Rocking Hard, Volume 2 Page 12

  "First you want me but don't want me. Then it's not good for the band. Then it's not good for my career. Now it's not good for us. You've always had a hundred reasons for us not to be together, a hundred perfect little excuses, a hundred trapdoors for you to escape through. Why did you keep coming back to me just to leave me?"

  "I don't want to leave. I just think it's what's best for everyone." It seemed like Michael was trying to logically explain why he was breaking Gabriel's heart, but Gabriel wasn't having it. There was nothing Michael could say that would make this okay; there was no good excuse for what he was doing.

  "Then why didn't you just leave me the fuck alone instead of getting me all wrapped up in you?"

  "Gabriel, honest, I wanted—"

  "And to dump me tonight? Tonight is my last show and tonight is when you choose to dump me?!" Gabriel was seething. He tried to keep his arms by his side so he didn't look like a fool, but he couldn't help it. His hands were gesturing of their own accord, trying to get it through Michael's thick skull that he was being an insensitive prick. No—he was being a jackass.

  "Gabriel, I'm not dumping you—"

  "Really? I've been dumped a lot, Michael. This is what it feels like."

  "I just think it's best for both of us—"

  "What about the last four weeks? Were the last four weeks just a game to you? Was I just a convenient fuck you'd never have to see again?"

  "No, of course not! You're my Gabriel." Michael's eyes were wide and his voice almost desperate, like that silly phrase explained everything.

  "You keep saying that." Gabriel was seething. How he hated that line that kept getting thrown at him but never explained. "What the hell does it mean?"

  Michael hesitated, and that simply made Gabriel even more furious. "After all we've been through, after all the shit you've put me through, you won't even explain what the fuck this is?!"

  "Gabriel—"

  "Don't 'Gabriel' me!" Gabriel snarled. "I have had enough of your shit. I am done just lying there and taking it as you toss me around like a ragdoll whenever you're in the mood to play with me." He shoved past Michael, heading for the door of the hotel room.

  "Gabriel—"

  "I need to clear my head. Don't worry, you'll still have a bassist for your precious final US show."

  Gabriel slammed the door behind him.

  *~*~*

  Gabriel stomped his way down the sidewalk, his hood up and his hands shoved in the pockets of his hoodie. What the hell was wrong with Michael? He acted like he owned Gabriel, like he was king of the world, like Gabriel was a puppet on a string. Well, he wasn't. He was a person. And he didn't appreciate being dragged around on a leash or being someone's toy.

  For four weeks, Michael had played with him, built him up only to knock him down. Time and again, he had gotten close just to push him away. He'd known how Gabriel felt about sleeping with bandmates. All his life, people had told him that he would never amount to anything, that all he was good for was bending over whenever a real musician wanted to tap his ass. Michael had known. And still he'd tried to get closer to Gabriel. All those looks and touches, the scripted PDA in every show. Everywhere Gabriel turned, Michael was there baiting him, leading him on. He just wanted the games to stop.

  How many times had Michael turned him down? He'd weasel and sneak his way in, and once he got Gabriel to let down his guard, Michael would stomp on him like some nasty bug. Michael was like those six-year-old bullies who lured ants out of the safety of their homes and then roasted them with a magnifying glass.

  Gabriel kicked a bench, hard, and then swore loudly at the pain in his foot. Stupid iron benches. Who built a bench out of iron anymore anyway? Wasn't everything being made out of aluminum and alloys now?

  He heard chanting in the distance and assumed it was just a group of Fallen Angel fans. It wasn't until he was almost to the end of the street that the hodgepodge of noise became coherent. "Gay is not the way! Gay is not the way!"

  Gabriel rounded the corner, and there were picketers—dozens of them, marching and chanting while they shoved their signs in people's faces.

  Why? Why couldn't they just leave people alone? What had he done to them? Why did they give a fuck what he chose to do with his life? Why, why, why?

  He screamed his frustration, kicking a lamppost, and caught their attention. Their taunting grew louder as they moved around him.

