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Chapter Text

   Colin hesitantly entered the small shop. The sign outside professed that antiques were found within but the air of the place promised him something much more. It was half dark and he couldn’t really see where what little light there was came from. And there were certainly antiques, all kinds of furniture and crockery, but there were also strange things like taxidermy and bones, and every shelf and cabinet was chock full of jewellery, strange artifacts and knick-knacks. He took a deep breath. 
   “Can I help you, my friend?”
   Colin spun around. He hadn’t seen anybody in the small space when he entered and he couldn’t tell where this tall, black clad man with a deep voice had come from. “Ahm, I’m looking for, ahm…” he whipped his hair back. “Like satanic stuff.”
   The man smiled. “Are you a musician?”
   Colin exhaled sharply and felt his chest surge. “Yeah, I play bass in a band. A metal band.”
   “I figured as much,” the dark man said. “You have that air about you.”
   Colin flipped his hair back again and puffed out his chest. “It’s called Bad News, I’m sure you know it.”
   The dark man raised his hand. “Ah, now there you have got me. I don’t follow much of this kind of thing. I am preoccupied with my craft. Unfortunately it takes all my mental and physical resources to dance with the dark forces, my friend.”
   Colin shrank a little. He wasn’t quite ready to turn tail and run but it was close. “Don’t you ever even go anywhere?”
   “Oh, sure. I go lots of places. But I tend to forget what the are called or where they are placed in this world.” He waved his hand in the air. “Things shift, you know.”
   “Do they?” Colin looked around. The things in the small shop looked like they hadn’t moved for centuries. 
   The dark man chuckled. “You have to know what you’re doing.”
   Colin nodded sagely. 
   “But I’m sure I could find you something. What’s your name?”
   “Colin, Colin Grigson.”
   The dark man held out his hand. “I’m Altair, pleasure to meet you, Colin.”
   Hesitantly Colin shook Altairs hand. He wasn’t sure that he hadn’t already entered into some sort of pact with the Devil.
   “There is no need to worry, my friend,” Altair said when he noticed Colins discomfort. “You are safe here. As strange as it might seem where all this is gathered.” He gestured around himself. “You might think that the dark forces would be drawn to this place but they are not because we are already saturated, you see. Those spirits who wish to do harm will go where the air is pure to corrupt the innocent.” The turned to Colin and looked deep into his eyes. “We who know the darkness have nothing to fear.”
   Colin nodded, the unease in his stomach slowly giving way to something else. He wasn’t sure what it was but it definitely felt good. “That’s… very metal.”
   Altair grinned. “Very.” He went behind a small table standing by the wall, loaded with small wooden boxes with beads, bones, feathers and various piles of pendants and lockets. It seemed to serve as a counter. “So what can I help you with, Colin?”
   “Well, it’s like I said. I’m looking for something, you know, metal.”
   Altair raised an eyebrow. “It’s not as simple as that, my friend. You could argue that every single thing in here and the entire realm of spirits and dark forces is ‘very metal’ but I would hardly sell you all of it.” 
   “I guess not,” Colin said, the air seeping out of him slowly.
   Altair smiled. “Come,” he said and gestured Colin to approach him. 
   “Where?”
   “Come. You will see.”
   Colin followed Altair to the back of the small store and through a door hidden behind a black curtain. Behind it he suddenly found himself in what seemed like a fairly normal if somewhat small and old dining room. 
   “Have a seat,” Altair said.
   Colin looked around. It seemed like he’d stepped into a different world. From the outside the shop had looked like a mysterious dark place and on the inside like the ecclectic collection of a madman, but this was just a regular room. It was almost like being at his nans.
   “Would you like something to drink, Colin?”
   “What?”
   “Drink,” Altair said. “Water, soda, rum?” He opened a cupboard and got two glasses.
   “Ah, water is fine,” Colin replied and sat down. “I have to drive back,” he added. He cursed himself internally for being a freaking girls blouse caring about shit like that.
   Altair smiled. “I’m not judging,” he said and poured water from a bottle in the fridge in one of the glasses and placed it on the table in front of Colin before sitting down opposite him with a tumbler half full of golden liquid. “But if you’ll excuse me I’ll indulge in something a little stronger.” He took a good sip and then locked his fingers around the glass. “What is it that you’re looking for, my friend?”
   “What do you mean?”
   “Why did you come here?”
   Colin travelled back in his mind to Vim screaming at everyone and then shouting at him for being a cunt when he got upset. He shrugged.
   “May I guess?”
   “Sure,” Colin replied staring into his glass.
   “Your colleagues don’t respect you,” Altair said.
   Colin looked up. 
   “And some times you feel like they might be right when they talk shit.”
   Colin didn’t reply. Looking into these dark eyes he felt like his very soul was exposed. “How do you know that?”
   Altair smiled. “What people don’t realise is that occultism and witchcraft isn’t all about making pacts with the devil and speaking to the dead. The biggest part of it is actually tuning yourself to the forces that work in the worlds we exist in and you learn to read them.”
   “So can you affect other people?”
   “I can.”
   “Can you teach me to do that?”
   Altairs smile faded and he shook his head. “No, I cannot.”
   Colin grimaced. “Why not? What is the point of all this shit if you can’t help me?”
   “Oh, I can help you, my friend. Do not worry about that. If you are willing to follow my advice I can certainly help you. But you don’t learn what I know without years of education. Think of it like becoming fully fluent in a new language. Unless you learn it from childhood it takes very long and it’s hard work.”
   Colin felt pearls of sweat form on his brow as images of torturous French lessons swooped into his mind. “So how many do you speak then?” he tried in an attempt to divert the subject without making it too obvious.
   “If you mean in the traditional sense, three. I was born in Cuba so my first language is Spanish and when I was very young I moved with my family to the United States so I learned English as well since I was a child. Later I spent some years in Japan so I also speak Japanese. Not fluently, but enough to learn what I wanted to learn there.”
   Colin contemplated this. “So what the hell are you doing here, man?”
   Altair smiled. “It’s the cosmos, my friend. The forces that require my services wanted me here so I obeyed. I spent a lot of time working directly for my God but as the years went by I saw better and better how I could benefit from knowing the forbidden. There were doors that opened to me I had never even imagined and one of them led me here.”
   “What do you mean, worked for your God? Is this a cult?”
   Altair laughed. “Not in that sense, no. Though if you asked my former colleagues of the Catholic faith they would certainly condemn my practices. I myself would argue that I am still a priest of sorts and very much a Catholic, only with a different emphasis than my friends who take the word of the good God simply as it comes to them.”
   Colin shifted in his seat. This was not the course he’d thought this would take.
   “Nobody seeks the dark arts without first being a disciple of some socially accepted deity or other. You have to know the rules before you can break them. Otherwise, for example, what would be the point of the loud and flamboyant displays of disruption and chaos you and your companions call heavy metal if there weren’t sweet and good mothers boys somewhere in the past looking for something more than what the rules offered?” Altair sipped his golden liquid but kept his eyes on Colin over the glass.
   Colin shrugged and shook his head. “I wouldn’t know.”
   Altair put the glass down. “I think you do, my friend. I think Colin Grigson is a man of feverous soul but weak heart. He needs something to spark his courage.”
   “I have no idea what you are talking about.”
   In one swift gulp Altair finished the contents of the glass and slammed it on the table. Then he got up. “Come, Colin Grigson, I know exactly what you need.”
   Colin followed Altair back into the small shop and watched him rummage through a pile that looked like somebody had scattered the contents of several grandmothers jewellery boxes around haphazardly. 
   “Ah, found you,” Altair finally said and brought something back in his hand. 
   Colin could only see a fine chain hanging out of Altairs fist as he approached him.
   Altair stopped in front of Colin and grasped his arm with the hand not holding whatever it was he’d found. “Now Colin, my friend, do you promise to take good care of what I give you and respect the words I have to say to you?”
   For the first time Colin felt like he’d found what he’d come there for. There was a flame in those dark eyes, a fire of black plasma, and he could very well believe that this strange, dark man had no qualms about taking back what was his in whatever way was necessary. “Yes, sir,” he replied, immediately feeling weird. He hadn’t called anybody ‘sir’ since school.
   Altair opened his fist. In his palm lay an ornate wolfs head with small red gems for eyes. “A wolf for the whelp,” he said with a smile. 
   Colin didn’t dare object.
   Altair put the necklace around Colins neck.
   When the wolfs head touched Colin he felt like he was stronger already. 
   Altair placed his hand on Colins chest, over the wolfs head. “Yes,” he said and nodded. “This is the one who calls for you.”
   “Calls for me?”
   “He calls for you, howls for you, Colin,” Altair said and dug his fingers into Colins chest. “He knows all your pains and he will cleanse you.” 
   Colin felt his heart beat faster and for some reason he though he smelled fire. 
   Altair let go of Colin and only a moment later he was back behind the small table attending to something else like Colin had never even been there. 
   For a couple of moments Colin stood still, his heart beating in his head. Then he turned. “So how much do I owe you?”
   Altair smiled. “If you mean money I need none of that. Just let me know how you get along.”
   “Are you sure?”
   “I am very sure. I understand that you are used to go around in this world and pay for things that you want but I assure you the payment that will be collected from you will not be monetary.”
   Colin swallowed. 
   Altair laughed. “Don’t worry. I have not sold your soul to the Devil. Just be Colin Grigson and you will have paid your debt in full.”

Chapter Text

   Colin approached the building with trepidation. He didn’t know why he had agreed to do this. After Donnington he had been quite ready to give it all up. He could just about hide his scar with his dress shirt at the bank but a button up dress shirt wasn’t very fitting for metal so he’d taken to wearing scarves to hide it. Every time he looked at it he was reminded of that fucking ordeal. And yet, and yet, somehow, Vim had managed to convince him to try again. Well, Vim had convinced Spider to talk him into coming back. Apparently the whole Donnington fiasco had made someone think it would be worth it. Someone with money, and Vim liked money. 
   When Colin saw Sally standing by the entrance talking to someone he felt a little better. She was attached to Vim like Velcro but very often managed to diffuse tense situations around them. Spider had told him that she’d started to act almost like an agent, dealing with talking to everyone, so maybe they’d actually walk away with something this time. It sure as shit sounded like better prospects than letting Vim handle it. 
   “Oh, hey Colin!” Sally said cheerfully when she saw him. “Just go inside, they’re waiting.”
   “Hey, Sally,” Colin replied. Hesitated for a moment trying to think of something else to say but couldn’t find anything so he just went inside. 

   “What the hell is that?” Vim said when Colin appeared in the room. 
   “What is what?”
   “That shit you got around your neck,” Vim sneered and prodded Colin in the chest where the wolfs head pendant peeked out from beneath the scarf. 
   “It’s just a necklace, Vim. Can I not just wear a necklace?”
   “Looks stupid.”
   “Well, have you looked in the fucking mirror, Vim?”
   “Look, guys, can we get through five minutes without fighting,” Den tried. 
   “Mind your own fucking business, Den,” Vim spat at him.
   Colin decided not to agitate Vim and tried to manoeuvre over across the room to Spider who stood in a corner sipping a beer. “Vim is extra pissy today,” he whispered. 
   Spider chuckled. “Yeah,” he whispered back. “He got pissed because Sally wouldn’t let him talk to the interviewer first.”
   “Ah…”
   Just then Sally and the interviewer entered. 
   “All right, boys,” the interviewer said. “Shall we do this?”
   Spider went over to the others but Colin stayed back. The moment he saw a chance Vim started ranting and talking bullshit. Den and Spider lapped it up, poking in a word here and there. Colin felt increasingly uneasy. He couldn’t put his finger on it what it was exactly but he almost felt like the wolfs head necklace was whispering something to him and the scar on his neck hurt. 
   “So, Colin, you don’t have anything to say?”
   “Huh?” Colin looked up and saw all of them staring at him. 
   “Are you okay, Colin?” Sally asked. 
   Colin tried to shrug nonchalantly. “Dunno, just not feeling very talkative today.” As he said it he realised he’d not felt talkative since Donnington. Through his head ran hundreds of memories of people telling him to shut the fuck up, both amicably and with animosity, but he never felt like talking any more. It’s as if not being able to for a month had completely turned off his will to speak. 
   “He’s being all mysterious and shit,” Spider said and laughed heartily. 
   Vim grimaced and Den followed suit. 
   “Well…” Colin said and shrugged again. Vim could have all his damn spirituality and communing with the dead, he would never have mysterious. Vim Fuego was about as mysterious as a door knob. No, Colin Grigson would have mysterious. And right then and there he decided that if there was ever going to be another interview he would one up Vim to the rafters and try to convince Altair to join him. It would be such sweet revenge for all the times he shoved him to the side and pushed him out of the way at gigs, interviews, hell just walking down the street Vim would try to take up all the space. Well, not any more. It was time for Colin Grigson to claim his place on this stage. 

Chapter Text

   The day after the interview Colins mood had sunk again. He felt like all the cool ideas he’d had the day before were stupid and that he’d never get to enjoy anything. He sat in his cubicle at the bank, trying his best to be courteous and helpful to people, while his spirit slowly crumbled inside him. A moment here and a moment there he felt a little bit appreciated, but this wasn’t what he wanted to be appreciated for. This wasn’t the Colin Grigson he wanted people to remember. 
   When Colins work day was up he nearly ran straight for Altairs shop before he realised that wouldn’t do. There was no fucking way Altair would ever get to see that boring twat, he only knew Colin Grigson as the bass player of heavy metal band Bad News, and that was what he would ever see if he could help it. 
   In his room Colin felt like he needed to apply extra make up, just to make up for the day he’d had. Vims grandiose speeches echoed in his head and he wished that he could just talk like that, just spew out rivers of words that sounded cool. Or maybe he would rather be like Altair who only spoke a few words but they always seemed to say so much more. Yes, that was better. It was more mysterious. As he stepped into the car he felt a little bit of belief coming back. Maybe it would work after all. 

   When Colin entered the small shop he nearly turned back again. There was an old woman speaking with Altair, in fact she was so small and bent that she seemed ancient. He hid himself away in a corner while they conducted their business. He watched him hand her a small parcel of something and she hid it in her hands before shoving it into her dark coat and then hurried on her small feet out again. For a good while he didn’t move.
   “I know you’re there, Colin,” Altair finally said without looking up. 
   Colin walked towards the small counter table. “Who was that?”
   “Simply one of my Catholic brethren who needed a little assistance.”
   “I thought you said the Catholic church condemned the occult?”
   Altair smiled. “It does, but tell me this, Colin. If you were a devout believer in the good God and suspected that someone was trying to do bad things to you with dark magic that should be forbidden by your faith, would you seek help with someone who was true in the faith like you and therefore not versed in the dark arts, or would you seek help with someone who knows the dark arts and how they work?”
   “I don’t know, do people not learn how to counter the dark arts?” Colin enquired. 
   “They know how to pray and trust in the good Lord.”
   “So if they come to you that means they don’t trust God to fix it?”
   Altair smiled. “That’s one way to look at it.” His face became grave again. “I hope that I don’t have to tell you that what you see in here is not to be recounted elsewhere.”
   “Absolutely, man. My lips are sealed.”
   Altairs smile returned. “Good.” He looked at Colin for a few moments. When Colin showed no indication of speaking he furrowed his brow. “Was there a particular reason you came back?”
   Colin had to stifle a whimper. He hadn’t thought about that, to have an excuse to be there. The only thing that had entered his mind was that he would feel better in that strange little shop and that’s all he’d thought about. “Oh, right,” he coughed and cleared his throat a little to buy himself some time to think up something plausible. “We’re gonna be making a new record and we were thinking you had something that would, you know, look good on the cover of a metal album.”
   Altair grinned. “I daresay I have a few of those things.”
   “And maybe, you know, props for a video or something.” Colin bit his lip. Maybe that was taking it too far. Surely Altair wouldn’t be prepared to just give him stuff and he had no money to buy anything expensive. Not that he had any idea how much any of the things in there actually cost. 
   Altair seemed to contemplate something for a moment. “Come.” He gestured Colin to follow. “I’ll show you something.”
   For the second time in a matter of days Colin found himself following Altair out of the small shop into the home beyond. This time, however, instead of stopping in the small kitchen, he led him through it, towards what seemed to be the back door on the other side but instead of exiting, he opened a door in the foyer that seemed to lead down into darkness. 
   “What’s that?” Colin asked, quite uncertain that he actually wanted to go down there. 
   “It’s my secret place, Colin,” Altair replied as he flicked a small light switch on the wall inside the door. The dim light managed to illuminate the steep steps but not much more. 
   “Secret?” 
   “Yes, and sacred.” 
   Colin swallowed. On one hand he did not want to venture into the dark room below but on the other he did not want to disrespect this gesture. “That’s cool,” he managed. 
   “Come,” Altair said and gestured Colin to follow. He walked down the stairs. 
   Colin took two tentative steps down and saw Altair grab a matchbox off a shelf at the bottom of the stairs and light five candles in a massive candelabra that stood on the floor by the cellar entrance. Looking at Altair standing there in the flickering candle light he suddenly knew there was nothing to fear. What was in the darkness that was scary? Ghosts and monsters. And who was he with? A professional demon slayer, that’s who. What would he possibly fear? Nothing, that’s what.
   Altair looked up to see Colin come stomping down the stairs. He smiled a little cause he felt he might be overdoing the bravado a little, but he seemed to do that as a habit. Now and then the brash would waver and he spoke like a well brought up boy who was a little too used to mommies hand leading so that he wasn’t quite ready to take full charge of the world, even now at what he’d guess was around thirty. But the choice of outlet did intrigue him. He didn’t know much about metal music, he didn’t really know much about music at all except the hymns he’d learned in his life. It never seemed like something that would be for him. Maybe it would change. He didn’t know but he was certainly tempted to find out. 
   “Wow…” Colin stopped dead as he stepped down onto the floor of the small room. It looked like somebody had taken an archaeological exhibit, a chapel, a taxidermy shop and a medieval monks study, shaken them together and dumped them into this small space. “This is just the coolest fucking thing I have ever fucking seen,” he whispered. Looking up his eyes met the gaze of the mother Mary on the opposite wall with arms outstretched, her bright blue garb in stark contrast with the eery darkness of the room. “Sorry,” he muttered. 
   Altair chuckled. “It’s quite all right. I have cursed a lot in here myself. She doesn’t mind. She knows you don’t mean it.”
   Colin looked at Altair.
   “She is a mother, after all.”
   Colin didn’t know what he should think. He wasn’t sure if Altair hadn’t just called him a child but in the light of his roguish grin he just felt warm. 
   “So, see anything you like?”
   Colin snapped back to life. “All of this is amazing. I have never seen so much cool shit in one place. Like we could make a whole album in here.”
   Altair wagged his index finger in front of Colins face. “No, that’s not possible. Nobody gets to come down here except me.”
   “Nobody except you?”
   “That’s right. This is my private sanctum. What I can do, however, is to contact some people I know who might be able to replicate something similar. If you want. Or you can use it as inspiration, but that’s it.”
   “Oh, all right,” Colin replied. Then something tonked into place in his head. “But wait, then what am I doing here?” 
Altair smiled. “To tell you the truth, Colin Grigson, I don’t rightly know. I have counselled many in my days but I don’t think I ever had the urge to impress anyone before.”
   Colin shrugged and flipped his hair back. “Me neither.”
   Altair chuckled. He was fairly certain that Colin had not grasped the meaning of his words. He was however as sure as he had ever been of anything that most of the things Colin Grigson did he did to try to impress someone but wasn’t having much luck. As far as he could tell he could hardly convince himself that what he did was worth doing but it did give him something. It was his faith and it intrigued him.

Chapter Text

   The studio space was uncomfortably small. Someone who knew someone had arranged it, they didn’t know but Sally said so. They trusted Sally. Mostly. What really only mattered was that Vim trusted Sally. If Sally would have told Vim that she thought it was cool to record music in a septic tank he would have done it. Fortunately for the other three Sally was not that mad. 
   Vim, however, was in peak dictator form. They’d been in the studio for almost an hour already but they hadn’t recorded a single note because Vim was still lecturing them on how he would write all the songs and everything would be done the way he wanted. Spider had fallen asleep sitting in the corner, though Vim didn’t notice cause he was wearing sunglasses, and Den just stood, mouth agape, trying to keep up with Vims torrent of commands, but Colin felt increasingly uneasy. He wanted to get to making music. And what was more, he had ideas. 
   “Okay, Vim,” Colin tried to cut into the barrage. “Shouldn’t we be making music then?”
   “You got something to say, Colin?” Vim snapped.
   “Yeah, I just did, didn't I, Vim.”
   “You think you’re clever or something?” 
   “Listen, I was just thinking this place is expensive. We can’t just stand around talking all day, we have do do something.”
   “What the fuck are you complaining about expensive, Mr lives in a mansion with his fucking mom!” 
   “Vim…” Colin had to summon all his strength to just hold himself together but he wasn’t sure how long he could keep it up. 
   “Why don’t you just shut the fuck up you ugly, stupid cunt!” Vim sneered as he grabbed Colins scarf and pulled it off, exposing the scar. “You fucking want another one?”
   Colin whimpered and when he heard Den sniggering he knew he’d lost. The tears started coming and the last thing he heard before slamming the studio door behind him was Sally trying to call him. He didn’t want to listen. 

