Chapter Text
Leo had gone through too many outfits. His bedroom floor back at his apartment was a mess of his clothes. The problem was that he didn’t know where they were going. Where would Finn O’Hara want his interview done? He was in the middle of a massive world tour so they could end up anywhere from his dressing room to his private jet. That had happened to Leo before. He’d gotten right on the plane with the star and then be left at their destination to get himself home.
They could go to one of New York City’s number one restaurants—Paps were always catching Finn at Nobu and Via Carota—or it could be one of the apartments he kept. It could be a damn night club for all Leo knew. You didn’t wear the same clothes to Via Carota as a night club. Well. Some people did, he guessed.
Finally, and only cut off by the prospect of being late, Leo stepped out of his building’s elevator in slim fitted slacks and a white button-down, open at the collar. If he needed to dance, he’d undo a few buttons and dance. Otherwise, his sleeves were cuffed just below his elbows and his blond curls were cooperating perfectly. At least he had that going for him. The other variable had been his bag. Usually he carried his leather cross-body with his laptop and notebook. He didn’t want his laptop at a club—or a restaurant, to be honest. He’d settled on folding his sunglasses into his shirt and slipping a pocket-sized notebook into his trousers along with his phone.
The only thing he knew for certain was that he was going to get to see the concert first. And he was being cool about it. Completely professional.
Not thinking about the posters he’d had on his bedroom wall when he was sixteen. He wasn’t. His mom had sent him the picture of him grinning like a lunatic at Finn O’Hara’s first world tour. He wasn’t thinking about it. Not at all.
From his back pocket, his phone began to buzz. His assistant, Cassie.
“Hey, any chance you know where the hell I’m going?” he asked.
“Ten bucks you cry.”
Leo closed his eyes. “Jesus Christ.”
“Or go completely speechless.”
“I am an adult.”
“You cry when we pass those pet stores with puppies in the window.”
“I am a compassionate adult, Cas. Now where—”
“You’re going to the show!”
“I mean after,” Leo asked. “Any word from Finn—from O’Hara’s team? Where are we doing this thing?”
“How many outfits did you try on?”
Leo hung up.
The venue was much what he expected. Finn had five albums out with a much anticipated sixth one coming sometime this year. The June night was cool as Leo fell into the masses headed to Metlife Stadium. His magazine had said they’d send a car, but Leo opted for the trains. Maybe they were a pain, but so was traffic. And besides, this way, Leo would get to see the fans. Finn’s real fame had come with his second album, titled Bring The Stars, and he’d only gotten bigger with his third, Red&Gold, so there were many a star-studded dresses and golden, shimmering outfits. Leo stuck out sorely in his black and white. He texted Cassie.
Maybe I should have been more festive.
She replied immediately. I’ve seen your heartthrob O’Hara shirt. An emoji that had its tongue sticking out quickly followed.
Not helpful.
He talked to a few of the fans. One girl who had drawn gold stars all over her body. A boy wore a shirt that read I’M THE STARS, TAKE ME over a strong chest. It was a rather touching lyric in Finn’s song, but on the shirt it looked like a pick-up line and made Leo smile and write it down.
At the venue, he was lead straight to the VIP tent with his press pass, and was handed about four lanyards that would keep him there, allow him to go between the viewing tent and the VIP bar, and another that would later let him backstage. The woman who gave them to him promised to fetch him sometime after the encore. Then he was presented with a Finn&Tonic.
“Oh, I’m working.”
The woman smiled. “For the next two hours, you’re watching a concert.”
True enough, Leo thought. His inner teenager was whirling at the very manufactured idea that Finn had created this drink for him. He was sure anyone over twenty-one in the stadium was feeling the same.
“I tried to get Finnarita to happen, but no-go.”
Leo turned towards the voice at his shoulder and froze. He stared. He opened his mouth. He thought about speaking. The red hair, the brown eyes. It looked—well, almost how Leo imagined. Then again, he’d never seen Finn up close before. God, he was so much sturdier than his posters made him out to be. His chest and arms were pushing out against his t-shirt. Leo needed to not be looking at his chest. He should say hello. He should say something.
“What are you doing here?” he blurted out. He looked towards the stage where the opening act had just come on.
