Page 58 of Refrain
“Babies.” Xane genuinely shuddered. “Fuck! Are we getting old? Next, we’ll be moaning about our creaky joints and investing in pill boxes marked with the days of the week.”
“Pretty sure Paul already has one of those for his turmeric and vitamins, or whatever the hell he’s taking.”
“Ash will make a good dad,” Spook said, and Luthor backed him up. They nodded at one another in acknowledgement.
Xane groaned at the pair of them. “If you mean he’ll be rendered hopelessly gooey, then sure, and his folks will be thrilled, but let’s also be real about it. He’ll be a nightmare. The sort of dad that checks up on their offspring every thirty seconds and stamps on anything that could be remotely considered fun for fear of them doing all the things he’s done a hundred times over and then some.”
“Fair,” Spook conceded. Although, really, did any parent actually want a rockstar lifestyle for their offspring? Sure, it came with some nice cash perks, but well…sex, drugs, and rock and rollwasn’t an expression for no reason. It wasn’t necessarily the healthiest lifestyle. “I think that might just be a typical parent thing, though.”
“Wouldn’t know.” Xane said under his breath. He flipped a pancake onto a plate and placed it in front of Spook, who promptly pushed it over to Luthor. His fellow countryman proceeded to slather on butter and cover it in the freshly ground sugar.
“Not hungry?” Xane asked, cocking his pierced eyebrow at Spook.
He really wasn’t. His appetite came and went seemingly on a whim these days. He poured himself another coffee and drifted over to the window to drink it, not wanting to watch his band mates eat, or put them off their breakfast.
There were a couple of pheasants ambling about in the yard near the gate where Xane had tossed the stale bread. He watched them peck at it and squabble over an evidently prized crust. Was life as a pheasant any easier than being human? Did you still get scarred by shit in your past?
Eventually, the clatter of cutlery ceased and Luthor asked where the bathroom was before ambling off in that direction.
Having piled the dishes, Xane joined Spook by the window, and rested his chin on Spook’s shoulder. “Are you okay?”
His grip on his coffee mug tightened. Of course not. He wasn’t remotely even vaguely okay. More importantly, he couldn’t remember when he’d last been something other than screwed up and barely functional. If he said five… six—was it six months now?—then he’d be lying. He hadn’t been right then. He’d been stressed to the point of wondering if he was going to need blood pressure meds. Maybe the summer before that? Except no, that’s when there’d been all the issues with Iain, and Ash, and then Elspeth, and prior to that there’d been Steve’s death and the band had been on the verge of genuinely splitting. Well technically, they had split when Xane had walked off stage that night, but it had been so short lived, he was apt to overlook it. Had he been fine before that?
“It’s not a trick question, Spook.”
“Fine. Then, no. No, I’m not okay.”
Xane turned his lips to his neck and gave him a kiss. “Anything I can do to help? Anything besides chasing Luthor away again after he’s only just arrived?”
Luthor was actually causing him less anxiety than he’d anticipated, maybe because he was so laid back and genuinely easy to get along with. Nor had he dived in with a host of prying questions or demands for explanations. Wasn’t hard to see why Xane was so enamoured of him. The fact that he was hot and had the sort of body that made movie stars weep didn’t hurt either.
“You can’t fix me, Xane,” he muttered. Hadn’t they already been over this? “There’s not a tube of glue big enough. I don’t mind Luthor being here. It’s probably best for the both of us he is.”
Xane made a rumbly sort of sigh against his shoulder that might have indicated relief or agreement, or a combination of the two.
“I’m still here for you, just know that. Him being here doesn’t change things in that regard.”
“’kay,” he agreed.
If only Xane had been there the first time around after his life split apart, back when he’d holed himself up in his sister’s friend’s cabin and cried himself raw. He’d never cried like that since.
“I thought we could work some more on the album. Maybe show Luthor that track we keep sticking on, see if he’s got any thoughts.”
“Seems reasonable,” he agreed. “Do you need to go check on him, maybe? He’s been gone a bit.”
“Not that long.”
At least ten minutes had passed.
“You don’t think I’ve poisoned him with my cooking?”
“It’s possible.” He shrugged, as much to dislodge Xane’s hold on him as to express an opinion. Their trip into the woods and all that had led to was still less than a day ago, and he’d dreamed last night…. Dreamed of a succession of very different outcomes, some erotic, some violent, all of them sandpapery against his heart.
“Cheek.” Xane batted him playfully, but he went off to check on Luthor, nonetheless.
It wasn’t that Spook intended to eavesdrop, it was just that while the bothy’s external structure was centuries old and formed of preposterously thick stone, the inner dividers were recent and little more than plasterboard. Plus, Xane had left the door open, which meant when Spook sat down on the hearth rug, he could see them out of the corner of his eye. Luthor was staring at the bed.
Xane walked around him and sat down, then pulled his lover into the space between his knees. “What’s the matter?”
