A/N: okay, this is where I warn you all about the content of my evil, corruptive story. Hehe.

Screw it, you can figure it out for yourselves. If you're truly curious, then read my warning on the homepage.

NO FLAMES PLEASE

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GLITTER DAYS

Part I

I had been driving for ages it seemed. The landscape was the most tiresome thing I’d seen in my life; miles and miles of nothing, offset by dust and the rare shrub. I was about ready to tear my hair out from boredom. Needless to say, I was beginning to regret taking my cousins’ advice to look for this guy. Nothing was worth this, not for the best singer in the world! I was starting to think they were punishing me for bothering them about the band. I mean, who in their right mind would live out here? But they had said that if I was serious about this band thing, then I wouldn’t throw away the chance to get someone as good as this person, whoever they were…

            When I finally saw the “house”… well, I wasn’t expecting a worn old factory building with giant metal signs all over the sides. I was kinda hoping that after going through all the trouble to get out here, that there’d at least be a mansion… But the address matched, where it was written clearly over a doorway to the side of a huge metal garage door. I was starting to get nervous, because now that I was actually thinking about it, I didn’t have a very concrete reason for being here, and I didn’t even know this guy. My cousins can be very cryptic at times. But when they said that they had this friend who could sing better than I could play, it was a matter of pride; male egos and all that.

            I was just about finished convincing myself to get out of the car, when a young man opened the door and waved, a smirk obvious even from the distance I was from him. He had longish black hair and tanned skin. I couldn’t see his eyes, but I had a feeling that they’d be a brown shade, maybe with hints of green. He said something, but I didn’t really hear him. His voice was the quiet sort, the kind you can hear crystal clear when you’re right next to them, but that gets easily carried away on the slightest breeze. After all, I was here for someone’s voice, and I really didn’t think it was his. He just didn’t seem the type. He came closer and repeated what he’d said, amusement in his words. He may not have a great voice, but it was sure expressive… “Were you planning on sitting there for the rest of the day or were you actually going to get out and knock?”

            Sheepishly I got out of my car and apologized.

            He shrugged fluidly, “What are you doing way out here? You get lost or something?”

            “No.” But by this point I wasn’t too sure about that anymore. This kid wasn’t who I was looking for, was he? “I’m looking for Devin. My cousins said that I could find him here.”

            “Oh! You want to talk to Devin? He’s in the shop. I’ll take you to him. Your cousins? You must mean Kurt and Brian, right? The twins? Devin calls them Sun and Shadow.” he smiled at me.

            I laughed. I had long ago nicknamed them that. They found it most annoying. I had once threatened to write a song about it. Everything seemed to tie back to music for me, didn’t it? I was on a perpetual talent search, and I’d been perfecting my guitar skills since I was six. Strange, isn’t it, how sometimes we just know what we want to do when we grow up? Not that I’d ever really thought I’d go through with it. I mean, from the time I was ten, I’d had people telling me that I was going to be a rock-star. I don’t know why they thought that. But people would listen to me play, and they’d just automatically go into simpering mode. It was annoying.

            All through school, the desire to be something, even if I was the something in the background whose name people didn’t really know about, never went away. Nor did my draw to music. The occasional garage band had never satisfied me, and now, just maybe, I had this chance to meet someone good enough to make my dream come true. My cousins played bass and percussion. And they were pretty decent at it, if not as dedicated as I was.      I wanted to find out for myself whether this kid was what I’d been waiting for. I say kid like I’m older or something, but really, I’m just a college escapee. My parents had tried to pack me off to some dreary school in California. It hadn’t gone according to plan. That is, it hadn’t gone according to their plan. So what if I’d barely grazed by high school and gotten entirely kicked out of college, I wasn’t planning on needing anything they had to teach me.

            “So,” I said, trying to make conversation with the black haired boy. “What’s your name? Mine’s Keith. Keith Norvak.”

            “My name’s Page.” He offered me. “Why did you come all the way out here to talk to Devin?” he sounded protective, and a little suspicious of my motives. I didn’t blame him. The twins were notorious for having bad ideas and setting people up. I tried to be reassuring.

            “Nothing criminal, I swear.”

            “With those two at work, I somehow doubt it.” he said wryly, echoing my thoughts. But at least it had gotten a grin, even though he was still glaring at me a little.

            “So, how come you live all the way out here? Are you Devin’s brother or something?” I wasn’t really sure why two people would live way out in the middle of nowhere.

            “We like it out here. I work with Devin. He gets a chance to be alone. He hated growing up in the city, and it’s quieter out here.” That didn’t bode well for the lead singer of a rock band… And Page was giving me the evil eye again, as though he thought I was going to take Devin away from him or something. Which, technically, was my goal.

            All the while we had been walking through a disused looking corridor that seemed to stretch on forever. There were doors all over the place, but I decided to leave prying until later. Pretty soon I started hearing music. Loud music. My ears perked up. Looking better already…

            Of course Gloomy over there was starting to look like the least of my problems. I was already worried about what I would say. How would I convince an essentially shy person to leave this place and join a band with people he’d never really met? It sounded completely retarded. And, in my mind, that was its slim chance for success. 

            Page knocked on a door to my right, the music pulsing around me. Heavy metal and great guitar playing was all I could hear. Suddenly it all shut off, and a tawny-haired kid, about 18 or so, stuck his head around the door. He grinned a little sheepishly at us and came the rest of the way out into the hall.

            “Hi.” I heard myself say. “I’m Keith Norvak. You must be Devin.”

            “Yep.” he smiled, and brushed hair that was too long out of his face. It made him look much younger, that one gesture. I was surprised by what I saw. He looked more like the type you’d find bent over books in that dreary college, not here, singing along to his rock music in an old factory. I stuck out my hand and was slightly relieved when he took it firmly and shook.

            Page looked like he’d swallowed something sour, and I wondered once more what his problem was. It wasn’t like I was kidnapping Devin or anything. “I guess I’ll leave you two to talk. If you need me, I’ll be in the shop Devin.” he nodded at me and smiled, his features softening into something almost handsome, as he looked at Devin. I decided to figure it out later. Now I was interested in the focus of that attention, not the person who was walking briskly in the opposite direction.

            “Don’t mind him.” said Devin, frowning after his friend. He looked rather perplexed about the whole situation. Shrugging a little in frustration he turned back to me. “I guess we don’t get too many strangers out here. He likes it that way. I enjoy people though. It can get so boring living in this place. We run a metal shop, but I only do the paperwork and some of the touch-up. Page’s an artist.” He informed me. “And he says he’d rather listen to me sing anyways. He thinks that inhaling metal dust is bad for my voice. I think he worries too much, but that’s life.”

            I was surprised in spite of myself. I hadn’t expected him to be very talkative. Devin held open his bedroom door; at least I had assumed it was his bedroom. And indeed, there was a gigantic bed, but the room was huge, with a sweeping metal architecture I hadn’t expected. There was wrought-iron stuff everywhere; statues and stands and furniture and decorations. The effect was stunning. I caught him laughing at me a bit as I gaped. “It’s all Page’s stuff. Pretty neat, huh?” ‘Pretty neat’ was right. The bedroom was friggin’ amazing!

            “Holy shit.” was all I managed though. He snickered. “I bet his room must be even more amazing than this, if it’s possible.” I said. I was trying my best to be gracious, and besides, I like artists like Page. I was used to the attitude when it came from their type. Devin gave me a very strange look, and didn’t say anything. I was still gaping at the high, blue stained-glass windows stretching between the wrought-iron frames. It made a beautiful collage on the ceiling, and cast a bluish sheen on the floor, so it looked like the place was underwater. I could never in all my life hope to live in a place as magnificent as this, and I knew it.

