The new album was released. Martin married Christine, Andy married Anna. Both just married husbands decided to go to their new tour, instead of the honeymoon. It was the first tour that they can call serious. Sure, they were touring before, even with Vince, when they took a roundabout way to London's outskirts. But this one meant to be the long one, and it included some foreign countries also. It was a challenge and it was a trial. A challenge of their professionalism, album quality, and the money that Mute gave them before. They were moving from town to town, in a tour bus. There were some beds, and minimalist facilities.
Right before their departure Martin became suddenly aware that he was suffering from travel sickness. So he got drunk in fifteen minutes to a vegetable condition and slept over the next round of the clock. So they comprehend that the hardest trial would be to try to live with each other somehow. To be before each others very eyes for twenty four hours a day, and not having any privacy at all. It was the real danger to their friendship and a threat to their good relations. If you were at home you could fight with somebody and just return home, and in the morning you'll be pretty fine, but now it was nowhere to go. Nowhere at all.
They should resign themselves to their habits, and not the best ones. Dave was loudly mumbling while he was shaving. Martin was not in the mood every morning; because it seemed that he got over-drunk the previous evening again, obviously, brakes weren't included into his construction. And he was a hypochondriac too. He was worrying all the time, if his heart's still beating, if he can breathe at all, or if he had some strange stitch somewhere. Though he refused to take any medications because he believed that all those chemical stuff are immoral, but alcohol wasn't immoral at all, so he took alcohol. Fletch who was partying with him all night, held on better but he was doing them slowly with his tiresomeness. He urged them to keep the place tidy and to keep their personal stuff in order, explaining that this place is so small and there is an obvious need for them to be orderly persons and be law compliant persons at the point of them four living together.
Dave was dreaming how he could strangle Fletch in bed one night. Dave had a sore throat and his stomach was aching too, but Fletch decided that it is a lecture time.
- Why are you clucking here like a hen about her stolen eggs? - Obligingly asked Dave, - Someone here is trying to get some sleep.
- I am trying to get some sleep in the mornings either, Dave, but still you are mumbling in the toilet, or when I am trying to get some sleep during the day, you are galloping to the toilet to mumble loudly like a madman, - said Andy.
- I am not mumbling I am warming up my voice! - Dave almost jumped up from his bed, - Besides I think it's time for you to know, Fletch, some people are singing here.
- But of course not as masterly as you are clapping your hands, - announced Alan from the bed that was right under Dave's bed. He was wearing only variegated boxers and was very gloomy; he tried to read when it all has been started.
- I AM NOT WARMING UP MY HANDS HERE NEAR YOUR VERY NOSE FOR TWENTY FOUR HOURS A DAY! - roared Fletch.
From the top bed over Fletch`s they heard thunderlike genuine laughter they started to hate.
- HEH-HEH-HEH!
- YOU SHUT UP YOU CUNT! - They roared altogether.
- You fucked us up with your bras - said Dave - they are everywhere, but this big red jerk is screwing my brains for my only pair of socks!
- I'll remind you about being a jerk later…- hissed Andy.
Martin poked out his head; there was a sheepish grin on his face, of course.
- But I am not wearing bras, - unbelievably nicely he said, - I am proud of my small and naturally perked breasts!
Dave hid his face and tried not to die from laughter.
- BUT YOUR CHEAP WHORES ARE WEARING! - Squeaked Alan, - They are everywhere! I'm fucking tired to find another bra under my pillow everyday. I'm feeling myself here like I am in a venereal clinic! Are you shagging them in every bed?
- Shagging? Me? In every bed, no it cant be true - said Martin, his smile became even brighter, when Alan handed him a lacy bra, - Oh yeah…it's brassiere, - Martin examined it, thoughtfully, then put it on to his head and said, - Or may be it was my mistake, not to wear them? - He strained brassiere cups putting them on his ears and asked his buddies, - Please, tell me my dear ladies, does ash pink color suite me or not?
