Chapter Text
Stunned, Brian Connolly stared at his reflection in the mirror. When he got up that Saturday morning, with the sun shooting harsh rays through the mirror of the hotel room that he was occupying in east London, what he expected to see in the mirror of the small and wall-stained bathroom was a face ravaged not only by time but also by his numerous vices. A face which was also marked by grief and the loss of hope. The face of a man who had given up holding on to something important and was only living superficially.
Instead, what he saw in the mirror was a face with smooth white skin, a couple of rosy cheeks that were no longer sagging and instead still had some of its original baby fats, a pair of bright blue eyes without shadows underneath them and without even a trace of a crow’s feet. Sharp thin eyebrows arched up and plump naturally red lips hung open in shock.
His long blond hair, which had already lost its lustre and had become limp and matted, now hugged his face with a golden sheen.
If he didn't know any better, then he would start believing that he had gone back in time and was twenty-five again.
Not only his looks had changed; his whole body felt better. The past heart attacks and his other health scares in the past decade had made him physically weak, his immune system failing him again and again and making him take numerous trips to the hospital. His alcohol addiction and the drugs he’d partaken when he was still at the peak of stardom as the lead singer of Sweet didn't help and since then, he started having troubles breathing and sometimes couldn't get up from his bed without help.
But today, he didn’t feel like there was anything wrong with his body. He didn't feel sick or someone who was only waiting for the time that he would breathe his last. It was like he was back when he was still a healthy young man, working blue collar jobs with his best mates and dreaming of becoming a popular rockstar.
Brian Connolly, the forty-years-old washed up and retired rockstar who’d been left behind not only by his fans but also by family and mates and now was just patiently waiting to die, through a miracle suddenly looked and felt like he was twenty-five again.
Somehow, in the middle of his fitful sleep, he’d been given a second chance.
And he wasn't sure what to do about it.
His former band was going to hold a concert in a mid-sized theater near his hotel. Brian frowned when he saw the number of people expected to show up. Only a decade before, he would never imagine that Sweet would ever perform in such a small crowd. But a decade before, he’d also never imagined that he would be booted out of Sweet too, so who could really tell on which way the Wheel of Fortune would turn for Sweet?
It was an open venue and there were still a few tickets available for the fans who wanted to see their favorite band to purchase. After a few moments of hesitation, Brian decided to purchase one which would give him a position near enough to see the stage, but not near enough for the people on the stage to see him clearly.
The concert would start at one in the afternoon, four hours from then. So Brian decided to pick some nondescript clothes inside the shop at the end of the street.
Thankfully, the cashier and the attendants inside the shop were the types to listen to classics instead of rock ‘n roll, so Brian didn't have to worry about suddenly being accosted by an overeager fan. After buying everything he needed, he grabbed his bags and walked out into the foggy London streets.
The early Spring wind was cold that day, but he didn't find himself shivering and wheezing from the dry acrid air. His breathing was regular and his heartbeat was strong and steady, something which he’d taken for granted before.
He smiled bitterly.
He went back to the hotel, took a long hot shower, and dressed himself in a pair of clean jeans, a baggy Mickey Mouse sweater with a hood and a pair of ordinary grey sneakers. He ate his lunch inside the hotel’s restaurant before going out to see Sweet.
Today, he would watch his old bandmates play as a regular fan and not as the former rockstar named Brian Connolly.
The sky was overcast when Brian reached the park where Sweet would be playing. There was still a half of an hour left before the concert would start but the place was already packed. Brian could taste the excitement and trepidation in the air and a half-smile appeared on his lips. His eyes roamed over the crowd, pleased to see so many young people who were eager to see the band perform and hear their songs despite the fact that they were past their primes. The rise of punk and heavy metal had left old-fashioned rock stars like him scrambling for a smidgen of relevance until giving up in the end. And though he was still a bit bitter about his firing from Sweet, he was grudgingly happy that they were doing better than he’d been.
They used to be his mates after all, and the songs that they were still performing and singing had used to be his, too.
He pulled his hood up. He didn't want to be recognized by the crowd around him, even if he looked a far cry from the very sorry state that his fans had last seen him in. He’d used to be called ‘Beautiful Brian’ in his youth and not to be vain, he knew how devastating his handsome looks was to all his fangirls and sometimes, fanboys. He'd rather die than to cause chaos among the crowd and make the band cancel this concert before it even started just because a fan recognized his face.
Also, he didn't want his ex-bandmates to see him, especially Mick who had the eyes of an eagle. It's been three whole years since he’d last communicated with them after all. And he had nobody to blame but himself with how fiercely and unforgivably he’d rejected any offers of dinners or talks or phone calls from them the first year after he’d been booted out of the band by them. When he’d finally calmed down and started missing them, his pride had still kept him from reaching out and in the end, Mick, Steve and Andy had finally given up trying to reach him and his friendships with them fully ended.
