“Definitely not,” Tone added. “Doing this—all this other stuff—is how we keep ourselves sane as friends and fresh as musicians.”

  “Let me see what I can do,” Melissa said. Then she looked over at Ben. “Ben, are you okay with this?”

  “Yeah,” he said, and then he cleared his throat. “Yes. It’s actually… we came up with this because of me. I’m pretty sure I can commit to doing all this and not go fucking batshit crazy. Again.”

  “That’s good. Okay. Let me take it away and package it up together. We might need to talk contracts before I go back to LA, but that’s later. Can I hear some of the music now?”

  Ben grinned. “I’m sure we can do that.”

  Just like Stan expected, word spread like wildfire on social media about the impromptu gig Ares were playing in the bar where they’d broken out. Security were turning people away due to capacity at least an hour before it was due to start, and the place was packed. Stan found a place near the back, to the side, where he had a great view of the downstage left area where Ben would be playing.

  He’d kept up with Ares over the years, wanting to know what was going on with the band as much for himself as for them. He’d bought all the albums, watched the late-night talk shows, picked up the magazines when they were featured on the cover.

  He’d caught the Glastonbury set more by accident than design. It was playing in an airport lounge when he was waiting for a flight to London. Watching the band play live had always set off a terrifying mix of emotions for Stan. He was immensely proud of them, nervous, excited, and a lot of other things that he couldn’t name, but formed as a knot in his stomach.

  Knowing tonight they would be playing the song he’d had a hand in was setting those nerves alight again.

  Stan leaned against the wall as the lights dipped and the assembled crowd started to roar.

  Tone came out first, like he always did, picking up his drumsticks and starting a heavy beat. Choosing “Out of Here” as an opening was a great idea—before the rest of the band had even got on stage, the fans were screaming for it.

  He watched, unable to keep the smile from his face as that magic Ben had spoken about was created in front of his eyes. Ben looked… he looked incredible. He was clearly healthy and seemed like he was actually enjoying himself, rather than just going through the motions.

  Stan had never had a problem with this part of their relationship. He’d liked being the one in the audience, looking up at his rock god boyfriend while Ben did the thing he was best at. Ben was born for this. He could look moody and sultry, while still totally into the music and the crowd.

  At the end of the song, Geordie hit a bum note, and they all collapsed into laughter. Stan couldn’t tell if he’d done it on purpose for effect or if it really was a mistake, but watching them all laugh together was amazing. Stan got it, then. He’d been wondering since LA why on earth they’d stuck together, why they’d put up with Ben and all the problems that came with him, why bother?

  This was why.

  Because when you threw those five people on stage together, nothing else mattered. They wanted to play their own music and didn’t care who was listening.

  “Well, that went better than expected, seeing as how we haven’t played it in about six months,” Jez said, leaning into the microphone. “Hi everyone.”

  They screamed back.

  “Thanks for coming out tonight. We’re here to play you some music. I hope you like it.”

  The next song was one from the new album, the first time they’d played it in public. Ben wasn’t really looking out into the crowd; he had his back turned to them for the first half of the song, watching Tone and taking something from the drums rather than the audience. Stan wondered if the levels were right and turned around to check with the sound guy, but he was already furiously working away so Stan didn’t bother him.

  By song three, Ben seemed to have got into whatever groove he needed to be in. He looked so comfortable on stage, tall and sexy and sullen. And healthy. Pink cheeks, shiny hair, arms tight with muscle and some weight across his chest and on his arse, where it suited him. Instead of the more wild stage costumes that had started to appear in the past few years, all of the guys were wearing T-shirts and jeans.

  Stan hadn’t had a part in that decision, but he approved of it. Everything they were doing was starting to build this impression that Ares were going back to their roots, that they weren’t a pretentious, unavailable band. They looked like any other group of people who got up onto that specific stage to play to a live audience, and Stan thought that was going to resonate.

  At the end of the song, it took a few minutes for the crowd to calm down enough for Ben to step up to the mic and address them.

  “I’m going to be self-indulgent now for a minute, so I hope you’ll forgive me for that,” he grumbled. Stan shook his head and smiled to himself. Ben had an incredible singing voice, but turned into a moody teenager when it came to public speaking.

  Stan noticed mobile phones going up in the crowd, recording whatever Ben had to say for posterity. More phones. Plenty of people had been recording the whole thing. The rest of the band were watching him curiously too, and Stan wondered if Ben had given them a heads-up about this little announcement. Probably not, knowing Ben.

  “There’s been a lot of bullshit written about us in the past year or so,” Ben continued. “About me, mostly, and a lot of it’s true. Sometimes life takes you in a direction you never expected, or brings you back to a place you never thought it possible to come back to. I’m really grateful to be here tonight—on multiple levels.

  “Someone really important helped write this next song. For those of you who don’t know him, he’s my boyfriend, and I love him very much. This song is called ‘Girl Things.’”

  The song opened with Ben’s guitar riff, and the rest of the band were poised and waiting for it, so the transition into the song appeared seamless. Stan stood in shock for most of it, amazed at Ben, yet again, managing to surprise him.

