When We Were Us

Chapter 6

*~*2013 - New Year's Eve (David POV)*~*

Following the final 2013 show, we lined up at the front of the stage. Jon's fist clenched around my shirt behind me and I held him tight to my side. We all linked hands as the audience sang to us and bowed, forcing smiles for photos with Bergman.

No one really had a lot to say as we descended below the stage. Jon was right behind me and I could hear him coughing. It was a flurry of towels and water. I reached my hand behind and felt his sweaty fingers lock with mine.

Matt led the herd to the convoy of Escalades, I took Jon into one and shut the door. We sat down and Jon could do nothing but fall crying into my arms. His body shook with his sobs and his voice was shot. Luckily, he never had to say much for me to understand.

"L-Le-Lema..." He choked out once, but I shushed him.

"Just be quiet and relax, Johnny...I love you," I whispered and his tears soaked through my t-shirt. The car ride back to the hotel was short and we snuck in through the underground car park, rode the elevator to the top floor and stepped out into a plush corridor.

I could tell his physical strength was gone as I carried him to the hotel suite, locking the door after placing the 'Do Not Disturb' sign outside. He said nothing as I undressed us both and brought him into the shower with me.

He stood under that hot water and leaned against me as I lathered up his hair and body. Fuck... he didn't even have the strength to lift his hands. "I haven't felt this drained since 1990," he confessed. It wasn't necessary though. I'd known this for weeks, but Jon never wanted to stop.

Jon couldn't tell the band when we might meet up for a studio session because Jon himself didn't even know that answer. The music just wasn't in him. We were all desperate to get as far from the madness, and reminders of Richie, as possible.

Once I dried him off and room service had arrived, our robes lay forgotten over the table and my legs tangled with Jon's on the king size bed. The rest of that night was a blur of lovemaking and wine, tears, and kisses. That beautiful man rode me until we were crying out in release, his nails digging into me.

His tears and my embrace comforted him to sleep, giving me a chance to book a private jet for us on my phone. After all, I didn't wanna disturb him by getting out of bed. His body was just too warm to leave. A month away from all the bullshit was what Jon needed.

Before anyone protests that he needed to be at home or making contact with Richie, I'll say shut the fuck up. I know Jon and I know what he needs.

I watched Jon roll over in my arms the next morning, pulling me into his lips. "Morning, DB." His breath is warm as he groans. I wake him up with small kisses along his collarbone and chest, dipping beneath the covers and bringing my man up to heaven.

Yeah, I said, 'my man'. No matter how much I tried to push it off, he is and was. We don't talk about the future. Just the here and now. I can give him what he needs and he gives me what I've been denying myself.

We take our time in the shower and get dressed. From the suite down to the car and through heavy traffic to the airport, he holds my hand like a drowning man grips a lifeline. Vicky doesn't ask questions aboard the jet, she never does.

It's a long flight from Brisbane to the St Barth airstrip. Jon and I drink and kiss for the most part. If he doesn't care to talk, I don't force it but he knows I'll listen. Ever since the night I said that I love him, Jon's grasped onto that. Hell, so have I. It feels good to love someone again.

"What's that smile for?" Jon's looking over at me, stroking my cheek with his thumb. I pull him closer and kiss his lips sweetly.

"For you and this escape from reality with you." Okay, so that might sound a little lame. I wait for him to laugh. He doesn't. Instead, he props himself on his elbow and plays with my curly hair, twisting a strand around his finger and letting it spring back again.