Page 22 of Maybe (Mis-shapes #1)

EZRA

Pretty Vacant, my mate Neil’s band, had a gig at the Two Locks on Kentish Town Road.

All the songs were mine, except for the odd cover thrown in.

I’d invited Isaac on a whim, a bit like impulsively introducing him to Jonty.

Perhaps I wanted to show him there was more to me than that troubled teen with a habit of fucking off.

And, maybe, by accepting the invite, Isaac wanted to show me there was more to him than a mid-range electric car and a future mapped out by virtue of our surname.

He didn’t need to; I’d known that since I was a boy.

As Isaac queued up for drinks, insisting it was his treat, I nipped outside for a smoke. Neil joined me, rolling himself a joint.

“Who’s the guy?”

“Why? You jealous?”

“Depends.” Neil flicked his lighter. “He’s pretty.”

“Keep your grubby hands off him.” Isaac was that and some, but no way would he ever become one of Neil’s random playthings. “He’s my innocent baby brother, we got back in touch recently.”

Neil side-eyed me. “He doesn’t look like you. Or anyone else in here, to be honest.”

That was fair. Isaac stuck out like a sore prick.

He wasn’t dressed incongruously in comparison to the clubbers around us; black jeans and a light grey round neck sweater were fine, so it wasn’t his clothes.

Nor his sandy hair, parted in a style usually seen on a man twice his age, though the plainness suited him.

Nor was it his size, average in every way, though tonight he had the air of someone trying to make themselves smaller.

When we arrived, his left hand twisted at the hem of the sweater as his clear wide eyes flicked around the room, careful not to land anywhere for too long.

His right clutched his nearly empty pint of lager like a comfort blanket. He’d downed two in quick succession.

Mind you, after a sixty-hour week and failing an exam I’d worked my socks off for, I’d have probably done the same, plus thrown in a few vodka shots.

“We’re not blood relatives. His dad was with my mum. I was adopted by his dad. His mum is someone else. Long story.”

Neil digested that, or pretended to, squinting up at the clear evening sky. “That’s good, seeing as you want to jump his bones.”

“Fuck off, mate! Isaac’s my brother.”

Before I could hurl any more insults at him, that bloody dream I’d had flitted through my head.

What the hell ?

Then there was that hug in his kitchen too. I hadn’t wanted to ever let go. But that was just pleasant bodily heat and friction. Wasn’t it?

“You have thought of him that way,” Neil persisted. “You’ve got that possessive, ‘just a little too pleased with yourself’ look. Your you belong to me look.”

“I don’t have a you belong to me look!”

“Yeah you do.” Neil took a drag, tossing his dreads back. “I should know.”

I plucked the joint from his hand. It was getting weird. And Neil’s casual remarks were getting too close to the knuckle.

I inhaled deeply, all the way to the bottom of my lungs. “You’ve been smoking to much of this, mate.”

I had given the dead-eye to some bloke earlier who’d stood a bit too close to Isaac in the queue to get in. And I’d noticed Isaac smelled great tonight, like he looked: clean and virtuous. I’d even told him so, sniffing his hair then sniffing it again like I couldn’t get enough of it.

Neil shrugged. “Does he want to jump yours?”

I loved Neil to bits, but he clung to an idea the way a starving dog worried a bone. “No!”

“How do you know? Have you asked him? ‘Cos I don’t reckon he’s here for the tunes and the mosh pit, do you?”

“I don’t need to ask him. He’s my fucking brother and I wanted to spend some time with him; he’s not some random guy I picked up at Camden Lock on the way over.”

To be fair, I was staggered Isaac hadn’t cried off. Finally escaping Neil’s inquisition, I sought him out, standing alone and sipping his beer, his eyes roaming the place like he was searching for me.

“All good?” I bent low to his ear so he could hear me over the racket of the warm-up band. Yep, still smelled great. In fact, the whole package—his shy smile, his nervousness, his determination to enjoy a night in here because it was my thing—was inconveniently charming.

Isaac’s skin had a tendency to blush easily, and it did so now. “Great!” he shouted back at me, “I’ve never been anywhere like this,”

No shit. From the glassiness in his eyes, he didn’t normally drink more than a couple of pints either. I took his arm. “Come on, let’s stand by the fire door—you get the best view from there, and it’s a bit quieter.”