  Ben had never been one for big, public declarations like that, especially not after the spotlight had been turned on him. He shied away from anything that could add fuel to the fire. It had been a while before he’d publicly come out, even though they were making no attempt to hide their relationship and plenty of people knew about it.

  “Girl Things” sounded incredible live. Stan had heard it in rehearsals, of course, but it resonated around the room with a buzz that Stan felt all the way down to his bones. Summer leant a beauty and authenticity to the lyrics that would never have sounded right in Ben or Jez’s voice.

  At the end of the song, Tone didn’t give the crowd any time to react, instead launching straight into “Teenage Kicks” and pushing the simmering emotion to the next level. They hadn’t played this live for years, not since people became far more interested in their original music than the cover. It held meaning, though, especially to the people who were here tonight. They understood the significance of it, and it was the final underline of the message they were pushing.

  Ares was back—but more importantly, Ares was home.

  Chapter Twenty Six

  Ben stumbled to the small backstage area, which was more like a hallway with a toilet at one end and a little alcove with a sofa. He sank down onto the sofa because there wasn’t anywhere else to go and put his face in his hands.

  Holy shit, he’d done it.

  For the first time in over a year, he’d played for a live audience. For the first time in over three years, he’d done it stone-cold sober.

  If anyone else got the significance of what he’d just done, they didn’t mention it. Only Tone briefly squeezed Ben’s shoulder before going to the fire exit to have a smoke.

  Because of the open door, Ben could hear the crowd of people as they dispersed, out of Buck Shot and into the streets of Camden. Probably onto the next place, high on a great gig from a band who hadn’t played that well in a long time. People would write about this gig. Ben would do his best not to read about it.

  “Hey.”

  Ben startled, then looked up at Stan. “Hi.”

  Without saying anything else, Stan climbed onto Ben’s lap and encouraged his head to rest on his shoulder. Ben was shaking, he could feel that now, and Stan gently combed his fingers through Ben’s hair until he felt a little more steady. That didn’t take long, not with Stan.

  “You were incredible,” Stan murmured. He kissed Ben’s forehead. “I’m so proud of you.”

  “I can’t believe I just did that.”

  “I can. And you didn’t just do it—you totally rocked it. Even I got nostalgic.”

  Ben laughed at that, and the knot in his chest loosened a little. He tilted his head back and Stan’s lips brushed over his own, once, twice, then a little more.

  “Ben,” Melissa called from the other end of the hallway. “We’re ready for you.”

  Stan frowned at him. “What’s going on?”

  “Come on,” Ben said, taking Stan’s hand and leading him back into the now-empty venue.

  The stage was still set up with all their gear, but now there was a tall stool in the middle of the stage and two microphones set up, one angled for the guitar and another for vocals.

  “I need to record something,” Ben said. “I don’t know what we’re going to do with it yet, but… you’ll see.”

  The techs had been working to set it all up: the two cameras at the back of the room, plus all the recording equipment. A small X, made with tape, was set on the floor in the middle of the audience space.

  “You need to stand there,” Ben said.

  “Me?”

  “Yeah. I want to play it for you.”

  Stan gave him a curious sort of look, then smiled. “Okay.”

  In direct contrast to the sheer terror of going out in front of an audience, this wasn’t bad. Ben liked performing. He didn’t mind being on a stage, and he loved the instantaneous feedback of playing for a live crowd.

  He wanted Stan to be the first person to hear this song.

  The acoustic guitar was already set up and tuned; Ben pulled the strap around his shoulder and tested the strings. The tech had his hand up, indicating that they were already recording, so Ben just started to play.

  This wasn’t the first song he’d written about Stan. A few of them had even made it onto albums in the past, though they were more abstract than this one. This song Ben had written in the small bedroom in Stan’s flat, fighting all sorts of personal demons while the man he loved slept a hundred feet away, on the other side of a wall.

  It didn’t have a title yet, though Ben thought it might be called “Growing Old.” That’s what it was about, anyway. Looking into the future and wondering what needed to be done in the present to get to where he wanted to be.

  The circle of addiction and anxiety Ben had been trapped in had him living not in the present, but in repeating the mistakes of the past while unable to escape from it. Reconnecting with Stan should have, logically, thrown him even deeper into that cycle—instead it had broken it. For the first time in years, Ben saw his future. One with Stan by his side, and he ached for it.

  Halfway through the song, he forced himself to meet Stan’s eyes. A bright spotlight was trained on the stage, so Ben couldn’t see much. Stan had his hands clasped and was watching with the kind of rapt attention Ben was so scared of.

  It wasn’t the best song in the world, but it was an honest one.

  When it was done, Stan walked up to the stage and hopped up, then wrapped his arms around Ben’s neck and pressed their foreheads together. Holding the guitar in his lap made it hard to hug him back, but he managed to get an arm around Stan’s waist to hold him close.

  “Wow.”

  Ben smiled, pressing his lips to Stan’s neck so he could feel it. “I love you.”

  “I love you too.”

  They stayed like that for a moment, even though there were people in the room watching them, even though the cameras might still be on. Then the rest of the band burst onto the stage and piled onto their group hug.

