My Gift To You

Chapter Fifteen: Just Nineteen a Sucker’s Dream, I Guess I Thought You Had the Flavor

Benji looked like something the cat threw up when he finally walked through the bar’s doors at eight o’clock. He had taken a sick day to get off work, making sure that he told no one about the real reason as to why he wasn’t going in.

Billy, already nervous about their gig, felt faint when he looked up and saw the other guitarist shuffle his way through the area behind the stage. It was small, but most of the bands were either out in the crowd watching their competition or in one of the dressing rooms. He swallowed thickly and tried to breathe normally when his crush sat down on the ratty couch next to him, their knees touching. It wasn’t intentional, but after all the two had done so far it was impossible to be sure.

“I’m going to throw up,” Benji stated. He looked at the wall in front of him, counting the bricks to keep his mind off of what was going on…it didn’t help.

“Already have,” Billy replied flatly. “Joel tell you that this was a battle of the bands?”

The older man laughed dryly. “No. I’m going to kill him because he had a week in which he didn’t tell any of us.”

Billy nodded, looking around at all the other people in the backstage hallway. “It’s our first show outside birthday parties, though. I guess we shouldn’t be bitching about it.”

Their knees still touching, Benji shrugged. “But there are so many other bands here that are better than us, we don’t stand a chance.” As if the gods were on his side for this statement, the large crowd gathering in the bar cheered wildly as the first band finished up their set. “Like I said,” Benji remarked for emphasis, “we don’t stand a snowball’s chance in Hell of winning this thing. We’ll be here for five hours just to lose. We might as well go home.”

“An attitude like that is the death nail,” Billy pointed out.

Benji got to his feet. “You sound like my mother. It’s really not attractive.”

Not hearing the second sentence, Billy sighed. “It’s true, though.” But he knew that Benji was right. They couldn’t win this thing. It would be a miracle if they got into the finals.

“Come outside with me.”

The sudden change of subject made Billy think he was hearing things. “Pardon?”

Calmly, Benji looked at the younger man. “Come outside with me. I’d smoke in here, but the others don’t know that I do. I’d be up shit creek if Joel found out.” He started walking toward the back door, Billy soon following close behind. When they reached the back exit, Benji put a hand to his friend’s shoulder to stop him.

Slightly confused, Billy stayed where he was and watched as Benji walked out of the building and waited until the door slowly swung closed before opening it again a few minutes later. With an “oh,” Billy caught the metal door before it closed and walked out into the night.

It was bearably chilly in the alley, the occasional car or passerby being the only noise until the two men began to speak to each other.

“I thought you said that you didn’t smoke them all the time.”

Benji lit his cigarette and took a long drag before replying, “I didn’t. I said it takes the edge off.”

“And you’re always on edge?” Billy asked gently.

“You got that right.” He was going to laugh, but scratched that idea when he saw Billy’s reaction. “Sorry. Bad joke. I need something to do, otherwise I’d implode. I’m not a bad person or anything….”

“I never said you were,” Billy said quickly.

They remained silent for eons (at least it seemed like eons) before Benji abruptly stopped smoking and flicked it into one of the the large dumpsters, praying that it wouldn’t start a fire. It didn’t.

“You think we won’t make fools of ourselves….” His sentence trailed off, but Billy thought he knew what Benji meant.

“No. At least I hope not. It’s just one show anyway, they’ll be others. Like the owner said, ‘if you don’t win don’t let it get you down and keep at it.’”

“Yeah, but that’s not what I was talking about,” and again his voice died out before he could finish what he was saying, like he was debating whether or not he should do something. “I mean….”

Billy blinked his eyes, slightly dry from the cold or confusion—damned if he knew. “I’m lost here, just to let you know,” he said, “but don’t hurt yourself thinking just because of me.”

The shorter male walked over to the taller, stood in front of him and continued to speak in partial code. “I’m ready, but I’m not. Torn, you know?”

They were standing awfully close together. God. The mix of cigarette smoke and cologne on Benji was strangely heavenly.

“I think,” Billy ventured to say.

No words were spoken for some time. They stood staring at one another, neither of them caring about their conversation spurts nor anything else for that matter. All they seemed to know was the man they were taking in, how at the same moment they each began to move closer together. Closer, closer….

Never one to make the first move, Billy surprisingly found his lips crashing against Benji’s. It didn’t deter the latter, but seemed to take a great wait off his shoulders.

It was a worldwind of smells, feelings, tastes and emotions that helped the two men be carried off to another world. Soon they forget where they were or why they had even come to the bar, all they cared about and needed was that kiss. It wasn’t anything like those found in the movies because it wasn’t the least bit light and shy. They might have suffocated because they couldn’t seem to remember how to breathe.

Somewhere along the line Benji pushed Billy up against the wall, or was it Billy that pulled Benji? Was Benji’s tongue in Billy’s mouth or was his own tongue in his mouth…how on earth could Billy french kiss himself? Either way, all four hands were moving about wildly, like they were the last two rabbits alive and they were both blind. Hands on necks, chests, asses, under shirts with thumbs caressing nipples. It was like something out of a racy version of Alice In Wonderland. They were in Wonderland all right, but it was of their own making. It was only a matter of time before their desperate need for each other broke through the dam and they found themselves on make-out autopilot. Though they were in an alley and it was not as romantic as either of them had hoped, it was better than not at all.

