Omega Blues (Gay Romance)

Chapter Twenty-Seven: Guitar Fail

Matt

I had a few bad days in a row. Nothing out of the normal. Not scary too-werewolf-to-handle stuff. Just gently messing things up. Knocking books off my desk, spilling popcorn on movie night. I've always been clumsy so it was no big deal.

Until our gig on Saturday night.

It was just a few local bands playing, mostly college bands like us. We were playing last (Will says it's not cool to call ourselves the headlining band) so I spent most of the evening grooving to the music. I kept messing up, knocking someone with a flailing elbow, losing my balance and toppling just from a bit of headbanging. But, again, I've always been a clumsy goof so no one seemed to care.

When we got on stage I knew everything was going to be okay. There's nothing quite as great as playing live. Even if I nail everything in rehearsals, it still feels better when I'm up on stage seeing my band rock out and the happy faces of the audience. The good vibes make it okay if I strum out of beat because I'm too busy dancing or jumping up and down screaming.

And I was right. The crowd were cheering, and some of the core fans knew the lyrics and sung along with us. My hands moved on instinct, playing the chords and rhythms I knew and loved from years of rehearsals and performances.

Connor was drumming perfectly behind me, Liv's guitar synced with my bass and layered in on top of my sound, Will's vocals got the crowd amped, and Chop's lead guitar showed us all up. And there was me, not as badass or shreddy as the others, but such an essential part that the band couldn't function without me.

It was fantastic.

Until I thought, I'm a werewolf! Look at me, a werewolf playing bass guitar!

And suddenly I was fumbling on the strings. I thought about being a werewolf and forgot that I was playing bass on stage. I imagined shifting right there, how cool and shocking it would be. I'd ruin everything for all of werewolf-kind forever by outing us to muggles, which is bad. But on the other hand, playing bass with claws instead of a pick would be amazing!

I felt something weird happen to my right hand, and when I looked down my shaking hand was thickening and the skin getting dark. The hair on my arm was thickening and growing longer.

No. No. Oh no!

My hand was quaking so hard that I dropped the pick.

In front of me the crowd were cheering, and around me the music was still pulsing. My band were playing but I'd stopped.

As a musician you've only really got one job: Play the song. And I'd just stopped and let everyone down. I wasn't good enough.

And, if the throbbing in my head and arms was anything to go by, I was about twelve seconds from shifting into a werewolf and freaking everybody out.

I looked desperately to my band. Will was still singing, but he was turned toward me and frowning like he knew something was wrong. Without missing a lyric, he caught Liv's attention and jerked his head toward me. Connor must have picked up on his mind signals, because before Will had even moved Connor had launched into an over-the-top attention seeking fill that drew all eyes to him and away from me.

In the next bar Liv's hands had slid up the neck of her guitar to strum out the rhythm low and bassy. Playing my bass line on her guitar. She tapped her octave pedal to slide her sound into my range and, just like that, her guitar was filling up the void where my bass had been. It was effortless and delicate, water flowing into a cave. The audience had probably not even noticed, not with all the noise of the bar. The only thing that would give us away was the fact that I was still standing there, freaking out and doing nothing while the rest of my band covered for me.

Liv rocking out was one thing, because we all knew she was the best musician of all of us and she could play my bass line in her sleep-she'd written most of the bass parts herself, after all. Chop was so cool she could keep playing a solo even if a dragon stormed into the venue and set fire to her shoes. And will, yeah, of course he'd see me in trouble and step in to help because that was just the kind of person he was-strong and nice and a great leader, even before I knew he was an alpha and we were his pack.

But it was Connor who got me. Even after a year of werewolf superpowers he still got shy on stage and tried to blend in, playing to the music and not drawing attention to himself. But he'd gone out on a limb because, when it came down to it, he'd rather be uncomfortable than see me suffer.

My amazing band. And I wasn't good enough.

"You all know this next one," Will crooned into the microphone. "And I know you can all sing along. Stairway to Heaven!"

That wasn't how our set went. Stairway was a crowd pleaser but way too long to play live, it was just something we messed around with when Will was feeling extra Robert Plant during rehearsal.

But it did have two slow long minutes of introduction without vocals, which meant Chop could show off her guitar impression of the recorders at the start of the song, and Will could come talk to me.

"You okay?" Will peered into my face, frowning.

I reached for my pick, but it slipped back out of my wibbly fingers.

"Oh no," I said. "Nooo. I'm not okay."

He reached for the strap of my bass. "Here. Liv can take over."

"I can't let everyone down," I said. I could hear the whining in my voice. I couldn't tell whether the pressure behind my eyes was from stress and the prickle of tears or if my face was starting to wolf out. "Please Will. I need to keep playing but... I don't know. Something's happening."

"It's okay." Will let go of my bass and just rubbed my shoulder.

"Bren was right," I groaned. "I can't handle being a werewolf. I'm not strong like you guys. I can't play my bass, I can't even stay a person!"

For a moment his eyes got wide. But then he pulled me into a hug, bulky guitar and all. "It's okay," he soothed. "You're okay. Just breathe and think about your bass part. You know this. You know this bar. You know this song. You're our pack and our bass player. If you want to keep playing, you can keep playing. Of course you can."

"I'm a mess-up Will!"

"You're not. You're a new werewolf, and that's tough. But I'm here for you. And you're one of us no matter what. We all are. We know you can do this."

I looked past him, to my two guitarists rocking at an old classic, to my drummer who was just waiting for his queue to join in. Connor pulled a thumbs-up and grinned at me.

I'd messed up, but my band still wanted me. I was good enough just for being myself.

"We're here for you," Will said again. "And if you want to play Stairway on stage, now's your chance."

"I do like Stairway." I ran my tongue over my teeth and, to my relief, found they were still flat and human.

I could feel something tingling and electric running through my body, all fresh energy and excitement like I'd been chugging soda. It was the crowd, the audience who were now waving their arms in time with the music. I could feel their adoration.

No. It wasn't the crowd. It was Will and my pack. Their support was filling me up with strength.

"Will," I said. "I think I'm feeling it. I'm feeling werewolf power!"

"Yeah you are." He grinned hugely, standing so close that his face blurred and I noticed all over again that he looked like Bren.

I held my hand steady, watching the short nails in case they decided to grow into claws again. But I was safe. I was finally feeling what Bren had been talking about, the power that came from having my werewolf pack support me. I was back in control of myself and my body again.

I adjusted my bass strap on my shoulder. "Time for you to sing! I can fall in."

And just like that, everything was back to normal.