  Ben couldn’t help but laugh, caught up in the ridiculousness of the situation. He wasn’t even sure what they were going to do with the song yet. It was just too good of an opportunity to miss, to get to record it live like this. It might even form part of the promo for the new album, rather than any of his own stuff. That was okay too.

  “We’re not rolling,” someone called from the back of the stage, and Ben managed to shake Geordie off before he tried to stick his tongue in Ben’s ear. He’d learned how to dodge that a long time ago.

  “You’re all a bunch of cocks,” he said.

  Summer just kissed him. “It’s a good song.”

  “Thanks.”

  Ben slipped his hand into Stan’s as they started to pack up all their gear. Even now, they preferred to set up and break down from gigs themselves. Partly it was an ego thing, proving they didn’t have one and didn’t expect others to do their dirty work for them. Partly it was because they’d had too much kit stolen or damaged by techs in the past. Ben thought it was a healthy habit, either way.

  “Are you doing okay?” Stan murmured when they were almost done. Ben nodded and kissed him on the cheek.

  “Better than I thought I would be. Yeah.”

  “Good. You want to get some food and go home?”

  “Yes,” Ben said, being dramatic on purpose. He dropped his head so it rested against Stan’s. “Please.”

  “What do you want?” Stan laughed.

  “Anything. I want what you want. Just make sure there’s a lot of it.”

  “Are you getting food?” Tone called from across the room.

  Stan kissed Ben on the lips, just lightly, then turned to Tone. “Do you want to come back to ours for dinner, Tone?”

  Geordie turned to Stan with a pout. “What about me?”

  “Fine. I’m ordering sushi for six. And I’m not taking requests. Hurry up.”

  They got back to the flat in some kind of covert operation that seemed to involve the entire security team smuggling them out of Buck Shot one by one. A few fans had hung around, trying to catch one last glimpse of the band before they were whisked away, but they were all waiting at the front of the building. It wasn’t exactly a secret that the band entrance to the venue was around the side, but it was so well blocked off, no one could get around there.

  Even with weekend traffic, it didn’t take long to get back to the new flat.

  No one had seen inside yet, so Ben let them wander around and criticise his taste in decorating while he sat at the dining table with his arms wrapped around Stan’s middle, his face pressed to Stan’s belly.

  “You’re all miserable fuckers, and I hate you,” he mumbled, too quietly for anyone to hear.

  Stan kicked everyone out at around two in the morning, sending them back to their own house to go to bed. But that didn’t feel right, somehow, and the next morning Ben dragged Stan over to Belsize Park so they could be together again.

  They all wandered around in a weird kind of comedown, not wanting to break the magic of the night before. Summer camped out in the living room in front of the TV, obsessively checking social media for reactions to the gig. Ben made enough toast for both of them, then joined her on the sofa.

  “So, what’s the consensus?”

  She nodded and carefully picked up a piece of toast. “A lot of good vibes. I reckon we can drop a single in the next few weeks and it’ll do really well.”

  “We don’t have a video or anything, though.”

  Summer crunched her toast, then licked her fingers. “They can use footage from the gig if we use one of the songs we played.”

  “’Girl Things’?”

  “No,” she shook her head. “We need a better video for that. Maybe ‘Wooden Heart’?”

  Ben was surprised. “I hadn’t thought we’d use that as a single.”

  “Me either. But they loved it, Ben.”

  “Maybe. Yeah. Maybe.” He split a piece of toast in half so they could share it. Summer was wearing an Ares T-shirt, one from their last tour that she’d had a hand in designing. For some reason, it made Ben feel very fond of her to see her wearing it. It was nice to know they were still their own biggest fans.

  Impulsively, he pulled her into a hug.

  “I’m so pleased you’re doing better,” Summer murmured against his shoulder. “God, Ben. You had me worried.”

  “Me too,” he admitted as she shuffled back. “No going back now, though.”

  “No. I spoke to Melissa earlier. They’re expediting the mixing for the album. She wants to do a listening party in the next few weeks.”

  “That early?”

  “She’ll do it with a rough cut if she has to. We did a lot of the work back in LA, mate. I think they might want us to rerecord some of the vocals, get the harmonies right, but we can do that in an afternoon if we have to.”

  Ben nodded slowly. “Okay.”

  “Are you going to be alright with all of that?”

  “Yeah.”

  She leaned over to squeeze his knee. “If you need us for anything, just say something, for fuck’s sake.”

  “I want to listen to the album before we share it with anyone else. Even Stan, or Sherrie or Melissa. I want the five of us to be happy with it before it goes out there.”

  “That’s a good idea.” She tucked her hair behind her ear. “I’ll call Weston. He’s doing the bulk of the production in LA, but I bet he’d come here if we asked him to.”

  “Are we going to be ready in time for the launch party?”

  “Definitely.” Summer tapped at something on her phone, replying to a message. “Honestly, Ben, we were ninety percent done with it before we got back to London. Barring the two new songs, obviously. It won’t take long for us to put the rest of it together.”

  “What about the track listing?”

  “You’re worrying like an old lady,” Summer teased him. “It’s going to be so good. I promise you.”