Dave and Andy snickered.
- If I'll climb up there now… - warned Alan - You will not survive this time, Martin.
- YOU will not survive if you'll even try, Al, - warned Dave.
- Should I wear it for tomorrow's show? - Not giving any attention to their dialogue asked Martin.
- Take it from him, - moaned Alan, - fuck you take it fucking away from him. And throw it far far away, as far as it ever possible. Martin, you cunt, give it to me, now, if you are going to fucking wear it I'll better eat this shit just not to allow you.
- Why are you so nervous, Alan, - nicely asked Martin, - oh…I should have known…it might be yours?
Andy and Dave were trying to drag Alan down, but it was hell hard, because he was too keen to climb up now.
The next day was hard and Alan was very tired after the show. All the equipment just stopped working correctly as if it was cursed. Phonogram was pausing not in time, synthesizers` programming went wrong. He was feeling nervous all day and he was really mad that no one except him seemed to care much. He just wanted to hide somewhere not to see anyone and not to hear anyone. But Martin, Dave and Fletch were just extremely happy that no one kicked their asses for that show. It was ok but then they decided to drink some tequila.
At the customs where their bus stopped, Martin and Andy rushed into the duty-free shop, didn't care to change their show outfits. Martin was with painted nails and in his makeup; he was wearing his lacy corset shoulders-strap down, leather mini skirt and leather pants. He told them that found this lacy corset here in the bus, but Alan was sure that it didn't belong to any of them four. Assistants in the duty free shop nearly died from this surreal beauty incarnate, other tourists that doomed to be customers today, were dashing aside them.
Andy held Martin's shoulders possessively, like a respectable burgher, who went out for a promenade with his young wife. Martin were grinning sheepishly and tenderly making eyes on Andy, he was in heaven from the all attention that he could attract now. Alan thought that most radical tourists should be given a box in the ears that's fore sure, crashing and yelling around their bus were that loud, but he didn't care to look, Martin's killingly joyful face appeared before him explained all.
- Monsieur Wilder, - with false French accent asked Martin - Are you ready for the booze-up and debauchery? - He smelled with alcohol right now so they've started it already.
- Be gone, Evil One, - Alan pulled the blanket over his head, - Get thee gone Satan! I don't want to see you anymore.
- Shall I not disturb your wet dreams about your hairdresser girl? - Martin asked with tender voice, pulled the blanket off Alan's face and passionately kissed his forehead.
- Fuck you, Mart, - Dave pulled Martin to himself by the belt, he talked a little bit slurry, - You fucking out of your mind? You should be hold in a leash?
- You `d better keep him in the cage with a muzzle on, - said Alan.
Martin laughed.
When they left the customs far behind, those three started to drink tequila. Andy became a master of ceremonies in this damn kindergarten. They sprinkled some salt on their palms, licked it then drank their tequilas then bit a lemon, they was following Andy's command.
- Lick. Bite, - sounded loudly.
- I will lick you…. - roared Alan, - and bite you all but just shut the fuck up.
The rest of his speech drowned in loud guffaw. Andy was almost crying. Dave was lying on Martin's lap his legs were jerking from laughter.
The plane's engines were droning smoothly. Martin's eyes were shut, he seemed to be sleeping. Dave was staring at his neck, at the steadily pulsating vein, on his stylish shaven whiskers on his smooth face.
He recalled another tour. Exciter Tour. About only few years ago. Dave again nearly drowned that time, though he was confident that it will never happen. He had his beloved wife Jennifer now, his Angel and his Saviour, he had their children and he had his life. New life. Different life. Filled with light and warmth. Free from all this pain and suffering. It has nothing in common now with the Abyss he fell into before.
