Iridescence: gold and bottle–blue and beetle–green. Wings snapped off mayflies in summer snowfall. The colour of frost in the early dawn. This is deception: dizzying and fractal and remorseless. These are the marks of false gods, their poisonous playthings, their breath to still the morn.
This is the stuff of dreams.
Greyscale: the gush of smoke slipping through trembling fingers. The heat of dark, long after the fires are extinguished. The sound of silence, beating hearts and bated breath. This is mourning: hollowed and ragged and bitter–rich. These are the marks of the people, their fragile existences on a hostile earth.
"Y'know Magoo," Peter grinned. The chemist had cacooned himself with the soft blankets that covered Matt's bed. Matt tilted his head towards the younger man's direction, waiting for what he had to say while removing his Muey Thai Ropes.
"I think there's something good about us."
Matt raises his eyebrows, lip curling upward as he drops the ropes in the trunk where he kept his gear. Peter was working on a new suit for him, as the chemist had been horrified by what he called 'kinky pajamas'.
"You'll have to be more specific, darling," Matt knelt down on the bed, grinning as Peter enveloped him into the warmth of the blankets. The smell of the two of them, woven into the fabric was far more comforting than smell of blood on Matt's so-called 'kinky pajamas'.
The lawyer still wasn't getting over that.
"I mean like, poetic." Peter mumbled into his neck.
"Poetic?" Matt asked skeptically.
Suddenly, Matt's back was pressed against his mattress and the lawyer found himself raising his eyebrows again. Peter hummed.
"Yeah," Peter pressed a quick kiss to Matt's lips, "There's definitely something poetic about the spider laying down with the devil in silk sheets."
Matt laughs and senses Peter's proud grin before pulling down the younger hero's face. Their lips meet in full and maybe, maybe Peter's right.
Maybe there's a little poetry left in Matt's heart after all.
I got tired of writing short stories so instead, I wanted to write something longer and continue with the Stadium Tour series.
I tried something new in my writing and had these poems stuck in my head so I couldn't resist using them.
-
Chapter 1: Prelude
~***~
My weakness, my fragility,
My dream, my passion,
My lust for life, the reason for walking on this Earth.
You are my everything.
~***~
The chirring of crickets and the screams of psychedelic colored paradise birds were deafening as he tried his best to proceed in the lush jungle. He was swearing at himself - why he had chosen to wear these unpractical, tight clothes again and why on earth he hadn’t taken a machete with him? Even his dreams were referring to his fashion sense and a lack of preparation for harsh conditions. Richard was still determined: in his heart, he knew that he had to continue, at any costs, even though he wasn’t sure why he was here.
His attention was caught by a movement - an animal? No, it couldn’t be: he heard laughter so it had to be actually someone. Adrenaline rushed in his veins - he couldn’t even believe how fast he was able to run in the difficult conditions with the aid of the hormone.
“Wait!” he shouted when he got a glimpse of a silhouette vaguely, but the figure was still too far. He took a sprint - he couldn’t afford to lose him now when he was so close.
After wading his way through the bushes, Richard had scratches and bruises everywhere. He wondered did he got bitten by a snake as well while his left foot was swollen, but now it didn’t matter - he had something more important to think about.
The jungle ended to a cave and on the entrance of it was the figure he’d been chasing.
Of course, it was him.
“Paul, thank God you are here. What is this all about? What the hell is this lousy place anyway, let’s get out of here.”
The other man smirked but didn’t reply anything - he seemed like he had lost his ability to speak. Instead, he made his way to the cave.
Richard grabbed his fellow guitarist from his arm, refusing to lose him now when he was so close. “Paul, for Christ’s sake, give me answers!”
But Paul shook himself out of the grip and then he was gone - vanished like in thin air. Not a single word, or any kind of hint he had even noticed that Richard had been talking to him.
“Answers, I need answers…” Richard kept repeating. He didn’t even know what answers he wanted - it was like a fixation in his head. “I need answers…and I need you…”
The first dream ended, and it was followed by a brief pause - like a commercial break of his subconscious mind.
Now he was in another setting. Once again, he didn’t have any clue what place it was exactly, but it sure was pleasant with all the palm trees on a long white beach and sun shining brightly. He knew he was looking for something, but he couldn’t put his finger on, what or who - the memories from the last dream had vanished with the commercial break.
