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Nyx
The moon would be full in two days and Hex was coming out of his skin. He knew Nyx could take a lot, but Hex had genuine concerns he might fuck him to death. Or pick a fight. He was so agitated that he decided to hit the gym hard and let Nyx get some much needed rest. His plan was to come home with dinner. He was on the treadmill having sick fantasies about a rotisserie chicken and a baguette.
When he felt a bit better, a bit of energy burnt off between a run and a lot of weights, Hex hit the shower and cleaned up to head home to Nyx. He stopped on the way to buy some flowers from a street vendor for Nyx and was admiring them when a woman came close. He heard her, then smelled her, then turned to look into frightened eyes.
Help me she mouthed at him and his senses went on high alert. All that time in the gym was for nothing. He gave her a nod and started scanning behind her. He didn't need to search. A chavvy bloke with stubble and a stupid hat walked up boldly, not even half Hex's size.
"You dumb bitch, get back here," he said, close enough to reach for her. Hex remembered strong arming her behind him and stepping forward...
* * *
Nyx's phone rang, the ID flashing Police. Hex sat by the sergeant's desk in cuffs, wrists and ankles, and those connected by a chain so short he needed to lean forward.
"I can try Dess again, Hex," the man offered. "I think it might go to voicemail. Do you have a third try?"
Hex heard the tone ring again, his stomach squirming.
"No, he'll answer," he wished.
When he felt a bit better, a bit of energy burnt off between a run and a lot of weights, Hex hit the shower and cleaned up to head home to Nyx. He stopped on the way to buy some flowers from a street vendor for Nyx and was admiring them when a woman came close. He heard her, then smelled her, then turned to look into frightened eyes.
Help me she mouthed at him and his senses went on high alert. All that time in the gym was for nothing. He gave her a nod and started scanning behind her. He didn't need to search. A chavvy bloke with stubble and a stupid hat walked up boldly, not even half Hex's size.
"You dumb bitch, get back here," he said, close enough to reach for her. Hex remembered strong arming her behind him and stepping forward...
* * *
Nyx's phone rang, the ID flashing Police. Hex sat by the sergeant's desk in cuffs, wrists and ankles, and those connected by a chain so short he needed to lean forward.
"I can try Dess again, Hex," the man offered. "I think it might go to voicemail. Do you have a third try?"
Hex heard the tone ring again, his stomach squirming.
"No, he'll answer," he wished.
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"Or I could go fight him for you..." he offered as Nyx walked away.
What went unsaid was To the death...
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Nyx pretended not to hear that. The last thing he wanted was a fight. No, he needed to navigate this with care.
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He knew Nyx was there. He could feel him. Feel his eyes on him.
He pretended he couldn't, though.
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Climbing onto the bed, Nyx settled in beside him, curling up close against Willy's side. He said nothing though, content to just be near the other man. He didn't want to talk about Hex, didn't want a fight. He just wanted to be near Willy for a while.
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Willy enjoyed the warmth of Nyx, but he also enjoyed the last three tracks of the album before he even acknowledged him.
"Have a spat?" he asked, eyes still closed, headphones still on.
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"No," Nyx said honestly, a bit sulky about having been ignored. "I told him I wanted to be with you tonight."
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That got him to open his eyes and turn his head to look at him.
"Why?" he asked, clearly confused.
He slipped of the headphones.
"What's wrong with him? Are you bored already?" he asked.
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"I just thought you might miss me. ...I miss you," Nyx said softly. "I can go back to him, if you like..."
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"Of course I miss you," he replied, still confused. "I thought you were having a good time. I've nearly got the album done."
Nyx calling Hex a babysitter was painfully appropriate.
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"Do I not get a say on this one?" Nyx frowned, sitting up a bit. "What about my tracks? You can't have it 'nearly done' without me."
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"We've got all the tracks down. I'm mixing," he said.
It had, in fact, gone twice as fast without Nyx flitting around. Willy didn't feel he was missing any sort of contribution a bored, high, horny nymph could give at this point.
But he could feel Nyx's indignance.
"Do you want to hear?" he offered.
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"I usually help," Nyx replied. "It's like you don't respect my art," he huffed, flopping down onto the pillow again.
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Willy watched him fall.
"What is wrong with you?" he asked. "You know I know what your art is. It's not like I cut you out. You were getting railed by Rex in there, what did you think I'd do with my time?"
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Nyx huffed.
"It's not like I spent all my time with Hex. You could have asked for my input," he argued.
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"You could have come in here at any point, Nyx. There's a reason I'm asking what's wrong, because I've been your last choice, too," he snapped back.
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"You brought me home someone new! You knew I'd get distracted," he argued."You can't be mad at me for doing exactly what you expected, Will. That's hardly fair."
He was sulking now, agitated. "Put out the album however you want. Maybe I'll finally put out my own album," he decided.
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"Yeah, okay," Willy scoffed.
He sat up and kicked his legs off the bed so he could grab his clove cigarettes.
"In, what, five years?"
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Nyx watched him a long moment.
"Or next month," he said. "I already have nearly a full album ready to go. Label even picked out a single. I put them off though, said we came first. Me and you, that we were a team."
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"Shut up. You're not serious," he said, his voice growing colder.
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"Why do you think Vince had me back at the studio? He heard that one of mine you rejected. Said I should lay it down anyway. ...Then I found a few more you never liked. Next thing I knew we had a full album," Nyx shrugged.
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"You're fucking serious," he realized. "What the fuck, NYC? Were you going to say anything? Ever?"
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"Why would I? It wasn't coming out. But maybe it should. It's all shit you said you hated or didn't work for you. Why shouldn't I put it out? You're not the only bloody musician here," Nyx huffed, getting up and vanishing into his room for a moment, only to return with a flash drive.
"That's the single," he said, dropping it onto the bed.
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He took it and immediately plugged it in, pulled it up, and put on his headphones. He closed his eyes and listened, then began it again.
When he finally stopped and looked at Nyx, there was real, deep hurt in his eyes.
"I can't believe you let him produce you," he said, his voice soft with pain.
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"When I tried playing it for you, you said there was nothing there!" Nyx argued. "He saw something in it, told me he thought it was good. So I brought him everything you said was no good, and... And I think it's a solid album. I think I'm better than you give me credit for."
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"Than I give you credit for? What are you talking about? We have equal credit. Since when have you wanted to go solo? What in the fuck is going on?" he asked, tearing his headphones off his ears and shooting to his feet. "Is that what he's telling you? You're a talent on your own? You could be your own star? Did he suck your dick, too, or was he just blowing smoke up your ass?"
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