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Falling in love is so uncool	By : fundamellie Category: Singers/Bands/Musicians > Pet Shop Boys Views: 1101 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know the celebrity I am writing about. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Everything had been perfectly alright until we came backstage that night after the concert. It had been the last concert of the American leg of our first world tour; the show had gone down well and I could still hear the crowd clapping and cheering as I made my way through the corridors leading to our dressing rooms. Chris was laughing behind me and I was grinning as well. There was going to be a huge party that night and there would be no interviews or photo sessions and no show for the following two days. Only the transatlantic flight to Düsseldorf and a quiet day at the hotel.
The spirits were high backstage. Everybody was laughing, fooling around and handing out drinks. I was still in my white suit complete with the angle’s wings but had removed the Stetson and was fumbling around with it. Nervous energy due to the after-show high, I guess. Dainton, our bodyguard, emerged from somewhere and told me what outrageous things some fans had said to him, hoping it would get them backstage passes. I was laughing at his descriptions and then I noticed him. A tall, slightly skinny guy with a screw cut and a tight fitting black T-shirt who was standing in the half open door to Chris’ dressing room talking to somebody I could not see. Chris said something to him and he turned around. He caught my eye and flashed me a most dazzling smile before he looked at Chris and began talking to him. I stood transfixed. I did not notice that Dainton was already five steps ahead, gesturing at me to move on. I also did not notice what Chris and that guy were talking about. All I noticed was that this guy had amazingly beautiful eyes.
Give me someone with nice eyes and a beautiful smile and I will melt. And melt I did just staring at this guy. His eyes were huge and of a brilliant dark grey, like polished pebbles. His smile flashed up every other second during his conversation with Chris, more often than not directed at me. This smile made his eyes sparkle, bared flawless white teeth and seemed to transform his whole features. He looked serious and funny; stern and sympathetic. A little bit of tough boy attitude in his poses and a good natured wickedness in the sparkle of his eyes.
I tried to find a word to describe him but for once I was lost for words.
He was… Handsome? Good looking? Fascinating? No; I decided against all of those terms even though he was all of that. The term that I was stuck with was desirable.
He was desirable. The thought irritated me because it was something I don’t usually think. In my mind sex is still something personal, intimate. Something emotional.
Not some casual way to pass the time at the weekend. I guess what I’m trying to say is that I usually have to know people to consider them desirable. Any yet… And yet I found that guy desirable.
Dainton shook his head and waved at me to get moving. Chris slapped my back and said something like I should not fall asleep on my feet and I snapped out of my trance.
I blinked and caught the guy watching me watching him. I turned my head slightly, trying to hide the blush. The youngster threw me a strange look and a cheeky grin and touched my shoulder briefly before he turned to go.
“See you at the party, Neil,” he almost whispered into my ear and then he was walking away down the corridor. I stared after him for a moment, feeling both thrilled and irritated. Then I turned back to Chris I did my best to look totally at ease.
“Who was that?” I asked in what I hoped was a conversational tone.
“Stephan,” Chris answered. “No, wait. Tom. Thomas Stephan. He’s our DJ for tonight.”
“You hired a DJ for the party?” I asked in amazed disbelieve. Right, if we could request hotel rooms with grand pianos we surely could hire a private DJ. Sometimes these things still baffle me.
“Yeah, well, not hired,” Chris explained. “His cousin is a friend of one of our dancer’s boyfriend and he said that Tom would do it for fun. He’s only starting to get his DJ set together and he’s a bit of a fan, so no big deal!”
A fan. Oh. I thought that explained everything. That that had been the reason why he had looked at me that strangely. No big deal indeed. So why the hell did I feel disappointment settle down in my stomach like some vile liquor?
Chris grinned at me. “Hot bloke, huh?”
His comment almost caused me to blush again. I shrugged my shoulders and faked indifference.
“He’s alright.”
“Alright!” Chris grinned again. “If you say so.” He winked at me and then disappeared into his dressing room. I finally followed Dainton down the corridor and into my own dressing room. I kicked all the people out who were lingering there, closed the door and poured a glass of champagne. I drank it down at once, feeling slightly calmer afterwards. Then I changed out of my stage outfit. Standing there amidst the otherwise empty room wearing only a T-shirt and boxers. I realized that I was thinking that it would have been nice if the hand touching my shoulder had stayed there for a bit longer. The thought made my skin tickle and me feel a little breathless. I closed my eyes briefly.
