01
June 2012.
-cancelled!”
Andrew Minyard was not a believer; not in luck, destiny or any god.
Andrew Minyard is not a believer, to believe is to have faith and hope; two things that he was very devoid of throughout his entire childhood. At the age of five he had already made up his mind that no one would come to save him and that in reality, he did not deserve the hell he was going through.
He did not believe in anything other than promises, and even so, right now he feels like a man with very bad luck. Maybe that is the only luck, the only real one, he thought sarcastically, while he took out his cell phone. Just a few weeks ago the Unheard : Screaming Tour had ended with a resounding success for the band The Monsters and the record company had given them a little break to allow themselves to breathe after months of singing in stadiums.
››My flight was cancelled.
It was obvious that at the first sign of rest, Nicky would fly out to see his beloved German Toyboy; Andrew knew his cousin, he knew how he acted. That's why, unlike Aaron, he wasn't surprised that the rest of the band was invited to Germany weeks after Nicky himself arrived. Nicky was the kind of person who would do anything for his family, who wore his heart on his sleeve and loved fiercely and loyally; if you add to that the fact that they met the famous Erik only once, it was logical that the couple wanted a family reunion.
Nicky's response came in the form of a lot of crying and worried emojis. Andrew, as always, ignored it until he became a little more rational.
Annoyance 3
›› I told Erik
and he told me that it seems to be happening in several places in Europe
smth about the winds and risky seasons
wtf it's summer, there's not supposed to be a problem with the wind!!!
››Damn British.
Andrew rubs his temples, but doesn't allow himself to sigh. His limbs are heavy and his brain feels half fried; as cherry on the cake, his skin is almost raw after spending so many hours surrounded by people he doesn't know. He was out of his comfort zone and riding a plane thousands of meters high. All he wants right now is to eat something and sleep.
His cousin's boyfriend was probably right. Andrew had listened to a woman's monotonous voice at the airport for half an hour, announcing each of the cancelled flights, which suffice it to say were quite a few. If the foreign faces around him were any indication, he wouldn't be the only one looking for a place to spend the night. So not only did he have to find a hotel, he'd have to find one that had space.
Annoyance 3
››Where are you planning to stay overnight?
››I'll have to find out.
Annoyance 3
››didn't Kevin go on vacation there a while ago? you might ask
So that's what he did, the chat with Kevin was almost empty. The guitarist responded with an incredibly long and detailed audio that Andrew didn't listen to even half of, he only recorded the two names of the hotels the man had stayed at, googled them and looked at the closest one. At this point he didn't record any of the reviews.
The weather is illegally cold for summer. The night is so dark and the sky is so cloudy that for a second the idea of rain doesn't seem nonexistent. He got into the first cab he saw. The name Eden's Twilight sprang from his lips.
Annoyance 2
››This is why I maintain the superiority of Daydrem Resort over Eden's Twilight
I'm telling you, it was garbage
There wasn't even a gym
And it was always full of noise
Andrew just rolls his eyes and pays, thankful that he changed the dollars at a currency exchange in Columbia. After taking the suitcase out of the trunk he looks at the front of the business; He thinks he knows why Kevin seemed to hate the place where he stayed for just one night. Despite all the shitty situation and life the guitarist once lived, he had grown up as a rich kid. It was no wonder he felt intimidated by the wide and somewhat low place, with a black facade and a giant neon sign.
If he could maybe have a moment to relax, he thinks he could feel comfortable in the place. The first floor is almost a pub, there is a bar, several tables and a small stage, but there is no dance floor. The dark environment lit only by warm lights, the hanging posters give everything a vintage atmosphere.
“Do you have rooms available?”
And that was it. The uniformed man nodded, talked about packages, offers and things he didn't pay much attention to. He focused on paying. The next thing he knew he was taken up some stone stairs almost hidden in a corner.
It's only when he sits on the bed and locks the door that he allows himself to sigh, to let down his guard a little (but never completely, never). Then it hits him.
Fuck, he's hungry.
Late September, 2012.
“You're not eating that, Nicholas!”
“Watch me do it, Day.”
No matter how many fights there have been, how many anguished moans and ugly faces he's seen from Aaron. The journey from Germany to the United States can only be described in one way: boring. Andrew can perfectly separate his life into two. The agony and suffering followed by monotony and boredom (he consciously ignores the voice inside him that says life is actually divided into a before Neil Hatford and an after Neil Hatford). The feeling of heaviness and annoyance flooding his body is something he's already accustomed to and has been for years.