When they met the first time on the bargaining table in the band convention, Martin and Fletch already did something for the album. That was cool, so he will need to work less. They haven't seen each other too often, though when they met there were a lot of people around. Especially in Santa Barbara in Martin's home studio. Christian and Peter and other session musicians created something, Martin was strumming something on his guitar, Fletch was reading his newspapers, Dave was frigging around the studio, jeering around and smoking his cigars. Martin laughed at his jokes, he was with his daughters almost all the time, they looked like two his clones in female appearances. Girls adored Uncle Dave.
- Uncle Dave, we will go to the aqua park today? You promised…and I want the same picture in my arm…as yours.
- You have two choices ladies, - Dave said, - Picture or AquaPark.
- Angels of mine, could you please stop bothering Uncle Dave? - said Martin.
- Ladies, we will do our job, there's little left and then your Dad and me will take you to the Aqua park, - Dave lifted up his index finger, - Can you hear me, Daddy?
- Do I really have a choice? - asked Martin.
- NO! - yelled Viva and Ava together.
- Fletch, will you go with us?
- I forgot my swimming suit; - Andrew's eyes were piecing Dave even through his glasses.
Martin's wife, Susanne, was so very nice with Dave but he knew she can`t stand him. He doubted that Martin will ever tell her anything about them, that wasn't in his style at all, it was easier to kill Martin then to make him tell you the things that he doesn't want to. Obviously, he never has been so eager to tell the things like that to anyone. Especially to his own wife. But her possessive instincts to her husband were painfully tried every time in Dave's presence. However it all was so nice and sweet, they were like two old buddies, and Dave relaxed. He relaxed where he should not; he relaxed where it was forbidden to relax to him.
Not with the man whose name is Martin Lee Gore. He wasn't an Angel, like Jennifer, even if his clothes on this tour were shiny white and it seemed that he had a white wing behind his shoulder.
Dave couldn't recall how it happened again, why he found himself in his hotel room in his bed, with Martin lying on top of him. Martin was kissing him slowly and tenderly, touching him slightly, it felt more like the tickle then the touch. Martin kissed his hands, his lips, as always, Dave was already going to come.
- I am a grown up man, - whispered Dave to his mouth, - I shouldn't come from the fact that someone groped me in the corner.
- I am not groping you in the corner, - answered Martin, - I am just kissing you in your bed. What's wrong with that?
Dave cursed himself for his chest hair because it seemed to interfere in him enjoying the sensation that Martin's lips were giving him. Weird, Martin treated him like he was some precious jewel, like he was an inexperienced tiny girl, treated him as if he was aware to offend or to frighten him. No it wasn't such inexplicable if you could remember what they've been through. Dave felt sometimes that almost from every single common gesture or simple touch he had a lump in his throat, like he was like a thirteen year old boy, and it was his first date and he was going to tell the girl that he likes her. Regarding the fact that near him it wasn't a young girl it was a grown man, and they had known each other for twenty years now, and they knew each other not from their best sides, it was rather strange.
- I hate you, - he said to Martin after the press conference, while accompanying him to his hotel room, - I hate myself. Because of you. I hate you because of myself.
Martin answered with his own genuine - Heh-heh-heh- and gave a sharp blow to the door near Dave's very nose, not even care to turn back. Dave shrank back from the door with the surprise.
He was thinking a lot about the nature of their relationships. Why this gravity was so strong why it is dragged them to each other with unbelievable strength. Sexual attraction, even unusually huge would pass, and sexual partners of any kind would never be a problem for them both. What amazed Dave most - it was his own attitude to Martin. He just couldn't see himself with another man. He just can`t. He believed that he could come or maybe even twice with the with same sex person, but the idea of some other man as an emotional centre of his being, like Martin, made him really sick.
But the result of all his reflections was every time just the same. And today Dave's was staring at the ceiling, his feelings was rapture and hate combined, he was trying to catch some air, and knowing that it was stronger then him this whirlpool of the senses and feelings, those emotions that was ripping him apart, crushed his soul because He was near at the moment and He was with him only now. Dave just allowed Martin to do whatever he desired. And he knew he would allow him as long as he will need it.