   This time Colin ran straight for Altairs shop but stopped the car a bit of a way away so that he could calm himself down walking the last few metres. The moment he entered he felt like most of his distress melted away already. 
   Altair was standing by a shelf full of frames with various religious imagery when the door opened. “Colin, my friend,” he said cheerfully. “What brings you to Altairs lair today?”
   Standing there in front of Altair Colin felt self conscious again and his hand travelled up to the scar. Laying his hand on his neck he realised that the wolfs head pendant wasn’t there. “I’ve lost it,” he whispered. 
   “What?”
   Colin grasped the front of his t-shirt. “The necklace,” he whimpered. “I’ve lost it.” His lower lip trembled. “Stupid, ugly, fucking…” 
   “Hey,” Altair grabbed the wrist of Colins hand that was holding the t-shirt. “Stop that. You are a very beautiful man, Colin,” Altair said. “Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”
   Colin felt the warmth travel through his cheeks and down into his chest and then the guilt hit him again. “It’s probably in the studio!” He said. “I’ll just go find it!” 
   “It’s fine,” Altair said. “If it’s lost it’s lost. It’s not the end of the world. We can fix this.” He looked around, as if he was trying to remember where he’d put something. “Who put such a dumb idea into your head anyway?”
   “Well, Vim said…” Colin muttered and started biting his thumb fingernail.
   “Vim?” Altair nodded. “Yes, yes, I see it now. That’s his name. Of course he’s the one.” He turned around a couple of times more looking over the shelves and display cases.
   Colins eyes went wide. “Do you know him?”
   “Not him, as such,” Altair replied heading for a far corner. “More the concept of him,” he continued rummaging through a small wooden box. “I believe that he is what you might call a right cunt.”
   Colin laughed. “He is that.”
   Altair shoved his hand into a small box of trinkets and rummaged around. His fingers touched an object and his mind accorded that this was what he was looking for but when he turned his hand and opened his palm it was not the key he had set out to find. It was a dark coloured, drop cut amethyst and he could almost feel the weight of the chain that had once been attached to it. How long ago? Three years? Five? He couldn’t remember. 
   Altair closed his fist again. Maybe he’d just seen wrong. Something in the air was messing with his mind and when he opened his hand again the key would be there. He had thrown the gem away. Smashed the necklace into the wall as hard as he could and then out the window. The only time in his entire life he lost his temper. He opened his hand. No, he had not been seeing things. There it was so innocent looking and yet he could feel the threads attached to it begin to pull at him. What did it mean? Was it time to heal this wound?
   “You alright, man?” Colin asked as he felt the air in the room sink.
   “I don’t rightly know, Colin,” Altair replied. “I did not find what I thought I was looking for.”
   “What do you mean?”
   Altair turned to Colin. “Remember the doors I talked about?”
   “The ones that led you here?”
   “Yes,” Altair nodded. 
   “Did another one open?”
   “Yes, it did, Colin, but it was not the door I was trying to open.”
   Colin nodded. “I see.” For a couple of moments he said nothing, then he shook his head. “No, I don’t understand.” He nodded sagely and smiled. “I don’t understand,” he repeated, almost as if he needed to convince himself he’d actually said it. There was nobody there to heap scorn or scream at him for being stupid.
   Altair smiled. “Picture this,” he said. “You’re on a massive tour, fifty concerts, booze and girls everywhere, and you’re not quite sure which way is home any more.”
   Colin chuckled and flicked his hair back as if he knew exactly what Altair was talking about. 
   “Now you’re, say, about two thirds through and you come back to the hotel, exhausted and so ready to fall asleep. You look at your key and it says 59 so you find the door marked 59 and put the key in but nothing happens. You try twisting it, shaking it, kicking it, nothing.”
   Colin stared, hardly daring to breathe.
   “You check the key and the room again and it’s definitely key number 59 and door number 59 so you try once more and suddenly, as you turn the key another door opens, two doors down on the other side of the hallway. You hear it sort of sigh open and you turn and look at it. Nobody comes out and nobody is going in, it’s just standing there open and you know this is the door that the cosmos wants you to go through. You know what’s in there, it’s something you haven’t thought about for a long time and you’re not sure that you really want to go in there.” Altair looked at the gem in his hand. “But deep in your heart you know that you have to.” He looked back at Colin. “Because if you don’t you’ll hate yourself forever for not taking the opportunity the cosmos gave you to see that thing that’s in that room again.”
   “And what is the thing?” Colin whispered.
   Altair didn’t reply but shifted his gaze back to the gem in his hand. 
   Colin felt like he sensed something in the air. “Is it love?” he asked. “Cause that diamond thing looks like the kind of thing you’d give to a girl.”
   Altair half smiled. “A boy, actually,” he replied without looking up. “But yes, you’re right. It’s exactly the kind of thing a stupid, love crazed idiot would give to someone he thought would love him back.”
   It took a few moments for Altairs words to sink properly into Colins mind. When he’d fully processed he tried to search for words for himself to say but nothing happened. “Stop that, you’re not stupid,” was all he could think of. 
   Altair chuckled. “You can run too, Colin, it’s fine. I’ll just close the door again. I did it before and I’m sure I could do it again. At least you’ll be honest and do it to my face.”
   Colin stood transfixed. It seemed so utterly ridiculous and yet so perfectly obvious. 
   “I mean, I’ve faced down vengeance crazed velociraptors, demented warlocks, feverous pastors and blood thirsty demons. Surely I can handle a little heart break from time to time.”
   “I don’t know what to say.”
   “You don’t have to say anything, my friend. You can walk out of here and never come back. I’ll understand completely.”
   Colin was certain his mind had never moved this fast in his entire life. “But the door opened when you were trying to help me, didn’t it?”
   “It did.”
   “Then isn’t that a message for me?” Colin pointed at the gem in Altairs hand. 
   Altair looked down at the gem. 
   “I mean, you were looking for a thing for me. That is my thing.”
   Altair looked back up at Colin. “Do you want it?” He reached out his hand, the dark purple gem nestled in his palm like it held the answer to everything. 
   Colin walked over to Altair and grasped his hand, closed his fingers around the amethyst drop. “You hold on to it,” he said still holding his hand firmly. “I’ll just lose it. I mean, I lost the wolf. You gave that to me and I lost it. I wouldn’t want to lose this.” He looked down. Something shifted in his mind and he suddenly felt like he belonged in that strange room full of junk and nowhere else. Whatever it meant and wherever it would take him, this had changed him forever. He didn’t really understand it and what captivated him the most was that in this place it didn’t matter. Nobody would be angry at him or frustrated that he was slow. However long it took him to figure it out, Altair would wait. 
   “So I’ll just hold on to it then?”
   Colin looked up. “Yes, you keep it safe for me.” He looked down again. “Until I know what it means.”
   Altair smiled. “All right.”
   “I have to go home now,” Colin said as he let go of Altairs hand. “Not because I’m running away! Honest.”
   Altair laughed. “No, I understand.”
   “It’s just that…” Colin closed his mouth.
   “It’s what?” 
   “It’s almost dinner time, mom will be waiting,” Colin muttered. 
   “You live with your mom?”
   “And my dad,” Colin added as if that made all the difference.
   “Why does that not surprise me in the least?” Altair grinned. 
   “I don’t know.”
   “Me neither, Colin, me neither,” Altair said and patted Colin on the cheek. “Go and have your dinner. I should probably eat something myself. I tend to forget.”
   Colin stepped back. “And I’m not running away, okay?”
   “I absolutely understand,” Altair replied. “Just remember what I said. Be true to Colin Grigson and everything will be all right.”
   “Right.” Colin nodded and turned. He hesitated a moment before leaving. He couldn’t explain what he wanted to say anyway so he might as well go home and think about it. 
   Altair watched Colin close the door carefully behind him. After a few moments he walked to the door and locked it, before flicking the switch on the sign that said ‘open’ in the small front window. Then he looked at the gem in his hand and sighed. He had to resist the urge to open the door again and just throw it out into the street. Forget about all of it again. But this time it would be wrong, this time it was important. This time… He clenched his fist around the purple stone. No, he would not think about it. He would wait and see.

Chapter Text

   The next week went by in a haze. Vim ordered everyone around like there was no tomorrow but Colin didn’t mind. His head was completely stuck in that place full of wondrous things, the most wondrous of which being its proprietor. The vision of the purple gemstone floated before his eyes almost constantly and at one point he found himself sweating he was thinking so hard what it could all mean. Through the haze of it all he only caught one phrase: press interview.

   Colin hesitated outside the door. What if Altair saying he could run away meant that he didn’t want him to come back? He started sweating again and then he thought about what he was going to ask. Damn it all to hell if he didn’t he would just have to throw him out. The moment he barged in he realised that maybe he was being a little bit forceful. 
   Altair looked up from a book he was reading. “Are you trying to take the whole house down, Colin?” he asked with a wry grin. 
   “Sorry,” Colin gushed. “I just, I was just, doesn’t matter.” 
   Altair furrowed his brow. 
   “I wanted to ask you something.”
   “Well, ask away then.”
   “We’re doing another interview later and I wanted to ask if you would come with me.”
   “Whatever for?”
   Again Colin found himself with an idea but no justification. “Just, cause I want you to come with me.”
   “I don’t think I’d be much use.”
   “You kidding? Sally would love you for a start.”
   “Who’s Sally?”
   “She’s our agent. Well, she’s a music reporter and Vims girlfriend. Actually, nobody has said she’s Vims girlfriend but it’s pretty obvious.”
   Altair chuckled. “Is that so.”
   “So will you?”
   “What am I supposed to do?”
   “Nothing! You don’t have to do anything! You don’t have to say anything. Just, dunno, be you.”
   “I don’t know…” Altair put the book down but didn’t move. 
   “You can tell people about your shop! Maybe you’ll get more customers. Think of it as publicity!”
   “I’m not sure it’s the kind of publicity I want or need.”
   Colin walked up to Altair and kneeled in front of him, hands clasped together. “Please? For me?”
   Altair smiled. “Well, when you put it that way…”
   Colin sprung up. “Yes!” 
   “I’ll just clean myself up a little, if you don’t mind.”
   “Oh, sure of course!” Colin watched Altair disappear into the apartment and had to keep himself from screaming. He’d started thinking about the interview and realised that Vim was gonna be pissed. It would be glorious. 
   “Do I have to bring anything?” Altair asked as he came back out into the shop.
   “No, forget that,” Colin replied. “Vim is gonna do all the talking and doing and whatnot anyway, he always does.” He grinned. “We’ll just sit and be pretty.” 
   Altair laughed. “Now that we can do.”

   Several pairs of eyes followed Colin and Altair across the room over to where the rest of the band sat with the reporter. Colin felt like he’d grown three feet. He could tell that Vim was upset at him bringing Altair. Spider didn’t care as long as he got fags and boose and Den was just an idiot, but Vim hated it when anything stole his thunder. Specifically when it was the lowly bass player of Bad News, Colin Grigson, who right now was in the centre of everybodys attention as he entered the scene. 
   Colin felt like a king in his best leather jacket and Marillion t-shirt and he was so impressed with Altair who had dressed the part, in black from head to toe, black nail polish, black eye liner, black everything, only the thin grey streaks in his black hair and his the sparkle in his dark brown eyes betraying the fact that this was in fact a mortal creature and not some infernal demon that Colin had summoned out of the depths of Hell with his awesome metal powers.
   Just to spite Vim Colin plonked himself down in the sofa opposite where the rest of them were, as if he expected them all to come to him. Altair sat down next to him and dusted off the sleeves of his black, half buttoned shirt, as if he needed to rid himself of some commoner dust, before leaning back in the sofa, fingers steepled under his chin. Colin felt like he might explode with glee.
   For most of the interview Colin was satisfied with just basking in the attention that he got as the interviewers shot him a question or two. That had never happened. Usually Vim did all the talking. Maybe Den and Spider would chip in occasionally but they were mostly ignored. He himself never managed to think of anything clever to say so he kept quiet most of the time, unless they were doing a promotion of some sorts, or a documentary, where they would all just try to be as metal as possible. Otherwise it would mostly not matter what he said, Vim would be pissed off, and this occasion was no different. He could see how Vim tried to turn away from him every time the interviewers asked about something to make sure they wouldn’t look ‘the wrong way.’ 
   One of the interviewers looked at his watch. “Well, I’m afraid that’s all we have time for now,” he said as he stood up. “But we have certainly got enough material and if we need clarification on anything we’ll be in touch.” He glanced towards Sally who nodded discretely. 
   The other interviewer rose as well and Colin though he would faint when he stood up and out of the corner of his eye saw Altair rise up with him as if they were one. “Thank you for your time,” Colin said and reached out his hand to the interviewer. 
   The interviewer smiled and grasped Colins hand. “No, thank you,” he replied. 
   Colin only realised after he let go of the interviewers hand that he’d probably fallen into some bankers reflex or other but it seemed to have worked wonders. Vim was practically purple and starting to foam at the mouth. 
   “Just one last question,” the first interviewer said. “To your friend there, Colin.”
   Colin laid his hand on Altairs shoulder. “My friend here may need to exercise his right to remain silent, but fire away.”
  Everybody laughed except Vim. 
  “What would you say is your role in this band?”
   “My only purpose is to protect my protégé from evil influences,” Altair replied and nobody in the room was in any doubt as to who he was referring to. 
   Vim also saw it quite clearly and it was the last straw for him. “I’ll fucking kill you!” he screamed as he lunged towards Altair but was immediately stopped by practically everyone except Colin who scuttled whimpering behind the sofa. 
   Altair didn’t budge. He took a deep breath and sighed heavily. Then he nodded his head ever so slightly to the side as if to say, ‘see?’ and then he walked away, Colin running after him with a head full of pleas. 

Chapter Text

   Colin drove Altair back to the shop in his moms car. Because he had to park a little way away he demanded he’d get to walk Altair home. Altair didn’t protest. They walked quietly side by side. 
   When they entered the shop Colin actually saw Altair shifting from the brash confident character he’d been while they were out in the open into the quiet and soft spoken person he remembered the first time he’d met him. 
   Altair sighed. 
   “Are you okay?”
   “Yeah, fine.”
   “I’m sorry about what happened. I didn’t know Vim was gonna get that angry.”
   “It’s no problem. I’ve been screamed at before. Nothing new to me.”
   “I just don’t want you to think that I meant to subject you to that.”
   Altair smiled. “I would never think that.”
   “Are you sure?”
   “Absolutely certain.”
   “Why?”
   “You want an honest answer?”
   “Of course!”
   “You’re not that smart.”
   Colin stared. “What do you mean ‘not that smart’?”
   “I mean just that. Either you couldn't think that anything like that could happen or you couldn't hatch that kind of a plan.”
   Colin wasn’t quite sure that he understood what Altair meant but maybe that just proved him right. He decided not to think about it and change the subject. “Where did you put the jewel?”
   Altair chuckled. “Up there.” He pointed at a small shelf that was almost up against the ceiling. “I nearly threw it away.”
   “Why? I asked you to keep it for me.”
   Altair looked away. “I know, but I hate having it there staring at me.”
   “What do you mean?”
   Altair sighed again. “I don’t know if you remember what I said when I found it but I was going to give it to someone. Someone I thought cared about me. Turns out he said the same shit to anybody who was willing to believe him.” He turned away from Colin. “I was so fucking angry you wouldn’t believe it and I though I had thrown it away. Out the window in the back.” He turned back. “And then it was just still here the whole time.”
   “That’s not cool to do that to you.”
   Altair chuckled. “No, that’s not cool.” He shrugged. “But that’s the way life goes I suppose. I feel a lot better about it when I think about it now actually. It means something different now. Something good.”
   When Altair looked at him with that roguish half grin Colin felt a strange sensation. It was like his brain was desperately trying to tell him he should be thinking something but he just wasn’t getting it. Like someone standing behind him trying to give him directions and constantly shouting “No! Not that way! The other way, you moron!” whichever way he went. 
   Altair turned away again. “Whatever will come of it, I don’t know but it feels right.”
   Suddenly Colins mind zoomed back, far back, to memories of trying to date girls. At school, around the band, even at the bank. The handful that had actually given him any mind had most of the time been somewhat amicable in their dismissal of him and one had even hinted, he realised now, but it had never ever occurred to him that there was an option for him to do anything else than to date girls. Now he was standing there, looking at this man, this mysterious and kind being, thinking about the small purple amethyst and suddenly it all made  sense. For once in his life something made perfect fucking sense.
   “I think I’ll close up,” Altair said. “Not much happening today,” he added as he walked to the door and locked it. 
   “Can I have a glass of water?” Colin asked.
   “Certainly,” Altair replied as he headed back. 
   Colin followed closely and as he watched Altair run the water a little bit and then put the glass under the tap he took a careful step forward and laid his hand on his back. 
   Altair dropped the glass. It clattered into the sink and water scattered everywhere. 
   Colin pulled his hand back. “Sorry.”
   Altair turned. “Why did you do that?”
   “I just wanted to touch you. You’re always so nice to me and I started thinking that maybe you’re not real.”
   Altair smiled a little. “Are you sure that’s it?”
   Colin looked at the ground. “It is. A part of it.” He looked up again. “Another part is that I realised why being close to you made me feel so good.”
   “Why?”
   “Because you make me feel sexy.”
   Altair chuckled.
   “I’m not joking. It’s like there is this aura of self confidence and attitude around you that nourishes me and I feel so good for a long time after. And when I realised what it was that I wanted  tell you I was just consumed with a need to touch you.”
   “Now that you’ve done it, was it what you expected?” Altair asked with a grin.
   Colin grinned back. “Oh, I haven’t even started yet.” The amount of confidence that he felt surge into his chest almost made him swoon. He reached out and laid his hand on Altairs face, ran his thumb over his lips and then hooked his fingers behind his neck and pulled him closer. “I’m going to touch every single part of you.”
   Altair grinned. “Then I think we need to do something first.”
   “What?”
   Without warning Altair dug his fingers into Colins wig and pulled it off. 
   Colin whimpered and tried to grab it as Altair threw it away. “What did you do that for?”
   Altair ruffled Colins blond hair. “Much better. The make up I can handle, that’s just decoration for your pretty face, but the wig’s no good. That shit is hiding.”
   Colin felt like he wanted to sink into the floor and disappear. 
   Altair put his hand under Colins chin and raised it up. “What? All the self confidence gone?”
   The moment Colin looked into Altairs brown eyes and saw the mischievous shimmer he felt a little better. “No, just…” His words disappeared into an inaudible mumble.
   “You thought I didn’t know?” 
   “Maybe,” Colin muttered. 
   “Well, now we’re even,” Altair said and grinned.  
   “What do you mean?”
   “We’ve laid ourselves bare. Shared our vulnerabilities. Maybe even admitted to ourselves that perhaps we want to be brave enough to take a chance on something scary.” Altair raised his hand up between them. “Look, I’m shaking.”
   Colin looked at Altairs hand and it was true. He thought back to the first time Bad News played a gig. He was so nervous that he dropped the pick so many times that he’d hardly played at all. Vim had not been happy. But that night he’d also gotten a kiss from a girl who whispered into his ear that she loved bass players the most of all before disappearing back into the crowd. Everything had seemed right with the world that moment. “Well, I know the perfect cure for that,” he said. 
   When Colin pulled Altair closer Altair closed his eyes. He couldn’t remember when he’d been this close to anyone, if ever. He didn’t even know that he had any capacity to reciprocate whatever it was that was about to happen. In his mind echoed condemnations from long ago but as their lips touched his mind was swept clean. He felt the warmth travel through his body, the gentle grasp of fingers, and at that moment everything felt right with the world.

Chapter Text

   Colin awoke in a strange ruse. It took him a moment to realise that he was not in his own bed and for a little while his brain refused to tell him where he was. Then he heard a strange sound. He sat up and saw that it wasn’t strange at all, it was Altair showering in the bathroom. He felt a little light headed. Was any of it real? Would he wake up to the actual reality of his pathetic life any moment now? 
   Altair came out of the bathroom. He was finishing drying himself. “So you’re awake?” he asked. 
   “So it would seem,” Colin replied. “Though I’m not sure that I’m not dreaming still.”
   Altair chuckled as he started picking clothes out of his closet. 
   “So is this a relationship now?”
   Altair turned. “What do you mean? Every connection is a relationship of some sort.”
   Colin rolled his eyes. “You know what I mean.”
   Altair turned back to the closet. “Do I?”
   “Yes, you do.”
   Having picked the clothes he was going to wear Altair threw them on the bed and started putting them on. “All right, supposing that I do then what?”
   “Then you answer the damn question, maybe?”
   “Do you know the answer?”
   Colin opened his mouth and closed it again. Did he know that it was so? Was it his to decide what did and did not constitute a relationship? He’d certainly brought it up after this event that had just taken place, whatever he should call it, so surely it triggered some idea in his head that it was something that concluded a debate for relationship status. “Yes.”
   “Then what are you asking me for?”
   “Because it isn’t just me in it! I can’t just decide for the both of us.”
   “I suppose not,” Altair replied.
   “I mean, I wouldn’t know, I’ve never been in one before.”
   Altair shrugged. “No use asking me then, I haven’t either.” He stopped dressing for a moment. “I mean, a big part of giving up the whole priest thing was that it pulled at me so strongly, this craving for something, close companionship or whatever, and it seemed to be such a big part of me.” He chuckled. “But nothing much happened really except that I felt hopeless and lonely on my birthday.”
   “What do you mean by that?”
   Altair resumed his dressing. “I was born on the fourteenth of February.”
   Colins eyes went wide. “Me too,” he whispered. 
   Altair laughed. “You’re joking, right?”
   Colin shook his head. “Makes me feel like a right chump.”
   “Well, what do you know,” Altaire said as he put on a black jacket over his black unbuttoned shirt. “I think we’re going to have to make a day of it now.”
   Colin smiled. “I think we are.”
   “I’m gonna go and make some breakfast. You want any?”
   “Oh sure, I’m starving.”
   “Good, I’ll just be in the kitchen then. You come when you’re ready.”
   “Right.”