            He called me back abruptly though. “So, you had something to talk about. Sun and Shadow mentioned a band.” he said it flatly, and I winced a little, hearing very little welcome in his voice.

            “I… yes, that is what I came to talk about.” I agreed amiably, a little off balance.

            He sighed. “Why can I never just get a nice visit from someone who doesn’t want something from me?” he asked no one in particular. I looked at him sharply. What the hell was that supposed to mean?

            “I… the twins said that you had the most amazing voice they’d ever heard, and that if I wasn’t a bloody idiot I’d come and talk to you.” they had said other things too, but I hadn’t understood most of it. My mind had been too busy thinking of what would happen if I could get someone good to sing with me. It wasn’t that I had a bad voice, it was just that I had the wrong kind of voice for what I wanted to do.

            “They mentioned you a couple times before. They said you were amazing with a guitar, even though you’ve only been playing for a couple years. A natural.” he looked me over critically. For some reason I wanted to blush, but managed to fend off the rising heat on my cheeks.

            “I’m pretty good.” I agreed offhandedly.

            “Well, what if I said I’ll sing for you, so you can see if you like what you hear, if you’ll play your guitar to my singing without hearing any of it first. Just improvise. If you’re as good as your cousins seem to think, then you shouldn’t have too much of a problem.” It was a dare, a challenge, and I was only too ready to except. I had never done something like that before, but I thought that I could, if his voice was right, I might even be able to stick some of the stuff I’d composed into his song, whatever the hell it was. I was surprised that this shy-looking kid had managed to turn the situation around so easily. I mentally shook my fist at the twins. They had probably made a big deal out of how desperate I was. And they were right too. I wanted this more than anything else. And I was willing to do a lot of things to make it happen. Including making a fool of myself.

            But even with that resolve, I was still completely blown away when he opened his mouth. I mean, I’d heard girls who couldn’t go that high. He sounded brilliant, and far more confident than he did when he was speaking. After a second of listening to his voice swelling around me, I got my mind under control, and starting matching his lyrics a little to a piece I’d written a couple years ago. It was hard for me to concentrate with his singing inside my head, and after a moment I realized that I really didn’t need to concentrate on anything except the melody, until I was the melody, was the guitar in my hands and the angelic voice in my head. I hoped it wasn’t like this every time he sang. I mean, a guy could really lose himself in sounds like that. He didn’t sound anything like all the manufactured noise that come out of the radio now-a-days, he sounded perfect, and I could just see him up on stage, holding audiences completely captive as we played. I could picture him singing my rock songs, and then going right into some of the ballads I’d written too. And what he was now was just… something beyond all those titles, something amazing and new, and completely unlike I’d been expecting. I was surprised to hear it spiral off into harsher, rougher singing, but still amazing, then back again into the swelling, beautiful melody. Suddenly the voice was haunting, taking me somewhere else, making chills go through my body.

            It was all there. I had to have him. He was the only thing I’d settle for. I hadn’t realized it, but I’d been playing the entire time, sometimes even on my own, mindlessly, just following his lead and occasionally taking it myself, directing him places. He came to a winding end, and stared at me. I felt slightly bereft at the loss of his singing, and I stopped playing too, just staring at him, because if I said anything, I was afraid I’d ruin the moment. And if I ruined this moment I’d have to kill myself for it. I needed him to be in my band. Needed him more than I needed a band almost. It was the strangest thing I’d ever felt, sort of like a hole had been filled and mended. I didn’t know what I could say that wouldn’t sound stupid or underscore the overwhelming feeling of rightness.

            Finally he spoke, looking a little uneasy, “If you didn’t like it, I understand, it wasn’t really what you’re into, but I can sing rock too. I just didn’t want to start out that way.”

            “You were amazing… I… I don’t know how to tell you how amazing, because it was bloody well the most amazing thing I’ve ever heard. I wish I could play half as well as you sing.” I confessed, feeling wretched beside his perfection.

            Devin broke into the most genuine of smiles I’d seen yet. He looked like an angel suddenly, and I couldn’t even begin to guess how he’d achieved this level of otherworldliness. He was making me feel so many things at once, not the least of which was confusion, about several things. I didn’t understand why whatever power controlled my life would dangle such an enticing treat over my head like this. I didn’t really think that Devin would want anything to do with me and my second-rate band. We simply didn’t deserve something like him. “You do.” he said firmly, breaking into my thoughts.

            “Hmm?” I asked, caught off guard.

            “You are as good as me, at least. Nobody else could keep up with that melody. Believe me, plenty of people have tried. I made it even harder for you, and you weren’t even trying to make it sound the same, it just flowed, like water. It sounded complete for the first time since I wrote that thing. It felt…” he paused, obviously searching for a word, “It just felt right.” an unconscious echo of my own thoughts.

            Was I really any good, or was he purposefully downplaying himself? Artists had a tendency to do that. Usually it was just so they could get more praise and reassurances, but he sounded so wistful, almost like I felt. Like something long lost had been discovered and someone cruel was dangling it in front of his face.

            I laughed uneasily, I hated praise, I mean, I preened under it, but I hated it, especially from someone who was better than me. I felt like I was being patronized by someone younger, and it was annoying. I was determined to get the situation back in my control. I wrote something out on a piece of paper, my phone number, I hoped, and handed it to him.

            “If you want to go somewhere with that voice, you need a band. And we’re determined to go somewhere. You’re welcome to come if you need a relief from this place. Practices are every Monday at noon, and every Friday at seven. The twins will be there too. They aren’t the most wonderful players, but I think all they need is some enthusiasm. They still think this is just some crazy dream I keep having, no matter that I’ve never been more serious in my life.” It was the longest speech I’d made in quite a while. At home I didn’t talk much. People thought I was a little crazy, but I still had girls dropping right and left to get a chance at me. Funny how they always go for what they can’t have, isn’t it?

            Not that I hadn’t tried that a couple times, but it always ended badly. And it was usually my fault. I had never been good on a personal level. But I couldn’t afford to let this end badly, I mean, it was far more important than a rendezvous with some tittering anorexic high school slut, this was my band, my life, my whole reason for existing up until this point. And I had this one chance to make it work. But he looked pretty determined too. He just had this weird aura, and it unsettled me. He hadn’t poked fun at my dreams or hopes, not once, and I just kept expecting him to step back and actually view the whole thing, at which point of course, he would then realize that I was a crazy dreamer, and go find something less destructive to do with himself. Like welding iron for his stoner friend. Not that I actually thought that Page was a stoner, he looked about as goody-good as you could get with long hair and eyeliner.

            Wait a minute, backtrack; had he really been wearing eyeliner? My mind flashed ahead, putting things together too quickly for me to comprehend. And suddenly I knew, with a strange sinking feeling in my stomach, the reason Page lived here, all alone, except for Devin, his boyfriend. My overenthusiastic mind readily filled in the blank. That was what the strange look was for, the huge bed, (I was blushing furiously by that particular enlightenment) and the sidelong fearful looks when Page had stormed off. In a jealous rage… or maybe not, it wasn’t like I was any kind of threat. At least, I sure hoped I wasn’t any kind of threat.

            Okay, I really needed to get out of here. One little thought and I was questioning my sexuality. What was wrong with this kid anyways?

