? You can just call her in the mornin´”, he answered with a soothing voice, which made me lie down in the bed, automatically starting to stroke his back again.
Yet again, his moan was being heard as I kept stroking him, only this time I brushed my fingers along his side, feeling his ribs.
I swept my fingers along his body, feeling almost every body that pointed out, as he breathed heavy and loud.
He had fallen almost asleep. As I yawned for the last time that night, I feel asleep with my arm over Bert’s bare back, hearing nothing but the bus’ engine running.
I woke up; looking outside the window, noticing it was still dark. I hadn’t been asleep for a very long time.
I turned my head towards Bert who was only a couple of inches away from my face. He was also awake, staring at the ceiling.
“Hey, Bert”, I whispered, trying to meet his eyes in the dark.
“Yeah”, he responded, looking at me with his bright eyes.
“Thanks for, you know, the talk we had earlier today. It meant a lot.”
“… You are really something special, you know that? Like, I’ve never met someone just like you.”
His words made me speechless. I hadn’t in a million years expected him to say that, it made me feel warm inside. It was like his words gave me a great, big hug, so full of love and understanding.
I then leaned over and gave him a kiss on his right cheek
And from nowhere, he turned his head and his lips met mine.
His lips were soft, soft like a cool summer breeze brushing against my face.
For a second, I could feel Bert’s tongue making its way into my mouth, but at that point, something kept whispering the word ‘no’ inside my head.
Even though I’d been dreaming about this moment, picturing how it would be, it didn’t feel right. It didn’t feel right at all. My reaction to his kiss was my hand pushing him away, turning my face away from his, making an awkward expression for then to start whimpering.
“I-I’m sorry”, he stuttered with a voice so hurtful, it sounded like if someone had stabbed a knife in his lungs for then to slowly twist it around.
“I just-”, he continued for then to interrupt himself. “… Can I at least hold you?”
His words were so soft, like he really cared.
I nodded as an answer of saying yes, but even though I felt uncomfortable being that close to Bert and sharing that part of intimacy, I fell asleep in his arms that night.
“Sorry for the mess”, Bert apologized. “It’s just so fucking hectic being on tour like this. You get caught up sometimes, you kno´?”
“Yeah, sure. It’s okay. I don’t mind. At my place, I would call this cleaned up. But that’s just me.”
“Right on”, he said. “You want a cigarette?”
“Oh, no, thank you. I don’t smoke.”
“Ah, okay. You want anything else, then?”
“No, thank you. I'm fine.”
“How old are you anyway?”, Bert then asked with a grin on his face.
“18”, I responded, feeling like a 3-year-old.
“Ahh, the magic age.”
“What?”, I said slightly confused.
“Err, I just mean that you’re not a minor in this country anymore and that must be, like, magical, right?” That made me feel like a total idiot.
“Yeah, well, it’s okay I guess”, I said. “It’s just a bit stressful now that I’m 18 and an ‘adult’, so everyone expects more from you.”
“Fuck, yeah!”, Bert burst out. “I totally get you! That’s what I felt like when I turned 18 too.”
His enthusiasm in our conversation made me wanting to talk even more about my personal life.
By then, it felt like, to me, that Bert and I connected. We made a bond and clicked, and I almost thought he felt the same way.
After the tour bus had started moving, I also told Bert about my childhood, about my mom taking me across the street from where she and I lived to buy booze in 1,5 litre Coke bottles, about me being bullied and picked on at the age of only six with no friends or anyone to lean on.
There was no support, what so ever, even when my mom would get wasted before noon and getting violent, for then to start hitting me.
I cried during the whole conversation with Bert. It was only me and him, sitting in the black leather sofa group. The other guys had gone to bed.
While I made my confessions, there was total silence. I could only hear my own voice and Bert’s calm breath, occasionally blowing in my face. When I fell apart telling him about the psychical and mental abuse cause by my mom, he held his arms around me, telling me about his own childhood, not that unlike from mine. He told me about being kicked out of his own home when he was 16 after having sexual intercourse before marriage at the age of 15. Bert told me about his childhood, growing up in Orem, Utah, in a Mormon family.
It was a sin to have sexual relations outside marriage, he told me.
I was stunned. Bert was my hero, my idol, my role model. How could this wonderful person have such a lousy childhood and still be able to grow into being this fantastic great guy?
It blew me away. After we’d shared our childhood stories, that now didn’t seem so outstanding, we just sat there sitting in the sofa with our feet on the small, brown coffee table.