  "God hates sinners!"

  "You're disgusting!"

  "Fag!"

  "Adam and Eve, not Adam and Steve!"

  "I hope you die of AIDS!"

  Gabriel snapped. He shoved the man who held the AIDS signs, ripped the sign out of his hands, and snapped it across his knee. He tossed the pieces at the man's feet. "You're an ignorant hateful asshole, but I would never wish AIDS on you."

  "AIDS! He has AIDS!"

  Was that man seriously making the sign of the cross at him? He was trying to ward off evil?

  "Get away from me!"

  He screamed and tried to push his way through the crowd, but they swarmed even closer, yelling and chanted, shoving their signs at him. There were people and signs everywhere he turned, getting in his face, pushing him. He fought harder and finally managed to burst through the mob.

  Gabriel ran. He ran from their hateful chants. He ran from Michael's games. He ran from his own pain.

  He didn't get far. A voice called out, "Hey, fag! Where you running?" just as a strong man in a ripped t-shirt grabbed him and shoved him against the brick wall of a side alley. Gabriel slid to the ground and looked up to see three overly muscled men standing over him. Oh shit. He was toast. He was no match for three hulking dudes who looked like they wanted to skin him alive. He didn't know if they'd been part of the picket or just lurking in the alley and had happened to see his skirmish, but they had him cornered nonetheless.

  "Yeah, fag. Where you going?"

  He didn't know what to say. He couldn't reason with these bigots—could he? No, their brains weren't big enough for that.

  Gabriel hacked as one of them kicked him in the ribs. They moved closer, cutting off any chance of escape. He was in deep trouble.

  "Hey, I know you. You're that little fairy in the band—the one who fucks that other fag every night. I've seen your disgusting fairy act on the news. Makes my beer taste bad."

  "Get away from me." Gabriel got to his feet warily. He wasn't going to go down without a fight, not with these hateful idiots.

  "Ooh, someone's got a stick up his ass—or someone's fist. Your boyfriend shoved his tiny cock in your ass this morning?"

  "Get the fuck away from me!" Gabriel tried to push through them, but, as expected, they caught his arms and threw him back against the wall with a sick smack. He felt nauseous, and his vision swam for a moment.

  "Sick freak!" One of the thugs punched him in the face, and he collapsed against the wall, trying to stay on his feet. All at once, they set on him, kicking and punching and shoving him. He tried to block their blows, but there wasn't anything he could do.

  Maybe he was going to die. Maybe these thugs were going to beat him to death. Maybe—

  "Hey! On the ground, all of you! Hands behind your head!"

  Gabriel had never been happier to see cops in his entire life.

  *~*~*

  "Have you seen Gabriel?"

  That was Raphael's first question when Michael let him into his hotel room. He shrugged, turning away. "Not since this morning. Why?" Even to his own ears, his attempt at nonchalance fell flat on the floor.

  "We were going to jam for a while, but I haven't seen him and he's not answering his cell."

  "Not surprising," Michael said bitterly. "It's just like him to run out on me like everyone else." He purposely ignored the voice that told him that he'd been the one to run out on Gabriel, not the other way around. It made him feel better to convince himself that his misery was Gabriel's doing, that it wasn't his own fault.

  "What's gotten into you?" Raphael demanded incr
edulously. "He's not like that, and you know it."

  "Doesn't look like it."

  "Hey!" Raphael shoved his shoulder to get his attention. "Gabriel has been nothing but good to you since he joined this tour. He's put up with a lot of shit—from you and from this industry—and he's doing pretty fucking amazing in my book. When will you cut the man some slack and get it through your thick skull that he's not here to fuck you over? You're the one doing that, Michael. All these problems you think you have are all in your head."

  "How do you know that?" Michael whispered hoarsely, letting his guard down. "How do you know he won't run out on me like Zadkiel?"

  "I know him well enough to know that, and I don't know him half as well as you do."

