Page 30 of These Wicked Hearts

For a split second I consider asking for a drink, something to take the edge off, but I shut that down fast.

“You okay?”

I look up and see Chen take off his mask. His long black hair is tied up right now. I watch him drag a towel across his forehead before slipping his mask back into place. “Fuck, I can’t wait to take this off,” he mutters.

My skin feels heavy with the makeup, as if I’m suffocating under layers of it. I know it won’t smudge without specific cleansers, but it doesn’t stop this sensation crawling under my skin. “I’m fine.” My voice comes out too high. “When are they coming back?”

I need this over with. I need distance. Physically and mentally.

The thing is, I couldn’t stop watching him. Even when I tried so hard, my gaze always traveled back to him. I can still feel him. His mouth, his tongue. Fuck, those pretty little noises he made. This hard man was so soft and desperate while I had him under me. I liked watching him unravel piece by piece as all his insecurities faded away.

Fuck!

I force my eyes shut. Just forget it. It was one night. One night was all it was and now he may fuck up everything I’ve built. Everything I’ve sacrificed for.

Fuck, it was so good, though. Too good.

For once I got to let go. No expectations or images to uphold. No one watching, judging, or most of all, using me. It was just the two of us. And now my secret might be out because of one selfish night. What if Jim finds out?

My stomach turns cold.

“Gage?”

I snap my eyes open and find Jesper watching me. His mask is pushed up and resting on his head, the curved goblin horns catching the light. He runs his fingers through his brown hair, and beads of sweat form around his forehead, his normally russet skin flushed and shiny. The masks were Chen’s suggestion, and while they wear them out of necessity, Jesper hates it the most. He can complain all he wants, though, because Declan’s the reason they wear them, and we all know whatever Declan asks for, Jesper is happy to give him.

“What a fucking show, huh?” He smiles. Declan walks back, catching his eye, and he grabs his wrist, pulling him against his body. “You played great tonight.” He gives him a kiss.

“I just want to go home.”

“I know. Just a few meet and greets then we’re free for three months.” Jesper’s hand slides along his lower back.

“You guys going anywhere?” Chen asks them, but his eyes slide to mine.

“We’re going to Ireland for a couple of weeks. Our flight leaves Monday.” Jesper squeezes Declan’s arm. Declan has a lot of social anxiety, and even though we’ve been together most of our lives, he still doesn’t talk too much. Which is fine. Jesper runs his mouth enough for everyone.

“What about you, Gage? What are you doing over break?”

Trying to figure out how to end this bullshit for good. Although, since that night on the roof, it means something a little different. I wonder if there’s an ending that doesn’t involve me blowing up my friends’ lives. Although Atlas could be halfway to meet up with some tabloid douchebag and sell his story right now. I look up and remember Chen’s question.

“Uh nothing. No plans, just writing.” Hopefully, because writing has been difficult lately. Writing used to be as natural as breathing, yet I can’t seem to find the desire to lately.

“That’s it? Lame. This was your idea and you have no vacation plans?”

“Not having to look at you ugly pricks is enough of a vacation for me.” I grin.

Jesper laughs, slapping my arm. “Dick.”

I laugh slightly and instantly miss them. I don’t know why. They’re right in front of me, but still. Maybe I miss the version of us from years ago, barely making enough to survive. I miss how free it all felt back then.

I need to put it out of my brain for now.

“Put your masks on,” I mutter. “They’ll be back soon.”

Normally I like this part, meeting fans, seeing what our music means to them. I love fan theories about our lyrics. I like to read about the way they twist our narratives to fit their own lives and find meaning in our songs I never even intended to deliver. It’s art on its own.

Right now, I’d give anything to skip it, go home, scrub everything off, and pretend none of this happened for the next three months of my break. “You alright?” Chen asks, pulling his mask back into place.

“I think I’m getting sick,” I lie.