            I tried to look at it objectively. Devin wasn’t gorgeous or anything. He probably would have had girls following him around begging him to go out with them though. And he did have that cute smile, and the dimple on one side of his mouth. It was the only asymmetry on his whole face. His lips were full and curved upwards all the time, his eyes were an amazing stormy green, and his eyelashes just barely grazed his cheek when he closed his eyes. His hair was long and far too soft, falling just like a girl’s down to the middle of his back. It made him look younger and far more innocent than he really was. I was peculiarly jealous of Page. It wasn’t fair that that bastard should get the lead singer of my band. That every time after practice Devin would go home and have someone waiting for him who was more important. And I realized that I wanted to be important to him too. I didn’t really understand it then, but I came to understand it better than the backs of my own eyelids, mixing in with bitter tears I could only shed away from the angel I wept them for. But that wasn’t to say that it didn’t hurt then too. I knew that the moment Devin assumed place of the lead singer, the band would cease to be mine. It would become his, and then I would be stuck second-rate and alone. Life was never fair was it? I hated him just for a second, for giving me everything I wanted, for being perfect, and then taking it away.

            His soft laughter and a dazzling smile broke into my thoughts. “I hope I can make it to the practice then. I wanted to see the twins soon anyways. I don’ know how you stand being around them all the time. I think they would get on my nerves. I can only handle so many “well-meaning” pranks.”

            “That makes two of us.” I agreed emphatically, thinking regretfully that this whole thing was probably just a set-up made to piss me off. Technically it was working too. I hoped it was just my pessimism getting the better of me. I tended to think the worst of people all the time. I didn’t want to believe that they would rope both of us into this. Maybe for once they were just doing something kind for me. Maybe they’d even caught on to how important music was to me, and they were trying to make up for all their teasing with this greatest of all presents. Of course, I knew instantly that that wasn’t the case. The twins never did anything entirely for someone else. They usually did it for their own amusement. Which would have probably been considerable with this scenario. I wanted to strangle them, and I mentally vowed to have a friendly chat with my cousins when I got back.

            Devin carefully eyed me, then decided I was safe and said warmly, “I hope I see you soon. I’ll have to talk to Page about it, and we’ll see. I don’t know why he’d object though, he’s been wanting me to do something useful with my voice other than annoy him with it at every opportunity.”

            I was momentarily outraged. Page was a bloody idiot if he thought Devin’s singing was annoying. I could listen to him sing forever and probably never get bored of his voice. And I thought that it was weird that Devin would be so obviously submissive to Page. I mean the other was older, but as far as intelligence went, I thought that Devin would win hands down. Page seemed like the kind of kid who only grazed through high school while working furiously on the side to prove his worth as an artist. That was obviously where his skills lie anyways. I wondered briefly why Devin wasn’t in some sort of college, I mean, he could have easily gotten in on his voice. Colleges sucked people like him in the mouth and then blew them out the ass when they were done with them. It was one of the reasons I’d never tried getting into college on a music scholarship. I was glad Devin hadn’t either. Now I had a shot at something worthwhile, if the twins hadn’t royally screwed things up, again.

            I wasn’t counting on it though. They usually made a life out of messing mine up. Not that there had been anything to mess with before now. Now there was Devin, and the slim chance of doing something with myself. I thought I would die if things didn’t work out just this once. I had tried so hard, and then, wouldn’t you know, the moment I lay back and relax, things just fall into my lap. That mental image conjured a rather unwelcome one of Devin falling into my lap, which I ruthlessly shoved down. I didn’t need to be thinking that right now. I thought of stabbing the twins to death with some sort of dull, rusty object instead.

            “Well, I hope this is what he meant. I guess we’ll see when you come. Catch you on Monday. You know where the twins live, right?”

            “Not really. I never really paid much attention when they told me. I know they live in the city.” he said doubtfully.

            I grinned, and tried to convince myself that it wasn’t because I was relieved. I could have the practice at my place now. And I wouldn’t have to feel guilty about putting him in an environment where he wasn’t comfortable. Go me.

            “Then I’ll give you instructions to my place tomorrow. I’ll call you. I have the phone number, but I wanted to talk to you about it before I asked. That’s why I came all the way out here to the middle of nowhere. You have no idea how much this means to me, to finally have something worthwhile. To have a band.” I think I was probably glowing by this point, and I was getting all sappy and sentimental, like I always did when I talked about my band.

            Devin gave me another handshake and then walked with me out to my car, humming something under his breath. It made me want to lean in and try to pick up the noise, but I didn’t dare. Instead I kept a firm, snobby distance from him and waved enthusiastically as I pulled out of the parking lot. I had done it! I was really going to be doing what I’d wanted to do since I could walk. I was going to start a band!

CHAPTER 1

The next time I cornered the twins, I asked, plainly out of innocent curiosity, I assured myself, why in the hell Devin lived all alone with Page. You know, just to make sure. They snickered, giving me the look. I wanted to scream at them. They had practically set me up, and they were going to milk it too, I could tell. And strangely, what made me madder than anything was that they had pulled this prank on Devin too.

“Now Keith,” started Kurt, stifling laughter.

“I really wouldn’t have thought that we wouldn’t have to explain the mechanics of same sex pairings to you.” finished Brian, snickering.

“Don’t even insinuate. It’s completely unjustified.” I sniffed, grandly restraining from choking the both of them to death (largely due to the fact that they’d win, if it came to a fight. Two against one usually works that way.)

“And anyways you two, what does that say about your friendship with him? Hmm?”

“Well, if he doesn’t know by now…” trailed Brian to his twin, hiding a smile.

“I guess you really are as dumb as you look, Keith my friend.” Kurt said.

“Ha ha, what, are you poufs too?” I asked tiredly. Why me? Why was it always me?

The twins spoke in unison, which was usually a Very Bad Sign. “Got in one mate. We thought we were being obvious, but you’re just so bloody dense sometimes.”

“Me?!” I shouted, outraged. “At least I don’t set up their innocent cousin with some poor singer, just because I know that said cousin is completely helpless around beautiful singers like him, because yes, he has a bloody perfect voice, and yes, I wish to god that he had some sort of interest in our band, because I was hoping I could finally make something out of it!” I was nearly screaming the last, and the twins looked a little stunned.

            Kurt broke the silence, as usual, with a laugh, albeit a slightly nervous one. “Wow Keith, I didn’t know you had it in you. Nice to see that so many hours of strumming a hollow wooden object has left you with just enough brain cells to master basic human emotions… sort of.”

            “Oh, shove it! I’m going to call him and tell him that you two are the biggest oafs on the planet, and that the whole thing is off.” I started to storm off, glaring, hoping I didn’t run into a pole or anything in my haste.

            “Yo, Keith, wait a minute!” yelled one of the twins from behind me.

            “We didn’t mean to screw everything up. I mean, I don’t see how it couldn’t work like this too. And I have heard that kid sing. He really is amazing, and he would never even think of joining anyone else’s band. He doesn’t like publicity. But somehow, you changed his mind. Do it for him at least, because you know he deserves the chance to get out of that house and make a name for himself.” It was just the right thing to say to make me stop and instantly regret what I’d said a moment ago. They were right, and stupidly I didn’t even question why they were being nice, I was too busy falling headfirst into their evil little trap.

*****

            Traps work both ways I guess. I had gotten them back. I had set them up with the most annoying two girls I could find, and then I’d told them that they of course wouldn’t mind doing it for the band. So that people didn’t start talking about us or anything.

