February 6th, 2014. The day of the O2 concert had finally come.
The night before had been nearly impossible to sleep. We hadn’t had sex, but we’d cuddled and talked for hours, going over every detail we could think of. We wanted everything to feel perfect. Of course, there would always be things we couldn’t control during the show, and that was fine, but we wanted to be ready for whatever came our way.
We also talked about how far we were both willing to go to show the fans that we were a couple. We knew many of them were hoping for some “Myemers” action. Would we kiss on stage? Comment on each other between songs? Share a look during certain lyrics? We didn’t want to plan every little thing, some moments were meant to be spontaneous, but at least we agreed on what we were both comfortable doing and saying in front of the crowd.
Rob, of course, had warned me that I might get embarrassed a lot if he actually said some of the things running through his twisted mind. But honestly… I decided I’d just let him surprise me.
When I woke up, I was surprised we’d managed to sleep at all, let alone so peacefully, given the excitement and adrenaline still buzzing through our veins. I woke up before Rob. He was only wearing boxer briefs under the covers. He had his back to me but seemed to be still asleep. I was hard. Not only that but my morning wood was throbbing as I began to rub my hand against it. I pulled down my own boxer briefs and it stood upright, leaking precum. I began stroking my uncut cock, feeling the head become stickier each time the foreskin moved back.
I moved closer to Rob and ran my hand over his shoulder blades, placing small kisses on his soft golden skin and slowly sliding my hand down and under his briefs until it was on his firm ass cheek. I squeezed it tight, feeling his muscles, which gave me an adrenaline rush. Fuck, I was excited. I pressed my body even tighter against his own and he started to wake up.
“What're you doing?” Rob breathed with a smile, still lying on his side, turning his head slightly to look at me.
"Oh babe, fuck, I need you," I breathed as I kissed the back of his neck and pressed my cock against the fabric of his underwear, horny as hell.
"Yeah," he groaned, sensing my horniness.
My hand left his firm butt and moved up to caress his pec and pinch his nipple, before traveling down to his rock hard abs. Somehow, my thoughts drifted back to the concert- and to the twenty thousand people who would be cheering for him, watching him, hanging on his every move. Another surge of adrenaline shot straight through me.
I slid my hand down to his cock and squeezed it firmly before pulling down his underwear. I needed to have him, to fuck him maybe, I didn't know, I just needed him, badly. I was now oozing precum like crazy, and I let my cock run up and down his crack. My erection was throbbing with need and anticipation.
"Oh God, Mark," he groaned with hunger, still a bit sleepy, having just woken up but he could for sure feel how bad I wanted him and how sexually excited I was.
I rubbed my dick harder against him and it brushed past his hole but didn't go in.
Soon, he was fully awake though, including his cock. When I started sliding my hand up and down his shaft, he turned around urgently, flipped me on my back and straddled me while he humped his cock against me, giving me what I needed. He shoved his tongue into my mouth, his hand grasping my face.
I responded immediately by kissing him harder than he was kissing me, and grabbed the back of his head. We kissed hungrily, sucking, licking, tongues wrestling, so overwhelmed with lust and desire that I wasn't sure what to do next.
My hands roamed up and down his strong back and I grabbed, squeezed and massaged his ass cheeks with both hands. I wanted to do all sort of things to him, to lower my mouth onto his cock and let it slide down my throat or to lower my face into the crease of his ass and push my tongue deep into his tight hole, making him moan until he would beg me to fuck him. Instead, all I was able to do was to pull him hard into me and move my body up and down underneath him as he humped against me, moaning uncontrollably. We held each other tight and kissed passionately, gasping for air, panting and whimpering.
Our cocks were sliding all over our stomachs, leaking, wet with precum. I didn't know what to do with myself. I needed to get off so badly that I just didn't know what I wanted anymore. I felt overwhelmed and too excited to even talk. Breaking our tight grip on each other to get the lube or even suck each other off was out of the question. I couldn't let him go and he felt the same way. There was an urgency in our moans that told me we were not gonna last very long. I could feel his cock poke me in the stomach and the friction against my own cock was bringing me close.
He sucked my earlobe, sending chills down my body and I raised my knees to wrap my legs around him. I locked my legs on each side of him and we simultaneously pulled each other closer.
"Oh fuck, I need you so bad," I moaned, as I used my tongue to part his lips.
He opened his mouth and his tongue met with my own. They swirled around each others, as I felt the pleasure increasing within me. I was so hard, it literally hurt.
"I'm here. I'm here," he panted as his mouth left mine and fastened on my neck and traveled down my shoulders.
I suddenly felt the need to take control again so I used my legs and arms to roll him over onto his back, and we continued kissing hungrily, not really able to stop, until I looked down at his hot torso and I ached to worship it.
His arms lifted and he grasped the headboard behind him as I started sucking on his nipples, causing him to moan in delight. I looked up briefly to see his arms flexed, thinking that there were few sights as hot as a naked man with his hands behind his head.
As I continued thrusting my cock against him, he opened his legs and raised his knees. The base of my penis slid over his balls and in between his ass cheeks. I was aching for release. My pole was slick with sweat and precum and it easily slid back and forth between his silky cheeks. It felt amazing. His body trembled and he pulled me closer to him, tightening his legs around me.
"Oh, fuck me babe. Fill me with your cock!" he pleaded.
I started thinking about lubrication but I was too overcome with passion to get the lube and he knew that. He spat in his hand and urgently reached down for my cock, making it even more wet and slippery than it already was. I looked down at his cock. It was engorged and leaking profusely, wetting his stomach. I grabbed his legs and pulled him toward me as he raised his knees. I guided my cock to his hole and pushed it inside him.
"Holy shit," he grunted loudly, making me stop to make sure he could take it but finding it hard not to slam into him, pound his ass and fuck him deep to finally spill my load inside him. I was feeling so caught up in the intensity of the moment that I was ready to explode at any moment.
