In Tune: The Road to Rocktoberfest 2022, page 5
His dad took off, jogging past the windows of the café toward Dusty Strings. He’d closed the shop for lunch just so they could all see Dean off.
“We were just there, what did he forget?” Luka wondered out loud.
“Well, I have no idea but it’s time to get out to the car,” Dean’s mom announced.
So now, here they were, waiting awkwardly outside The Hook beside the huge SUV Dean’s mom had arrived in. Dean’s stuff was already packed inside, and it really was time for him to leave.
Finally, Neb reappeared, holding a guitar case. Luka’s breath hitched and Dean stilled. When he was close enough, he held the case out to Dean.
“The guitar we talked about.”
They hadn’t talked about giving Dean a guitar, not once. Dean stared at the guitar for a moment before taking the instrument from Neb.
“Mr. Gajić…” Dean blinked, his eyes suspiciously damp.
“Music is good for the brain,” Neb said as an aside to Marigold and Charlotte. As if that was the reason he was giving Dean an instrument worth a couple hundred dollars, not because he’d recognized a deep need in Luka’s best friend.
“Well, Dean,” Charlotte said abruptly, “thank the man so we can get off this rock. I don’t know what you do here all summer.”
“Thank you, thank you so much.”
They climbed into the car, Dean’s mom not even bothering to say goodbye again. The last words Luka heard were, “Put that thing in the back.”
Dean was leaving until next year—if his parents let him come back—and Luka felt empty and lonely already. Understanding his mood, Neb wrapped an arm around his shoulders and squeezed.
“He will be back, son.”
Pressing his lips together, Luka could only nod because he was not going to cry. At least not in public.
Marigold nodded too, glancing at Luka with a smile. “He will. I read the cards, I know. I swear though, Charlotte is almost a more terrible person than Chuck. Her aura.” She shivered dramatically, making Luka wonder just what she saw. But also, he didn’t want to know because now that he’d met Dean’s mother, he wished he never had.
“What guitar did you give him, Tata?”
Neb still had his arm around Luka but was watching the SUV disappear onto the ferry.
“What? Oh, the Epiphone acoustic.”
Present day
Dean
An insect buzzed insistently. Dean pried opened one eye, intending to smack at the bug, and quickly slammed it shut again. His head pounded and the ambient light acted like a dagger to his brain. When he could lift his head, the fly was going to die.
“Fucking hell, what happened?” he said aloud.
There was more frantic buzzing, then a faint whimper reached his ears, followed by a groan. Dean risked opening his eyes again and rolled his head–very carefully–to the side so he could see who’d made the sound. He hoped he knew the person.
Jerome lay on the other bed in the room, his arm flung over his face.
“What time is it?” Dean asked.
“Fuck if I know,” Jerome rasped.
With extreme care, Dean sat up. The room spun, so he waited a second for the dizziness to pass and then peered around. There was no one else in the room, just the two of them.
Thank fuck.
Wait.
He looked again, making sure.
“Where’s Luka?” he asked.
Something niggled at the back of his mind, something important.
“Same answer.”
“You don’t know what happened after the show?”
He remembered that the show had been incredible. They’d been lit, playing their hearts out, the fans on their knees. Maybe not literally, but still. If there’d been a roof over their heads, it would have been blown off. They’d played three encores and every song in their library before finally bowing off the stage. Afterward was where things got dicey for Dean. Probably the Fireball hadn’t helped. He grimaced. God, he needed to brush his teeth.
Nick had shared a spliff with him before they… What had happened? Dean shook his head to try and jog a memory. Blacking out was not good. Once the high of the show had dwindled, all he’d been able to think about was how Cassidy had ditched him and he was a worthless POS.
“Cassidy,” he muttered glumly.
“No,” corrected Jerome, “she was not there, although we all learned more than we wanted to know about your ex-fiancé.”
Dean stared at Jerome, wondering exactly what he’d said about Cassidy.
