Chapter 1: Victim of changes
Chapter Text
I have always been terribly shy.
When some friends visited my parents, I’d always run away. I used to have many dens in my house, but the attic has remained my favourite one for years. I would come out of my den only when the guests left or hid.
I had few friends; it was hard for me to trust someone fully, the person had to earn it and it could take years. But once the trust was lost, it could never be built up once again. When one disappoints me once, I am not able to trust once again.
All my relationships have always been unstable and labile; I had girlfriends and I had boyfriends, I didn’t complain about the lack of attention. But I have never opened my heart to anyone, my inside. I was afraid of being hurt but I’d never confessed that out loud.
Deep down I was a really sensitive person and it was easy to hurt me. However, on the outside I kept the appearances, clenched my teeth and kept going on, clawing my way.
I was a typical Scorpio, difficult and complicated, many couldn’t stand my tough character. It wasn’t easy to stand me, sometimes I couldn’t even stand myself.
The only person who accepted me unconditionally the way I was, was Rob.
Rob and I have known each other since we were children, we were even born in the same hospital in Birmingham. Only with the difference that he was born at the end of August and I at the end of October; however, he was a premature baby he had to stay in the incubator for a couple of weeks and I guess this is when we first met.
Our mothers worked together as nurses and our fathers drank beer together. When my parents would leave somewhere without knowing what to do with me, they’d always leave me with the Halfords. The same thing worked with Rob and later on with his younger sister, Anne.
I and Rob often passed for twin brothers. Same age, blond hair. Only the colour of our eyes differed but it happens with fraternal twins. Sometimes we were having someone on that we were brothers, and no-one would ever surmise anything and we had a lot of fun. But in reality, we were as different as night and day.
He was very mature with opposition to me. Always meticulous and careful. He put me out of trouble thanks to his diplomatic skills and he also kept me out of trouble. Rob would always think before he did something – I’d always think afterwards, only when I felt how something hurts. I’d put my hands directly into the fire to see if it burns – for him, the only conjecture was enough.
Rob’s room was well-organised; the books were standing in their order on the shelves, the music albums were standing, grouped by bands' names and year of release. His handwriting was neat, small letters with flourishes. I was writing with hieroglyphs and my room has always looked as if a herd of cows ran throughout it.
For Rob, time was an inviolability, he was never late for school, there must have something serious happened if he was late. For him, three o’clock is three o’clock. For me, though, it could be as well five past three or quarter past three. I could’ve never done anything on time.
Rob was a lark; his biological clock would always wake him up at seven, even during summer break. When he wanted to wake up earlier, he had to set the alarm clock, but only then. I was an owl: I’d go to bed late and wake up late, I liked sleeping long and this is why I was often late for school.
Rob was an honours student, he did it well especially in general science that required clear and logical thinking. He’d go to all those mathematical and physics competitions, get the distinctions or stand on the podium. I didn’t buckle down to learning, I hated school. I’d play truants very often. Rob also hated school but he had a different way to express it – by going to it. Even when he had 38 degrees of fever, he toiled towards the school and stayed at classes. Sometimes he skipped off along with me, but he’s always had a good excuse for his absence and teachers always believed him. But for me – never. Even when I spoke the truth.
Rob didn’t like changes; he liked all that was still, the routine. He was a planner and he could be very accurate with his plans. I preferred a change, spontaneity. I liked to be surprised, find something new to do. However, deep inside I missed some stability in my life.
I could’ve always relied on him. Rob would never blab a secret, I knew he wouldn’t say it even if subjected to the worst torture. That was our common feature – I was also a very loyal person. Once I’m attached to someone, it’s hard for me to drift apart.
He had a great memory. To everything. He could recite whole monologues from Shakespeare’s works, poems, recall people’s faces, melodies, digits. I was poor at remembering the faces or digits but I did well at remembering melodies. It would happen often that I’d hum a song and he would snap fingers and say the title. We complemented each other.
Rob seemed to be proper and dutiful – and he was like that – however, I was the only one who knew about his inner hesitations and dilemmas. He wasn’t the type who’d go for broke, risk or make brave and bold decisions. We were similar in that way – we had many inner conflicts if pressured.
We both were intelligent and clever but every one of us in his own way; Rob had more logical-mathematical intelligence, I relied more on existential and intra-personal intelligence which he lacked. We both lacked interpersonal intelligence and social skills connected to this, however, we were both musical smart; and this is how we spent most of our time together.
Rob had a beautiful voice. He’d sing everything – beginning with opera arias to some shitty radio pop songs. His parents, fortunately, decided to do something with his talent, found him a teacher, sent him to sing in a church choir. He also played the piano, I taught him how to play the guitar. However, it was the singing that was his greatest love and talent. I loved the guitar and I gave whole my soul and heart to it. I loved Jimi Hendrix above all, I’d play his solos for hours until my father came back from work and started yelling at me. My parents weren’t as enthusiastic as Rob’s parents when it came to music. They said that my guitar was a boondoggle and I should focus on something more serious and grow up in the end.
Always the same words: you could grow up finally, Kenneth.
Rob’s room was my safe haven, he was my tower of strength. Our fathers weren’t good to us, they liked to hit us from time to time, especially while drunk. Rob endured it somehow, he’d clench his teeth and forgive but I couldn’t be this way; I rebelled, especially when I started filling out. I even started hitting my father back what would end in dust-ups and calling the police.
After such contretemps, I’d always run away to Rob for two, three days. He understood, never asked until I told him everything. He was a great listener.
Robert John Arthur Halford. Everyone called him Rob, he let only me call himself by his full name, he didn’t really like it. And I was called K.K., I let only him call me Kenny. It worked both ways.
Rob. My dearest friend. I fell in love with him when we were around fifteen years old. Then nothing was the same anymore.
Chapter 2: Don't go
Chapter Text
We come from the working class. Working class heroes. We were brought up among drunkards, junkies and street gangs. People who hadn’t succeeded in life. Who had to sweat their guts out working full-time for a dozen or so hours a day just to make ends meet.
There was no place for music, love or art in such place.
"You have to be tough, Kenneth," my father kept repeating over and over again. "A man must be tough. You cannot cry, do you understand? Only the weak cry."
When I was little, I used to cry. Then I cured myself of it, I didn’t want to give this old idiot any satisfaction while he was thrashing me or my mum.
The day he was thrown out of work, all hell broke loose.
He was kicked out because he drank. And while at home, having nothing better to do, he kept drinking even more. The vicious circle. And because I always was within reach, he’d thrash me more frequently, he wanted me to bring him the alcohol while he was so slaughtered that he couldn’t move and go to the shop himself.
This is when I started running away to Rob's more often than usual. His father started actively looking for a job for my father (and that wasn’t easy), so we were often alone at home with Anne. However, she’d hung with her friends, so we spent a lot of time alone with each other. Just like siblings. Or a couple.
I and Rob shared one bed – nothing new, we had been doing so from time immemorial. He had a bed-settee and we were slim so we fit in perfectly well.
But then it already had another overtone for me.
One day I woke up with a hard-on. It was such a painful one. Jesus Christ, what now, I thought, funky. Rob’s quiet breath told me that he was still deeply asleep. I moved away from him quietly and tiptoed quickly to the bathroom. I locked myself there, I was sleepy but aroused as hell. We had been talking long at night, then Rob had fallen asleep but I still had been lying and wondering.
And then in the morning, such a thing happened. Goddammit.
When I relieved myself, I came back to the room quietly. I slid under my duvet, turned my back to Rob. I was still a bit aroused and that frightened me the most.
"Everything’s okay?" he mumbled, half-asleep.
I was hoping he didn’t notice anything.
I told him that everything was alright, that I’d been gone for a pee, he mumbled something more and fell asleep again. I couldn’t fall asleep for the next half an hour.
What the hell was that? It happened to me at Rob’s for the first time. Sure, we were at such an age when everything could cause an erection, even a gust of wind, but it was no explanation. I felt that something was wrong, that something had changed.
However, I still had no idea what it was exactly.
When I woke up, Rob was already gone. He woke up early, as usual, his biological clock didn’t let him sleep longer. I crawled out of bed only at ten o’clock, wondering if what had happened was just a dream or maybe a reality.
When I heard a familiar singing, I couldn’t hold a smile. And it was sung in canon! Anne kept singing the same thing as Rob but with a little time delay – they both sounded like an angel duet but I had to admit that Rob knocked spots off his sister.
"It’s not that easy!" Anne groaned when Rob started singing and she kept making mistakes.
"So let’s try once again."
I was sitting on the stairs, dressed only in pants and a vest, listening to them. It was a beautiful moment. I just closed my eyes and was all ears. I remained invisible for them but only for the time being.
"KK’s a fly on the wall!" I heard suddenly, it was Anne who noticed me.
"Damn, you found me!" I laughed and walked downstairs. "Don’t bother me, it was great to listen to both of you singing."
Rob put his hands on his hips and screwed up his eyes. As if he kept an eye on me. I felt warmth on my face.
