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Everything was just as he had left it. The bed was made, and a few items of clothing were scattered on the floor. A huge poster of Nightstalker hung above the bed, a throwback to their first album release.
“You don’t have to hang that up. It’s embarrassing. I live here.”
Milo burst into laughter as he turned around on the bed and attached the poster with adhesive corners at the top ends. “Oh… I’m just proud of my little Mingan! What’s wrong with that? Is it hanging straight?”
When Tristan didn’t answer, Milo looked over his shoulder while still holding the two corners. Black strands fell into his face, and an infectious joy flickered in his eyes.
Tristan smiled and shook his head. “A little higher on the left. Yeah, that’s good.”
After Milo pressed the corners, he jumped off the bed and stood next to him. “Yep, that looks good. My little brother is going to conquer the world. I’m so proud of you.”
Tristan chuckled. “Let me know if you want a shirt, fanboy.”
“Let’s not overdo it,” Milo said. He climbed back onto the bed and thumbed the bottom two corners.
“How are things going with you?” Tristan asked.
“Good.”
He knew his brother too well to miss the slight undertone. Milo went to the closet and picked out a red plaid shirt, which he tied around his waist. With the black shirt and blue jeans, he appeared like he was going for a lumberjack look, if not for his trimmed sides and longer hair on top. It suited him incredibly well, and he somewhat resembled a model.
“How are the recordings going?”
“Good,” Milo replied. “I’ve almost finished recording everything. And it looks like I’ll also be able to record the drums for Luke Peters.”
“That’s great!”
“Oh yes! It’s really fun. The people there are professional. Not like at Longride Studio. So, it looks good. If things don’t work out with Nightstalker, you can count on me.”
Tristan laughed loudly. “Don’t worry! Things will work out. And it’s going to be huge!”
“I know that, little Mingan. And I’m so proud of you.”
Tristan shook off the memory and closed the door behind him. In the kitchen he stashed the drinks in the fridge, dumped the spoiled food, and flopped onto the couch with the sandwich. He wasn’t hungry, but having not eaten all day, he knew he couldn’t avoid it if he wanted to get through the coming days. So he nibbled on the cheese and tomato sandwich, trying to disregard the bland mush it became in his mouth.
Everything here was just as he had left it. The old wooden table was strewn with countless notes, a product of his almost obsessive writing in the days following Milo’s death.
The funeral had been preceded by long nights of desperate attempts to understand what had happened. As far as he could recall, he hadn’t succeeded yet. He had retreated into his cave, spending hours staring at the walls, and now knew every spot, dent, and splinter. Like a ghost, he had wandered between bed, kitchen, and couch until José had dragged him to a bar.
It might have been wiser to stay at home.
Since he no longer had a phone to distract himself with, he turned on the TV and muted it. For a while, he flipped through the channels, chewing on his sandwich.
On a music channel, “Acid,” the song from their first album that had propelled them to the top, was playing. The video clip showcased images from a time when everything had been fine and the band’s fire had burned hot. They had been in Australia when they found out about their success.
“Number 1!” José shouted, holding his phone up. “Did you guys see this? ‘Acid’ is at number 1!”
Tristan wiped the sweat from his face with a towel. “What? Where?”
“On the Billboard charts!”
“No way,” Andrej said, grabbing José’s phone in disbelief.
“Congratulations, guys!” Carol exclaimed. “Number 1! I knew you had it in you!”
The adrenaline from the concert still raced through Tristan’s veins, but this news, confirmed by Carol, sent them all into another frenzy of joy. They cheered, hugged each other, and laughed. When Tristan turned to Leaf, Leaf embraced him and lifted him up in excitement.
“I knew it!” he exclaimed, setting Tristan back down.