“You guys don’t understand.”
Jerome rolled onto his side, his sleepy gaze focused on Dean. “I may not have been a four-point student in school, but even I get that you can be an idiot when it comes to relationships. Personally, I think you need to take a break from proposing marriage and think about what you really want before you try again. And who.”
Dean flopped onto his back to stare at the ceiling. Jerome possibly had a point, even if Dean didn’t want to admit it out loud.
“You come from a big family, right?” he asked.
Dean knew Jerome did. When they’d played in Seattle, his sisters and parents had always come to the shows and treated Jerome like he was something special.
“Youngest of five. And too many cousins to count.”
“You ever want to tie the knot?”
As far as Dean knew, Jerome never dated.
“It’s complicated.”
“What, you in love with your first cousin or something?”
Jerome snorted and then moaned.
“Just know it’s complicated, okay?”
Something in his tone had Dean tucking that question away for later.
“Except for playing music, all I’ve ever wanted is family.”
HIs statement was met with silence. Then Jerome said, “And what? We’re chopped liver? Except for the newbie, we’ve pretty much spent the last eight years in each other’s pockets. Being in a band is a lot like being married. And how long have you known Luka? ”
“A long time,” Dean acknowledged.
Years, ever since Dean had thrown a fit about going to beauty pageants with his sister when he was twelve or so, and ended up being shipped off to his cousin’s house for the summer. But his cousin had been at his mom’s, so Dean had been shipped even farther away. The best thing his mother ever did.
“How is Luka not family?”
“He’s… Luka.” There was no way to explain how Dean felt about him. Of course he was family, he was more than family. Speaking of those he loved... “Where’s Frank?”
“Oh, dude. I wondered when you’d get there. Everybody fucking owes me. I don’t care if I lost when Chris said to guess a number, the rest of the guys owe me.”
Dean sat up and stared at his roommate.
“Where is Frank?” he repeated. “Where is everyone? God, I need some water.”
There was no way the rest of the band was staying wherever he and Jerome were. Now that he was more alert, Dean recognized the rumble of semi-truck engines as they sped past the hotel. The interstate was likely just outside their door.
Jerome sat up too, a resigned expression settling on his face.
“Frank and Luka are possibly in Washington State by now. The rest of the band is back in the desert, or maybe,” he added, glancing over at the digital clock that announced it was almost noon, “they’re heading to their homes for the break.”
Okay. Dean struggled to brush away the cobwebs obscuring his memory. What had happened?
“Did I do something stupid?”
Laughter was not what he expected, although maybe he should have.
A fraction of a memory popped from Dean’s reluctant brain. Luka shaking his head, a sad but resigned expression on his handsome face. “I’m done.”
“Did Luka… leave?” he whispered the words, hoping that would make them not be true.
“Cha-ching! Gold star for you.” Jerome swung his feet off the bed and stood up. “First dibs on the shower.”
Dean lay there, stunned, still not able to remember exactly what had happened. The bathroom door shut and the shower turned on while Dean wondered how badly he’d messed up this time.
Something bad enough that the one person he truly depended on had left him behind.
He was still laying there when Jerome reemerged, a towel wrapped around his hips. Flopping over to give him some privacy, Dean asked the question of the hour.
“What am I doing wrong, Jerome? Why does this keep happening?”
There was a rustling while Jerome got dressed and then the mattress dipped.
“I’m starting to think that whole guess-a-number thing was rigged,” Jerome complained.
“Well?” he prompted, not wanting a thesis on how Jerome had been stuck watching over him, even if he maybe deserved it.
“Last night, you told us all how Cassidy accused you of being in love with Luka instead of her.”
“And? I mean she did.” Dean frowned. “And he is my best friend. Of course I love him.”
“Dude.” Another huge sigh.
At this rate, Jerome was going to use up all the oxygen in their room.
