9. Declan

NINE

DECLAN

The low hum of the amplifier fills Lennon's studio, merging with the soft rattle of Lars tapping out a rhythm on his snare. I strum a few chords on my guitar, letting the familiar notes drift through the air, but my mind is miles away. There's a buzz of energy tonight, something I can't quite name, but I know it has to do with Savion. He should be here any minute, and the thought sends a jolt of anticipation through me.

I tell myself it's because I want to impress him with the music, but deep down, I know it's more than that. It's something I don't want to admit yet. I already said to myself in a quiet moment that I might be attracted to him—probably. But tonight feels different, like it's more than just a possibility. It's becoming a confirmation.

"Declan, you good?" Lennon's voice cuts through my thoughts. He's adjusting his guitar strap, glancing over at me with a raised eyebrow.

"Yeah," I lie, nodding a bit too quickly. "Just... focused."

Focused on the fact that Savion's about to walk through that door any second, and I have no idea how I'll feel when he does.

The door swings open, and there he is. My breath hitches before I can stop it. Casual as ever—jeans, a t-shirt that fits him just right, and dark-colored sneakers. Nothing special, yet I can't stop staring. He's got this air about him, like he owns the space without even trying, and it pulls me in.

"Evening, guys," Savion greets the room, his voice low, but it carries.

"Hey, Savion," I call out, trying to sound normal while my heart pounds in my chest. "Glad you could make it."

He smiles, and it feels like a punch to the gut. "Wouldn't miss it for the world," he says. God, that smile. Why does it hit me like that?

"Good to see you again, man." Lars grins.

"Good to be here."

As the others continue to engage him, I notice subtle cues in Savion's posture that suggest he might not be entirely at ease. He stands, arms crossed, occasionally fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. His eyes scan the room.

Then his eyes meet mine, just for a moment, and something flares between us before he breaks away, moving to sit in one of the empty chairs by the wall.

"Alright, everyone, let's start," Lennon says, stepping up to the mic. My fingers fumble on the strings, and I have to mentally scold myself to get it together. Lars taps out a steady beat on the drums, setting the tempo for us to follow. I catch Jazz plucking a few experimental bass notes, tuning into the groove.

The music starts to build around us, filling the room with a warm, rich sound. I let myself fall into the rhythm, my fingers sliding over the strings of my guitar. There's a tightness in my chest, not from nerves, but from the weight of Savion's gaze. Every time I look up, I catch him watching me, his expression thoughtful, almost... admiring, like he's studying every movement of my fingers, every note I play. There's something there, something I can't explain, and it's pulling me in deeper.

Would Savion ever even consider being with a man?

The thought catches me off guard, and suddenly, I'm questioning everything. Why am I thinking like this? I've never looked at another guy like this before. But it's not just any guy. It's him .

Lennon's lead guitar soars over the top of the beat, his fingers flying across the fretboard with ease. He's in his element, the frontman through and through, while I hold down the rhythm. Jazz's bass line is smooth, grounding us as Lars leans into a syncopated groove on the drums. The band is locked in, tight, but tonight I feel like there's an extra layer to everything—an unspoken connection weaving its way between the notes, between me and Savion.

The music shifts, and I launch into a solo, fingers dancing along the neck of my guitar. My heart races, not only from the thrill of playing but from knowing Savion's watching. I feel his attention like a tangible thing, pressing in on me. Does he feel this too, whatever this is?

Lennon shoots me a quick look as I wrap up the solo. "You're on fire tonight, Dec," he says, his voice low enough that only I can hear. There's a gleam in his eye, and he smirks like he knows some secret I haven't been privy to yet.

I shrug it off, pretending it's all about the music, but I know better. I can't stop glancing at Savion. I wonder if he's noticing more than just the sound. Does he feel this spark, or am I imagining it?

Lars kicks up the tempo, leading us into a faster, heavier song, and we all fall in line. The energy in the room amps up, the music pulsing through us. I lose myself in it for a moment, but even then, Savion's presence anchors me. I'm hyper-aware of where he is, the way his foot taps to the beat, the way his eyes follow every move I make.