"Fuck, yeah, shove it in me." he arched his back and pushed back against me.
He sighed and moaned sensually as I pushed all the way into him. My body shivered as I entered him and my cock was so fucking hard that it was throbbing inside him, his ass was as warm and tight as ever. I would have loved to sink my cock deep inside him forever and fuck him to orgasm but I didn't think I'd be able to last long enough to make him cum.
"Oh fuck Rob, I'm gonna fuckin' cum," I moaned with a sense of desperation.
"Oh yeah, cum in me, just do it," he urged, grabbing my back to pull me hard into him,
"Oh, deeper. Your cock feels so hard!" I could feel him clenching the walls of his anus, urging me to pound into him.
We crashed our mouths together in another hot kiss as I started thrusting hard and deep. His hand ran down my back and I grabbed his hair. When I broke the kiss, I slowed down, trying to resist the urge to cum, he exhaled loudly and small smiles spread across our faces. His eyes were twinkling as we looked lustfully into each other's eyes. I needed to get off so bad, I immediately began to rock my hips again, thinking that I could try as hard as I could, I wouldn't be able to hold off.
I fucked his hole and tapped his prostate, knowing I was about to explode and he moved beneath me with an urgency of his own. I took a few more strokes in and out and I felt myself start to shoot, my toes curling up. My body shuddered in complete ecstasy as I let my orgasm overtake me,
"Oohhh... ohh fuck," I cried out, burying my face into the crook of his neck, "I, ohh Rob, ahhhh," I groaned low and long, filling up his ass and we grabbed onto each other.
I enjoyed the incredible feeling of release, panting heavily. It took a while for my orgasm to subside and when it did, I was almost relieved that the intensity was over. I kept fucking him after I stopped ejaculating, not really wanting to come back to reality when I felt another dry, second orgasm rip though me. I shuddered again and kept rocking slowly in and out, feeling almost dizzy.
Once fully spent, I brought my hand to his hardness and tightened my grip on him, determined to get him off as hard as I could. Sweat was beading up on his forehead as he continued to enjoy my cock inside of him. I stayed buried deep and slowly thrust my hips, barely pulling out before pushing back in to massage his prostate. Soon, he was also losing control of himself. Now it was he who had no idea where he was, no sense of space and time. He cried out, a sure sign that he was going to cum. I urged him to give it all he had. He didn't disappoint as his cock widened in my hand and rope after rope of white-hot cum spit out of his cock. I could feel it pulse with each shot, as he squirmed and convulsed beneath me, struggling for air, struggling to return to reality. When he finally came back, he looked at me, fire in his eyes, and reached out to kiss me. Slowly I pulled out of him and kissed him back then rolled off of him.
Sweaty and covered in cum, he exclaimed,
"Jeez, that was one hot fuck! A great start to a great day!"
I giggled and snuggled closer to him. I nuzzled my face into his neck and gently kissed, smelling his scent. We lay there for a few minutes, trying to slow down our heart beats but I started to feel a rush of adrenaline again, knowing we were going to feel like this on and off all day. I could tell he was feeling it too.
We didn't talk for a moment and tried to relax in our post orgasmic bliss. But the butterflies in my stomach just wouldn't stop coming and going.
I took a couple of deep breaths in and out,
I let out a dramatic groan. “Oh my god. The anticipation’s killing me already!”
Rob threw his head back with a sigh. “It’s gonna be the longest day of our lives.”
“Let’s hope not! We’ll be busy enough. The worst is always between eight and nine,” I said, trying to keep the mood light.
“Then it’s gonna be the longest hour of our lives!” he laughed, shaking his head.
“Fuck!” I groaned. “Come on, let’s get a move on. I can’t lie in bed, I need to get busy!”
Laughing, we finally got up and started getting ready. By eleven a.m., we were heading to Damon’s place, then all together to the arena for soundcheck.
First, though, we stopped for brunch. Our support band wasn’t due to rehearse until at least one or two, so there was no rush. We wanted to relax, talk, laugh, and enjoy some good food before the madness of the day hit.
Of course, no matter what we did, the conversation kept circling back to the concert. Every laugh, every comment, every bite of food somehow tied back to the stage, the fans, and the show that was about to consume us.
We had rehearsed harder than ever to be ready for the first concert of the tour - and, honestly, we did feel ready. The adrenaline and excitement were practically vibrating through us. We couldn’t wait to play the new songs live, along with the old favorites.
But wow… it was terrifying. When the album dropped, hearing people’s reactions was nerve-wracking enough. Now, performing the songs live, in front of thousands of people, watching their faces as they heard every note, that was a whole new level of scary.
It didn’t help that we hadn’t played a real live concert in over a year. Sure, we knew it would be like riding a bike, we’d find our groove as soon as we stepped on stage, but that first gig? That first moment? Nerve-wracking.
And this wasn’t just any show. It was special - our first concert after coming out publicly. Our families were coming, well, most of them. My side? Just my sister Amy would be there. Journalists, industry bigwigs, a few famous artists… all there, watching. Bono had told us he’d probably be there. And Rihanna was set to join Rob for “Princess of China” - the first and probably last time on this tour, unless our schedules magically aligned in the States.
All of it made the whole thing utterly terrifying. And, honestly, completely fucking exhilarating.
Moreover, we had taken a slightly different direction with some of our new songs, so we weren’t entirely sure how they would be received. Tracks like Hurts Like Heaven, Princess of China, or Every Teardrop Is a Waterfall - the last one about coming out- were brighter, poppier, and more energetic than our older material, which tended to be darker and focused on wrestling with emotions you can’t always control.
A lot of the lyrics on the new album were about sticking with the people you love, together as a band, as a couple, even in a world that felt chaotic and, at times, frightening. We wanted this tour to radiate happiness, joy, energy, and freedom of expression. We wanted the public to see more of who we really were - not just as a band and a group of friends, but also as Rob and me, together as a couple. Sure, people loved watching the chemistry between the five of us, but the connection between Rob and me? That was the heartbeat. And we were determined to let it shine. To capture that energy, we needed to shed our inhibitions, express everything we had, and aim for the stars.