“I’ve never been in love myself, but I’ve heard through the grapevine that when a person is in love, the person they are in love with is their best friend.” Dean rolled over to stare at Jerome, who raised his hand, palm out. “I’m not saying that all best friends are romantically in love with each other, but in your case, we—er, the band, and Chris, too—think you need to take a hard look at how you feel about Luka. Is it possible you have feelings toward him you haven’t come to terms with?”
“He’s my best friend,” Dean repeated. Another vague memory was rolling around in his brain but when he tried to remember, it eluded him. It felt important, like he needed to bring it into the light.
“Like I said, we all think you need to take a hard look at yourself. To be honest, when I first met you and Luka, I thought you were together-together. And when I figured out you weren’t, I was surprised because you just seem to fit. And—”
“But I’m not bi,” he protested weakly. That’s what Dean needed, one more thing his family would hate about him. It was bad enough he had chosen to move to LA and start a band with Luka and Milo instead of going to college. Not that his mom complained when she needed money.
Quit fooling yourself, Dean, a knowing voice whispered in his head. You were jealous of Luka’s one and only serious relationship. You like having him all to yourself. Once Dean had allowed himself to imagine Luka and No-Name together—kissing, touching—and had been surprised how possessive he felt. Luka was his.
When he’d removed No-Name from the equation, Dean had gotten hard thinking about just Luka in his bed, hard enough to jerk off. Afterward, Dean had convinced himself he’d gotten hard because of a dry spell between girlfriends. And the whole possessive thing was because Luka was his, his best friend.
That reasoning didn’t explain the times Dean had caught himself eyeing Luka’s lean body and watching for the kind smile that was reserved for Dean. The times Luka was the only person he wanted to talk to. The only one who always looked at Dean like he mattered. Until last night, Dean abruptly recalled.
“It seems like there’s a question mark there, my friend. Are you really sure about that? I mean, dude, you are in Luka’s space all the time. Have you ever let yourself think about Luka, like, as more than your best friend?”
He had. But he’d done his best to lock up those feelings up and toss away the key. What was okay for Brendon Urie or Bowie was not okay for Dean Blanchett. Something in his expression must have been telling because Jerome didn’t hesitate to pounce on it.
“I knew it.” He poked him in the ribs with a long finger, causing Dean to flinch. “I’ve been telling the guys for years that your hyper-focus on getting married to a woman is because you are in denial.”
Dean stared into his friend’s eyes, seeing nothing but truth, kindness, and maybe a bit of irritation. He let himself ponder Jerome’s words. He didn’t think he was in denial so much as… things were hard enough already.
“I mean, I have thought about Luka that way. But he’s my best friend.” Dean didn’t think it was odd he found men attractive, but it didn’t mean he wanted to have sex with all of them. Women were easy, until they broke up with him, while Luka? Luka would be complicated, was complicated. Dean worked fucking hard to keep his life simple.
“And you don’t want to ruin that friendship.”
Jerome was right. He was also irritatingly perceptive.
“I didn’t, I still don’t. But there’s also my mom and sister. And my dad, I suppose. I’m already less-than in their eyes. It’s stupid, I guess, to want them to like me, and they already don’t like Luka. Pretty sure Charlotte and Channing only talk to me for money and—” He shrugged, not finishing his sentence. He hadn’t spoken to his dad in years.
Jerome nodded. “Something my granny used to say to me. ‘Jerome, you are the only one who is going to live your life. Don’t go living it for someone else’s pleasure.’”
“She sounds like a smart lady.”
“She was. I miss her all the time.”
Dean lifted one arm and sniffed his pit, then grimaced. “I need a shower.”
“You do,” Jerome agreed, “but it’s check-out time.”
“Aw, dude, you’re an asshole.” He flopped down on the bed again.
“You snooze, you lose.”
