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NOTE: Told from Jonny's POV.
Our first night back on the performing scene was nerve-wracking for all of us. It was one of the biggest crowds we'd had yet, and there were still masses outside fighting to get in. We each dealt with it in our own ways: Guy with giddy excitement, Will with dry sarcasm, myself with tense silence, and Chris... well... Chris just wigs out before a show, and this was no exception. Definitely no exception.
Half an hour before curtain, I was leaning against a dank-smelling wall, lost in my own thoughts, when Chris skittered up to me. Honestly, that's the only word I can think of for it: skittering. His limbs were taut, whole body quaking from the inside out, eyes brimming with nervous tears, voice hoarse with excitement.
"Jon," he moaned, falling into my arms. "I don't know if I can do this."
My heart leapt into my throat, and I wrapped my arms around his skinny waist. I tried to put all the love in my being into that simple gesture, but apparently Chris wasn't feeling very receptive, because an instant later he shook off the halo of my arms and paced a tight circle in front of me.
"Sure you can do this," I told him, folding my rejected arms in front of my chest. "Sure you can. You did it before. You've done a billion times before. Why should this be any different?"
But I was lying, and both of us knew it. This *was* different. Everything was different, always would be from here on - everything had changed. We just had to accept the new way of functioning: Chris a trauma survivor, he and I on considerably more intimate terms than anyone had planned, and a strange cloud of doom that the media seemed to enjoy placing over our heads. They wrenched whatever filthy rumor from us that they could, and it was wearing on Chris' already thin patience. We had to watch our step now. We were treading on precarious ground in the public eye.
"I... don't... I..." Chris looked at a total loss for anything to say. "I don't know. Kiss me."
I laughed then at the simplicity of his request, the way he said it; and then I obliged. I can say now that there are probably very few things in the world better than kissing Chris Martin. He had the softest, sweetest, sexiest mouth that I had ever encountered.
He was pressing up against me in the most provocative way, our mouths locked and engaged in violent war, when I heard something rustle behind him. I paid it no mind - it was noisy in here anyway - and happily explored the territory of his body I already knew so well. I slid my hands up the length of his back, taking the hem of his shirt with me, and he shivered just a bit.
But then it rustled again. Something that sounded suspiciously like a footstep, a cautious sneaky footstep, reached my ears. I cracked open one eye, sucking lightly on Chris' bottom lip (he loved that trick, melted in my arms whenever I did it), and from the corner of my eye I spotted a dark pair of trainers standing in the doorway. Their wearer was hidden in shadows, but the shoes themselves looked familiar... So familiar that I almost kicked myself for not placing them right away. Frayed shoelaces, the shoes themselves coming apart at the seams... Shit! Where? Where had I seen those before?
Chris' hand traveled into the front of my trousers and my attention was immediately diverted from the footwear of our watcher. Probably just some kinky roadie. I decided it was too late anyway, and in all honesty it didn't bother me that much. But it would bother Chris, so even after our little backstage romp ended and the big moment of our arrival came, I didn't mention it. I had even almost forgotten completely, when I noticed Guy kneeling to tie his shoes.
So that's where I'd seen those dark trainers before. I swallowed my shock, but it must have showed in my eyes; when Guy stood up and saw my face, he looked momentarily guilty.
"What, Buckland?" he asked me with a curt tip of his chin.
I shook my head, saying nothing, turning my face away. In the thick shadows, Chris sought out my hand and gave it a squeeze for reassurance. I squeezed back half-heartedly, feeling sick to my stomach.
Shit. Shit shit shit shit.
And then we were on.
- - -
The venue, though unusually large, emptied out quickly. There were the customary stragglers waiting for autographs and pictures and whatnot, but I think they could see our fatigue and most did not stay to chat. In only a matter of hours, it would be light again anyway. I'm sure they had homes to get back to, jobs to go to early in the morning.
Chris and I dragged ourselves back to the tour bus, leaning on each other for support, and I turned this new problem over in my mind like a Rubik's Cube - try though I might, I could not find a solution. None of the colours would match up. The only difference was that, in real life, if you got too fed up, you could just take a hammer to the damn thing. But somehow I doubted that same method would work on Guy.
So once we were on the bus - which was empty, and would stay that way for the next half an hour or so while everyone packed up the stuff onstage - I told Chris to sit on his bed. I sat across from him on what was actually Will's bed, and just breathed for a second. I know I said that the notion of people knowing about me and Chris, our "item" status, didn't bother me. But this... Guy finding out... That was something way over my head.
"Chris, I have to... tell you something." I took another deep breath.
A sudden, devastating look of panic transformed Chris' face. I almost wanted to laugh at how quickly he jumped to conclusions, but then I realized that panic was probably an appropriate response in this case, and I bit back my laughter. "All right, well, y'know... before the show... when you got all nervous and came to me?"
Chris nodded gravely, and I could see a hundred different emotions in his eyes. He was debating which one to pick.
"Well, we were kissing, and I heard something... like a footstep or... I don't know. Yeah, it was a footstep. And I looked over... and..."
Chris had picked his emotion: mortification. Yes, "mortification" would just about cover it.
"Ohmygod," he breathed. "Someone? Someone was there!"
I nodded.
"Who was it?" he demanded, his eyes wide.
I took a deep breath, running a hand over my eyes despairingly. "It was... Guy, Chris. It was Guy."
And then to my immense bewilderment, he began to giggle. I looked at him, completely sure this last comment had driven him round the bed, but he looked sane to me. Relieved, actually.
"What?" I shook his shoulder slightly. "What's funny?"