   Later, after showering and dressing, sitting at the breakfast table Colin stopped shovelling scrambled egg and bacon into his mouth and set his fork down. “So you really believe in God?” Colin wasn’t sure he was even prepared to accept such an idea.
   “I do,” Altair replied.
   “Doesn’t all this go against his will,” Colin said and gestured between them with the fork. 
   Altair raised his hand. “Ah, now, that is not true. The will of God and the will of the people who believe in God is not the same thing. I have gone against the will of many people but I trust in this path that God has chosen for me.”
   Colin stared. “But how do you know that it isn’t Satan tempting you?”
   “Because I know.”
   “You know?”
   “Yes.”
   “That sounds a little weak.”
   Altair smiled. “Have you never known with all your being in your heart of hearts that what you do is the right thing to do?”
   Colin blushed. “Yes,” he replied.
   “That’s God,” Altair said. “God will let you know what is true and right. It’s when you start doubting and questioning, that’s Satan tempting you.”
   “You still loved that asshole you wanted to give the gemstone to. That sounds like a shitty thing of God to do that to you.”
   “I did fall for him, yes. But he made me doubt myself, he made me doubt everything.”
   “So is he Satan?”
   Altair chuckled. “I wouldn’t go as far as that, but certainly one of his creatures, yes.”
   Colin didn’t say anything but the question hung in the air. 
   Altaire grinned as the logical conclusion of his words presented itself to him. “Not you,” he said, reached over the small table and patted Colin on the cheek. “You are the path of God, Colin Grigson. You are the path of God.”
   Colin watched Altair get up and put his plate in the sink. Did he really mean that? It sounded a bit weird but when it came down to it all it meant was that he was certain in his heart that this was a good thing that they were doing, the right thing. Did Colin Grigson himself not believe that? There wasn’t much that had ever captured his heart completely, except metal. Maybe that was his god? Was Altair the right choice for the path of heavy metal? Certainly. As much as he talked about God and shit like that he was the most metal person he’d ever met. The dark, mystic image he projected was true through every fibre of his soul, and though he didn’t subscribe to the music itself he knew the reality of the chaotic forces behind it. And he actually believed in Satan, god damn it! How much more metal could you get? Actually, in a sense, the God he believed in wasn’t some prick in the sky who decided what people could and could not do but being true to oneself and trusting ones heart. And if Colin knew anything it was that his heart belonged to heavy metal and all that entailed, Altair included.
   Then another idea hit Colins mind. “Alt?”
   “Hm?” Altair didn’t turn away from washing his plate. 
   “What if you know in your heart that you believe somebody needs to die?”
   Altair stopped scrubbing and turned. “Then I would trust in God.”
   Colins eyes went wide. “Really? You would kill someone?”
   “Without hesitating.”
   “What if I don’t believe in God?”
   “It doesn’t matter.”
   “So, like if you’re a serial killer and you never doubt that God wants you to kill people?”
   “Then that’s his path.”
   “That’s a bit sick.”
   Altair grinned. “Have you read the Bible?”
   “No, not completely,” Colin replied. “But I take your point. I just wonder how you do that?”
   “What?”
   “Just trust in God unconditionally.”
   Altair smiled. “I have met several people who claim I have been brainwashed. And certainly the sermons of my childhood were fervent and consumed my mind, but this is my reality. Things would have been different if I had been born into a family of Jews or Atheists, but I wasn’t and that’s the way it is. I have to believe in the truth of it. The…” he searched for the right word. “The validity of it. What kind of person are you if you doubt the validity of your own reality?”
   Colin hung his head. “Or try to make other people do it.”
   “You’re not doing that, Colin,” Altair said as he took Colins empty plate and fork to put them in the sink. “You are just curious. It baffles your mind.”
   “Yeah, cause I’m stupid.” A million jeers echoed in Colins mind.
   Altair turned back to Colin. “You say that like it’s bad.”
   Colin looked up. “Isn’t it?”
   Altair shrugged. “I shouldn’t think so. Not any worse than being greedy or callous. At least you can’t help it. It’s not like you choose to be stupid.”
   Colin sat and stared as Altair turned away from him to wash his plate. He wondered how the hell this strange man he had come to care so much about could just call him stupid just like that and it made him feel warm and not angry. “No, that’s true, but it still hurts. After we first broke up I went back to uni and failed all my fucking exams.”
   Altair turned. “Who broke up?”
   “Us, the band, Bad News.”
   “Ah.”
   “And I just went back to…” Colin clamped his mouth shut as he realised that he’d never told Altair that he worked in a fucking bank. How fucking pathetic was that? That was not very metal at all. How would he deal with that?
   “Back to what?”
   Colin froze. “What time is it?”
   Altair glanced at the clock on the wall. “Ten to nine.”
   “Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck!” Colin exclaimed as he rose so fast he nearly threw the chair over. “I’m gonna be late!” He ran for the door to the shop but when he was almost there he stopped, whipped around, scanned the room, found the wig still lying on the floor, jumped and grabbed it, started for the door again, stopped again, and dashed back to Altair. “Thanks for breakfast, love you,” he said quickly and smooched Altair on the cheek. And then he was gone, leaving Altair standing alone in his kitchen bemusedly wondering how the Hell he’d turned into a housewife. 

Chapter Text

   Colin hardly slept. He kept waking up thinking he’d dreamt the whole thing, having to convince himself that it was real to be able to fall asleep again. When he woke up the following day, realising it was Saturday, it was as if his mind finally managed to accept the possibility that he had, in fact, become someones romantic partner. 
   His elation was short lived however. When he entered the small practice space later that day there was decidedly an anti-Colin atmosphere in there. He tried to ignore it, picked up his bass and fiddled with the tuning keys. 
   “Hey, Colin,” Vim said. 
   “What, Vim?” Colin replied, whipping his hair as he turned. 
   “We have to talk about this Altair guy.”
   Colins heart sank. “What is there to talk about?”
   “I think he’s poisoning the morale. You’ve been really annoying since he turned up and I don’t like it. I think it’s time he takes a hike.”
   Something broke loose inside Colin. “I don’t even know what you’re talking about.”
   “Of course not,” Vim snapped. “You’re dumber than a bag of hammers.”
   Den snorted. 
   “He’s fucking with your head,” Vim continued. “You just don’t want to admit it cause you think he’s so fucking cool.”
   “Well, well…” Colin tried desperately to find a counter argument. “What about her then?” He pointed at Sally. 
   “The fuck do you mean?” Vim protested. “She’s helping us!” 
   “Helping herself to all your cash, more like,” Colin shot back. “And Altair is helping me.”
   “The only reason he’s helping you is cause you pay him, you numbnut! Or are you going to tell me that he’s doing what he’s doing out of the kindness of his heart cause he thinks you are so cool? Go on, admit it! He doesn’t give a shit about us cause you’re the only one who has fucking money.”
   “Oh, right! And who is handling our money now, Vim?” Colin was nearly shouting. “That slag, that’s who!” He pointed at Sally again. 
   “Hey, Colin, man,” Spider stepped in. “That was uncalled for. She really is helping us, you fucking know that. You’re the only one who has any fucking money.”
   “Yeah,” Den concurred. “You middle class cunt.”
   “I don’t have that much  money,” Colin protested. 
   “So you’re not going to admit that you’re paying him?” Vim prodded Colin in the chest. 
   Colin was frozen. If he denied that he was paying Altair to hang around he would have to admit the real reason and the thought of it sent a pang of fear through him the likes of which he had never before experienced, but if he didn’t deny it he’d be admitting that he was a poser who was just using money to play cool. 
   “Go on then,” Den said derisively. He was enjoying being allowed to have a go at Colin for once. 
   “Listen, listen, guys!” Sally stepped between them. “Can we just calm down for a fucking second here.”
   “What? Are you taking his side?” Vim was confounded. 
   “No, I’m not, Vim,” Sally shot back. “But this has nothing to do with music. I don’t know why you’re behaving like a bunch of pre-schoolers but it’s got to stop!”
   “I didn’t do anything,” Vim objected. “He’s the only one who’s behaving like a fucking baby.”
   “Oh, for fucks sake, Colin,” Spider sighed when Colin right out cracked and throwing his bass guitar on the floor ran out the door absolutely bawling. 
   “Great,” Den said and huffed. “Fucking baby.”
   “Shut the fuck up, Den,” Spider snapped. 
   Den was taken aback. Usually it was Vim who told him to shut up and he wasn’t sure what to think. 
   Sally sighed. “Well, I guess we’re not going to rehearse anything today then.” She looked at Vim. “Again.”
   “So? Pub?” Spider suggested. 
   “Right on!” Den concurred and followed Spider out the door. 

   When it was only the two of them left Sally turned to Vim. “What the fuck is your problem?”
   “He’s gonna ruin the fucking band!” Vim turned away from Sally. “Fucking faggot,” he spat. 
   “Alan…”
   Vim turned to a dark faced Sally looking at him. Hearing his real name like that scared the shit out of him. “Listen, Sally…” he tried. 
   “No, don’t you ‘listen, Sally’ me, Alan,” she cut him off. “I’m working hard on this, you know that.”
   “Yeah, but…”
   “No, buts, Alan. I swear on Lemmys mutton chops if you fuck this up by being a cunt I will kiss your dumb ass goodbye with your fucking guitar, neck first!” 
   Vim swallowed. 
   “You know as well as I do what’s going on here, I’m sure even fucking Den can see it from space, and if you can’t grow up and get your imaginary little feud out of your system and end up ruining it for him I will never ever fucking forgive you!”
   Vim huffed. “Well, maybe I should just fuck off then!” He turned away and crossed his arms.
   Sally roared with frustration. She bent down and picked up a guitar pedal and threw it with all her might at Vim. It hit him square in the small of his back. 
   “OW! The fuck, Sally?!”
   “Stop being so fucking slow, you stupid cunt!” 
   Vim stared. 
   She sighed heavily. “Why do you think I’m doing all this?” She gestured around herself. 
   Vim shrugged. “Cause you like metal?”
   She laughed and threw her hands up. “You are really something.” She shook her head in disbelief. “Yes, I like metal but it’s so much more than that. I like you Alan. This band is like probably the worst metal band in the entirety of Europe but I’m doing it because I want to help you. I want you to achieve your dream.”
   Vim went beet red. 
   “So can you do me a favour? Please try to be nice to Colin? If he quits, which I actually highly doubt, he’s about as stubborn as he is stupid, but if he quits who are you going to get?”
   Vim had to admit that the chances of finding a new bass player were close to none. As awful as Colin was, he was someone. He looked at the floor. 
   She chuckled. “You don’t have to say anything. Just nod or something.”
   Vim nodded without looking at her. 
   “Thank you.”
   Vim thought that he would melt through the floor when he felt Sallys hand caress his cheek gently before turning away and leaving. They had been quite a lot more intimate than that several times by now, but somehow just that soft friendly touch turned him to mush. He nodded to himself. He would have to persevere. For Sally. 

Chapter Text

   It took Colin a week and a half to convince himself he was welcome back at Altairs place. When Vim had admonished him for hanging out with Altair, demanding he sever their friendship, and the others had taken Vims side he had thoroughly convinced himself that if he went to the shop Altair would be on their side too and laugh in his face for thinking that any of what he’d said and done meant anything. He had skulked around at home so depressingly that his mother had sent him to bed and told him to call in sick to work. 
   After almost a week in bed with his mind running in circles Colin finally managed to get some purchase on his thoughts and wrangle them into order. He got up and went to work and one elderly ladys remark about enjoying good service from a handsome young man sent him into an upward trajectory. At least, at the very worst, he would find out the truth. Hiding away and sulking would only make him miserable about something that might not even be true.
   So Colin drove once again to the small strange shop and entered quietly. He didn’t see anyone, but this was not new. He didn’t know how he did it but Altair somehow seemed to be able to appear out of nowhere as if he’d been wearing a cloaking device when Colin arrived and then after he’d foolishly called out for him revealed himself to be nearly right next to him. 
   “Alt?”
   “Yes?”
   Colin turned around. He’d been standing in the middle of the shop floor and Altair had somehow appeared behind him by the exit. “Hey, you,” was all he managed to say. 
   “Hey, you,” Altair echoed. 
   “How are you?”
   “Good,” Altair replied with a smile. “And you?”
   “Okay, I guess.”
   Altair squinted. “Are you sure?”
   Colin tried to shrug nonchalantly but wasn’t certain that he managed it. “Maybe just still thinking about the interview. A little bit.”
   Altair patted Colin on the shoulder as he passed. “Oh, don’t worry about that.” He stopped. “Actually, speaking of that, you can pay me back.”
   Colin felt a weight lift off his chest. “Yeah! Okay! Absolutely!”
   Altair chuckled. “You don’t even want to know what I’m gonna ask you.”
   “No, I’ll do it.”
   Altair grinned. 
   Colin shrank a little. “What are you going to ask?”
   “Nothing much. I was just going to ask you to come with me somewhere I have to go.”
   “Where?”
   Altair sighed and turned away. “I have to see a doctor about something but the thing is my old doctor retired so I have to go to a new one.”
   “And?”
   Altair turned back to Colin. “And it scares the shit out of me. I hate doctors. They’re condescending at best. I mean my old doctor was okay, like he’d make jokes but they were just jokes.” He sighed again. “Maybe I’ve just been very unlucky with doctors.”
   “Well, this time you’re gonna be lucky!” Colin exclaimed. 
   Altair chuckled. “You think so?”
   “Quite certain!”
   “All right then. I’m just gonna go grab a couple of things.” Altair turned to go into the apartment and then turned back to Colin. “You gonna go looking like you’re applying for the position of Iron Maiden front man?” he asked, hoping that Colin would appreciate his name dropping the only metal band name that he could remember. 
   Colin grew three inches. “You can bet your ass I am.”
   Altair smiled. “All right, I’ll only be a few minutes.”

   When Altair returned Colin was struck by how different he looked from when they’d last left the shop together. Gone was the make up and flamboyance, replaced by neatly combed hair and a plain black jacket over a black shirt that he’d buttoned all the way up except for the last button, and he was wearing a rosary. 
   “I tried buttoning it all the way up,” Altair said apologetically, as if that was the only thing that mattered. “I thought I was going to pass out.”
   “You look fine!” 
   “You think so?”
   “You look like a Catholic guy going to see the doctor.”
   Altair laughed. “I guess I can’t ask for more.”

   They left the shop together and after Altair had locked up they didn’t say much except Altair directing Colin where to drive to get to the doctors office. When they got there Altair announced his arrival to the receptionist. 
   “Name?” the receptionist enquired drily. 
   “Vives Leyva, Altair,” Altair replied. 
   The receptionist stared. 
   Altair sighed. “V, I, V, E, S, space…”
   The receptionist stared for two more seconds before realising what was happening and started typing the letters furiously. 
   “…L, E, Y, V, A,…,” Altair continued. 
   “Got it!” the receptionist exclaimed triumphantly, before sinking down with a slight blush in her face. “Sorry,” she said quietly. 
   Altair chuckled. “It’s fine.”
   “The doctor has been notified, I’ll let you know when he’s ready.”
   “Thanks.”
   “Can I help you?” The receptionist craned her neck towards Colin standing behind Altair. 
   “Nah,” Colin replied. “I’m just gonna wait with him.” 
   The receptionist seemed surprised. “Oh, all right. Have a seat then.”
   They sat down. 
   Colin leaned into Altair. “I like your name,” he whispered. 
   Altair chuckled. “Thanks. Annoys the shit out of me. The only reason I don’t change it is that it’s the only thing I have left of my family any more.”
   “Well, I wish I had a cool name like that.”
   “You’d change your mind pretty fast when you’ve had to spell it every single time you use it for three decades or so.”
   Colin didn’t know what to say to that. He’d never had to spell his name for anyone, everyone just knew how to spell it. Well, except that one time his mother had signed him up for a summer course and they’d spelled his last name with a ‘ck’ instead of the ‘g’. He remembered his mother being annoyed but she hadn’t done anything about it. He wondered how many places Altairs name was written wrong if he had to explain it every time people bothered to ask. 
   “Mister, ahm, Altair, sir, the doctor can see you now,” the receptionist stammered. 
   Altair got up. “Thank you,” he said and flashed a big smile at the receptionist who smiled back like she’d just been forgiven all her sins. 

   Colin sat alone in the waiting room for what he felt was an eternity. Then a couple of more people arrived, another eternity went by, and then the third person came and sat right next to him. It felt strange. Usually people tried to sit as far away as possible when he was dressed in the metal outfit. A third eternity went by and then Altair came back, his face white as a ghost. He nodded a curt thank you to the receptionist before heading straight for the exit, not so much as glancing in Colins direction. 
   “Hey! Alt! Wait!” Colin called as he jumped up and ran after Altair out the door. 
   Altair didn’t reply. 
   Outside Colin found Altair leaning up against the wall of the building. He grasped his arm. “Are you okay?”
   As if he’d just realised that Colin had actually been with him Altair grasped the hand holding his arm. “No,” he replied and regretted it instantly when Colins face turned to ash. “I mean, health wise I’m fine, like it’s all good. I’m just old.” He managed a small chuckle. “It’s just that…” He shuddered. “I think this is the closest I’ve come to snapping in my entire life. There was nothing at all pleasant or trustworthy about that man at all. Every time he touched me I felt like he wanted to dig his fingers into my flesh and tear me apart and every time he opened his mouth to speak I thought he was going to send me to Hell.”
   “I’m sorry.”
   “Why are you sorry?”
   “I said you were going to be lucky and then you get the worst doctor in the world.”
   Altair laughed. “It’s fine. At least when I find a new doctor he can’t possibly be as bad as this one.”
   “You want to go home?”
   “I’m not sure I’m going to make it home without crying,” Altair replied. “I might need a couple of moments.”
   Colin looked up the street. “Actually, my place isn’t far. You can have a cup of tea and a lie down maybe. I even think my mum might have some rum in the drinks cabinet.”
   Altair smiled. “I’d like that but do you think your mom won’t mind?”
   “She’s at work until five. She won’t know.”
   “All right.”

   When they got to his house Colin ushered Altair inside before confidently striding into the dining room where he opened an ornate antique drinks cabinet and looked around. “Hah! Knew it.” He pulled out a bottle. “This is rum, right?”
   Altair stared. “That’s Cruzan.”
   Colin looked at the bottle. “Is that not rum? It says rum.”
   “Yeah, it’s rum but…”
   “But what?”
   “That’s expensive stuff.”
   “Is it?”
   Altair nodded. 
   “You don’t want it?”
   “I mean, if you think your parents don’t mind I would absolutely not refuse a little sip.”
   Colin shrugged. “I’m sure its fine. They don’t drink that much.” He went into the kitchen and found a glass, opened the bottle and poured a good slug into the glass. He then put the bottle on the table and handed Altair the glass. 
   Altair took the glass. “That’s a good double,” he said with a smile. 
   “What do you mean?”
   “Doesn’t matter.” Altair closed his eyes as he sipped the golden liquid. “Fucking Hell, that’s nice,” he sighed. 
   Colin stared. 
   “You wanna try?” Altair handed the glass to Colin. 
   “Sure,” Colin replied and flipped his hair back. He took the glass and took a goodly sip. As Altair took the glass back the nice sweet spicy flavour that had filled his head the first moment changed into an explosion of heat that threatened to burst through his lungs. He coughed monstrously. 
   Altair grinned as he finished off the rest of the rum from the glass. He took the bottle, closed it and put it back into the cabinet before taking his glass to the sink in the kitchen next to the dining room and washing it, and then placing it on the bench beside the sink. 
   Colin was still trying to compose himself when Altair came back to him. 
   “Are you all right? I probably should have warned you.”
   “Fine,” Colin croaked. 
   Altair laughed. “I thought you metal guys were always getting drunk and rowdy. Or do you only drink beer.”
   “I kind of prefer beer.”
   “Why didn’t you say so then?”
   “Dunno.” Colin shrugged. “How are you feeling?” He asked, trying to divert the attention away from himself cause he was feeling very funny. 
   “I’m much better, thank you. You’ll have to give my regards to your parents for the rum.”
   Colins face scrunched up. 
   Altair chuckled.  “Okay, maybe not tell them. I thought you said they would be fine with it?” 
   “Yeah, but…”
   “But what?”
   Colin tried to focus but his head refused to cooperate. “I don’t know.”
   Altair thought he might know but decided not to press it. “Either way,” he said and laid his hand on Colins cheek. “Thank you for looking after me.”
   Colin shook his head and laid his hand on Altairs chest. “You’ve done all these things for me that you didn’t have to. I just owe you, to pay you back.” He didn’t know if it was the rum or just Altair but the moment he touched him he was filled with fire. He stepped forwards, pushing Altair into the wall by the drinks cabinet. Somehow the fact that his shirt was buttoned almost all the way up made Colin want to tear it off even more.
   Altairs breath got heavier as Colins hands got more adventurous. “Are you sure you want to do this here?”
   “I live here, it’s my house as much as my parents’ and I can do what I want. Just get up the damn stairs before I rip you apart.”