Martin was this type, he'd never tell you if he doesn't like anything right in your face. Dave just thought that he has to do it anyway. He dragged Martin to his room later and lifted up his own shirt, his chest was absolutely smooth now.
Martin would never been compared to another lover for him, because he doesn't need words. Even worse, the less you tell the best it worked out. Martin could comprehend what exactly did his partner want from him, and maybe even better than his partner himself, it never appeared in Martin's mind that it could be other way. Dave's head was spinning from those thoughts even more than from physical caresses. And it dragged him into the blackest whirlpools of jealousy, when it appeared to him that he`s actually not the one who can experience those kinds of sensations from Martin. But, nevermind, this time Martin sized up his sacrifice like he should and only he could be THAT grateful.
But in the morning he wasn't near, again.
It drove Dave wild; he came to hate this wicked game. Martin held his strings, like he was a puppet for him. Martin gave him tenderness and sophisticated pleasures, but strictly held his distance. They were physically close every night, as it had never been before, their wives would have a right to demand their payment, but they've never been so far apart emotionally. Even in that early Basildon amateur show, when he violently tried to show drunken Martin that he cared, when they were avoiding each other, they were closer than now in those fashionable hotels across Europe. It got better and better, but the pain grew bigger and bigger.
Dave was groaning, almost crying, though he was happy that this room, next to his is empty now, because its owner now was lying between his legs pushing him to his orgasm.
- Mart…Mart…Mart…Martin, Martin, Mart, - he whispered this word like it was a spell, feeling this name on his lips like a caress.
- Mart, - he made him come.
- Mart, - he went inside him like maybe dreamt a lot of people but no one ever could.
- Ma-a-a-art, - Dave was clutching steel muscles of Martin's arms, twitching under him, again and again, like he wanted to be free, but just increasing their contact to feel the pleasure became unbearable, as unbearable as later became this familiar pain.
Next day it repeated, and not a single word from Martin again.
Naked Dave was lying in Martin's bed, crushing all the pillows under his weight, he was smoking his cigar.
- I understood why are we sleeping together, - said David, - I am trying to talk to you for the past twenty years but you can`t communicate any other way. However the bed is the only place on Earth where I can hear some miserable resemblance of sincerity from you.
Martin looked at him point-blank. His face refused to show any emotion.
- So I believe, - said Dave.
Martin tiredly looked aside.
- Talk to me, - asked Dave, though he knew he was sounding like some geek.
- Why? - asked Martin.
- To talk? - Dave determined - Why to talk?
Martin nodded.
- I have no idea. I need to know what's going on with me, what's going on with us…both.
- What is going on with us that never happened before? - asked Martin if this desperate sorrow wasn't hiding in his strange eyes, Dave would decide that Martin was making fun of him.
- I want to talk about our relationships.
- What's wrong? - Martin asked again and Dave tried to breathe slowly to slow his rising rage, he suddenly felt a need to hit him but he was sure that he will hate himself then.
- Oh, everything - he said, squeezing his teeth, - Everything's wrong. I am feeling bad. I am feeling hurt. I've told you, I don't like pain. I am not satisfied with what's going on, Mart, don't you understand? I am not satisfied with those relationships, Mart. Are you?
- Yeah, - almost inaudibly said Martin, nodded and then added, - Yes. I can`t explain, I don't know how. I just know… that I need you.
Dave lost his speech. He opened his mouth then closed, inhaled cigar smoke, then quenched his cigar then tried to light it up again.
- Dave, - said Martin.
- Mart?
- W-what…exactly do you want from me? - He asked.
- The fuck I know, - spilled Dave with clear irritation in his voice.
Martin nodded. He knew that even better.
- I don't know and it drives me wild, - said Dave, - I don't know anything I just feel I should break free from all this and breathe again. I am feeling like a puppet, I am feeling that I can`t control my life. I don't want it anymore…no…I want to be free.
