For those of you who don't know, or haven't guessed by now, I'm a writer. And as I'm sure all of you know, I'm a total dork. I've had this bouncing around in my head for awhile and it refuses to let me go, so I wrote it out and I'm posting it just in case someone wants to see it. It's a futurefic with James and Fisher, set ten years from about six months from "now" (as in game now). It's not finished, and more people may enter the scene or receive honorable mention as it goes, but so far Pey, Lyle and Raquel make guest appearances. Rez gets mentioned too.
It had been ten years, but he would have known that form anywhere. It was strange to find him here, but New York was home to both of them, one the suburbs and one the city. The man was standing on the street, just standing, looking out over the crowd like he was waiting for someone.
"James McCafferty?"
Turning slowly, James was face to face with an unknown person. "Yeah?" he asked.
The other man smiled warmly. "You probably don't remember me-"
"Fisher." The word fell from the demon's lips, stunned. It was the smile that had done it, sparked the memory. That and the eyes, gray and deep and penetrating even when they were hazy and far away.
The medium laughed. "Yeah."
"You look..." James couldn't stop staring, couldn't absorb just how different Fisher was. The medium stood tall, shoulders upright, hair short and out of his eyes. He wore simple dark jeans, a navy blue sweatshirt that fit his fuller frame very well. Right now, he looked the age he was supposed to look ten years ago.
Fisher nodded knowingly. "Grown up."
James swallowed. "Very." Those eyes were mesmerizing, always had been. Like they held a thousand secrets.
"You look... exactly the same." James hadn't changed much. His eyes were still blue as the sky, chin strong and sharp, body perfectly sculpted, hair tousled to untidy perfection. His clothes screamed money and his posture screamed confidence. James Fucking McCafferty. How many nights had Fisher imagined a moment like this, running into him someplace unexpected, fighting their way through small talk. This was easy, surprisingly so. "You look great."
"So do you." James smiled, an actualy smile, and those were hard to come by these days. Actually, they always had been. "Wow. Fisher Majors."
"Ahm..." The medium shrugged a little, crossing his arms loosely over his stomach. "Reznick, actually."
"Oh." James shuffled in place a bit. "So... you and Rez..."
"Yeah. We made it legal about a month after we left. Figured hey, why the hell not." He laughed a little, uncomfortable. This was the awkwardness he'd expected. "I changed my name because I didn't think it would matter, y'know... I'm not exactly carrying on the family name to a new generation or anything."
"Right, yeah. Guess not." James sidestepped out of the way of a fat Asian woman giving him a dirty look for standing idle. "So, how is Rez, anyway?"
A darkness flickered in Fisher's eyes. "He, ahm... he died. About three years ago."
"Oh. Shit, I'm sorry-"
"No it's okay. He got back into touring, was doing a show in Vegas. Jumped his bike through a ring of fire. He'd always wanted to. Well, you know, for an audience, not just in the backyard like he used to." Smiling fondly, Fisher shook his head. "He should've stuck with the skateboard, but you know Jonny... he couldn't back down from a high. Made it through the flames okay, and then he hit the other ramp, and the front wheel's axle snapped, and... off the edge. Face planted into the pavement fifty feet down."
"Oh my God."
"I still see him sometimes. You know, around."
"You... oh." James nodded, because he didn't know what else to do. He couldn't imagine marrying someone, watching them die and then having them just show up as a ghost from time to time. Part of him wanted to grab the smaller man and hug him tightly, try and console him for something that had happened three years ago and he was probably over as much as he could be. But he wanted to do it just the same. Instead, James took a step backward, crossing his arms. "So have you... are you dating again?"
Fisher shook his head. "Nope. I've been busy. And I just... don't want to." It had been unusual for a long time for Fisher to be without a partner in his life, but after the first few months, it had seemed narutal. In a way it was good, because he had never really been on his own before. It was cathartic. "So hey, what about you? Are you and... Will? Or Adam Lambert, or whatever the fuck he calls himself these days."