He shook the dreary thoughts out of his mind. There was no use mulling in regrets. After today, he would take everything he owned and go back to Glasgow to start a new life. His family would be taken care of without him since all of his money would go to them. He only wanted to see his former bandmates and friends perform their songs one last time before leaving as a farewell to their shared past and old brotherhood.
He was so deep in his thoughts that he didn't notice the band entering the stage until a feedback suddenly rang to his ears, wrenching his consciousness back to the real world.
His eyes snapped towards the stage. His breath hitched.
They all looked old. Steve, Mick and Andy were all definitely older than he remembered. How long had it been since he’d last seen them face to face? Five years? Six years? He wasn't sure. But before this moment, before he saw them with his own eyes, he’d still kept the image of them as young men. But today, that image shattered.
The three of them wore mismatched clothes, looking like they all belonged to three different bands instead of just one. They also had beards, too. All of them instead of just Andy. Mick’s hair was cut close to his ears and he wore a single black studded earring to his left ear. Andy wore a pair of shades, which was an eyebrow-raising move because of the lack of sunlight that day. Steve's apparel was definitely effeminate and reminded Brian of Cher’s black V-shaped dress with billowing sleeves. His thick and glossy ginger hair hugged his haggard-looking face as his dull blue eyes looked down on his red Gibson Thunderbird IV bass.
Meanwhile, Andy looked like he was dragged out of his bed to perform, his annoyance palpable from the sneer on his lips and his dark furrowed brows and he ran his fingers through the strings of his Les Paul. He wore an old gray T-shirt with the name of some American band and his skinny jeans carried old stains of splashed coffee. His dark hair barely brushed his shoulders and looked unkempt. The man on the stage looked so different from the usually well-groomed guitarist in his memories that Brian was flabbergasted.
He rubbed his eyes, blinked several times but the scene on the stage didn't change. OK, after many years Brian had expected for the three of them to change, but not so much.
Brian watched the first half of the concert in daze. In his state of denial, he couldn't believe that the band that he was watching on stage was the same band that he used to be a part of. They sounded good, in fact. So good that Brian knew that the three were still consummate professionals as before. But there was something missing in their performances. It took him three songs to realize what it was.
Steve, Mick and Andy weren't playing as a band, but more like three artists forced to perform together. There was no chemistry between the three of them, no eye contact or exchanged smiles and accidental touches. Steve and Andy were as far apart as the small stage allowed and there seems to be an invisible line between them that neither wanted to cross. Mick, who was placed behind with his drum set, was stubbornly keeping his eyes to his drums and never once raising them to look at the crowd or at his bandmates, even when he sang lead or harmonized with the others.
The crowd, unlike, Brian, didn't seem to notice that something was amiss. They were all enjoying singing and dancing with each song that Sweet played on stage and for a short sick moment, Brian wanted to forget that he used to be a member of Sweet, that he was just an ordinary fan of the band so he could enjoy the concert along with other fans because this would be the first and last time that he would watch his former bandmates play before leaving for Scotland. But alas, he wasn't just any fan. He was Brian Conolly, the ex-lead singer of Sweet and so he couldn't help but notice even the slightest irregularities with his ex-bandmates’ actions on the stage.
He closed his eyes tightly. The memories of their past performances rushed to the forefront of his mind, painfully reminding him of everything that he had lost thanks to his own vices. He remembered how much fun the four of them had recording songs and playing them on stage for the first time, their stints at the Tops of the Pop and how they were more than once forced to mime their songs in several TV appearances which had annoyed them so much. He remembered their in and out of the country concerts, how their fans around the world had screamed their names and changed each line of their songs.
He remembered staying all night with the three of them, drinking beer from cans and giggling at naughty magazines after long and exhausting nights of playing before their screaming and adoring fans.
Unbidden, his mouth started moving along with the music coming from the speakers on the stage. Andy was singing lead now and Brian felt a sharp pain in his chest when he recognized the opening lyrics to ‘Little Willy.’
He slowly opened his eyes and with his body following his heart instead of his mind, he started singing the song along with the guitarist. His voice, which had been damaged by overuse, overindulgence of alcohol and smokes and by the vicious attack that he’d suffered a long time ago, rang sweet and clear to his ears, just like when he started singing, though the sound was drowned out by the loud voices around him. But he didn't care.
This would be his last concert with Sweet and he decided that despite all the things that he had noticed about his ex-bandmates, he would enjoy the rest of the show to his heart’s content.
He was so lost in the song that he didn't notice a man focusing all his attention on him from the stage.
The concert ended with the fans getting their money’s worth. The crowd was beginning to disperse as Sweet’s crew started moving the gears off the stage while the band members rested and decompressed backstage.
Brian, with his hands inside the pockets of his pants, was walking along with the crowd out of the park when a crewmember suddenly approached.