Martin looked at him. His eyes were like cat's or serpent's eyes, they expressed nothing.
- Martin, do you understand what am I talking about? I want to rule my own Destiny. I believed I did. But then you appeared and I am not myself anymore. I want to be free from all that. I want to be free.
- I never kept you from that, - Martin said ordinarily, - and I wouldn't ever. When you decide to leave, could you please turn down the air-conditioner a little, I can`t find my control panel.
Dave scratched his navel.
- The fuck I go now, wearing only socks, - he said, turning off the light and turning to sleep.
Martin had never opened himself to him. Down to the bottom. It was just his nature, there wasn't some exact reason. Dave grinned, well perhaps he even hasn't got a clue that something's wrong with that.
Martin somehow enjoyed his existence in that abyss of pain and vice and despair where Dave had been once and nearly died. Obviously, Dave believed now that there are certain things in this life that should stay unknown. He always was an idealist, when he was young he thought that lovers and friends should share everything with each other, their dreams, ideas, they should be like an opened book to each other, little by little he started to realize, that there could be another points of view in the world, which don't coincide with his, now he surrendered. Dave had yawned and put his head on Martin's shoulder; Martin almost jumped from surprise and opened his eyes.
- We arrived? - He asked.
- No, - Dave said, - but soon… I hope.
- Where's Fletch?
- Like during all important moments of his life, he`s visiting the toilet. That's why important moments never happened to him, he just knows where to wait till the end of it all, - Dave said, his head was still on Martin's shoulder. Martin laughed and moved in the arm-chair, trying to get more comfortable.
- Answer me, Martin, - Dave finally decided, - why am I trying to change you my whole life, but don't succeed?
- Cos my motto is I fear changes! - Martin said.
- You're lying, - Dave said.
- Oh yes, and I am lying, - Martin agreed.
- Dear God, did I sin that much? Why are you punishing me like that? - Dave asked Somebody, looking crookedly at Martin.
- You should ask your conscience, Dave, you should ask your conscience, - Fletch, appeared behind his back, answered instead of Somebody and settled himself down on the opposite arm-chair.
- I was thinking about this before, Dave, - Martin smiled, - and came to a conclusion that, perhaps, I don't want to change anything… I mean, in you… Who knows what is right and what is wrong? Maybe, I could be better but it won't be me, and maybe you could be…different, but it would be a different person. You… - Martin paused as if he was searching for the right words, - blame me because I'm hanging on the past…
- I don't.
- You do, - Martin said, his face was thoughtful, - and maybe you're right, all that I ever had is in the past now.
- Mart…
- No, I don't blame you, you're right, Dave. I have nothing but memories.
- Yeah…past, - Fletch nodded, setting his glasses straight, - You know, when I was young I used to think, Dave, how sweet life could be if your parents used contraception better, but now I realized that somehow you are diversifying my plain routine of rights and obligations. You know, my life would be really boring without you.
- I love you too, Andy, - Dave pouted his lips.
***
However they knew that show must go on. They were getting used to their success. They comprehend, they were going their way to the top and this feeling sending shivers down their spines and making their heads spin. It was just outrageously gorgeous. They moved into another city and they knew this city would lay at their feet.
Veni.Vidi.Vici. They came. They saw. They conquer. And the city willingly submitted them its love, adoration, worship, sex, alcohol and drugs. The City laid in front of them like an experienced whore, openly offering herself to them. They left after another day and then in the next city it started from the very beginning.
- Sometimes I feel how a Conqueror should feel, - said Martin. He stood near the window, gazing at the brightly colored city roofs, he crossed his hands on his chest like some sort of Napoleon and screwed one eye not to let the smoke of the cigarette enter. Alan interrupted his staring at the storm-cloud, so obscured and saturnine on the low Holland sky; he blinked and looked at Martin.