James chuckled. "You saw that?" Shaking his head, the grin slowly dissapated. "No, we're not... we kinda of... it ended six months after you left." He scratched the growing stubble on his chin. "I was addicted to him. I can't really explain it, but I... needed to have him. And after awhile the addiction wore off, and then it was just..." He gestured with his hands, trying to coax the right words. "It was an angry, jealous demon and a flirty diva angel and we just... I think we would've killed one another eventually. So he left to go sing and do American Idol and whatever he does now. I stayed with Devon for another year, took care of Cissy. I actually got to live in the Big Gay House with her for awhile."
Fisher laughed out loud, a light little laugh full of genuine joy that made James smile unknowingly. "You got to live there? Shit, I'm wicked jealous. Did you ever get to see Ric Witt naked?"
"No, thank God," James said, rolling his eyes. "I saw a little more of, oh what was his name... Wesley! That was it. Saw more of him then I wanted to on a few occasions."
Fisher snorted. "I kissed him once."
"Gee, there's a shocker."
"Shut up!" He swatted the other man's arm, chuckling a little as the all too familiar McCafferty smirk crawled across the man's perfect lips. "So how have you been, if not with Will? How's Rocky?"
"Oh, she's great. Pregnant, actually. She's gonna pop any day now. I need to go see her tonight."
"Yeah? That's cool. Is she excited to be a mom?"
"Yeah. Well, I think so. I think she's nervous, too. You know... worried she'll be like our mom."
"Your mom was... well she was... I'm sure Rocky'll be fine."
"Yeah I know. She's strong. And she was always great with Devon, so."
"How is Devon? He's gotta be what, fifteen?"
"Just turned," James said, suddenly feeling incredibly old. He knew he wasn't, thirty-six wasn't that old, but still. It felt like ages had passed. "He started high school this year."
"Yeah? How does- sorry," Fisher apologized to a group of fourth graders trying to pass by. Their hands were all linked together as a teacher led them through the streets, like a tiny train. Tugging James' sleeve, Fisher led them aside to stand by the yield sign post. "How does he like high school?"
"He likes it, for the most part. He's quiet, but he loves to learn. He's really smart. Too smart, sometimes." There had been too many nights when Devon had come into the bedroom to sit beside his father, his wide eyes just penetrating the demon's brain and probing out exactly the heart of the matter. It didn't matter what James was angry about- Devon always knew the underlying cause. "Thankfully, though, he's nothing like his father."
Fisher studied the demon a moment, contemplating. "I very much doubt that," he said finally.
"Well, okay. He's not the bad parts of his father. He's very calm most of the time."
"I think his father had some really good traits."
If James were a blusher, he would have done so now. Instead, he offered up a shy half smile. "Maybe."
"What have you been doing with your life, James?"
It was a serious question, a direct one. He could have lied, made something up about keeping himself busy, been generic and vague to gloss over it all. But James had always had a hard time denying Fisher anything, and the man wanted to know. Even after ten years he still felt compelled to open up to him. "After I left TJS, Devon and I came back to New York. I worked as a campaign manager to a senator, stayed on as an advisor. Got married."
"Whoa. That's quite a bit. What's his name?"
James cleared his throat. "Her name is Susan."
Fisher's eyes widened. "Oh."
The demon frowned at himself. "After Will left, and you were gone, it just... I didn't want to bother anymore. I met Susan at a benefit dinner, and she was very nice. Devon really liked her, so..." He shrugged. "That was it. We're divorced now, though. And actually, it was Devon who told me to do it. He said I was being stupid staying married to her when I didn't love her. And he was right. I didn't."
Fisher nudged James' shoulder with his fist. "You've been talking about her for two seconds, I could have told you that."
"Yeah well you and Devon can read me like a book. You always could."
"I know. It's one thing I always liked about you. There wasn't a lot of mystery."
Talking about the past, about the unresolved, left them both quiet for a moment. Each had a million things to say, apologies to make, but bringing it up now would only dredge up useless hurt. They were adults, they'd moved on. Or at least they could convince themselves of that well enough. James ran a hand through his hair, Fisher scratched at his thumbnail even though it hadn't had polish on it in years. Both were reverting back to their old habits. "It's good to see you," James said quietly after a moment.
"You too. You look good, James." Fisher checked his watch, pursing his lips. "Say hi to Devon for me, would you?"
"You can tell him yourself, he'll be here in fifteen minutes or so. Unless you have to be somewhere?"
"Oh, no, I just..." He shrugged a little. "I'm just killing time until I go see Pey tonight."