   The first time they had figured out a lot of things carefully, almost reverently, but this time they felt like they were properly allowed for the first time to crave, be needy and greedy at the same time, to explore and just… be horny. 
   The consequences were that they both completely wore themselves out, having no sense of the energy they would expend letting go like that. They didn’t much care a single iota about anything of the world around them at that moment, but that much physical exertion was not something either of them was used to. 
   “I think I’m gonna pass out,” Altair sighed as he sank back into Colins bed. 
   “Go right ahead,” Colin replied, sitting on the edge of the bed wiping sweat of his face with his t-shirt. He watched Altair close his eyes and sink into exhausted sleep. He tossed a bit of the blanket over him, more as a civil gesture rather than any notion that it would serve a purpose, and then he lay down next to him. There was barely room for the both of them side by side but Colin didn’t mind. He looked at the clock. It was only two. Altair could sleep a couple of hours and then he’d just wake him and they could sneak back out. But before he knew he had fallen into sleep himself.

Chapter Text

   Colin was startled back into consciousness by the front door slamming. He looked at the clock. It said five twenty. “Oh, crap, oh, crap, oh, crap…” he muttered under his breath as he scrambled to put his clothes on and leave his room. He tried to close the door as carefully as he could.
   “Colin?” came his mothers voice.
   “Yeah?” he replied as he descended the stairs, trying his best to look like he’d just been reading or watching a film like he often did when he wasn’t at work.
   “Oh, so you’re home, dear.”
   “Yeah.” For a moment Colin entertained the idea that his mother had not noticed anything out of the ordinary. 
   “Whose shoes are those black ones in the foyer, dear?”
   Crap. “Oh, they’re my friends. I invited him over for tea but then he felt a bit sickly so I let him have a nap in my room. He works very strange hours, so he was probably just tired.”
   His mother glanced towards the foyer, as if to make sure that she hadn’t mistaken the shoes. “It’s not one of your band friends, is it?”
   “No, it’s not one of them.”
   “Oh good.”
   Normally he would have been annoyed at her for voicing her dislike for his bandmates but at that moment he was glad she had something else to think about and quite frankly he was getting tired of them himself. 
   “I’m going to make some tea. You want some, dear?”
   “Oh, absolutely,” Colin replied and sat down in the kitchen. He watched his mother make the tea. 
   “It’s almost ready, dear,” she said as she picked cups out of the cupboard.  
   “Great,” Colin said as he rose again. “I’m just gonna go to the toilet real quick and then I’ll have some with you.”

   When he got back his mother wasn’t in the kitchen. “Mum?”
   “Yes, dear?” came the reply from the top of the stairs. 
   “What are you doing?”
   “I thought your friend might like some tea. It’s good for you to have some hot tea when you’re sickly.”
   Colin turned blue as he took the stairs in three bounds but he was still too late. Frozen solid on the landing at the top of the stairs he watched as his mother knocked on his door and then opened it, tea tray in hand like a top class room service lady. In his mind flashed the image of what she was seeing as she stopped dead in her tracks in the doorway. The blanket had hardly covered Altairs torso let alone anything else of his utter nakedness. Colin had never thought of his mother as a sexual person but he was at this moment quite certain that she recognised all the signs implied by what she was seeing. 
   Colin swallowed as his mother quietly closed the door to his room again and walked, without a word, back down the stairs. When she was almost all the way down Colin snapped to life again. “I can explain!” he called down. 
   His mother stopped and turned. “What are you going to explain, dear?”
   He opened his mouth and then closed it again. There was nothing to explain, there was nothing that was in any way unclear. He entered the kitchen quietly. His mother had sat down and was sipping her tea. His cup sat by his seat waiting for him so he sat down as well. 
   “Is there something you want to tell me, dear?” his mother asked.
   He hung his head. He didn’t know what he could say that she hadn’t already surmised from the circumstances. 
   “What’s his name?”
   “Altair,” Colin replied.
   “That sounds foreign.”
   “He’s Cuban.”
   “I see,” she replied and sipped her tea. “Is it serious?”
   He looked up and nodded as affirmatively as he possibly could. “Yes.”
  “That’s good,” his mother said and took another sip.
   Colin stared. Why was she taking this so well? Maybe she was just in shock and he’d get a speech later. Surely she wasn’t that okay with all this? Then again, he was thirty one. Maybe she was just so relieved that he had a relationship at all that she’d settle with anything?
   “Where did you meet him?”
   “Ahm, in his shop.”
   His mother looked over the rim of her tea cup. “He doesn’t look like anyone I’ve seen in a shop.”
   He laughed. “You’ve not been in all shops in the city, mum.”
   She smiled. “I meant to say that he doesn’t look like he works in the kind of shop I would go to.”
   “No, you wouldn’t,” Colin said. “It’s kind of… a… metal shop. Like, kind of a heavy metal antique store, yeah. Not really your thing.”
   His mother chuckled. “If you say so, dear.”
   Colin brought the tea cup up to his lips and then froze. What if his mother asked how old Altair was. He nearly dropped the teacup when the realisation hit him that he was probably the same age as his mother. Maybe even older. When this thought led him to his father he nearly whimpered. 
   As if on cue the phone rang and his mother answered it. He listened to her speaking to the person on the other end. It sounded like she was talking to his father. “All right, dear,” she said finally. “We’ll see you Thursday then.” She put the phone down. “Your father had to to Devon to look at some plans.”
   Colin sighed with relief. No matter how lightly his mother seemed to be taking this he was certain that his father would not be so understanding. He would need time to prepare.

Chapter Text

   “Hey, Alt?” Colin nudged his lover.
   “Mm?” Altair stirred slightly.
   “I’m sorry.”
   Altair opened one eye. “For what?”
   “I fell asleep and I forgot to watch the clock.”
   Altair glanced at the clock, it said five forty five, but Colins face strongly indicated there was more than that. “And?”
   “And now my mums home.” Colin sank even deeper into himself.
   Altair opened his other eye and sat up. “And?”
   Colin hesitated for a moment and then he unleashed everything. “She saw your shoes and I told her that I’d had a friend over and that you’d felt a little sick so I let you take a nap in my room and then she was going to make tea and I just went to the toilet and when I got back she was half way up the stairs because she thought it was a good idea to bring you some tea if you were sick and I couldn’t stop her.” He took a short breath before carrying on. “And she opened the door and just closed it again and she didn’t really say anything and I’m freaking out because then dad called and he’s going to be away until Thursday but now she’s making dinner and she’s laid the table for three!” Colin hid his face in his hands. 
   “And?” 
   Colin looked at Altair. “What do you mean ‘and’? How are you so calm about this?”
   Altair shrugged. “Do you doubt your mothers care in your regard?”
   “Well, no.” 
   “Then what’s the problem? Sure it would have been nice to make a, how shall we say, less sordid first impression but I suspect it would have taken you quite a while to find the courage to tell her about us in the first place.”
   Colin had to admit that this was true but he still felt the dread in his chest. 
   “Do you doubt me, Colin?”
   Colin thought back to what Altair had said about believing in the right path. If he said he doubted him he would probably just leave and never come back. And he didn’t doubt him, as a matter of fact he felt like he had never met anyone before whom he felt he could trust like Altair, not even his mother. “No, of course not,” he said. “I just feel scared.”
   “That is because you doubt,” Altair replied. “You doubt the intentions of your mother or mine or your own.”
   Colin shook his head. “I don’t doubt you, I don’t! Honest!”
   “Then what? You think your mother is going to poison our food?”
   Colin grumbled. “She wouldn’t have to,” he muttered under his breath. His mother was neither an enthusiastic nor a good cook. And what was worse was that while she often bought nice things for him and his father and the home in general, when it came to food she was a miser. The simple fact of the matter was that she didn’t enjoy eating which meant that she didn’t ever assume that anyone else did. So she bought the cheapest crap she could find. Some times he didn’t know how he wasn’t dead from malnutrition. 
   “You think I could take a shower?”
   Colins brain stuttered for a bit. “Ah, yeah, there’s towels in the bathroom.” He got up. “I’ll go downstairs and keep her occupied.”

   The food was ready and Colins mother was just putting the last bowl on the table when Colin saw Altair come down the stairs and he felt warm. He had to admit that seeing Altair made him feel calmer, safer. Now he just had to pray that Altairs dark elegance would impress his mother. 
   “Evening, Altair,” she said as he entered the kitchen. “Do have a seat.”
   “Thank you, mrs. Grigson,” Altair said and sat down. 
   “So my Colin says you have your own business?” She said as she started scooping things on plates. 
   Colin rolled his eyes. Of course that would be the first thing she’d pick up on. He bet himself that next she would simply ask if that meant that he could get her freeloading, no good son out of her house.
   “That is true. It’s not much but I’ve dedicated myself to it.”
   “I see,” she replied. “And how long have you had this business.”
   “Oh, I’d say about twenty years, in one form or another.”
   Colin swallowed. He watched Altair start at the food that he’d been given and not even hesitate in spite of it looking rather sad and unappetising, clearly not a single doubt in his mind. Out of the corner of his eye he could see the wheels cranking his mothers brain as she calculated decades backwards. Please don’t ask, he pleaded in his head.
   “Pardon me for asking,” she said. “But how old are you?”
   “Fifty one,” came the reply from Altair without any hesitation whatsoever. 
   Colin stared into his plate. He did not want to look at his mother. He could feel her gaze in the side of his head. He had never asked, it had never even occurred to him that age was something that should get in their way. It wasn’t about years, it was about connection, protection, a bond that even traversed other worlds. But now when he was sitting in his mothers kitchen when numbers had come out and his suspicions had been right he was certain that his mother was going to murder him. She was going to grab the carving knife and ram it in his ear and then she’d lodge it in Altairs skull for being a foul old seducer who had soiled her house.
   Suddenly another thought struck Colin. What if his mother asked Altair what kind of business he had and he’d tell her he was a catholic priest who dealt in exorcism and the occult? He totally would, even if he technically wasn’t really a priest any more. Beads of sweat started to form on his forehead and he feared he might faint and fall off his chair. In his desperation to try and hide how he was feeling he tried to eat something but the absolutely bland and horrible food made him feel even more sick. 
   “Well, I suppose years don’t account for much in these matters,” Colins mother suddenly said. 
   Colin looked up. His mother was daintily mopping up some sauce with a piece of bread. There was a strange twinkle in her eye and a tiny wry smile on her lips. He looked at Altair who sent him a beaming smile which said ‘told you there was no need to be frightened’.
   They finished the meal in silence. When they had finished Colins mother started clearing up. “You know, you’re welcome to stay,” she said as she ran some plates under the tap and then put them in the dish washer. 
   With his face Colin begged Altair to say no. He knew what would inevitably happen if he stayed and he could not bear the idea of his mother actually hearing it. It was dreadful enough an idea that she knew that it had happened in the house.
   “That’s very kind, mrs. Grigson,” Altair replied. “But I have to get to the shop early in the morning so it’s best that I go.”
   Colin breathed a heavy sigh of relief. 
   Colins mother turned. “Are you all right, dear?”
   “Ahm, yeah, uh, yeah,” Colin stammered. “Just full. Thanks for the food, mum.”
   “You’re welcome, dear.”
   Altair stood up. “Thank you for the food, mrs. Grigson. It was lovely.”
   Colin stared. Surely he didn’t mean that. “I’m gonna walk him to the bus stop, mum.”
   “Bus stop? Don’t you have a car?”
   Altair shook his head. “Not even a licence.”
   “Well, I can drive you.”
   Colin gasped for air. 
   “No, it’s fine, mrs. Grigson. I can take the bus.”
   Colin nearly pushed Altair out the door and across the lawn. When they were out of view of the house Colin sighed. “Are you trying to kill me?” he whined.
   Altair grinned. “I told you there was no need to worry.”
   “No need to worry?! She has never been so calm about anything in her life. I’m telling you when I get back home she’s going to execute me.”
  “I don’t think she is. I think she decided that she had no right to tell you off for being with someone older than you.”
   Colin stopped. “What do you mean?”
   “Just that. I got the distinct feeling that she knew something about that kind of thing that maybe nobody else knows about. Of course I’m assuming that your father isn’t twenty years older than her.”
   Colin shook his head. “No, he’s fifty four.”
   “Then maybe you should just ask her why she wasn’t angry at you.”
   “Are you kidding?”
   “No, why would I be kidding?”
   “I might not be the happiest person around but I’m definitely not suicidal.”
   Altair laughed. “Fair enough. That’s your decision.”
   “I’m sorry,” Colin said as they came to the bus stop. 
   “Don’t be sorry,” Altair replied. “Be happy that your family supports you.”
   Colin glanced back towards the house. “Well, mom. I don’t know what dad’s gonna say.”
   “You’ll find out soon enough.”
   Colin turned back to Altair. “I suppose.”
   “You should get back, you’re cold.”
   “I’m not,” Colin protested just as a massive shiver shook him. 
   Altair grinned. “Yes, you are. Go and get some rest. I’ll see you later.”
   “You’ll be alright?”
   “Yes, Colin. I’ll be fine. Right now I think I am feeling better than I ever have before in my life.”
   “Really?”
   Altair nodded. “Really. Considering that when I came out of the doctors office this afternoon I thought I was going to vomit, set the building on fire and then kill myself, I am amazingly well.”
   Colin chuckled. He wanted to say that some times he felt like that after band practice but he decided not to spoil the moment. As the bus came rumbling he tried to think of something clever to say but nothing happened.
   “See’ya,” Altair said as he entered the large vehicle and then disappeared .
   As he turned to head home Colin thought that Altair should have a mode of transport more befitting his style, like a really old black American car, but then again it made more sense that he didn’t. It was their style, both of them, they sought out the places where everyone said they wouldn’t fit and made it theirs. 
   Colin sighed as he thought back to his last band practice. Well, row. It seemed to be mostly what they did. But he would have to persevere. He did want it to work. As hard as it was and as fucked up it was he did better and felt better than he’d done at school, like ever. At least he did feel like he belonged there, no matter how much Vim said he didn’t. Den and Spider most likely thought so too. Well, Spider probably didn’t give a shit either way. 
   “Are you all right, dear?”
   “Huh?” Colin stopped by the bottom of the stairs.
   “You seem down. Are you all right?”
   “Nah, yeah, I’m fine mum. I’ve just been doing a lot of thinking these past few days.” He chuckled. Not even when he strained the most at school had he felt as challenged as now. 
   His mother smiled. “That’s what happens when you grow up, dear,” she replied. And then she disappeared back into the kitchen. Leaving him standing by the bottom of the stairs with brand new things to think about. 

Chapter Text

   If Colins view of his mother had changed the previous day it was dramatically altered the following morning. When he was getting dressed for work he heard her calling. 
   “Colin!”
   “Yes, mum,” Colin called out into the hallway
   “Is this yours?”
   Colin stuck his head through the doorway. “Is what mine?”
   “This?” In her hand she held a fine chain with a wolfs head pendant.
   “Yes! Oh, mum! Where did you find it?!” Colin grabbed the pendant and squeezed it in his hand. 
   “In the wash room, behind the laundry basket.”
   Colin brought his closed fist up to his mouth and kissed it before he realised that his mother was still looking at him. His face went red. 
   His mother smiled. “Is it something he gave you?”
   Colin stared at the ground, hiding the necklace in his fist. “Yes.”
   “Then maybe you should look after it better, dear.” She turned to leave.
   “Mum, why didn’t you get angry that he’s so much older than me?” Colin clamped his mouth shut, not entirely believing that he had actually asked. 
   His mother stopped. “Well, I suppose that there is no harm in telling you now,” she replied as she turned back to him.
   Colin stared. 
   “When I was nineteen I worked for a summer in a bed and breakfast. It was run by a mrs. Rumingsforth and her son, Trevor.” She smiled as he let herself travel back. “He was such a charmer, Trevor.”
   Colin felt like he needed to brace himself. 
   “Only trouble was, he was thirty eight.”
   Colins jaw sank. In his mind he saw Altairs smiling face looking at him and telling him that she knew something. He didn’t know how the hell he’d figured this out but he’d been right. 
   She didn’t wait for Colin to digest this information but continued. “We felt these feelings so strongly, even though we both knew it would only last the summer. I had to go back to my home and he couldn’t leave his home. And I don’t regret any of it. As a matter of fact, if I had the chance, I would do it again.” She chuckled. “He’ll be almost seventy now.” She sighed. “If he is even still alive.”
  “Does…” Colin hesitated.
   “Does your father know?”
   Colin nodded. 
   “Of course, dear. We were already dating then and as much as I felt like it was something I needed to hide I would never have forgiven myself if I hadn’t been honest to him about it.”
   “And he was just fine with it?”
   She tilted her head slightly. “Well, I wouldn’t say fine, but we talked through it and came to the conclusion that we still wanted to be with each other. And it was only a year or so before you were born. And in any case I’ve not much thought about it since.” She looked Colin straight in the eyes. “Until now.”
   “I told Alt I was worried you’d be angry about us and he said I shouldn’t worry because he could tell that you knew something.” 
   She laughed. “Did he now?”
   Colin nodded. “It’s because of the…” he almost said ‘dark arts’ and then realised he couldn’t even say it was because he’d been a guidance to people as a catholic priest. He didn’t even remember if it had ever come up that Altair was a catholic. Wouldn’t it be funny if that was the thing that would make his mother flip her lid. They weren’t particularly religious. As his father would often joke, ‘We’re C of E, we don’t have to go to church.’
   “Because of what, dear?” His mother raised an eyebrow at her son, standing there with his mouth half open as if someone had shut him off.
   “I don’t know what to call it,” Colin tried to save himself. 
   His mother chuckled. “All right, dear.” She patted his arm. “Now get to work before you’re late.”
   “Oh, right!” Colin had completely forgotten he was on his way to work. He spun around three times trying to remember if he was forgetting anything, grabbed his jacket and half ran down the stairs, giving his mother a smooch on the top of the head as he passed her. 
   “Love you too, dear,” she called after him as he disappeared out the door. 

