The game ended and Ryan joined his teammates on the ice in celebration. Wyatt, in his ball cap and clean, dry uniform, had launched into his usual routine. “Whoosh, that was a tough one, boys. Couldn’t have done it without me! Where are we drinking?”
The celebration continued into the locker room. Ryan sat in his stall in one corner and quietly removed his gear as his teammates whooped and hollered and made plans for later that night.
It was Wyatt who thought to ask him. Of course.
“You comin’ out with us?” Wyatt, who hadn’t played and thus hadn’t needed a shower, was already dressed in a dark gray suit, ready to leave the arena.
“Oh, uh, I think I’m gonna head home, actually. I...” Ryan didn’t finish his sentence because he didn’t want to tell Wyatt about his plans. He had decided to go to see Fabian’s show that night. He had been wrestling with the idea all week, and he’d finally decided that his desire to see Fabian perform outweighed his anxiety about going out.
Thankfully, Wyatt didn’t require an explanation. He wouldn’t have been expecting Ryan to accept his invitation anyway. Ryan was sure of that. “See you Monday, then,” Wyatt said. “Have a good day off.”
“Right. Okay. You too.”
Ryan needed to hurry. It was already after ten o’clock. He took the fastest shower ever, and cursed the rule about wearing suits out of the arena after games. He wouldn’t have time to stop at home to change; as it was he needed to haul ass to the club and hope he hadn’t missed Fabian’s set entirely.
When Ryan arrived at the Lighthouse, Fabian was already onstage, but it looked like he was just setting up. The room was quite full, which was good for both the charity the concert was raising money for, and for Ryan, because he would rather Fabian didn’t see him. He didn’t wantanyoneto see him, really. Especially since he was wearing a full suit, which made him stick out even more than he would have anyway. Everyone in the room was dressed casually, but in a way that suggested their outfits had been carefully put together. He saw everything from button-up shirts with loud prints on them, to overalls, to plain white T-shirts and skinny jeans. Definitely no other suits, though.
He stood at the back of the dark room, mindful of his size and not wanting to block anyone’s view, and watched Fabian fiddle with a complicated-looking setup that included several floor pedals, a laptop, and a keyboard. He could also see Fabian’s violin case on the floor behind him. Fabian moved quickly and efficiently between each of the components, occasionally chatting with people in the audience near the stage. Ryan saw him smile and laugh, and he was struck by how surreal it was to see him again as a beautiful and confident adult.
And that was before Fabian was even performing.
The first song started with a simple drum track that Fabian played from his laptop. To that he added layers of music from the keyboard, which he seemed to record and loop using the floor pedals. When he was satisfied with how that sounded, he would add another layer, building a wall of sound all by himself. He moved away from the laptop and keyboard, and picked up his violin, and when he stepped in front of the microphone, Ryan felt like the wind had been knocked right out of him. Fabian stood, alone, under the stage lights in a black, transparent shirt, sleek black pants, and several sparkling necklaces. He was also wearing dramatic makeup—Ryan could tell, even from the back of the room—and it all made him look like a mythical creature or an angel.
Ryan may have gasped a little when Fabian brought the bow to the violin and played the first notes. Ryan had loved listening to him devotedly practice his instrument as a teenager, and hearing it again now was bewildering. The slow, dreamy melody was recorded and looped with the pedals, and then Fabian rested the violin and its bow at his sides, one item in each hand. He turned to the mic, closed his eyes, and sang.
It was the most beautiful thing Ryan had ever heard; haunting in a way that sent sparks dancing down Ryan’s spine and into his abdomen. Fabian’s voice was kind of soft and high, but also clear and confident. The music could probably be called pop, but it was so complex that Ryan wasn’t sure it fit any category. Fabian’s lyrics were cryptic, but they were also unmistakably sexy. Ryan couldn’t quite follow the story of the song, but he definitelyfeltevery word.
He held his breath, not wanting to make even the faintest sound that might compete with this perfect gift Fabian was giving the audience. Ryan couldn’t believe this was actually happening in front of him and that there were people in the world who werenothere witnessing what was surely humanity’s most impressive achievement.
The song ended, the audience erupted into cheers, and Ryan, gobsmacked, nearly forgot to clap. And then he realized that was only thefirst song.
“Thank you,” Fabian said quietly, as if he hadn’t just done something completely amazing. “This next song is new. I haven’t named it yet, but I wanted to try it out tonight, if that’s all right with you.”
There was scattered applause and a few whoops of appreciation. Ryan had considered, as he’d been walking to the club, just staying for a song or two, but there was no way he was going anywhere now. He stood, barely moving, for however long it took Fabian to finish his set. Thirty minutes? Forty? Ryan had no idea how much time had passed because he was transfixed. When the last song finished, Fabian sort of half bowed and blew kisses at the crowd.
The show was over, and Ryan should leave, but now he really wanted to talk to Fabian. Just to tell him how much he had enjoyed the show. Fabian hopped off the stage and Ryan lost sight of him for a while. He considered getting a beer, or maybe finding a table to sit at, now that some of the people were starting to clear out. Instead, he leaned back against the wall and stared at the floor for a few minutes, just to keep himself from obsessively scanning the crowd for Fabian.
It was probably twenty minutes later when Ryan saw Fabian standing alone next to an empty table, drinking from a bottle of water. Ryan decided this was his chance, and took a step toward him. He ran a hand quickly over his beard, hoping he looked all right.
He stopped in his tracks when he saw a man wrap his arms around Fabian. Fabian beamed at the man, and kissed him quickly on the mouth. The man was stocky, with skin slightly darker than Fabian’s, and he was wearing a stylish outfit complete with dark-rimmed glasses. He wascute. And of course Fabian had an adorable boyfriend.
The man’s hand stayed on Fabian’s arm as they chatted.Possessive, Ryan thought. He didn’t blame him. But he did hate him a little.
Jesus. What the hell gave him the right to think badly of Fabian’s boyfriend? Ryan didn’t know the guy. Ryan didn’t knowFabian. Ryan needed to get out of this bar. He didn’t belong here. This was why he never went anywhere. This was why he was so fucking lonely. He was about to turn away when Fabian suddenly locked eyes with him.
Shit.
Fabian’s face broke into a smile, and he gently tapped the other man’s arm before making his way to Ryan.
“Ithoughtthat was you,” Fabian said. He was still smiling—a full, delighted smile that showed his teeth. Ryan realized his own mouth was just sort of hanging open, like a dead fish.
“Hi. I, um, was just—you mentioned you were playing here. Tonight. When we were talking last week. In the, um...”
Fabian stepped closer. “I remember. I didn’t expect you to actually come.”
“Sorry. I probably shouldn’t have—”
“No! No, I’m glad you’re here. It’s...really sweet. Actually.”
