Big Ugly Story Starters

Peter and Robert Black Rebel Motorcycle Club

On a considerably hot November in Sao Paulo, Peter sits backstage and licks his lips, staring off into space. He only has an hour until B.R.M.C hit the stage, and he knows an hour can pass quickly if one gets lost in their own head. The outside, though, is impossible to shut out on events like SWU Festival. He can hear the masses of people coming and going around him, he feels in his mind that the place would be awash with humidity not only due to the weather, but to the masses of people crowding it, emitting warmth towards each other.

He can hear footsteps clicking their way in his direction, but he doesn't look around to see where they come from. The next thing he knows, he feels a light touch of a hand on his shoulder. He looks up to his side - and just like he thought, it was Robert, smiling chirpily at him as usual. Peter looks back at Robert with a mixture of amusement and tetchiness.

"Why are you so nervous?" Robert asks, looking down at Peter.

"I'm not, I'm just excited. It's the good kind of restlessness."

Robert nods. "OK. To be honest, I stopped by because you looked like you could use a massage. But if you don't feel tense or whatever, don't feel obliged to say yes."

"I could always use a massage," Peter says, looking back at him surprised.

Robert immediately puts his other hand on Peter and starts working on Peter's stiff neck and shoulders vigorously. "If I'd known you've always wanted a massage, I would have given you one before every show."

Peter throws his head back, closing his eyes and letting out a low moan. "You never asked," he grumbles, nearly inaudibly.

"And you never said anything," Robert says. "It seems like there are a lot of things that are left unsaid between us."

"Mmm," Peter says, thinking about nothing in particular, and concentrating on the touch of Robert's hands.