Thanks to Rachel’s artistic influence, we were drawn to graffiti-style painting. We hired an artist and a designer she knew from school to help us transform everything - guitars, instruments, amps - into a riot of color. For the stadium tour, we planned to paint the stage floor and a massive drape for the back of the stage, all covered in luminous paint so the arena would feel like ours. There would also be spectacular lighting effects and enormous screens behind and on either side of the stage.
We wanted the audience to see that we were more than just a band, we were a gang, a family. Part of the magic people connected with was our chemistry, and we wanted that to hit them instantly. Having all our instruments painted in a unified, vivid style would visually reinforce that connection, letting the energy, color, and music explode together in one unstoppable wave.
As we stepped onto the stage, Jordan couldn’t hide his excitement.
“Man, I still can’t get over how huge this place looks from here. I can’t wait to see it filled with people!”
“Yeah, it’s incredible,” Dylan said. “There’s no one here yet, but you can feel the energy… you know what I mean?”
“Totally,” Jordan agreed, eyes wide. “I love this place!”
Rob drifted to the far left side of the stage, and after a moment, I followed him.
“You’re not freaking out, are you?” I whispered, standing behind him, my chest pressed to his back, feeling my own heart beat rapidly in my chest.
He turned his head to smile at me,
He tilted his head. “No… well, not yet.”
“Good,” I murmured, wrapping my arms around him and pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. I caught the distant glint of a cameraman filming us for backstage DVD footage, but I didn’t care. Showing affection like this - openly, casually - felt so good, and I loved it.
I leaned closer, whispering, “Hope they’re ready for this,” and couldn’t stop the grin that spread across my face. “You're gonna knock them dead. I know you will!” I whispered again, brushing my lips along his neck.
He shivered slightly and spun just enough to capture my grin. “Yeah? You nervous?” he teased, eyes sparkling.
“Not at all,” I said, smirking. “Totally calm.”
“Right…” he said with a fake sigh, clearly enjoying my obvious lie. “Calm as a hurricane, huh?”
I laughed and pressed closer. “Exactly. A calm hurricane.”
He grinned and leaned in to kiss me, soft and teasing. “Alright,” he said, pulling out his phone, “let’s do the Instagram video.”
He angled it so the empty stage stretched behind us. “Ready?”
“Yep,” I said, wrapping an arm around his shoulder.
He pressed record and, smirking at the camera, said, “Hey UNIners, we’re here, we’re queer!”
I leaned closer, letting my cheek brush his. “And as you can see, the stage’s ready! We’re about to start soundcheck.”
He finished with a grin, “If you couldn’t get tickets, tune in to Radio One for a live broadcast. Don’t miss it, it’s gonna be phenomenal!”
I pressed my lips to his cheek as he added, “See you all tonight!”
As soon as Rob stopped the recording, someone screamed my name. I whipped around to see the lead singer of our support band barreling toward us, grinning like he’d just won the lottery.
“Hey! Hi! How’s it going?” I asked, laughing at his sheer energy.
“Brilliant! Bloody hell, I’m out of control! I just can’t wait! We just finished rehearsing. The stage’s all yours now!”
“How’d it go?” Rob asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Fucking amazing!” he shouted, practically vibrating with excitement. “I think my ears are permanently damaged, even with earplugs! We’ve never played this loud before.”
“Yeah, I know,” I said with a grin. “Better get used to it!”
This band was the one I’d worked with Damien in the studio. Dylan had loved their songs right away, and since we still hadn’t found a support band we clicked with, we suggested them to Jordan and Damon. They were in immediately - they had that same raw energy that reminded me of us, and we figured it was a chance to help them get noticed.
Convincing Rob took a little more effort. It meant having another conversation with Damien, but he was outnumbered, so he didn’t put up much of a fight. I even got Dylan to call Damien for me - I didn’t have the patience to deal with him directly again.
"Mark, Rob, would you please come over here?” our tour manager called, his tone leaving no room for negotiation.
“Hey, have a good one,” Shane called after us. “We’re having a few drinks in our dressing room, come join us later if you can!”
“Oh yeah, I will,” Jordan said, grinning at the invitation.
“Uh, Jord…” Dylan interjected, wagging a finger. “Don’t you think it’d be better if you didn’t get drunk quite just yet?”
Jordan made a mock puppy face. “Yes, sir!” he joked, earning a small laugh from the rest of us.
Dylan shook his head, half-exasperated, half-amused. He hated being the band’s “dad,” but everyone knew he was. Anytime one of us looked like we were about to do something stupid, he was the first to call it out.
“Guys,” Tom called as he walked onto the stage, clipboard in hand, “we’ve got fifteen winners from the Radio One competition coming in right now. They’ll watch the soundcheck and get a meet-and-greet afterward. Don’t let them distract you. We need to be done by five.”
We nodded and got everything ready. The familiar buzz of instruments coming alive filled the stage. Rob and I stood close, leaning in as the first chords of Hearts Like Heaven rang out. We watched each other, syncing our playing, feeling that connection we’d been building all morning.
Rob sang those lyrics,
Written up in marker on a factory sign
I struggle with the feeling that my life isn't mine
It's so cold, so cold
See the arrow that they shot, trying to tear us apart
Take the fire from my belly and the beat from my heart
Still I won't let go
Still I won't let go of you, ooh-ooh
'Cause you do
Oh you use your heart as a weapon
And it hurts like heaven
…….
Yes, I feel a little bit nervous,
Yes, I feel nervous and I cannot relax,
How come they're out to get us?
How come they're out when they don't know the facts?
We stopped playing before finishing the song, deciding it sounded good enough for the moment, and started chatting about what to play next.