There was a laugh from beside him and when Leo looked back over, a hand was being extended. Without thinking, Leo took it.
“I’m watching the show.” The winning smile turned secretive. “I know what you’re thinking, and I’m sorry to disappoint, but I’m just the brother. Alex.”
Oh. Of course. That’s what was off.
“Oh,” Leo said. “Oh my God.”
Alex laughed harder. He shrugged.
“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean—” Leo let out a laugh because something about Alex made it feel like he could. “You probably get that all the time.”
“People think we’re twins. Always have. I’m used to it.”
“Well, I’m Leo.” After a beat, Leo did what he hated to do. “And I am under an obligation to tell you right now that you’re speaking to press.”
Alex nodded. He was probably thinking up some excuse to walk away. Whatever. Leo was used to that. No one wanted a random quote ending up in the wrong place.
“I know who you are,” Alex said instead. “I loved your piece on poetry in pop.”
Leo only just managed to swallow a sip of his drink around his surprise. “Oh? Thank you. It was a fun one. Listen, I still feel bad about nearly freaking out on you.”
“Ha, don’t worry. I mean, it’s a good thing you’re a fan—you are, I take it?”
“Yes. I mean, yes.”
“Well.” Alex nodded to his nearly empty drink then to the VIP bar. “You can join me for a drink later to make up for it.”
“Sure, of course.” The words came out of his mouth, but as Alex grinned and turned towards the bar, all of the heat rushed to Leo’s face.
He wasn’t positive, but he was fairly sure he was being hit on by Finn O’Hara’s big brother. Either that, or scoped out to make sure he was worthy of writing the story. Or he was being nice?
Leo gave up on thinking and watched Alex’s shoulders walk away.
There was a little menu in the tent and Leo glanced at it, trying to picture Alex O’Hara buying him a drink—and kissing him. The list was funny. Album themes. Song titles. Maybe he’d let Alex buy him a Rum & Gold.
Then, it was all Finn. He came out onto stage like something from one of Leo’s fantasies. He wore dark jeans and a green tank top that read LUCKY ME—a hit single off of the second album. Leo had died for that song in high school…He still did.
I watch you fill your cup with sugar,
Waitress asks 'what will it be?’
In this world of ‘ order up !’
Babe, you let me rest ease-y
I just say lucky me
I just say lucky me
“You know, I grew up here.” Finn’s voice echoed through the stadium after that song—it was quite a contrast. Lucky Me got more and more sexy with every verse. The diner waitress and I watch you fill your cup with sugar soon turned into Let me fill you up with sugar, let me drown in sweet and sweat. Leo wanted to know who in Finn’s life took their coffee sickly sweet.
“It’s the best city in the world,” Finn was saying. “Oh, and hey, my big brother’s here tonight! Everyone say Hiii, Alex-aaaa-nder!”
Alex got a thunderous hello and Finn—Finn was looking right at the VIP tent. Right at Alex. Who was standing right next to Leo again.
For a second, Leo swore Finn was looking at him. He felt those brown eyes, and when Finn smiled, lighting up every screen in the place, Leo felt that, too. He started to sweat, to blush. He was no better than anyone else in this crowd.
He swore, he swore, Finn was still looking at him when he raised his microphone to his mouth and said. “So many beautiful people here tonight…” Then he raised a hand. “You guys ready?”
He let them cheer, he tilted his head back and basked in it, the strong lines of his throat and jaw on complete display.
In a low, deadly rasp, Finn said, “Let me hear you, Lo.”
When he dropped his hand in a powerful fist, the drums kicked to life behind him.
Lo. It was only then that Leo managed to tear his eyes away from Finn. Three beats answered Finn’s words and the spotlight swung to Logan behind his kit.
Leo was going to die. He’d vastly overestimated his ability to keep his focus while doing this assignment. How was he supposed to remember his own name, much less how to write, when Logan Tremblay was sat there sweating through a clinging gray t-shirt, his brown hair curling up around a backwards black hat. Logan started up a beat that Leo would recognize anywhere. Their song I See Red had come out last year and Leo had been most intrigued because it was the first time Logan had sung alone on parts of a song. Although Finn sang most of it, Leo had played it over and over again for the parts that Logan sang. His voice was slightly deeper than Finn’s, the vowels influenced by his French-Canadian accent. Then there was the part when, like in Lucky Me, they traded beats and lyrics. The stadium went mad, though, when Logan began to sing his verse. Nothing but him and his drums.