            They glared and huffed, and asked what the hell I was going to be doing while they were shoving their tongues down some girls’ throats. I laughed, winked, and said, “I have to talk to Devin again. Remember, you told me I should work things out with him, so I was supposed to go out with these two girls, but I arranged for them to still have someone to take them out. They were more than happy to settle for the drummer and the bass player of my band, especially when I told them that I had official business, and you two had nothing that could possibly interfere with the likes of them.” I smiled like the Cheshire Cat and left to call Devin to warn him about next practice. I was going to try and see if he wanted to bunk up with one of us for a week or so after the first practice. Then of course he would go home again, but I’d schedule relentless practices and convince him that he should just end up living with one of us for a while, most likely me, since I had the extra bedroom and the… willingness to put up with his company… oh fuck. I was really going for this kid wasn’t I? Life just isn’t fair. Since when did I want anything to do with my own gender? What was wrong with me anyways?

            When I did finally get up the… whatever to call him, he sounded tired and like he was about to cry. He didn’t though, which I was thankful for. I know it seems insensitive, but I was pretty sure that if he started crying I’d only end up proving what a jerk I really was. And I had never really cared up until that moment. He muttered something, but it was muted, like he had his hand over the phone.

            “What?” I asked.

            “Oh…” he seemed to be remembering that I was still there. “I was just talking to Page.” he sounded miserable.

            “I guess I called at a bad time.” I offered generously, trying not to congratulate myself for my thoughtfulness.

            “No! I… I wanted to talk to you. I was wondering how I was supposed to get out there every practice without a car. I just don’t see how I could convince Page to take me more than a couple times.” he sounded apologetic.

            “Yeah, actually I was thinking about that. I was wondering if you would consider spending some time out here, in the city, you know; bunk with me or the twins. After a few practices of course. And not for very long at a time, just a couple days, or a week, and than you go home. I can manage driving out to pick you up that often, no problem.” I had been cautious at first, but as I had been giving the speech, I had started to feel much more confident. Why wouldn’t he want to spend a couple days over here with us? Except for Page, and the tiny fact that he barely knew me, there really was nothing against him doing just what I’d offered, and if not at my house, then at the twins’. But I had that worked out too. My house was the logical choice. I had three bedrooms, one of which I had managed to avoid filling with clutter for just this reason. The twins had a great, but extremely small, two bedroom apartment. And the two of them were not conductive to actual sleep. Although they were far better cooks than I was.

            I burn water, if that tells you anything. But I was betting that I could convince the twins to make dinner for us at practices. They usually did anyways. Besides, it was entertainment of the highest form to watch them beat the crap out of eachother while attempting to make casserole, or soup, or pasta. They invariably ended up involving the whole house in a gigantic wrestling match all over the kitshen. Just because it took three days to clean up the mess they left wherever they went, it never seemed to discourage any of us. We had too much fun.

            My mother, on her sparse visits into my life, had just shook her head and sighed, walking around the place trying to put everything back in order without looking like she was doing any cleaning. I’ll never understand the obsession mothers seem to have with making everything sparkling. It wasn’t like I cared what my house looked like! Hell, I’d left home almost exclusively for the chance to wear dirty socks and not feel guilty. And of course so I could have people pound on loud instruments in my garage, but that went without saying.

            Meanwhile Devin coughed a little nervously, and said, “I’d love to come stay with one of you for awhile. I guess I never really go anywhere, so yeah, it’d be a good thing, right?” he sounded like he wasn’t so sure though.

            I laughed. “Of course. Do you want to stay the first practice? I’ll understand if you don’t want to. It’s all kind of sudden. It’s not really though, for me. I’ve been waiting for a chance to get my act together for a while now.”

            A chuckle, “And you are planning on doing that by getting a band and becoming a rockstar. Great idea, I say.”

            “Well,” I huffed a tad bit defensively, “It seemed like a good one at the time. I don’t have anything else I’m good at, so it’s only natural that white trash ends up going for the music.” I said bitterly.

            “Oh, Keith, Jeesus, give yourself a little more credit than that.” He sounded like he had stepped in a particularly large pile of dog shit. I was tempted to laugh. But no one had ever stuck up for my pride before, and it felt kind of nice. Ego boosting was never a bad thing in my mind, unless it was someone else’s ego.

            “Never mind me. I do that sometimes. Stupid angst issues and all that.” I assured him cheerfully. “It’s not you or anything.”

            “Sure, then I’ll see you on Monday, at noon.” he sounded hurried.

            “Yeah. Dinner is around 8.00, because the twins are lazy bums. But it’s worth waiting for them to make food, because it’s way better than calling out for pizza. Lunch is just snacking all day. We’ve got plenty of beer. Oh… wait a minute, are you 21?” Not that I had actually followed that particular law when I was younger, but he seemed like the type to care.

            “No, but who really gives, right? I drink here anyways. Page is old enough.”

            “So how old are you then?”

            He sighed, “I’m only 17. I left home.” His flat tone didn’t encourage conversation, and he sounded like he would have much preferred to lie. I felt bad about prying, but decided that later, when he trusted me more, I’d get the story out of him. Or maybe, I’d just get him a little drunk and find out that way. And now I knew that his relationship with Page was illegal too. Wow, amazing. Go me.

            “I’m 22. I ran away from college. My parents tried to pack me off to some old school in California and sell my guitar. But they bought me my house, so I should be grateful, huh?”

            “I guess.” he said tonelessly. I wondered what the hell I’d done wrong, and decided that the only way to mediate the damage I was doing would be to hang up. It sounded like a good idea to me.

            “Look, I got another call.” I lied. “Hope to see you Monday, alright? Bring your shit if you’re gonna stay with us. I can pick you up or whatever you need. If you want I can get you at the train station downtown. I’m sure you’ll be able to find that at least.” I sounded a little cold, even to my own ears, and winced inwardly.

            “Yeah, I’ll do that then. 11.30 good for you?”

            “Perfect. See ya.”

            “Yeah.” I heard the dull click as the phone was hung up on the other end. I smacked my hand against my head angrily. ‘Keith, you are such a friggen bastard sometimes, you know that right?’  I pushed a few strands of hair out of my face impatiently. I almost wished I hadn’t sent the twins on a suicide mission, because I wanted to talk to someone. Maybe even confess. It wasn’t in me to hold secrets longer than absolutely necessary, if it wasn’t someone else’s secret. Besides, what use was hiding something like that from the twins? So what if I was falling for the guy I’d just recruited yesterday to sing for my band. Happens all the time, right? Yeah, who exactly was I kidding, anyways? The twins would have had a blast with that little tid-bit of information. Did I have no self preservation?

            Mentally I counted down the days till Monday. It was Thursday, so I had a whole four days of waiting. The thought came to me that if I wanted to show off my house, then I should at least clean it. The place looked like I’d accidentally exploded something inside, and then there were the piles of dishes, and the guitars and the drum set, and all my electrical equipment and recording gear. Man I needed to get a life. I had a bloody rock set in my kitchen.