When I was eating breakfast, Anne and Rob arranged a competition who’d scream louder. They had been doing so since I could remember. They got along very well but they quarrelled sometimes, just like it is between the siblings. I had an older brother, it seemed to be fun to have someone like that, that he’d defend me or intercede when needed, introduce some good music. Nothing of that kind, my brother was a boring person and a coward. He’d never chatted back to my father. Sometimes I wondered if we really were related.
Rob, of course, won the competition, he could raise his voice higher than Anne who was a girl after all. It made me wonder and it fascinated me; he had such an unusual voice.
Then we watched some TV and in the evening we went to the city centre. I whipped a few cans of beer from the shop (after all we were just poor kids from the working class), whereupon we walked to the park to get drunk and then we’d think something up. Rob was poor at stealing or lying so it was me who always had to do it. I wasn’t proud of myself but I knew that when I become a famous musician I’d return all the money.
I played in several bands back then, all of them based on Hendrix or Led Zeppelin’s music, nobody did anything particularly original and I complained about it. I had lots and lots of my pieces, Rob helped me to write the lyrics and sometimes – after a long persuasion – he sang them to me. I loved those moments; while he was singing my songs. I couldn’t persuade him to join a band, he was so stubborn (just like me), sometimes I had to persuade him to do something for weeks.
We met my friend Ian Hill in the park, he hung with his mates. I played with him from time to time, he was a great bass player. Rob also knew him, he was Anne’s boyfriend. Rob didn’t usually like all his sister’s boyfriends but he accepted Ian fully and he even liked him. If it came to Rob or me, it was a great achievement.
Ian invited us to a party at someone’s home. We agreed because we had nothing better to do.
There was a lot of people there and neither I nor Rob liked such a crowd so we quickly hid in a corner and we were getting drunk there. However, we didn’t stay unnoticed because in the end, some guy we’d never seen before approached us, started talking that he’d heard Rob singing and he’d like him in his band. The others seized upon the topic, surrounded us and started persuading Rob to sing something. I saw him get tense, he didn’t like much noise around himself and all of a sudden he was in the spotlight.
"Fuck you all," he said in the end. He didn’t usually swear but when he already did it was quite vulgar and swears were said in a row. "What shall I sing?"
He had to choose a song by himself. Angry and tipsy, he climbed up the table and closed his eyes. I was staring at him, not believing my own eyes. When he took a glance at me, I felt aroused.
"There’s a lady who’s sure all that glitters is gold…"
Everyone fell silent only when he opened his mouth. Stairway to heaven, the most beautiful rock ballad in the world. Rob could easily compete with Robert Plant with his voice, everybody knew it.
And while he was singing, I realised I was in love with him.
That discovery was so sudden and so frightening that I almost panicked and left. Dear God. All in all, I thought, I probably had been loving him all that time. But, well, we were raised together, we grew up together, we were brought up almost like brothers. Almost. We weren’t related after all.
I had no idea what to do with it. That sudden awareness caused havoc, I was in a muddle, frightened.
When Rob stopped singing, he jumped down the table and everyone started clapping, they wanted an encore. He headed towards the exit, cold and adamant, his head up, something that didn’t fit in his image. He gripped my elbow and led me outside. I was still in such a state of shock that I couldn’t dissent or even say anything.
A cold gust of wind sobered us up a bit. He stopped. I stopped too.
"You were brilliant," I said in a single breath.
"Now everybody knows," he laughed. "Oh my God, Kenny, don’t look at me like that."
I quickly looked away; I completely had no idea what to do. It was him whom I told everything and then? How could I tell it to him? I couldn’t. And that was the worst part.
"I have to tell you something," we blurted out almost in the same moment. We stared at each other for a second, we laughed but not in a choir. We quickly sobered down again.
"I’m leaving."
"I love you."
We kept staring at each other for a long while, standing in the middle of the road in the middle of the night, keeping silent. I saw his eyes getting bigger, mine probably too. Rob did some unidentified gesture with his hand, opened his mouth to say something but he couldn’t find the right words.
"What?" I groaned. "How come are you leaving…?"
"I have to," he shifted from one foot to the other. "I’ll come back as soon as possible. I promise."
"Where to…?"
He shook his head, blond curls fell on his face.
"I cannot tell you cause you’d be willing to visit me. I can’t have any contact with the outside world for half a year at least. I’m sorry, there’s… something wrong with me."
How come he was wrong? What did he have in mind? Suddenly I felt as if I knew nothing about him as if he was a complete stranger. Rob knew everything about me. And what did I know about him-?
But I still loved him, without a doubt.
I could do one thing before our lives would go separate ways – I kissed him. Long and lingeringly. He shivered and tensed up but returned the kiss. A warm shiver went up and down my spine. It was the best feeling in the world. So real. And deep. I felt so alive as if I had never kissed anyone before.
"I’m sorry, I’m so sorry," he mumbled, tearing loose from me.
Then he ran away into the black night. It was the last time I saw him.
In the morning he was already gone.
Chapter 3: Dying to meet you
Chapter Text
"You have to forget, Kenneth. Try."
My mum was looking at me with sympathy, stroking my hair. She’d do it very rarely but she felt pity for me. She knew how strongly attached to Rob I was.
I was downcast the next few days. I didn’t want to go out of bed, I didn’t want to eat, I wanted nothing. I just played the guitar and walked over to the Halfords’ house, still asking about Rob. Mrs Halford was very kind to me, she’d invite me for a tea many times, and I sometimes agreed and sometimes not. Being inside his house was still painful, so fucking much.
"Where’s he gone to?"
It was the question I kept asking over and over again. The second one was: Why is he gone? Mrs Halford couldn’t answer that.
"He’ll write to you anyway when the time comes," she’d say but I treated it as just putting me off.
I didn’t believe in that. I believed in nothing.
The school ended in July and then my father decided that I should come on my own, it meant to find a job. I knew perfectly well that he’d take away all my savings and then spend them on alcohol, so I said no and it ended with a domestic row.
And then he kicked me out of the home.
Maybe that’s even better, I thought. I could start looking for Rob on my own.
I was heartbroken, I kept looking for him everywhere, I called every living Halford in the UK. No one saw him. He dissolved into thin air.
After three months I gave it a miss. The last thing I did was to give Rob’s parents my new address and ask them to hand it to him. They promised to do it.
I also asked Ian to try screwing something out of Anne. He succeeded in the first moment, however, Rob’s sister was too intelligent for such tricks. The only thing we found out was that Rob was gone for treatment. However, it left more questions than answers – what was his illness? Why had he never told me about it? How come had I never noticed a thing…?
I met Anne one day. I asked her all the questions and not only. She shook her head.
"Rob will tell you himself when the time’s right," she said.
"Why are you all making such a mystery out of it?!" I raised my voice which faltered at the end. "He was like a family to me. Why won’t just tell me for hell’s sake?"
"It’s for his own good, KK. You’ll understand."
I was impatient, I didn’t want to wait.
But as time went on, I learnt how to live without him. It was just like living without one hand or leg, I still felt that horrible void inside me but I existed somehow. I tried to start living anew but it wasn’t that easy – when my anchor, my support was gone, I fell apart.
One day I was sitting in a pub, drinking beer, we’d just finished the concert so we could have the alcohol in the house. Some tall dark-haired guy approached me with a kind smile on his face. He patted my arm and sat down next to me.
"Your play was great," he said plainly. I nodded, not knowing what more to say. "Glenn," he introduced himself, we shook our hands.
"Kenneth. But I prefer K.K.," I mumbled.
The conversation started to develop slowly but freely. I warmed up after two more beers and from one word to another it turned out that I and Glenn had a lot of common friends, that he played with Ian and formed a new band with him. And that, well, they’d like me to play in it.
"What’s the name of the band?" I asked.
"Judas Priest," he said.
"Mhm, just like Dylan’s song," I smiled finally. "The Ballad of Frankie Lee and Judas Priest. That sounds like Ian’s idea," I shook my head.
Glenn was waiting for the final reply. I took a slug of beer, thought for a while.
"I’ll think about it," I said in the end.
Chapter 4: Take these chains
Chapter Text
It was three years later when our paths crossed again.
Ian called me from time to time, just to make sure if I wanted to play with him but I refused him every time. I started with two bands with which I was hoping something would work but it went off half-cocked every time. When we were just about to get a contract, suddenly someone had an argument about money or the label decided to have someone else instead of us.
I was fed up with it in the end, so I decided to join Ian. I had nothing to lose at all.
I was dead inside. Three years earlier something had died inside me, the wound on my heart was carelessly and sloppily sutured by time and outside I was kind and polite (by my own standards), the greatest guy. But there was nothing inside. When someone sometimes would get interested in me, then approach and start talking, he or she still had no idea of talking to a living dead. That my soul had died years ago.
So no one stayed with me for long – sooner or later everyone would find everything out. Tough, I thought. I didn’t force anyone to stay with me. The girls and boys would come and go and I was still the same, unchangeable.
