If there was a sound that was any worse in the entire world, Simon thought blearily, he'd be unpleasantly surprised.
God damned fucking alarm clock.
"Soz?" A tangled mass of black hair, not unlike his own, and a slightly rounded face with matching bleary eyes met his. "Hit that, would you?" Simon decided to be a good little boy. Biting back a quick remark that it had been Robert who had set the thing in the first place, he leaned over and hit the button obediently, and the ringing fell silent.
The mattress beside him dipped and rose again as Robert stood and padded to the bathroom. Simon didn't look; he knew only because the shower was running. He could hear the water hitting the walls and floor of the shower, and unless Lol had decided to steal their water again, Robert was busy.
He couldn't get back to sleep. His head was buzzing with some forgotten, weak hangover. Closing his eyes made his head reel, so he watched a crack in the wall and tried to widen it with his mind. No such luck.
"Are you going to stay in bed all day long?" Robert blinked at him, clad only in a towel and trying to turn his hair from a snarled mess into a controlled one. Simon merely blinked tiredly, then lay on his back and watched the ceiling. He didn't have to say anything; he had the nagging susipcion that Robert could read his mind.
"No, you're not." the other man said, in a matter-of-fact tone of voice. Simon found himself half-lifted, half-dragged out of bed and into the small hotel's bathroom. He stood in the shower stall limply, like some sort of zombie, blinking at Robert and not otherwise moving.
A sigh. "Soz...really." Blink.
Robert shed his towel, turned on the hot water, and stepped into the stall with Simon. He began to wash the younger band-mate's hair and body, quietly, without saying another word.
Simon moved obediently, his mind not really inside his body. He was outside himself, watching Robert wash his body tenderly. He would've asked why, but he didn't have a mouth to speak with. So he just watched. He watched as Robert dried them both off again, helping unsnarl his hair, and dressing him like one would a child or a doll. It was all so gentle though, and confusing.
Simon got back into his own head, ready to ask why, but the moment had passed, and Robert had gone to get some coffee.
Cream in the coffee? Was Robert trying to tell him something?
"Anything wrong?" Simon blinked at the cup once more, then held it out for Robert to inspect.
"Oh. Whoops." Robert shrugged, utterly uncaring, and dumped it down the sink before pouring Simon a cup of black coffee.
Simon blinked again. "You did that on purpose?" Robert was talking to Lol, who was getting some sugar out of the cup.
"You did that on purpose." he said again, this time more of a statement than a question.
"Mm?" Lol peered at him over the rim of his cup. Robert didn't turn. Simon shook his head. If Robert wanted to pretend he wasn't listening, he'd play right along. "Nothing."
Lol's eyebrows vanished somewhere up under his hairline and he turned, wandering away. Simon tugged on Robert's sleeve. "You did that on purpose."
"You don't like it." Robert said with a shrug, drinking from his own cup, turning to face Simon at last. "No, I don't." Simon's brow furrowed in confusion.
"Just wanted to see." Robert said, a small smirk tugging on the corners of his lips. "I'm awake." Simon said quietly, in a slightly annoyed tone of voice. "Stop." Robert commanded in a dark, cross tone. There was a finality about it. "I didn't give you poison. Be a good boy."
He gawked again, but Robert had moved on. Fuming slightly, Simon followed after like a well-trained puppy.
**
It wasn't until he'd gone outside for a smoke that evening that Robert spoke to him in normal tones again. "You know," the older man said, as he swiped Simon's cigarette, "I think Lol's been drinking every time I turn my head away."
Simon trembled slightly with anger. All day long, Robert had been silently harassing him, pushing him, and now he couldn't even smoke his last fag in peace and quiet. "Give that back." "No." Robert said.
Simon glared. "That's my last - " "I said NO." Robert's head snapped around, narrowing his eyes at Simon, who trembled harder and shrank back against the wall.