Chapter Text

   When Colin stepped out of the bank at the end of his work day he felt like he needed to go see Altair right away. No saving it until he was on his way to or from band practice, or even full metal mode with make up and everything. If this was going to be a thing, a relationship, Altair would have to know what he was really like most of the time.
   When he arrived at the door of the small shop Colins heart was beating faster than it had ever done before, even that dreadful moment at Donnington when he realised that someone had taken a knife to his throat had he felt this scared. Voices in his head tried to deter him but he closed his eyes and when he touched the door handle he could feel himself being pulled inside. 
   When Colin closed the door behind him he could feel Altair standing there looking at him. He turned slowly around and there he was, in the same place as when he’d first seen him, his head slightly tilted. “You look different,” he said with a smile. 
   “Well, this is me,” Colin chuckled awkwardly, his voice almost breaking.
   “You work in a bank or something?”
   Colin nodded. 
   “That explains a lot.”
   “What do you mean?” Colin asked, expecting Altair to say that would be why he was such a fucking drip. 
   “Mixed cosmic messages,” Altair replied. 
   “A what?”
   “It was like you had two spirits. I couldn’t quite put my finger on what you were trying to hide under that wig but I get it now. Being a banker isn’t very glamorous and definitely not very metal.”
   Colin snorted. “No, definitely not!”
   “So why did you bring him?”
   “Who?”
   “The banker.” Altair gestured towards Colins light blue grey suit. 
   “Cause…” Colin looked at the ground, his mind working desperately to find words that would work. He looked up again. “Cause I wanted you to know all of me, you know?” He picked at his thumb. “When I say it now it feels stupid cause you probably already knew but here we are.”
   Altair smiled. “Thank you.” He put away a box into a shelf. “You’re right, I had more or less gotten an idea of what was inside that ostentatious leather jacket of yours but I appreciate the honesty.” He looked Colin right in the eyes. “A lot, truly, thank you.”
   “Now I just have to worry that you like this more than the metal,” Colin said with a nervous chuckle. 
   “Why would that be?”
   Colin ran his hands down the front of his jacket as if he needed to be as smooth and pressed in this manifestation as he believed his metal outfit was wild and rebellious. “Dunno, cause you’re religious and stuff.”
   Altair laughed. “Jesus kicked the money lenders out of the temple,” he replied. “If there is anything that a religious person should not go near it’s money.”
   “Oh…” Colin sighed. He was deflating rapidly. 
   “But I get what you mean.” Altair walked up to Colin and grasped his arm. “I like you whatever you’re wearing. Doesn’t matter to me. You just wear whatever makes you comfortable around me and I’ll be fine.”
   “What would you like me to wear?” Colin asked as Altair grabbed an empty box and headed back to the apartment beyond. 
   “Nothing at all,” Altair replied as he disappeared. 
   Colin felt himself go crimson and his throat was suddenly very dry. He walked after Altair into the kitchen. “Suddenly I’m very very thirsty,” he said. “Can I have a glass of water?”
   Altair turned, his face lit up by a massive grin. “Certainly.” He ran some water into a glass and handed it to Colin. 
   As Colin finished the water and handed the glass back to Altair the phone on the wall rang. 
   Altair picked up the receiver. “Hello?”
   A voice on the other end talked loudly into some sort of voice modifier which made them sound scratchy and distorted. “Leave Colin the fuck alone or we’ll kill you.” Then they hung up. 
   Colin stared. Who the hell would make that kind of a phone call?
   “Aw, shit,” Altair said. “You weren’t supposed to know about that.”
   Colin inhaled sharply. “You mean that’s not the first call?”
   Altair shook his head. I’d say maybe fourth or fifth. 
   “Why didn’t you tell me? We need to tell the police!”
   “Why? What are they going to do?”
   “They can find out who’s making these phone calls. Before you get hurt!”
   Altair shrugged. “I’ve had a good life.”
   Colin whimpered. “What?! You’ve just resigned yourself to death? What the fuck, man!”
   “If that’s what God wants.”
   Colin stomped his foot down. “I’ve had it with your God shit! You’re just using it as an excuse to give up before you’ve even tried!”
   Altair looked at Colin, his eyes dark. “All right, I wasn’t going to tell you this either but since you’re being difficult I will. I already talked to the police. Do you know what happened?”
   Colin shook his head. 
   “The last thing the guy said before literally throwing me out was that he hoped that whoever it was that made the call would get me soon.”
   Colin stared. “That can’t be true,” he whispered. 
   “You think I’m lying?”
   Colin looked at the ground. “No. I’m sorry.”
   “It’s fine, Colin,” Altair said and sighed. “I have no energy to be angry at you anyway.”
   “Who was it?”
   “Who was what?”
   “Who said that to you?”
   “I can’t remember.”
   Colin clenched his fists. “You’re lying, I can tell. Doesn’t your God say you should tell the truth?”
   Altair chuckled weakly. “He does. His name was Somers or Summerson or something like that.”
   “Fucking…” Colin spun around, grasping at his hair. For a couple of moments he was quiet before turning back to face Altair. “I know him, he’s a friend of my dads.” Colin took a deep breath. “I’ll tell that fucking…”
   “Please, Colin, don’t make noise.”
   “Why not?”
   “Because I’m asking you not to, Colin. Is that not enough?”
   “No,” Colin replied, his cheeks flushed. “Look at me, do I look like someone who’s not going to make noise?” He realised after he’d said it that it was a little less effective wearing a blue grey bankers suit and not the metal outfit. 
   Altair walked up to Colin and grasped his arm. “Please, don’t.”
   “Why not?” 
   Altair sighed. “Because I already tried it.”
   “What? Here?”
   Altair let go of Colins arm and walked over to the table where he sat down. “No, not here,” he said as he rested his arms on the table top. “In New York.”
   Colin sat down next to him. 
   “In my life I have spent a lot of time trying to reconcile myself with what other people tell me that God wants from me and no matter how I tried to approach it I always came to the conclusion that God wanted me to be what I knew myself to be. That if he didn’t love me the way I was he would have made me some other way.” Altair turned to Colin. “And I tried to tell them, to convince them that there was no other way that I could be, that maybe they could understand Gods words in a different way or even just grant me peace to exist in Gods light away from their judgement.” He turned his gaze back to his hands. 
   “Did they not listen?” Colin asked.
   “Listen?” Altair laughed coldly. “People threw rocks at me, Colin. They literally drove me out with garbage and planks and flaming torches.” 
   “I’m sorry,” Colin whispered. He didn’t believe in any of this religious crap but he wished for nothing more than for Altair to know that he understood his pain. 
   “So I don’t make noise,” Altair continued. “I just exist in my little shadowy corner of this Earth and pray that I haven’t misunderstood God.” He turned back to Colin. “And I let people who have problems with me keep their problems away from me. I can’t go through all that shit any more. I’m too old and I’m too fucked up and I have no place to go.”
   “Okay, I promise,” Colin said. “I won’t make noise.” His heart ached to think what would happen if the person who had called made good on their threats. “But if something happens to you I would never forgive myself.”
   “That’s okay, Colin,” Altair said with a weak smile. “God will forgive you.”
   “For getting you killed?”
   “If it’s my fate…”
   “You’re doing it again,” Colin said sharply. 
   “Sorry.”
   “Can you at least not talk like you’ve accepted a death sentence?”
   “Being alive is a death sentence, Colin. I would have thought you metal heads had that one sussed at least.”
   Colin felt embarrassed as he thought back to Vim writing lyrics about motorcycles, leather jackets, drinking and puking. The closest they’d come to contemplating death was singing about killing everyone else. Their own mortality never entered into the picture except to scream ‘I’m gonna drink till I die’. “It’s not really that kind of metal band,” he muttered under his breath. 
   Altair chuckled weakly. “Well, I wouldn’t know one thing from the other.”
   “So what the fuck am I supposed to do?”
   “We carry on regardless, like we’ve always done. Right?”
   “I don’t know if I can.”
   “Listen, Colin, if they do show up I’ll be ready, okay?”
   “You promise?”
   “I swear on everything that’s holy to me. I will do it for you. I will prepare.”
   “Okay.” Colin wanted to say something more but then they heard the door of the shop open. 
   Without a word Altair got up and went back to the store to attend to the customer. 
   Quietly Colin stood in the doorway, half hidden by the curtain. He watched Altair greet the newcomer and fall right back into the effortless charm that had hit him the first time he had been in this place. It made him feel so much better. Maybe it would all be all right.

Chapter Text

   Two weeks passed and nothing much happened. Colin felt every day that he needed to check on Altair but after four days in a row even he could sense that Altair was getting annoyed with him so he made himself a plan to space out his check ups. One more time he went after roughly a week and met with a better mood but he couldn’t help feeling like the whole thing was crumbling into dust. Something had come loose and Altair seemed to have retreated even further into the darkness to hide from it. 

   One chilly night Altair found himself pottering around in the shop with the front door open a little longer than usual. He felt there was no harm in it, some times new stragglers came in late, it was a habit. He’d gone into the adjacent kitchen to get himself a glass of water when he heard the shop door slam and the lock take hold. He half turned and he could feel the air cool down considerably. That was it. This was his time. He turned back to the kitchen sink, finished his water, rinsed the glass under the tap and placed it carefully on the drying rack. He thought back to promising Colin that he would prepare for this. The truth of it was that the kind of preparing he had done was most likely not the kind of preparing Colin had thought it would be. He sighed heavily. Then he took a deep breath and turned. 
   The sight that met Altair was not what he had expected. “Well, this is a surprise,” he said. “Can’t say it’s a pleasant one, but a surprise none the less.”
   “I already told you, you fuck.”
   “You did.” Altair pretended to think. “Den, was it?” He didn’t wait for a reply. “But I was rather hoping your friend Vim would have the balls to do it himself. Can’t have everything, I suppose.” 
   Den took a step closer and Altair replied by taking a step closer too. Den wavered ever so slightly. 
   Altair glanced down at the weapon in Dens hand. “Steel pipe,” he grinned. “Very metal.”
   “Fuck you,” Den spat.
   “Eloquent,” Altair replied with a raised eyebrow. “I suppose it’s not going to help to ask you nicely to leave my home?”
   “The fuck is wrong with you?”
   “With me? You’re standing here, in my kitchen, with a steel pipe in your hand and I am assuming that you are intending to commit murder, and you’re asking what’s wrong with me? I’ll tell you what is wrong with me. What’s wrong with me is that I’ve seen too many stupid fuckwits like you who think that the world fucking owes them something and that they have the right to decide for someone else what is and isn’t right. I’m sick and tired of listening to your self righteous fucking drivel. Either do what you came here to do or get your deranged ass out of my fucking house, pendejo!” To accentuate his words Altair took another step towards Den. 
   As if someone had cut the strings holding him Den roared and whipped the pipe up, hitting Altair in the side of the face. He staggered backwards until he hit the kitchen bench. It gave him a jolt of defiance and he tried to grab the pipe out of Dens hand but as slow witted Den might be his reflexes were excellent and he managed to step away before grabbing the pipe with both hands and swinging it round like a bat. 
   Altair heard something crack. He didn’t know if it was his jaw, his teeth or his skull but his mouth filled with blood and his vision became blurry. As he crashed into the floor he closed his eyes and let himself fall motionless. He pleaded with God to help Colin to forgive him. He hadn’t lied, he did prepare. He had prepared to die. At last there would be no more pain. 

Chapter Text

   For almost half a minute Colin did not know if he was alive or dead. The magnificent horror that had descended upon him in his sleep had vanished but his heart was still beating like crazy and he was sweating like a race horse in the middle of summer. He had a vague recollection of hearing a frightful scream but he didn’t know if it had been a part of the dream or if he’d woken himself up with his screaming. As his mind again caught hold of reality a single thought consumed it, I need to get to Altairs place. 
   In a panic Colin put on clothes, a random selection of metal gear lying haphazardly around his room, and then exited the house as silently as possible while still trying to go as fast as he could. When he started the car and stepped on the gas all worries about startling anyone awake evaporated and he made a beeline for Altairs shop. 
   When Colin got there he ignored two one way signs and a no parking placard as he stomped the car to a halt on the sidewalk opposite the store. As he stepped out he could see orange shapes dancing on the other side of the windows. There was a fire. 
   People who had already gathered shouted at Colin as he ran towards the door and a man grabbed him trying to stop him. “We’ve already called the fire brigade!”
   Colin shook him off. “He’s in there, I know he’s in there!” he shouted as he grabbed the door and shoved. It opened and as it did a draft of air pulled the raging fire out, blowing him over. 
  The gathered people screamed and someone tried grabbing Colin again. This time he punched wildly until he was loose again and then he dove inside. Everything was burning. The shelves, the tables and boxes of trinkets and jewels. Everything was disappearing into the flames. 
   And then Colin saw him. Lying on the floor, in a puddle of blood, so still, so lifeless. He shrieked as he ran over, ignoring the flames around him licking at him, threatening to entangle him and drag him into infernal death, grabbed Altairs shirt at the shoulders and heaved him across the floor and out of the burning room. As he exited a set of heavy shelves came down off the wall, taking several boxes with them and crashed like a hell avalanche into the floor. 
   Colin didn’t stop until he was in the middle of the street. People tried to get at them but he screamed and punched. In the distance sirens heralded the approach of the firemen but all he could see was the bloodied body of his beloved lying in the street. As he collapsed down into the street next to him crying he was vaguely aware of people around them talking but he didn’t hear what they said. There was too much blood. 

   Colin partially regained consciousness sitting in a hospital waiting room. He tried thinking back but it was all a blur. There was so much blood. Somewhere in the fog in his head a doctor said “It’s touch and go at the moment, but we’re doing everything we can.” He didn’t remember much more. 
   “You should go get some rest.”
   Colin looked up. A nurse was standing over him looking quite concerned. 
   “There is nothing more you can do now here,” she continued. “It’s better that you rest.”
   Colin nodded like a zombie and got up with difficulty. He’d go home and rest. He probably wouldn’t sleep but he could lie down in his own bed. With his own things. They would help keep him calm. Yes, that was a good idea. 

  When Colin stood in the foyer of his home he was drawn to the drinks cabinet. In his mind played the scene when he’d given Altair the rum. He opened the door and found the bottle. “Cruzan,” he muttered. “That’s expensive stuff.” He took it with him up into his room. He tried to take a swig but ended up in the foetal position on the floor trying not to suffocate. He thanked anything worth thanking that his parents had decided to move their bedroom to the guest room on the ground floor cause they couldn’t be bothered with the stairs in the mornings and evenings any more or they would have surely heard him. 
   After regaining some of his composure Colin resorted to taking small sips. It wasn’t very glorious but he felt warmer every time and it burned less and less. As he thought about what had happened more and more the anger increased in his chest. But it wasn’t the hurting, debilitating anger that made him cry and hide when Vim was mean to him. This anger was like a fire and he almost felt like he could summon it into his palm and shoot it at someone. 
   Altairs words echoed in Colins head, “Don’t make noise,” but when he thought about him lying there on the floor all covered in blood, everything he ever owned in this world burning around them his fury was magnified. 
Colin found his satchel and picked out some cosmetics. He would put on war paint and he would confront the devil. 

   “Somerson!” Colin shouted as he barged into the police station in the early morning. “Where are you, you fucking prick?!”
   A policeman stopped him. “You might want to choose your next words carefully,” he said. 
   Somerson appeared around a corner. “Oh, it’s you, Colin.”
   “I know what you did, you piece of shit!” Colin shouted.
   Somerson came up to him. “Does your father know what you get up to, Colin? Maybe I should tell him, hmm?”
   In one deep breath Colin mustered all the courage he had ever had, fuelled by expensive and heavily spiced rum. “If he dies, Trevor,” he said, every word carrying the weight of his soul. “You will have killed me too. Try explaining that to my father,” he spat before whipping his arm out of the policemans grasp, turning and leaving the police station. 
   The policeman watched Colin leave before turning to Somerson with a quizzical look. 
   Somerson shrugged. “I have no idea what that was about,” he replied to the policemans wordless question but he could tell that his words were not convincing anyone. 

   Colin didn’t know where he was or what happened that entire day, or the night after. All he knew was that he was woken up by a policeman in the park around mid morning. 
   “You can’t sleep here, sonny!” 
   Colin grumbled and mumbled something as he clambered to his feet. Everything ached, his chest the most. “It’s all right,” he said, swaying dramatically and holding his arm out towards the policeman as if he expected to extract some balance from him by telekinesis. “I’ve got to go to band practice.”
   The policeman smiled ever so slightly. “At what time?”
   As if switched to some strange autopilot Colins mind whipped up perfectly the schedule that they had set when they started. “Twelve thirty,” he replied. He held up a index finger of the hand on the outstretched arm. “Exactly, mind you.”
   The policeman chuckled. “Well, you’ve got two hours to get there then, sonny.”
   “Thank you, sir,” Colin replied and saluted, other arm still outstretched towards the policeman. 
   “Do you even know in which direction you’re going?” The policeman asked, his voice a little softer as if his annoyance at this no good metal vagrant had shifted towards more genuine concern. 
   Colin looked around without repositioning his hands, looking like a very strange weather wane. 
   The policeman had to stifle a laugh. 
   Colin nodded. “Yes, yes, sir, I do.”
   “All right then, sonny, get going then.”
   “Yes, sir.”
   The policeman had already disappeared between some trees further down the pathway when Colins arms finally sank down to his sides. He membered he did have band practice but he also remembered everything else. He should go to the hospital and check on Altair. No, he would miss band practice and Vim would be suspicious. Altair was going to be fine, he had to believe it. For now. And he had to keep up the façade that there was nothing going on. So far it was only his mother that knew about Altair and she had no idea what had happened. So he would keep going. 

   “The fuck…” Vim was actually speechless when Colin shambled into the studio, looking like shit. He was wearing the metal garb to the max but no wig, his make up smeared and runny. “The fuck happened to you?”
   “Dunno,” Colin replied. He shrugged and threw his head back for good measure. “Got drunk and passed out in a park somewhere.” 
   Vim didn’t say anything. Colin certainly did look like he’d gotten drunk and passed out in a park somewhere. Maybe there was hope for the idiot yet. 
   “Man, your make up looks like you’ve been crying for days,” Spider quipped. 
   Colin half turned towards Spider as he picked up his bass. “Well, maybe I have.”
   “What, did someone die or something?” Den asked with a broad grin. 
   Colin turned towards Den. “You really are a spiteful little cunt, aren’t you?”
   Spider snorted. 
   Vim stared. 
   Colin ignored all of them and played a lick on the bass. It sounded good and it sank into his gut where the bass hung and trickled like hot cocoa through his veins. 
   “You wanna fucking start something?!” Den growled.
   “Shut the fuck up, Den!” Vim shouted at Den and then turned to Colin. “Do that again.”
   Colin blinked. “Do what again?”
   “That line that you just did. On the bass. Do it again.”
   Colin looked down at his hands and for a moment he feared that he’d forgotten what it was that he did, but then it just seemed to happen. He had no control over it, the notes just came flowing out of him. 
   “Spider!” Vim gestured Spider to get behind the drum kit where he started making up a beat to Colins bass line. 
   Vim grinned. “You know what? I think we might have something there.”

Chapter Text

   For most of the rest of the day Colin wandered around aimlessly before he managed to find courage to go to the hospital. The reply he got was that Altair was stable but still unconscious. It looked good but he was still not out of all danger. They described it all to him but he remembered none of it, but apparently even that was quite apart from any unknown damages that might only be seen after he regained consciousness. In his mind he prepared for the worst, now sober and with somewhat more clarity than, well, since he’d awoken from the nightmare that sent him to find Altair in the flames really. 
   After getting permission to clean himself up a little in a bathroom at the hospital he did some more wandering before he dared to go home.

   “Colin?”
   Colin stopped dead in his tracks. He’d intended to sneak unseen up to his room and try his very best to get some sleep before he would inevitably face his parents but it seemed that his father had a different idea. It was well over midnight and there he was standing in the living room doorway. “I’m just gonna go to sleep,” he tried and turned to continue up the stairs. 
   “Don’t hide, Colin.”
   Colin stopped. 
   “It doesn’t help anybody. Not you, not your family, and especially not your… lover.”
   Colin turned. 
   “I suppose I could have had this talk with you a long time ago but I was always waiting for you to give me a reason to and it just never happened.”
   “I’m sorry.”
   “Your mother told me.”
   Colin turned red.
   “She reckoned that you were going to continue being your little self and so she’d better tell me.”
   “I’m not little,” Colin protested. 
   “Maybe not, but you’ve never been exactly brave, have you?”
   Colin whipped his head backwards. “I don’t know what you mean.” It felt stupid now when he’d decided to quit wearing the wig but he didn’t seem to be able to stop doing it.
   His father laughed. “If you say so. The point is, I already knew.”
   Colin swallowed. 
   “I saw you when you were doing that interview in the community centre. I can’t say that I understand any of that whole metal thing but I could tell you felt good. It warms a fathers heart, you know. I think your mother probably gave up hope for grandchildren years ago but you might have told her she was going to have a son-in-law of sorts.”
   Colin muttered something he himself didn’t even hear. 
   “I went to his shop.”
   “What?” Colin half wailed.
   “I was gonna talk to him,” his father continued. “You know, see what kind of person he was, maybe even tell him I wasn’t going to come after him with a shotgun,” he chuckled a little.
   Colin felt the blood drain from his face. 
   “Turns out someone burned his shop down after beating him half to death.”
   Colin clenched his jaw and bit his thumbnail. The tears were coming and he didn’t know if he’d have the strength to keep them back.
   “And you weren’t even going to tell us, Colin?”
   “I didn’t think you’d care,” Colin muttered staring at his shoes.
   “Why would you think that?” 
   “I don’t know.”
   “Think about it. Imagine if your mother had an accident and was lying in the hospital and the doctors would tell me that they didn’t know if she was going to make it. And then I wouldn’t tell you about it. How do you think that would make you feel?”
   Colin collapsed down onto the stairs, hiding his face in his hands. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I was so afraid you would be angry.” His voice cracked. 
   “Why would I be angry that you found someone to share your life with?” 
   Colin didn’t reply. His vocal chords failed him. 
   “Did we get angry when you didn’t do well at school when you were a kid? Or when we had to plead for you to take the perfectly good well paying job that your uncle offered you at the bank? Or when you were going to throw it all away for that metal stuff? Or when you flunked out of uni the first time? Or when we realised that you were probably going to sit in that same room of yours with the same junk until it was time for you to take over this house from us? Or when you went back to uni and failed every single exam? And then you go and nearly get yourself killed and you still go chasing after the metal with people who don’t even appreciate you? Did we get angry at you then?” 
   With every word Colin sank deeper into himself. In his head his mother had always been angry at him, scolding him for this and that, and his father too, but now he realised it had not been disappointment or judgement that drove their words but encouragement and their wish to direct him onto a good path. He recalled the speech he’d gotten when he said he was going to quit the job at the bank to do the metal full time with Bad News and it sounded so different in his head now when he contemplated the words that his mother had spoken in a new light. He also realised that even though he could tell that some times her disapproval of the metal stuff shone through in her demeanour she had never once said a bad word about any of the others, not even Vim, even though she’d been at the receiving end of his outbursts at least twice. Nor did she ever tell him not to listen to the music that he liked. She had even on occasion encouraged him. “Go play some music,” she’d say. “You’ll feel better after, dear.” He looked up.
   Colins father walked over to his son and kneeled on the step below him. “We have supported you every step you have taken since you could walk and every misstep, you lughead,” he said and patted his son on the cheek with fatherly decisiveness. “Why would we suddenly stop now?”
   “Dunno,” Colin croaked. “At some point enough is enough.”
   Colins father chuckled as he rose. “Perhaps,” he said. “But we can’t walk away from the responsibility we took on when we became your parents.” He turned to walk away but then stopped and turned back. “Any more than you could walk away from him.”
   Colin opened his mouth to say something but his father had disappeared into the darkness of the unlit ground floor. He rose with difficulty and lumbered up to his room. 
   When he sat down on his bed he could feel how exhausted he was. What was more, as he started taking off his clothes he could smell the alcohol and the smoke from the fire. He even realised that the back of his leather jacket was singed. Surely his father would have smelled those too. And yet, he said nothing. 
   As he rolled up in the covers he wondered why his father said nothing about the way he looked. He’d tried his best to not look in the mirror but even though he’d washed the paint off at the hospital he was sure he looked like shit. And smelled like shit too. Altairs face flashed back into his head saying the same thing he’d said about his mother and he got a little chuckle out of imagining his father having some kind of sordid secret past, just like his mother. Maybe that’s why he’d forgiven her the fling. 
   “Oh, god…” he mumbled into his pillow as his brain and his stomach did a synchronized summersault. It took him two moments to breathe through it and then he was out like a light. 