Sometimes I was afraid that it would be like this forever.
But then I thought: would it even make any difference…?
It was three years already, but for me, it could as well be thirty – I’d feel exactly the same way.
I met Ian, Glenn and their drummer John in the flat of the first one to have a beer and talk a little. Rarely did we talk about what had happened. I didn’t want to and Ian stopped asking. Especially because he and Anne had split up some time ago and none of us had any information about the Halfords.
But for the time being.
"Do you even have a vocalist?" I asked, opening the can. "I know nothing about it," I smiled hesitantly and then met Ian’s eyes. I didn’t know what to think about that look. I frowned.
"Yeah, we do," John started babbling, switching the channels on the TV. "A phenomenal voice, I’m tellin’ ya. You won’t be disappointed. He’s Ian’s mate, some Robert, I don’t know ‘im well but Ian…"
"Robert-?" I asked hesitantly and then I saw Ian giving John a nudge.
"Hey, what for!"
"K.K., listen to me," Ian started but I already stopped listening to him; did we think about the same person? Was it even possible?
"Is it him?" I asked in sotto voce.
"Hey, what’s the matter?" Glenn butted in, not understanding a thing. "What’s wrong with Rob?"
"Tell me!" I raised my voice. I hadn’t behaved like that for a long time. Then I finally showed some emotions. I baffled everyone, started going to and fro around the flat, until Ian led me to the kitchen, to a more secluded place.
I was shivering. I didn’t control it.
"Ian, is that him? Is he back?" I asked and my voice faltered. Ian sighed.
"Yeah. He came back not so long time ago."
"Why didn’t you tell me?" I groaned. Ian shifted from one foot to the other. He was perplexed. "Ian, why?"
"I was afraid of your reaction, alright?" he blurted out with a sharp tone of voice. "I really want, no, we really want you to play with us. If I told you right from the beginning that he played with us, you’d never join us!"
I felt I had a lump in my throat. I leaned against the worktop behind me, it was ringing in my ears, it felt warm on my face. I had to brace something not to fall.
The band really wanted me in. It felt nice but on the other hand…
"You held it back from me," I said in a hoarse voice. It sounded strange as if it didn’t belong to me.
"Yeah, I’m sorry," he sighed. "I did it for the band’s good. I didn’t mean to deceive you."
I kept silent for a long while. It was still ringing in my ears.
"How long do you know…?"
"About… a month maybe. I met Anne in the city. She told me."
A month. I felt dizzy. Rob was there for a month and I knew nothing about it.
However, he hadn’t been giving any signs of life for three years. Why would he bother to tell someone about his return? He cut off, in an oner. He cut off, cutting some part of my personality at the same time, killing something in me forever.
"K.K., is everything alright?"
"Does he… does he know I play with you?" I asked.
Ian nodded.
"He does. He also wanted you to join us."
I scoffed and laughed; the laughter sounded empty and artificial.
"Oh, it’s so funny, innit," I hissed. "So fucking funny, don’t you think? Who the fuck does he think he is?" I talked, winding up, and my voice started faltering even more. I was angry, embittered. A hurt Scorpio was biting, it was the worst creature one could ever imagine.
But at least I started showing emotions. Those emotions, I should have released so many years ago, were coming out of me much too late. But I already didn’t feel so dead inside anymore.
"Is he coming? Will he be there too?" I asked, my voice trembling, tears of anger in my eyes. Ian was afraid to move, afraid to do anything, seeing me like that. He felt pity for me, I could see it in his eyes, but he had no idea what to do or how to help me.
"Yeah, he said he’d be late," he answered quietly.
I was breathing loudly, hungrily catching the breath. I was aching to smash something but I didn’t want to trash Ian’s flat.
"You know what, Ian?" my voice was strange, remote. "Tell him I don’t want to see him. Tell him to go to hell. He hasn’t given a sign of life for three years so let him leave me alone now."
I dashed out of the kitchen, grabbed my jacket. Glenn and John were looking at me questioningly.
"Hey, mate, what’s wrong? Where are you going?" I heard Glenn’s voice but I didn’t turn. I headed towards the front door so quickly as if it was burning. "Hey, K.K., wait-!"
"What the hell did you tell ‘im?!" John asked in an accusatory tone of voice. I dashed out of Ian’s flat, ran down the stairs, nearly killing myself on them.
It was a cold, dark night. But I didn’t bother it was cold; I walked straight ahead, wiping away the tears of anger and hopelessness rolling down my cheeks.
Chapter 5: Fire burns below
Chapter Text
I had no idea what to do. Ian hatched a clever plan but now I was in a horrible emotional swamp.
Rob was back; I had been waiting for this for so long. And when I finally started living somehow normally without him, he appeared all of a sudden, turning my world upside down again.
I was hopeless. We were supposed to play in one band. How? It was unrealistic. I stayed the whole next day in my flat, wondering what to do.
On one hand, I didn’t want to see him. Not after all what had happened. But on the other hand, I ached to see him again, pull him to myself, forget and get a promise that it was the one last time and it would never happen again.
I was wondering what he looked like, if he changed, if his voice changed, if he’d recognise me, what would he think about me after that kiss three years ago…?
So many questions kept swirling around my head, not letting me work normally during the day and not letting me sleep in the night. I was lying on my side, wondering, a place next to me was empty.
Then I decided to appear at a rehearsal in Ian’s flat. I couldn’t stay in that void any longer, postpone a decision, run away. I was a grown-up (but not mature yet) man and I had to shoulder the burden. I had to confront my past.
I came to Ian in midday. I felt as if I was going to be sentenced for a block – I was whole tense and paralysed, looking around carefully. Ian put a hand on my shoulder to allay me.
"He’s not there yet, take it easy."
"Easy to say," I snarled.
I went to a different room, I was just tuning my guitar when I heard that voice. The voice I couldn’t mistake with any other one. The voice I dreamt of in the nights.
I froze, felt my hands get sweaty. God, what now, I panicked. But there was no escape, I had to face it. Alone. But what I was supposed to tell him? I had been thinking about it the whole night through. But now all the things I prepared had evaporated. Tabula rasa in my head.
"Is he here?" the voice asked. I closed my eyes, tried to control my breath.
"He’s waiting for you in that room," Ian said.
"How did… how did he take it up?"
A sigh. My heart was hammering like crazy. It felt as if it was going to grind my lungs.
"Not so well. He’s embittered. You have to… just talk. It will do good, for both of you."
After a while I heard the steps approaching, then the door cracking. My pulse started racing even faster. I thought I was about to faint in a second. I was sitting with my back turned to the door, so I didn’t see him at the first moment. I knew he was standing there, wondering how to give utter to everything he wanted to say.
"Hello, Kenny."
I clenched my eyelids, took the guitar off my lap. I noticed my hands were shaking so I clenched them in fists. God. I had been dreaming about that moment for so long; and when it finally came, I had a lump in my throat and had completely no idea what to say.
I slowly turned to face him. I had to see him, that desire was the strongest of all.
I was nearly knocked off my feet with what I saw.
The figure that was standing there in a doorway was beautiful. He’d changed. He was taller and put on weight. He wasn’t as thin as he used to be, his face became round adequately, there were healthy blushes on his cheeks, his eyes were shining. He also had some ripped muscles on his arms. His hair was a bit shorter reaching his shoulders.
I knew he was also looking me up and down, beholding all the changes that had happened to me. For a while none of us dared to speak a word, we just kept staring at each other, speechless.
I had to turn away in the end because I knew I’d never been able to look back. It was a fight on its own.
"K.K…" he began hesitantly. "I… I’m sorry."
I turned on my heel and looked at him again. I was distressed, furious. My whole body was crying but the eyes remained dry.
"Do you really think that’s enough?" I asked and my voice faltered.
"No. I owe you some explanations."
"For hell’s sake, Rob!" I raised my voice. "Three years. I’ve been waiting three fuckin’ years for you. And all of a sudden you come back as if nothing had happened… You treated me... I felt like rubbish. You just disappeared. And left me."
"Kenny, it’s not like this…" he began and his words caused another explosion. It’d been three years since such strong emotions tossed me. It was like a sudden eruption of a dormant volcano. I wanted to scream, stomp and smash things around.
"Like what?! You left without a single word! How was I supposed to feel?!"
He bit his lower lip.
"I didn’t want to leave you. But I had to. It wasn’t my decision…"
I started shivering. Just like two days earlier. I couldn’t control it.
"You didn’t even write to me," I said, my voice strange and remote.
Rob looked at me reproachfully.
"What?! It’s you who didn’t write me back even once!"
I was staring at him in disbelief.
"I have never got any fucking letter," I hissed. "For the first half a year I checked the fucking postbox every day, I waited for the fuckin’ postman. He’d never brought a thing. So don’t you dare lie into my face that you were writing to me!"
"But I did! I wrote the first letter after half a year! I sent everything to your parents’ address."
I stopped shivering; it was something new.