"You want to smoke? Fine." Robert took a deep drag, then framed Simon's face with his hands and kissed the younger man's wide-open, surprised mouth. Hard. Simon could taste the smoke from Robert's mouth, could feel his band-mate's tongue; his eyes widened and his knees shook slightly. He was rapidly running out of air, and Robert finally bit his lip and let go, stubbing the cigarette out on the wall and strode off.
Simon sank to his knees, leaning against the wall, cheek pressed up against the cool brick as he slowly re-gained his breath. He wiped his mouth, trying to get rid of the blood. He could still taste Robert's warm lips.
He tasted like raspberry creams.
Simon spat.
It hadn't even been an hour in the pub, and Lol was already drunk enough to warrant three trips to the loo to throw up.
Simon's mood wasn't improving, even with the drinks he kept knocking back. Robert was flirting with everyone he saw, boy or girl, and it was beginning to get irritating.
When the older band-mate had moved onto the sixth giggling fan, Simon finally had had enough.
"You know," he said, leaning forward across the table, "Robert and I are sleeping together."
The girl blinked in surprise; Robert slapped Simon across the face, making it look playful but it actually hurt - "Just sleeping. Our hotel room only has the one bed." Robert said with a chuckle. "Soz, stop lying to the poor girl." he led them off to the bar to have another drink.
Simon blinked and rubbed his cheek, scowling softly. Robert was lying in his own special way, half-lying.
There were two beds.
It wasn't that he felt like that, no, it was that Robert was close, closer than friends, but it was almost a feeling of brotherhood that Simon felt for his band-mate. He knew they didn't really do much more than play around when they were drunk, the occasional grope or snog, which was why that kiss had been so alien.
It was fucking with his head, he decided, and took another drink. Lol came back to the table, and sat down beside him. "Where's Robert?"
"off getting another drink." Simon said without looking at the man.
"With another girl, then."
"Christ not you too." Simon let his head fall forward and hit the thick wooden table with a dull thud. Could everybody read his mind? Was he really that transparent?
"Huh?"
- Could Lol really be that thick?
"Nothing. Never mind, never mind, I don't care, never mind. Shut it." Simon said, all in one breath, guzzling his drink at the end. The lack of air was dizzying, but he managed to stay upright.
"That's a perfect line, you should write a song." Lol poked Simon's shoulder, laughing. "Maybe Robert would sing it for you."
Simon, with the last foggy bits of his sobriety, resisted the urge to belt the drummer a good one across the chops. "My ears. Shut it." he growled, standing and staggering off to the loo to throw up.
Gut roiling, he lurched over to the stall and let it all out with a sob. It burned his raw throat, and he couldn't stop the tears of pain and anguish from coursing down his cheeks.
Fuck you, he thought to everyone and no one in particular, and then he passed out on the floor.
He was horizontal, and he was moving.
Cracking open his bleary eyes, Simon saw Robert's slightly rounded face swim into view. From the angle he was being carried at, he couldn't read the older man's expression.
"Robin?" he whispered softly. His throat hurt from crying, and his mouth still tasted like vomit.
Robert looked down and Simon shrank even further. His band-mate's expression was devoid of any emotion whatsoever. "What?" he asked calmly.
Simon shivered. "Nothing." he tucked his head down again, fingers wound in the white fabric. He was cold, and the warmth coming off Robert's body was comforting.
Neither of them said anything for a long time. They eventually made it back to their hotel room, and finally Robert opened his mouth. "Can you stand?"
"I think so." Simon said, sliding his legs out of Robert's other arm and balanced, alibeit unsteadily, on the floor.
"Good." Robert didn't look at him, merely walked to the small closet and began to hang up his clothes.
Simon stood near the closed door, holding his left arm, which was hurting a little bit. He assumed he'd been lying on it while he was passed out.
"Next time tell me you're feeling sick. I had to go looking for you." Robert said, pulling the unresponsive Simon over and undressing him in the bathroom, dumping his shirt in the sink to soak the little bits of vomit off.