Chapter Text

   For a moment Altair felt like he was breaching the surface of cold water and he gasped for air. Then everything was dark and silent for a little bit before he realised that there were sounds around him, strange muted sounds. He tried to open his eyes but only one of them would open. He tried to move but he felt like he was restrained. Little by little the events leading up to that moment came back to him. He wasn’t sure if he should cry or laugh and after contemplating it carefully in the dark he came to the conclusion that he was sort of neither sad that he wasn’t dead nor glad that he was alive but mostly intrigued by this deranged person that had come to his home and tried to kill him. And over what? That was the question, wasn’t it? Over what? Deep in his mind he had an idea.

  Days passed and when they realised Altair was conscious Colin, nurses, doctors and police tried to get him to say who it was that had attacked him. He always gave the same reply, “Can’t remember. It all happened so fast.” Pretty much everyone knew that he was lying but nobody managed to change his mind. Even Colin who swung from pleading to threatening to begging to trying to bluff within minutes didn’t manage to sway him. He would not say.

   When Altair had been conscious around twelve days he awoke late night and became aware that there was someone in there with him. Someone who had snuck into the unlit room unnoticed. He smiled. “You all right, Den?”
   “So so,” came the reply from the corner of the small room.
   “Come to finish me off?”
   “No.”
   “Why not? I wouldn’t have taken you for someone who walks away from a half finished job.”
   “Well, that’s the thing, see,” Den said. “The job is done. I have nobody but myself to blame for the fact that you actually lived.”
   “I see.” 
   “I guess I underestimated how much you can take.” Den sounded half disappointed and half impressed. 
   “Well, I might have had practice.”
   Den grinned. “Which one do you think helped you more?”
   “What do you mean?”
   “God or Satan?”
   “A little bit of both, I should imagine,” Altair replied with a smile.
   “Both?” Den was genuinely surprised. Usually people revered one and reviled the other. 
   “Oh, they help each other out more than you would think. God threw Lucifer out on a matter of principle but old ties are not so easily broken.” 
   “So you really believe in all that God shit?”
   “With every fibre of my soul.”
   “When I set the garbage in your shop on fire did you believe you were going to Heaven?”
   “I’m not sure I even thought about that,” Altair replied. “But I don’t remember.”
   “I think you’ll go to Hell,” Den sneered.
   “Maybe so. Maybe I’ve misunderstood everything God has tried to tell me since the day I was born. But I have lived the best I believed I could and the sacrifices I have made will count for something. If not on Gods scales towards absolving my soul then certainly on the Devils tally for keeping the human realm chaotic. I’m sure he’ll cut me a little slack.”
   “People are just people,” Den said, sounding almost pleading.
   “Yes. They stumble around blindly, trying to connect with something. And some times people take it on themselves to become monsters just so that the words of those they admire the most won’t become lies.”
   Den growled. 
   “I thought about this for so long,” Altair continued. “Why you? Why wouldn’t Vim just do it himself? And then it struck me, Vim wouldn’t do it himself because Vim wouldn’t hurt a fly. It never even occurred to him cause he’s all mouth. He flies off the handle and talks a lot of shit and then it’s all over. Meanwhile you have been slowly cooking away for years now I’m assuming. And that incident in the interview when Colin brought me along broke you. Isn’t that just my luck.” He chuckled. 
   “That’s a nice… theory,” Den said. 
   “Oh, I am no stranger to burying all the shit inside until it feels like it’s going to burst through your eyeballs,” Altair replied. “And she was there, the media girl. She would tell them that Vim threatened to kill me.”
   “She did but he had an alibi.”
   “I see. So then what? You are going to live with that? That everybody will think Vim did it because he said he was going to? That people are going to look at him and think he’s a horrible person for the rest of his life just because he lost his temper in an interview and it hurt your soul to know he wasn’t going to do it, Den?”
   “Are you trying to make me rip out your stupid fucking throat?”
   “Maybe. I was prepared to die. A part of me longs for it constantly. But then again, that part of me has been praying for death since I was a child. He’s probably not going to get his wish until I crumble into ancient dust.”
   “I could end you now.”
   Altair chuckled. “You won’t. That shot of certainty you thought was your righteous will has dissolved into a caustic mess and is eating at your insides now. I could see it already when you came to my home. The resolve was fading and you saw the face of the Devil mocking you for taking the bait.”
   “You’re mad.”
   “I’m mad, Den? You were prepared to kill a man for empty words spoken in anger. You were going to be the Judas to your Messiah, weren’t you, Den? To bring about the prophecy and raise your idol to the heights.”
   Den chortled. Then there was silence. 
   For a long time neither of them moved nor said a word but stared into the air, their minds working through the twists and turns of each others psyche and their own resolve. They were dark and dank tunnels in dungeons deep under the earth, tangled thickets of gnarled branches rising to the sky, rancid swamps stinking from the rotten carcasses sunk beneath their red waters. They didn’t speak but could almost feel each other in the air and they saw the the threads that bound them together. 
   Suddenly Den sighed heavily and disappeared back out into the night leaving Altair alone in the dark to contemplate their conversation. He didn’t know how this would go but he was certain he had nothing to fear from Den any more. Whatever psychosis it was that had driven him to attack him had mutated now and he had no more drive. The moment was gone and he’d blown it. 
   Altair chuckled when he thought about telling Colin what he was thinking. That he hoped that Den would be all right and that he’d find his way out of this mess he’d gotten himself into. Colin would be sure to snap. So he wouldn’t tell him. Whatever happened he would keep that to himself. His spirit sank again when he thought about all the other things that he didn’t tell Colin. All the dark thoughts that haunted him at night when he was alone. There were many who would argue that he had nobody to blame for that but himself, messing with stuff that he shouldn’t, doing despicable things. Funnily enough, thinking about the despicable things made him feel better. He did hope he would get to do despicable things to Colin again. Since he was alive and all that. 
   The silence was broken by someone crying. Altair couldn’t tell if it was in the hallway or a room next to him. Maybe someone had died. He closed his eyes and imagined that he had his rosary, his fingers going through the movements and his mind repeating the mantras. He prayed for whomever it was who cried and the one they cried for to have a safe journey to the afterlife. His mind settled into the repeating of the prayers, it stilled his heart and his soul, and soon he was asleep. 

Chapter Text

   There was a furore at the police station when Den waltzed in, brash as anything, bloodied steel pipe in hand and demanded to see someone in charge cause he would like to admit to a crime. 
   One of the policemen eyed Den suspiciously. “What kind of crime?”
   Den held up the  steel pipe. “Murder.” The pipe sank. “Well, attempted murder, the fucker survived.”
   The policeman turned. “Somerson!” he shouted. 
   “What?!” Came the reply form further within the police station. 
   “I think this one’s for you!”
   Somerson came to the front. “What’s going on?”
   The policeman smirked and pointed at Den. “You like these lunatics. You can have this one.”
   Somerson shook his head. “All right, fine. Take the fucking pipe off him though.”
   Another policeman brought a plastic bag and had Den put the pipe in it. 
   “Take good care of that,” Den said as the policeman closed the bag. “That’s evidence.”
   The policemen stared as Somerson led Den into an interrogation room. 
   “All right,” Somerson said as he sat down opposite Den.  “What is your problem?”
   “I already told the constable outside, I want to confess to a crime.”
   “A crime you actually committed?”
   “Of course!” Den was genuinely offended. “Why would I confess to a crime I haven’t committed? Does anybody do that?” 
   Somerson sighed. “You’d be surprised.”
   “Well, I did.”
   “Okay, and what was it that you did?”
   “I tried to kill someone.”
   “I see. And who would that be?”
   “His name is Altair. He’s an occultist or some fucking thing. I don’t remember what Colin said. The bottom line is that I tried to do away with the bastard and he survived.”
   Somerson was speechless for a moment as he took in the information. He remembered the creep trying to tell him that someone was threatening him because of his friend but he knew Colin and there was no way those two were just friends. Why Trevor hadn’t kicked that no good freak out of his house a long time ago he would never understand. 
   “And I know you’re thinking why confess? And quite frankly I can’t tell you,” Den continued. “Maybe it’s Jesus or something.”
   Somerson chuckled. He leaned in towards Den. “I think Jesus would have told you to have another bloody good go at snuffing the life out of that faggot,” he said quietly. “Slowly.”

   For the second time in not many minutes Den caused an uproar in the police station, this time barging out of the interrogation room, dragging behind him a stunned and bloodied Somerson, shouting “If I could talk to someone who isn’t a fucking cunt that would be very nice!” Five minutes later Den was in lock up with two assaults on his rep and Somerson was on his way to a hospital with a broken nose and a fractured jaw. 
   Later when Den had calmed down enough for interrogation and was asked why he had punched Somerson he refused to give anything away except “Just because I tried to murder the bastard doesn’t mean I think he’s an evil person.”
   “So why did you?” the lieutenant who had taken over from Somerson asked. 
   “None of your business.”
   “Listen, you can’t just claim to have tried to kill someone without any motive. It doesn’t make us very inclined to believe you.”
   “Well why don’t you ask him then.”
   “Who?”
   “Altair.”
   The lieutenant chuckled. “I spoke to someone about this. Apparently they tried for like two weeks to get him to say but he refused.” He leaned onto the table towards Den. “For all I know the two of you are in this together and trying to cover up for something bigger that we’re not catching on to.” He leaned back into his chair. “But we sure as shit are going to look for it if you don’t alt least give us some kind of reason.”
   Den thought back to his conversation with Altair in the dark hospital room. That man had no fear. It would be nice to have that kind of conviction. What was it that he had said? Den grinned. “I wanted to be the Judas to my messiah and bring about the prophecy as it was spoken. That is all I am going to say.”
   The lieutenant sighed. “Fine,” he said as he got up and left.
   “Anything?” a colleague of his asked as he came out of the room. 
   The lieutenant shook his head. “We’re gonna need a psych evaluation.”

   Not so long after Den contemplated the exorcists conviction at the police station it wavered. Standing in front of the shop, the door crooked in its frame, Altair stopped. Something didn’t feel right. So many times before he’d taken a deep breath and dug his heels in. This time he didn’t feel like he had any breath left. 
   He had left the hospital without telling anyone. The doctor had said he didn’t recommend it but there was no imminent danger in it. There were no signs of any permanent damage. Apart from the scars. He said he didn’t mind the scars. They made a nice change from the ones that nobody could see and would never heal. He’d felt confident when he’d said it then. Now not so much. 
   He stepped through the doorway and something cracked under his foot. He looked down and saw a tangle of talismans lying there. From them his eyes travelled along the floor, from wreckage and scattered objects to shattered remains of statues and religious paraphernalia.
   He took two more steps, trying to get across the floor through the shop to his home on the other side. Again there was a crunch and it felt like his heart had cracked in two. Everything was either broken, burnt or soaked with water. It had finally happened, everything he had quietly tried to gather for himself to survive had been destroyed. 
   He managed three more steps before the tears started running down his face. Decades of guilt and doubt came crashing down on him as if this whole time they had been quiet termites eating away every single foundation of his being. His vision became blurry and he felt faint but he managed to get to the doorway to the flat. The curtain that had hung there was half burnt but the door had survived and the fire hadn’t gone far into the kitchen. 
   He closed the door to the shop carefully, as if he might awaken the fire again, the click of the lock taking hold triggered something in his mind and he lost all power. He leaned back against the door to stay upright but it wasn’t enough as his legs gave way. Slowly he sank down to the floor, the ache taking hold of his whole body, and he ended up crouched on the floor shaking with the sobbing. Before he had found defiance to live, now he only wished he could die.

Chapter Text

   After having great difficulty with himself trying not to suffocate Altair with his constant presence, a very strange phone conversation with Sally about Den and discovering that Altair had left the hospital without letting him know Colin almost broke down the door when he entered the small shop. The front had been fixed up mostly and the door managed to stay shut and locked but the inside of the small shop was still a scorched mess. 
   “Alt!” Colin shouted into the space he thought was empty but as soon as the sound died out he saw him standing there where the table would have been, just like the first time he ever saw him. And same as usual he seemed to materialize out of thin air. 
   The difference was that this time his occult loot and Catholic dragons hoard was scattered, burnt and broken and he looked so much older. There was more grey in his hair and he had two scars in his face. One going from his left eyebrow, down across his nose and under his right eye and the other down his right temple and onto his cheek bone. 
   Colin felt like his chest would freeze. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I didn’t see you.”
   Altair chuckled. “I’m not surprised. I feel like the darkness wants to swallow me even more than usual.”
   “Why didn’t you tell me you were going home yesterday? I would have come with you.”
   “Consider yourself lucky. At least you didn’t have to see me crying like a baby.”
   “What?”
   Altair shook his head. “Doesn’t matter. What brings you to the ashes of Hell?”
   “What do you mean? I came to see you. To make sure that you’re okay. To tell you…” Colin wasn’t sure what exactly he wanted to say.
   “To tell me what?”
   Colin shrugged. “I don’t know. That when the doctors said you might not make it I was certain that I would die too. Maybe I wanted to ask you if you knew why Den turned himself in. Or maybe I should tell you that my parents have pretty much assigned you the status of son-in-law.”
   Altair laughed. “Are you serious?”
   “Yup. I found my mother in the living room last night reading pamphlets about Catholicism. I asked her what she was doing and she said she didn’t want to say anything stupid next time you came over for supper. And she keeps asking how you’re doing.”
   “That’s nice to know.”
   “So will you?”
   “What?”
   “Come over for supper?”
   Altair shook his head. “No.”
   Colin sank. “Why not?”
   “Many reasons.”
   “Such as?” Colin felt like Altair was trying to to be contrary just for the sake of it.
   “Well, for a start if we assumed before that the only three suspects in the phone calls were your bandmates, which one would you have pointed at as the most likely?”
   “I don’t know,” Colin replied. “Vim? He did threaten to kill you.”
   “Yeah, and who would you have chosen as the least likely?”
   Colin clenched his jaw. “Den.”
   “And who did it turn out to be?”
   Colin didn’t reply.
   “I really did pray that whoever it was who made the calls wouldn’t do it. That it was just some little spineless shit trying to feel big.” Altair sat down in a folding chair he’d brought from somewhere. “Then when he was actually standing there with the pipe in his hand and I prayed that he would just kill me quickly.” He ran his hand through his hair. “And then I woke up in the hospital and I was glad that I got a second chance. I was so happy that I would get to see you again and that I could go back to doing what I was called to do.” He looked around the devastation. “And then night came and I didn’t sleep at all, there was so much chaos in my head.” He got up again and paced a little as if the words had stirred his mind up and then he stopped and looked at Colin. “Now I’m just scared. What if I go to your house and a neighbour decides to call the police making up some nonsense? What if it spreads and somebody decides to go after your parents? What if somebody hurts you? Before it was all directed towards me. Just me. This time I’d be dragging other people down with me. I can’t face that.” 
   “Are you doubting?”
   Altair smiled. “Yes, I am, Colin Grigson. I am doubting everything. To say that I’m shaken in my faith is putting it mildly.”
   “Welcome to the club,” Colin replied, flicking his head back. 
   Altair chuckled. “I guess, but part of me is angry at you because you never had anything to lose.”
   Colin opened his mouth but Altair continued.
   “Don’t get me wrong, I do see that you have things that you care about, things that drive you. You have your parents still and metal, and your job even is security to you.” Altair turned away. 
   “But what?”
   “Even if you lost all that,” Altair said without turning around. “Like, if something took all of that away from you in a single day. You still wouldn’t feel like you’ve been wrong about everything ever. Like you’ve just been too fucking stupid to see that everybody else was right and you were the only one who was going the wrong way.”
   “I feel like that every day.”
   Altair turned. “How?”
   “I’m not supposed to do metal. I’m a fucking posh git who lives in a suburb and works in a bank. Do you know how I joined the band?”
   Altair shook his head. 
   “They had a test. To join you had to drink half a bottle of vodka and keep it down. I didn’t learn the first time I tried, or the second, or the third or even the fourth. Took me six tries. When they finally accepted that I was in the band they just handed me the bass cause they needed a bass player. I didn’t even know which way around it was supposed to be.” He chuckled. “And then Vim threw a shit fit when he found out I was left handed. Said it spoiled the visual, or some nonsense like that. Apparently Spider convinced him otherwise later. I have no idea what he said.”
   “Why did you do it then?”
   “Because I knew in my heart, with all my soul, that it was what I wanted to do, what I needed to do. I heard it at school and it just…” He gestured into the air trying to find the right words. “Filled up all the empty space inside me and I grabbed it so hard and held onto it with everything I had.” He looked at the ground and then back up at Altair. “And everybody kept telling me I was wrong but I believe that I am metal enough. But if I did start believing those people I would feel like that.”
   “I see.” Altair sighed. 
   There was silence for a little while. Neither of them knew how to rectify this mess. The connection that had seemed so strong was definitely still there but it had changed, faded. Was it all just horn then? Would they have to start at the beginning again?
   “May I have a glass of water?” Colin asked. 
   Altair smiled. “Certainly.”
   They had just entered the small kitchen when the door of the shop opened behind them. 
   “Hello?” Came a voice from the shop
   Altair stared at the door to the shop standing half open in front of him. “I can’t do it,” he said. “The thought of it terrifies me.”
   “Colin?” It was a womans voice.
   Altair looked at Colin who hesitated for a moment and then stepped through the door and into the shop. When he got there he was surprised to stand face to face with his mother. 
   “There you are, dear,” she said. “We were worried about you, both of you.”
   Colin rolled his eyes. “We’re fine.”
   “Are you?”
   Colins façade fell and he shook his head. “No, not really.”
   “Is he here?”
   Colin nodded. 
   “I would like to see him if he cares to.”
   “I’ll ask…” Colin started as he turned and then he saw Altair appear in the doorway. 
   “Oh, goodness,” Colins mother gasped as she saw Altair appear, his injuries dark and ominous in the dim light of the shop. “How awful.” She walked up to him and laid her hand on his cheek. “How could anyone do such a horrid thing to such a kind person.”
   Colin stared in disbelief as Altair kneeled in front of his mother. What the hell was happening?
   Altair took her hand in his and kissed it like she was the pope. “Thank you,” he said, his head bowed. “There is no benefaction like a mothers blessing”
   Colin wasn’t sure but he thought he saw his mother blush a little. 
   “Oh, shush,” she said as she pulled her hand away and faffed with her handbag. “I’m just glad to know you’re safe.” Then she turned back to Colin. “Will you be back for supper?”
   “Uh, ahm, I don’t know.”
   “Oh, well, we’ll see.”
   “Mum?” Colin said as his mother turned to leave. 
   She turned back. “Yes, dear?”
   “Would you mind at all if I stayed here?”
   “How long?”
   Colin shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe forever.” 
   His mother smiled. “I’d say it’s about bloody time, dear.”
   It took Colin a moment but hearing Altair snorting behind him he realised what his mother had said. He didn’t get any chance to retort though because his mother had disappeared out the door. Then something occurred to him and he turned to Altair. “I’m sorry, I didn’t ask.”
   “I don’t think you should ask,” Altair replied with a slight smile.
   “What do you mean?”
   “I’ll only say no.”
   “So you don’t want me to stay?”
   “I do, but I’d still say no.”
   “Well,” Colin said as he strode to the shop door. He meant to lock it quickly but it was still janky and it took him a bit of effort. He turned, slightly deflated. “Well,” he started again. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily.” As he met Altairs undecipherable gaze he shrank even further. “I’m gonna…” He stopped when Altair came walking towards him and a flutter of something went through his stomach. He was fairly sure that it wasn’t fear but it was something. 
   Altair walked right up to Colin, laid his head on his shoulder and wrapped his arms around him. 
   Colin didn’t realise what was happening for a second but then he clasped Altair to him like he would never let go and nuzzled his face into his hair. He smelled of sweat and burnt wood. 
   “I know your mother thinks that I’m gonna look after you and be support for you,” Altair said. “But the truth of the matter is that you are going to have to look after me.”
   “Forever,” Colin replied.
   “I don’t even know if you can take care of yourself either. It’s gonna end in disaster.”
   “It already ended in disaster. Twice.” 
   Altair chuckled. 
   With Altair so close like that Colin felt like his mirth was swept right into his veins and he squeezed him even tighter. 
   “I want to say ‘thank you’ but it feels so inadequate,” Altair sighed. 
   “You don’t have to say anything,” Colin replied. “If you never spoke another word ever again I would still stay.”
   Altair contemplated this. It sounded ideal, to never have to worry about saying the wrong thing for a start. He knew he’d never manage it. Even when alone he felt the need to talk. That would never go away. But at that moment there was nothing that needed saying. If he was right about what disasters Colin was referring to this was a new start. Again. And that, too, felt right. Maybe this was the fate of their relationship, to crash and crumble and quiver with its final heart beats only to rise again from the ashes like a phoenix, maybe a little stronger than before. It sounded a bit dramatic but then again, neither of them could exactly be described as down to earth, perhaps it was meant to be like that. 
   Colin didn’t think at all. He inhaled the feeling of Altair so close to him and exhaled every ache in his heart. Little by little his body began to ache but it was a different ache, a want, a need to be even closer. But he stood still and held him. He would stay for as long as he needed. 
   And even as night fell upon the world outside they were still locked in each others arms. This day it was all that they could ever want. 