"You really never got a thing…?"
"I handed your parents my new address. They were supposed to give it to you."
Rob shook his head.
"I’ve never got anything. I used to write to your old home address. I wrote six letters in total. Each was without any answer so… I simply stopped writing."
"You’re lying."
He looked at me reproachfully. I’d never blamed him for lying. I felt awful about it. Once I trusted him fully. But now it changed. I couldn’t believe anything he said.
"I’m not lying, Kenny. I’ve never lied to you."
"I wish I could believe you. Really. But I just can’t."
We kept silent again. Rob dropped his gaze, rubbed his forehead.
"Ask your parents. Or your brother. And then accuse me of having lied to you."
I nodded my head. That was what I was going to do. Rob sowed doubt in me: what if he really had been writing to me? But then why would my parents never hand me those letters? How could they do such a thing to me? They knew perfectly how strongly attached to Rob I was.
"Why did you leave?"
Rob embraced himself with his arms as if he wanted to give himself some support.
"I left to be treated," he replied quietly, avoiding my eyes.
"For such a long time-?"
"Yeah. There were problems with a diagnosis."
"I’ve never noticed you were ill."
"K.K., for fuck’s sake!" he exploded in the end. Rarely did Rob explode like that, he was usually an oasis of serenity. His sudden behaviour change perplexed me. "I was being treated on a fuckin’ funny farm! I was mad! You happy?!"
I was looking at him silently. His words didn’t reach through to me for a while.
Rob sat down on an amp, buried his face in his hands. I felt as if the whole world started spinning around. I had to lean against the wall not to lose my balance.
"What do you mean…?" I asked in a weak voice.
"I’m a fuckin’ madman," Rob said sarcastically, taking a look at me.
"What… what did you suffer from?"
"It’s not worth talkin’ about," he sighed. "My thoughts were tangled like cables. Now I feel better. I’ll never be completely normal but I feel like a new man. It did me the world of good, being there."
"You’ve… you’ve never said anything," I groaned.
"Yeah, true. I’ve never complained. I didn’t want to… why would I worry you."
"We were best friends," I reminded him.
"Yeah, we were, indeed."
We kept silent again, looking at each other. My anger passed, my bitterness dropped. I really wanted to forgive him, forget and live as we used to. But before, I had to do one more thing.
"I need to… I’ll go to my parents."
"Now?"
"Yeah, now. I need to know. I have to find the truth."
"I’ll wait for you."
I already opened my mouth to protest but then I thought it would be better if I did it on my own. I didn’t want to enmesh Rob in my family conflicts.
"Just don’t leave again," I said in sotto voce.
"I’m not going anywhere this time."
Chapter 6: The rage
Chapter Text
I carefully went inside the house I hadn’t been in for over three years.
I didn’t even come for Christmas. I’d rather spend it with my mates, drinking. I preferred it to that insalubrious atmosphere at home, drunk father and my siblings that let him push everyone around.
I didn’t belong there. It wasn’t my life.
The house seemed empty. I knew that my parents were at work (supposing my father had a job), but it was weird that there was completely no one in. Not even my brother or sisters (yeah, I also had two younger sisters but – surprise, surprise – we didn’t have good contact with one another).
"Mum, is that you?!" suddenly I heard my brother’s voice from upstairs.
"No, it’s me, K.K."
After a while I saw my brother, completely astonished by my presence. He kept staring at me as if he’d just seen an extraterrestrial. I crossed my arms on my chest.
"What are you doin’ ‘ere…?"
"Can’t I visit my own home?" I asked ironically. Adrian frowned.
"It’s just… you haven’t been ‘ere for so long."
"Well, I’d like to remind you that father kicked me out. In case you forgot."
"I do remember. But… why don’t you even come on holiday? Mum would like to see you."
"There’s nothing left for me here, Adrian," I mumbled, walking towards the kitchen. I reached for a box my mum used to put all the letters in. I started browsing through them. "It’s not my home anymore."
"What are you lookin’ for…?"
When I looked through all of the ones from the box, I turned to face him.
"My friend, Rob Halford, d’you remember ‘im?"
Adrian nodded hesitantly.
"He used to write to me. At this address. Where are the letters?"
The question was clear. I knew it was the only way to find out if any letters came.
"I’m not quite sure," he began. "Parents might've thrown ‘em out. I can remember them opening some of your letters. I mean, dad opened it. Mum was against it. But… it was maybe two years ago or so, why would…"
So Rob used to write to me. He did and my father – that idiot – opened my private letters. I started shaking with rage.
"For fuck’s sake! How could he?! How could you let him do it!"
"K.K., you know what he’s like…" Adrian started wriggling. I nodded and then headed upstairs, directly towards my parents’ bedroom.
"I know it perfectly well! This is exactly why you haven’t seen me here for three years."
I dashed into the room, looked around. Two separate beds, night tables. Two empty beer bottles. Stacks of magazines and other waste paper piling up on the windowsills.
"What are you goin’ to do-?"
"Stop askin’ stupid questions and help me find those damn letters."
I started looking through all those stacks of magazines but found nothing. Then I got to the night table. In the upper drawer, I only found some unnecessary rubbish, some strings, lighters, friction tape. But the lower one was locked. I prised it and it opened. It wasn’t the first time I’d done it.
I took out everything that was inside. Lots of letters, writings from the tax office or court. Debts, debts and even more debts. Bills. Terminations of employment, one, two and three. Registration and discharge from the hospital. Dear God, what a family.
The thing I was looking for was also there.
All six letters. Exactly as many as Rob said it was. All opened, scraggy. I rose from my knees, furious, I wanted to kill my father with my own bare hands.
"Have you found it?"
I didn’t answer him. I looked at Adrian reproachfully and threw all the papers I had in my hands at him, but kept Rob’s letters close to myself.
"Why haven’t you told me about it?!"
"I didn’t know… I didn’t know where to find you! And father, he warned us not to tell you…"
"You’re pathetic," I snarled, slowly leaving the room. "and weak. You’ve never been able to give him lip, say ‘no’. And now he has you eating out of the palm of his hand. You ‘ave to give him all the money you earn, otherwise, he’d kick you out, as he did to me."
"At least I’m not a drifter and ‘ave somethin’ to eat," he mumbled.
"And I am free from this pathology and can do what I really love."
I walked downstairs, Adrian didn’t follow me. I cast him the last, fleeting glance and left the house, relieved. I didn’t want to come back there ever again.
Chapter 7: Before the dawn
Chapter Text
Rob was waiting for me.
I looked at him, I didn’t know what to say. I felt like a fool after having accused him of lying to me. Rob never lied. At least not to me. He was hopeless at that.
He stared at me, minor and oneiric. He was beautiful. I was so happy that he was there with me again.
He embraced me without a single word, I held him on his waist, hid my face somewhere between his neck and shoulder. He understood. He understood me perfectly. As he always did.
"I've found… I found them," I said after a long while of silence. "I feel dreadful. I’m sorry."
"It’s okay. You had the right not to believe me."
I kissed his jawbone. He looked at me, I could see relief in his eyes. He was back, now it could only get better. He wiped my invisible tears away, kissed my eyelids as if he wanted to kiss all the sadness and bitterness away from me. It helped. His touch and presence worked like a balm for my shattered nerves.
"Those three years ago… I told you something then."
"Yeah, I can remember."
"It’s… still valid. I’d like to know your answer."
Rob smiled and then pointed at the letters I was still holding.
"Open this one," he said, choosing one of them. "The answer’s in the first paragraph."
I did what he told me, opened it with shaking hands and started reading.
After a while, I took my eyes off the letter and looked at him. He was smiling. And shining. That moment was beautiful.
It was him who began that kiss. It positively astonished me, I returned it, pulled him close to myself. And, God, that sudden relief. Those damn three years consigned to history. Now everything that counted was that Rob was back, he came back to me, safe and sound. Yeah, nothing else mattered at that moment. I felt happy. Finally.
Chapter 8: Locked in
Chapter Text
Suddenly I had a reason to get out of bed. Suddenly everything had changed. Me, the eternal pessimist, was suddenly walking around with a smile on his lips.
"You’re shining," Ian said at one time. "As if you were a new man…"
"I probably am," I laughed.
I was in love. Nothing really compares to this feeling. It’s like a propellant – suddenly you want to do everything. Feel that you can move the mountains.
I and Rob were like two opposite poles, each time we saw each other there were sparks between us, it was uncontrollable; and it was strange, confusing, I felt dazed. And it made me wonder because on one hand we were brought up almost like brothers, we knew everything about each other and, theoretically, we shouldn’t feel such an attraction to each other; but on the other hand, maybe that unusual bond between us was a reason why I wanted to see him twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week and I never had enough of him.
Rob’s ardour was quite an astonishment for me too; when we were kids, he always seemed to be quite distant and cold when it came to sex or relationships. A typical Virgo. He had a few girlfriends but I knew it had always been platonic and Rob had never taken it seriously.