  Michael hung his head. Raphael was right. Gabriel hadn't once turned his back on him. Michael was the one pushing him away, but he was just so fucking scared that Gabriel would break his heart. It had been terrible with Zadkiel, the pain so intense he just wanted to lock himself in a hotel room and cry for days. But if his Gabriel did the same to him? How would he move on from that? How would he keep going?

  "He's your Gabriel. You said so yourself. Were you wrong?"

  "No," Michael whispered. If he was sure of nothing else, he was sure of that.

  "Gabriel? Are you okay? What happened?" They both turned at the sound of Ariel's voice in the hallway and jumped at the sudden pounding on the door. "Michael! Michael, I need to talk to you!"

  Michael crossed the room in quick strides and flung the door open. His stomach flipped over at the sight. Gabriel stood before him, covered in dirt with a bruise forming on his right cheekbone. He looked half-dead on his feet, but his eyes were burning like a torch. He looked at Michael and only at Michael. Raphael and Ariel didn't even exist.

  "I'll just … let you two talk." Raphael closed the door behind him and Ariel as they made their exit, and then it was just Michael and Gabriel. Michael barely noticed him leaving or what he said. He was only aware enough to give an absent and half-hearted wave of his hand.

  "Gabriel—" Michael didn't know what to say, but it didn't matter anyway because Gabriel plastered himself to Michael. He gripped Michael's hair in both hands and fused their mouths together, kissing him hard and needy, like he was desperately trying to convey some all-powerful message to him.

  "Gabriel," Michael whispered as Gabriel broke this kiss but didn't move away. "Gabriel, what happened?"

  "I got roughed up by a few haters and ended up filing a report. Took forever, and then they had me checked out by a doctor before driving me back here."

  Michael's mouth actually dropped open in shock. He'd had friends who'd been "roughed up," and some of them had never been the same again. Some of them had been beaten half to death, alone and scared, and to think of Gabriel in the same position …

  "Why didn't you call me?"

  Gabriel shrugged. "I can take care of myself."

  Michael shook his head. "You shouldn't have to. If I'd been with you, this wouldn't have happened."

  Gabriel gave him a look. "You think the two of us can take on all the haters in the world?"

  "Yes." Michael truly believed that. Together, he and Gabriel could take on anything. "At least you wouldn't have had to go through it alone."

  Gabriel looked away. Why did he look sad? "Why do you care, Michael?" His question was about so much more than just the incident with the thugs, Michael could tell. There was a desperation to his voice that sounded like he wanted to know the why to everything in existence, like the helpless questioning of a widow who blamed God for taking her husband away from her.

  Michael hesitated, and then went with the simple truth. "You're my Gabriel."

  "That's it?" Gabriel's voice said that it wasn't enough. How could it not be enough? It was everything.

  "That's all there is. You're my Gabriel."

  "What does that even mean?"

  Michael blinked. "You really don't know?"

  Gabriel gritted his teeth. "All I know is that everyone keeps throwing that around, like me being Gabriel is some big deal. What the fuck does it mean, Michael?"

  "You're my other half."

  Gabriel's eyebrows drew together. He felt like something was being spread out in front of him and he just couldn't see it. "What?" he asked helplessly, desperate to understand.

  "In the Bible, Michael is the commander of God's army and the head of the archangels. They say Gabriel is the head of the archangels too. They use their names interchangeably. Gabriel and Michael are two halves of the same whole."

  "I—Michael, what—"

  "That's what you mean to me." Finally. It felt good to say it aloud, and even if Gabriel didn't understand, or didn't like it, Michael had to tell him. Michael had to know that Gabriel knew what he meant to him. "You're my other half. You're my soul mate. You're everything, Gabriel. You have been since the start. That's why I named you Gabriel. I've been waiting my whole life for you."

  "But … You named me Gabriel as soon as we met. We'd never even spoken before."

  Michael shook his head. "It didn't matter. I saw you and I knew. I heard you play, and I was sure. And every day since then that faith has only grown stronger."

  Gabriel shook his head as if he thought he could shake all the puzzle pieces together. "This—this is too much."