This was getting confusing. Getting a pat on the shoulder was no big deal. It was not like it had meant anything. I did not want to think about what I might have wanted it to mean. I pushed it all out of my mind, forcing myself back to reality. To be sociable, cheerful and professional Neil. I changed into more comfortable clothes that included jeans and a grey shirt. I could not be bothered with a tie but still buttoned it up completely as seems to be habit of mine.
When I went back into the corridor a whole throng of people surrounded me almost at once. People were talking to me from all sides, commenting on the show, asking questions, patting me on the back and calling out my name. Some journalists said their bitchy little bits but flashed their cameras at Chris and me repeatedly regardless. Someone put a glass of wine into my hand and it never seemed to go empty no matter how much I drank. Somehow Chris and I ended up outside, in front of the venue’s backdoor being mobbed by a group of fans. Screaming girls, pushing boys, holding their cameras above their heads; taking vague pictures in the dark. Countless outstretched hands gesturing; some even tugging at my sleeves. Shouting and cheering all around me. Pleas for kisses and autographs. I saw Chris sign some out of the corner of my eyes and I did the same. Then Dainton moved away from me to guide Chris over to one of the waiting cars and for a long moment the crowd closed around me and the kids seemed to be everywhere. I felt panic rising. For an odd instant it felt like being stuck in a lift.
Then Dainton was back at my side, pushing them backwards a little. We were getting closer to the other waiting car. The next thing I knew was that I was sitting in that car, which was slowly moving through the darkness. Sylvia was talking to me and I had a glass of wine in my hand again. By the time we had reached downtown Toronto and the destination of our drive, my head was spinning.
We had been booked into a small club which we had all to ourselves that night. It was semi-dark inside with strobe light flashing near constantly through the thick dry ice haze which hung low about the dance floor. The mixture of that hot, dry air, the cigarette smoke and the flashing lights made my eyes itch instantly. I wished I had remembered to remove my contact lenses and to put on my glasses instead. I was not given much time to worry about that; it seemed that about a hundred people wanted to have a word with me. The dancers and backing singers all came over just for the usual after-show shoulder clapping and the unavoidable gossip Had I seen the girl in the front row who had thrown her bra on stage? Or the supposed transsexual with that horrible wig?
On it on it went; not that I minded. It is always fun having these discussions. That night it was simply that my mind was somewhere else entirely. Back in that corridor; with that hand too quickly withdrawn from my shoulder. I stole glances of our DJ, watching him behind his turntables when I was convinced he would not notice. I did not go over to Tom to talk to him or gave any other indication to let him know that I had noticed his presence. Maybe I was simply avoiding him but for what reason I could not have said.
I had a good time anyway; talking and joking and laughing with people I did not know very well but whom I spend almost 24 hours of every day with at the moment. The hours passed in a flash and though I had been drinking quite a bit of wine and Champagne I did not feel tired or drunk enough to retire to the hotel. The nervous energy still lingered and at the same time I caught myself waiting, hoping for something. Not that I was admitting it even to myself back then. Oh no.
One of the girls from our make up department had dragged me onto the dance floor and I was dutifully dancing with her to some mindless techno tune that seemed to go on forever. Suddenly I felt a shove from behind, someone’s bum banging against my own a couple of times. It unbalanced me slightly and when I turned around to see who was fooling me I stared into those pebble eyes once more. My little bossy remark died halfway out of my mouth. Tom grinned at me and moved closer, right into my personal space. His feet stepped between mine, our knees were touching. He thrust his hips against mine teasingly and for a second I thought I felt something hard brush against my thigh. He was so close that I could feel the heat radiating from his sweat-drenched body. Another of his wicked grins, a quick wink and he had turned and was quickly marching back to his turntables. I heard the make up girl laugh behind me.
“What does that guy think? That you’re some kind of poof or what?”