Simon glanced at himself in the mirror, and was slightly surprised that it didn't shatter into a million pieces like in some horrific fairy tale. He looked a fright; his face was smudged with black make-up and sweat, there were little bruises along his cheek - he must've landed fairly hard - and other nasty reminders of his sickness.
He touched a particularly nasty, angry purple mark just under his left eye. It was bigger than the rest...
"I'm sorry." Robert said, not looking up.
"For Christ's sake!" Simon cried out, voice cracking as he fought the urge to go into hysterics. "Everyone can fucking read my mind today!"
Robert pushed Simon into the shower, pelting them with cold water and cleaning Simon up. The younger man whimpered with cold, but watched impassively as the black mascara and eyeliner dribbled down his chest and thighs before dissapearing down the drain of the stall.
"Look Robin, I'm bleeding black." he giggled softly.
Robert tilted his band-mate's head up, looking him in the eyes. "Don't, Soz."
"Don't what?" Simon asked, confused. He blinked water out of his eyes.
"Don't bleed." Robert said simply, turning off the shower and drying them both off, half-carrying Simon to bed again. "Soz, am I going to have to do this every day?" he asked, spooning the younger man and touching his bruised cheek.
Simon said nothing, just took Robert's warm hand and pulled him closer, closing his eyes.
If I said 'yes', what would you do?
In the morning, Simon woke up before the alarm clock went off, and he moved the little metal hammer so it wouldn't ring. Satisfied that it was muted, he crawled back into bed facing Robert, and watched his band-mate sleeping. He watched the little wild stray hairs that floated up and down with every even, steady breath. Robert's eyes were closed lightly and his lips slightly parted.
Simon thought that he looked like a sleeping angel.
He heard the click of the alarm clock as it was blocked from going off, and sighed, touching the side of Robert's face gently. "Wake up, Robin."
He could sense it as the older man gradually came awake, breathing shallower and eyelids lifting slowly. "You turned the alarm off." Robert said quietly, one hand snaking out from under the sheets to stroke Simon's cheek, smoothing back his messy bed-head.
Simon nodded.
Robert tightened his grip in the younger band-mate's hair, tugging sharply, harshly. "Oh- stop- you're hurting me!" Simon cried out softly, whimpering in pain.
"Don't turn my alarm off." Robert narrowed his eyes, leaning in close. "This is your first and only warning, Soz. Don't piss me off today." he let go of Simon and rolled out of bed to take a shower.
Simon curled up int the blankets, whimpering with pain and rubbing his throbbing scalp. What had he done to deserve this? Why was Robert being so cruel? It wasn't fair!
"Come on, Soz. Up with you." Robert was suddenly all warm smiles, so gentle. "Time to get moving."
**
They had lunch mid-afternoon in a small bistro. Lol had begun to drink already, and Robert was like the ice crystals forming in the corners of his glass. He glittered and grinned, but it was with all his teeth, and utterly without mercy.
Simon didn't have a clue as to why.
Their waitress came by, and Robert, for some unknown reason, ordered a gigantic dessert. Simon doubted he'd ever seen that much ice cream, fudge, and various other toppings in one place before.
Robert had about six bites before declaring himself full, and standing to go find a loo. "And when I get back," he murmured to Simon as he passed, "it had better all be eaten." the look in his eyes dared the younger man to disobey.
Simon stared at the dripping, massive mountain before him and fought back the overwhelming urge to cry. Slowly he began to eat, every bite tasting less and less like a hot fudge sundae, and more and more like shit.
Lol looked up at him, caught his eye, alarmingly sober. "You don't know why he treats you like this, do you?"
Simon paused, spoon half-way to his mouth. It dripped onto the table and he wiped it up before taking a bite. "And you do?"
"It's 'cos he wants to control you. He wants to control everybody. But he can't with you, not really. You're different." Lol said tiredly. "And it drives him mad." he returned to his drink.
Simon frowned, barely managing to finish off his ice cream before Robert returned. "Good boy." he brushed his fingers along his younger band-mate's cheek softly, almost like a lover's caress.