Rob flashed a grin at the fans who were watching us. “So, you’re watching us. This is how we actually work together. Pretty boring, huh? Don’t worry - we’ll play the rest of the song eventually.”
“Yeah, tonight around nine. Don’t go anywhere!” Jordan added with a wink.
The girls in the front grinned wildly, clearly loving the banter. We continued talking through the soundcheck - switching guitars, checking tunings. I grabbed a new guitar while Rob was handed another acoustic in a different tuning for Yellow. We joked with the roadies, making sure everything was perfect.
Finally ready, Rob turned to me, eyes sparkling. “Ready, babe?”
The instant he said it, the girls screamed bloody murder.
We both froze, bewildered. “What did I say?” Rob asked, laughing. “Babe?” He looked genuinely confused, like he hadn’t realized what he’d just done.
They screamed again, and he burst out laughing. “Oh my god, you guys are gonna go nuts if I actually kiss him!”
And then he walked over, draping an arm around my shoulder and cupping the side of my face. His lips met mine, soft and teasing, and I kissed him back with a slight smile. The girls went wild, shrieking even louder.
He pulled back, grinning at the camera and the fans, then spoke into the mic. “Now that we’ve got that out of the way, let’s play!”
Rob went back to the center of the stage, and we launched into Yellow with an upbeat energy. The first songs were meant to set the tone, get the crowd pumped, get them moving, make them feel like they were part of the show from the very first note.
By the end of the song, Rob was bouncing on his toes. “Alright, now I’m really starting to wake up!” he shouted, grinning like a kid on Christmas morning.
We spent the next two hours running through a solid set of songs, making sure every note, every cue, every transition was perfect. Rihanna arrived around four, glowing with excitement, and we rehearsed her duet once. They sang carefully, holding back just enough, but I knew that when it came time for the show, they’d turn up the passion, and it was going to be hot. Both of them were incredible performers, and I had to admit, imagining the audience watching them was making my stomach flip in anticipation.
By a little after five, we wrapped up and headed down into the pit to meet the fans. I always loved this part of the day, being able to talk to them, see their excitement, and feel the appreciation for the work we’d put in. The moment we stepped in, people started waving, holding up posters, phones, and notebooks. We signed autographs, hugged fans, joked around, and answered every question we could.
Rob began chatting with a young guy holding a guitar pick.
“Hey, aren’t you the one who does covers of our songs on YouTube?”
“Yeah, that’s me,” the guy said, grinning nervously
Rob’s grin widened. “I knew your face looked familiar! I’ve watched your covers. You actually sing The Scientist better than me.” He winked.
The guy laughed nervously. “I don’t think that’s true, but… thank you. Means a lot coming from you.”
Rob clapped him on the shoulder. “Seriously though, with a voice like that, you should be writing your own songs.”
The fan’s grin widened, proud and a little overwhelmed at the same time.
While Rob was chatting, a girl waved frantically at me. “Mark! Can we get a selfie?”
“Of course,” I said, smiling as she held her phone up and saw Rob leaning in behind me.
Then, over the chatter, a familiar voice rang out.
“Mark!” I heard someone call, and I turned to see who it was.
“Hey, you made it!” I said, spotting my sister hurrying toward me. She had her backpack slung over her shoulders, hair slightly messy from the flight, looking every bit the energetic nineteen-year-old she was.
“Yeah, my plane just landed. I jumped into a taxi and came straight here,” she said, slightly out of breath.
“That’s great! I’m so glad you’re here,” I replied, pulling her into a hug.
“Me too,” she murmured, smiling. She waved at the guys as she passed, then came back over and rubbed my arm to get my attention. Her expression softened, then turned serious.
“Uh, Mark,” she said, hesitation in her voice. “There’s something I need to ask you.”
“Yeah?” I replied, a flicker of worry creeping in.
“You might not like it,” she added cautiously.
“Why not?” I asked, bracing myself.
“I… didn’t come here alone,” she whispered, as if afraid I’d snap. “I’m here with Thomas. He’s waiting outside, at the backstage entrance. They wouldn’t let him in because his name wasn’t on the list.”
“What?” I exclaimed. “He’s here… with you?”
“Yeah. Please… don’t be mad, he really wanted to come with me,” she pleaded, looking at me with wide, nervous eyes.
“I’m not mad,” I said slowly, trying to keep my voice steady. “But… why would he even come?” I felt anger, surprise, and a little disbelief all at once.
“Because… believe it or not, he’s changed. He really feels bad about how he treated you,” Amy said softly. “He just wants to talk. Please… can we let him in? And if you don’t want to talk, at least hear him out.”
Jordan, who had been nearby, overheard and stepped in. “Is everything good here?”
“Thomas is here,” I said.
“Thomas? Your brother?” Jordan’s eyebrows shot up. “What the hell is he doing here?”
Amy looked at him, pleading silently. “He really wanted a chance to see Mark. He wants to talk to him… and apologize.”
“Apologize?” Jordan chuckled, incredulous. “Really? He’s got some nerve showing up here. You couldn’t have asked before bringing him?”
“I know… I’m sorry,” Amy said. “I didn’t think you’d want to see him.”
“Well, you got that right - we don’t!” Jordan exclaimed. “Mark doesn’t need this tonight!”
Amy sighed. “Please, guys. It’s important to me. You’re not going to make him stand outside the whole concert, are you?”
“Why the hell not?” Jordan shot back. “He kicked Mark out more than once!”
“I know what he did. I was there,” Amy said, her voice steady but soft, almost pleading.
Jordan’s expression softened slightly, though he shook his head. “Amy, do you realize how important tonight is? For us, for the audience? You couldn’t have picked a better time to show up with Thomas?”
She took a deep breath. “But… he has good intentions, I swear. Mark, he’s our brother. Don’t you want to try and make up with him?”
