Chapter Text
Markus couldn’t help but lose himself in the sound that was slowly surrounding him. It seemed to consume the entirety of The Clone, a small bar that had quickly become the place to see shitty bands like themselves perform. Detroit didn’t exactly have a true punk scene, but he liked to think that The Clone was the infamous Masque for their city. It sure was the only place to truly experience punk in the whole goddamn city. He often thought the city was truly still living in the 60s and the thought was deeply disturbing to him.
However, in the smokey shadow of stage, it was easy to forget time itself existed. It was as if his heart had always beat in the erratic rhythm of Josh’s bass drum, and North had always been born to dance drunk with a bass guitar, and Simon’s chipped black nails were made to march up and down the neck of a guitar. In these pauses between lyrics, Markus always loved watching the rest of his friends consumed by their own part in this intricate dance.
He washed down his thoughts with the last swig of the now warm PBR before throwing the empty can into the crowd, which only responded by throwing cans both empty and full back at them as he resumed his place as the mic stand now covered in stale beer. He’d be lying if he said the smell of cheap beer and cigarette smoke hadn’t become a comfort to him. He wondered what his father would think to see him like this.
Carl was by no means conservative but he was sure seeing him drunkenly screaming into a mic, shirt long abandoned, drinking from a half full can recently thrown at him would shock the old man to say the least. Markus could care less though, in just the few months he lived at the Jericho Apartments he had felt more at peace then he ever had. Don’t get him wrong, his room was shit and the building was basically free range for drugs and sex. He’d been surprised that everyone just seemed to wander from room to room, there was no such thing as privacy at Jericho and that was what he loved about it.
No one cared who you were or where you came from. And by pure chance he had met the best friends he’d even known. He happened to rent the room next to North’s, who that first day kindly offered to help him move some things, which actually meant taking one box and flirting non stop. Markus wished he could say he hadn’t given in and had sex with her after a few beers, but he had. However, it blossomed into an almost perfect friends with benefits relationship.
Markus couldn’t be bothered by that now though it was far too easy to just let his mind wander when he was on stage like this. He no longer even thought about the words coming from his mouth as he sang the familiar lyrics. Instead he chose to look at the crowd. Even though the club was small, the floor was crowded with people. However, as the beer continued to set in the movement made him just a little nauseous. But the sight was too much to keep his eyes off of. It was pure chaos, all color and smoke as the people seemed to sway as one. A kaleidoscope of youth and rebellion. Oddly enough it reminded him of Carl’s paintings.
A mess of colors that came together to make something so beautiful. Each individual came as one to make something much larger than themselves. Maybe that was why he enjoyed these moments so much, the strange nostalgia that seemed to just hang in the air. Or maybe he was just drunk. After all, North had insisted they all do shots before the show and along with what had to be at least five tall boys and having only ate some stale cereal today, he was definitely feeling the drinks. Yeah he was probably just drunk.
The last lyrics spilled from his lips followed by a harsh drum hit from josh and a final riff from Simon effectively ending their set. “Again we’re Walls of Jericho we’re here every Friday come see us again or don’t. Thanks.”
The crowd erupted, over powering the the small club for just a moment before pre recorded music started over the sound system and they quickly cleaned up their stuff before the next band began breathing down their necks, for their turn on on the stage. After finally loading their equipment in Markus run down 1972 Buick Estate Wagon (which had be the ugliest car known to man) they heading back into the Clone.
“So you guys ready for some more shots?” North asked wearing a devilish smile.
Josh groaned. “Why do you always insist on getting us to blackout?”
“Because it’s my speciality,” she quipped back with a wink. “Besides I’ll pay, yesterday was a good night for tips.”
Markus couldn’t help but roll his eyes at Simon as he just shrugged back in response. Both giving in to North as they always do. North had that effect in all of them, for some reason none of them could say no to her. Beside none of them would turn down free alcohol of course.
As they entered the club once again, Markus felt a deep sense of belonging, one he’d never truly felt before. Of course, Carl had accepted him into his home with open arms once he was placed there by the great state of Michigan. But even after the years of living there and even after the official adoption and name change, he still couldn’t help but sometimes feeling like a visitor in the mansion.
It hadn’t been easy for him, especially when Leo came in to the picture and Markus had become the root of his anger. Not that he could blame him, Carl had basically abandoned him and when he finally accepted him he found he had already adopted another son. Markus knew that had to sting. Being rejected by your father only to find he’d accepted a stranger as his son. Nonetheless, for months Leo had made his life living hell.