Simon shivered and felt like he was going to be sick. The ice cream and fudge were congealing in his gut, making it roil. He swallowed but said nothing.
Lol was right.
And that was terrifying.
Simon was exhausted.
Absolutely exhausted.
He didn't remember much of the concert, and what he could remember was filled with random images of Robert singing and casting glances at his younger band-mate. His eyes had made Simon's knees weak.
He'd almost collapsed on-stage near the end, but Robert had pulled him to his feet and did a sort of puppet-play during a drum solo.
They'd gone back to the hotel afterward, and Simon had confined himself to the bathroom.
He was shaking.
He didn't want to look in the mirror because he knew he'd see the horrors of the aftermath; face streaked with black and red lipstick running down his chin and neck as if he were some sort of vampire.
And Robert didn't want him to bleed.
Fuck Robert.
He got into the shower, only stripping as he went, turning the water on cold and kicking off his boots. He didn't bother removing his nylons, didn't really care at the moment.
His hair slowly matted itself to his forehead and the back of his neck. It felt better than sweat. Simon sighed, shivering slightly with the cold, so he turned the temperature to a more comfortable level and finally peeled off the nylons. It felt good to finally get clean again.
There was a knock on the door.
"Occupied!"
"So?" Simon felt a pair of arms creeping around his middle, Robert's low chuckle in his ear.
He lost it. "Robert, stop fucking with my head!" he turned, punching the older man repeatedly in the chest. Robert took a few hits, then held him still.
Simon lost his inner battle and began to cry.
"Stop it, Soz." Robert murmured softly, stroking the younger man's sopping-wet bangs away from his face. "Don't cry..."
"What if I fucking want to cry?" Simon demanded, struggling to push Robert away. "What will you do? Tape my eyes shut?"
Robert glared, then pulled Simon close, into a tight, posessive embrace. It was only then that Simon noticed Robert was naked... And aroused.
Making some gibbering, incoherent noises of confusion and fear, Simon struggled harder, practically thrashing in Robert's grip.
"Let me go!" he yelped, tears of fury replacing those of anguish. He could feel the older man's warm skin against his own, chest-to-chest; that same warmth used to be comforting as he slept. Now it was cold; cold furious lust. And then Robert was kissing him, and Simon couldn't help himself.
He was kissing his band-mate back, just as hard, still struggling weakly, but losing the battle to his cock, which had begun to respond helplessly to the onlsaught of stimulation.
Moaning when Robert pulled away, and gasping for breath, Simon found himself turned; his back was to the older man's chest. He didn't scream when he felt his band-mate begin to jerk him off, but that was only because Robert was kissing him, awkwardly. Simon could feel his orgasm building, and broke away to cry "No!" loudly as he came, hard.
Whimpering, he slid down the wall to his knees, facing away from Robert. He shivered under the spray of the water, which had begun to cool off again. He held his shoulders.
"You're not a man." he whispered. "You're an animal."
Robert said nothing.
The younger man could hear him walking, then the bathroom door opened and shut again.
Simon closed his tired eyes, and sobbed.
For the first time since their tour began, Simon slept in a separate bed from Robert. He was almost afraid to fall asleep. Awake for hours, he huddled under the blankets watching the older man sleep, every muscle on edge, waiting for...
Waiting for what? For the man he considered his best and closest friend to...to rape him again?
It was only from sheer exhaustion that his eyes fell shut, and he began to dream.
Darkness. A small room, he was curled up in a corner, oddly enough, he was fully dressed. There was a door, with a small barred window near the top, about eye-level.
He stood up slowly, knees shaking, walking to the door and grasping hold of the bars. "Hallo?"
A face, a person - Robert - swam into view on the other side of the door. Simon leapt back with a terrified yelp and pressed himself against the back wall.
The dream-Robert grinned with all his teeth, coming through the door and into the room.
"I own you, Soz. You can't ever get away from me."