I see red in my dreams.
Pressed against me,
Hard and gently,
Making me see.
Meant to be.
Two beats.
I see Red breaking free.
Looking at me
Breathing, ready,
No make believe.
Meant to be.
He went right into the bridge and the way he sang it—it was like Leo had never listened to the song at all until this moment. The way his body moved as he pounded the drums. Finn joined in, harmonizing and grinning wildly. The crowd had no care for the melody—they screamed the lyrics with Logan and the lights flashed every time his sticks hit his drums.
Red in my dreams getting all over me,
Sweat in my eyes please say you’ll never leave,
I knew once I woke I’d take it all back
So I never woke and we stayed like that.
I am not asleep and you are not a dream,
And my Red looks good in the sunlight gleam,
Not going back to sleep, or how it was.
Cover me in Red for forever cause
I see Red cross the street
Waving to me,
Wearing blue jeans,
Such a day dream.
Meant to be.
Finn looked flushed when he raised his arms to the crowd.
The crowd lost it—and continued to do so every time Finn and Logan did a similar call-and-answer. Finn’s voice and Logan’s drums. It was like a heart. Its beat and breath. Leo found himself grinning all through their song Green Eyes, rumored to be about a girl Finn spent a night with on tour in France. With each of Finn’s verses, Logan’s drums answered him with as many beats. No, you don’t—say much—but I read—your touch. Now Finn was standing behind Logan as Logan played, leaning in to share his microphone. You fall—I sigh—Oh my—green eyes.
It was hot. It was more than hot, it was sensual. Personal. The microphone caught Logan’s laugh and the crowd lost it all over again. A group of girls just in front of the VIP tent were sobbing—Leo was fairly sure they had been the entire time. He started to laugh a little, even if it was sweet how they held each other through the swaying rhythm of Your Loss and Thin Ice.
Leo knew he had been waiting for his favorite song. He’d been hoping each time a new one began that this would be it. It was softer, and he thought maybe he’d get to hear a bit more of Finn’s voice alone above all the instruments.
What actually happen was so much better. Finn sat down at the piano and began to play—alone.
“How are we all doing? Enjoying ourselves?” Finn grinned when the crowd roared for him. “Okay, good. Good, good. Um. This next one I’m gonna play a little piano, how’s that?”
Leo fought the urge to cover his giddy smile.
“Fantastic. You guys are great, I gotta tell you. But I’d expect nothing less from my favorite city… So, I think there are a lot of lovers of this song out there,” Finn said. “Me included. I actually didn’t expect everyone to love it so much because I know it’s a little different. Little sadder than our usual stuff. I wrote this one alone. Haven’t written anything alone since, but this one I did. I think it’s about making choices. It’s about wanting something so bad…” He paused, playing a few gorgeous soft chords, and Leo knew. This was his song. “That you hold on, even to the tiniest sliver.”
As raptured by Finn as Leo was, a movement on the stage caught his eye. Logan was getting up from behind his kit and leaving the stage. Leo frowned, watching his broad shoulders disappear. Maybe he was getting water because Finn played this one solo. Finn, on the stadium monitors, seemed to be watching, too.
“It’s a song about hope, really,” Finn said. “This is Rooftop.”
Part of Leo wanted to close his eyes, as he always did while listening. When Finn began to sing, he was a thousand places at once. Driving back home in New Orleans and singing it at the top of his lungs. Laying in his bed in the dark, crying so hard he couldn’t breathe through his nose. Swaying with Cassie at some party at the end of the night.
He didn’t close his eyes. He was here. The closest he’d ever been to Finn O’Hara in his life. He could see his famous freckles. Those gorgeous brown eyes—and the sorrow in them just now.
It’s a long, long, summer night
And I have no where to be.
I am gone, gone, lost the fight
Against hoping you’d want me.
It feels wrong, wrong, sitting here
Cause this is your place too.