"Pey? Is she still with Lyle?"
"Yeah, she's in a band. They're playing in a club tonight. Lyle's actually her manager now."
"I'm surprised they're still together."
Fisher shrugged again. "When he falls in love, he stays there. And she's mellowed out a lot too, which probably helps."
"Right."
"Do you, um... wanna go?"
"Can't. Dinner with Rocky and her husband."
"Oh, right, yeah. You said." The medium shifted nervously. Was this it? An awkward conversation after ten years, neither knowing when to say goodbye so they just babbled stupidly until either they were forced to leave? It didn't seem right. The memory of James had been so magical, and this moment was... decidedly not. It couldn't end like this. What, was he going to bump into him again in another ten years? Unlikely. "How long are you in town for?"
"I live here."
"Oh, cool. In the city?"
"Upper East side."
Fisher waggled his eyebrows, a habit he's gotten from Rez. "Well well," he said haughtily. "Aren't we doing well for ourselves?"
James smiled. "Yes we are. I have a penthouse."
"Well well! We are doing well for ourselves."
"How about you, where are you living these days?"
The medium's small smirk spread into a huge, almost sheepish grin. "I live on my own island." James stared at him quizzically, so he went on to explain. "Rez bought an island. Like legitimately, paid in cash, I have the deed in a safe somewhere, he bought an island."
"So... you own your own island?"
Fisher nodded, grinning and leaning back onto the sign post. "Yep! Rez made a shitload of money. I don't work, I don't have kids, I don't have a mortgage. I don't do anything except what I want."
"Wow, that... wow." James shook his head slowly, both jealous and disbelieving.
"I know. Rez always said I'd never want for anything, and well... he's a man of his word."
"Yeah." James ran a hand back through his hair, falling quiet. He had always wondered what had become of Fisher and Rez, if the medium was happy, if the two men were still together. It had been obvious Rez would take care of Fisher, but he hadn't thought the man would do it so thoroughly. Even if he and Fisher had stayed together, James knew he could never have give him all that. Maybe it was better this way.
Rubbing the back of his neck, Fisher watched James a moment, tried to read the emotions subtly playing out on the demon's face. It was harder now, since so much time had passed. One thing was obvious, though. James was being pensieve and it wasn't in a good way. "What about you?" Fisher coaxed. "You work for a senator, that's gotta be cushy."
"It is," the demon assured him. "I don't own my own island, but..." Both men chuckled a little. "It's nice. Devon likes my place. He lives with me most of the time, sees his mom on weekends. She's an alderman, so she's busy a lot. Not that I'm not busy, but... less so, apparently." The truth of it was, after the divorce Susan's interest in Devon had tapered off. Now he was more an accessory to her success, and all three of them knew it. James tried to pretend it wasn't so, for Devon's sake, but the teenager always gave him that look that he did, the one that said his father couldn't bullshit him. Still, James couldn't just tell his son that the only mother he'd ever really known didn't care about him anymore. After the way Devon's real mom had left the boy, James didn't think he could take it.
James was holding back. Fisher could tell, he always could. The demon had a million tells and Fisher knew them all. But it wasn't his place to pry. The way James had talked about Susan before, and the quietness he had about her now, Fisher could guess that their relationship was not in the best of ways. "I'm glad you're doing well."
"Yeah."
Another moment of quiet, then Fisher held out his hand. "Gimme your phone."
"O...kay..." Of course James handed it over, a sleek little number that was more a miniature laptop than a phone. He watched as Fisher cliked away on the keypad, waving him away when he tried to see what the medium was doing. Frowning, James folded his arms impatiently. "What are you doing?"
"Hacking your phone," Fisher replied, voice deadpan. "I'm programming in my number, you tool."
"I could've done that."
"Yeah yeah," he said dismissively. Seemingly satisfied, Fisher locked the keypad and handed it back to James. "Right. I gotta get going. I'm in New York until tomorrow night, so... gimme a call if you want when you're done at your sister's."
"Okay." James slipped the phone back into his pocket. "So maybe I'll see you around."
"Yeah." Fisher stepped away from the post, hugging himself. Now he looked more like the man James had known before, small and meek and unsure. "Tell Little McCafferty I say hi, too."