But he didn’t have to ponder that for very long when something caught his interest.
When Richard came closer, he saw it more clearly what was it about: Paul was there with a company of a lot of men and to Richard’s horror, they were way younger - and in his opinion, way better looking - than him. He couldn’t help it but think that what kind of orgy was this.
“What’s going on in here?” he asked and didn’t want to admit the twitch of jealousy in his belly.
“Well, I’m just enjoying my life the fullest.” At least in this dream, Paul seemed to able to speak.
“That sure looks nice,” Richard said and looked around, “can I join you?”
Paul glanced at the other man with narrow eyes. “No, this is my life now, you get your own,” he burst out and laughed, with unusual cruelty. “You really fucking think I’d want to spend my precious life with you? Oh, Kruspe, how naïve you really are...”
Richard blinked his eyes. “B-but we have known for ages… I-I thought we were friends…”
“In that case, I suggest you think again, you lousy example of a human being.” Paul came closer and hissed: “You repulse me… get out of my life. I don’t need you. In fact, my life is much better without you. Our friendship was the biggest mistake I ever made.”
Richard couldn’t believe what he heard. “W-what about all those moments we spent together? The time we…we…kissed?”
“Don’t you even dare to remind me of that disgusting event.” Paul turned his back, leaving Richard sobbing alone at the paradise beach. ”You can still keep dreaming on, I don’t really care!” he shouted the one last time before he was gone.
“Don’t leave me like this…” Richard sobbed, but nobody could hear him. “I…love you.”
The torment ended when Richard woke up to his own screaming - he thanked God that he was alone. Panting heavily on the edge of a panic attack he sat up and threw the sweaty bedsheets away. It was annoying to admit that the nightmares were back but this time, they weren’t about the tour stress - it was something more complicated.
Always when he tried to bury something unpleasant to his subconscious mind, it kept coming back whatever he tried to do.
~***~
Oh how desperately I beg you,
To answer my call,
In the void of the darkest hour.
~***~
“Prost!” the six men yelled cheerfully, taking their tradition tequilas to soothe the nervousness of the upcoming concert. Sharing shots together was supposed to bring good luck - but as the legend told the luck was involved only if you remembered to look at each of your drinking buddies straight in the eyes.
But the one particular pair of eyes Richard desperately wanted to have contact with, ignored him.
“Okay, gotta keep going, we have a show to play,” Paul said and left the room in a hurry. Richard was sure that his friend suddenly turned busy on purpose because he was there.
It had become too familiar: all he had seen from Paul during recent weeks was his back, always heading somewhere.
Somewhere, where Richard wasn’t.
After all, it seemed that the stadium tour - with all its hardships and countless hours of groundwork, arguments and sleepless nights - had started out as a success. Even though performing was Richard’s natural element and he had been waiting for this eagerly, now all the fame and attention felt nonchalant - something was bothering him constantly, like an itch you couldn’t get rid of no matter how hard you tried.
That something was that they hadn’t had proper communication with Paul after that one faithful night - it was already several weeks ago. Richard didn’t even dare to recall how many weeks really.
They both seemed to become masters of excuses: either they were too tired, too busy or something interrupted them when things could have had a chance to get too deep. And what was the worst, was that how evidently Paul avoided him.
I can’t keep going on like this.
Blinking back upcoming tears Richard suddenly realized that he was the only one in the room. Why hadn’t they say anything? Maybe they had, but he had been so deeply in his own thoughts that he hadn’t noticed anything.
For fuck’s sake, try to concentrate now. You have a job to do.
Forcing himself to act, Richard walked to the backstage, grabbing his instrument on the way. His bandmates were already doing their pre-concert rituals when he arrived. Till was opening his voice, isolated in the darkest corner possible. It made him lose his focus if somebody stared at his awkward humming and stretching. For everyone’s relief, Flake had finished his walk already and was for once ready on time. Usually, he tended to take a stroll just in the last minute, losing the sense of time and leading him to arrive late back to the venue - it wasn’t once or twice when the keyboardist had gotten scolding from the others. Even though how modest man Flake was, he was irreplaceable - Du hast or Sehnsucht without keyboard effects would be a disaster. Schneider was doing push-ups - he claimed that exercising helped to handle the physical symptoms of stress. Oliver seemed to be deeply in his own thoughts in a yoga pose, being the calmest of them while Paul was simply being himself, sitting on the floor and smiling - he didn’t have any specific rituals. Richard did the usual: fiddling the fretboard, repeating over and over the riffs he could play even in his dreams. Still, he had all kinds of horror scenarios in his head from a broken string to a guitar being in wrong tuning.