I hesitated. Memories of the past flashed through my mind - anger, disappointment, and the old wounds that never fully healed. It was tempting to say no, to protect myself.
“I’m… not sure I want to. No,” I finally admitted, my voice low.
Amy’s eyes softened, almost pleading. She knew about our father not being my biological father. We had talked about it before, and she understood why I carried some of that anger.
“I was mad at him too, you know,” she said quietly. “I thought he was just like Dad. But he’s changed. He’s really trying to make things better between us. And now he wants to make up with you. Please… just give him a chance.”
Her eyes held mine, pleading, earnest, and I felt the weight of it.
“Oh, come on, Amy,” Jordan said, shaking his head. “Why do you think he’s here in the first place? Because we’re successful? Because his brother and his friends turned out not to be such losers after all? What does he want out of this?”
“That’s not what this is,” Amy said quietly. “I think he’s just really proud of you.”
“Oh, really?” I asked, unconvinced. “Did he say that?”
“No.” She shrugged. “But he doesn’t need to. Why wouldn’t he be? You know, Mark, a lot of people in this family are proud of you.”
“Too little, too late,” I snapped.
“You have more people on your side than you think,” she insisted. “Claire and Sam would love to see you again. So would Don and Mary.” She paused, letting the names settle. “Not everyone thinks like Dad. I know it’s been hard, but you could have a family again if you wanted one. Even Mum’s proud of you.”
That made me falter.
“She told me she always knew you’d do something amazing with your life,” Amy went on. “I think she just doesn’t know how to fix things with you. But I know she feels terrible.”
“Some things just can’t be fixed,” I said. Still, her words had shaken me more than I wanted to admit.
Maybe the time had come to go back to Dublin, to actually step inside that house again. The guys had been back plenty of times, even Rob, but I’d always refused. I went to Dublin with them, sure, but I stayed in hotels, never set foot in our neighbourhood. I’d spoken to my mum a few times after we left for London, brief calls just to say I was alive and doing fine. They were always short, awkward, and completely devoid of warmth.
Amy nodded. “Mark, please. At least let him in.”
I sighed. “Damn it. I’m going to regret this. Fine. Let’s go.”
“Mark, wait, what’s happening?” Rob called, juggling six fans at once. The second he caught my expression, his tone sharpened, edged with worry.
“Thomas is here,” Jordan said, far too loudly.
Rob’s eyes went wide. He gently shoved a fan aside. “Wait, what? Are you serious? Oh, hell no.”
“I’m going with him,” Jordan said immediately.
“Yeah, you are,” Rob insisted, not even looking at him.
“Are you serious?” I asked.
“Yeah,” Jordan said. “You might be too soft to kick his ass.”
“Hey, I’m a big boy. I can handle it,” I said. “And I may hate him, but I’m not a jerk. I kind of want to hear what he has to say.”
“Yeah,” Jordan nodded. “Me too. And I wouldn’t mind kicking some ass. It’d calm my nerves.”
“Mark,” Rob said quietly, eyes flicking from the fans back to me. “You sure?”
“I’m sure,” I said, taking a deep breath. “I need to hear him out.”
Rob ran a hand through his hair, muttering under his breath. “I don’t like this.” He gave me a quick, helpless shrug. “Just… be careful, alright? Don’t let him throw you off.”
I went to talk to someone from security, got a pass for him, and we headed to the backstage entrance.
“Here,” I said to the security guard, showing him the pass. “You can let him in.”
I glanced at Thomas. He had changed a lot since the last time I’d seen him - older, more friendly, even.
“Thanks,” he said, shifting uncomfortably.
“Yeah, well… you’re not welcome,” I muttered.
He looked at me, then at Amy and Jordan, then back at me, fidgeting slightly. I could tell he didn’t know where to start, or what to say. We weren’t going to make it any easier for him.
Damn, he looked so grown-up. He was twenty-six now. Seeing him again stirred something I wasn’t ready for. Memories of how he had hurt me, mentally and physically.
And maybe Jordan was right. I didn’t need this tonight. Getting ready to go on stage was about delivering the best show possible for everyone out there, forgetting my own baggage long enough to perform. Dealing with this - this confrontation, just three hours before showtime - wasn’t going to make that any easier.
I watched him carefully, and he spoke first.
“Mark, I didn’t want to just call, I wanted to tell you face to face, so… here I am.”
“Alright, I’m listening,” I said, my tone sharper than I intended.
He met my eyes, shifting uneasily. He knew Amy had told me he wanted to apologize, so maybe he thought I’d make it easy for him.
“I knew you wouldn’t want to talk to me,” he said quietly. “Or to anyone but Amy. Look, I know I was an asshole to you. I know that. And I’m sorry. I don’t want to be that person anymore. I just want you to know I’m not that person anymore, okay?”
The way he said it, careful, almost hopeful, made it sound like it should be enough.
“You’re sorry?” I repeated, incredulous. “That’s it? You really think that’s enough? You don’t get to just show up and expect me to forgive and forget - not after everything you’ve done.”
He looked down, shaking his head. “This was a bad idea.”
“You’re going to need to say a lot more than ‘I’m sorry,’” I snapped. “’cause right now, I still thoroughfully hate you. So unless you have something else to say, I’ve got better things to do. Enjoy the show!” I turned and started walking away, Jordan following.
I was still angry. He was trying, sure, but he wasn’t saying what I needed to hear. My anger hadn’t gone anywhere. One apology wasn’t going to erase anything.
“Dammit. Why are you so angry? You won’t even try!”
I stopped and turned, disbelief cutting through me. “If you don’t know why I’m angry, then we have nothing left to say!”
“Come on, I flew all the way from Dublin to talk to you!”
“Oh wow,” Jordan spat. “You spent an hour on a plane. Hope it wasn’t too much trouble! Jeez, you’re such a prick.”
“Guys, please,” Amy said, stepping in, hands raised, her voice tight with panic. “This is not helping.”