Eventually the two had twisted around and now Benji was against the hard, brick wall. Hard. That word reverberated in Benji’s head, though he didn’t have a clue as to what it meant. Getting rather uncomfortable he soon noticed that Billy’s lips weren’t on his anymore. He opened his eyes for a few seconds before they shut again. His breath raced out of him when he felt cold fingers at his belt buckle, hurrying to undo it along with the button and zipper to his favorite pair of pants. He would have figured that those were his own hands and that he was back in his bathroom if they weren’t so delicate.

Benji’s legs would have gotten cold if his mind wasn’t going a mile a minute, in dire need of a clear sense to straighten itself out. The pain of banging the back of his head against the red bricks didn’t register when his boxers joined his Dickies at his ankles. The euphoria from the sensation of Billy’s lips wrapping around his cock exploded forth, rocketing through veins and coating nerves, enhancing everything ten fold. Making some kind of noises would have been prudent if his motor skills were working, which they weren’t. But maybe they were and maybe he was, he wouldn’t have known. He was trapped in a ball rolling down a mountain, head over feet and feet over head. It was beautifully disorienting.

He did something that caused Billy to hum, apparently along to some song from a band that sounded a lot like Veruca Salt that was floating around in the background, just out of grasp. Massaging tongues, teeth scraping across skin so gently it was barely felt. So many things were going on at once his brain might have exploded if he hadn’t lost control (or what little he had to begin with) much sooner than he would have hoped. It would have been embarrassing, but Billy seemed more than fine with it and their lips met again. The faint taste of himself was passed on to his own lips, he licked them softly when they broke away from the kiss.

He felt like an idiot, having had his eyes closed through the whole ordeal. When he opened them he saw Billy smiling slightly. Benji grinned, silently reassuring him that there was nothing to worry about—Billy had done a good job even if Benji had lost it too soon for his own taste—and dressed his lower body.

Through the heavy door the faint sounds of cheering were heard, bringing the world back into focus.

Not knowing that to say or even do after all this, they stood as silent as statues. Rubbing the back of his head, brain back to normal and therefor finally feeling the dull pain, Benji cleared his throat and looked at his companion. He waited until the burning of his cheeks died down and his breathing regulated itself before saying, “I guess we should get back inside before they start to worry about us.”

-

They were huddled together on stage right, watching as the bar owner and king of this battle tapped the microphone. “And for the last band of the prelims, please welcome Good Charlotte!” For doing this half the night, the guy hadn’t lost his enthusiasm…though his speeches had become shorter by each band announcement. He looked at the five boys and waved them on stage, taking the shortcut off and jumping down into the group of people which had only grown larger as the night went on.

Joel gave everyone a small smile of encouragement when they were all settled in their places, though it didn’t seem to do anything positive. With a gulp, he turned to the microphone and adjusted the stand, making it squeak loudly once or twice.

For starters he pointed out the obvious. “Hey, everybody, we’re Good Charlotte,” he said through a small veil of nervousness. “We’ll be playing ‘Waldorf Worldwide.’”

Aaron counted to three with his drumsticks and the band started playing, forgetting all about the pressure and having a good time. Some of the crowd jumped to the beat of the bass drum, laughed at Joel’s silly dancing (done on purpose, of course), sang along to the chorus. As far as Billy knew, they were an absolute hit!

They didn’t make it into the finals.

Billy was a twit. A tall, skinny, pale, truly-madly-deeply-hopelessly-in-love-with-his-best-friend’s-twin-brother, blue-eyed twit.

He sat next to Joel at the bar, spinning left and right on his leather stool. They were drinking cokes and watching as the other bands fought it out for the grand prize: all new band equipment and a free hour session at the local recording studio.

“Those lucky bastards,” Billy spat.

“The judges are biased,” Joel replied.

“Biased how?”

Joel shrugged. “I don’t know, but the crowd loved us. We should’ve at least gotten this far.” He waved his hand limply toward the stage where a band called Lucifer’s Hammer were the second finalists. “I mean, that guy can’t sing his way out of a paper bag. You can even understand what he’s screaming about!”

Billy laughed. “Sore loser much?”

Joel huffed as a reply.

With a smug smile, Billy turned back to the band and watched the rather large lead singer try to shove the mic into his throat as he screamed sang, his face redder than a cherry and eyes bugging out of their sockets. “Where’s everyone? They’d love this.”

“Aaron and Paul said they were taking the bus home, something about having a long day tomorrow—I couldn’t hear what they were saying over Mister Death Metal over there. Benji went off with some girl that was hanging all over him, I really don’t want to know what they’re up to. You need a ride home?”

Billy nearly choked to death on his drink. He could only nod grimly and try not to run up to the stage and pick a fight with one of the ginormous band members of Lucifer’s Hammer. They’d be able to snap in half like a tooth pick, and that’s just what he wanted.