Simon shivered, trying to get away, but the room was getting smaller and smaller, forcing the two of them closer. Robert seemed to be growing as the room shrank, getting to be an enormous presence, and leaning in to kiss Simon's lips -
He woke up screaming, sitting bolt upright, tangled in the bedsheets, and a cold sheen of sweat dripping off of him.
"Woah - take it easy - it's just me." Gary held his hands up, alarmed. "You all right? Everyone's gone to lunch, I came to find you..."
Simon tried to slow his breathing down, drawing his knees up to his chest. "Oh, God. Gary. Oh, God..."
The roadie came over, sitting down on the side of the bed, putting a hand on Simon's shoulder. He flinched, but didn't pull away.
"What's wrong? You're a mess. Here." Gary gave him a small cup of water from the sink. "What happened?"
Simon drank the offered liquid, then moved a little closer; he craved warmth, needed something to keep him steady right now. Gary gently rested his arm across Simon's shoulders, silently waiting.
"It's - it's Robert. He's - he's fucking with my head." Simon said, horrified at the sound of his own voice. How weak, how scared he sounded. How beaten. He buried his face in his knees, shivering, and trying not to cry.
"He fucks with everyone's head." Gary pointed out. "What did he do to you?"
Simon couldn't help the tears now. They ran down his cheeks in rivers, and he hugged his knees tighter, trying to curl up into an even tinier ball, making little involuntary noises, like a frightened animal.
Gary's arm tightened around Simon's shoulders. "Oh holy shit. No. He didn't." Simon just cried.
"Fucking shit! That wanker! I'll kill him!" Gary said stiffly, through gritted teeth, starting to get up.
"No - no don't - don't go yet. Please." Simon pulled Gary back down, curling against him, that needed warmth slowly flowing back.
And Gary let him, even threw an arm around his friend, tucking the trembling young man against him and into him, a quiet sigh escaping as Simon drifted off into a black, dreamless sleep.
When Simon woke up, Gary was still asleep, snoring softly. The sky was turning a warm shade of crimson, and through the window he could see the sun setting.
The door opened and closed again, and Simon turned. It was Robert.
The younger man's blood ran cold. "Go away." he said, shaking Gary, trying to get the roadie to wake up.
Robert sat down on the foot of the bed and didn't say anything.
Simon curled against the headboard, hugging a pillow subconsciously over his chest. "Please go away?"
Gary woke up, starting with surprise at the sight of the older band member. "Get out of here, you fucking wanker!" he snarled, rearing up, hackles raised.
Still, Robert said nothing.
"Wait." Simon touched Gary's shoulder, making him pause. He crawled behind the roadie, creating a human shield between himself and Robert. "Talk."
Robert blinked large, sad eyes, and then closed them. "There's no excuse for what I did, and no matter what I say, it's going to sound like shit."
"It already does." Gary snarled.
"Hush." Simon squeezed the roadie's arm. "Keep going." he nodded at Robert.
The older man opened his eyes again. "I'm not going to try and explain what I did, and I'm not going to try and shift the blame. It was my fault, you didn't deserve any of it, and...and I'm sorry."
Simon was quiet for a long time. Then he crawled out from behind Gary and took Robert's hand, still trembling a little.
"I don't trust you, and I still don't love you...but I believe you." he let go of Robert's hand, pulling on a pair of jeans and shirt, and taking Gary's arm. "I'll see you at the next show." he said softly, leaving Robert alone in their hotel room.
Simon felt slightly dizzy as he walked into the glowing sunset with Gary.
"Did...did I do right?" he murmured softly, suddenly feeling weak.
"You did right." Gary said quietly, looping an arm around his friend's shoulders.
"I'm - " Simon found himself in tears. "I trusted him...why did he...what did I...?"
"Simon, no! This isn't your fault, you mustn't ever think that!" Gary said quickly, taking the other man's shoulders in his hands tightly and looking into his eyes. "Please."
"I..." Simon wobbled slightly, feeling so horribly lost that he positively ached. "I'm hurting..."
