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Thom/Beck	By : VinylTap Category: Singers/Bands/Musicians > Radiohead Views: 2950 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not know Beck or any of the members of Radiohead. This story is a work of fiction, and I make no money or profit from it.

Chapter List
- 15
- 16
- 17
“Always.” Thom mouthed, it could have been a question or an assertion of what he might have known; his hand came on Beck’s hand on Jonny’s, he couldn’t have pressed the digit any farther in, but he did. There was something like a snarl at the corner of his mouth, very subtle, Jonny’s finger was very long inside—
“Always, on stage?” Thom asked, voice breathy but strained, expiration pronounced between them.
“Yess,” Jonny lisped, Thom’s hand painful on Beck’s hand on his, too tight, he could see in Thom’s expression that he could barely take it—
“On stage tonight?”
Thom’s mouth was on Jonny’s;
“Yess—”
He closed the distance between them, biting Jonny’s lip as they kissed. Jonny still was reaching for him when he withdrew, leaning into his temple, still holding his finger tightly inside;
“This isn’t one of those things— people just say at the heat of the moment— is it—”
It came laden with dangerously cognizant tones of concern, and Jonny’s heart sank at the awareness he’d said too much.
“Thought you was drunk,” he said, feeling his pulse in his ears.
“Was I not meant to know?”
Thom could feel Jonny try to pull away. His hand came tight on Beck’s on Jonny’s hand again, and Beck actually yelped in pain, caught somewhere between them.
“The fuck is wrong with you two?”
he muttered, and Thom and Jonny didn’t know. There was combined animosity and despair between them, and something cruelly inexorable. Jonny was trapped in the humiliation that his heart was irreversibly bared, that Thom had registered with unexpected clarity what Jonny never should have said aloud.
The urge to take it back was irresistible— but now it was too late.
“No, you weren’t meant to know.”
Beck acted without Thom’s hold on his wrist; he pulled Jonny’s hand out a little, then farther in. His eyes met Thom’s, watching him stiffen momentarily with impact.
“So let him already. Bro, you started this, now you’re just being a dick.”
Out the corner of his eye, Beck could see Jonny turn away in embarrassment. What Beck said was true, but there was too much at stake to say it aloud, Jonny felt an urgency to protect Thom before he tried to back out.
If he changes his mind, I’ll never forgive you, he whispered to Beck.
“He won’t change his mind,”
It had been plain to anyone who saw Thom and Jonny together that Thom wanted it, too.
You could tell by Thom’s expression that he was trying. He plainly didn’t know what he was doing wrong, but he wanted to be good. He didn’t get defensive. Jonny, you’re weird, it was on the tip of his tongue, but he was somehow aware he shouldn’t say it. He should’ve said I want it just as much, or I’ve always secretly loved you, or from now on, I’ll never hurt you—
—but none of these things were true. It wouldn’t occur to Thom to say them, anyway. And yet, what it would have cost to say stuff like that before it was true was minuscule compared with what Jonny would suffer at being denied.
You feel things, and you don’t understand them, but you feel them all the same; you rationalize and delude yourself into pretense of control, so that you would be right. It is a dreadful thing to realize the good guy you thought you were may really be self-serving, and it’s a dangerous belief to surrender into, because your confidence crumbles after that. And if you don’t take care of yourself, no one will.
It is impossible to step forth without illusions. But it is basic human nature to see betrayal where there had been lies. So you lie to yourself, and you never admit to yourself that you did.
Thom could not have been a bad guy, or he never would be a genius, and accomplished what he had, and led everyone the way he did; that he suffered however was clear. He was a creature comprised of emotion. It would be dangerous to feel the encompassing pain of all there really was.
It wasn’t a simple matter of being nice to Jonny, because he denied to himself so completely that he hurt him at all. He was a good guy, or he couldn’t make plans and pursue or step forth. You don’t find out until after you’ve destroyed everything you could have done right— because no one ever tells you— but humility can be a dangerous thing.
It feels much safer, doesn’t it, when things like humility and truth are just good on an absolute scale, at least then you have guidance as far as what you should do, and as whether or not you are good— no one would tell you there’s virtue in delusion or arrogance or denial, and even folks who accomplished the unattainable might not really understand who they were that allowed them to achieve. No one wants to believe it, anyway. Surely, folks got there some other way, and that’s denial, too.
You get disgusted with yourself because somewhere in the back of your mind, you know. Thom was never really happy.