You are gone, gone, lost the fight
But you know what is true.
I know you do.
Finn let the crowd sing the second I know you do back to him before he hit a gorgeous, thrumming piano chord and sang the chorus in a way that made Leo’s throat close up—as it always did.
I will lose my balance, I will
I will choose the highest place
Sit where only wind can race
Faster than your heart.
I will lose my courage, I will
I will fall and see your face
Reach out just enough to trace
All our broken parts.
And the bridge. God, the bridge. Sung in this quick, chopped low voice that Leo leaned into like he was thirsty. The crowd sang along so loud Leo felt it in his chest.
Bet the blood’s there still
Lingering on that window sill
But what no one sees
Are the ruins left of me.
Cause I’m still up there
My dreams smoking in the air.
Find the highest part
That’s the place we start.
And the blood’s still fresh…
The beautiful, beautiful pause. He was magnificent with the piano. The screens showed a shot of his hands, pale, strong wrists, delicate fingers. Leo got swept up by the key change, slowing it down, Finn’s voice raising, strong, the words drawn out, and so, so desperate for—for the memory, Leo thought, hand pressed against his chest. This song had always felt like a memory.
I wish you best
But I need you to know
That I will not rest
Until you tell me to go-oh
I’ve still got one hand
Locked on the ledge
Think I will hold on
Until you throw-oh
Me
Down
To my
Death.
Finn’s mouth rested against the microphone. His eyes were closed. The summer wind brushed his hair back from his forehead and—and Leo saw the tear track on his cheek. His voice was so, so soft for the final verse.
It’s a long, long, summer night
And I have no where to be.
I hold on, on in the fight
Of hoping you’ll want me.
Leo was in a daze when the set ended and he was whisked away by two people with headsets and backstage badges on. He fumbled to show his own passes to the three rounds of security. To his surprise, what he thought of as backstage was actually under the stage. He was lead through a curtain beneath the front part of the stage and through what resembled scaffolding. It was also a maze. He tried to keep track of where he was, but that plan went out the window in a second. There was no way he’d make it anywhere on his own if he had to. Soon enough, the low ceilings and metal poles disappeared and he was in the actual rooms of the stadium. More endless hallways, but a bit less of feeling like the whole thing could collapse on his head.
“Here we are, Mr. Knut,” said one of his companions. They’d arrived at a door that had a plastic sheet on it reading O’HARA.
Leo didn’t hear much of what was said after that. O’Hara. Leo saw flashes of all the posters, all the interviews, all those Instagram lives Finn used to do from the apartment he shared with Logan. He missed those videos. Finn in the kitchen talking about the new music he was working on, Logan wandering by shirtless behind him. It almost made one feel like they were in the room—which had probably been the point.
When he looked up again, the two headsets were walking away.
“Wait! Wait, should I knock or—”
But the world had already moved on in the post-show chaos and Leo was left standing there. He was more than surprised to find himself alone. He’d thought, being a journalist and all, they’d watch him like a hawk. Most musicians wanted to control what he saw. Apparently not Night Swimming.
Leo stepped closer to the sign, to the door, listening. He didn’t hear anything behind it. Not talking—maybe music, but it was hard to tell where that was coming from. Hesitantly, Leo knocked.
The door fell open a few inches. The latch must not have been done properly. Leo’s eyes raised in surprise. Now he could hear something—it was soft beneath the shouts and passing carts outside. But someone was inside.
Leo knocked again, gently, not wanting to startle, and took a half-step inside. He was expected, surely. Finn had been told?
Any words he might have had died in his throat.
Finn was inside. It was a warm space, soft music playing. A dressing table, a mini fridge, a guitar propped up against the sofa, an electric kettle. And Finn.
Finn who had Logan pressed up against the wall beside the mirror, its light warming their skin, kissing him. Kissing Logan in the same way he sang—with everything. Logan looked like Finn was all that was holding him up. He was still in the gray t-shirt, but his hat was gone—knocked to the floor by their feet. His dark curls were wild. Finn’s pale hands had hitched up his shirt and they made a stark contrast against Logan’s tan muscles. Logan made a soft sound into Finn’s mouth, Leo saw him bite at Finn’s lip and pull, and then Finn was dragging his lips down to Logan’s neck.
