This wasn’t the first song he’d written about Stan. A few of them had even made it onto albums in the past, though they were more abstract than this one. This song Ben had written in the small bedroom in Stan’s flat, fighting all sorts of personal demons while the man he loved slept a hundred feet away, on the other side of a wall.
It didn’t have a title yet, though Ben thought it might be called “Growing Old.” That’s what it was about, anyway. Looking into the future and wondering what needed to be done in the present to get to where he wanted to be.
The circle of addiction and anxiety Ben had been trapped in had him living not in the present, but in repeating the mistakes of the past while unable to escape from it. Reconnecting with Stan should have, logically, thrown him even deeper into that cycle—instead it had broken it. For the first time in years, Ben saw his future. One with Stan by his side, and he ached for it.
Halfway through the song, he forced himself to meet Stan’s eyes. A bright spotlight was trained on the stage, so Ben couldn’t see much. Stan had his hands clasped and was watching with the kind of rapt attention Ben was so scared of.
It wasn’t the best song in the world, but it was an honest one.
When it was done, Stan walked up to the stage and hopped up, then wrapped his arms around Ben’s neck and pressed their foreheads together. Holding the guitar in his lap made it hard to hug him back, but he managed to get an arm around Stan’s waist to hold him close.
“Wow.”
Ben smiled, pressing his lips to Stan’s neck so he could feel it. “I love you.”
“I love you too.”
They stayed like that for a moment, even though there were people in the room watching them, even though the cameras might still be on. Then the rest of the band burst onto the stage and piled onto their group hug.
Ben couldn’t help but laugh, caught up in the ridiculousness of the situation. He wasn’t even sure what they were going to do with the song yet. It was just too good of an opportunity to miss, to get to record it live like this. It might even form part of the promo for the new album, rather than any of his own stuff. That was okay too.
“We’re not rolling,” someone called from the back of the stage, and Ben managed to shake Geordie off before he tried to stick his tongue in Ben’s ear. He’d learned how to dodge that a long time ago.
“You’re all a bunch of cocks,” he said.
Summer just kissed him. “It’s a good song.”
“Thanks.”
Ben slipped his hand into Stan’s as they started to pack up all their gear. Even now, they preferred to set up and break down from gigs themselves. Partly it was an ego thing, proving they didn’t have one and didn’t expect others to do their dirty work for them. Partly it was because they’d had too much kit stolen or damaged by techs in the past. Ben thought it was a healthy habit, either way.
“Are you doing okay?” Stan murmured when they were almost done. Ben nodded and kissed him on the cheek.
“Better than I thought I would be. Yeah.”
“Good. You want to get some food and go home?”
“Yes,” Ben said, being dramatic on purpose. He dropped his head so it rested against Stan’s. “Please.”
“What do you want?” Stan laughed.
“Anything. I want what you want. Just make sure there’s a lot of it.”
“Are you getting food?” Tone called from across the room.
Stan kissed Ben on the lips, just lightly, then turned to Tone. “Do you want to come back to ours for dinner, Tone?”
Geordie turned to Stan with a pout. “What about me?”
“Fine. I’m ordering sushi for six. And I’m not taking requests. Hurry up.”
They got back to the flat in some kind of covert operation that seemed to involve the entire security team smuggling them out of Buck Shot one by one. A few fans had hung around, trying to catch one last glimpse of the band before they were whisked away, but they were all waiting at the front of the building. It wasn’t exactly a secret that the band entrance to the venue was around the side, but it was so well blocked off, no one could get around there.
Even with weekend traffic, it didn’t take long to get back to the new flat.
No one had seen inside yet, so Ben let them wander around and criticise his taste in decorating while he sat at the dining table with his arms wrapped around Stan’s middle, his face pressed to Stan’s belly.
“You’re all miserable fuckers, and I hate you,” he mumbled, too quietly for anyone to hear.
Stan kicked everyone out at around two in the morning, sending them back to their own house to go to bed. But that didn’t feel right, somehow, and the next morning Ben dragged Stan over to Belsize Park so they could be together again.
They all wandered around in a weird kind of comedown, not wanting to break the magic of the night before. Summer camped out in the living room in front of the TV, obsessively checking social media for reactions to the gig. Ben made enough toast for both of them, then joined her on the sofa.
“So, what’s the consensus?”
She nodded and carefully picked up a piece of toast. “A lot of good vibes. I reckon we can drop a single in the next few weeks and it’ll do really well.”
“We don’t have a video or anything, though.”
Summer crunched her toast, then licked her fingers. “They can use footage from the gig if we use one of the songs we played.”
“’Girl Things’?”
“No,” she shook her head. “We need a better video for that. Maybe ‘Wooden Heart’?”
Ben was surprised. “I hadn’t thought we’d use that as a single.”
“Me either. But they loved it, Ben.”
“Maybe. Yeah. Maybe.” He split a piece of toast in half so they could share it. Summer was wearing an Ares T-shirt, one from their last tour that she’d had a hand in designing. For some reason, it made Ben feel very fond of her to see her wearing it. It was nice to know they were still their own biggest fans.
Impulsively, he pulled her into a hug.
“I’m so pleased you’re doing better,” Summer murmured against his shoulder. “God, Ben. You had me worried.”
“Me too,” he admitted as she shuffled back. “No going back now, though.”
“No. I spoke to Melissa earlier. They’re expediting the mixing for the album. She wants to do a listening party in the next few weeks.”
“That early?”
“She’ll do it with a rough cut if she has to. We did a lot of the work back in LA, mate. I think they might want us to rerecord some of the vocals, get the harmonies right, but we can do that in an afternoon if we have to.”
Ben nodded slowly. “Okay.”
“Are you going to be alright with all of that?”
“Yeah.”
She leaned over to squeeze his knee. “If you need us for anything, just say something, for fuck’s sake.”
“I want to listen to the album before we share it with anyone else. Even Stan, or Sherrie or Melissa. I want the five of us to be happy with it before it goes out there.”
“That’s a good idea.” She tucked her hair behind her ear. “I’ll call Weston. He’s doing the bulk of the production in LA, but I bet he’d come here if we asked him to.”