            I walked around my table and gathered CD’s into piles. I didn’t know where or how I’d gotten so many, but I had pretty much any style of music you could want. Excluding country, which I despised, and anything from before the 60’s. I hated, loathed and detested elevator music. Love songs absolutely drove me insane. And the only kind of Christian music I listened to was the occasional bit of actual rock. I worshipped pretty much everything else. Even the odd opera piece was okay, provided it wasn’t too hard-core. I wasn’t exactly picky. But my favourite genre of all was Glam-Rock. I loved glitter and flared jeans and eye makeup and writhing, pulsing bodies on the dance floor. I lived for it. The twins did too, which was where any real power I had over them lie. They wanted a glitter rock band as much as I did. And this kid with the amazing voice, and the amazing body, was everything we needed. We could transform him into a god on stage. They’d worship him. Like I worshipped David Bowie and Velvet Goldmine and everything even remotely glitter. But then again, I also wanted something new, something frenzied and beautiful and on-edge all at the same time. Something mine, that I could claim. Even though from now on, I’d take second place to Devin in the eyes of the crowd. At least I‘d have a crowd though.

            Shrugging my shoulders to rid myself of any melancholy feelings towards this new development, I turned to shove one pile of CD’s onto a shelf. The dishes were quickly put into the dishwasher, and I had even wiped a rag across the dusty surfaces in my house by the time night came. It wasn’t much, but it was a start. I still had to move all my equipment out to the garage, and then clean out the spare bedroom. I didn’t think he would mind too much if I didn’t have all the dishes done and stuff. But then again, his house was pretty amazing, and huge, and really fancy. Well, at least the stained glass windows and the iron work everywhere were fancy. From the outside the place looked like a total dump. For one irrational moment, I wondered what it was like to lay on that bed while making love, staring up at the shimmering glass above, while screaming his name. I shivered. Where had that thought come from? My head was a scary place at times. Even for me.

            I paused for a second, to consider, really think about, the fact that I wanted a male band member to be more than friends. As far as I knew, I wasn’t gay. True, I had been hanging out with two gay guys for the last twenty years of my life, and I had never really gone out with a girl voluntarily. I’d always done it out of guilt. I’d never even really had a steady girlfriend. But maybe I was bi. I mean, don’t most people at least have a pretty solid idea of what sexuality they are by my age? I was twenty-fucking-one! Not thirteen! I didn’t need this complication. And there had never been any other guy that I’d taken notice of, so maybe all was not lost. I quickly tried to replay moments in my high school locker rooms, but found that I had been too pissed off at having to waste my time on gym to take note of anyone else around me. I couldn’t recall catching any eyefuls in the locker, although there had probably been plenty to see, because I’d never paid attention. I had been bound and determined to treat P.E. as a punishment for being alive. I had to serve my penance and then I was free to forget the whole experience.

            Devin was different though. Somehow I was noticing him. It wasn’t fair. Why now, of all times. Why after I’d already become semi-comfortable with my role in life? Why throw this in my face after I was done with all that awkward soul-searching? And why was it still not clear to me? Was I just some sort of asexual freak? I was beginning to think that I would have preferred it that way. Relationships seemed like so much trouble, and I knew first hand that adding sex to the equation made things ten times worse. Countless girls had proved that to me, with me as the willing victim or not. It never seemed to improve a relationship, but by that time I usually didn’t cared anymore. It was strange to realize that up until now, I had never given sex much thought, even when I’d been doing three or four girls a month. It had never once in my life been anything more than relieving tension. The girls never turned me on, just what they did. I must be a freak. Don’t most teenage guys think about sex 24/7? Am I just a strange by-product of an unnatural union between a lesbian and a gay guy? Or not… I like to think that my parents were normal people, and that the only reason I was adopted was because they didn’t have enough money, and were just doing what was best for me. At least I can dream. But judging from myself, I think they were most likely two doped up losers who never wanted a kid. Just so happens that they got one. And then they abandoned me.

            I try not to be bitter about it, but everyone has a sore spot, right? I just don’t like knowing that I was unwanted goods. And I never plan to have a kid. I don’t know why anyone would want the little buggers. They’re loud and annoying and immature and stupid, and they make all the same mistakes you made when you were they age. It’s almost embarrassing to watch them and know that once upon a time, you acted like that. Actually, I was probably worse. I was somewhat on the wild side. My first couple sets of foster parents figured out pretty quick that they were in over their heads. I don’t remember much of those days though. It’s all kinda veiled and muzzy. I think I wanted to forget. My parents now, the ones I’ve lived with for over 15 years, thing it’s a little strange that I wouldn’t remember any of my childhood, but who wants to remember something bad? I know it was bad because they always shake their heads and say, “It’s better off that way.” and give me pitying glances. I hate pity! It’s cruel. It’s what the better-off throw in your face to make up for being better off than you, but inside they love the drama, the flair to your life. Inside they’re laughing at you. Inside it hardly matters what hell you’ve been through, so long as they can lend a sympathetic ear, and say that they were a part of something important. It’s not even a real emotion. I’ve had enough pity in my life to last me until I’m old and feeble. I guess that people’s perception of the world around them changes with time. I used to want the pity; I mistook it for caring. In the end though, caring is so much more than a greedy, sympathetic ear, so hungry for all of your pain. And I’ve never had anyone that I cared about beyond the deep friendship I feel for the twins. Now though, there is something else there, waiting to surface. I don’t recognize the feeling, but I’m willing to wait until I understand it to analyse it. Maybe when he comes here and spends some time with me, it’ll all be clear, or better yet, it will all go away. That’s what usually happens to emotions with me. I can never get a proper grasp of them before they slide between my fingers again. I used to panic about it, because everything just sort of went numb, until I realised that it made everything so much less complicated. I guess once that happened, and I could accept it, I was able to have a sort of peace with myself, just waiting for the part of me I was missing to come back. Maybe if I’m lucky, I’ve found somebody who can unlock that part of me that just got buried. If that person just happened to be Devin, then why should I worry whether he was male or female? What use did it do me anyways? I was who circumstance had made me, and it was time I got used to it.

            When I left to pick Devin up at the airport I was unaccountably nervous. This whole infatuation thing was starting to get old very quickly. I was afraid he’d think that I lived in a dump, or that the band was a bad idea, or that my playing wasn’t as good as he’d fist though. It was driving me insane. It took every spare ounce of willpower I possessed to keep me from tearing out my hair. I wished once again that I had brought the twins with. They would have laughed and called me cute and mocked me, but at least I would have had company, something to keep my mind off the inevitable. I wasn’t even sure what the inevitable was anymore, just that I was really nervous, and horny, and I needed to calm down or I’d start having hysterics.

            I pulled into the parking lot at the bus station and was debating getting out to look for Devin and possibly a tall mocha with a lot of caffeine when I saw what appeared to be Devin and Page standing against one wall on the opposite side of the parking lot, with their arms around eachother. Okay, so it was Devin and Page. Page had caught sight of me, had discreetly managed to turn Devin’s back to me, and was currently looking at me with the most incredibly smug expression on his face. Then he bent down  little, and making sure that I was watching, kissed Devin. Bastard! ‘Why… mine… not good…’ my mental thought process broke down at this point because Devin had turned around. Poor kid. He looked like a deer caught in the headlights. Page just shoved him towards me and conveniently disappeared. I hated him so much right then. I couldn’t believe he would do that to his own boyfriend; like he was a trophy or something to be owned.

            I waved and popped the trunk of my car, waiting for Devin to stash his stuff and come sit next to me in the car. He did so, although he was so nervous I could almost feel him shaking. God, Page was a bastard! I tried to smile reassuring, but he must have realized I was furious because he said in a very small voice, “I can go. I understand. I guess, I mean…” He stopped at an abrupt headshake from me.

            “He has no right to do that to you!” I burst out angrily, as shocked as he was to hear the words coming out of my mouth. “He doesn’t own you and he shouldn’t flaunt you like that!”