But here at the Clone and at Jericho he’d carved a little place for himself amongst like minded people. Many of which with similar backgrounds, foster kids and runaways and freedom seekers, all meeting on the rundown floor of their favorite bar. God he really was drunk, he never gets this sentimental sober that’s for sure.
Finally they made it to what had become their table. Nestled perfectly to the right of the bar still far enough from the stage they could talk without screaming while still enjoying the music. Before they could even sit down North was waving the newest bartender, Connor, to order the shots she was determined to make them take.
To be honest, Connor always seemed a little out of place in the bar. Unlike the rest of them, he was always dressed almost professionally with his brown hair neatly cut and styled, except for one strand that always seemed to fall on his forehead. Since Markus himself was a bartender at the Clone, he’d gotten to know him pretty well already. He was staying in the apartment over the bar while he attended classes at Detroit University for criminal justice, he always said he was going to be a detective someday. Markus always wondered what it must be like to have a true direction in life.
“Hey guys! Awesome set!” He greeted excitedly as usual. “Just beer again?”
Josh opened his mouth to answer, but of course North beat him to it. “No Connor, we would like four shots of southern comfort.” She said proudly.
“No, last time you made us drink that I threw up all night.” Simon whined at her. “I’m still traumatized.”
“Too bad.” She replied, Connor looked at the four of them unsure. North smiled up at him. “Thanks Connor.”
“Four?”
“Four.” Simon answered with a frown. North beamed, obviously pleased she’d gotten her way again. Simon rubbed a hand through his hair still damp from what was probably a mix of sweat and beer from their earlier set. Markus couldn’t help but stare at him. He was wearing a mesh black tank top that just barely hung off him. Coming down to end in a rude cut where the top of the army jumpsuit he’d been wearing at the beginning of the show was now securely tied around his waist, worn green fabric fell straight down his slender legs.
Markus liked how utterly Simon the whole look was, it was rough, like all their clothes, but open and inviting something about it seemed almost calming. He tried to ignore how much he’d like to feel the undoubtedly smooth skin under the mesh. He tried to push the thought from his mind. Unsuccessfully.
North’s outfit on the other hand was the complete opposite. It was mostly a dress made of what may have once been a white t shirt, now covered in rips and safety pins and what looked like may have been blood. Under she wore some torn fishnets and some chunky boots. Just like Simon, the outfit was all North. Him and Josh just looked boring in comparison, jeans and band tees were always their go to and tonight was no different.
“Okay, here you are four shots of southern comfort and four PBRs from Hank. On the house.”
“Thanks Connor.” North dismissed. “So boys what are we drinking to?” North asked her usual pre shot question and Markus looked into the Caramel liquid in front of him, already anticipating the burn.
“To friends?” Josh finally offered up.
“Ew that sucks,” North glared back at the three men.
“To North’s natural talent.” Markus suggested holding the small glass in the air. A smug smile appeared on Simon’s faces that nearly broke him.
“To North’s special talent.” He repeated as North exaggerated a bow. All four hit the table with the glasses and swallowed the harsh liquid back as quick as they could.
Markus could feel the burn all down his throat as he tried to shake it off in vain. His throat was still ripped to shreds from the set, he was never good at protecting his vocal cords during performances. Don’t get him wrong, he know how to but in the excitement of performance he never seemed to be able to be bothered. He imagined what the vocal coach he’d gone to in middle school would say to him. Probably something along the lines of, if you don’t start taken this seriously you’ll lose your voice by the time your thirty.
He always hated that vocal coach, after each lesson he and Carl would play chess and Markus would bitch about how stuck up he was, and Carl would always say if he didn’t want to do it he could always cancel his lessons and Markus would always say no. Then it’d all start over the next week
He was snapped back from his memory by Simon chasing his shot with a PBR in the cutest way. What was he thinking? Yes he’d been attracted to men before. And yes he’d admired Simon when he was sober before but he’d never thought like this. And he’d never acted on any of his attractions. It was something about tonight. It was then that Markus knew North would be successful.
He would definitely be blacking out.
***
“Markus come on. Help me a little.” Simon pleaded as he tried to pull the man up the stairs to their floor. Simon once again cursed the fact that their rooms were on the fourth floor and that the shitty apartments had never had an elevator installed. He nearly drugged Markus the last to steps to the landing of their floor where he let him collapse on the floor. He couldn’t help but laugh at the sight. “How did you get this drunk?”
