Page 66 of Faithful

balcony

Kai does what he’s never done before. He sends me a kissing emoji followed by a winking one.

* * *

I’ve seen Iodine perform more than once but tonight feels different. I’m not sure if it’s because Kai has written a song about us and is about to sing it or because I’m developing an unhealthy attachment to him.

I’m on my third Old Fashioned when the band finally takes the stage. My mind is pleasantly foggy, and my body is weightless, and I’m surrounded by all these anticipatory whispers that make my skin crawl.

As always, the lights are dimmed low, and reds are the prevalent colors.

They come out one by one in their usual order. Fingers touches the keyboard and creates a sound. That sound pierces through the hum of the club, fills every corner, and instigates a riot in the front row.

My heart rate doubles when Kai appears from the obscurity of the fog. He’s the exact opposite of Bash, quiet and aloof, and that only incites people more.

He tears through the first four songs with no effort whatsoever, his voice silky and sad and very familiar. I heard those very same moans when I fucked him.

The thought makes me hard.

Shit.

I down the rest of my drink in one go.

Inhale. Exhale.

I consider going to the restroom to jerk off.

The song comes to an end and Finn gives a small speech.

One glance at him and my cock deflates. I hate his guts that much. I don’t even know why. He’s just always been an asshole to me and the fact that he scrapped a video they recorded with my sister pisses me off.

Forty minutes into the set, after another crowd favorite fromBlack Mass(the one with the bewitching lyrics), Kai finally talks.

He’s right in the center, in front of the mic stand where he’s been ever since he stepped foot on this stage. He’s wearing one of his signature coats–long, black, with metal studs on the lapels. His hair is down. It’s damp at his temples and sticking to the sides of his face. The generous eyeliner around his eyes only makes them seem bigger and deeper. Like an ocean right before the storm. He’s not close enough for me to see him clearly but when the camera recording the show pans to his face and feeds the images to the large monitors on either side of the stage, it’s right there–his gaze–out on the display for everyone present to see. To get lost in.

“What’s up, Vegas?” Kai says, patting his pockets and pulling out a pack of Parliaments.

It’s his first cigarette during this set, which is a record for him. I suppose he’s taking this wholequitting per the label’s requestthing to heart.

The audience responds with a shriek.

“We wrote a new song,” Kai continues but is interrupted by another roar of the crowd.

Phones fly up. The entire venue is alight all of a sudden.

“I take it you wanna hear it, yeah?” he asks with a smirk, lighting up a cigarette.

More screaming.

“Alright, alright. Let’s do this.” He plucks the mic from the stand and starts walking along the edge of the stage. “This is called ‘Kneel.’”

* * *

Fuzzy-headed and not quite recovered, I return to our hotel right after Iodine’s set because Kai texts me as soon as the band is offstage to let me know he’s going to meet me at the suite once they wrap up for the night.

My ears are still ringing and my pulse jackrabbiting when I finally get to the hotel.

The floor is quiet, and I make it to Kai’s (our?) room unnoticed.

---