The only thing keeping him grounded in reality, aside from the constant vigil around him, is the weight of the cat cage pulling at his left hand. Nicky had made a scandal and begged to name her once Andrew arrived in Dortmund; he had made a face of disappointment when he found out that he already had a name that wasn’t “cat.” Erik comforted him, while a knowing smile spread across his face when he looked at Andrew. He didn’t like it.
It's their manager, Danielle Wilds, who picks them up at the airport. Dan is a fierce woman in every way, fierce in defending her ideals, fiercely protective of those she considered her own. That last bit is something Andrew could respect, if perhaps the woman wasn't so morally righteous.
“I swear I'll marry that man.” Dan at least has the decency to let the boys ramble on about their vacation. She doesn't ask Andrew, but she's known for years that she'll get information from the drummer only if he was willing to share it first. She merely raises an eyebrow at the presence of the animal.
“Now guys. Work,” she says as they all sit down at the coffee table in her living room.
Nicky lets out a long groan of frustration and Aaron grimaces. “We just got here, Wilds.”
“I know, but the higher-ups are pushing and Wymack can't hold them back forever. They had three whole months of vacation.”
“And everyone know how long the songwriting process takes, and worse yet, organizing a tour, a video and the whole campaign,” Kevin adds.
“That's why I hope you’ve written at least something these months,” She says as she looks between Kevin and Andrew, the band's two songwriters. Kevin grimaces.
There is a yellowed notebook, stained with crepe batter and earl grey, stuffed into the pockets of his cargo pants. It feels suddenly heavy and his heart tightens. Andrew doesn’t want anyone to see through it; to see the hands that wrote on eyes as blue as entire oceans, that wrote about a love what it feels like sunlight. Hands with calluses that everyone thinks are only good for swinging knives and hitting drums but that in just two months learned to touch, to wash strands of hair with delicacy, that narrowed a waist with reverence and learned braille on a body made of scars.
Andrew, in a moment of weakness, allowed himself to write two unique songs. Nothing more and nothing less; because somehow Andrew Minyard would have to forget Neil Hatford and everything that once surrounded his presence.
There had been no shouting or fighting, no arguments and only a little crying. They both knew it would all end when Andrew left, they knew it from the start. They never even called it a relationship, never said the words “boyfriend” (though they never denied it either, he thinks bitterly). That night they cuddled in the king-sized bed and Andrew, in a moment of weakness, kissed away every tear that could escape Neil’s eyes. That level of vulnerability was horrible, it turned his stomach. He didn’t understand how one person’s anguish could have so much power over Andrew himself.
“What’s the new album going to be about?” he asks, folding his arms. Dan sighs.
“We’ve got a lot of work ahead of us.”
Everyone around the table groans.
June 2012.
Andrew pulls out the most comfortable clothes he can find in his suitcase; this is one of the rare moments when he is not bothered by the mess or what he is going to wear.
Once he finishes the whole process he finally feels a hunger that makes his stomach growl; airport food is disgusting. He goes down to the first floor with sweatpants and a black t-shirt, battle boots; cigarettes and cell phone well tucked into his pockets.
He goes down the stone stairs that almost seem to him a bad imitation of the stairs of the Gryffindor common room in Harry Potter. He glances at his cell phone while he waits for his soup; he has no idea why a place like that would sell tomato soup, but Andrew would not look the teeth on a gifted horse; he informs Nicky that he already has a room, tells Kevin to go fuck himself and leaves Aaron on read. He brings his coffee without cream but with an obscene amount of sugar to his lips, looking at the Led Zeppellin and David Bowie posters with a superficial interest. Kevin was right, this place never seemed to be quiet; no matter who was doing what, it seemed like every action was accompanied by the murmur and background noise of other people having conversations at other tables.
Andrew surprises himself by jumping when the crowd inside the place applauds, suddenly shaking him from his own thoughts. Then the first chords of You Know I’m No Good ring out.
“Meet you downstairs in the bar and hurt
Your rolled up sleeves and your skull t-shirt
You say: What did you do with him today?
And sniffed me out like I was Tanqueray”
The voice singing is not, as he expected, feminine. Instead the tone of a man echoes through the room. There was something about the whole experience that made his skin tingle in something entirely different, reminding him of states filled with screaming people and out-of-tune cashiers of hundreds of people together.
Andrew Minyard looks up and his eyes meet a cold hell. Blue. Blue. He can only think. Bright with a maddening passion. Blue.
The man smiles. Free and wild.
Oh.