Chapter Text

   Mrs. Grigson was quite surprised when late Thursday evening the doorbell rang. For a moment she contemplated ignoring it but decided that the politeness level of the request at the door was sufficient to grant it attention. 
   She was doubly surprised when she saw that the people standing outside were Vim looking decidedly sheepish and a slightly less awkward girl attached to his arm. 
   “Ahm, evening, mrs. Grigson, I’m Vim. I’m on the band with, ahm, Colin. Hope that, ahm, I’m not disturbing you,” Vim stammered. “Is he home? Like, I would have come by eariler but, ahm, ahm…” He realised last second that it was probably not smart to tell the person you were trying to be polite to that you didn’t really want to be seen in the neighbourhood. 
   “I know who you are, Alan Weitz,” Mrs. Grigson replied completely deadpan. 
   Sally smirked. 
   “And Colin is not home,” Mrs. Grigson added. 
   Sally squeezed Vims arm to signal to him to keep quiet. “If he doesn’t want to talk to Alan maybe you can try tell him Sally wants to see him. Like, we’re really sorry, we just want to talk.”
   A slight smile graced Mrs. Grigsons lips before she replied. “I appreciate it, but Colin really isn’t home.”
   “Oh,” Vim said. “Do you know where he is?”
   “I do,” mrs. Grigson replied. 
   “Is it a secret or something?” Vim asked, getting slightly annoyed. 
   Sally squeezed Vims arm again. 
   “No,” mrs. Grigson repled, completely unfazed. “But if I am perfectly honest, mr. Weitz, my Colin has been through enough and I would prefer to protect his peace.”
   “But…” Vim tried. 
   Mrs. Grigson sighed. It was the kind of exasperated but kindly sigh one would hear from a teacher dealing with a particularly obtuse child. “If it is yours to know, you already know, dear,” she said. “Have a nice night.” She gave Sally a little nod. “The both of you.”
   Vim watched the door close quite politely but firmly before him. “Damn.” He turned away and started walking towards his car. He sighed.
   “You okay?” Sally asked. 
   “Yeah, just…” He sighed again. “I don’t know. Just wondering how the hell Colin is such a fucking pussy when even his mom is just, like, ice cold.”
   Sally chuckled. “That sure is a mystery.”
   “And we still don’t know where he is.”
   “Really?”
   Vim stopped and looked at Sally. “What do you mean?” 
   “What did his mom say, Vim?”
   “That he’s not home and she’s not telling us where he is?”
   Sally laughed and shook her head. “I swear, Vim. Some times I wonder how you survive.”
   “What do you mean?” Vim was fast approaching sulk mode. 
   “She said we already know.”
   “How would we already know?! She didn’t tell us anything.”
   Sally took Vims hands in hers. “Now pay attention.”
   “Okay,” Vim half whimpered. 
   “What started all the mess with Den?”
   “The occultist guy?” Vim tried. 
   “Exactly,” Sally replied and squeezed Vims hands for encouragement. “Now we had an idea why Colin was dragging the occultist guy around, didn’t we?”
   Vim nodded. “Yeah….”
   “So if Colin is not hiding in the safety of his mothers castle where would he be?”
   Vim thought for a couple of moments. “At the occultists place?”
   “Exactly!” Sally gave Vim her best smile. 
   “Yeah, that makes sense.”
   “It makes perfect sense, Vim, but we’re going tomorrow. It’s already late now.”
   Vim nodded and got into the car. He wasn’t quite sure what he’d just agreed to but Sally was happy. That was all that mattered.

   Colin had almost forgotten about Bad News. He spent his time either at the bank or helping Altair fix his shop up and talking to the people that came to enquire. He did put on jeans or leather pants and band t-shirt and even a little bit of make up when he finished work but he didn’t think about that other stuff that used to come with it. Not a lot in any case.
   The first couple of days Colin had not had any luck convincing Altair to even go into the shop, but when five people had enquired about him and if he’d be back to help them he ventured out into the dishevelled space. A few more days passed as they slowly worked their way through it all, sifting apart the things that could be salvaged and those that were ruined. 
   When the door of the shop opened Colin turned towards it ready with the little speech he had ready when Altair wasn’t with him and somebody came to ask for him but it got stuck in his throat when he saw Vim and Sally standing there. 
   “Hey, Colin,” Sally said cheerfully. “How are you doing?”
   Colin shrugged and threw his head back. “Fine.”
   “You know,” Vim said, completely ignoring the fact that he hadn’t spoken to Colin in days and that their last meeting had not exactly ended well. “We could have a show in here. It would be epic.”
   “What, just three of us?”
   “Yeah, one guitarist is plenty,” Vim said with a grin.
   “You think anyone would show up?”
   “Loads,” Vim said. “We’re more famous than ever. Den saw to that.”
   “Infamous, more like,” Colin said and snorted.
   “It’s all the same in metal,” Sally said. 
   Colin nodded. “True that.”
   “Just so you know, Colin,” Vim said and pointed at Colin. “I still think you’re a prick.”
   “Yeah, well, you’re a piece of shit cunt.” Colin turned around to see Altair standing by the door to the kitchen and felt like he’d just been caught disobeying his mother. 
   “Look, man…” Vim started but stopped. He didn’t really know what he could say to make this better. Words always tripped him up. 
   Altair shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. I know you didn’t mean it. Maybe if you would have been a little bit more drunk you might have tried something but most of your bravado is just for show.”
   Sally chuckled. 
   Vim shuffled awkwardly until Sally gave him a little nudge. “Anyway, we want you to play with us, Colin.”
   “I don’t know, Vim,” Colin replied. “I was pretty sure you done it.”
   “He was with me when it happened, Colin,” Sally said. “I wouldn’t lie about that. If he’d done it I would have killed him myself.”
   Vim perked up. “Yeah, man, she would, she’s insane!”
   Sally poked Vim in the ribs. “And you!”
   Colin smiled a little but wasn’t quite ready to let Vim off the hook. “You could have told Den to do it.”
   Vim didn’t know what to say to that. He could deny it all he wanted but if Colin wasn’t going to believe him no matter what it was hardly any use to say anything. 
   “I don’t think he did.”
   Everybody looked at Altair. 
   “Why do you say that?” Colin asked. 
   “The spirits told me so.” 
   Everyone stared at Altairs blank expression wondering if he was being serious or not but none of them could make it out.
   “They also told me that congratulations are in order,” Altair added and a small grin crept across his lips. 
   Colin looked at Vim and Sally who blushed slightly. Vim tried to hide his hand but Sally grabbed it. 
   “Did you ask?” Altair directed his question at Sally.
   “I did,” Sally replied and laughed. 
   “Okay, okay,” Vim said, his patience wearing thin. “That’s enough having a good laugh at my expense. Are you going to play with us or not, Colin?”
   Colin sighed. 
   “We have open slots for shows if we want them,” Sally said. “I talked to some people who owe me favours. They’ve struck the record off the table for now but you could play some music, you know, get back out there. Make a little bit of money.”
   Colin had to admit that he wanted to play again but something was chewing at his resolve. “Sure, I guess, yeah, yeah, I’ll play.” He glanced over at Altair but couldn’t see any reaction.
   “Great,” Vim replied. “Do you play anything?” he asked Altair. 
   Altair chuckled and shook his head. “No, I don’t. I’ve hardly ever listened to music in my life. Except for hymns at church.”
   Vim stared. “How is that even possible?”
   “Quite easily it seems,” Altair replied. “I’ve not been particularly avoiding it.”
   “Well, you’ll come see us play then?”
   Altair smiled. “I might. After all, if we’re going to make this work I’m going to have to at least know what all this fuss is about.”
   “It’s fucking life, man,” Vim said. “It’s the fucking life.”

   When Vim and Sally had left Colin and Altair went back to clearing up. After a little while Altair stopped and watched Colin for a bit. “Hey, Colin.”
   “Mm?” Colin replied without turning.
   “Why were you so reluctant to say ‘yes’ to Vim when he told you he wanted to keep going with your band?”
   Colin turned. “I don’t know really.”
   “Is it because he said he was going to kill me?” 
   “No, it’s not that. I just…” Colin shrugged. “Don’t need it.” He felt a pang of fear in his stomach when Altairs face went dark. 
   “After that whole speech you did about metal meaning all that to you, you’re just gonna quit?” 
   “I don’t know,” Colin half whimpered. “I just…”
   “How do you feel, right now?” Altair demanded. 
   “Happy.” 
   “Are you sure? You haven’t said anything about anything for days, you just work.” 
   “Don’t know.” Colins gaze fell to the floor. “Maybe I thought you’d like it if I quit the band.” 
   “Why would you think that? That whole spiel, was it all a lie?” 
   Colin looked up again. “No!” 
   “Then what? Why are you being like this? I don’t understand.” 
   “I thought…” Colins voice trailed off.
   “What?” 
   “Some times all your religion stuff is annoying so I thought that you must find my metal stuff annoying.” 
   “Well, it is, but so what? You’re just going to quit?” 
   “Maybe.” 
   “Are you going to ask me to give up my God?” 
   “NO!” 
   “Why not?” 
   “Because that’s not fair. Mine is just stupid. I can give it up. For you.” 
   “That’s not how this is supposed to fucking work, Colin! I may not know much about relationships but I fucking know that much! If you feel that way I’m doing it wrong and you might as well…” Altair didn’t finish the sentence. 
   “Might as well what?” 
   “Leave,” Altair said quietly. 
   “You want me to leave?” Colins voice quivered. 
   “No, I don’t want you to leave. Having you near me when you’re not working is doing wonders for my sanity, and my health. And I want you to stay. Forever.”
   “But?”
   “But if you can’t see how much it means to me that you’re happy or even admit to yourself that you’re not then we are both better off somewhere else.”
   “But I’m with you! I am happy.”
   “Are you?”
   “Yes!”
   “I don’t think you are.”
   “Well, prove it then!” Colin snapped and threw his head back. 
   “All right. What if I told you that I only want you to wear the bankers clothes in my house. No leather, no band t-shirts, no make up and definitely no high heeled boots or animal print leggings. I want you to burn it all. Also, no posters and shit and no records. Don’t want to see a single one in here or so much as hear you hum a metal song. Then what?”
   With every word Colins spirit sank and he became paler and paler. 
   “Feeling happy now?”
   Colin stared. “Would you do that?”
   “Of course I wouldn’t,” Altair sighed. “That’s not the point. The point is how comfortable are you with this idea.” 
   “Not,” Colin whimpered. “Not at all.”
   “Then snipping one piece of it off, like not playing with Vim and Spider, is going to make you just as miserable. And if you are miserable, I’m gonna be miserable. Maybe not today, maybe not in two months, maybe not in four years, but it’s gonna happen.”
   “I don’t know,” Colin said quietly. “I’m scared how all of it is going to go.”
   “Do you regret Donnington?”
   Colin glanced away and his fingers automatically touched the scar on his neck. He didn’t think much about it lately. He’d even stopped hiding it now. There was no denying that the whole Donnington thing was a huge fucking disaster from beginning to end but he had to admit that thinking about it brought a surge of life to his chest. At least there was no denying that it was very very metal. He looked at Altair. “No.” He shook his head. “No, I don’t.”
   Altair smiled. “Then I dare say that you’ll survive me being pissy every now and then.” 
   “The same you survive me being annoyed at your God stuff,” Colin said, more to himself than Altair. 
   “Exactly.”
   “We will survive.” Colin nodded as if the affirmation was just then taking full hold.
   “Together,” Altair added. 
   Colin smiled. “Forever.”
   Altair chuckled. “We’re so fucking screwed.”

Chapter Text

  Days passed and Colin had to admit that going to practices with Vim and Spider made him feel better. For some strange reason he missed Den, even after everything that had happened. Especially when Vim went right back to his old ornery self and took to randomly telling Colin and Spider to shut the fuck up. As if it was a habit he couldn’t shake, even when the main reason he said it during band practices and recordings was gone. However, when he at one point thoughtlessly told Sally to shut up when she commented on what they were playing he quickly apologised. The look she gave him had threatened to melt the small rehearsal space that they had acquired. 
   Third practice Colin also realised that Vim being snappy and pissy felt comforting. He did speak more positively of Colins bass playing and the music generally and going home to Altair to vent every day also helped. Altair probable wished that he didn’t rant quite so much but he never said anything and just quietly assured him that he was listening and that he understood. 
   Little by little Colin settled into a routine, work, rehearsal, home, and since Altair insisted on keeping the store open every day, and some times late, he found himself helping people with strange things like how to decipher bible verses and what to wear so that you don’t attract demons. Some of Altairs customers didn’t approve of him and some would almost turn away if they saw him but Altair insisted that if they couldn’t trust someone he trusted then he didn’t need them and they not him. Most took this as valid and Colin did his best to help. 
   As the metal thing became more and more free within Colin another urge awoke. His mothers wish that they visit became a recurring thought. So one evening after Altair closed the shop he decided to ask. He was surprised when Altair said ‘yes’ without so much as hesitating but decided not to enquire any further. 
   When they arrived early afternoon the following day Colin felt about the same as he had when he sat at the kitchen table the day his mother found out about them waiting for Altair to come down, and the same as then Altair didn’t seem to have a single doubt or qualm about anything. It was as if he had always known these people and had simply been away for a long time. 
   They chatted for a good while about general things and events but when Colins father started talking about design and architecture Colin groaned. I’m gonna die of boredom, he thought. For around twenty minutes Altair sat patiently and listened, shooting in a question here and there, while mr. Grigson spoke highly of roman catholic structures and grand designs until Colin couldn’t stand it any more. 
   “Hey Alt, you wanna see my record collection?”
   Mr. Grigson stopped mid sentence and gave his son a look. 
   Colin thought he caught Altair smirking slightly and prepared for a speech about common courtesy from his father. 
   “Oh, of course,” his father said. “I am so sorry. I don’t often find people outside of work who are interested in my favourite subjects so I tend to ramble. Do, go,” he gestured Altair to go to Colin as he stood up. “It’s actually quite an impressive collection,” he added, giving Colin a sideways glance. 
   Colin was speechless. Usually his father would moan and gripe about him spending most of his money on records and give him endless speeches about saving up for something to invest in. 
   “I’d love to see your record collection, Colin,” Altair said as he stood up. “Didn’t get much chance to look at it closely last time I was here.” 
   Colin tried his best to keep his composure as he heard his mother snorting behind him. He decided it was best not to say anything, he was bound to only make it worse. 

   “Jeez, are you trying to kill me?” Colin sighed when he closed the door to his room behind him. 
   “What do you mean?” 
   “Don’t even try to pretend you didn’t do that on purpose.”
   “Do what?” Altair asked, his face shining with innocence. 
   “Oh, forget it.”
   Altair chuckled. As he sat down on Colins immaculately done up bed, memories of what had happened there came creeping into his mind and he felt slightly woozy. He cleared his throat. “So what about these records?”
   “Oh, that.” Colin stared at the ground. “Actually I wanted to do something else.”
   “What? Now?” Altair grinned. 
   Colin rolled his eyes. “No, not that, something else.”
   Altairs rascally smirk turned to a quizzicaly furrowed brow. “Oh?”
   “I meant to do this like at some special time, like I was gonna make something of it or something, but then I thought I didn’t really have time for that and you might not even want to play along or whatever and so I thought I’d just take the first opportunity I could get and…”
   “Colin,” Altair interrupted. “You are not making any sense.”
   “I found it again.”
   “Found what again?”
   “The thing,” Colin replied. He went into his pocket and brought something out. He held it in his closed fist for a couple of moments. “I found it when we were clearing up.” He opened his fist and showed Altair. In his palm lay the small purple amethyst. 
   “I was not expecting to see that again,” Altair said quietly. 
   “Me neither,” Colin said enthusiastically. “I was really surprised. It’s so small I thought it would have been lost in all that rubble.” He had been so excited to show the small stone to Altair but his excitement died when he saw the look on Altairs face. 
   Altair felt sick. He remembered the first time he’d seen that fucking thing in the jewellery store. How he’d hidden it in his hand the whole way home as if he was committing a sin by the mere purchase of it, the feeling of despair when he’d realised that it was pointless to have done so to begin with and the anger that followed. How it had consumed him. And then again when it had reappeared in his shop and how he’d tried to connect it to a new beginning. Now that he looked at it again all he felt was a gnawing fear that this would end the same way. It would all go to shit. He didn’t deserve any of it anyway. 
   Colin gasped when Altair let himself fall back onto the bed, his eyes closed. “Alt?”
   There was no reply. 
   Colin put the gem back in his pocket and went and knelt on the bed next to Altair. “Alt, you okay?”
   “No.”
   “What’s wrong?”
   “Everything.”
  “What do you mean? You were fine a minute ago!”
   “Yeah, well, I’m not any more.”
   “Why?!” Colin was becoming agitated. He had thought that Altair would have liked that he found the gem. That it meant something reassuring to them, not devastating. 
   Altair didn’t reply. 
   “So, what? You just gonna lie there?”
   “Yes.”
   “For how long.”
   “Forever.”
   Colin chuckled. “You can’t lie there forever, you have to get up.”
   “Everything is spinning.”
   “So what am I gonna tell my parents when dinner is ready?”
   “The same thing you told them the first time?”
   “That doesn’t work, Alt! You were just downstairs minutes ago. They’re not gonna believe you’re sick. Stop being such a fucking drama queen!”
   Altair opened his eyes and looked up at Colin. He took Colins hand and put it on his chest. “My heart is beating so fast. I’m so scared.”
   “What are you scared of? You’re at my parents’ house. There isn’t a less scary place on Earth.”
   Altair smiled a little. “You were scared last time.”
   Colin clambered off the bed and sat down on the edge of it next to Altair. “Fine, okay. Maybe they are a little bit scary but not that you should just give up.”
   Altair sat up. “I don’t know why I’m scared.”
   Colin wrapped his arms around Altair. “Is Hell scaring you?” he asked, trying to make it sound like it was all a silly joke.
   Altair chuckled and shook his head. “No, I’ve been threatened with that so much that it’s kind of lost it’s power. And I’ve tasted the flames of Hell. It wasn’t that bad, quite comforting actually. Maybe that’s it. I have resigned myself to damnation. God has given up on me.” Tears trickled down his face and he wiped them away with the sleeve of his shirt.
   “That’s nonsense,” Colin replied. “Why would he do that now?”
   “What do you mean?”
   “Why would he put you through all this shit to give up on you now? Why didn’t he do it when you were a kid and realised that you were different? Why didn’t he do it when you ran off to some weird ass Asian country to study forbidden things? Why didn’t he do it when you rebelled against your own church? Why now? It’s not like he can just walk away from being your saviour or some shit!”
   Altair smiled a little. “I don’t know. All I know is that I doubt everything, nothing seems real any more. Downstairs, earlier, when I was chatting with your dad I was fine, it was all fine. But the moment I start thinking about… anything it starts again.”
   Colins heart sank. “Do you doubt…” he couldn’t say the words but he pulled away a little.
   Altair leaned into Colin. “No, I do not doubt that.”
   Colin had to take a deep breath. “Then you just have to listen to me, Alt,” he said as he grabbed Altairs shoulders and shook him a little. “I’m the path of God, remember?” He tried to smile though all he wanted to to was to bawl like a baby. “Do you not trust me?”
   Altair smiled. “I do.”
   “Then I swear to you we will fix your shop. If I have to scour every car boot and garage sale and garden shed and junk yard and antique shop in the whole of the British Isles to find something to replace what you’ve lost then I will do it.”
   Altair chuckled. “You’re insane.”
   “No, I’m not insane,” Colin replied. “I just…” his gaze fell. “I love you.”
   Altair grinned. “It’s the same fucking thing, Colin.”
   Suddenly Colins face lit up. “And you go to your secret room, right? That always helps, right?”
   Altairs grin faded away. “To tell you the truth I haven’t been there for a long time. Not since after the interview, I think.”
   “Why not? You said it was your sacred place? Why did you not go there when you needed it the most? Are you dumb or something?” 
   “I didn’t feel worthy.”
   “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard!” 
   Altair smiled weakly. “I never claimed to be smart. I talk a lot and I have some intuition so I very often I know what people want to hear but that doesn’t mean I’ve got more than two braincells to rub together.” He chuckled. “And I just realised now when I say it that I was angry at you for trying to give up something that was important to you for me and then I’ve done the exact same thing.”
   “You didn’t go because of me?”
   “Well, I didn’t tell myself that you caused my absence from there but the things that happened because of you made me turn on myself and decide that I shouldn’t do it any more.”
   “And what? Your think the things in there are going to fucking care what you’ve done? Things don’t have opinions, man,” Colin said. “And things don’t change.” He gestured around himself. “Look around this place! I’ve had some of these posters since I was a kid and I still like them so they are still here. And they won’t go anywhere. They won’t suddenly look at me one day and say ‘well, you’ve fucked up now haven’t you? You better stay away from your room forever!’” He pointed at a large poster of Judas Priest. “No, they won’t! They’ll just say ‘Look at me! I’m fucking awesome, just like you!’ and you’ll feel better because you know that it’s your thing that speaks only to you. It only knows you.”
   “Now I feel like shit for not going.”
   “Oh, God, Alt,” Colin groaned hid his face in his hands. “I am so glad that you don’t think being stupid is bad cause I’m gonna tell you that you are being so stupid right now.”
   Altair chuckled. “I feel stupid. Mostly because I’m realising I’m doing the exact things that I’ve been telling you not to do.”
   “I’m telling you, you have to go. What’s the point of having a place like that if you don’t use it?”
   “That’s pretty much what I said to you about the band.”
   Colin sighed. “I know!” He put his hand in his pocket and brought out the jewel again. “That’s what I meant to say when I gave you this.” He held the small purple stone in his palm. “You found it the first time it was lost, it directed you. And then I found it the second time, it directed me.”  He looked down at the stone and then back at Altair. “That’s what it is, isn’t it? It isn’t like when your parents try to raise you and you just take it or leave it. We have to both do it and we have to both listen. Isn’t it?”
   Altair smiled. “I knew that I was right.”
   Colin shrank back a little. “About what?”
   “That you would be the one who is the sensible and grown up one. That you would look after me and guide me.”
   Colin felt awkward. “That’s nonsense.” He had never felt much like he knew what he was supposed to be doing with his adult life but maybe thinking that you were going to lose everything made you grow up fast. 
   “I don’t think you realise just how much of a hopeless recluse I was when you first walked into my store being all lost and cute.” Altair laid his hand on Colins face and stroked his cheek with his thumb. “I put on my best show and sent you on your way and like so many times before I thought I would never see you again. Just another lost soul that wanders through my dark lair.”
   Colin moved Altairs hand to his mouth and kissed it.
   “But you came back, you came back for me,” Altair continued as he grasped Colins hand. “And for the first time in so long I wanted to follow you out. I wanted to see what it was like out there.”
   Colins gaze fell. “And it nearly got you killed.”
   “So worth it. If I had died I would have died happier than I have ever been in my life. I tried once to be something to someone and when it went to shit I just gave up. You never gave up. You kept coming back and I swear I was so close you stabbing you in your fucking face when you were at the store every fucking day after you found out about the phone calls but it was because I don’t know how to be around people and it hurt so much to try to figure it out so fast, not because I didn’t want you to care about me.”
   “I think you’re doing fine.”
   “Yeah, but what if this happens every single time I try to go somewhere?”
   “What?” 
   “This,” Altair gestured at himself. “I’m a fucking mess.”
   “Then I’ll…” Colin was interrupted by a knock on the door. “Yes?”
   The door opened a little and mrs. Grigson stuck her head inside. “Dinners ready.”
   “All right, mom. We’ll…” Again Colin was cut off by his mother as she suddenly opened the door completely and came over to them.
   “Are you all right, dear?” She asked and laid her hand on Altairs cheek like she’d done when she came to see them at the shop. “You look a little pale.”
   “Yeah, I’m fine, thank you, mrs. Grigson.” Altair cleared his throat. “I just got a little… overwhelmed.”
   She raised herself up and turned to Colin. “Did you upset him?”
   Colin stared. “What the fuck, mum! Why would I do that?”
   “Well, you’ve never exactly been a people person, have you?”
   “Muum,” Colin whined. 
   She threw up her hands. “All right, all right,” she said. “Dinner is ready if you want it.”
   Colin groaned as his mother closed the bedroom door again. 
   Altair put his arm around Colin. “Just so you know, I think you’re much more of a people person than I am.”
   “No, it’s not that,” Colin replied. 
   “What then?”
   “I totally forgot that accepting a dinner invitation to mothers would include eating her food.”
   “What’s wrong with her food?”
   “Whats…?” Colin was dumbfounded. He had assumed that Altair had eaten his mothers cooking with the same magnificent poker face he used for everything else but it never occurred to him that he actually liked it. “It’s either underdone or overdone, tastes like nothing  and served with the same sides for the last thirty years. Every day.”
   Altair shrugged. “Tasted fine to me.”
   “How?” Colin could not wrap his head around this conundrum. 
   Altair smiled. “Do you know why I let you do the grocery shopping?”
   “Cause I pass the grocery store on my way home from work every day?”
   “No, it’s because you buy things that you want to eat.”
   “You don’t want to eat them?”
   “No, it’s not that. I have no complaints about your choices. The point is that I couldn’t care less. Before you showed up I think I lived on like three or four separate meals for like ten years, one of them being raw oats with skimmed milk for breakfast every day.”
   “What the fuck?”
   “Yeah, I think you’re gonna have to admit it, Colin,” Altair said with a chuckle. “I’m as bland as your mother.”
   “If you wanted me to buy something particular, why didn’t you just say so?”
   “I don’t know. I guess I wanted to be the kind of exciting person you thought I was…” Altair sighed as the realisation hit him. 
   Colin smiled. “The same as I did.”
   “Yeah.”
   “And then you started worrying that if I found out I’d not like you any more.”
   Altair nodded. “Yup.”
   “Well, there you have it then.”
   “What?”
   “We’re both dumb as bricks, as boring as my mums cooking and who knows what else lurks in the shadows.”
   Altair turned to Colin and was met with a big cheesy grin. 
   “But we’ll find out together, right?”
   Altair nodded. 
   “And we’ll deal with whatever comes out of the shadows together, okay?”
   Altair nodded again. 
   Colin got up and Altair followed. 
   “So we’re off to deal with your mothers cooking together then?” Altair asked with a grin as Colin opened the door. 
   “Fuck no, you’re on your own,” Colin replied and shoved Altair out the door. 
   When the door closed their laughter lingered a little in the air, and then it settled into memories on the dusty shelves. 