Gary hugged Simon tightly, wishing he could just wipe away the hurt and confusion. But he couldn't, so he just stoo there, and held him as he cried.
Simon opened his eyes, free of pain, and figured it was the first time in a long while that he hadn't woken up hungover.
For some odd reason, though, he was craving peppermints.
He sat up, wondering for a moment where he was, and then he remembered.
Gary was still asleep in the other seat in the front of the van. Shrugging off the makeshift blanket, Simon opened the glove compartment and pulled out the secret bag of mints he knew the roadie kept hidden from the others.
Popping a few in his mouth, he sat back and watched some of the birds in the parking lot. Two of them were fighting over what appeared to be someone's breakfast. Laughing quietly to himself, he poked Gary in the shoulder until the roadie woke up. "Look at that!"
"Look at what?" Gary asked, eyes opening blearily.
The birds had flown away, leaving the burnt toast on the ground.
"Oh, you missed it." Simon looked away, unwrapping another mint.
"Hey! Those are mine!"
"Were." Simon said, shaking the bag to get the spicy ones to the top so he wouldn't have to dig for them. "Mine now."
"Give that back!" Gary snatched at the bag and missed; Simon laughed.
"You really want them back?"
"Yes!"
Simon stuck his tongue out, gobby mints on top. " 'An 'ake 'hem."
Gary leaned forward and stole them with his mouth, tongue sliding over Simon's; an exotic sort of peppermint kiss.
Simon shivered and pulled back a bit. He hadn't expected Gary to be that serious about the mints.
Gary paused. "Ah..." he bit his lip, wincing awkwardly. "Geez -"
"No - no, it's okay." Simon shook his head. "It's only that, well...he would kiss me like that."
"I'm sorry." Gary said quickly and quietly, looking away. "I don't know what I was thinking. I -"
Simon Gary's chin towards him, kissing him softly and tucking his knees up so he was curled against the roadie's warm body. "It's okay."
..
It was a quiet day, and aside from a luncheon with the roadies, Simon didn't see much of it at all. He spent most of his time not talking, just listening. There wasn't much foolish pride here, just a few warm smiles and a rather rude sense of humor.
It was late in the evening by the time he returned to the hotel, Gary at his side.
Robert was sitting on the bed, surrounded by half-scribbled-on sheets of musical scores.
"Hallo, Robert." Simon said quietly, entering, Gary a protective force behind him.
The older man looked up from his writing slowly, not really meeting his younger band-mate's eyes. "Hallo, Soz."
Gary bristled, about to make a rather nasty remark, but Simon put a hand on his friend's shoulder to stop him.
"Writing a song I see. What's it called?" Simon inquired, crawling onto the end of the bed and peering at the sheets inquisitively, feeling fairly safe since he wasn't alone with Robert.
"Hasn't got one yet." the older man admitted. "I just started writing things down. I think there's more than one in here."
Gary was neither amused nor appeased by this little display of small talk. He shifted from foot to foot, feeling slightly unstable.
Simon, sensing this, looked up at him. "It's...it's a bit better now, Gary. You don't have to stay..."
As Gary blinked and opened his mouth to protest, Simon placed a soft kiss to his cheek and rested a finger on the roadie's lips. "I'll come and get you if I need you." he murmured against the man's skin.
The last thing Gary saw as he left was Simon, looking at him. His smile was so heartbreakingly sweet that he had to close the door so Simon wouldn't see his friend crying for him.
They sat in silence for what seemed like hours, Robert still scratching lyrics like mad on seemingly-random sheets. Simon merely watched him, slightly comforted in the silence, the fact that he didn't have to say anything.
Finally, Robert dropped his pencil, sat back, and sighed, closing his eyes lightly.
"I didn't want to hurt you."
"You were trying to control me." Simon said quietly, lowering his head and looking at the other man through his thick dark eyelashes.
"Because I wanted you so badly, and you're like this wild thing that I can't even understand -"
"You - what?" Simon breathed.