The nerve-wracking waiting seemed to last forever and forever but when Duo Jatekok had hit its last melodies, the roaring audience was desperately waiting to see the reason they had come to the stadium in the first place.
Till appeared from his isolation back with the others. “Okay guys, this is it then.” They formed a circle together and held hands. “Let’s hope the muse is with us tonight and let’s kick some ass - let’s show them something they’ve never seen before. And most importantly, we’ll stick together and support each other, whatever happens there.
Amen.”
“Amen,” they all replied. The atmosphere was ardent - music was indeed like a religion for them.
They placed themselves on the line which had been rehearsed probably a thousand times already. The opening was supposed to be a dramatic introduction of the band, Schneider going there first to pierce the souls of the audience with his mesmerizing bass drum.
While Richard stood right behind their drummer, breathing shallowly, out of nowhere he felt a hand squeezing his shoulder gently. “Vielen Glück.”
When he turned, he startled when he saw who it was. “Good luck to you too…Paul,” Richard replied with a slightly trembling voice and hoped it wasn’t too noticeable.
“Let’s have a hell of a show and see you on the stage.” Paul smiled so adorably that Richard’s heart melted just a tiny bit.
“Yeah, same to you….” he mumbled when the other guitarist was already back in his own place.
The focus was once again gone. Richard exhaled and closed his eyes. Okay, now concentrate for Christ’s sake. Emotional shit can wait. Don’t let your feelings ruin your performance. Let’s deal with this later.
In his heart he knew that tonight, after the concert, he had to do something for this situation - it couldn’t continue like this, them both avoiding each other and just occasionally communicating awkwardly. It was far from normal when even Paul’s slightest presence alarmed him. Overanalyzing had already made him crazy.
Richard decided that tonight, he had to stop being a coward and drag Paul somewhere and tell him.
But what could he say exactly?
It was difficult to tell but at least he wished from the bottom of his heart that they could be their normal selves again if it was even possible anymore.
I have to do it. Tonight. No lousy excuses anymore.
Richard wasn’t sure which one was more stressing: playing a concert for thousands of people or confessing his love and longing for his long-time friend.
In this case, perhaps, the latter.
After an announcement in Spanish, the atmosphere turned serious and nobody spoke or joked anymore. Even though how many times they had done this it was always like the first time - every concert acted as it’s own and you’d never know what was going to happen. That was the scariest, yet the most fascinating part of being a musician and this was the thing Richard knew he was born to do. He was totally hooked to the feeling music was able to give him - it was like a drug, but a million times better.
He also knew that he couldn’t get rid of this group of friends he had grown so attached to during the many years spent together. His destiny was bound to them - especially to the one for whom he was ready to do anything. Even throw himself into a lion’s den, if necessary.
When Royal Fireworks’ last notes faded, Schneider took a step forward and raised his thumb up, turning to his bandmates the one last time. “Let’s give them a night of their lives,” he whispered, before entering the stage with a smirk.
Richard squeezed his guitar with sweaty hands - only a couple of seconds was left for his turn. “Please, don’t fail tonight,” he muttered at himself. Give me strength for this and for the rest of the evening, whatever will happen, he prayed in his mind but didn’t know to whom exactly.
We sat in a crowded restaurant, Juggling serious talks and trying to muffle our loud laughs. When silence creeped in, You looked at me and asked me what I was thinking about.. Probably because you realized that although our voices had left us, my eyes never left you. Without hesitation, without thought, My mouth opened and involuntarily five words spewed out of my mouth like all the alcohol consumed the morning after. I want to marry you. I want to marry you. I want to marry you. You did that little thing where you try to keep a straight face, but your body can't help but smile. You tried to hide your face. You tried to not let me know that those five words were a perfect harmony in your ears.