Chapter Text

   “Well, go on then.” Colin opened the door and gestured Altair to go down the stairs. 
   “I don’t think I can do it,” Altair replied. He wasn’t sure what he was afraid was going to happen but somehow he couldn’t move. 
   “Bollocks!” Colin replied and grabbed Altairs hand. “What do you think is down there? A horde of demons?” He stepped down into the first step and pulled a little. 
   Altair took a deep breath and followed. They walked down the stairs. When they were down it was dark. There were no electric lights down there. 
   “You’re going to have to light it,” Colin said. “I don’t know where the candles are.”
   Altair reached for the matches and struck the first one. He saw Colins face in the light, shining with anticipation. The match burned up and Altair struck it out. 
   “What?” Colin asked when the darkness fell again as the light died.
   “I just had a memory of when my father took me to a place much like this. I was around six, I think. And I stood in the dark and waited, and the fire lit up his face as he lit the candles. I felt like I had seen some kind of magic then that nobody else knew. I think that moment was the biggest reason I became a priest. I wanted to find that magic.”
   “Did you lose it?”
   “My father died just a few days after that. Maybe that’s why it is burned so firmly into my mind. I’ve been looking for that this whole time.”
   “Do it for him then. Turn the magic back on.”
   Altair struck another match and lit the candleabra closest to the doorway. The flame fluttered and as he looked at Colins face and met his smile he heard his six year old self ask “Is this God?”
   “Everything is God,” his father had replied with a smile. “But it is good to have a place where only He can find you.” 
   Altair looked at the floor. Could it be that all this time he was first now understanding his fathers words? It was his heart. Yes, it was a place too, but this place held all that was dear to his heart. It was his heart in the world. He looked up at Colin who stood there patiently waiting. None of the people he had ever known had seen this place. He had never shown it to anyone. Except Colin Grigson. With his face painted in garish colours and wearing the most outrageous garb over his frail little soul he had waltzed right in. 
   “Are you okay?” Colin asked when he felt like Altair was staring at him a little too much. 
   Altair smiled. “Yes,” he replied. “I am quite all right.” He walked to the other candelabras, one at the study desk and the other by the statue of Mother Mary, and lit them. As the light hit the statue that reached almost to the ceiling the shadow dancing behind her made it look like she was trying to embrace the room. 
   Colin watched the flames flicker as they caught up and then settled. The whole space seemed different than when he’d first seen it. Like he could feel the meaning it had for Altair. The first time he’d only seen a room fool of cool junk, now it was a treasury, a sacred place. 
   Something lying on the study desk caught Altairs eye. It was a rosary, made of blood red garnet and intricate silver beads with an ornate silver crucifix. He picked it up carefully and instinctively he started running it through his hands. Then he remembered where it was from and he clenched his fists around the worn beads. It had belonged to his father and he had technically stolen it. Two days after he died he’d seen it lying on his night stand still and he’d taken it and put it under his pillow. When his mother enquired if he’d seen it he’d lied and said he didn’t know. Nobody ever looked in his room and he would hide it in various places in there until he moved out. After that he carried it with him for a long while and he was even fairly sure that his mother had seen him with it once or twice but she never said anything. And now it was here in this place, still with him. As he wondered what his father would think of this place, so full of strange things. 
   Colin stood still in the same place and watched Altair walk between things, rosary firmly in his grasp. He touched this and that, a book bound in red leather on the study desk, a wooden box with a glass cover sitting on a table that Colin couldn’t see the contents of. There was a dagger and another rosary in a shelf, clothes and a pile of papers. There were candles with strange markings and a scroll of golden silk fabric, more books, pictures in frames and without frames, a silver goblet and a large brass key, several bottles of rum in various stages of emptiness and there was even a small stuffed animal, a bat wearing a sweater with a skull on it. And so many more.
Every time Altair touched an object the memory of it came back to him. Some of them were sombre, some even downright terrifying, but along with the ones that made him smile even these memories made him feel better. He had made a difference for good and he would continue to do so. He looked up at Colin. And he would have someone to share it with. He turned to the statue of Mary. Yes, he would have someone to share it with. 
Watching Altair walking between the memories in the small space Colin could literally see how Altairs spirit was resurrected, little by little. Every touch, every remembrance, his countenance beame brighter, he straightened up and he even seemed to breathe easier. Colin felt like he might cry but tried his best to keep a straight face. He didn’t want to disturb Altairs recovery and reconnection with this place that clearly meant so much to him. He thought back to his own room at his parents’ house. He had never been quite this reverent in there but it had never failed to be his sanctuary. 
   When Colin saw Altair kneel in front of the statue of the Mother Mary with the rosary in his hands he felt compelled to kneel with him. Then he was hit with a pang of embarrassment. This was probably not his place. “Sorry,” he said. “Maybe I should just leave.” He started to rise. 
   Altair grabbed his arm. “No, don’t leave. You do it.”
   “Do what?”
   “Pray.”
   “I don’t know how to do that,” Colin replied, his face pale. “I don’t even believe in any of this stuff.”
   “Doesn’t matter.” Altair looked up at the statue of mother Mary. “Just tell her what you want to say. She’ll understand.”
   Colin clamped his hands together and looked up at the figure above him. Even though he was still convincing himself he could say anything at all he felt like she invited him to speak. He could understand that it would be comforting to be in this small space with her guarding it. “Right,” he started. “Okay.” He cleared his throat. “Ahm…” He turned to Altair. “So, what do I say?”
   Altair clutched the rosary in his hands. The fixed and ingrained decades rolled away in his head as he realised he hadn’t properly prayed in years. He had simply stumbled forwards on autopilot until he fled this sanctuary completely. “I don’t know,” he replied. “I honestly don’t know. Just say whatever comes to mind.”
   “Right.” Colin nodded and looked up at the statue. “There is so much stuff that fucking sucks, and it would be so nice…” he started. In his mind he saw his mothers face looking at him with that ‘and what makes you think you’ve earned that?’ look she always gave him whenever he asked for anything. Maybe he should just try to look at this like talking to his mother instead of the whole worlds mother. Well, the ones who believed in her in any case. “Like, we’ve been very good and trying so hard to continue to be good. Like, I promise I’ll try to help him to not give up.” He stopped again. He had meant it when he said that there were a lot of things that sucked but as he prepared to continue he couldn’t pinpoint anything in particular that he felt he needed to mention. “I don’t know how you feel about the whole metal thing.” He glanced around. “Or the whole dark arts stuff, but we are trying to be good people, you know? Like we’ve not even tried to kill anyone or anything, even though I really wanted to some times.” He sighed. “Does it count if you think about it a lot?” He tried thinking about the two of them like he was a parent. Oh, how many rules they had broken! But then almost immediately he thought; how much patience had his parents shown him? Was that maybe what this whole thing was about? Again the vision of his mother appeared in his head. “So, like, I’m sorry mum if we’ve been bad,” he started again.
   Altair stifled a chuckle.  
   “I hope you’ll forgive us and that and we’ll try to do better. Like, we ain’t giving up the stuff that makes us happy, right? You wouldn’t want that, right? Things would go to shit, right quick, for a start…” Colin sighed again. This time it was Vims disapproving scowl that materialized in his mind. You’re talking bollocks again! Stop talking bollocks! Shut the fuck up, Colin! He clenched his eyes shut. You’re not doing it for them, he reminded himself. You don’t give a shit what they think, even your mother. You’re doing it for him. For us. 
Altair waited. He could tell Colin was struggling with the whole concept of praying but he wasn’t so sure that he wouldn’t struggle just as much. Somehow he’d lost the ability to contemplate and just warbled through the Our Father’s, and Hail Mary’s and Glory Be’s mindlessly as if they’d fix everything. It still gave him comfort but it also meant that he never moved forward with his thoughts. And incoherent though Colins words seemed they echoed his own thoughts so eerily closely. 
   “Maybe it makes no difference if we believe in God or not, as long as we believe in the good stuff, right? And we’ll do our best to be good people.” Colin looked up at the statue that seemed to smile at him. “And maybe you’ll keep your eye on us and, like, tell us if we’re absolutely going the wrong way, right? Is that a deal? I don’t think we could ask for much more really.” He threw his head back and a grin appeared. “Like, we’ll get the fame and riches from the other guy and you try to make sure we don’t waste it all on booze, yeah?” he chuckled at his own joke and then his face became grave again. He contemplated his own words for a moment. “I don’t know…” He looked at Altair. “Amen?”
   Altair smiled. “Amen.”

Chapter Text

   Altair stood in a corner at the back of the venue and surveyed the scene. Colin, Spider and Vim were on the stage playing. As far as he had gathered from conversations around him they hadn’t gotten much better at playing the instruments but the energy was different; rawer, darker.
   There were not that many people there either, even though the venue was nearly full, maybe around one hundred people, but they were all pumped to the rafters. Some of them had come to mock the men on the stage, knowing their history, but had been stopped in their tracks by something they couldn’t quite explain. It was as if a veil of artifice had been swept away and they were finally free to be themselves. 
   Suddenly Altair was aware someone was standing rather close to him. He turned to see a fairly tall youngish guy with long black hair and about twelve ear rings. His denim jacket was hardly visible through pins and patches and chains. 
   The guy reached out his hand. “Trev.”
   Altair shook Trevs hand. “Alt.”
   “Enjoying the show?”
   “Sure,” Altair replied. 
   “You don’t look like the metal type”. 
   “No?” Altair got the feeling that they guy was using this line of conversation simply as an excuse to talk to him, a pick up line of sorts. He supposed that he was a little curious looking in this environment.
   “Nuh uh.” 
   Altair chuckled. “Well, I’m not really. I’m here for personal reasons.”
   “Really?”
   “Mhm.”
   There was silence for a bit. 
   “Is it a secret?” Trev seemed enthusiastic to know more. 
   “Is what a secret?”
   “Your personal reasons.”
   Altair smiled. “No.”
   Again there was a bit of a silence between them. 
   “So?”
   “So what?”
   “What are they, your personal reasons?”
   Altair didn’t know why he suddenly felt the urge to play games. Maybe it was just the general air of the place, nobody was there to be conversational or personal. It was all about pure energy and he could understand the reason why this thing called metal scared so many people. He could feel its tendrils reaching into his core and touching emotions and thoughts he hadn’t felt in decades. He pointed towards the stage where Colin was playing his bass, full metal gear and make up but no wig, his blond short hair worked into a frenzy with hair spray instead. “You see that blond haired, pimped out, bass demon up there?”
   “Ahm, yes. Kinda hard not to.”
   Altair smiled. He was going to say it. For the first time in his life he was going to declare that he was in an intimate spiritual and physical relationship with another human being. “He’s my boyfriend.”
   Trev looked at Altair and seemed momentarily thrown off, then he looked to the stage at Colin, and then turned back to Altair. “Explains a lot.”
   Altair laughed. “I suppose it does.”
   “So what do you do?”
   Altair looked at Trev. He didn’t know how much questioning was abnormal. He’d been out and about among people more than ever before because Colin kept dragging him out but he was still not sure he even knew how to keep up a conversation. 
   “I’m just curious, you know.” Trev said, as if he sensed Altairs hesitation. “I mean, I’ve heard Colin works in a bank so I was just wondering if you were the same, you know, normal ass job person by day, gay ass metal boyfriend by night.” He chuckled at his own joke. 
   “No, my gay ass is twenty four seven weirdo,” Altair replied with a grin. There was another thing that he’d never done before. Saying that out loud seemed simply a matter of fact but he felt a shiver travel down his spine. 
   “So what do you do?”
   Altair looked Trev straight in the eyes. “I’m an exorcist.”
   “What? For real?!” 
   Altair thought Trev was going to jump him. “Yes. I mean, I do other things like give advice and remedies against black magic, sell talismans and study the occult, but exorcism is my main occupation.” 
   “That is the coolest thing I have ever heard. I didn’t think that shit was real. I thought it was just like in the movies and shit.”
   Altair smiled. “No, it’s real.”
   “Your scars from exorcising demons?”
   “Not quite,” Altair replied. He hesitated a moment. Should he say it? Yeah, fuck it. This conversation had been all about just nonchalantly talking about things that normally would cause him days of distress, why stop now? “I’m the reason there is only the three of them up there.” He pointed at the stage. 
   It took Trev few moments to connect the dots. “Holy shit! You’re the guy! Like, that shit was bonkers. Is it true that Den thought Vim was Jesus?”
   Altair laughed. “Who said that?”
   “Somebody said Den had said it.”
   Altair thought back to the conversation he’d had with Den. “Probably not quite exactly like that but something in that direction.”
   “Mental!” 
   Altair chuckled. 
   Suddenly it was if Trev experienced an epiphany. “Wait! Wait here!” 
   “I’m not going anywhere,” Altair replied but Trev was already gone. 

   As he left the stage Colin felt elated. There weren’t very many people in this place that Sally had found them to play in but they were all shouting and screaming. In a good way this time.  Nobody threw anything and nobody tried to climb onto the stage and punch them. And for the first time he actually felt like they were a band. Vim didn’t really speak to him either before or after, that was nothing new, but he had not shouted at him or cursed him out once while they played, and that was certainly something new. 
   When Colin saw Altair he stopped. There was a group of people around him all talking and gesturing. Somebody brought out a camera and some of them had their picture taken with him. It made Colins heart warm to see the return of the confident suave Altair whom he’d first encountered in that fateful interview. Only this time there was something behind it. It wasn’t just a mask. He himself had also taken down his mask. Well, a part of it. It would take him half an hour to wash the hairspray off so that he could look presentable and go to work but it was worth it. 

   “What the hell is going on here?” 
   Altair looked up to see Colin standing there with a massive grin on his face. “I have no idea,” he shrugged. 
   “Your boyfriend has only gone and become more famous than you, Colin!” someone shouted and followed his joke up with a manic cackle. 
   Colin recognised him. He didn’t remember his name but he was a friend of Spiders. And then he realised what he’d said and blushed hard. There was only one reason he would say that Altair was his boyfriend, Altair would have told him. They hung out a lot lately and met other people but he didn’t recall ever having mentioned exactly that to anyone yet except his parents. He thought back to the first time he’d mentioned that what they were experiencing was a relationship, an actual bond. Ever since then there was always a tiny little doubt in his mind simmering. It would probably be over very soon. Altair would change his mind. Somebody else would come along. Something would spoil it. But none of that had happened and now it was out. There was no way that any of these people weren’t going to tell everyone they ever knew about this. He could literally hear them in his head. Hey, you know that awful bass player of that dumb band Bad News that somehow is still playing, one member behind bars for attempted murder, turns out he’s a fucking queer, as if anybody was surprised, but the thing is that his boyfriend is a fucking exorcist, no less! Can you believe that shit? 
   “Are you all right?” 
   “Huh?” Colin was pulled out of his thoughts and as he came back to the room he only saw Altair smiling at him. That warm and rascally smile that always seemed just a little bit sad still.
   “Are you all right?” Altair repeated. 
   Colin smiled. “Couldn’t be better.” He walked towards Altair. Didn’t even glance in anybody elses direction. Fuck’em. He didn’t care about them or what they would say. When he came up to Altair, to his boyfriend, just thinking about it made him giddy, he wrapped his arms around him. “I have everything that I could ever want in this stupid world.” And then he kissed him. Yeah, there was nothing else that he could ever wish for more.