  "I know." Michael hung his head. "I'm sorry. That's why I didn't tell you earlier. I didn't want you to be overwhelmed by all this."

  "Well, I am. I've been overwhelmed since the start, since I first met you. It's always been too much. Always." His eyes were wide and honest; his voice was rough and heartfelt.

  There was no declaration of love in that statement. Michael felt his heart sink, even as he berated himself for getting his hopes up. Of course Gabriel didn't feel the same. He probably thought Michael was insane.

  "I want you to join the band, full time," he offered like a card man playing his last card before he lost it all. This was his only chance to keep Gabriel around him, and he fought to keep his voice even and professional, not letting the desperate desire sneak in. "Be our bass player. Be our Gabriel."

  Gabriel made a face. "Why? Because you feel bad? Because you want to keep the fans happy?"

  Michael shook his head desperately. Gabriel didn't get it. He thought this was about the public image, not what it truly meant to Michael. Of course he didn't get it. Michael swallowed against the burning in his throat. "No. Because I can't imagine being away from you. And even if you don't want to be with me, you belong in this band as much as any of us."

  "Of course I want to be with you. What are you, an idiot?" Gabriel made another face as Michael's heart soared into his throat. "Did you miss the part where I said that from the first time I met you, I was overwhelmed by everything I felt for you? Doesn't that sound like what you said about me?"

  "You mean—"

  "I love you. Of course I love you."

  Michael thought he might choke on his heart; he felt like he couldn't breathe, like his chest was going to explode. "I love you, too."

  Gabriel hesitated.

  "What?" His heart skipped a beat, and he stopped himself just as he was about to reach out and take Gabriel in his arms. "What is it?"

  "I'm not like Zadkiel."

  "What? Of course not. Gabriel—"

  "What I mean is," Gabriel cut in, "people know we're together. They'll know everything. There is absolutely no way you can hide this from them. Isn't that why you couldn't be with Zadkiel? You wanted to keep your relationship just between the two of you. You wanted to keep the press out of your private life. You can't have that if I'm in the band with you. There'll be a fucking spotlight on us from day one—there always has been."

  "I don't care. I want you with me."

  "You know, bands always told me I would spend my whole life bending over for a frontman somewhere."

  Michael didn't even think. He didn't register if Gabriel's tone was joking or bitter; all he knew was he needed Gabriel. "I'll leave the
band if you want me to."

  "What? You don't mean that." Gabriel's heart was in his eyes; Michael felt like he was looking into his soul as Gabriel realized Michael would do anything for him. It only furthered his own feelings and dedication to him.

  "I do. I do mean that." The band was everything to Michael; music was everything to him. But Gabriel was the music. "I want to be with you. I want you to be in this band with me. I want to share it with you. But if you can't be in this band and be with me, I'll leave. I pick whatever option gets me you. I don't need records and sold out tours. They don't mean anything without you."

  Gabriel looked at him, really looked at him, and then softly said, "I was trying to make a joke, when I said that. I was trying to lighten the atmosphere or some other stupid shit. I know I'm not just someone for you to fuck when you're in the mood, Michael. Soul mates, remember?"

  "Soul mates."

  Gabriel stepped closer, until they were breathing the same air. "Forever?"

  "Forever."

  And then finally, Gabriel kissed him.

  MY TRUEST LOVE

  Mell Eight

  "They're definitely building something dangerous," D said to begin the meeting as he walked into the spacious, albeit bland, room. There weren't any windows, and the only ornamentation on the white walls was the holoprojector across the room. He faced a long table with six chairs around it. All six were filled with stone-faced men and women who turned towards D when he stopped walking at the head of the table.

  D touched the control panel for the holoscreen to turn the machine on and pointed out the building construction clearly visible from the spy satellite holograph that appeared seconds later.

  "Planets have new construction all the time," P cut in as she pushed her glasses higher up her nose. "With growing populations it's inevitable, and planet 501b is certainly growing."

  "Look here," D said as he pointed to the upper right hand corner of the three-dimensional picture. The projector obligingly zoomed in to the location.