I thought that it could be connected to his mysterious illness and now, as he felt better, his libido increased, but I didn’t dare ask him about it. I was happy with what I had and what I got from him. And I got a lot. More than I could expect.
After a week after his comeback, we had our first sex.
We were quite tipsy, cheerfully drunk. We started kissing already on the way to my flat. It was fucking cold outside, the middle of November but I didn’t feel cold then. Alcohol and adrenaline were buzzing in my blood, raising the temperature of my body.
Rob stumbled over the threshold and fell, pulling me to himself. We started laughing like prize fools (who we actually were) and then started kissing again. It led to the inevitable and I wanted nothing more than that.
When I entered him, in the first moment he was like a dummy – he was just lying motionlessly. After a while, he warmed up. We made love three times in a row, still unsatisfied, but our bodies rebelled in the end.
"What have you done to me," Rob started laughing. His blond hair in a mess, his cheeks red and his eyes shining. He looked beautiful. "I can't recognise myself. I think about you and become aroused right away. I’ve never been like that before."
I took it as a compliment. But, well, I felt the same way as he did. Scarcely did I see him, when I got an almost immediate hard-on. The desire I felt for him, took leave of my senses.
Like a typical Scorpio, I needed that form of love. It was a foundation that built the relationship, consolidating two people. When we were kids, I used to tell him what I did and with whom. He always listened carefully, even though he didn’t need this kind of knowledge. However, he could sort the information in a great way.
I was wondering if I was his first boyfriend if it was his first time. I was curious as hell but I didn’t dare ask him. But Rob confessed it already the next morning:
"You have taken my virginity."
I choked when he said that. He had to pat my back so that I could catch my breath again. Then he laughed at me. I didn’t know what to tell him but I felt proud of myself that I had had that honour and be the first one in Rob’s life. As if I’d marked him somehow that since then he belonged only to me. I guess every man feels honoured in such a moment.
"It’ll never happen again, promise," I said and then we burst out with laughter again.
It was a tough and important time for all of us; we finally managed to get a contract with a label and went to London. We recorded during the night and slept during the day in a van because it was cheaper.
Sometimes it was hard for me to control myself. It seemed easier to Rob, at least he appeared so; he kept up appearances, he could play very well. At one point he even wanted to become an actor. I admired him; For me, it was hard to keep my hands to myself.
Ian and the others conjectured that something was going on between us. Well, it wasn’t hard to notice. There was such a strong tension between us that one day Glenn decided to make a joke about it:
"I can sense some oxygen, hydrogen, sulphur and some other elements, some chemistry in the studio…"
I took a look at Rob who was recording the last vocals to Rocka Rolla and couldn’t hear it. I laughed and brained at Glenn.
"Oh shut up."
When our debut album appeared in the shops, it was a breakthrough for us as a band; we were as happy as Larry. Even though the album sounded awful while listening to it (Rob said that it sounded as if we’d recorded it inside a refuse bin), we were proud of finally having our first long-play, the first child. Maybe a bit spoiled but who cared about it.
Glenn and Rob got along with each other. Glenn was almost four years older than us so he seemed a bit more mature, and also he and Rob adored an actor and both had seen all the films with him. Sometimes I was jealous of their friendship, quite irrationally so, but I was jealous in nature, I wanted to have Rob for my exclusiveness and not to share him with anyone. He knew it perfectly and sometimes taunted me about it:
"You’d like to dress me in some tracksuit, lock me inside a van and not let me leave."
"Of course, I would," I said with a grin.
And then we had our first European tour. That’s what it was called, it sounded quite seriously and we went our way, not really knowing what to expect.
That was a tour we were supposed to remember for a long time.
Chapter 9: Deep freeze
Summary:
This chapter is based on Priest's very first tour, true events. Described in "Defenders of the faith" biography by Neil Daniels.
Chapter Text
The tour covered Germany, the Netherlands and Norway – one concert in one country. It was foolish for logical reasons but who’d even think about it for that time. We also chose the coldest season with temperatures going down to minus twenty-eight degrees. It was so in Stuttgart and even worse in Scandinavia.
Rob got terribly ill. He felt awful already after the concert in Germany and he became completely sick on our way to Norway; we were scared that he’d have to be hospitalised in such a state, that he wouldn’t recover until the concert. He took the aspirin but it didn’t help. We scrimped on everything so to say, tried to pay only for the fuel and things, we brushed the teeth with snow in the mornings so it wasn’t difficult to catch a lurgy.
I have no idea how high his temperature was but when I touched his forehead, he was feverish. He was still sitting and putting his forehead against the window. I was terrified, he was trembling, sweaty and pale, I didn’t know what to do, how to help him. He wrapped himself up in a blanket and I pulled him close to myself, just to warm him up a little bit; he started fighting at first, saying that he didn’t want to infect me but then he stopped, he was too weak to oppose.
There were moments he got better, at least it seemed to me so. Then he asked where we were, he talked to us quite sensibly. But for most of the time, he was just trembling and sleeping. And coughing. So terribly. That sound tore apart both my ears and heart. If I could choose, I’d better get ill a hundred times than look at Rob suffering.
"He’ll get over it, take it easy," John said. "Primadonna will muddle through it."
I hated when he called him this way. We fought a couple of times about this.
"It’s okay," Glenn mumbled, putting his hand on my shoulder.
"It can be pneumonia," I hissed, rubbing my temples. I tried to focus, find a solution. "The untreated one can last for weeks."
"I know, I had it once," Glenn said, taking a look at sleeping Rob. My hopelessness was driving me mad, I was doing everything I could, I was giving him water and making compresses but he didn’t get any better.
When it comes to rescuing your beloved one, one always thinks that something could be done better, faster, more efficiently. And those pangs of conscience and killing hopelessness. I had to wait for Rob to get better and I was impatient, I hated waiting.
Quite irrationally so but I was afraid that Rob would die.
That I could lose him on that damn tour, far away from home, in a snowstorm. That thought kept coming back to me like a boomerang, making me paralysed, unable to breathe. It was then when I begged John – who was also our driver – to stop in the next city at the hospital. Then everybody would say as one that it was okay, that I should stop and that hospitalisation in a Norwegian hospital could cost us a whole load of money.
And then our van froze on the way.
Suddenly it became colder because the heating crashed. Every one of us wrapped up in blankets. And the van just stopped and didn’t want to start up again. We were terrified: kept in the middle of a snowstorm, in a foreign land where they spoke some strange language, with ill Rob and without any heating.
"For fuck’s sake."
Glenn perfectly summed up the whole case.
"We have to bring help," I said. I had a lump in my throat, my voice sounded remote. "That’s the only way."
"Where the fuck d’you wanna go?" John spit out, heating the wheel with his hand. He was hopeless too. He tried to start the engine a few times but to no avail. "We’re in the fuckin’ middle of nowhere!"
"And what else can we do? Sit and wait for redemption?" I asked ironically.
"K.K.’s right," Ian spoke up. "We have to go and call for help. Okay, I can go."
I was so damn grateful to him. It was fucking cold outside, there was a blizzard and we had only shoes on six-centimetre heels. But we had to move, otherwise, we’d freeze and the van would become a mortuary for us. What a nightmare.
I looked at Glenn and two roadies sitting in the back of the van; no one was in any hurry to go out during such weather but someone had to go with Ian.
I took a look at Rob who was lying curled up in a fetal position underneath two blankets. I gulped.
"Glenn," I began with a trembling voice. "take care of him. I’m goin’ with Ian. We’ll get help."
Glen nodded, knowing how important it was for me. I had tears in my eyes while putting on all the clothes; I didn’t want to leave Rob, but on the other hand, I wanted to help, someone had to get us out of there.
"Where are you goin’…?" I heard Rob’s weak voice.
"To bring help," I answered with a whisper. Everyone stared at us, it made me feel uneasy but then I had to ignore the nosy looks. "I’ll come back as soon as possible, okay? Please, hold on.
I stroked his arm, kissed his hair. He was still feverish.
"Don’t go."
His plea broke my heart.
"I’ll be back. Everything’s gonna be alright."
Mine and Glenn’s looks crossed. He seemed worried.
"Come on," John hurried us up. "Lingering won’t help him at all."
"Okay, shut up," Ian answered back, opened the van door and we left. Nothing was visible through that snowstorm. I turned the last time to take a look at Rob but Ian pulled me to his side. "We have to go, there’s no time to lose."
I have no idea for how long we were walking. I don’t even know how I managed to make every next step. I was afraid that leaving Rob there was the biggest mistake in my life. That was all my fault.
But I went on and the tears were rolling down my cheeks. They felt warm but froze up very quickly, so cold it was.
"They’ll be alright!" Ian tried to cheer me up. I appreciated that but it didn’t change the way I felt – I still felt crummy and irresponsibly. I wanted to howl.
