He dried off and looked at himself in the mirror, not recognizing the gaunt, haunted man in the mirror.That look made the fans fall in love.They could save him.He grabbed the bottle of pills—for his anxiety—and took his usual dose, hoping it would help with the inevitable hangover.It went with the all-black wardrobe and macabre lyrics.Which always fit his mood.
He grabbed the nearest clean “uniform” and stuffed himself into it.After checking his texts for the room number, he walked to Arend’s room.Taking a deep breath before knocking, he wanted the medication to take effect.Today was gonna be shit.
Thankfully, Lon answered the door, though even he’d changed over the past couple years.He wasn’t as happy-go-lucky since the private breakup that could have split the band.Lon needed this more than any of them.Ry could always return home—though he shuddered at the thought.
Ry took another deep breath and sat on a chair, desperate to channel the energy for this stupid press conference call with a shitty local DJ for a shitty radio station.
They were here, though.Ry’s mood was as black as his clothes.Lon fidgeted with his phone, flipping in back and forth, taking a couple pictures and deleting them.Brand still and composed as always.Arend, snake-like and slimy, his fake smile beaming.
And Alexander, in the corner, overlooked the city.Ry had forgotten where they were.He glanced at Brand, who rolled his eyes and mouthed, “Budapest.”
Ry nodded to acknowledge the answer, hoping the movement would not trigger a migraine.
“Well, shall we?”Arend asked.He toyed with the cell phone in his hands like it was a dagger instead of an electronic device.He tapped the screen twice.“Yes, thank you.We are ready.And you know the questions you cannot ask, correct?Very good.I’ll put you on speaker so they can all hear you.”
Arend motioned them closer.The sensual heat radiating from Alex reminded him of their shattered bond.Ry hated this part.Hated that he couldn’t touch him.Hated that he wanted it so bad.Hated that he didn’t seem to care anymore.
“Good morning fellas, how are you liking Budapest so far?”The thick-accented DJ host said, his voice smoky.
“It’s great,” Ry said, the first person to always speak.He stopped caring about lies and truth a long time ago.Part of the Arend charm rubbing off.
“It’s been a while, but having a great time,” Brand said, his tone cool and collected as it always was.
Lon affirmed, and Alexander said nothing.
“So glad you find our little city so wonderful!It’s great to have you playing here again.How have the crowds been?”
Ry hated these things.He used to dream of being interviewed on all the stations, speaking about important things and discussing music.But those dreams shattered fast.Arend had struck “Are you dating anyone?”from the list of acceptable questions—doing something that wasn’t shitty for once.
“Crowds are great,” Lon said.He liked these questions.Or had.Did he still?“Energetic and so, so awesome.It’s humbling to see how many of you all come to our shows.It’s why we added an extra one to make it three total here.We wanted to make sure everyone got a chance.”
“Right,” Ry said.He was required to participate.And sometimes he didn’t mind.It’s just ....“It means a lot to see you all out here having a good time with us.”The lies were easier to tell than in that first month.He felt sick lying all the time, though, like bathing in miasma.
“We love Ghostfire!”the host said.“I’ve been a fan for years, since the first album’s release.Such a classic.Can you tell us the song you like the most from that one?”
“Oh gosh,” Brand said.“I do quite like many of them, though perhaps my favorite is Walking Here Without You.The lyricism is gorgeous and, of course, the piano powerhouse chords are some of the first I loved writing.”
“I’m partial to Let Me Run,” Lon said.“Ry and I wrote the lyrics together a long time ago, and I remember we reworked them again and again for the studio version, and it’s just got such golden memories.”
Ry’s stock answer was always “Been There” just as Lon and Brand always chose those songs.Alexander always said “Angels and Demons.”
But Ry’s favorite was “The Heretic and The Broken Man.”He remembered the first love letters they’d written to each other.Ry’s writing was flowery and saccharine.And so full of clichés.Alex’s words had been stiff and romantic formal poetry.The song worked from those letters, coming from their background.Coded gay romance emo music.
Ry knew it was also Alexander’s favorite song.Or had been.
But neither could say it was their favorite.
“Angels and Demons,” Alexander said.“Brand and I wrote the original verses, and then Ry came in to help solidify the tension present in the story.”
That extra tidbit was new.He had done that, but Alexander rarely mentioned Ry’s part in it.Ry glanced at him, but Alex’s eyes were on the phone.Arend didn’t miss that motion, though his dark hawk-eyes betrayed nothing.
Feeling more rebellious, Ry changed his answer for the first time.“I know I always say Been There, but being on tour again and having so many fans long to hear stuff off our first album.I’m going to say One More Life.It’s one of our less-played songs, but I like it.”
The change, unexpected, rendered the hotel room hushed.It was almost enough to give him the shivers.And it felt good.
“Always great to hear these!”the DJ said.Arend noticed the change even though the DJ couldn’t over the phone.
“We’ve got time for one more question,” Arend said, his fluid voice calm and composed as always.And it was time.“So much to do before the show this evening.”
