We haven't shared a stage since the His Side show in '79. Barcelona. The night we made our relationship real. As the years have rolled on, I find it more difficult to recall the way I had to convince him and focus only on the fact that I did. And that I was right. We are so good together.
Favorite Person. He called me his favorite person.
Could that mean he's ready or am I reading too much into it?
Shit, my turn to sing again. Focus.
I motion to Ryan to signal his part. He moves close to me, brushing my side as he walks. Startled, I look around to see if anyone noticed. He bumps my hip with his. It feels like foreplay but it can't be. Not here. In front of all of them.
Ryan struts to his microphone with a confident swagger. It looks fucking good on him. Makes me want to rip off his clothes right here.
Fuck. Get your head in the game. He is so god dammed distracting. I concentrate on playing, waiting for my next part to sing. My only hope of making it through this song is ignoring him altogether.
The last note of the song rings out and I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding. Finally. Longest 4 minutes of my life. I hand the guitar to one of the nameless roadies and throw my hand up in a grand wave to the crowd.
Ryan winks at me, turning back to his crowd, "Thanks, Brendon!"
I take an exaggerated bow before leaving the stage.
Once I'm off, I can't stop my mind from racing. Was that a bad idea? Are people going to figure us out? Is someone going to out us? Favorite person. Favorite person. Fuck, we are so obvious. The fans already know. Or think they know. About Ryan anyway. But they think he's with Josh. The rumors about me have been there since day one. Hell, the 'not rumors' since they're true. But Ryan and I, a couple? No one knows about that.
For all my talk of wanting to be out, suddenly I'm not sure if I'm ready to share our relationship with the world. It's too sacred, needs to be protected. The press would tear us apart. Can't let that happen. Won't let that happen.
God, he's so fucking dumb. Favorite person. And then he's touching me on stage?
I'm hyperventilating. There isn't any oxygen in the air. I need get outside. Fast.
I run for the staircase I know is at the end of this hall, faster up the stairs, and out the door. I collapse on the ground, pulling my knees to my chest. Concentrate on breathing. Take air in, push air out. Again. Again. Will my heart rate to slow, focus on my surroundings. Naming what I see. Gravel, black pipe coming out of the roof, red brick building next door. I come out of it. Spent. Numb.
I cough, clear my throat. Wish I didn't leave my cigarettes on the bus.
Elton John came out a few years ago. People still like him. Still gets played on fm radio.
But it's not about coming out. Not anymore. I have to protect Ryan. Elton John didn't talk about a relationship. We run in similar circles and I don't know if he has a partner or not. Coming out was about him. Just him. I can't do it. It's not just me.
I feel defeated. All those conversations with Ryan that became fights. I thought I was right to push him. How could I have been so terribly wrong?
Favorite person.
Something so beautiful twisted into something so ugly.
But the kids know. Love Ryan despite it. Or maybe even BECAUSE of it? I heard them myself outside the venue in St Louis.
I need to find Therese.
I stand up and brush myself off. This is not an insane idea. The band is still on stage, I make a beeline for the side of the stage. She's still there, right in front of where Ray stands now.