            Devin blushed a little and looked away. “So you’re not angry that I’m…you know…”

            “Why should I be?” I asked indignantly. Come on, give me a little credit here. I’m not quite as much of an unfeeling prick as I let people think.

            “Page isn’t all that bad.” he offered after a minute of awkward silence. “He just, I think he’s jealous. I usually stay with him all the time and no matter what I do, it’s almost always at his suggestion. He didn’t really want me to go, but at least he let me in the end.”

            “That sounds pretty horrible to me.” I observed with all the grace of a cat in steel-toed boots, or an adolescent in a 22 year old man’s body. God I’m good at royally fucking things up.

            Devin was staring out at the city vaguely, tiredly. “Yeah, well, it’s better than a lot of things. At least I don’t have to live out there.” he said flatly, nodding towards the street.

            “The streets aren’t all that bad.” I said trying to get a reaction.

            “You ever tried living on them?” he asked coldly. At my negative response he laughed darkly, “Then don’t go venturing opinions.”

            Okay, so far I’ve learned that there are a lot of things that you just don’t mention to Devin. He seemed to have retreated to a place inside himself, and I’m a little afraid to call him back. So I just keep driving, glancing at him occasionally out of the corner of my eye to make sure he’s okay.

            After a while of this, he looks up at me as I quickly try to pretend that I wasn’t in the process of watching him. “You can stop that!” he exclaims. “I’m not about to break or anything. Jesus!”

            I guiltily look away and murmur an apology. Great, so I’ve completely screwed things up. Why oh why did I agree to pick him up without the twins?! I’m such a bloody idiot! I have to salvage things before there’s no hope left of fixing what I’ve inadvertently started.

            “So, do you go to high school or anything?” I ask conversationally.

            He looks up at me tiredly and grins a little. “Me? They wouldn’t let me near one of those things if I paid them. I kinda got kicked out. Well, okay, I really got kicked out. But I had the test scores, and the brains, just none of the determination and willingness to work that it takes to maintain grades.” he shrugged, but I saw something darker in his words. I mean, what’s a bright student like him not doing in school at age 17? He was probably an illegal dropout and I wanted to know why. He couldn’t have really done anything horrible enough to get him kicked out of the entire school system. Even I hadn’t dropped out or been expelled. And that goes to show you how easy school must be for a smart kid like Devin. I’d even managed to keep mostly passing grades. I was lucky that my school counted D’s in that category, or I probably would have dropped out.

            “How about this band thing.” he said, and I seized on the new topic desperately.

            “Yeah, well, the twins have got this tiny little apartment with two bedrooms, and they fill it up completely, so you’re left with me.” I grin at him, and he smiles back, without it touching his eyes. “So practices are whenever we can ram them in usually, but we have all week this time. I set everything up in my garage,  but usually it’s all over my living room. I tried to clean up, though I’m sure it’s still not what other’s would call clean. You can stick all your stuff in the guest bedroom when we get home.” I turned onto a side street off the highway and took a meandering course back to my house, guaranteed to get anyone lost. I hated living in these crowded suburbs. Finally I saw the beginning of a long driveway and pulled into it, attempting to not notice how much my stomach was fluttering out of control. I was afraid that if I tried to speak anymore my voice would crack like some adolescent.

            Devin was studying my house critically, and I was almost surprised when he smiled and said, “Wow, you’re lucky to have such a nice place straight out of high school.”

            “Yeah, I guess you’re right.” it had never occurred to me that regular people didn’t usually own their own houses so young. I was pretty lucky.

            He gave me a strange look but didn’t say anything, just followed me into the house. “I wish Page wanted to live in the city.” he finally broke the silence wistfully.

            “Well,” I said, feeling reluctant, “have you ever asked him?”

            Devin gave me a sharp glance that implied I was bloody out of my mind, and looked away. “I can’t.”

            “What?” I asked, thoroughly lost. I didn’t understand their relationship at all. There were too many things complicating it.

            “Never mind.” he aid with an evasive shrug of his thin shoulders.

            “Geez Devin! For crying out loud, you’re seventeen, not seven! He doesn’t own you.”

            “Oh, you’d be surprised, rich boy.”

            “I can’t help it if I’m rich!” but by this point I could tell he just wanted a rise out of me.

            “Like I said, never mind. It doesn’t really matter, he let me do this band thing so it’s cool. When is the first practice, by the way?”

            “Oh… it’s tomorrow night, because I figured it would be the only way we’d get a decent dinner. The twins were supposed to be getting here in an hour or so, but they got delayed” (yeah, delayed my ass, more like they conveniently realized that they had some errands to run, so they could try and give me and Devin time to “adjust”) “and so they won’t be here till around five or so.”

            “Oh, so I guess I should put my stuff away and then you can show me whatever there is here to see, right?”

            I tried not to gape at him, but damn, he had nerve. Laughing, I looked over at him, pretending like I had been expecting that the whole time and said fluidly, “I’ve never even seen most of it, so sure, but you’ll probably be leading me around. Just because I live her doesn’t mean I know what there is to do. I never go out unless it’s with the twins. There are a couple of great bars, but that’s about the extent of my knowledge.”

            “Oh,” he said, looking slightly crestfallen, but he recovered. “Then I guess that’s what I’ll do. You might as well see it once, and if I’ve got to drag you, then I shall.”

            “Demanding bastard, aren’t you?” I replied conversationally. I really didn’t feel like going out anywhere, and I’d developed a fond sort of embarrassment over my smallish little city. I had also developed a fond sort of obsession with Devin, so I chose what any love sick idiot would have. I decided that one night spent in civilized human company wasn’t going to kill me. Besides, Devin was right, I should see it once, if only to say that I had.

            Three hours later I was being (literally) dragged to yet another art gallery. What was so special about Picasso and Monet anyways? Picasso looked to me like some drunken toddler had splashed some paint on an expensive canvas and called it a masterpiece. This must have been the fifth building we’d been into, all covered in exhibits by artists I had no interest in. But I trailed doggedly behind Devin, patiently listening to him explain why this or that painting was particularly important.

            He turned around and laughed at me. “My god, you can’t find art that boring, can you?”

            I tried to perk myself up and attempt reply to the negative, but instead I ended up nodding, “Yes,” I said.

            “Well,” he checked his watch, “it’s not time for dinner yet, so we can’t do that, but coffee sounds good, something chilled, and I saw some weird little shops down that way.”

            “Sounds good.” I replied, and apparently, that was that.

            The weird little shops turned out to be a bunch of strange, old-feeling Pagan stores filled with incense, candles, books, and herbs. We stood outside, feeling like intruders for a moment, and then opened the door. “You into this kind of stuff?” I asked Devin in a whisper.

            “Me? Naw… I think it’s interesting though. You can’t help but wonder…”

            A quiet voice interrupted our conversation. “You boys looking for anything in particular?” asked an old woman from her perch at the front desk. I hadn’t noticed her there before.

            “No, we were just looking.”

            “Ah, yes.” she said, as if we had explained everything. She eyed us for a second, then offered, “I do fortune telling. You two look like you could use a palm reading, and I’m one of the best around. Here, come sit on the stool, give me your hand.” And before I knew it, I was seated on a rickety old stool in front of an even older crone, with my hand outstretched. I felt suddenly vulnerable. Devin was giving me a strange, intense stare. I was unnerved, and felt the urge to snatch my hand back from her fine-boned fingers.