"I will." He felt an overwhelming urge to step closer to Fisher, to close the space between them and wrap his arms around him tightly, to hold him right there in the middle of the street. He didn't, though. Some things were probably better left in the past. "Take care of yourself, Fisher."
"You too. See you around, Jam Jam." James made a face, the one he made when he was acting like he disapproved but secretly he was grinning to himself. No one had called him that in years. Fisher could always get away with it, even now. James watched the smaller man walk away, weaving effortlessly through the crowd. He had a new kind of confidence about him, but James could still see the man he had fallen in love with a decade ago. He wondered for a moment why he was letting the other man walk off, why he wasn't chasing him down now and holding him here, prolonging their talk for the next few hours.
"Where's Fisher?"
Devon's voice broke James from his daze. The words, though, furrowed his brow. "What?"
"Isn't Fisher here? Jack said he was." The teenager's voice broke in a few places, puberty taking its time on him. He had shot up tall seemingly overnight, but had yet to fill out his new frame. Like his father, he was incredibly handsome and very popular amongst the girls in his class. Unlike his father, these girls did not interest him in the least. They seemed to think his quiet darkness made him mysterious and alluring, but all Devon wanted was to be left alone.
James was used to Jack telling on him to Devon. The girl had followed Devon from TJS. He didn't know why Jack hadn't stayed with Fisher, but she hadn't. She'd become a fixture in James and Devon's life, like a constant roommate. Looking back in the direction Devon had come in, James waved to the white sedan that had dropped his son off. Susan was never told about Jack. Perhaps that should have been the first clue to James that being with her wasn't right. "No, he... had to be somewhere." James frowned a little, regretting that he'd let the man go, taking a glance over the crowd to see if he could spot him in the throng of people. No luck.
"Oh." Devon's face fell, but only for a moment. "You gonna call him?"
"I might." James nudged his son with his elbow, the two of them starting their walk toward the subway.
Devon shifted his backpack on his shoulder, matching his father's stride. "I think you should."
"Oh yeah?" James smiled a little. "Why do you say that?"
The boy's response was direct, to the point, and spookily clairvoyant. James felt he should have been used to this by now, but he wasn't. He never would be.
Raquel was round and rosy and waddled about her apartment. She showed James the baby's room three times- once for the color on the walls, once to decide that she now hated the color, and once to ask his opinion on wallpaper accents. James placated her as he always did, Rocky saw through his condescention and smack him for it, as she always did. Her husband, Mark, watched the brother sister pair with a reserved smile on his face. They were close, adorable to see together. Rocky was so much a baby sister, James forever the doting older brother. Devon often stood with Mark in the kitchen while the siblings argued, wrestled on the couch (although now that Raquel was pregnant, she simply shoved him and he took it), laughed over old jokes.
Dinner had been simple, as Rocky didn't have the energy to make the elaborate meals she used to for their weekly dinners. Mark helped as much as he could, but as he worked late most nights his help was limited. Devon never minded- he liked simpler foods anyway. Grabbing tonight's dishes to bring to the sink, Devon kissed his aunt's cheek as he passed. "Is it okay if I stay over tonight?" he asked her.
"Of course, sweetie," she smiled, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "You know you're welcome here any night. You wash dishes." Rocky wrinkled her nose at Mark, who stuck his tongue out in return.
"Why do you want to stay here tonight?" James asked. Not that he minded, but now he wondered if there was a meeting or event he was supposed to be going to tonight that he'd forgotten about. Truth be told, his mind had been elsewhere tonight.
"So you can go see Fisher."
The room was silent. Raquel's jaw fell open, head slowly turning to look at her brother. "Fisher Majors?" James nodded a little, sipping at his wine glass. "Wait, you saw Fisher? Why didn't you say anything?"
"Who's that?" Mark wanted to know.
Rocky shot James a look. "You wanna field this one?" As far as she knew, James being gay had been considered a phase, something that had died when he'd married Susan. Rocky didn't believe for a minute that he was straight again, like some miracle, because she had never seen him so happy as when he'd been with the only two men he'd ever loved. And Fisher, well... that was something she knew still burned within him.
"Fisher is an old friend," James explained casually. He liked Mark, liked him a lot, but he wasn't close enough to the man to divulge quite this much with him. It was complicated. "A friend from school."