“I’m sorry, Amy,” I said, calmer now, shaking my head. “I know you want this to go well, but I can’t…”
“Fucking hell, Mark,” Thomas snapped. “I’m not here to make things worse!”
“Then what are you here for?” Jordan shot back. “Want us to jog your memory? All the names? All the shit you put him through?”
“No, you don’t!” Thomas barked, throwing his arms up. “But don’t you ever say stuff you don’t really mean!”
Jordan and I exchanged a bewildered glance. I turned back to him. “Not that kind of stuff. No.”
“Hey,” he said quietly, “you’re still my brother, even if…” He trailed off, and I knew Amy had told him. “…I don’t think you’re worthless. I was just a stupid kid.”
Jordan tilted his head. “You okay with him being gay?”
Thomas let out an awkward laugh. “I… I don’t know. I guess.”
“Oh, come on,” Jordan pushed. “We all know you’re a homophobic son of a bitch. Don’t pretend.”
“I’m not!” Thomas snapped. “I can try to understand. I just, I can’t pretend it’s not weird to me. But that’s your life.”
I shook my head, the frustration burning. “And you honestly think we can fix anything if that’s how you still think?”
“Mark, I’m not like him!” he said. “I hear the things he says about you. I don’t agree with him. He’s bitter. He’s spiteful. I know I hurt you, I know that. And since Amy told me… I’ve been thinking about it. About all of it. I’m really sorry. I’m not the dickhead you think I am. When we were kids, I acted the way I thought I was supposed to. Dad was always on my side. It was easy to take it out on you.”
I tried to contain my anger as I spoke, my voice low but tense.
“You made my childhood miserable. You hurt me almost as much as he did. I don't care how many times you apologize. None of it erases what happened.”
“I know,” he said quickly, almost desperate. “I know all that. But I’m still sorry.” He hesitated, then added, “you know, I’ve got a kid now. He’s one year old.”
He let out a slow breath. “What he did to you… it was fucked up. Plain wrong. And I’m sorry I made it worse.”
For the first time, he didn’t sound defensive. He sounded honest. And that caught me off guard. I’d never expected him to be the one to take this step. I’d always known he wasn’t as closed-off as our parents, but still, I hadn’t seen this coming.
“Well,” I said finally, “I hear you. I just… don’t know what to do with that right now.”
“I get it,” he said softly. “But I really am sorry.”
Then, after a pause, he added, "you’ve done well for yourself.”
"Yeah, pisses you off, doesn't it?" Jordan said proudly.
Thomas looked away, shaking his head with a tired exhale, but didn’t rise to it.
“Excuse me,” a security guard said as he came over to us, “I'm sorry to interrupt, but we're about to open the doors now. You can't stay here. You need to get backstage, like right now,” he ordered.
“Yeah, I know,” I replied. “We won’t be long.”
“Thanks,” he said, already walking off.
“Tell him,” Thomas murmured to Amy, almost under his breath.
“No, no, Thomas, not right now,” she said quietly.
“Tell him what?” Jordan asked, immediately curious.
“Nothing, Jordan,” Amy said quickly.
“Amy,” he pressed. “Tell him what?”
Amy took a deep breath before speaking.
"We confronted mum yesterday," she said, looking at me apologetically, "I'm sorry, I know you didn't want her to know that you knew, but…"
“Fuck, Amy,” I said sharply. “Seriously?”
“We had to,” she insisted, her voice still gentle.
“And?” Jordan pressed. “What did she say?”
Amy shrugged. “Not much. She shut down. She cried a lot, but…” She trailed off, fumbling with the straps of her backpack before opening the front pocket.
“But what?” Jordan pushed.
“She gave us this,” Amy said, pulling out a small envelope and handing it to Jordan. “It’s all she had. Three pictures. Of him.”
“Fuck,” Jordan muttered, staring at it.
“She doesn’t know anything else,” Amy continued. “No last name. Nothing. He was just some guy on holiday with his mates, staying at the same campsite. She’s not lying. I really don’t think she knows more.” She hesitated. “You do look a bit like him.”
Jordan glanced at me. “You wanna see them?”
He held out the envelope, clearly itching to open it himself - but he didn’t.
“Not now,” I said quietly. I took it from him anyway and slipped it into my back pocket. Part of me was curious to look at them. Desperately so. Another part of me was terrified. I told myself I’d deal with it later. After the show.
The security guard returned, this time more insistent. “You really need to head backstage now. Please.”
I nodded, then glanced at Thomas, then at Amy. Thomas seemed to understand.
“Hey,” he said, clearing his throat. “I didn’t expect you to invite me backstage. I just wanted a few minutes to talk. And… well. That’s done.”
“I was supposed to stay at your place,” Amy said hesitantly, “but Thomas booked us a hotel.”
“That’s fine,” I said. “Amy, you can go up to the VIP section if you want. You’ll probably run into a few celebrities you like.”
Her eyes went wide. “Oh my God, are you serious?” She turned to Thomas, grabbing his arm excitedly. “Can I go?”
“Of course,” he said, smiling faintly. “Who do you think I am - your father?”
"You can go with her, Thomas, I don't give a shit what you do!" I said to him.
Jordan chuckled. “You’re too nice.”
“Well, Amy’s gonna love it.”
She did. “Come on, please,” she begged, and Thomas gave in easily.
She stepped closer to me and hugged me tight.
“I’m sorry I just showed up like this -with Thomas. I didn’t know what else to do. And about the pictures… I know it’s bad timing. I hope you don’t let it mess with your head.”
I shook my head. I was too keyed up, too focused to let anything ruin the show. And despite everything, I was glad the conversation had happened.
“Good,” she said softly, smiling. “I feel better. I can’t wait to see you guys live again.”
I walked them up to the VIP area, made sure their names were on the list, then left them there and headed backstage.
