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Thom/Beck - Part 2	By : VinylTap Category: Singers/Bands/Musicians > Radiohead Views: 1975 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not know Beck or any of the members of Radiohead, Sonic Youth, or REM. This story is a work of fiction, and I make no money or profit from it.

Chapter List
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- 13
At least it wasn’t humid in Vancouver. At night, the air was chilly, leaves rustling, sprinklers somewhere off. Chatter and music grew fainter this far from the stage area, people were randomly drunk here and there. Nice not to be on the performing end for once, it had been nice to be just the opening act for a while, too.
You know what fondness is like. You know what it’s like, wonder. The playful, mischievous thrill that comes with feeling the night is young. Something sweetly painful, fragile, embarrassing; the night breeze whirled dry leaves in spirals, you saw them under the park lights.
It was too late now.
It was utterly daft, that too late even came into consideration, like it mattered to begin with. Not like they were strangers, was it? The night wind swept empty wrappers past Thom’s feet, down the trailer ramp, this was the right one, wasn’t it? It was too late, now that he’d knocked on the door.
It was unnerving for some ungodly reason, no reason at all, you’d think what Thom’s nerves suffered touring with REM would have him neutralized for this. From within, you could hear a television vaguely on, or maybe voices, maybe the music from the stage far off; there came the hollow pad of footsteps on the trailer floor, metal sound of the doorknob, Thom gazed up as on impulse.
Justin stood at the doorway with a slice of pizza in hand. His brow furrowed, he slowly stopped chewing, like the weight of things slowly set in.
Thom smiled badly, eyes darting around as to be sure he’d got the right trailer. He bounced a little in place, like he wasn’t certain what to do with the fact that he was irreversibly there.
“Dude, who is it?” Channing called, and Justin turned his head into the trailer, still mid-chew, pizza forgotten in his hand. Then he turned back toward Thom, who already was murmuring an explanation, he’d recognized Justin and was now pretty sure he was at the right place. Didn’t help him feel any less stupid.
Channing proceeded to join Justin at the door, peering over his shoulder, and promptly muttered, “Holy shit.”
Thom already regretted coming; this was exactly the kind of big deal he didn’t want to start. He spoke very softly, still bouncing, he seemed so young in real life. Whatever he said went unnoticed under the weight of his presence, halfway through his words Justin turned his head into the room and called out, “Hey, Beck…!”
Thom slowly trailed off, now Channing had come to his senses and darted back into the trailer, feet stomping loudly; Justin turned back toward Thom. He held out one hand and said, “Don’t go anywhere, just hang on.”
Did he successfully whore Beck out after all? Was this because of that time he’d contacted Nigel?
Thom gazed into the trailer, embarrassed and confused; odd, how he’d not really had to explain much before these guys realized exactly what he was there for.
There came muffled sounds from somewhere inside, Beck and Chan fighting, growing louder as they approached the main room—
Then Beck stopped in his tracks.
Outside the trailer, breeze rustled through Thom’s hair, the loose fabric of his shirt, he’d got even thinner than before. Beck paced slowly toward the entrance, Justin making way, Chan partway to clever commentary.
“Shut up, Channing,” Beck murmured, voice dry at the back of his throat, he walked dreamlike to the door.
Thom grinned, feeling daft, still bouncing as he gazed aside, and Beck was reminded how his weird eye looked from up close.
What are you doing here?
The words never came; he smiled stupidly back.
“Good show,” Thom said, running one hand through his spiky hair, and Beck nodded back as though somehow confused. “Thanks,” he said. Justin and Channing watched in a daze as Beck fumbled one arm into his flannel, then another, and stepped outside with Thom. There echoed the low sounds of footsteps down the trailer ramp, growing fainter, Justin and Chan staring mutely out the window after them.
Thom and Beck walked in silence for a long time. Neither really looked at the other, both oddly tongue-tied, uncertain where to begin. Uncertain just what it was between them, whether they ought to be talking at all. Anything they could say would sound trite, your record was really good, or your show today was brilliant, or, why haven’t you kept in touch, man, fuck you.
Their footsteps glittered gold on the pavement. Despite everything, there remained between them the sweetest sort of silence, Thom’s hands in his pockets, Beck’s hair whipping in the wind. Parked buses and drunken shouts and scattered trash, two children pacing a moonlit playground.
They each were reminded the other was really just human.
“I wanted to see your show,” Beck spoke up, voice somehow cumbersome against the night air; Thom gazed sideward in his direction. “When you came to LA. You guys sold out, though.”
Thom regarded him curiously, somehow surprised. He wasn’t even gonna go to the festival, not till Michael brought it up. He tried to think back to their show at the Hollywood Bowl, but only remembered how miserable he had been touring. Now that Beck mentioned it, though, he found he was oddly touched, he was sheepishly smiling.
“You remembered us,” he said, and Beck watched him incredulously, shaking his head. How could anyone not remember something like that?
“Yeah,” he said simply.
They walked alongside a wire fence, Thom’s fingertips absently trailing the woven mesh squares, “Our shows are shite, mate, you didn’t miss much.”
Beck grinned. “Yeah, you’re probably right.”
They paused to gaze past the fence to the lawn on the other side, lit by high, fluorescent lights, sprinklers in the grass. Beck wove his fingers through the wires, skin going white as he clung hard, leaning backward. When he was a kid, he and Channing could easily climb these things, he could still make it over the top in, like, five seconds if he tried.
Thom stared through, as well, the rubbery front of his trainers going up against the fence, making it squeak a little. He pressed his face to the wires, nose sticking in-between.
“Everything’s so clean in Canada,” Beck remarked. It sounded absurd, what with all the trash rolling around the park from before.
He and Thom regarded each other, fluorescent light from the lamps unnaturally washing them over. Thom’s shirt too loose on his body, his clavicle showing white where the top button gave way to the collar; Beck’s cheeks were puffy, he squinted against the batting strands of his hair.
Fingers still interwoven in the wire squares, Thom turned his head toward him; Beck stilled, childlike, hair still batting.
I missed you
It came very soft in the space between them, inhumanly innocent as they kissed.
They felt blindly for one another, experimental and tentative, like whatever they had was entirely pure.
“I want to play together,” Thom said, one hand on Beck’s mandible, gentle on his cheek; it was what Nigel had told him long before, and Thom was now certain he’d been right. Beck wasn’t sure what to say; he’d only just begun touring, he’d not been motivated for his record in months;
Not until today, that was, until after his performance. Really, it began the night before, when Thurston took him in.
“Yeah, all right,” he said, leaning back into the fence, one hand prying absently at the wires. Thom lightly bit at his lip. “Sometime. Maybe.”
“Come see us on tour,” Thom asked, now Beck tugged at his collar, impatient to kiss him despite himself. He’d prepared to say something, but Thom spoke up again, “Never mind tickets, just come.”
Some distance away, Thurston and Stipey made their way in-between the trailers. They regarded Beck and Thom from afar, silhouettes in black and blue against the halogen lights against the fence.
“What have you done to him?” Michael asked with gentle amusement.
“Nothing,” Thurston said. “He did that by himself.”
(On to Chapter 13)
- 11
- 12
- 13
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Thom/Beck - Part 2