5. Arik

Icouldn't stop smiling. Was this even real life?

Driving all night to catch the sights

The lyrics wrote themselves.

I had a platinum record, I was about to leave on tour, and somehow, Varian wanted to be friends. It didn't feel like real life.

When we went backstage, Val was sitting on top of one of the speakers, half watching the headliner play, half talking to some chick who was falling all over herself to get his attention. Val met Varian's eyes and gave him a "you owe me look" as we approached.

"This is Lindsay," Val said. "She does merch and photos for Death Nostalgia."

"Cool, cool." Varian didn't even look at her.

I smiled when he met my eyes. "What do you need help with?"

"We just need to pack up this gear. The guys and I can get it. You can hang out." Varian waved me off. "Chat with... What was your name again? Sorry, ADHD."

"Lindsay." She held out her hand, but Varian had already turned away. It didn't seem like he was being rude, just distracted.

I wondered what had him so. "Nice to meet you. I'm?—"

She cut me off. "Arik. I know who you are."

I took her hand and shook it. "You know me?"

She nodded, dropping her eyes down my body. "I've seen you play. A couple of times. I've toured with a lot of bands."

I couldn't put my finger on what she meant. Either her tour photos were hot shit, or she was a groupie who'd found an in. There were a couple of groupies turned guitar techs, too. And good for them. It was a solid job for those who liked the life but didn't want the uncertainty of selling albums or being the public face.

"You have? Thank you." I never knew how to react to those kinds of statements. It felt weirdly arrogant to say anything but thank you.

"You're good. You've got a new record out, yeah?" She tucked her hands into the tiny pockets of her skinny jeans, tilting her chin down to look up at me through her lashes, softening her whole appearance. At first glance, she looked like no one could fuck with her. She was a mixture of punk and goth chick, tiny with a spiked belt, dyed black hair, and pigtails. She had short bangs, which were really in at the moment, and ivory skin with a ton of dark freckles.

"Yeah, not too long ago."

"So cool. Good for you guys." She bit her lip and smiled, softening her appearance even more.

"How long have you been into photography?"

"Why, are you looking for one?" she asked, sounding hopeful.

"Not having a good time with Death Nostalgia?" I laughed.

She lifted one shoulder noncommittally. "I can't complain except for dropping out of Warped. I was looking forward to that."

"Better for Dopamine-Fiend, though."

"No shit. Lucky turn, but not so much for me." She acted like she was looking for an invite.

"We aren't really in the place to do the whole merch and photog. Maybe someday," I said, also noncommittal.

"You're gonna have to get at least merch for Warped. That's where the money is at."

"Really?"

She nodded vigorously. "Definitely. They do four to five figures a night with merch. Pays for itself."

"I'll have to talk to the guys about it."

She dug into her tiny little purse and pulled out a card. "If you want to chat about it. Not saying you have to use me, but I will tell you what I know."

I took the card from her. "That's really nice of you?—"

Varian cut between us, wearing a scowl. "Ready to bounce?"

My brows pulled. Did he have some sort of issue with Lindsay? "Sure..."

"Sweet. I'll catch you later, Linds."

He half-dragged me out of there and into their van. We had a similar one with the back bench taken out to fit all our gear. Most of us drove something like it. He pulled open the sliding door and waved for me to climb in. He followed and sat next to me in the back. His brother took the driver's seat and their bassist took the front, while their drummer took the space on the bench next to Varian.

Tightly packed in, I tried to put on my seatbelt to find it was broken.

"That one's been fucked for a while."

"Ah, so fitting right into the stereotype of the alternative death trap like all the midwestern housewives tell their children." I shot finger guns at him.

Varian laughed, elbowing me in the side. "Where is the fun without the risk?"

"Aren't we too old for this acting-out stuff? You're letting the intrusive thoughts win." I returned, holding back a laugh.

"Do you have dreams about driving off a bridge, too? How romantic," Val said from the front.

"Mine are into a brick wall. Open water in a car scares me. That's not a comfort." I gave him a big grin in the rearview mirror.