---
The crew was already gathered around the buffet, grabbing dinner. Rob and Dylan were eating and talking, Damon and Jordan filling their plates. I joined them, fixing myself something to eat, the envelope still heavy in my pocket - but for now, the show came first.
When I sat down at the table, Dylan looked up from his plate.
“So,” he said carefully, “how did it go with Thomas?”
“He fucking apologized,” I said.
Rob’s head snapped up. “He what?”
“Yeah,” I answered. “Actually said the words.”
There was a brief pause.
Dylan blinked, then snorted. “Wow. Never too late to stop being a dickhead, I guess.”
Rob didn’t laugh. He leaned back in his chair, jaw tight, eyes fixed on me.
“And?” he asked. “Did it sound real?”
I shrugged. “More real than I expected.”
Rob gave a slow nod, absorbing it without a word. “Good,” he said finally. “Not that it fixes anything, but I’m glad he had to look you in the eye and say it.”
Jordan snorted. “ Impressive. Barely.”
“Still,” Rob said, quieter now, “I know that wasn’t easy. You okay?”
I nodded. “Yeah. I guess so.”
He studied me for another second, then reached over and squeezed my knee under the table, quick, grounding. He didn’t say anything else, but the gesture said plenty.
We talked about the conversation a bit more after that. I kept certain things to myself. The envelope stayed unmentioned. Jordan nearly brought it up, I could feel it, but one look from me shut that down.
We were just finishing up when Rachel and Taylor joined us.
Rachel dropped into the seat beside me, frowning.
“Mark, what the fuck is Thomas doing here? We just saw him in VIP.”
I exhaled slowly. “Long story. I’ll explain later. I really can’t talk about it again right now. Didn’t you talk to Amy?”
“I tried,” she said. “But she didn’t give a shit about me. She was too busy freaking out over Adele and the girls from Little Mix.”
“Adele’s here?” Rob blurted out.
“Oh my god, Rob,” Rachel laughed. “Don’t ask who’s here. You’re gonna freak out.”
“Why? Who else?” he demanded.
“She counted them off on her fingers. ‘Bono just arrived. Adele. Noel Gallagher…’” and the list went on.
"Really?” he yelled. "Are you fucking with me?"
She laughed. “Hmm… Sam Smith…”
“Taylor Swift!” Taylor sang, spinning a little and kissing Jordan.
“Oh, come on,” Rob groaned, rubbing his face.
“Maybe someone from Muse,” Rachel finished. “Not sure which one.”
“Rachel, stop,” I warned. “You’re actually making it worse. Why are you telling him ?”
“He asked!” she shot back.
Rob sucked in a deep breath, eyes wide now.
“Okay. Yep. LSD’s officially kicking in.”
“LSD?” Taylor asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Lead Singer Disorder,” I said with a grin. She nodded knowingly, clearly amused.
And indeed it hit him. Adrenaline surged through Rob, and he began pacing and spinning, unable to stay still. Excitement, and nerves, buzzed through him until, suddenly, he froze. He slumped onto the edge of the table, feet resting on a chair, burying his face in his hands.
I stepped over and nudged the chair aside, crouching between his legs. Wrapping my arms around him, I guided his head into the crook of my neck, one hand pressing gently against the back of his skull to hold him steady.
“Hey,” I murmured, my voice low and steady. “Just… breathe. Slowly.”
He clung to me, letting the tension seep away, little by little.
Jordan wandered over with Taylor and leaned close, whispering, “you gonna throw up?”
Rob lifted a hand and gave him the finger without looking up. I laughed.
“Leave him alone, Jord. You don’t have to do what he’s about to.”
“He’ll be fine once he’s on stage,” Jordan said, shaking his head.
“Yeah, well, he’s not on stage now, is he?” I muttered.
Taylor leaned in, her voice gentle. “Hey Rob, wanna know what I do before a show?”
He lifted his head to look at her.
“I dance! Shake off the nerves!” she said, spinning and swaying her hips. The movement practically hummed with music even though none was playing.
Rob’s eyes lit up. “Good idea,” he said, a wicked grin spreading across his face.
“Come on!” she teased, tapping her finger at him.
“Give me your phone,” she said to Jordan, quickly finding some upbeat music. “Let’s head back to your dressing room. I’ll help you relax.”
“Woo, I don’t know what you have in mind, but the boy’s really, really gay!” Jordan joked.
“Oh, I’ve seen him party, he’s not that gay,” Taylor shot back, laughing.
“That’s just good acting skills,” he said with a grin, which made Taylor laugh.
We followed her toward the dressing room. Taylor managed to pull us all out of our nerves for a little while. We laughed, danced, sang along to the music, and tried to breathe as we changed into our stage outfits.
After a moment, Damon burst in, kicking the door open so it slammed loudly against the wall. He grinned, bouncing on the balls of his feet.
“Yo! You guys ready to fucking rock?” he shouted, his girlfriend trailing behind him, smiling at his excitement.
“No! But apparently, you are!” I laughed.
"Are we on?" Rob asked worriedly.
“No! Another half hour! But fuck!” Damon exclaimed, twirling his drumsticks between his fingers. “I was watching Rewind perform, and Jesus, the crowd was on fire. I am SO ready now! Why didn’t you guys come watch? They were fucking good. Jeez, gotta get ready!” He headed straight for his outfit, anticipation crackling in his voice.
“Hell yeah,” Jordan beamed, bouncing up and down. “Just trying to stop Rob from wigging out in here!” he said to Damon.
“Nervous?” Damon asked, pulling his T-shirt off. “Don’t be. It’s gonna be a fucking good one.”
Rob grinned, tension still tight in his shoulders, but the edge in his eyes softened as a wide, excited smile spread across his face. “Alright… okay… yeah, I’m ready. Kinda.”
“I think I know what can pass the time…,” Jordan said, glancing at me, eyes twinkling as he scanned the dressing room for my stuff.