Mark nodded. "The boarding school, Halcyon, or TJS?"
"The latter two," James said. "We met at Halcyon, and then... We were roommates."
"Mmm hmmmm....." Rocky hummed, giving James a look over the rim of her wine glass. Hers was grape juice, but she insisted on using the "big girl" cups. She ignored the glare from her brother. "They were friends. Best friends."
"You should look him up," Mark said encouragingly. "Catch up on old times."
"Maybe," James mumbled, swirling the wine dregs in the bottom of his glass. He hadn't stopped thinking about Fisher since he'd seen him that afternoon. Rocky was giving him this annoying look, like she had just discovered why he had been so quiet all night and was silently gloating. "I dunno if he wants to catch up."
"He gave you his number, didn't he?" Devon asked, a blank look on his face but his eyes gave away their amusement.
"Call him!" Rocky insisted.
"I'm getting more wine." James got up from the couch and crossed into the kitchen, the swinging door swishing shut behind him. He poured himself a full glass, drinking down half of it then topping it off again. He wanted to call Fisher. He wanted to do more than call him. But the way things had ended between them, the way Fisher had just left with Rez, how casual the man had been today... what if this lingering desire was one-sided? James didn't want to show up with the wrong idea and make a total ass of himself. Setting his glass on the counter, he leaned onto his palms on the cool marble countertop, letting himself think.
Raquel came into the kitchen with a few dishes, dropped them off by the sink then stood beside her brother. "You should call him," she said softly. "You want to."
"I don't know if he wants me to. Maybe he was just being nice."
"James... don't be stupid," she said flatly. "He gave you his number, of course he wants you to."
"I haven't checked it. He programmed it in, I haven't checked to see if he... if it's real. I'm..." The demon swallowed. "I'm afraid to. I don't want to get my hopes up and then have it be for nothing. What if he put in a wrong number just to toy with me? I wouldn't blame him. I'd deserve it. After everything that happened with Will, and how things were left... He didn't deserve it." He knew he was overreacting. Fisher could have just walked away without leaving a number, could have given a false one if James asked for it. If he were still bitter about what had gone down between them, he wouldn't have approached James to begin with. James knew all this, yet he couldn't convince himself this wasn't going to be some horrible letdown.
Putting an arm around James, Rocky rested her head against his shoulder. "There's only one way to find out. Grow some balls and check your phone."
With a wry frown, James pulled his cell phone from his pocket, letting it sit in his hand a moment as he stared at it. Never before had something so seemingly innocent made his heart pound this hard. Finally he started scrolling through his contact list, an admittedly short list. Evans (coworker), Faith (secretary of senator), Famke (judge), Harper (lawyer). James blinked, checking again. Fisher's name wasn't in there. With a small, almost inaudible sigh, James' shoulders slumped. He shouldn't have been surprised by this. Hadn't he known it was coming?
"Maybe it's under his last name?" Rocky suggested, peering over her brother's shoulder.
It was useless, but James tried anyway. No Majors. In a vain attempt he even looked under Reznick, but nothing there either. His throat felt like it was closing up, like he couldn't breathe. It was hitting him a lot harder than he'd expected. Rocky was murmuring her condolances, giving little suggestions like maybe the phone hadn't saved it right, after all James' phone was impossible to figure out. Maybe Fisher had really wanted to leave his number but he just didn't press the right buttons. James nodded absently at her. He'd been stupid to get his hopes up, that was all. Stupid to- Something caught his eye. A few names down he spotted a new entry, one that made his heart practically stop altogether.
"Who's 'The Boy'?" Rocky asked, quirking her eyebrow.
A small, almost unreadable smile spread onto the demon's lips, one he wasn't even aware he was wearing. "That's how he used to program me into his phone," he whispered.
Hugging her brother tightly, Rocky kissed James on the cheek. "Call. Him."
The club was noisy as hell, but Peyton's loud and kickass voice was clear over all the din. Fisher wove throughout the tables and drunks staggering about to get to the backstage area. The security in this place was totally shitty, as the guy standing guard to the backstage door waving Fisher by without so much as a cursory glance. Fisher ducked by the curtain, spotting Lyle standing near the stage entrace with the usual smile on his face. He was proud of his girl, and it showed. Fisher came up behind him and wrapped his arms around his baby brother's waist. Even though Lyle was several inches taller than he was, and had more muscle tone and a broader chest, he would always call his vampire sibling his baby brother. And when he really wanted to tick him off, it'd be Lyle Baby Buggy Boo.