Varian side-eyed me. "Interesting, so you are the instant death kind of intrusive thought type. That tells me a lot."

"Wait, what? There are different types?" I asked, baffled.

"Oh, absolutely. There are all different types. Val has ‘make himself disappear' type, like he wouldn't even know how it happened. He just stops existing. I'm sure if we talked to a professional, the differences would put us each into a different type of fucked-up box. I bet we could classify the entire world with intrusive thoughts." He turned to look at their drummer, Fox. "What type do you have?"

Fox looked up from his book. "What?"

"Intrusive thoughts. What type do you have? Tell me one."

"What's an intrusive thought?"Fox asked.

We all stared at him.

Even Val turned around when he hit a light to look at Fox. "Tell me you're fucking kidding, man?"

Fox shook his head, peering at each of us in turn.

"They are like thoughts of dying or doing something crazy to cause yourself to die. Like every time I drive over a bridge, I think of veering into the water and dying." Varian narrowed his eyes. "So what do you have?"

"Can you give me another example?"

"It can be anything violent or illegal or focused on something traumatic or embarrassing. They can even be sexual or fucked-up or both," I said, trying to help.

"I don't think I've ever had one of those."

Val made a horrified face. "You've never gone over and over something you said in public until you wanted to kill yourself?"

Fox shook his head. "Can't say that I have. That isn't normal…is it?"

"You've never thought about how you could just kill everyone around you?" Bronx added from the front seat, picking glue out of his mohawk.

"No, never." Fox looked at Bronx like he had three heads.

"How about, like, you're bad at your job? Like you really suck at playing the drums."

"Or ones like that there is just a ton of cancer growing inside you and you're going to randomly go to the hospital for a test and get told you have three months to live?" Val pressed, turning back to the road.

"No. Do you think that?" Fox wore a horrified expression.

Val made a sound. "No comment."

"You really never walked behind someone down the stairs or by a balcony and just thought. ‘I could push them'?" Varian asked.

"What the fuck is wrong with all of you?" Fox scooted the three inches away from Varian.

I laughed, which was the worst reaction I could have, but I couldn't help it. "How did you find the only emo drummer on the fucking planet who's never had a fucking intrusive thought? Jesus fucking Christ."

"He's got to be lying," Val muttered. "Everyone has them. They are normal."

"I'm starting to think I've made a mistake getting into the car with you guys." Fox pretended like he was going to open the van door. "If you want to pull over, I'll just get out."

"TELL ME YOU DIDN'T THINK OF THROWING YOURSELF OUT OF THE VAN RIGHT NOW," Bronx screamed from the front seat.

"No! Why the fuck would I do that?" Fox's eyes got huge.

"He really might be the only musician ever who's never had an intrusive thought." Val sounded amazed.

"I don't know how to feel, but it kinda makes me want to kill him," Varian said, wrapping his arms around himself.

I laughed harder as Fox tried to get farther away.

"There is something wrong with all of you."Fox shuddered like his body was trying to ward off evil.

"So wait, are you just happy all the time?" I asked, not sure I understand.

"I think so. Unless I have a really bad day or something. Are you not?"

"I'm not going to comment." I folded my hands in my lap.

"The rest of you?" Fox glanced around.

"There's always some kind of impending dread hanging over my head," Val said.

"I'm happy until I'm not," Bronx adds.

"I'm not even getting into it. I feel like we already have Fox on the edge of quitting."Val shook his head.

It wasn't a long drive from the venue, and we pulled up outside of a red row-house where Varian opened the door. Val hopped out, and Fox jumped into the driver's seat.

"He'll take the van to Jersey," Varian explained. "Bronx lives a few blocks away."

"He's got to drive to Jersey now?" I glanced around because from the little I knew, this was a nice neighborhood.

"It's not far." Varian nodded at the building. "You gotta be quiet. My grandparents will be asleep."

We walked down the stairs to the basement apartment.

Vallen unlocked it but didn't step inside. "I'm going to go have a drink. I'll catch you two later."