We finish the song, and I glance over at him again. His gaze is still on me, intense and focused, and I'm still wondering—could he ever be attracted to someone like me? I know he was engaged to a woman, so what are the chances he'd ever look at a guy the same way?

Before I can spiral too far down that thought, Lennon calls for a quick break. The guys spread out across the room, chatting or messing with their instruments. I make my way over to Savion, my stomach tight with nerves.

"How's it sound so far?" I ask, trying to keep my tone light.

"Amazing," Savion says, grinning. "You guys are even better live."

"Glad you think so." I pause, rubbing the back of my neck. There's a stretch of silence between us, and I don't know how to fill it without saying something stupid, like asking if he's into guys. Asking if he's into me.

The silence still stretches. A beat too long. His eyes hold mine, like he's waiting for something. And damn, I want to give him whatever he's waiting for.

But could he even want me? Could he ever look at me the way I'm starting to look at him?

I've never felt this way before—this overwhelming pull toward someone, especially a guy. It's new, terrifying even, but I can't deny it any longer. It's not just that I think he's attractive. I want him. The way he moves, the way he smiles, the way he looks at me—it all messes with my head.

Before I can figure out what to say next, Lennon calls us back, saving me from my own awkwardness. As I pick up my guitar again, I catch Savion moving closer to the band, settling into a chair where he has a better view. My heart pounds harder in my chest, but I'm barely paying attention to what I'm supposed to be doing. My fingers play the chords on autopilot, my focus entirely on Savion. His presence is like a magnet, and I can't stop myself from glancing at him between songs. Each time, I find him watching me, and each time, my heart beats faster.

What if he knew? What if he could tell what was going on in my head? Would he laugh? Would he walk away?

I've never thought about my sexuality before—not like this. I always assumed I knew who I was. But now, with Savion in the room, everything feels different. I feel different.

The next song is slower, more introspective, and I pour everything I have into the melody. My fingers slide over the strings with practiced ease, but tonight it feels like I'm playing just for him. Every note, every chord is a question I don't have the guts to ask out loud. Still… still I wonder if he's seeing me differently now, the way I'm starting to see him.

"Damn, Declan," Lennon mutters under his breath during a brief pause in our jam.

My heart skips a beat, and I glare at him. "What?"

Lennon just raises an eyebrow. I roll my eyes and turn my attention back to my guitar, trying to ignore the heat creeping up my neck.

After a few more songs, we wrap up the session. The rest of the band starts packing up, and I find myself alone with Savion for a few moments. The studio, usually buzzing with energy, feels oddly quiet now—just the two of us in the room, while the others linger in another part of Lennon's house, talking.

"Great session," Savion says, leaning against one of the amps. "You guys sounded amazing."

"Thanks."

The warmth in my chest spreads further, reaching down to my fingertips as they rest on my guitar strings. A longer pause settles between us, the kind of moment that feels like it should be filled with something more than words. I'm not sure what to do with the silence, so I laugh lightly and scratch the back of my neck, trying to break the tension. But I can't help wanting to linger in that space a little longer.

"Hey, I'm gonna head out," Savion announces, his voice low. Our eyes meet, and I feel a surge of disappointment and reluctance to let him go.

"Walk you to your car?" I offer, trying to sound casual.

"Sure." A hint of a smile plays on his lips.

As we stroll towards his car, neither of us says much. I want to invite him to come back for another session, to create an excuse to spend more time together, but I hesitate. I don't want to come off as too eager.

"Tonight was fun." Savion breaks the silence with a genuine smile. "You guys are really talented."

"Glad you came?"

"Absolutely."

"See you around?"

Savion's eyes search mine for a moment. "Definitely." He gets in his car and switches on the engine.

"Good night, Declan." His smile is warm, and it lingers as he drives away.

"Night," I whisper, watching until his taillights disappear into the darkness.

"Hey, Dec!" Jazz calls from the doorway. "Let's pack up and get out of here."

"Coming."

Packing up the equipment with Lennon and the guys, I can't shake the feeling lingering in my chest—something between me and Savion has changed. What was once an easy, casual friendship now feels heavier, like there's more beneath the surface, waiting to be uncovered.