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Chapter 3 There he was. Just as Hayden had known he would be. Stood by the piano, his bottom trying to sit on the stool but never quite making it; as if the seat was hot Theo kept jumping up with each key that he pressed. Theo, Hayden sighed. Theo Jones. A name that just sounded so good on his tongue. Beneath his tongue would feel even better. Hayden lingered in the doorway, careful to step quietly down into the room so as not to disturb. He liked to watch Theo work. The creativity that flowed through his veins, the keys and notes, lyrics and melodies; Hayden found it fascinating. Just how many times he had been beside Theo when a new idea struck him Hayden had lost count. Always Hayden felt the buzz of electricity radiating off his friend, a kind of heat that scorched the side of his face. Theo lit up like a Christmas tree when he was working. He was brainstorming now. Hitting one key and then another, striking a chord, filling the whole room with a booming G. He jumped up off the stool again, stopped, scribbled something down on a piece of paper that had been placed on top of the piano, and then struck another key. He shook his head, scribbled out what he'd just written and put something new. He was in his own world. A tiny little existence that contained only himself, a piano and millions upon trillions of ideas. Hayden was almost jealous of Theo's song-writing gifts. It was something Hayden dabbled with but could never completely lose himself inside. Theo drowned under the notes and didn't seem to even remember that he needed to kick to the surface from time to time for air. Hayden wished Theo would drown in him in the same way. Stepping forward, Hayden pulled the door closed behind him and ventured further into the room. Theo frowned, looked up and then away again. "Hayden," he said; there was a smile on his face but also a frown. He was happy to see Hayden and yet also angry that he'd been disturbed. "What are you doing up at this time?" Hayden placed the very tip of his finger against the smooth, polished surface of the piano top. It felt like water and glass. He dipped his chin down, his eyes tilting upwards, drinking in Theo, giving him his most |
murderous look. Whenever he looked at a person in this way they were always in his arms within a count of ten. Theo had found immunity. Something blocked Hayden's magic. It was frustrating and yet intriguing.
He licked his eyes up and down Theo's body, watching the glow of white light surround and then encase him. He looked radiant - beautiful. Just as he had on stage that night. Like a firework, a funfair - an orgasm. Theo had bloomed, running from one side of the stage to the next, reaching every difficult key, lacing over the more mundane ones with a flair of his own. The girls in the front row had wet their knickers; the ones up to ten rows back had swooned. Theo had been on fire. Hayden was amazed he was still awake - and writing tunes. Shouldn't that white light of energy burned out by now? Wanting to bathe in the heat of that light, Hayden folded his arms and leaned over them onto the piano. He tried to catch Theo's eye but Theo wasn't taking the bait. He was still scribbling on the grubby piece of paper, rubbing lines out, adding new ones, changing notes, touching a key on the piano beneath his fingertips. Hayden spun away, arms out straight on either side of his body, before reeling them in and hugging his own trembling body. "This room is amazing," he breathed. Theo looked up, saw only Hayden's back, frowned and looked around. The room looked very normal to him. Just an unthreatening, unimposing room of cream, crammed full of instruments for the superstar guests that always stayed in this particular hotel. Not all hotels had studios in their basements, of course. In fact very few did. In this city - whichever one it was (Theo had stopped asking a week ago) - they always stayed in this hotel. It meant he could work while the other band members drank, got stoned, slept around or just rested quietly in their rooms. "Just think of all the music that's been made here," Hayden continued, turning, catching Theo's eye. There was something in those green irises that wasn't always there. A fire, yes, but a different kind of flame in the centre. "How many lives have been changed because of the music made in this very room," he said breathlessly. Theo smiled. "You sound like Jerome now." Hayden leaned forcefully across the piano top. "Do you like it?" he asked, eyes wide, pupils very black. |