            Slowly she began, closing her eyes briefly before they snapped open to rest unwaveringly on the palm she held in her ancient hand. One finger trailed along the largest line. “You’ve had a full life, a little shallow, but things get better, although not right away. Maturity comes with age. This part shows that your childhood was well-balanced, but abruptly cut off.” Large, curious eyes looked up from studying my hand, to rest on my face. After a second, she continued, “This little cluster at the base of your thumb signifies depression, characterized by mood swings, but nothing so major when you really look back on it. The line here,” she traced the line curving downwards on my palm, “tells me that you spend a lot of time to yourself, but you have friends where it counts. You like to think, and you need time alone. You’re extremely patient, in fact, it shows me that you’ve been waiting for quite a while. Don’t despair of waiting yet, it would be a shame to let go right before everything started to go right for you. You will live a full life, but be burdened with your thoughts. They don’t grow easier with time, but only easier to except. Don’t trouble yourself with the small things. Live life to the fullest while you can, and then look back on it as a fond memory, not a bitter one, because I also see that you are a cynic at heart. Love while you have the chance, don’t be so patient as you are with everything else. Sometimes it’s the right time to rush things.”

            I ducked my head to hide my growing unease, and the slight blush I’d seemed to have picked up. “I guess I kinda know what you mean.” I tried to disguise the meaning filled glance I cast towards Devin, standing next to me. He caught my eyes though, and I tried to pretend like I hadn’t meant anything by the look. He gave me the barest hint of a smile. The old woman smiled mysteriously. Devin seemed to be glaring at her reprovingly, and suddenly she laughed, a deep rich sound from a lifetime of happy days. I envied her. “You kids are so cute, dance around the subject all you like, I’m just glad I’m not involved, I’d go crazy like that.”

            “Misha! How could you?!” Devin seemed completely mortified. I was just very, very confused.

            “You two know eachother?” I asked, eyes impossibly wide. Why did I always get set up? It wasn’t fair. First the twins and now by Devin.

            Wait a minute, Devin was trying to set me up to… to what? Why would he do something like that? Unless he wanted it too? No. That wasn’t the answer, I was dreaming. Better yet, I was having a nightmare, and I’d wake up in a few minutes in a cold sweat, trying not to scream, left empty and unfeeling like before I'd met him, with a strange little seed planted in my brain. No… maybe it was possible… Maybe he did feel the same way. But Devin had Page, why would he want me? And how would he even know that I was… gay? I wanted to tear my hair out, but settled instead for acting extremely dense and oblivious.

            “Yes… We, yeah, we sort of know eachother. She helped me out earlier, when things were… complicated.” he answered my question, and I tried to ignore how he much he looked like a small child who had been caught lying. It was really adorable though, his tawny hair hung into his eyes, shielding them, like he was ashamed of himself, and his hands caught nervously at the hem of his T-shirt. His eyes begged that I forget the whole incident, at least, if I wasn't ready to handle it, and I knew that I would only mess things up if I rushed to resolve everything the moment things started becoming apparent. Surely I was missing something… something important. And since nothing irrevocable had been said, I could continue to pretend ignorance, and see how things played out. Maybe he'd really meant what he'd been implying, and if that was so, then I was in for something I wasn't sure I was ready for, no matter how much I wanted Devin, or thought I wanted him.

            I hardly knew anything about him, after all. I didn't know any of his reasons for being where he was today, and I didn't understand him at all. In fact, all I really knew about Devin was his age, that he'd run away, that he liked boys, that he was with Page, and that he had an amazing voice. Beyond that, it was entirely guess-work. But every moment I spent in his company I learned something new. He wasn't as closed off as I'd first thought he was. He was just wary, and even though I didn't know why, I thought it was probably with good reason.  People like Devin had always intrigued me, was it so wrong to let that mystery draw me close enough to truly care? Some people would think it callousness on my part, but in the long run, it ensured just how much I really cared. If interest turned to love, who had the right to deny me, or him for that matter. I could tell that his relationship with Page was not all that it should have been, but I couldn't quite place my finger on it. Maybe it was just jealousy, but I didn't think so. Page wasn't abusive or anything, of that I was sure, but maybe just overly controlling, almost like he owned Devin, and Devin's body, for as long as the boy chose to take sanctuary there. Because I could also feel that Devin didn't love Page. It gave me hope, and at the same time made me fearful. I hated confrontations, and this whole situation seemed like one long soap opera to me. If people started showing up with amnesia all of the sudden, I wouldn't have been surprised in the least. Besides, Devin was a minor, and Page was over twenty-one. Then again, so was I. Although I, on the other hand, was ready and willing to wait for him to turn eighteen before I tried anything. Page seemed to have no such scruples.

            We finally arrived home late that night, after a nice (and expensive) dinner at some Japanese restaurant near Misha's little shop. I had left the building highly unsettled, and the uneasy feeling every time Devin got too close stayed with me all evening long.

            I sat down on floor, after grabbing a couple of beers on my way through the kitchen, and motioned for Devin to sit down too. He did, but hesitantly, as though he was afraid to disturb the way the carpet fibres were lying. "Hey man, relax, this isn't a mansion or anything. It's not nearly as nice as the place you live in."

            He laughed a little, looking embarrassed, "I guess I'm just nervous in new situations, that's all. And it seems so…" he paused, frustratedly searching for a word, "different here. It's more relaxed, not demanding at all. I think I like it, I'm just not used to it."

            I smiled sympathetically. I actually kind of knew what he meant. I always felt like I was intruding when I went to other people's houses. "I like it here too. It's so much less rigid than home. There's no one to tell you to clean up, or wash your clothes, or "turn that damn noise down" or anything. I can do whatever the hell I want here, so don't worry, my place usually looks like a dump, and no matter how careful we are, by the time the week is over, the twins will have trashed the place again."

            "Oh. That sounds kinda nice. Page is always worrying about keeping everything at least semi-spotless." He chuckled a little.

            I'd noticed that when I'd been there, but I didn't say anything. Some people just couldn't stand dirt and disarray. I wasn't one of those people. I also noticed that whatever confidence Devin had seemed to possess before the palm-reading, he had completely lost it. He seemed extremely small and nervous. I remembered the earlier conversation, when we'd been in the car, and he'd told me that I'd be surprised how someone could own someone else. In a desperate attempt to change the subject, I asked, "So, how come you aren't in high school? I mean, I you seem plenty smart enough. Surely Page wouldn't begrudge you an education?" I was prying, but I just couldn't help myself anymore, not knowing anything was killing me.

            "Oh, yes he would. He says that I'm lucky to have a good home and all that, and I don't need any of that education stuff anyways. I never liked school, but I did pretty good. In fact, up until high school, I was almost a straight A student. Then I guess things changed. Mom remarried, and the guy was… he was a bastard."

            "What did he do?"

            "I, gods, I didn't think my mom knew, at least that's what I told myself. I was sure that if she knew about it, she would have sent him away. Mothers were there to protect their children and all that, right? Well, she definitely wasn't. She thought I was old enough that I could handle myself, and any situations I happened to get into, even if she was the cause for the situation in the first place. He thought I was such easy prey. I tried to stay out of his reach, but he grabbed me, and I don't know what I did to make him so upset. He hit me, so hard that I almost was knocked unconscious. I wish I had been. He… he raped me. I don't understand. My mom loved him, and he just wanted me. That night, I woke up completely dazed, packed a bag full of my stuff, and left. Just like that. He'd been beating me up for months, ever since he'd moved in with us, at the end of my eighth grade year. I could take that, but the… rest, I couldn't handle it. It didn't matter how much I'd thought she cared, she let him do that to me, and never said a thing about it. I think she was afraid that if she took me away from him, he'd leave. She was right of course. But shit, you'd think that she would have cared just a little. I can't believe she betrayed me like that!"