- What is it? - asked Martin. He looked pale and thin. Or maybe Alan just forgot how he looks like; he hasn't seen Martin during the daylight for half of the year.
- It's nothing, - Alan smiled.
- Is it? - asked Martin.
- It is!
Martin shoved him with his shoulder, Alan shoved him in return. They both were laughing now.
Alan gazed at the window once again and shrugged. This storm-cloud seemed to move at his direction, twisting into some intricate spirals, like turning into a tornado. Alan gazed and suddenly he recalled his last nightmare. He fell. He fell down, somewhere. There was a lot of familiar faces and voices they tried to catch him but it was useless. He just fell deeper and deeper, and he was crying out desperately. A black whirlpool moved to him closer with every second of his fall, with thunder and roar. He tried not to look but again it was useless, his own will meant nothing at all. This Hell Broth was boiling near, Good Lord, he believed that it might be Hell. He put his hands to his ears not be able to hear this sound of approaching of the giant twister. Now he can hear voices in the tornado's roar. Screams, as desperate as his own. He was sure now it WAS Hell.
This hell broth approaching him even right now with this storm-cloud, Alan screamed and grabbed Martins hands with his cold, shaky fingers.
- Alan, are you all right? What's going on with you? - Martin held him not letting him to fall down to the floor, he looked at him anxious. Alan saw his face and suddenly returned to his senses. Coffee-colored curtains and primitive pictures in the same plain deep-brown oak frames, forged chandelier, reminded him that he was in a hotel; he wiped off the sweat from his forehead, - Alan? - Martin called him again.
- Huh? - Alan breathed out, - I'm probably just tired. Overdone. It's… - he nodded to what he sees now as an ordinary cloud - Weather stuff…maybe. Acclimatization.
- Weather stuff? Um…yeah…it's like atmosphere pressure…
Alan nodded, feeling a little bit shaky still. Martin dragged him to the couch.
- Atmosphere Pressure,… - said Martin, - Once I…
- Oh, no, - moaned Alan, - not now, Martin. Stop telling me about your damn health, for I just can`t stand it right now. This is too much for me to hold on.
Martin obviously was offended, because he ceased talking for the long time. He melancholically went into the bathroom; he found there two glasses in the plastic bags signed Sterilized. He gazed at the bags with wonder for some time, then opened the bottle of wine.
He handed a full glass to Alan, drank his own glass bottom's up and set near to his mate. Alan felt inconvenient for his previous harshness to Martin. He began with some uncertainty.
- Hey, you'd better stop your all night partying, chuck, your muzzle turned deep blue. You know clubs and bars are not that good for your health. Night is to sleep.
Martin nervously licked his lower lip.
- I can`t, - he said, - I can`t sleep.
Martin looked at the window and back at him. Alan frowned.
- Fletch said that today there will be a party… - started Martin.
- Yeah, - Alan answered, - we better go then.
***
This time the grass was hell strong, they picked up their drug dealer somewhere in Holland, and he decided to mess up with them nobody knew why. They four were relaxing in Fletch`s room and kept giggling from every chicken-feed for the whole hour. They were feeling that the joint was giving to their screwed up and damaged on tour souls some warmth and may be even some sort of love for the co-workers. They all seemed so nice people now. Then they drank some wine to be more satisfied with the hash's effect.
Martin went into the bathroom, yelled at the sight of himself in the mirror and then he returned, giggling and told everybody that there was a red-eyed vampire in the bathroom.
Fletch told him that he is the red-eyed vampire and tried to hide under the sofa. Martin loved the idea, he insisted that they should call him Nosferatu from now on, and he started to bite his buddies in the neck, jumping on them from the back.
Dave attacked some bizarre antiquarian bureau in the adjoining room. There was somebody, and this somebody was spying on him. He was making faces to him, hiding and laughing at him, he poked his head from this bureau every time when Dave tried to look somewhere else. Dave cursed him, threaten him, but he only laughed and cursed him in answer. Dave tried to crawl under the bureau, but this bastard was slipping away from him every time he was sure that he caught him. But Dave now was ready for revenge.