"Are you sure? Want us to come with you?" I asked, glancing between the two of them.

"Naw." Val waved me off. "Go chat. I'm meeting up with some friends."

The brothers exchanged a look, but I couldn't make heads nor tails of it. "If you insist."

"If you'd rather go…" Varian started to say, but I shook my head.

"I'm good. I got to save my cash for the gas home." I probably could have made it work, but spending time with just Varian sounded better than being out.

"Right, perfect. We have a bottle of UV."

"It's like you knew I was coming." I toed my shoes off as he closed the door behind us.

"No, I think it's left over from the 90s," Varian deadpanned.

I held up my middle finger before looking around. "This is a nice place."

"It's good if it's not too cold. It's not insulated for shit, like I said."

"At least you have your own space. Isn't it crazy expensive to live in New York?"

"My grandparents bought here in the eighties. So they got it for a steal. The surrounding neighborhoods weren't always the greatest, but we have a good group of people who look out for each other on this block." Varian smiled when he saw my shoes. "So you were raised right, too."

"Who fucking wears shoes in the house?"

"I know, right?" He went to the fridge. "UV and sprite?"

"You have it?" I followed him deeper into the space. It wasn't big, but they used the open space well. Their beds were set up in the back, with draped fabric and beads as a makeshift divider. Kitchen in the middle, and a killer record collection taking most of the focus of the living space. I stopped to flip through. "This is badass."

"I read somewhere you liked it." He acted like it was nothing, but I warmed inside. "Our dad's. One of the few parts of him I have."

"Can I?" I slid out a Nirvana record.

"Please do."

I got it going before joining him. "Your brother upset I'm here?"

Varian lifted his gaze sharply. "No, he's just like that. He doesn't like to intrude. So he's probably just giving us space." There was a bit of hesitation to what he said.

"As long as it's not a problem I stay. I can go sleep in my car…I'm already paying hotel prices to park it."

"Fuck, no. We'd never dream of it. We know how nice it is to have a place to crash after sleeping on people's floors touring for years."

"No shit." I held up my glass.

He did the same. "I'm really glad you came. I was a little worried I'd scared you away."

"Because…"

He tore his gaze away and lifted a shoulder. "I overshared."

"Nah, I liked it. It felt like being real with someone for the first time. No mask. No bullshit. Not many people do that. It made me feel like—" I stopped myself, knowing I probably sounded dumb.

"Finish." Varian's eyes held so much, I couldn't say no.

"It made me feel like I could be myself, too."

He smiled again. "Let's sit."

We ended up sprawled out on the oversized sofa with the lights off, the room only illuminated by the streetlights leaking through the cracks in the curtains and a ceiling of glow stars, listening to records, taking turns picking them.

"You have my record." I slid it out to look at the cover.

"I bought it after talking to you that night," he said not making eye contact. Was he embarrassed? "It's a really good record."

It made me both curious and scared of the things in his head. I wanted to know him more."You honestly like it?"

"I wouldn't lie to you." He shoved to his feet, taking it from my hands to put it on the record player. "Your pain whispers familiar."

"What is it about broken people that we recognize each other?"

"We feel like home and whole people can never understand the pain layered under our skin. It's too hard to explain it to them. They are exhausting." Varian set the vinyl spinning, and we both watched the colors swirl like a star exploding.

"And we become artists to share our pain with others like us, so we know we aren't alone." I turned away so he wouldn't see the emotion on my face.

"In another century, you would have been an opera singer."

"No way. I don't have the range for that." I smiled in spite of myself.

"Helping another generation of broken kids survive long enough to create."

"Ain't that the fucking truth. Last year, I wanted to swallow every pill I had instead of taking one more test heading full speed toward a light I didn't want. I listened to ‘No Leaf Clover' off SM on repeat so much, I broke the fucking tape." I hummed the chorus.

"To remind yourself there isn't a white light?"

"To tell myself the white light is a myth. Like maybe—" I paused, lost in thought. "It's a reminder that there is no easy out of anything. Even death is just passing off your pain. It's not getting rid of it. It doesn't solve anything. And I don't want to give my burden to anyone else."