“Excuse me, sir?” the crew greeted, politely. “Can I have a minute of your time?”
Brian arched an eyebrow, surprised to be accosted just as he was leaving. The guy was young and from the way he looked and talked at Brian he didn't seem to recognize him at all.
“Of course, what can I do for you?” He was curious what this man needed from him. Again, he didn't seem to recognize the ex-lead singer of Sweet at all.
“Someone asked me to look for you. He said he wants to meet and talk with you. Can you grant his request?”
Brian nodded. “Fine. Bring me to him.”
“Thank you. Please follow me, sir.” The guy turned around and started walking towards the row of tour buses to their left.
Brian shrugged and followed him.
A minute later, he found himself inside Sweet’s tour bus, sitting on one of the soft cushioned seats and feeling uncomfortable under the piercing stares of ex-bandmates and friends.
Did they recognize him? Shouldn't he look very different from before? The him with saggy and wrinkled skin, matted dishwasher blond hair instead of gold, runny eyes and a heartbeat which stuttered with each breath?
Brian didn't have long to agonize before Andy cleared his throat.
The guitarist looked as uncomfortable as Brian felt and for a vicious moment, the singer felt like the other man deserved every bit of the feeling. Who told him to ask a crew member to bring Brian to their tour bus?
“What's your name, lad?” the guitarist asked in a thin voice.
Brian was so intent on keeping his eyes on Andy that he didn't notice Steve throwing the guitarist a dirty look.
“Br–Bruce Campbell,” he answered, then found himself cringing. Why, for the love of God, did he lie?
Andy blinked. After a short bout of silence, he cleared his throat again. “Well, Bruce. I sent Neil to get you because I wanted to talk with you. I mean…you look like someone that I know so I got curious and asked him to bring me the blond guy in the Mickey Mouse hoodie.”
“That's all?” Brian asked in disbelief. Did Andy not really recognize him?
Andy nodded. “That's all. Sorry for wasting your time.” He looked so contrite that Brian started feeling bad for his ex-friend.
He tried to smile but grimaced instead. The situation was so awkward that he didn't know what to do next. “It’s fine. I’m actually happy to have the opportunity to meet you and Steve Priest and Mick Tucker and talk with the three of you! I’m a fan of your band! I’m actually a fan of Brian Connolly but I didn't realize that he had already left until I arrived here in London. You see, I’m actually not from around here.” Oh dear, look at him lying. Hopefully none of the three would realize it because he would be screwed. All of them have tempers as hot as Mt. Vivicius and heavy fists to match it.
Steve snorted. Mick slapped his arm. Then the drummer smiled widely at him. “We’re also happy to meet a fan for the first time, Bruce! I hope you enjoyed the show today!” he said cheerfully.
Steve smiled too, but his smile was all teeth, like a shark waiting for a meal. “Nice to meet you, Bruce. We love our fans. All of them,” he said, sweetly. Very sweetly.
Brian felt a shiver run down his spine. Perhaps…?
He mentally shook his head. No, there was no evidence that they recognized him.
Andy slowly closed his eyes and blew a long breath. He rubbed his eyebrows, looking like he was about to get a headache.
He looked up and looked at Brian. “Did you enjoy the show?”
Brian stared at him. The question felt heavy, like there was more to it than what was said. “Yes, I did.” He really enjoyed the concert, despite noticing how the three members of Sweet had looked like they all wanted to be somewhere else. At least they performed professionally, despite the lack of extreme energy that he remembered Sweet had before he was fired.
Andy’s expression softened. “Then what do you think about joining us on this tour? If you have nothing else planned, then you can watch our next stops free and also ride with us. What do you think, Steve? Mick?”
“I’m good with it.”
“Yeah, I would like to have you with us, Bruce.”
Brian hesitated. He was already planning to take the nearest night train for Scotland. And when he reached Glasgow he could make the necessary arrangements to make sure that all the money that he had in banks and his royalties would be transferred to his wife and children so that they would be set for life even after Brian disappeared from their lives. And then he would start living incognito, making a new name and new life for himself among strangers.
But he could push back those plans for a few days later, right? There was no harm in accompanying his former bandmates and friends to their concerts. Besides, they were just being nice to a fan, even if said fan looked and sounded like their former lead singer. Andy, Steve and Mick have always been kind, especially to their fans.
And Bruce Campbell was just another fan that they felt like entertaining.
Or perhaps they were just bored and wanted some sort of distraction. And Brian felt like giving it to them.
He was surprised to realize that he had missed them more than he thought. There was no harm in spending a few days on the road with them, to have fun and interact with them as Bruce Campbell, wasn't there?
Brian nodded and smiled, his eyes shining with happiness. “I’ll be honored to join you on your tour, Mister Scott.”
As if a heavy burden was lifted off his shoulders, Andy's answering smile was as bright as the midday sun.