No one with secrets ever really laughs.
This isn’t about you.
Let the experts work, because the world needs experts. Everything’s relative, experts know they’re just human beings, but it’s impossible to step forth without illusions. People have a finite capacity to tolerate pain. They can’t handle the burden of really believing some things are real, it sounds an awful lot like self-serving drama, it sounds like attention-seeking, that’s really how it sounds. If you’re the one it happened to, it can’t have been real. If it were someone else, there must be some kind of resolution, it would be too exhausting living day to day believing something else. It all sounds like clichés you’ve heard too often before, and you find yourself stunned when you live through a world of experience only to arrive at those same conclusions through some convoluted path.
At this early point in life, they felt everything— but they didn’t really understand. You never think what you do so early on could ever really matter. Sure, adulthood would come, but clearly not for a while.
It’s not like Beck knew them all that well back then; he felt what was between them, and acted on feelings before he really understood. It’s a hollow thing to know someone’s really trying, but can’t help you. Infatuation was really such a wretched thing.
Thom’s eyes danced under the gentle fall of his hair, he really wanted to be good.
“Yeah, all right,” he said, “I’ll take care of you, Jon-Jon.”
It was something too patronizing to be taken at face value, and Jonny felt angry with himself for letting down his guard after so many years of meticulous restraint. It was too late to say it wasn’t really what he’d wanted— but he couldn’t very well hold his resentment back.
“I just wanna fuck you, Thom, that’s all.”
Beck hung his head in defeat; what could have been between Thom and Jonny had irreversibly collapsed.
Thom blinked, his lazy eye always seemed to go slow when he did that; there was something threatening forth in his throat that was pain. He’d not realized he’d actually meant what he’d said until Jonny turned him down.
“Yeah,” he nodded, “All right, do it, then.”
The fuck is wrong with you two…?
I hate him, Jonny never said so, but it was written all over his face. Beck helped him with something like the human compassion of holding someone’s hair while they’re throwing up drunk. Buddy, I’ve been there, let’s do this, come on.
He knew practically nothing about guys getting with guys, but at that point, it didn’t seem to matter. How it played out emotionally versus the undeniable physical hunger were two different things, but there was all of it there.
“You wanna do it, I know,” Beck whispered to Jonny, subtly, so Thom wouldn’t see, I won’t do it for you. Jonny’s gaze followed the motion of Beck’s various limbs as he slowly unraveled himself, releasing hold of Jonny’s hand, there came the whisper of expiration when Jonny slid the digit out.
There were no words exchanged between them. Thom watched with what must have been curiosity, and also careful restraint— it would be his first time, but he was afraid to say anything more. Whatever had happened between them was very fragile, he was learning the impact of his own thoughtless words.
Watching him, Beck understood that, really, it wasn’t Thom’s fault. He hadn't meant to be a dick. Beck remembered how Thom had carelessly sung to him, they love me like I was a brother—
—Thom didn’t dare sing now; he remained dutifully quiet. He looked on as Jonny, inwardly repulsed enough with himself, had found strength to detach himself from his own encompassing emotions.
But even despite the hard restraint he’d put up, there was undeniable fascination, it was Thom, after all, and this was what Jonny had always wanted. He wanted desperately to hurt him back, but the temptation to revel in being with him was irresistible, when the loving comes and we’ve already—
Neither dared to speak up, but their hands were unnaturally delicate together, they each glanced, cringing in advance at what the other hadn’t said, fighting visibly from allowing some careless sound or remark to imply uncouth anticipation—
Thom looked through his hair apologetically, hand on Jonny’s hand on Jonny’s member, in a way that made Jonny stare up, breath frozen, mouth open partway, he relinquished control, he let Thom do it.
Thom waited, Jonny moved closer, Thom brought the member to his entrance, their fingers intertwined and slick and wet, too profane for so fragile a moment—
They stared at each other, as in disbelief, both fighting for grace, to breathe without being too loud, Beck could tell because he saw how deliberately slowly Thom’s chest had moved—
He couldn’t see Jonny’s face, it was obscured by his hair when his head tilted down, he could tell they looked at each other, that, despite himself, Jonny let on that it mattered—
—it’s in—
He couldn’t see their faces, but the air weighed tangibly with the softest, softest surrender all the same.
(On to chapter 17)
Songs: Nice Dream and Sulk by Radiohead (The Bends 1995)
- 15
- 16
- 17
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Thom/Beck