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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
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Jonny and Thom lay like a couple of kids who’d been up to no good. Totally naked save for one sock on Thom’s foot, snickering into each other for the really bad things they thought they had done. Speaking in loud whispers even though they were alone in the room.
Thom had not said so, but he’d gone spontaneously in a transient good mood, inexplicably, something that came and would pass on its own without his discretion, the show they had coming up was less realistic somehow.
“Let’s stay in bed all day,” he murmured to Jonny, hair in a mess, face pressed to the pillow so his cheek stretched grotesquely on the fabric.
“It’s night now,” Jonny said, “we’re meant to stay in bed.”
“Tomorrow, then.”
Jonny’s dark eyes glinted in the orange light in the room. He shook his head like he were confused, “All day tomorrow?” he asked.
“Yeah.”
“What, play lying down?”
“Yeah, we’ll bring the amps in here—” Thom rolled onto his side, one arm jutted out to point to the space between the bed and the wall, “—just there— I think there’s an electrical socket—”
Now Jonny rolled onto his stomach to get a better view.
“What, just there?” he pointed to the space. “Yeah, all right, we could do that—”
“Get the rest of the band in here, too?” Thom asked.
“There’s no room, Cozzie takes up the whole bed,” Jonny said.
“All right, almost the whole band, then.”
“All right, let’s do that.”
“Reckon we can do the show in bed, too?”
“Thom—” Jonny laughed, snickering at the implication neither had realized the words would carry.
“Yeah, we couldn’t fit more than—” Thom appeared to evaluate the available space, counting in his mind, “—more than thirty people in here, tops.”
“Thirty! You’d be lucky to fit ten—”
“We’re already sold out to far more,” Thom appeared introspective, “guess we’ll have to get out of bed sometime…”
“Shame, that.”
There was mutual understanding in the air of what they’d done together. It hung heavy with implication like something unreal that weighed on them in an uncomfortable, curious way. Maybe it wasn’t that. Maybe it was how unsettling the whole tour was. The uncertainty of what was to come, the disconcerting doubt that maybe they’d done this whole thing wrong. There was no one to run to and seek consolation, who could say, oh, all right, you can be a famous rock band.
Oh, all right. You want it bad enough, you can be in love forever.
It became so suffocating you wanted tomorrow to come already, so you wouldn’t have to suffer the looming weight of uncertainty so long. Thom gazed at Jonny in silence, both with faces pressed uncomfortably on the pillow, the sheets and blankets a tangled mess, still too tightly inserted into the mattress in one side of the bed where they never got them out properly, the way hotel sheets are sometimes. One of Thom’s legs lay completely exposed, with what seemed like a half-assed attempt on his part to get the sheet to cover him, but it had been twisted too far and lay askew, he wasn’t bothered to straighten it properly beyond that.
He was cold there. He was cold along part of his back that lay exposed, too. Beneath the half-strewn sheets, he reached with one hand and ran just his fingertips along Jonny’s chest, he twisted his nipple slowly, Jonny merely watched without a word.
“That hurts,” he finally said, but he didn’t have him stop; it was somehow an innocent gesture. Thom had him on his back five minutes from then, staring idly at the ceiling, Jonny letting him suck at his nipples until that had hurt, too. Thom’s humid breath on his skin, the soft spikes of his hair, human flicker of eyelashes; Jonny aware Thom had let him shag him before. He seemed curiously at peace with it, like he was neither traumatized nor content.
It was almost in relief, then, that they’d digressed into a discussion of technical specifics, regarding setup for the upcoming show— corrections to tablature and timing, and where Jonny thought Thom had messed up on guitar— all while Jonny still let him suck on his nipples, Thom was surprisingly coherent despite it.
Surreal, isn’t it. Playing in front of all those people, so many times it’s routine. It becomes a curiously lonesome experience, but you can’t just quit. Thom felt sometimes he desperately wanted to, but his entire schedule for the next six months has been meticulously laid out before him, and he wasn’t certain how to handle himself.
“He’s really just a child, see,” Colin had said to Jon, Thom can hardly handle his moods; but all Jonny took from it was how well-acquainted Colin and Thom must have been for Coz to say so with such ease.
--
Why don’t we move in together?
When a guy asks you this, you don’t really know what to say. He ought to know it’s subversively dirty to ask, because then you’re the bad guy if you decline. It remained unspoken between Leigh and Beck, but what if we broke up? The question about moving in was partly a test, to see how real you believed the prospect of breaking up wasn’t.
It was dirty, because he knew she wouldn’t dare say it outright. She remained quiet for a long time, uncertain how to answer and aware the more time she spent quiet, the more tense things became, until her silence spoke for itself. She’d suspected at some point he’d ask, and was vaguely aware she’d have to have an answer prepared, but she didn’t. Either way, any excuse she might give would sound stupid and trite, like you’re over at my place all the time anyway, or but I’m so messy, or but then you’d have to move farther away from where your family lives.
Saying I’ll buy you a house at some ambiguous point in the future was safe; saying let’s get an apartment together right now wasn’t.
“Damn it, Leigh,” Beck muttered, visibly hurt, but he’d set himself up, it wasn’t fair; then he was on about how he didn’t see what the big deal was, and he’s over at her place all the time anyway, so what was the difference…?
It’s not that she wanted to break up; it was that things would get pretty fucked up if they did, and they still lived together, and that was reality. And it was dirty of him to pretend that it wasn’t, now you would leave me hung heavy between them, even though she never said she would.
Sure, it was tempting to agree to something like moving in together. Realistic and mature as you wanted to be, there’d still be sugary images threatening forth at the outskirts of your mind, about you and your boyfriend in a happy little home. Like a happy little family. She didn’t even know if she ever wanted to start a family at all, but it still seemed awfully cute, living together. Like that would mean they’d work their asses off any less. Like it would mean they’d have any more time to actually spend at home than they already do. Like they’d be any less broke. Like they’d fight any less.
Either way, she just couldn’t do it, and she thought it was lucky for Beck she was the bad guy, cause he’d be every bit as much subject to the consequences of the same bad decision otherwise.
Now she had to be extra nice to him, cause he went and got hurt, and she had to make him feel she’d not meant to hurt him. You wouldn’t know, but Beck was really a sensitive guy. You wouldn’t know, because he didn’t open up to people. Because he was shy, too.
(On to Chapter 33)
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- 32
- 33
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Thom/Beck