Maybe Leo made a sound himself, he didn’t know, but Logan’s eyes flashed open and met Leo’s.
Green. Green green green and then—
Interest. The look in them was so intense that Leo couldn’t move. He couldn’t close his eyes, couldn’t look away, couldn’t shut the door. Logan’s hand fisted Finn’s read hair and he—he pulled Finn off of his neck to kiss him again—eyes on Leo. He tapped Finn’s hip and Finn stopped. Leo heard him ask, what? Logan nodded his head in Leo’s direction.
Suddenly, brown eyes were on him, too. Finn’s eyes.
“Oh,” Finn said. His lips were pink and slick from Logan’s. Logan’s strong hand was still knotted in his hair.
“Excuse me,” Leo choked out. Finally, he forced his eyes down. Kissing, his mind chanted. FinnandLoganFinnandLogan. “I’m—I’m so sorry, I was told—”
“No, no, no,” Finn said. “Sorry, I didn’t hear you come in.” Finn looked around for a moment, a little dazed, and then spotted his shirt. He pulled it on backwards, cursed, and righted it. Damn right lucky you, Leo thought, glancing at Logan’s mouth.
“I’m sorry. I’m—so sorry, I’m here for…um.”
“Leo Knut,” Finn said. He strode forward and offered Leo a hand. If he was at all nervous about what Leo had just caught him and Logan doing, he didn’t show it. “I know, I’ve been looking forward to your interview. My brother and I, we talk about your work all the time.”
Leo was going to pass out. “Okay. I mean thank you.”
Finn smiled a little. He wiped his mouth. Leo tried to keep his eyes from following the motion.
“Um.” Leo said. “The show was fantastic.”
“Yeah? Thanks.”
“You’ve seen us before,” Logan said—and not like a question.
“Yeah,” Leo replied. “This is my third time. I’ve been a fan for a while. Since the beginning, really.” Stop talking. “So. So, my office said that we would be—well, I’m here for…”
“Right,” Finn said. “Of course. I think we’re doing an hour now, right?” When Leo nodded, he gestured to the couch. “Please, sit. Can we get you anything?”
Leo blinked. “Oh. Um. Water?”
“Let’s order food,” Logan said, collapsing on the couch. “I’m fucking starving.” He looks at Leo. “Or am I supposed to get out for this Finn O’Hara interview?”
“No,” Finn said, then looked at Leo. “I’d like him to stay.”
“That’s completely fine,” Leo said. “Better, even.” That sounded weird. “I mean, I’d love to hear both of your—of what you have to say.”
Leo stumbled through his questions. He fumbled his words, his phrasing. He had no direction, no path, he couldn’t remember all the angles he’d planned to try until he found this story.
The worse part was, he knew they could tell. Logan’s stormy eyes tracked his missteps like a shark. He was a quiet one. Leo had known that. He was like that in interviews. It bordered on rude, honestly, but Leo knew he had a sweet side. He’d seen videos of Logan spending a solid thirty minutes talking to fans through fences, outside of their hotels. Talking, taking photos, signing autographs, recording video messages for friends. So, Leo withstood the glare. He had, after all, walked in on him kissing Finn. The world certainly didn’t know about that.
By the time the hour was up, Leo had nothing but an empty notebook and a headache.
“We don’t have a show tomorrow,” Finn said. “Why don’t you come around to the apartment? Lo and I sleep late, but mid-day?” Finn smiled at him, friendly and sweet.
Lo and I. Was this Finn telling him something? Were they more than roommates? Not that it was any of Leo’s business, not that it had anything to do with the article, it was only…Leo tried to imagine himself at seventeen, knowing that Finn O’Hara and Logan Tremblay shared the part of himself that he was most unsure about. God, what that would have done for him.
“That sounds wonderful,” Leo said. “Thank you. Should we say noon?”
“Two,” Logan said. “We sleep late.”
Leo looked back to Logan. No smile. Studying. That same looked Leo had received during the kiss.
“Two, then,” Leo said.
If there was one thing he hadn’t expected from tonight, it was not being able to get out of that room fast enough.