"Oh, Jonny... Jonny... You had me so worried! I thought it was someone from the press or something!" He sprawled back on his starched bed, chest heaving with laughter, cheeks flushed.
I still wasn't in on the joke. "Chris! It was Guy, for fuck's sake! How the hell do you think he'll react?"
Chris shook his head, propping himself up on an elbow. "I already know how, Jonny. I told him a few days ago. He looked like something had crawled up his arse and died, but he didn't say anything ill of it." He looked mighty pleased with himself; gleeful even.
"You told him? But you didn't tell *me* you told him?!" I huffed.
"Well... I dunno, he kind of got it out of me. He was royally pissed when he heard that the two of us were moving in together and no one had told him that - he had learned it from a tabloid or some rubbish - and then naturally he wanted to know why. So I just told him." Chris shrugged as if our little scandal were the most normal thing in the world.
I can't say his rather flippant attitude angered me, really, but it certainly irked me. "I thought you said you didn't want anyone to know!"
Chris sat up all the way now and leaned forward to give me a little kiss. "We'll tell the world when we're ready. If we're ready. If *I'm* ready," he added, looking at me pointedly. "But Guy... well, he deserves to know."
"You're right." I ran my thumb along his jawline, and he nearly purred like a cat. I grinned, asking, "Does Will know?"
Chris shrugged, eyes half-closed. "Dunno... Maybe. D'you want to tell him?"
"Sure. Not today, though. I've got to talk to Guy first." I pressed my lips to his in a quick, chaste kiss, but he captured my face between his hands and turned it into a fiery, open-mouthed ordeal.
When we pulled apart we were both breathless, his lips rosy and slick and tempting me to dive in again for another kiss, but the bus door swung open and we pushed away from each other before I could grant myself the pleasure.
I saw it was Guy who stepped through the tiny portal and felt a little uneasy, but crushed that quickly and scolded myself for it. Guy was one of my best friends, my bandmate, a man I'd likely be spending most of the rest of my life traveling around the world and making music with. I could not afford to develop a sudden distrust for him at this point. If I did, it would be the death of Coldplay, of that I was certain. And not only that, but the death of a wonderful friendship.
'So just shut your flapping yap, Buckland,' I snapped mockingly at myself. 'Be a man.'
Guy saw the two of us on either bed, regarded both of us with slightly nervous dark eyes, and cleared his throat.
But it was me who spoke first. "I know what you know, Guy," I said. Oh, bloody hell. What a pompous way to say it.
The nervousness in his eyes grew, and there was a pain in my chest. He was frightened by us? Disgusted? I can't tell... but the way he looked as if he itched to just be away, anywhere but standing in front of us. It *hurt.*
Chris stood and explained himself clearly, in that informal formal way of his. This was Guy, after all. 'Our best friend,' I thought wistfully, remembering the fright in his fawn eyes as he looked from Chris' face to my own.
"Look, Guy, it's not like... well, I mean, Jonny's the only guy I've ever felt like this about. Look, he's like a big teddy bear with issues!" Chris laughed, waving a hand at me. I made a face. Teddy bear with issues? Good heavens, I think not.
Guy cracked a smile - slightly uneasy, but it was progress.
"You aren't freaked out by it or anything, are you?" I asked him. Best to be frank about it.
Guy shook his head.
'Say something! *Tell* me you aren't scared of us!' I cried silently.
And as if he heard my silent plea, Guy cleared his throat again, softer this time. "You don't freak me out... I was just... surprised. And then again, I wasn't. I saw it coming, in some subconscious way, but I wasn't exactly *expecting* it, you know?" His eyes pleaded for us to understand. I didn't, but I could tell by the way Chris nodded that he did.
"It's okay, Guy... Just as long as you don't think of us any different." Chris smiled widely, innocently, and reached out to squeeze Guy's shoulder reassuringly.
Something flashed across Guy's features that set off just about every single internal alarm I had. Something the complete opposite of disgust. Attraction, lust, love, wanting, longing, yearning. Something carnal. Undeniable. I stood up so fast I nearly knocked my head on the frame of the bunk above me, and Guy's gaze jerked to me with a frightened jump. Guilt was scrawled all over his boyish features. He looked like a murderer caught red-handed - or in this case, a customer eyeing the goods that weren't for sale.
In that instant, I felt something primal twisting in my gut. Well, perhaps not primal, but deeply territorial. If Guy dared interfered with anything I had worked so bloody hard to earn with Chris, I knew whatever happened after that I could not be held responsible for. I had to warn him off somehow, without seeming too obvious... When Chris wasn't there with us.
While in my own little world, Chris and Guy had been talking, mildly discussing something or other. I gave myself a mental shake and waited for a lull in the conversation to announce that I was tired, heading to bed, goodnight. I gave them both an admittedly cold smile and retreated to the farther section of the bus, where my bunk was. I could hear the soft murmur of their voices for a while longer (no, I didn't go to sleep; I couldn't) and then Will boarded the bus, followed by Phil and two roadies and then everyone either settled in for sleep or hauled out the party stuff.
After about what I'd roughly call half an hour, I was just nearly in the clutches of sleep when I felt the thin mattress beneath me shift with familiar weight. An instant later, long, comforting arms were wrapped around me. I nuzzled my face into an oh so familiar neck, pressed my lips to the warm skin. Breathed him in.
I was reminded of a quote I had seen once in a book somewhere. The name of the book, the author - even the context of the quote were lost on me. But the words, beautifully imploring, had jumped out at me and stuck ever since.
"Oh Lord, my God, let these things never end," I breathed softly, running my fingers over his collarbone. He shivered against me.
Please, let this never end, because I've found my happiness.
TO BE CONTINUED...
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