“I guess I have some stuff to think about,” Dean allowed as he rolled over and stood up. Like, was he really bi? All signs pointed to yes. But was he ready to admit it? And, if so, was he going to go find Luka and apologize for being a moron? And once he did that—because yes, he was gonna have to apologize—did he want to take the next step, and see if Luka wanted more? Just thinking about it made his already pounding headache turn up the volume.
His legs wobbled and he steadied himself. “Oh, man, do you have any aspirin?”
Luka
Unlimited mileage, he kept repeating to himself as the rented SUV widened the distance between him and the band. Between him and Dean Blanchett.
“No big deal,” he muttered when the sign announcing he’d entered Oregon flashed by.
Sure, he could have flown home, but he couldn’t imagine Frank trapped in his crate for hours in the cargo hold of an airplane. And no way was Luka leaving Frank behind, even if taking him along bordered on dognapping. Frank only loved Dean more because Dean was the “fun” parent, not the responsible one.
Maybe it was time to stop using words that implied more of a relationship than he and Dean had.
Instead, he’d begged Chris to drop him at a car rental place near the airport at an ungodly hour in the morning. Usually, Luka had to stay up all night to see the predawn light.
“You’re sure about this?” Chris had asked, his tone unusually kind.
Luka had nodded. “I’m sure. I’d promised myself I’d stay through the end of this part of the tour. It will be easy enough to find a new tech. The guys killed it last night, people will be begging to work for them.”
Chris sighed as he gripped the steering wheel. “Dean. Does he know?”
At that moment, Luka hadn’t known Dean’s location and was angry enough he almost didn’t care. But the problem was really just the opposite.
“I’ve mentioned it before and I told him again last night, after the show.” When I told him I loved him. Thank fuck Dean had been too drunk to possibly remember that part. Luka hoped.
“He wasn’t in any state to remember much more than his name after the show. And even that’s debatable,” Chris confirmed.
This was the truth. Dean had come off the stage high from the show and kept going. Dean was the party and the party was Dean. At least he didn’t insist on playing The Who and lighting shit on fire. As far as Luka knew anyway.
“Is he okay?”
Luka hated that he was worried about him, that his overactive imagination could spin out all sorts of grim endings for Dean when he was partying. Or mourning the latest breakup.
“He’s fine. Jerome was in charge of him last night.”
Luka felt a smile play across his lips. “Jerome, huh? That’s good. None of The Who then? It’s usually The Kids Are Alright.”
He was glad to hear Jerome had stuck with Dean the night before. Jerome talked big about tough love, but he was actually a marshmallow inside. He’d make sure Dean was safe.
Chris laughed. “No Magic Bus turned to eleven and no bonfires. Thank fuck is all I have to say.”
If he’d been on his own, Luka would have driven straight through to the ferry but as it was, it took him two full days of driving and a lot of stops at grassy spots because Frank only had so much patience for the car. Far too much time for Luka to brood.
Dean did not text or call.
Of course, that was probably because Luka had been so angry catching him texting Cassidy while Luka was yelling at him that he’d snatched Dean’s phone from his hand, thrown it to the ground, and stomped on it.
Not Luka’s finest moment.
And he’d yelled at Dean. Yelled. Luka didn’t yell, not ever.
It had felt like a dam breaking, all the frustration built up inside him spilling out in a rushing torrent. Luckily, or not, Dean had been so far gone by that time—drunk, high, or both—he’d just stared at Luka, watching his lips move like Luka was speaking a foreign language. When Luka had run out of steam, Dean had eyed him with a glazed expression and returned to talking about the show with Kyle and the other bands they were partying with. Probably completely forgetting Luka had destroyed his phone and accidentally confessed to loving him.
Luka hated to yell. And he especially hated yelling at Dean. Yelling at his best friend was like yelling at a puppy or a fence post, depending on Dean’s state of mind.
He almost hated that he loved him.
What the fuck was with that? Sixteen fucking years and Luka had yet to meet someone who eclipsed Dean in his heart? Apparently his heart was stuck on repeat and there was nothing he could do about it.