When we finally saw the lights, I felt relieved. There were a few wooden houses and we knocked on the first one. A fine figure of a man with a beard opened the door and let us inside. There was his wife and children inside too, everyone came to see who the guests were. They all had so astonished faces that in a normal situation it would be impossible to hold the laughter. But then it was all about time; and, besides, we were both so frozen to the marron that we didn’t think fast enough. We didn't feel like laughing at all.
It was Ian who talked, he explained what had happened, that we froze on the road and we had an ill friend, that we came from England and were on our way to the concert and if they could help us. I was afraid they wouldn’t understand a thing from his double Dutch but fortunately, it was easy to communicate in English in Norway. The man nodded and said something to his wife.
"We will help you," he said shortly. "My wife will prepare something warm. I will find the battery."
God, I wanted to cry from joy. We quickly got into the man’s car, a huge jeep with four-wheel drive. Only when we drove, did we realise what a long what we had come; it seemed impossible. It was three, maybe even four kilometres.
When we arrived, I dashed out of the car like a prize idiot and stormed into the van to check how Rob was; he was trembling, feverish, his forehead like a furnace. I took him to the Norwegian’s car so that he could warm up a bit. Glenn also went with us, John stayed in to drive.
The man towed the van, drove it to his house. He opened the bonnet, started charging the battery.
"Go inside," he told us. "My wife prepared something for you. And take your friend inside," he added, pointing at Rob. "We will help him."
We were so damn grateful to him. When we went inside, coffee and sandwiches were already waiting for us. I put Rob gently on the sofa at the fireplace, gave him some warm coffee; he was like a rag doll then, one could do anything with him. It made me feel so afraid, I was wondering if he’d ever recover.
When we warmed ourselves and ate something, the host came back. We talked to him and his wife, they introduced themselves as Erik and Marit Svelstad, we told them who we were and what we were doing, everything. Erik said that we could sleep in our van, it was warm there already, that the battery was being charged and everything was going to be alright. Marit brought some pills and syrup for Rob. I said that I was going to give him this and that I wanted to keep watch on him during the night. I knew he was safe now, that we were in good hands but I preferred to see to everything alone.
The guys went to sleep in the van, I got a blanket and a pillow and slept on the floor at the sofa on which Rob was lying. It wasn’t very comfortable but at least I had an impression I did something for him.
It was early in the morning when I woke up. Strangely enough, I was quite well-rested. Only my back ached from sleeping on the floor but besides, I felt okay. I rolled over and noticed that someone was watching me. Rob. He looked so much better, he was smiling.
"Thank you," he whispered. I laid myself next to him on the sofa, kissed him.
That whole occurrence brought us even closer to each other (if it was even possible). I loved him and he loved me. It seemed to be so easy. In my Idyll, we were together forever. But the reality rectified my dreams, just as it usually happens.
Chapter 10: Burnin' up
Chapter Text
I first saw Rob dressed in leather soon after having recorded our second album, Sad wings of destiny. We were about to play a concert in Reading, we were so excited about it. We had a hotel next to the festival place and I shared a room with Rob.
One day I stormed into the room and saw him dressed in leather trousers and jacket, looking at himself in the mirror. Wow. It took me a while to understand that it was him and not a burglar!
"Oh God," I started laughing, Rob joined me after a second. "is that you-?"
"Yeah, that’s me. Discontented-?"
"Astonished," I said, eyeing him. I liked what I saw. Like hell. "In a positive way."
"I’m just wondering about changing our outfits. Spangles and flounces, I’m so tired with that," he mumbled and then we both started laughing again.
"Where did you get these clothes-?"
"Ah, there’s that one sex shop in London," he started, taking off his aviator sunglasses. My eyebrows went up. "I’ll take you there with Glenn one day."
"D’you have anything underneath?" I blurted out suddenly. And I was only supposed to think it. However, it sparked my curiosity so much that I didn’t manage to bite my tongue in time. Rob laughed melodically, it was the most beautiful sound in the whole world.
"Maybe you can come and check by yourself-?" he suggested half-seriously and half-jokingly but I treated it as a challenge, some kind of a provocation. I loved when he teased me, and he did it very often, he was the master of words. That’s why he wrote all of our lyrics.
I pushed him on the bed, then I took the handcuffs that he had at his belt and chained one of his hands to the bed frame. I did it just for fun, I had never thought he’d like it so much. He started breathing spasmodically, his pupils got bigger.
"Do it once again."
His voice was quiet, weak.
"What d’you want me to do-?" I asked. My knee between his legs. He was aroused, and I was too.
"Just continue."
I planted a hard kiss on his lips and then everything went smoothly.
I pulled his other hand to the mattress, bit his earlobe, he bit my lower lip. The blood mixed with saliva. Oh, God. Never before had I thought it could be so titillating?
I took off my belt and tied his other hand to the bed frame. I pulled up his shirt, started licking and kissing him, then I took off his tight-fitting trousers. He had nothing underneath.
My tongue was on his abdomen, on his hips, between his legs. Hot sighs come out of his lips.
I stopped. I stood up, took my jeans off and entered him, quite brutally so. He groaned. I started wondering if I hadn’t exaggerated; I looked at him, gasping, looking for an answer.
"Go on."
"You sure?"
"I said go on."
I started thrusting. I thrust, thrust and thrust endlessly. I pulled his hair, bit his arm. He moaned. Then he started screaming into my ear. The sounds that filled the room made me think of exorcisms. We were fucking as if he had just discovered what pleasure really was.
I didn’t stop. I didn’t stop until the madness came; as if I suddenly was in Heaven and Hell simultaneously. My muscles strained, thoughts dropped out of my mind. An exteriorisation.
I had never climaxed so intensively before.
That intercourse was one of the best I had ever had.
When we were already lying next to each other, sweaty and satisfied, Rob was rubbing his wrists and I was smoking a cigarette. Suddenly Rob turned his back to me as if he was offended. It made me astonished.
"Everythin’ alright?" I asked, touching his shoulder blade. When I got no answer but silence, I stubbed out the cig in the ashtray lying on the night table and held on to his waist, kissing his shoulder.
"I liked it," he said in the end.
"I liked it too. It’s okay, isn’t it?"
"I shouldn’t ‘ave."
"Why? We haven’t done anything wrong," I was confused. "I just bit you a little," I tried to laugh it off but it didn’t work. Rob was really terrified.
"It’s not normal."
"What’s not normal-?"
He was hesitating. I could hear that in his voice.
"That I liked it. I liked that you dominated me. That it hurt. That’s sick."
He was really terrified of himself. I didn’t want him to have any stupid pangs of conscience. However, he tended to belabour the point too much. We were similar in that and we both hated that feature in ourselves.
"Rob, listen…"
"Back then, in the clinic," he started. I was all ears; it was the story of his illness. We had never really talked about it before. "I had a lot of conversations with therapists. Every day. I had to tell them about everything. I opened up to one of them, Mrs Collins. I told her that my father used to beat me," he made a longer break there as if he wondered if he could tell me about everything. "and that then, afterwards I would go upstairs and touch myself because I felt aroused in some sick way."
I nearly stopped breathing when I heard that confession. I was lying motionlessly, afraid to move or say anything, so that he would feel interrupted and stop his monologue. I wanted to hear the whole truth.
"They cured me of this. The fantasies about being beaten stopped, those conversations… really helped me. I thought that it was already gone. Until now. Until you handcuffed me. I’m not angry with you," he rectified straightaway. "I’m angry with myself."
"I think…" I started slowly. "that you shouldn’t be angry at what you like. Everyone has different preferences. Some are weirder, some are less weird. Suppressing them can only make things worse, I think."
"That’s what they told me in the clinic," he sighed. "That’s why I told ‘em about everythin’. That’s why I’m tellin’ this also to you. I think… I think that you’ve got the right to know."
"I’m glad you told me that."
I held him tighter, happy that he trusted me enough to share such a secret with me. It brought us even closer to each other.
"You bit my lip to blood," I said after a while, trying to make the atmosphere more relaxed. Rob giggled and I did too. "Hey, it’s not so funny!"
"I got carried away," he mumbled, finally turning to face me.
"And so was I," I laughed. "So, in that case, I must be a madman too, according to your definition. But you know what? I feel okay with that," I shrugged.
Rob smiled. In his eyes, I saw relief and something like… an acknowledgement? I wasn’t sure but I knew he was happy that I’d understood him. That he didn’t have to keep it in himself any longer. It couldn’t be otherwise – after all, we were almost like Siamese twins.
He kissed me to set the seal on everything that had been told in that room.
Chapter 11: You've got another thing comin'
Chapter Text
We started earning some good money after our third album, Sin after sin. We started being recognisable, we’d also changed the label for the better one. Admittedly, we lost the copyrights to our first two albums but who cared? It was like having scored a bull’s eye, like some damn blessing.
I and Rob were twenty-six when we bought our first own flat. And a car. I couldn’t give it a miss. I was a great fan of motorisation and I’d always wanted to drive a nice set of wheels. And to buy one, that would be the best. We couldn’t afford Aston Martin yet but we bought a high-class Mercedes Benz.
