Fifty Million Followers [BOYXBOY]

35.

There's a ringing in my ears when I wake up. It's not from an alarm or from a notification, but from my ear drums, absolutely obliterated from the night before. I don't know if it was from the music or that girl's screams at the bus stop.

I think about throwing up, but I don't, and I reach for some pills that might dull the pain in my head but won't kick in for a good while. It's a haze, last night, remembering only the fan, the phone call with Parker, and the kiss from Demitri. I didn't even bother to check if he's alright; just one text telling me he went off with someone.

Shit, I remember the call with Parker, and my gut twists inside me. Did I say anything odd? I woke him up in the middle of the night, why did I do that?

I pad in tracksuit bottoms and a plain shirt to my door, smelling something that I need in me right now.

It's bacon. It's fucking bacon.

The floor in the corridor is empty, and to my side is Oliver at his own door, having a whole banquet wheeled into his room like he's a king who hasn't eaten in days.

The first thing I notice is that he's topless.

"You forget to order breakfast?"

I nod. "Looks like you're having a party in there."

Oliver laughs. "My eyes are bigger than my belly." And then there's silence. He moves out of the way of the door to let the guy wheel in the covered breakfast but I do know for a fact that there's bacon under one of those dishes and Oliver sees, sees my hungry eyes and my watering mouth.

He motions with his head. "Come on, I'm not going to eat it all anyway."

.....

Oliver and I sit opposite each other at the small round table by the window. I'm devouring most of the breakfast laid out because a hungover stomach is a fucking starving one. It's like I've never eaten before, and even if American bacon tastes a bit weird compared to home, I'm still licking my fingers and guzzling down orange juice like this is my last meal. All the lads have seen me eat before; it's not a pretty sight but they're used to it.

Oliver, once I'd entered a room, had put his shirt back on. I can't tell whether it was for me or for him; knowing that I'm in love with him, it might help me actually talk to him instead of stare at him. Or, if he felt like I'd be ogling at him, and he'd feel exposed.

I'm not thinking about it too much, not when there's a plate of hash browns beside me. It seems the hotel have brought together a full English just for us.

"So you went out last night?" He asks, playing with his scrambled egg that I might rip away from him if he keeps going. "I asked Candice...she told me you didn't invite me on purpose."

I stop mid chew and look at him. Oliver always looks amazing when he's half tired with bed head and a lop-sided grin. I reckon I'll be met with a sad look on his face but when there's just...support, I smile back.

"It wasn't a malicious thing, mate."

"No, I know. It's good. But, we're still best friends, right? I don't want to lose you."

"We'll always be. I've got to help you sing remember."

He scoffs, finally putting a fork full of egg in his mouth. "I think that's a lost cause, don't you?"

"No way! You're doing stellar, we just need more time. I reckon you could properly sing, without backup, by the time we're back on stage in a few days. Vegas won't know what hit 'em."

Oliver smiles into his breakfast, and I want to fly to the fucking moon. It's feelings like these I've got to keep to myself now, because they're no good out in the open. Soon, this'll end, soon, it'll be over.