Robert sucked in a breath, running a hand through his messy hair and getting it tangled. "You're this gorgeous, wild, absolutely stunning creature, Soz. It's everything I crave, and everything I fear, because I can't control you. So I tried too hard and -"
"Robin, if you wanted me, why didn't you just say something?" Simon wanted to laugh, to jump up and down on the bed and throw the pillows around in sheer delight, as if he was a child again - but all he could manage was an odd, cruel little half-smile, and Robert winced.
"You mean that you -"
"Oh but not now." Simon blinked, shaking his head but silently wishing he didn't sound as cruel as he thought he did. "I don't trust you any more, Robin, not fully. You've lost that. You're going to have to wait to hold my hand again." he finished quietly, sliding off Robert's bed and crawling into his own, still fully-clothed.
He felt sick, yet at the same time, satisfied in a rather sick, perverse sort-of way. The feeling stayed with him until he fell asleep.
..
In the morning, Robert had the coffeepot going, and Simon had his to warm up a bit more. It was slightly chilly in the early mornings, and today was no exception.
They were both silent again, but Simon could tell that his band-mate had a million things to say. He could see it in Robert's eyes - the questions, the apologies, the pleading and begging on bended knee - and it was all threatening to burst out at once.
"Robin." Simon sighed, taking a chance to rest his fingertips lightly over Robert's cheek, brushing softly, quite sure that if his band-mate tried anything funny, he could nail him very quickly in the groin. "Talk to me."
Robert swallowed, eyes tired, haunted. "I miss you."
That warmth. Simon missed it too.
"I'm sorry." he replied, shaking his head gently, hair hanging in his eyes. "I can't. I just can't. Not - not after that."
Robert looked away, flushing angrily. "Fucking dammit, I -"
"Well - what did you think was going to happen?" Simon demanded. "You'd been practically torturing me all week long! How was I supposed to respond to rape?"
Robert's flush deepened and he scowled slightly; Simon noticed tears brimming in the older man's eyes.
"I didn't mean for it to be that way." he grimaced, shutting his eyes.
Simon let out a breath, and began to wipe his band-mate's tears away with his thumb. "I know, now. I know." he murmured softly. He slowly held Robert close, just holding him as they were silent together.
He ached to forgive his most beloved friend, to kiss him, to do endlessly more, but his mind refused, quietly. In time, it told his heart. In time.
It wasn't during that tour, or even the next. In fact, it was nearly a year later that one night, alone in his hotel room, Simon got up, walked across the hall, knocked on Robert's door, and said, "I'm ready."
Oh, how wonderful the look in the older man's eyes. Oh, how tearful his smile. And when they kissed, Simon felt free to love his friend with every fibre of his being. He couldn't help his nervousness, but his mind had been set at ease through the events of the past year.
His heart was tremorous as Robert let him in and closed the door, scarcely letting his gentle, caressing hands leave Simon's body, but the younger man's mind was unafraid. He kissed his band-mate back with equal passion, lips opening and tongues leaving moist, shockingly hot trails in each other's mouths. He moaned with desire as Robert's lips left his and began to trail down his body, worshipping Simon with thousands of loving kisses.
Simon sighed with pleasure and allowed Robert to strip them both, curling against the older man and wrapping his arms around him, kissing him again and again. It was almost as if he was a scared young teenage virgin again, the way he trembled under Robert's loving touches. Fumbling fingers as if it were the first time ever, clumsily spilling lubricant but twisting in just the right way so that Simon howled in ecstasy.
And when they made love at last, it was full of wonderful clichés, everything for this and all at once, that burning heat and Simon cried out; finishing and coming together, they dropped down as one twisted shape, melting together.
Glow.
"I love you, Simon..."
"And you." Simon closed his eyes.
And in the morning, he'd dress in his tight clothes, and put on his lipstick and eyeliner, and he'd be that shamelessly androgynous wild creature again.
And Robert could never control him.
But he could love him.
And the Andros could love him back.