He pulled his clasp knife off his pocket and began to methodically and attentively knock bureau down, unscrewing each small screw, breaking open the doors and legs and shelves. Several hours passed and his job was done, he was proud of himself that he beaten this unknown invader. He went in into the room where he left his friends before to boast of his accomplished feat.
He froze. He couldn't believe his eyes. He couldn't believe, he went out then went in again. But it wasn't a hallucination it was real.
Nobody understood what had happened then.
But they failed to finish their tour this time `cause they couldn't find Dave in the morning. They asked Head Waiter, and he answered them, that mister Gahan left hotel this night and went to London.
- H-how's that? - asked Martin, trying hard to blink, his eyes were sore if there was sand.
- Mister Gore? - asked the Head Waiter.
- Yeah, - said Martin.
- Here is a note for you from Mister Gahan.
- What?
- What is that?
Alan and Fletch asked.
Martin looked at them and forced a clown smile. It worked out rather bad and unnatural. He crumpled a sheet of paper and put it into his jeans pocket.
- I-I…don't know….but I think…he`s probably… - slowly he began.
- MARTIN?! - yelled his friends.
- I-I… don't… think …he… will… back, - said Martin and thoughtfully tumbled down face to the floor.
Dave was going to his London flat in a taxi. He felt better here, in England. Not great but, he will get over. Meanwhile at the other end of Europe, Martin was lying in a chamber under the medicine dropper, melancholically watching limpid fluid flowing down through the transparent tube into the needle, stuck into his vein.
Only a week ago it seemed to be so right.
They returned after the French concert, Martin followed Dave. Dave stopped in the corridor leaning against the wall and talking about their unbelievable attainments in modern art. Martin buried his head into Dave's neck.
- Dave - he said.
- What? - Dave answered, patting Martin shaven nape and moving a cigarette to the opposite corner of his mouth with his tongue.
- Da-a-ve - Martin drawled.
- What is that, Martin?
- No-o-thing.
- Already tipsy, Your Majesty? - Dave asked.
- Not yet.
- Going bananas?
- Nah. I just like the sound of your name - Martin was blowing on his neck, - Dave.
- Ouch - Dave felt something scratching his navel and down to his balls. And he had just said that he liked the name. Short but already curly hair tickled his palm. Martin rubbed his face on Dave's neck. Half-sigh or half-moan loomed to Dave. He hissed and gripped Martin's shoulder, holding a cigarette in his hand; he gripped Martin not to fall himself. His heart hardly jumped out of his chest. Martin was standing near him, lying his head on his shoulder, he didn't touch him any other way, but Dave was dying from rapture.
- Ya know, - he said finally to justify himself in his own eyes about his weakness, - If my cat is hungry he always comes to ya starting rubbing, purring, my mother comes to a standstill so touchingly looking at him, she's afraid to breathe, and she like - Oh my sweet kitty has come….I always laughed at her, but now I understood.
Dave dragged from his cigarette.
- Heh-Heh-Heh - Martin said and dug his teeth where he could reach, suddenly Dave realized, what exactly he was going to do.
- You animal, don't you dare to do that - but he couldn't seriously prevent Martin's intentions, - oh, fu-u-uck.
- Mine - Martin said. He put out Dave's cigarette and stuck it into his mouth, stepped back. He was looking at Dave a little bit weird.
- What?
- Mine.
- Marking your territory? - Dave grinned, rubbing the base of his neck, as if it could save him from the appearance of this mark.
- Hey, - making big pauses between his words said Martin, ordinarily and even indifferently, - I think….I am…in love now.
Dave dropped his eyes, took another cigarette with his trembling hand lit it up.
- Fucking shit, - he said, taking his cigarette back from Martin's mouth and replacing it with the new one. He lost his voice for a minute, - you know, this is the real fucking shit.
