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The tour is a last hurrah before parenthood for the headliners and grad school for the opening act. Harrow's short set goes well, and the audience is very appreciative.
But once the stage high wears off, he realizes he's exhausted, and the room is insanely hot. He's soaked with sweat, the itchiness under his binder is just short of maddening, and he's starting to get a headache that's probably mostly dehydration.
Some electrolytes and painkillers later, he remembers that the van needs an oil change, and he's supposed to get what they need. Annika points him at the friend they're crashing with, and Harrow immediately forgets how to form any words that aren't breathless compliments.
Everyone's dressed to party, but their host stands out. His look is straddling the line between festive and fetishwear in a refined way. Everything is exquisite and impossible to ignore, from the boots and silver-grey net stockings, to the artfully fucked-up hair. The brilliant purple tips complement the lavishly embellished dress and the highlights of his dramatic makeup.
Harrow expresses appreciation for the latter and Host Guy waves it off with, "I had help."
His voice is deep, and smooth, adding another dimension to the captivating package.
"Makeup is such a big cultural thing in Duren, and everyone wears it..."
Harrow says, "I know, I've been there," and then mentally kicks himself when the response is the tight expression people always get when you casually mention having something they want and can't afford. He scrambles for something more positive.
"I love your dress! And your whole look, it's amazing!"
Host Guy blushes, like handsome men don't tell him that all the time, and smiles like Harrow is making his day.
"I really like your voice. And your whole... thing. 'Hot Dad In Training' energy."
Harrow grins at him, thrilled.
"That's exactly what I'm going for. It's flattering that you get it."
Was there something he was supposed to ask?
'The oil!"
"Excuse me?"
Harrow explains about the van maintenance. Host Guy explains how to get to the nearest store that will be open. Then he starts apologizing for not having any tools.
"I really should stop being so useless with stuff like that. I'm just-"
Harrow just wants him to stop apologizing, when he's already helping them out and it's not his problem, but that's not an excuse for putting his hand over the guy's mouth. He pulls it away instantly, apologizing profusely himself, and almost runs to the parking lot.
As he turns the van over he looks at his fingers, half expecting them to be smeared with lipstick, but apparently it's color-fast, so there's nothing to see. No evidence of the tingling sensation left behind by a couple day's worth of stubble.
It doesn't go away. He buys the stuff and leaves it in the van for the morning. When he gets back to the building, Neha flags him down and directs him toward the elevators and their sleeping space. They pass Host Guy on the way, but he's sharing deep conversation, and high-end e-cigs, with two strikingly attractive people wearing high fashion who turn out to be Actual Xadian Elves, so Harrow keeps walking. He hurries into his borrowed bed and crashes out hard.
Six am arrives too soon. Harrow fights his desire to hit snooze, groggily dressing with a head full of half-remembered dreams, featuring stubble and sequins and storm-grey eyes. The subject of those dreams is passed out on the couch. Harrow tiptoes around for a while, trying to come up with some small token to be remembered by.
A bottle of cold water is a good start. They're on a tight schedule, but he still tears a page out of his songwriting notebook to leave a note.
The girls walk Harrow through changing the oil, planning to have him do it alone next time, if there is a next time. He always enjoys learning to do things like this on his own.
It's become a tradition for Annika to thank him for broadening their appeal, at the cost of having to politely turn down a lot of offers. Harrow always brushes it off with exaggerated graciousness, but not this time.
"I might... uh... I might be a little bit interested, it turns out."
"A little bit gay? Since when?"
"Last night? Your friend, our host, he's very... um..."
"Pretty?"
"That's... yeah."
But once the stage high wears off, he realizes he's exhausted, and the room is insanely hot. He's soaked with sweat, the itchiness under his binder is just short of maddening, and he's starting to get a headache that's probably mostly dehydration.
Some electrolytes and painkillers later, he remembers that the van needs an oil change, and he's supposed to get what they need. Annika points him at the friend they're crashing with, and Harrow immediately forgets how to form any words that aren't breathless compliments.
Everyone's dressed to party, but their host stands out. His look is straddling the line between festive and fetishwear in a refined way. Everything is exquisite and impossible to ignore, from the boots and silver-grey net stockings, to the artfully fucked-up hair. The brilliant purple tips complement the lavishly embellished dress and the highlights of his dramatic makeup.
Harrow expresses appreciation for the latter and Host Guy waves it off with, "I had help."
His voice is deep, and smooth, adding another dimension to the captivating package.
"Makeup is such a big cultural thing in Duren, and everyone wears it..."
Harrow says, "I know, I've been there," and then mentally kicks himself when the response is the tight expression people always get when you casually mention having something they want and can't afford. He scrambles for something more positive.
"I love your dress! And your whole look, it's amazing!"
Host Guy blushes, like handsome men don't tell him that all the time, and smiles like Harrow is making his day.
"I really like your voice. And your whole... thing. 'Hot Dad In Training' energy."
Harrow grins at him, thrilled.
"That's exactly what I'm going for. It's flattering that you get it."
Was there something he was supposed to ask?
'The oil!"
"Excuse me?"
Harrow explains about the van maintenance. Host Guy explains how to get to the nearest store that will be open. Then he starts apologizing for not having any tools.
"I really should stop being so useless with stuff like that. I'm just-"
Harrow just wants him to stop apologizing, when he's already helping them out and it's not his problem, but that's not an excuse for putting his hand over the guy's mouth. He pulls it away instantly, apologizing profusely himself, and almost runs to the parking lot.
As he turns the van over he looks at his fingers, half expecting them to be smeared with lipstick, but apparently it's color-fast, so there's nothing to see. No evidence of the tingling sensation left behind by a couple day's worth of stubble.
It doesn't go away. He buys the stuff and leaves it in the van for the morning. When he gets back to the building, Neha flags him down and directs him toward the elevators and their sleeping space. They pass Host Guy on the way, but he's sharing deep conversation, and high-end e-cigs, with two strikingly attractive people wearing high fashion who turn out to be Actual Xadian Elves, so Harrow keeps walking. He hurries into his borrowed bed and crashes out hard.
Six am arrives too soon. Harrow fights his desire to hit snooze, groggily dressing with a head full of half-remembered dreams, featuring stubble and sequins and storm-grey eyes. The subject of those dreams is passed out on the couch. Harrow tiptoes around for a while, trying to come up with some small token to be remembered by.
A bottle of cold water is a good start. They're on a tight schedule, but he still tears a page out of his songwriting notebook to leave a note.
The girls walk Harrow through changing the oil, planning to have him do it alone next time, if there is a next time. He always enjoys learning to do things like this on his own.
It's become a tradition for Annika to thank him for broadening their appeal, at the cost of having to politely turn down a lot of offers. Harrow always brushes it off with exaggerated graciousness, but not this time.
"I might... uh... I might be a little bit interested, it turns out."
"A little bit gay? Since when?"
"Last night? Your friend, our host, he's very... um..."
"Pretty?"
"That's... yeah."