By now Lyle was used to being accosted by his older brother, so he didn't even jump at the sudden intrusion into his personal space. "She's kicking ass tonight," he said fondly. "I think that chick in the front row is trying to climb on stage to fingerbang her."
"Sounds like a threesome tonight," Fisher grinned. Sometimes Pey picked people from the audience to come into the back and fuck around with. She and Lyle were adventurous, and they were happy together, and Fisher adored them both. Peyton had grown on him (he was very reluctant about this) over the years.
"That's my baby, drivin' the lezzies wild." He turned to look at his brother, brow furrowing in thought for a second. Something weas up, he could tell, but asking Fisher outright what was one his mind rarely yielded results. "Where have you been?"
"Food. Went to Ray's Famous Pizza, got a big fucker slice of cheese. Like mom used to buy us, remember?"
"I meant, where have you been all day? Pey says you weren't in your hotel room. And you ignored me texts."
Fisher grinned. "Well you harass me more than Rez ever did, and I married the fucker." He patted his scolwing baby brother's cheek. "I just went out all day, walked around. Visited old haunts, looked up my dealers."
"That's not funny."
"Oh would you relax? I went nowhere near my old haunts and all my dealers are dead."
"It's only been two years, Fisher. I can't relax."
The medium frowned. "Two years and three months, thank you."
"Yeah, and it was four years before Rez died. Addiction doesn't just go away, and being in familiar territory-"
"I know how addiction works!" Fisher snapped, holding up a hand to silence Lyle. "I went to rehab, watched the Youtube moveis with you, did the program, got my ass kicked by Rez. I have not been using today, or any day. You wannt check my arms? Make me piss in a cup?"
Lyle pursed his lips. "You'd just give me a cup of jizz."
"Oh come on, that was hilarious! Peyton nearly pissed herself."
The conversation was interrupted by the end of Pey's set, the crowd cheering loudly. "Okay, I'm out. Peace motherfuckers!" Peyton shouted, which was met with more cheers.
"I LOVE YOU PEYTON!!" the girl in the front row screamed.
"Get in line!" Pey yelled back, dropping her mic and strutting offstage. "Hey, Fishdick!" she grinned, punching him on the arm. "Where ya been all day?"
"Out and about."
The bandmembers slipped by while roadies went onstage to start breaking down the equipment. Lyle took both Pey and Fisher's arms and led them off to a quieter corner. "You were awesome tonight," Lyle smiled, stealing a kiss.
"I know," she said simply. "So what's wrong with Codfish?"
"What?" Fisher asked, startled.
"I was wondering the same thing myself," Lyle told Pey.
"No offense, Gothika, but you look like... well like you've seen a ghost. And not the usual kind."
Rolling his eyes dramatically, Fisher folded his arms. "Nothing's wrong. I'm fine. Just tired."
"Bullshit," Pey said flatly, Lyle nodding in agreement. "Something happened. Spill it."
With a reluctant sigh, Fisher caved. "I saw James today."
Both Pey and Lyle stared at him a moment, processing. Finally Lyle spoke. "James McCafferty?"
"Yeah."
"Wait, doesn't he work for some senator here or something? I thought I saw him when you made me watch boring fucking CSPAN..."
Lyle nodded to Pey, giving her a dismissive "yeah". His focus was on Fisher, trying to read his brother's expression. "So what did you guys... talk about? Or do, or... how did it go?"
"It was fine. We said hi, I told him about Rez and stuff, he told me about his life and the senator and how Devon's doing. He got married to some woman. They're divorced now."
"Why the hell'd he get married, isn't he gay?"
"Pey," Lyle scolded. "Go break down the set."
"No, don't fucking tell me what to do, asshole!" she declared, punching him hard in the chest. "Besides I wanna know what's going on. Fisher's like my brother."
"You're just nosy."
"That too. So come on Fish, what's the deal? You gonna see him again?"