“Cereal.” Markus responded laughing on the old hardwood floors.
“What?”
Markus tried to sit up in vain. Instead the action became a weird snaking across the ground. “That’s all... all I’ve eat-eaten today.”
Simon couldn’t help erupting in laughter, not only at the pathetic sight, but at the absurdity of the answer. “Okay, well let’s get you to bed you idiot.”
“You’re too nice Simon.” Markus said as he pulled him to his feet. Wrapping his arm around his waist to steady him, it still wasn’t much help. He could barely hold himself up at all and they were crashing into the walls of the hallway on their way to his room.
“Oh my god, Markus, I need your help. I may be taller but you have at least 25 pounds on me.” Simon begged as they finally neared his room. “Maybe I should get Josh to help.” He said more to himself.
“No! I want you.” Markus said stopping to look him in the eyes. His eyes were always so intense, maybe it was just the mismatched color, but they always seemed to burn with such passion. Simon had never seen anything quite like them. He tried not to think about what the man had just said to him.
But he certainly couldn’t say no to that gaze. “Okay, Okay.”
He fiddled with Markus’ keys, these damn doors would be the death of him. The locks had to be from the 30s and were in some desperate need of some WD40. Finally the unfamiliar door opened revealing Markus small studio apartment.
The small room was littered with half finished canvases, one particular one full of lovely fall colors still stood on the worn pine easel. On the left wall was a small sofa placed before an old black and white tv. On the right most wall was a mural of black, whites and grays that seemed to form faces in a mass of uncertainty, under it was a mattress covered only by a thin navy sheet. A single pillow and heavy comforter laid on the full sized ‘bed.’
“Lay down. I’ll get you some water and aspirin.” Simon said as he deposited the man on his bed.
He grabbed a glass from the cupboard that was horribly smudged. Was he really the only person who cleaned in this building? Simon rolled his eyes as he washed out the dirty glass and filled it with cold water. After rummaging through empty cabinets, he found a small bottle of aspirin and grabbed three pills from it. Of course he knew it suggested only two but he assumed Markus was far beyond the normal case of aspirin users. “Hey Markus you okay?” He yelled over the filling water.
“Uhhh.”
He couldn’t help but smile at the pained response. He’d suffered quite a few similar nights in the first few months he’d known North. Markus was still figuring out what to do amongst his new friends. After all, he’d only moved in to Jericho about 2 months ago, he still had a lot of learning to do.
Now with the medicine and water in hand he moved back to the main room of the apartment. A gasp was pulled from his lungs at the sight that greeted him. Markus lay on the mattress in only a pair of thin black boxers, his hands pulled up under his pillow with his face buried in it. Simon tried not to be a creep but damn. The way he was laying just made the muscles on his back even more prominent. The light freckles seemed to just motion to the perfect ass of his.
He cleared his throat, trying in vain to compose himself. “Markus. I have the aspirin and water.” No response. “Markus!”
Finally, he turned to look up at him which was somehow even worse. God those fucking eyes and why was he so built? It’s not like they had a gym. “Simon.”
Why did he have to say his name like that? It wasn’t a question or any sense of surprise. He said it as if waking up and seeing Simon was exactly what was expected.Simon want to run and hide, he could feel the burn of his blush raising in his face. “Take these and drink the whole glass.”
Markus did as he said, in what Simon was sure was the most unsettling and attractive way possible. Instead of drinking water like a normal person, Markus kept complete eye contact. It seemed like he was giving him sex eyes. Was Markus giving him fuck me eyes?! Finally, he finished the water. “You looked so cute in that jumpsuit tonight.” Markus said with way more confidence then he should have.
Simon opened and closed his mouth like a fucking fish out of water. “You really are drunk,” he eventually spit out. It was the only thing he could think of.
Markus grabbed his wrist with much more force was comfortable. “No! Simon, I’m serious. You’re so freaking… so freaking cute.” The earlier confidence fading back into a drunken slur.
Simon knew he had to get him to go to sleep. “Okay. Now go to sleep. I’ll bring you coffee tomorrow.”
Once again he was buried in his pillow, the thick comforter pulled half over him. “Good night, Si.” His muffled voice seemed to pull at him.
“Night Markus.” He pulled the door shut, hoping that barrier could keep out his feeling as well. He wouldn’t do this again, he thought as he leaned against the door facing the hallway. He wouldn’t fall for another straight boy looking to check something off their bucket list. He would not be used like that again. No he would keep his distance, after all, it was the only choice he had.