Rob sniffed at it a little bit.
"What do we need such an expensive car for?" he asked. "We won’t be even able to drive it, Kenny. It’ll just be standin’ and rustin’ on the drive."
"But Rob," I tried to explain this to him. "the first car needs to be good! It’s just like the first sex or somethin’."
He laughed at that comparison.
He stopped moaning when we had a ride in our car – he liked it, it was comfortable inside. Then it was his turn to drive (all in all, it was our common car, we bought it from our common money), but Rob behaved awfully at the wheel, he was a speedster I’d never suspected him to be. His driving was chaotic, he cursed at the pedestrians, bikers and all the other drivers, overtaking at double solid lines. Then I couldn’t recognise him. Sometimes it was quite funny but other times I was afraid that one day he’d cause an accident and hurt himself or somebody else.
It was also the time when we headed on our first American tour.
For us, boys grown in the working class in Black Country, it was something completely new. The new world. And according to the name, we felt exactly like that – like in the new world.
Rob was amazed by people’s openness, friendly attitude and tolerance to otherness. While in England, we were used to pretending that we were just mates; when we went out together, there was no physical contact between us – no touching, no holding hands, let alone some more advanced forms of it.
While we were in New York, we decided to have a stroll towards the city centre and go up the famous Empire State Building. While we were on our way, we saw a gay couple holding hands and walking towards 5th avenue. No one scowled at them, everybody around treated it as something completely normal. Rob nearly burst out crying when he saw that; I had to calm him for a long time before he managed to shake out.
When we were already on the balcony of the Empire State Building and we were looking at the panorama of New York City, he was still very quiet and oneiric. I adored him. I preferred to look at him to marvel at one of the most wonderful cities in the world.
"Is everythin’ okay?" I asked. We weren’t used to displaying the feelings outside but I decided to rub his palm.
"I want that," he said quietly, mentioning the scene we saw a while ago. "With you."
I wanted that too, like nothing else in this world.
"We could move here," he suggested. It was his first suggestion about the removal, that topic was supposed to be raised many times later on. "Record here. Pay smaller taxes," he stopped and looked at me. "And be together."
His vision sounded beautiful but was too far away for then.
We as a band were driving all around the States and creating furore; punk rock began in Britain then, suddenly everybody started calling Richie Blackmore an old geezer and we were just doing our own stuff, playing for the kids. When I and Rob were on the West Coast, we felt so good; we were drinking wine at the beach, swimming in the cold Pacific Ocean in the night after the concerts, sometimes going for the afterparties with the rest of the band and making love.
One day in San Diego a telephone rang in the middle of the night. It was a roasting hot night so the air conditioner was working at full volume, we were sleeping peacefully, tired from the heat and concerts. Rob was lying next to me, naked, breathing regularly. He had a light sleep so the ringing of the phone woke up him first, only than me. I groaned when he switched on the lamp on the night table, I turned my face.
"Hello…? No, it’s Rob. Halford. Good morning…" he began, his voice tired and sleepy. "No. Here, it’s four in the morning, Mrs Downing."
When I heard my surname, I started waking up. What was going on…?
"Okay, here he is."
Rob whispered, handing me the receiver:
"It’s your mum callin’."
I sighed, irritated. What did she want? We hadn’t seen each other for years, I didn’t talk to anyone from the family, I had my own life and I felt happier without them.
"Yeah," I snapped into the receiver.
"Kenneth, where are you…?"
"Is it urgent?" I groaned. "I’d like to go to sleep. Can you call me in, like, three hours?"
"Ken, your father’s in a hospital."
I blinked, rubbed my eyes. Rob got up and went to drink some water, watching me.
"No wonder after havin’ hit the booze for years."
A long silence on the other side of the phone.
"It’s serious, Kenny. We need you."
"Don’t call me like that. Anyway, since when d’you need me…?" I asked ironically.
"Kenneth, please. When are you coming back?"
"I dunno. Soon. I’ll come when I go back. Now I’m hangin’ up," I said and quickly hang up, or rather banged down the receiver. I sat at the edge of the bed, rubbed my temples. What the fuck was that? I tried to concentrate but my brain was still sleepy, like marinated in treacle, it didn’t want to cooperate with me.
After a while I felt Rob’s hands on my shoulders, he kissed my neck, rubbed my skin with his stubble. His actions had good effects, I began composing myself.
"My father’s seriously ill," I said.
"D’you have to leave?"
"I’ll wait until the tour’s over," I mumbled. "That old toerag faced the music after years of boozing."
"I’ll go with you."
"You don’t have to. I don’t wanna enmesh you in that, it’s complete shit."
He massaged my neck, then turned off the light. His actions did me the world of good. I have no idea what I’d do without him.
"Let’s go back to bed for now."
Chapter 12: Beyond the realms of death
Chapter Text
We gave ourselves only one free week after the tour and then we were going into the studio to record our fourth album. After the success of the American tour, we were in high spirits and we didn’t want to wait long for the next tour.
Only when we got back and came round fair to middling after jet-lag, did I get into the car and drive from London to my parents in Black Country.
Rob wanted to go with me, he insisted but I finally talked him out of that idea. I promised him to come back as soon as possible, he decided though to start writing some lyrics, he had some ideas he wanted to bring into life.
I kissed him lingeringly for goodbye and got into our Mercedes. With every kilometre, I felt I had a catch in my voice, and my stomach shrunk to microscopic size, but when I imagined my parents’ and my siblings’ faces if they saw me with Rob (whom I’d introduce as my boyfriend), all dressed in leather, getting out of the exclusive car, I burst out laughing. I wanted to see such a scene one day. I even called Rob at one petrol station on the way and told him that. He liked that vision, as I expected, and he couldn’t stop laughing either.
When I was in the Birmingham area three hours later, I felt awkward. Factories, manufactories, foundries everywhere around and I was driving through in an elegant car to the place I came from but to which I didn’t want to come back. After a while, I thought that my car could be easily stolen there and maybe it was more sensible to go by train but on the other hand, I wanted to show my family that I could manage to afford it and prove to them that with my own persistence, strength and hard work you can whup the game, not only to debts and maybe a new washing machine.
But in the first place, I wanted to sting my father. Show him that kicking me out of the house was a huge mistake. It was my vengeance.
When I arrived at my old house, I saw my neighbour peeping from behind the fence who had arrived. Mr Nichols, a stupid old geezer who hit the jug along with my father and screamed blue murder at me if I played the guitar too loudly. He had a terribly sensitive hearing and he couldn’t sleep at night. We even made a competition once who’d stand it longer, I played Hendrix and he played his opera arias at full volume. The louder I played, the louder he was. Of course, it was me who won, he couldn’t stand such a high volume strength. As a kid, I felt such a huge satisfaction then.
"Good morning, Mr Nichols," I grinned at him. He get embarrassed that I caught him red-handed and quickly did a bunk back to his house.
I locked my car and walked over to the front door. I pressed the doorbell, the door opened after a while.
My mother. I hadn’t seen her for a long time, she changed for worse; she lost weight, she had dark bags under her eyes, more wrinkles on her face and more grey hair on her temples.
"Kenneth," she sighed. She didn’t really know how to greet me but in the end, she decided to hug me. It was quite awkward but at least I got it over. "It’s good to see you at last."
"You too, mum," I said. My words were a lie. It was a kind lie but, well, a lie is always a lie.
We went inside where nothing had changed at all. Everything looked the same as I remembered it – maybe it was only a bit quieter, no one shouted and it was peaceful. Rare moments of silence in my childhood.
"Adrian, girls, come here, Kenny’s arrived!" she called. She led me to the kitchen, dirty dishes piling up in the sink. I sat at the kitchen table, mum suggested making tea for me but I didn’t want it.
My siblings appeared after a while; Adrian hadn’t changed at all since that issue with the letters, Linda and Margaret were much taller, they both looked like real women. I noticed that my older sister was pregnant. Damn it, it flicked through my mind, she’s only seventeen.
"Woah, K.K., is that you?" she asked as if she didn’t believe her own eyes. I smiled, quite triumphantly. I changed since the last time they saw me, I was suntanned after touring in the US, my hair was brighter thanks to the Arizonian Sun, I put on weight a bit and got muscles, I looked healthy. And, well, I was happy and it surely was visible too.
"Yeah, it’s me, Linda," I said.
"Is that your ride standing outside the house?" Adrian asked hesitantly. I knew he’d ask it sooner or later. I couldn’t hold a smile full of complacency.
"Mine," I nodded. And Rob’s I wanted to add but I bit my tongue in the end. It wasn’t time yet to say it.
My brother clenched his jaw, sat on the opposite of me. I triumphed. But I didn’t say a word.
"Wow," Margaret mumbled. "it’s a new ride, how did you get it? Did you steal it?"
"I don’t need to steal to have such a car," I replied. "I earned. Thanks to my job."
A moment of awkward silence.
