Page 77 of Hi-Voltage
“I don’t think he thinks I’m serious.”
“Make him understand then.”
The train pulled into the station and Reno didn’t have time to think about how he would make Luka understand anything before Kandi was herding them along with Cane and the rest of the staff. The venue was a short car ride from the station, and the whole time, Reno sat silently watching as Kandi fussed over every detail for the evening. Lost in thought, he still hadn’t said a word to anyone by the time he got into the chair in the cramped greenroom space for hair and makeup.
“What are you feeling tonight?”
“What?” Reno looked at the stylist through the mirror. She was holding up several makeup palettes. “Oh, um.”
She gave him a sympathetic look. “What is this now, month five?”
“Six, actually.” Reno was starting to lose track of just how long he’d been on the road. He wanted to go back to his bed; one night was not nearly enough. He knew as soon as he warmed up for the show, he would feel differently, though. His guitar in his hands felt better than his bed did. “Let’s do purple.”
“Oh, that’s fun.” She smiled at him before digging through her bag.
Once the setting spray was in place and his hair was styled with a few braids and clips, he thanked her and left to find the rest of his band, who had finished before he did. He saw they had already started on photos for the night and when he joined them, Sebastian hugged him, tucking his chin over Reno’s head.
He said, low enough for the others not to hear, “I know I give you a lot of shit, but I actually am happy for you. Bring him to London, stay in town, be at home with him. You need rest.”
Reno pushed away softly. “You need rest, too.”
“Don’t make this about me. Come on, I’ll take your polaroids.”
The rest of the tour flew by. Between shows, meet-and-greets, recording and editing his vlog, photo shoots, a small pit stop in Nice to see Arnaud’s parents and sleep in his big house, and of course, writing music, Reno was running on too little sleep and a lot of caffeine.
The song Reno had introduced when they were in London had taken shape and was clocking in well over the five-minute mark. They were starting the lyrics, for which Sebastian had already provided invaluable help, since Reno could trust him not to tease Renotoomercilessly for writing something so personal.
Every week that passed, Reno found himself winding up tighter and tighter, until the energy he gave out on stage was almost manic. The band was thriving from it, hyped up with him, but Reno would tear off the stage at the end of the night still feeling like he could dance for hours. He’d dragged Jaewon out a few times to go clubbing, which helped somewhat, but it didn’t get rid of the itch under his skin.
It was because Luka was barely texting him.
He tried hard—reallyhard—not to be crazy about it, and he’d somehow managed to keep his mounting desperation out of his texts. But the time difference was staggering. By the time Luka was awake, half the time, Reno was engaged in some event for the tour or for a brand, or the other half he’d be trying to catchup on sleep before, once again, reporting for call time. And after, once Luka was off work and free to talk, Reno would be just getting off stage.
All the questions, the conversations, the big life things he wanted to figure out with Luka, were on pause until the tour ended. And, when they finally boarded the flight from Istanbul to London, Reno wanted to cry. He’d been so patient. He’d been so good. He was almost home.
At the airport, he said goodbye to everyone in Hearts n Hell,trying not to mind Christoph’s exaggerated devastationat their impending separation. But, he was completely distracted from anything Christoph had to say when he watched Sebastian sneak a kiss to Angel’s cheek when he thought no one was looking, telling them he would see them in a week. Angel had turned so pink, Reno knew he hadn’t imagined it. He was going to tease Sebastian so much once he’d gotten a full night of sleep.
He texted Luka as soon as they landed in London, knowing he would still be at work for a few more hours.
Luka
Just got to London. I'll be asleep by the time you get off but I' setting an alarm for 10pm your time. Please, please, let me hear your voice. I'll finally be alone.
It wasn’t like Reno and Luka hadn’t talked over the last month. They had called each other when they could, but Reno had to carefully ration what little privacy he could steal on tour. First, he practiced his violin, then he called his mother. He’d call Luka afterwards and only catch him about half of the time. Luka kept a busy social life, it seemed. Reno admired it, enjoying that Luka was loved by the people around him, and that he had a world outside of his job and their conversations.
They’d started to really get to know each other. One of the beautiful things about long distance, Reno supposed, was that it forced them to connect through talking and texting. So, even though they hadn’t spent much time talking and texting, Reno felt like they had already done a speed run of the ‘getting-to-know-each-other’ phase. He’d been filled in on so many of Luka’s desires, his interests and hobbies, his friends, and his life in general.
Yet, over the last week of the tour, the texts had grown further and further apart, and more often than not, Luka was busy whenever Reno was able to call.
It was fine. It really was. Reno understood being busy; he understood it so well that he could say he understood it better than anyone else. But it didn’t help the sinking feeling in his gut when he scrolled up into his and Luka’s chat and saw the texts growing shorter, more sparse.
Luka
I will answer when you call. Welcome home.
Thank you thank you thank you. Never thought I would be so happy to hear English.
I can imagine