Bert was still holding his arms around me, but I had stopped crying. There were no more tears left.
We had been talking for hour. It was almost 5 am and we were yawning simultaneously.
“Bed time, maybe?”, he asked, later followed by my nod.
At the very end of the bus, there were these bunk beds; two on each side of the wall in two floors, making it four beds.
“It’s only four beds”, I said while rubbing my puffy red eyes.
“Yeah, I know. But you can sleep in my bed with me if you wanna?”
“Oh, okay”, I responded yawning.
At that point, I couldn’t stop thinking of it as just a friendly sleepover.
I took off my pants and socks, leaving me with only my under ware and my The Used tee on.
I climbed in to bed, closely followed by Bert wearing nothing but his black tee and under ware.
As I was lying on my back with the covers over me with Bed next to me, I stared up against what I think was Jepha’s mattress. Not surprising, since he was in the bed above mine and Bert’s.
I gazed outside the small window above us, noticing from the reflection of the window that Bert now was lying on his stomach, half asleep, with his face turned at me.
The covers weren’t covering his entire back, so when I leaned towards him, reaching at the covers to pull it over him, I accidentally brushed into his upper back with my fingers.
To my big surprise, he moaned, and I immediately pulled my hand back.
“I’m sorry”, I apologized whispering.
“No, keep going, it felt good. Do it again”, Bert mumbled patting his lips.
“You want me to cuddle your back?”, I asked.
“Oh, that’s what you call it?” He was now almost fully awake.
“No one’s ever done that to me”, he continued as I started stroking his back with my fingers, going up and down from his shoulders to his spine.
I felt his body shiver and I felt goose bumps all over his body.
He moaned again, now higher than he had done the first time, but this time he has a smile on his face as he closed his eyes.
As I kept stroking Bert’s back, I couldn’t stop thinking of me and my mom doing the same thing at late nights when I was younger, when she still had the capacity to show me some affection.
It was just the two of us. “Mom”, I though, feeling my stomach twist.
“Hey, Bert”, I whispered for then to stop stroking his back and sitting up in the bed. “What about my mom?”
The tone in my voice was nervous and I felt as if I was panicking.
“What about her? You can just call her in the mornin´”, he answered with a soothing voice, which made me lie down in the bed, automatically starting to stroke his back again.
Yet again, his moan was being heard as I kept stroking him, only this time I brushed my fingers along his side, feeling his ribs.
I swept my fingers along his body, feeling almost every body that pointed out, as he breathed heavy and loud.
He had fallen almost asleep. As I yawned for the last time that night, I feel asleep with my arm over Bert’s bare back, hearing nothing but the bus’ engine running.
I woke up; looking outside the window, noticing it was still dark. I hadn’t been asleep for a very long time.
I turned my head towards Bert who was only a couple of inches away from my face. He was also awake, staring at the ceiling.
“Hey, Bert”, I whispered, trying to meet his eyes in the dark.
“Yeah”, he responded, looking at me with his bright eyes.
“Thanks for, you know, the talk we had earlier today. It meant a lot.”
“… You are really something special, you know that? Like, I’ve never met someone just like you.”
His words made me speechless. I hadn’t in a million years expected him to say that, it made me feel warm inside. It was like his words gave me a great, big hug, so full of love and understanding.
I then leaned over and gave him a kiss on his right cheek
And from nowhere, he turned his head and his lips met mine.
His lips were soft, soft like a cool summer breeze brushing against my face.
For a second, I could feel Bert’s tongue making its way into my mouth, but at that point, something kept whispering the word ‘no’ inside my head.
Even though I’d been dreaming about this moment, picturing how it would be, it didn’t feel right. It didn’t feel right at all. My reaction to his kiss was my hand pushing him away, turning my face away from his, making an awkward expression for then to start whimpering.
“I-I’m sorry”, he stuttered with a voice so hurtful, it sounded like if someone had stabbed a knife in his lungs for then to slowly twist it around.
“I just-”, he continued for then to interrupt himself. “… Can I at least hold you?”
His words were so soft, like he really cared.
I nodded as an answer of saying yes, but even though I felt uncomfortable being that close to Bert and sharing that part of intimacy, I fell asleep in his arms that night.
♠ ♠ ♠
well, there you have it; a long update! : Dhaha, i hope i didn't kill you with boredom as you read this.
and remember; tell me what you think of it. :]]]