            "Devin, look, I know we haven't really known each other for very long, but maybe you aren't as perfect as you seem. So what? Nobody wants perfection, and you're a good deal more perfect than a lot of people I know. Just because something horrible happened to you, it doesn't mean that other's don't care about you enough to be there when it matters. Not everyone will abandon you like she did." I tried to be soothing, and he looked up at me with a strange light in his eyes.

            "Would you be there for me?" he asked with deceptive lightness.

            "I hope I have the honour."

            "Would you be there for me if I wanted to get out, get away, from Page, and this whole life?"

            "That depends on what you mean…" I said uneasily.

            He looked up at me, confused for a second, before realization dawned, and he spoke hastily, "Oh, no, that's not what I meant. I'm not desperate enough for suicide. I just meant, would you be there to help me get away from him and the life he's created for me?"

            "Yes." I answered definitely. That was one promise I thought I could keep. I had a feeling that I might eventually have to make good on my word this time. Not that I would especially mind. I was waiting with antsy anticipation for tomorrow night, when I would get to hear that perfect voice again. 'The audience will eat him up,' I thought in a moment of insight. His attitude was the perfect mix of charm and sincerity, and people just loved that. I didn't understand why people liked it so much when someone was honest about lying to them. I mean, just because they knew about it, did that make it better? I liked Devin's refreshing innocence, mixed and tainted as that innocence was. He thought he was damaged goods, but honestly, his perseverance just made me fall that much more in love with him.

            "How long have you wanted this band?" he asked suddenly.

            "Since I've known what music was. I never went though stages like other kids, I've always known. It's just been there, in the back of my mind since before I could understand what it was I wanted. How about you? How long have you been singing?"

            "I'd love to make some glib comment about how I could sing before I could talk, but that's hardly true. I had a perfectly normal childhood, until I listened to my mom singing along to the radio for the first time. After that I couldn't help myself, I was always singing or humming. I think I must have driven my poor teachers, not to mention my mother, crazy. At some point I eventually picked up a guitar and learned to accompany myself, and I started writing songs, of all kinds. I was never meant to be as good at it as you, though. It's just a hobby for me. You play like you were born holding a guitar."

            "Yeah, well, I learned to sing a little bit better than most to make my playing sound more complete, but I can never touch what you've got naturally. There's always something to be said for pure talent, huh? I guess we just got off lucky that way, even though it sometimes doesn't seem like it."

            "I guess you're right there." He agreed easily. "Geniuses come in all forms, right?"

            "Yep, that's about the whole of it."

            "So, do you have a job, or do you and your band play gigs in a club? I never got a chance to do anything like that. Getting up in front of so many people, it seems pretty intimidating." He said uncertainly, obviously waiting for me to comfort him with reassurances. I obliged him automatically.

            "I thought so too, but once you get up there, on that stage, and everyone is watching you, you don't care what they think anymore. What you think is more important. They just want your music, while you, you're performing art. All you hear is the beat, the melody, crashing inside your head, and believe me, it's the sweetest high you could want."

            He grinned. "I'm sure you've got lots to compare it to, huh."

            "Dunno, I get a better buzz off of my music, but I've done some stuff." The statement was nonchalant, but I'd had to practise to make it seem that way. In truth, I'd never done much of anything before. Just the occasional joint or two behind the school with my friends. I hoped to hell he didn't touch any of that stuff, it would screw his voice up so bad. I smoked, but I didn't have anything to lose by doing it. After all, my life wasn't that much of a sacrifice for me anyways. "If I ever see you anywhere near a pack of these," I said, waving my cigarettes in front of his face, "I will personally strangle you. You've got too much of a gift to ruin it with something so trivial. It would be tantamount to suicide in your case. Partly because I'd kill you. Too many gifted people go the way of drugs, and ruin everything. Believe me, it's not anywhere near worth it, no matter how much you feel the need to rebel. I'd rather you killed someone instead." I said it lightly, but it was the prefect truth. I would have preferred that he had me kill someone than having even the slightest chance that his voice was damaged. After all, perfection was a commodity that was hard to come by in this age.

            He looked up at me again, shocked, then he laughed. "You're serious, aren't you?"

            "Yes."  

            "Geez, I'm pretty stupid sometimes, but you really don't have to mother me."

            "Well, maybe it was time somebody cared. Maybe I'm the right person. Would you let me care about you?"

            He turned his head wearily away from me, his eyes haunted. "I… gods, why would anyone want to care about a fuck-up like me? I'm just a screwed up, screwed over runaway. Nobody wants me! Nobody!" he said forcefully, his quiet voice carrying an edge better than shouting would have.

            "Hey, Devin, look at me. I barely know you. But what I want more than anything is for you to give me a chance, just let me inside. Let me in all the way. I won't do what your mom, or your step-dad, or Page did, I'll be there for you. I need someone too, you know. I've been alone so long I'd forgotten how to care. I'll probably end up hurting us both more than I help. But I want to give us a chance, just one chance. Can you at least try it, for both our sakes?"

            He lifted his eyes to meet mine, and I saw the raw emotions playing across his face. Hatred, anger, relief, sadness, pain, grief, hope, longing, and the first tentative stirrings of lust were written plainly on his expressive features. Taking heart I let my hand fall to my side and reach hesitantly for his cold one. Our connection in those first moments was so profound that words failed to convey the feeling. We stayed like that in silence for several minutes before Devin could look at me again, and this time I saw a smile, pale and unsure, but all the more genuine for its insecurity. "I'd think I'd like to try at least. I've never been one to trust easily… it's just, you have to understand," he began.

            I cut him off gently. "Don't worry about that. I do understand, and I believe that all you need is time. It doesn't heal everything, but it at least buries the scars where we don't have to look at them everyday. Eventually we can begin to move on, maybe even start to forget. Keep the lessons, but not the pain. Someday all of that will be just one more thing you had to weather. Time will dull the ache you carry with you, all the unsatisfied anger and hatred. Don't let the learning defeat you, because the harder the lesson was, the more you can take away and the stronger you become. Don't let him win in the end. You're better than that, even I can see it."

            "I wish I had your confidence. I wish I had your patience. But I get so tired of it all. Sometimes I can barely even stand to know that the people I trusted never gave shit about me. Sometimes I wish them all dead."

            "Yes, well, so do I, now that I know, and they deserve worse." I said firmly. If I had been him, I would have done a lot worse than just wish them dead. Death was more of a reprieve than anything else, so why grant it to people like that? Let the punishment fit the crime, I say. Changing the subject abruptly I asked, "So, do you think that you have gotten any better since when you ran away? Have things been getting easier for you?" In other words, 'do you think you can get over what's happened to you without professional help?'

            "I don't really know for sure. Page took me in, and he keeps me so close I barely take a piss without his say-so. It's almost like he wants me to be so completely dependant on him that I'll never be able to leave." He appeared to be contemplating this as though it had never occurred to him before, so I bit my tongue. I was developing an extreme dislike and jealousy towards Page, and I knew I could never win the rivalry between us if I deliberately tried to turn Devin's boyfriend into a monster. Let the boy figure out for himself just how controlling Page really was. Maybe he just needed a little help to know the difference between caring about someone and owning them.  If there was a difference…

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