The medium shrugged shyly. "Dunno. I gave him my number but he's probably not gonna call. He's got a real life and a penthouse and a kid, and I'm... this no-job loser."
"Fisher you're not a loser," Lyle assured him. "People would kill to have your life. Why don't you call him?"
"I didn't get his number."
"Why the hell not?"
"Well what if he doesn't want to see me again? I mean he was all... quiet and stuff, and definitely not acting like himself. Or, the self that I knew. I mean maybe he's just totally different and is just quiet now but he still acted kind of the same most of the time but it was weird, and I dunno. So if he wants to see me he can, and if not then..." He shrugged. "Then not. Not like I'm missing out on anything. It was nice to see him but it's not like I'm pining for him or anything."
Peyton snorted, loudly. "Yeah okay."
Fisher narrowed his eyes at her. "Huh?"
"Mackeral, you've been pining for him for ten friggin years. Even Rez knew."
This was news to Fisher, who had done everything he could not to make Rez think even for a second that he missed his old boyfriend, even though for a great many years he did. "He knew?" he asked softly. Guilt sat heavy in his chest, even though Rez was gone now and there was nothing to be done about it. Still, he hated thinking that the man ever felt like he wasn't enough, like he was just a substitute.
"We talked about it once. He was drunk. It was when we came to visit you guys in Honolulu for Christmas back in 2012. He and I were on the beach while you and vampdick here," she said with an affectionate grab to Lyle's ass, "were back at your mansion-slash-hotel-slash whatever that huge ass thing was. He said he knew that you missed James, and he worried that if the fucker ever came back into your life that you'd take off like a bat outta hell. But he didn't care, he just wanted you to be happy. Dumb fuck." Grabbing a bottle of beer from the drummer's hand as he passed (and giving him the finger when he called her a bitch), Pey chugged down the amber liquid then wiped her mouth on the back of her hand. "He loved you and shit. But even he knew that you were totally stupid for James."
Fisher looked to his brother, who nodded, affirming what Peyton said. Part of him felt like a total asshole. Rez was a good man, a great man, and Fisher had never been completely there for him. He had loved Rez, still loved him now, but it hadn't ever come close to what Fisher had felt for James. Fidgeting, Fisher wished another band member would walk by with some alcoholic beverage he could swipe. "Guess it doesn't matter unless he calls," he said finally.
"Did you check your texts? Maybe he texted you. Since you've been ignoring me all day, maybe he sent you a message and you just assumed it was me."
Not knowing was easier than knowing. Checking his phone meant that it would be decided one way or another if James wanted to talk to him again. Pulling out his phone, Fisher flipped it open. Thirteen messages, and all of them from Lyle. Keeping his face calm, Fisher shook his head to his eagerly awaiting comrades, snapping the phone closed. "Nothing," he said with a casual shrug. "Guess he's just busy." Or doesn't want to see me. "So where are you two-" The phone buzzed in his hand, scaring Fisher half to death. He almost dropped the damn thing. Looking down at the device in his hand, the screen glowing in the darkened backstage area, it told him he had a new text message. An unfamiliar number shone bright at him. It had New York area code. While Pey and Lyle watched intently, Fisher flipped his phone open. Hey. You want to meet someplace? If ur busy that's ok. A smile spread over the medium's lips as he typed back. Show just finished. Just tell me where. Hitting 'send', he looked up at two sets of expectant eyes. "What?" he asked, feeling a blush creep up his neck and onto his cheeks.
"Nothing," Lyle smiled knowingly.
"That ridiculous grin on your face," Pey said. She was far less subtle than her boyfriend. "You look like you're gonna get lucky tonight."
"Unlikely," Fisher retorted, though a small shiver ran through him, hot and sharp as a bolt of lighting. When the next text came, he waved to Pey and Lyle. "Okay, I'm heading out. You two have fun with your night, I'll talk to you later."
"Suck some cock!" Pey yelled after him.
Rolling his eyes, Fisher waved dismissively at Pey over his shoulder, checking his phone. Where we met this afternoon. Smiling again, Fisher typed back: I'll be there. 25 mins. He walked quickly out the back door of the club, running a hand back through his hair. This was fine. They were going to chat and catch up some more and maybe keep in touch in the future. This wasn't some great reunion, a reconciliation to make up for lost time after a long decade apart.