- Why da ya t-think sho? - Martin lisped, not caring to take the cigarette out of his teeth.
Dave tried to glean the words for long, but only flapped his hand.
- Forget it, - he said. - My hands are shaking. I need to drink now.
He entered the room, approached the bar without any doubt that Martin followed him. Whisky scorched his throat. Martin sat on a floor not letting the cigarette out of his mouth and spilling ash everywhere. Dave sat opposite him and placed an ashtray near him.
- Outside - Dave said he was lighting a new cigarette right from Martin's. Martin turned.
- It's night.
- People - Dave said - they're always standing there - he grinned - they're sitting up at my window to see me, to take an autograph.
- People are people - Martin quoted himself - you know, I'm afraid of the darkness.
Dave pensively moved his eyebrows up and down.
- Martin, don't try…oh, no don't you try to arouse my sympathy again, don't try this trick on me Martin I know already where it leads.
They both laughed.
- 1:0 and you opened the score - pensively nodded Martin and propped his head, he was looking to the unknown direction.
- I'm afraid too, - Dave said suddenly - you know I'm happy now, but I'm afraid. They're copying me, trying to be like me. I'm afraid of their love and I'm afraid of losing it. I know what they're expecting from me and I'm afraid of ruining their expectations. On the other hand I'm afraid that I'm not the one they expect me to be. I want to say everything but I know that I can't say even a half. Do you understand me?
Martin looked without blinking, then he came to his senses, rubbed his face and yawned.
- What do you think about it? - Dave asked.
- To be honest, - said Martin, - I think in time it will be worse.
- Why?
Martin shrugged his shoulders.
- Once the man asked God "Why, my Lord? I've lost my wife and son, my daughter was raped, my house burnt down to the ground, so I've got nothing. I've lost my last hope. When this black stripe is going to end?" and the Lord answered him: "You'd better relax, man. It was the white stripe yet".
- Sometimes I miss your comprehensive optimism - Dave laughed.
- Besides, I think I'm happy now… - Martin said.
- Right. Me too but it's your fault - Dave grinned.
- I was going to say the same.
- I knew.
Martin smiled.
- I haven't got friends at school…
- Martin, I really love you, somewhere… in my very soul, honestly, but for some reason, I'm not surprised. - Dave said he was lying in his side, propping up his head.
- Heh-Heh-Heh - Martin laughed significantly - except Fletch.
- Fletch isn't human, he's some sort of higher being, I wouldn't count him in. I'm watching him for a while and I can't comprehend either he is an Idiot or an Angel.
- Uh… yes - Mart raised his eyes to the ceiling thoughtfully - I am wondering from time to time, but that wasn't what I was going to say.
- You said you haven't got friends.
- Yes.
- Well?
- When we started all this band stuff, it was like a method. They laughed firstly, and then it became the way to win respect from people around.
- I know this respect stuff. I was a punk. I fought the law and I fought narrow-minded morality, and I literally kicked some asses and so on.
- Uh…well - Martin deflected back, resting upon his elbows, he bit his lip - I'd say that I was beaten more often.
Dave laughed.
- Okay, you've won. I didn't win very often too.
Martin's teeth sparkled in the light of the lamp. He sprawled, touching Dave's leg with his and put his hands behind his head. Remains of the cigarettes were smoking in the ashtray.
- Still, that's a paradox. The more people surround you, the more you feel you're alone.
- You're not alone.
- Am I?
- No. Not alone. - Dave said firmly and stood up. - Enough dragging upon the floor, Mart. It's time to sleep.
Martin shook his head. Dave extended him a hand.
- Ok, chuck. You won. I will lay beside you and I will protect you from some dreadful monster from the dark and it won't bite you. Our score is One-one now?
Dave went out of the bathroom wiping, drew the curtain, turned off the light and slipped under the blanket beside Martin.
- Good night, little baby, - he said and kissed his ear.
- Good night.
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