"Fuck, that's deep. I need to smoke a bowl and think about that for a few hours." Varian laughed.

I forced a smile. "I don't mean to be like that. I don't want to ruin your night?—"

He cut me off. "Don't you fucking dare. The night we met, I trauma-dumped on you; I don't think anything is off limits with us."

"I'll take that bowl now if you really have one."

"Fuck, yes. But we got to smoke outside, though. I swear my gran has the nose of a fucking drug dog. She'd be out of a dead sleep and down here in half a second." He slid out a couple of records to retrieve a box wedged behind them.

"Is she like that because of your parents?"

"She buys into all the bullshit that it's a gateway drug. Like my mom's fucking meth problem was anything other than my dad's doing." He packed the bowl and stepped outside.

I took a seat on the steps next to him as he held a lighter to the bowl. "Mine probably would too if they knew anything about it. But they are pretty isolated from drug use in their world. Not too many lawyers know anything about doing hard drugs. Maybe coke, but we don't talk about what the rich white people do for fun."

"Touché."

"How did things end up going with Nicole?" He passed the bowl.

My upper lip curled. "She's been telling me it was a mistake and trying to get me to work things out. She even offered me a free pass, which is a fucking lie. She'd never be okay with me sleeping with someone else."

His head snapped around, eyes narrowing. "How do you feel about it?"

That didn't feel like what he really wanted to say.

"I don't know. I told her I was taking the summer off. I wasn't going to fight the whole time I was gone and have her blowing up my phone because she sees a picture of some stupid shit." I took another hit, then draped myself over the stairs.

"You're allowed to feel what you're feeling."

I picked up my head to look at him. "What?"

"Your feelings are valid, whatever they are. Hurt, anger, still loving her. It's all allowed."

My forehead creased. "Thank you."

Varian shifted to lean back next to me in the tiny stairwell, shoulder to shoulder. "You're welcome."

"I'm going to do what I want for the summer. Maybe I'll feel better after I fuck a bunch of strangers."

He laughed, but it was strained. "You think?"

"You tell me? You're the one who was on a massive tour. How was it?"

He thought for a long time before answering, but I didn't press, waiting for his answer. "It got old fast. Maybe it's for some people. I like to drink and hang out, but there is also something extremely lonely about it. It lacks connection." He shifted, causing our shoulders to rub together, sending a bolt of electricity through my veins. "You lived in the scene. Grew up in it like I did. You had it too. I don't think it's that different on tour."

"I don't do well alone. I bounced around a lot before I met Nicole and hated it." I sighed.

"She was a scene girl but hated it?"

"That was an act for her social media. She liked the persona while dating me."

"Why?"

"I don't know." I didn't understand it, so I couldn't really explain it. "So what you're telling me is I'll be miserable on this break?"

"Nah, you'll have me. You won't be alone."

I twisted, drawing us closer. "I'm a needy motherfucker. Don't tempt me."

"I like it."

We went back inside and our music choices turned slow. Val came home but went back to his bed, giving Varian a silent look as he passed. Varian lifted his shoulders, clearly answering some question. They were closer than my brother and I.

We settled on the couch, talking about our lives and bands, the ways we wrote music, and everything in between.

"What was that look?" I asked.

"Nothing." He fought a smile I didn't understand.

"Still not going to tell me your kinks?" I asked, redirecting if he wasn't going to answer.

"What do you want to know?" His voice was husky with sleep.

"By the lake you said something about your kinks… What did you mean?"I'd been dying to ask him.

"Who doesn't like when someone says please." Varian laid his head back and turned it to look at me. "The weed is inhibiting all my good judgment so I'm answering instead of pretending to be asleep."

"Too late to take it back." I felt warm all over. "I have so many questions."

"You'll have to wait ‘til Warped. I'll answer them there."

"Deal."

The perfect night.

I wanted a million more as we drifted.

"I should give you the couch, let you have room."

"Don't go," I murmured.

"Are you sure?"