Page 45 of Faithful

“Just 'cause you’re gay doesn’t give you the right to flash your ass around the apartment, Watson!” Leigh jokingly calls from the kitchen as I dash to my room. “Because I’m still straight and like the eye candy.”

“Gross, Farley. I’m like your brother!”

“Hot brother!” She cackles.

“You saw nothing.” Then I slam the door shut behind me.

The livestream is about to start, and I power up my laptop while wrestling my still-damp legs into a pair of clean sweatpants.

My phone pings somewhere on the floor and I realize I must have dropped it earlier. When I swoop it up into my palm, there’s a text message preview. From Kai.

K: enjoy the show

Somehow I feel that he means something entirely different from what most people would deduce from this combination of words.

I open up the band’s Facebook page and click on the pinned link at the top of the feed. The link takes me to a dark screen colored in shades of red, black, and brown that remind you–if you look carefully enough–of streaks of spilled blood dripping down the screen almost as if someone on the other side smashed a blood bag into it in a moment of anger.

There’s a countdown too right above the window where I’m supposed to type in the credentials to be able to access the live feed.

I don’t know why I log on while standing in the center of my room with my laptop cradled against the crook of my arm, but eventually I move to the bed and settle against the headboard.

The camera is static, directed at the small stage filled with fog. The crowd is dense, and many people are wearing costumes, anything from sexy nurses to Pennywise. There’s no pit, but there’s a line of security guards instead. A human barrier that’s supposed to ensure people don’t rip Kai apart if given an opportunity.

I feel a stab of fear, but I clamp down on it immediately.

It’s useless to be scared for him.

When the lights dim so much that nothing but the outline of bodies moving in the direction of the instruments is visible, the audience goes berserk. Feet stomp and hands clap. There’s a roar too. A wild one.

The sounds that pour out from the tiny speakers of my laptop are simply a poor imitation of what’s happening in New York at this very moment, but goosebumps still riddle my skin.

It’s like the space between the East Coast and Seattle has suddenly shrunk and the music is reaching through that warped tunnel, caressing me with its gentle hands.

The band follows the same routine they’ve been following for months now. Fingers, Danny, Finn, and Ben take the stage first, riling up the crowd to the point of madness.

Kai shows up last.

He’s wearing a long coat and his hair is loose and a little tangled. His face is painted white, and his eyes are ringed by generous lines of black that are smeared down his cheeks into tear-shaped designs.

It makes him look unnecessarily sad. Comic book character sad.

Danny is sporting a curly wig and I’m guessing he’s supposed to be someone famous but I’m drawing a blank here. My eyes are locked on one person only.

Kai.

I sit on my bed, back pressed to the headboard and the laptop settled on the covers.

Finn is the one who gives a small speech after the band rips through the first song.

He’s also got some paint on his mug (I mean it’s Halloween after all) and he’s wearing something very nineties. Basically, nobody on stage but Kai looks like they are part of Iodine.

The crowd inside the club is loving it. The people are there for the vibe and the music, and they are eating it up.

There are plenty of generous shots of the audience, their eyes filled with a dark joy I’m very familiar with. It’s the kind that liberates you from the weight of the world on your shoulders.

During the guitar solo in song number three, Kai pats his pockets and pulls out a pack of cigarettes. The camera pans to capture the brand. I already know they’re Parliaments before I see the logo fill the screen. He lights one up right there on the stage in front of the microphone while Danny is playing his heart out.

The moment Kai takes his first drag, his face changes. The faint lines around his eyes and mouth relax and fade away.

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