literature

Softly caught the penny in his paw - pt 3

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~

Ray can't help being a little bit nervous. He's buzzing a bit, on edge, and of course Frank has to give him a surprise tackle hug while he's tuning his guitar for the third time.

"You know how frustrating that is." Ray huffs and puts his guitar down.

"You love it." Frank grins and remains latched onto Ray. Thankfully Bob has come to save him.

"Dude, if you break Toro, I'll skin you alive." Bob says menacingly, Frank just laughs. "And make you into boots." Bob adds, but he's totally smiling because Frank's giggle is infectious.

It takes Ray a while to spot Mikey from his side of the stage, at the gig. The audience is pretty sizable. Mikey's moving with the crowd, looking as into the music as ever, with that carefree aura. It's kind of a new experience for Ray, because he hasn't really cared about entertaining the audience, or what they think of his appearance in the past. He's now conscious of the fact that he never makes proper eye contact with the crowd. He's aware that he moves with about half the energy that Frank does. Tonight it isn't just about the music. He focuses on Mikey in between singing harmonies, hating that every now and then he has to look down and make sure his fingers are over the right frets.

In the next song Mikey begins to loose himself, like he did when Ray first saw him in this context. His eyes are closed blissfully, swaying and moving in time to the music, as though it is his life blood. As though it completes him. He looks beautiful. Ray's chest feels weird, like his heart is lunging out to try and reach Mikey on it's own. Ray knows he notices the slight slip of his fingers when he stares for too long. He can feel his face burn with a cold fire as he looks to his guitar to correct himself and get back on the right track, thanking the lord that it wasn't on a solo. He also thanks the lord that Frank hasn't made fun of him for it, or done something to sabotage his playing, for which he is often noted.

By the time the band is off stage, he's lost sight of Mikey. No, Mikey is gone. He even scans the bar three times over. Ray deflates, and goes off to the back room again to pack away his guitar and things like the rest of the band. He hopes Mikey liked their songs. He wishes that Mikey could have stayed, at least just to ask him what he thought. It's causing him to start feeling self conscious about his playing.

Ray remains silent as he and Frank ride home with Bob in his car, still internalizing the situation. Frank called shotgun, and is in the front recounting excitedly with Bob just how awesomely all their shit came together that time, and how rabid the crowd was. Ray's ears buzz annoyingly whenever anyone speaks, and he's tired from all the hype. As Bob parks the car, Ray hoists himself out, Frank throws an arm around him and jostles him cheerily.

"Ray, you totally smashed that solo tonight!" He grins with blinding enthusiasm.

"Really?" In all honesty, Ray wasn't really concentrating on that side of things. In fact, he has no idea how good they were tonight. It was like he was playing in a concrete pipe, and Mikey was the only light at the end of it.

"Fuck yeah!" Frank bounces along to the door, juggling his guitar and grabbing his keys out of his pocket to unlock the door. Bob pats Ray on the back.

"You okay?" Bob asks, as Frank disappears into the flat. Ray sighs. "You seem kind of out of it." Bob observes. Ray smiles and rubs his eyes.

"I'm tired. It was really intense tonight." It is the truth,

"Yeah. We nailed it." Bob gives him that little smile he does when he's proud, and walks inside as Ray holds the door open. When Ray turns to walk inside, he thinks he catches a glimpse of something slinking into the shadows of the yard. He stops for a bit, and peers out into the black. Whatever it was, if it was, is gone. Ray shrugs and steps inside, noting how much warmer the weather has gotten.

~                                                                                                                                                                                                              

Ray's stomach and chest are still feeling weird when he retires to his bedroom. It's keeping him awake, actually. After turning over restlessly for the billionth time, he decides to take something – anything, just to get some sleep. All he can be bothered to find is the aspirin on his bedside table, because the medicine cabinet seems too far away. He feels it start to take soothing effect while reading an old issue of 'Watchmen', and sighs in relief. Slumber takes him quickly through his exhaustion.

Ray dreams. He dreams of curling up in that chair with Mikey, under his ridiculous 'Captain America' blanket, enjoying the warmth of the heater. He dreams of holding him tight, as he cries out whatever it is that has him down. He would be there to place little comforting pats upon his back. It's so real, he knows it's a dream, but it's like he can hear the soft little sobs floating over his shoulder. The feathery light press of lips he almost feels against his cheek, at one point.

~
Part 3
Sorry about the length...

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