I was sitting on the edge of the counter and the second I realized what he was after, I leapt to my feet. I darted over and snatched the envelope just before he could reach it. I slipped it into my jeans… even into my underwear, holding it tight as he lunged.
Chaos erupted. We ran around the dressing room, him chasing me, me laughing and dodging every grab.
"Oh you wanna play it that way?" he laughed.
“What the hell is happening?” Dylan chuckled from the sofa. Rob shrugged beside him, grinning, clearly just as clueless.
Jordan managed to corner me, pressing against me. He grabbed both my arms to stop me from getting away but he quickly let go of one to try and slip his hand into my jeans.
I quickly twisted, laughing.
"Are you trying to molest me in front of your girl," I teased.
I grabbed his wrist with my free hand and tried to push him off me.
"Jord, come on, baby, no one can know about us," I told him sexily as I gazed into his eyes seductively.
He laughed, distracted.
"Shit," he exclaimed and that gave me just enough room to slip free. But he didn’t give up. After a few more wild laps around the room, he finally tackled me to the floor, pinning my wrists near the sofa where Rob and Dylan were still watching. I struggled, trying to flip him or wriggle out, but the guy was ridiculously strong.
“Get off me,” I yelled between laughs.
“Come on, Mark, you can do better than that,” Rob called, still grinning.
“I’m just letting him think he’s stronger than me. I’m enjoying it!” I joked.
Jordan laughed too. “Oh, you like it rough, huh?”
I smirked. “Keep dreaming, Jord. Why don't you bend over, I'll show you how I like it," I told him sexily.
"Oh no, you think you can fuck me so easily, I'm not Rob," he shot back.
"I'm aware of that, you’d already be on your knees by now."
"Hey," Rob exclaimed, mock-offended.
"Oh, who are you kidding," I laughed.
"Would you take your queer hands off me," I ordered Jordan.
"Fucking make me," he said, rocking his hips jokingly, "Come on, take it like a man."
"What? That little thing you call your dick!" I laughed, "no need to be a man to handle that!"
"Come on," he said seductively, and started singing, "Open up your assssss!"
I laughed and Rob snapped at him,
"Oh for fuck's sake Jordan!! You really gonna ruin that song for me. I've got to repeat this like a hundred times!"
"Nine times to be precise," I called out.
This was a lyric from our song 'Politik', originally "Open up your eyes".
Taylor leaned down, frowning at him. “Why are you singing this?”
“Comments I’ve read on YouTube,” Jordan said, grinning mischievously.
"This is exactly why I told you to stop reading comments," she said to him with a laugh.
"Come on, get off me!" I complained again, struggling to free my wrists.
“Guys,” Rachel called, “there are girls in the room! Knock it off.”
Dylan was talking to Rob, and I turned my head with a smile as he said,
“Maybe we shouldn’t play Politik tonight… some of us might not be able to stop laughing.”
Rob replied, “we can’t not play 'Politik'. People are gonna throw things at us if we don't. I'd be like not playing 'Yellow'."
Jordan hadn’t forgotten his goal - the envelope. Finally, he let go of one of my wrists to snag it. I seized the chance, flipping him onto his back, but he was quick. Before I knew it, he had grabbed the top edge of the envelope, which was peeking out of my pants.
“Jeez! That wasn’t easy,” he exclaimed, springing to his feet and sprinting away.
“What is this?” Dylan asked, leaning forward, intrigued.
"Pictures of his fucking bio dad … that his mother gave to Amy!"
"What!" Rob jumped to his feet and looked at me, eyes wide. "Why didn't you tell me?"
I exhaled and ran my hands over my face. “Do we really have to do this right now?”
"Wow!" Jordan exclaimed as he looked at the pictures. "It's you," He glanced at me, grinning.
Rob didn’t wait. He practically bounded over. “Lemme see this!”
He studied the three photos carefully. “Jeez,” he breathed.
After a long pause, he added, “Yeah, you’re not his spitting image, but… there’s definitely a striking resemblance. I was right, he was hot.”
They all took turn and the pictures passed from one hand to another, as everyone in the room commented on them.
"Oh great, now everyone's gonna see them but me," I complained.
"Then, have a look," Rachel said as she walked closer to me and handed me the picture she was holding.
I hesitated for a second but took it from her hand. I had a quick look at it.
"Fuck," I breathed.
It was surreal, finally seeing a face to put on him. Like everyone else, I couldn’t take my eyes off the picture. He was about my age in it, which made the resemblance easier to spot. Similar features, yes, but not a spitting image, just a shadow of him, like Rob had said.
Rob came over, wrapping his arms around me as I lingered on the photo.
“You okay?” he asked softly.
“Yeah… I guess. It just feels… weird.”
“Yeah. I bet it does.”
There wasn’t time to dwell. Tom burst into the dressing room, clapping loudly. “Alright, let’s go! To the stage, all of you! Go, go, go!!”
Startled, I looked up as everyone hurried past me.
“Damn,” I muttered. Jordan had been right, it had made the time fly. He always pushed my buttons, teased me, and somehow forced me to face things I wasn’t ready for - and, surprisingly, I was actually thankful for him.
I turned and Rob hugged me close. I let his steady presence ground me.
“Try to forget about all this for the next two hours, alright?”
“Yeah,” I said, squeezing him back. “Already forgotten.”
He hesitated. “Do you want us to skip ‘A Rush of Blood’? I know it might hit too hard.”
“No, no. Let’s not change a thing,” I said.
“Alright. Whatever you say.”
I held him tight one last time. When I pulled back, I took a deep breath, letting a small smile slip through. “Have fun.”
“You too,” he said, returning the smile.
We kissed, hugged again briefly, and stepped out together. The dressing room behind us faded, replaced by the lights, the music, and the roar of the waiting crowd, all of it forcing the pictures to the edge of my mind. I tightened my grip on Rob’s hand and let the adrenaline take over.
To get in touch with the author, send them an email.