She giggled some more but started to dance again when the bass of the next track kicked in. I felt torn for a long moment. Torn between shouting at her for having said something so utterly stupid and going after Thomas. Torn between telling her in no uncertain terms that even though it was not public knowledge, I was indeed a poof but still preferred to be address in a less offending, homophobic way and wanting to say or do something that would stop Tom from walking away from me. In the end I did neither and just shot them irritated or murderous glances and walked away. I went back to the bar where I found Dainton watching me. He grinned at me and shook his head. It was a gesture which reminded me of a good-natured teacher chiding a disobedient school-boy.
I ignored his questioning glances and got myself another glass of wine.
Some more time passed while I was in conversation with some of the dancers. I grew more and more restless. I remember watching Tom out of the corner of my eyes, desperately trying not to let him notice. At one point, when I was watching him working the desks Chris came up to him and I saw them talking. Their heads were close together, they were speaking into each other’s ear because of the surrounding notice. I saw Tom nodding and Chris joint him in the DJ booth. Tom lay down his headphones and then looked up. He caught me watching him again and flashed me another of those dazzling smiles. Then he took his beer bottle and drank a sip. Before he put it back down he did something with the neck of the bottle and his mouth which could not even remotely be described as drinking. All the way he kept his eyes locked with mine. I felt myself blush rather fiercely and abruptly turned my back on him. I was irritated and – to my own horror – feeling a little turned on by his childish display.
“Jesus!” I muttered under my breath and even that one word sounded too much like a moan.
I felt a little disorientated and panicky all of a sudden. Like I couldn’t get enough air into my lungs. I suddenly did not want to be where I was anymore; among the tour crowd, celebrating. I wanted to be alone. I wanted to clear my head. I made my way through the crowd ignoring comments and finally pushed the back door open and with a sense of relief stepped out into the night. It was quite mild outside but still cool enough to let me forget the sticky heat of the club. I stuffed my hands into the pockets of my jeans and aimlessly walked down the deserted parking lot. I took some deep breaths and tried to calm down a little bit. Which wasn’t that easy with all sorts of thoughts turning in my head.
Why the hell did that guy unsettle me that much? What nerve had he hit?
I did not have a clue but I knew that my hands had been shaking when I had left the club. I knew that my skin tingled when I thought of his brief touch or the way his hips had brushed against mine on the dance floor. I knew that if I did not stop thinking about this I would soon be standing here alone on this deserted parking lot with an erection.
Desperation was rising in my throat. How tragic had I become?
I leaned my back against the wall running around the premises and closed my eyes.
I was still too nervous to get a grip on any of my mixed up feelings. Even back then I saw nothing but images of him behind my squeezed shut lids. Images of Tom facing me, of Tom smiling, of Tom talking to Chris… Even back then nothing but Tom.
I heard footsteps approaching; the soft shuffle of trainers on tarmac. They moved into my direction; without haste, almost hesitantly. Then they stopped a very short distance from me. I could hear that somebody standing there breathing and making all of those little sounds one makes while waiting. A scratch of the head, a shuffle of feet, a soft cough. I must have thought it was Chris who had searched me out and wanted to drag me back to the party. I must have thought it was him who was watching me in this slightly bemused way of his. I must have expected my friend to say something about me being ‘moody Neil’ again. I must have assumed all of this or I would have opened my eyes sooner. But I could not be bothered; I needed that moment of quiet, that moment of reflection.
“Are you doing okay, man?” an almost unfamiliar voice asked into the darkness and gave me quite a start. It had been the voice of a young man; a deep voice, sounding rather male. Thick American accent with that typical slur of the words. A rather pleasant voice, I decided somewhere at the back of my head while I blinked and inhaled sharply.
I nodded, fearing for a second I would not be able to reply now that I once more found Tom standing directly in front of me. He was watching me intently and there was the strangest expression on his face. Part concern, part amusement and maybe even part arrogance. I remember thinking that he really seemed to be quite an irritating youngster. It was back then when I labelled him to be my ‘young offender’.
“Yes, I’m okay,” I finally answered only to stare right into those amazing dark grey eyes of his. I didn’t realize it then, but I was hooked.
“Just saw you leave. Looked like you were in a bit of a hurry and I thought I’d better check in case you’re sick or something.”