Pretty Vacant were pretty loud. Neil and I worked well together, but bloody hell, the collab wasn’t without its challenges.

Neil did to my subtle, delicate lyrics what a pair of woolly tights did to finger fucking.

By the time he finished with them, my sweet melodies were barely recognisable.

In my humble opinion, a little less volume and a little more attention to detail would elevate the band to bigger venues.

Neil had great stage presence and was hot as fuck.

But my creative input stopped at writing stuff and getting badly paid for it, and at any rate, who cared?

They made a few hundred quid each gig from their loyal fan base of pissed young blokes.

Several hundred of them threw themselves around in front of the stage now, waving their hands in the air like antennas to heaven.

Fuck knows what Isaac made of it. Especially as Neil’s provocative moves were more often than not directed at me.

With every ending of one song and the start of another, Isaac looked up at me with a raised eyebrow, mouthing is this one of yours ?

And every time I nodded, he got this ridiculous smile on his face, like he was going to enjoy it because I’d written it.

It felt like having my dad (if my dad had been that sort) coming to one of my school gigs and cheering me on from the front row.

Especially when Isaac tapped his foot and did this nerdy jigging thing.

Every time I leaned in to speak to him, our shoulders nudged.

At some point, it became easier just to leave them there, touching, side by side.

Though I’d finished my second pint and Isaac his third, I was reluctant to move away and buy another.

I already knew what one of his sturdy hugs felt like.

What would having another and then kissing him feel like?

You’ll never know , I told myself sternly. It was a terrible idea. It would fuck everything up.

You belong to me? Fucking absurd.

Halfway through the set, Neil and the guys paused for another round of smokes. Isaac tagged along behind me to the bar, swaying. My overdraft bought us a fresh couple of pints.

“You still okay?” I asked him, unable to help myself.

Every now and again, this ridiculous older brother thing kicked in.

Yet this time, it was doing battle in my head with that ridiculous erotic dream I had about him, where I came across Isaac unexpectedly on a night out.

In my dream, he was alone, on the way back from a late shift maybe.

What started out as me walking him back to the posh mansion flat somehow skipped a few scenes and ended up with me fucking him senseless against a kitchen cupboard.

I’ve wanked to amateur porn with more complex storylines.

Until tonight, I’d shaken the dream off as a brain fart. I’d shake it off now if only dream Isaac hadn’t looked at me pretty much like real Isaac’s looking at me now; like he’s about to beg me to lick the beer froth from his upper lip. Christ, I needed to pull myself together.

“Yeah, thanks for inviting me; it’s taking my mind off everything.”

“Difficult to worry about anything apart from burst ear drums when Neil’s belting out ‘ I’ve got toes but I’m not a toaster ’.” Admittedly, not my finest lyrical moment. “I was taking the piss out of a Killers song—me and Neil thought it was funny at the time.”

Probably because we’d been high as kites.

Isaac took a gulp of his fresh pint. “Trust me. It beats lying on the sofa, quietly stressing out.”

“You’re not going to do that anymore.” I threw him my sternest scowl. “You’re going to phone me and talk it through.”

“Who’s looking after Jonty tonight?”

“Carly’s mum.”

My favourite blush crept up his neck. “I can’t believe you, you know… with her as well.”

“Nor can I, to be honest, when I look back at it.” That wasn’t one of my finest moments either.

He grinned. “Family get-togethers must be a hoot.”

“Yep, but still better than any we ever had as kids.” If you think I’m taking you out in public with that haircut, Ezra, you can stay behind.

Demonstrating, yet again, that I was excellent at killing a conversation.

Wisely, Isaac changed the subject. “The lead singer’s very friendly with you.” He indicated towards Neil, deep in conversation with a bunch of musos. I smiled; I wondered if he’d notice. “He’s good looking. Is he gay?”

“Yeah.” I shrugged. “But been there and done that. We’re good mates now—we have been for a long time.” I give a brief laugh. “Actually, Neil thought we were, you know…you and me…”

“As if,” Isaac huffed. “I’d… I mean… that would be just… wrong.”

His skin tone said the opposite. A beat passed. “Would it?” I queried softly.

“Yeah, Ez. Idiot. You’re my brother.”

“No by blood, though,” I pushed. “So theoretically, we could…”

The heat from the crimson flush climbing Isaac’s cheeks could power a small generator. I wanted to curl my palm around it.

Interesting.