I smiled at him. Something about his words touched me and – maybe foolishly – made me approve him for other reasons than his lean body and dazzling smiles.
“You needn’t worry,” I assured him. “I’m really fine. I just needed a bit of fresh air and an escape from all of that noise.”
Tom nodded. “Yeah, it’s still quite pleasant out here. Quite mild for Toronto at night, actually. Hope, I didn’t give you a headache with my tunes.”
He still faced me but his face expression had changed. Now he looked curious and expectant, almost like a kid who can’t wait to tell you about an ‘A’ he got at school.
I arched an eyebrow. “The truth?”
He nodded. I shrugged my shoulders.
“Well, to be honest I’m not really into hard house or techno or whatever you call it these days. I found the tracks a bit boring, but then I like a bit of melody. But your set was alright and it did not give a headache.”
Tom chuckled about my last remark but nodded his head gravely.
“There’s nothing like an honest criticism. In fact I like that about people. In fact…” He let his voice drop and took a step closer so that he was now barely an arm’s length away from me.
“In fact I think it’s quite a turn on!”
Once more he made me blush but he did not give me time to worry about that. Suddenly his hands were resting on my shoulders, were caressing my neck, urging me closer still. He looked directly into my eyes, searching for some kind of signal. Whatever he had been looking for, he must have found it in my face expression because the next thing I knew was that his mouth was covering mine with a bruising kiss. I felt the warm pressure of his lips, the scratchiness of his chin and it made me shiver. My mind went blank. I let him slip his tongue into my mouth without hesitation or resistance. He kissed me fiercely, deeply and after a stunned moment of passivity I kissed him back in the same frantic manner. My hands had moved to the back of his head, cupping and stroking it. I felt the stubble of his 8mm cut underneath my palms. I remember suddenly feeling very much alive, buzzing with energy. I was out of breath too soon and my jaw began to hurt but it did not matter. I liked the feel of his tongue probing, tasting, mapping out my mouth and I liked doing the same with his. I liked the small touches of his hands and I liked how his body felt underneath my touch. Eventually his hands dropped from my shoulders and reappeared trying to open the zip of my jeans. Tom fumbled with it for a moment but then pulled it down and sneaked a hand between it and my underpants.
He pressed his palm against the length of my half hard cock. Before I could think or fight for self control, I found myself thrusting forward, as if silently begging for a stroke, a firmer touch. I heard myself moan and that clicked something in my brain. What on earth was I doing? To let something so private happen in such a public place.
“No, stop. Stop that now,” I demanded. Speaking proved to be quite difficult with Tom’s tongue still deep inside of my mouth. I managed to push him back far enough so that he had to break the kiss. For a second something flashed up in those pebble eyes, something dangerous.
“Not… not here,” I panted.
Tom took half a step backwards and tilted his head to on side. Damn him, why did I feel like he was daring me again?
“Where then?” He asked; the barest hint of mockery in his voice.
“Back into the club? To the toilet maybe?”
“No!” I cut in too quickly, sounding horrified. “No,” I repeated, trying to read his face expression. It was hard now, as if it had been carved out of stone. Closed and cold.
“What about my room?”
My words hit my ears and I could not believe what I had just said. For a long moment Tom’s expression did not change then he gave the smallest nod. A flicker of surprise in those eyes and then he grinned at me.
“Okay, your room it is then!”
For a second or so I felt dizzy, totally overwhelmed by what had happened so far and what implications my remark had. Overwhelmed by the intensity of what I was feeling. Not that I dared to consider what I was really feeling beyond the level of immediate and desperate desire. No, I did not want to think about that but I was acutely aware that I wanted him. Badly. That I was about to break one of my personal rules – never get involved with a fan – and was not able to give a toss about it.
To hell with rules and vows and commandments! I was not going to let those rule my life forever. I was prepared to take chances for once; I was lonely and I was turned on.
I did not want to go to bed alone that night, even if I would be leaving the continent alone the next day. I blinked and found him still watching me.
“Yes, my room it is,” I confirmed, more to myself that to him and busied myself with zipping up my pants. I felt my head clear a little when I was not looking into those pebble eyes.
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Falling in love is so uncool