And that was when I understood it. That silence made me realise that I didn’t belong there; that I was really like a foreigner there, the homeless. Supposedly one of them, one of the Downings, but not the same anymore, almost in the middle class now, but not in it yet. Or rather: never in it because my working-class family background excluded me.
That discovery was frightening, it really hurt me. There wasn’t a place for me anymore, nor was it in the middle class. I was hung in a void, someone in between. Yes, that was a good term. In between.
"What’s wrong with father?" I asked in the end, clearing my throat. I wanted to run away from that place, come back to Rob, there where I belonged. By his side.
"He’s not well," Adrian mumbled. "He’s lying in the intensive care unit."
"He’s having dialysis every day," mother explained, standing at the worktop. "His only kidney isn’t working properly."
"He earned his spurs," I mumbled. I couldn’t sympathise with that old shitbag, I just wasn’t able to.
"How can you be so heartless," my mother hissed. "He’s your father."
I rubbed my temples. It started to get stuffy inside for me.
"I can visit him. But don’t expect anything more from me."
"He needs a transplant."
I looked at my mother questioningly, then at the rest of my siblings. Adrian nodded.
"Mum’s right."
I bristled.
"What d’you want me to do? What d’you expect? You want me to pay for his treatment, is that right-?" I hissed.
I knew they didn’t call me selflessly. I just knew it. They wanted something from me. And what else would they want if not money?
"I knew it," I sighed.
"It’s still your father – mother reminded me. I looked at her reproachfully.
"Unfortunately, yes, I am painfully aware of that," I mumbled and lit up the cigarette. Linda took it away from me and stubbed it in the ashtray.
"Don’t smoke, I’m pregnant."
"Fuckin’ hell," I hissed and dashed outside. I sat on the kitchen stairs, lit up the cigarette. The first one, the second one, the third one. I was chain-smoking only when I was extremely nervous, it didn’t happen very often.
After a while I heard steps, my mother sat down next to me. She treated herself with one cig.
"…how much?"
"One."
"What one? One thousand? One million?"
"One kidney. We’re wondering if… you could be a donor. It’s not about money, we’ve always managed to collect them. It’s about life. Your father’s life, Kenny."
I was shocked; a donor…? Me? I looked at my mother as if she lost her mind.
"What is it all about-?" I asked with a hoarse voice. "Why me? Why can’t Adrian become a donor? Linda? Margaret…? What’s wrong with ‘em?"
"Linda’s too young, Maggie’s pregnant. Adrian’s a diabetic, he can’t be a donor. It’s only you left. All hope in you."
I looked at her for a long time, expectantly.
"No way."
"Ken, think about it. You can live normally with one kidney. Your father needs it to survive."
"No. Never. Not for him."
"Kenneth…"
"How dare you … askin’ me about it after everything that’s happened – I groaned, inhaling a little bit too much, I started coughing. "It’s fuckin’ ridiculous!"
"It’s a matter of utmost importance, Kenneth."
"He’ll hit the booze anyway, that kidney will be for nothin’, his liver won’t stand it!"
"He’s on therapy, he won’t touch alcohol."
"I’ve already heard that. Several hundred times."
I threw the cigarette butt on the ground, trod on it. I rose slowly from the stairs and slowly headed towards my car.
"Kenneth, where are you going?! Stay!"
"I’m stayin’ in the hotel," I barked and quickly ran away from that place. I couldn’t stay there any longer. I reached my car, then I saw Mr Nichols again with the corner of my eye. I showed him the V sign with my palm inward, then got into the car and drove away from that awful place.
I didn’t stay in the hotel; I drove right back to London, to Rob and our flat, our sanctuary where I felt safe.
Everyone needs such a safe haven; something that my house in Birmingham had never been.
I bawled half the way; I stopped at the petrol station, bought a bottle of whiskey and drank a bit. I was trembling; God, I thought, I don’t want to come back there ever again.
I arrived at our block of flats, parked the car and quietly slid into our flat.
Suddenly, I was overwhelmed by serenity; I heard Rob singing and playing some chords on the piano. I closed the door, sat on the floor and just listened with my eyes closed. His voice and presence were enough for me, that was it, me in my haven and the love of my life.
He stopped playing after a second, he heard the door closing. His hearing was perfect. I heard his steps, then I felt his hands on me, around my neck. He was sitting there, in the cold hallway, and embracing me without a word, no questions. Fucking hell, if I could, I’d propose to him at that exact moment.
I cuddled up to him like a child, held him on his waist.
We spent some time on that cold floor, finally, Rob helped me to stand up and led me to our bedroom. I took off my clothes and lay down in bed. He still didn’t pose any questions, he knew I needed time and that soon I’d tell him everything. It had always been like that.
"Don’t go," I groaned. He fulfilled that wish of mine too, he lain next to me and stayed with me. I watched him playing with my hair, touching my face, eyes, lips, just like a blind man who was trying to remember every bit of my face. His fingers were long and slim, like the pianist. I loved the way he touched me, it had always helped me to relax.
I fell asleep in the end; it was evening already when I woke up, Rob was gone. I felt awful; a sudden pain pierced my head, probably because of nerves. I groaned and crawled to the bathroom to take a shower. Coldwater was refreshing, it did me the world of good. I put the towel around my hips and went downstairs where I found Rob sitting at the piano. He was frowning, thinking intensively over something. When he heard me, he smiled.
"Hi. How d’you feel?"
"Better, thanks," I said, trying to smile but I wasn’t very successful.
"You hungry…? I made lasagna but I burnt it a bit," he said, biting his lower lip. That boyish gesture had always been his trademark, I loved it. I finally managed to smile naturally.
"It can’t be this bad! I’m starving so I’ll eat anything."
When I came back from the kitchen, Rob asked me about the impression.
"Awful but I admire your endeavour," I smiled, sitting next to him at the piano.
"Thank you," he laughed. "I hope you won’t get sick afterwards."
"You writin’ somethin’?"
"Yeah, just listen," he mumbled and then played a piece of a melody. It sounded well, like a ballad. Back then we still had no idea that it would be titled Beyond the realms of death.
"I like it."
"Could you play it on the guitar-?"
I reached for my acoustic guitar that was lying on the sofa, sat down and played it. It sounded good. Rob nodded with admiration.
"We’ll polish it later on," he said and sat down next to me. He looked at me, posed a question without words. He was worried about me.
"My damn father’s sick," I sighed and put the guitar aside. "Kidneys. He doesn’t have one, an accident a long time ago, the second one is on its last legs. He’s havin’ dialysis, needs a transplant. Guess who’d be a donor."
He looked at me, frowned.
"No."
"Unfortunately, yes."
"Why?!" he bristled. "And your siblings?"
I quoted my mother’s words. Rob opened his mouth to say something but he lacked the right words. It didn’t happen often to him.
"Fuckin’ hell," was the only adequate comment at that moment. I nodded and went to the kitchen to grab the cigarettes, then came back to him. Rob took one cig, he didn’t usually do that, it was harmful to his voice but this time he made an exception; he looked sexy while smoking and he smoked like a woman – with a cigarette between his index and middle finger. I smoked, holding a cig with three fingers – the thumb, index and middle finger.
He was nervous, asked for another one, lit it up from mine.
"Fuck it," he mumbled, took the ashtray and stubbed the cigarette out. "Kenny. We have somethin’ to be finished."
At the first moment, I didn’t really understand what he was talking about.
"What’s that-?"
When he kissed me, everything became clear; it was a good idea, I ached for that too. One day was enough for me to start missing him.
He leaned backwards, pulling me with him and not breaking the kiss. He bit me, my lips started tingling, I held his hands over his head while his clothes were sliding down. I loved all the spontaneous things that happened between us during the intercourse, all the scratches, biting, hair pulling, onomatopoeic sounds.
Rob was a completely different person in bed; Personally, he was very kind and polite, while in some situations he let out something wild, that part of his personality that only I knew. I loved him like that but, of course, I accepted and love the entirety. Rob consisted of two parts and one of them was meant only for me.
This time it was quick but it was great anyway. Every time we’d become one, the thoughts would drop out of my head, I was somewhere else, complete exteriorization. In the moments like that, when we were together, we could forget about the whole world around us, lose ourselves in each other and then discover that somebody had been knocking, ringing and whatnot.
The fact that I and Rob matched each other so well, was something unbelievable. It gave me so much satisfaction and complacency.
When I came round after everything, I wanted some tenderness; Rob was lying under me, whole sweaty and warmed up like hell, breathing heavily and I let myself stroke and kiss him. He started humming something, closed his eyes.
Damn it, if I could, I’d spend the whole eternity with him.
"You had a rough finish," he mumbled with a smile, lighting up another cig.
"We had a longer break," I excused myself, still lying motionlessly, stroking him.
"Your father..." he began hesitantly. "have you seen ‘im?"
"No," I sighed. "I don’t know if I wanna. But I guess I ‘ave to."
"Remember: you don’t need to do anything you don’t wanna. You owe him nothin’."
"I know but, erm, you know, I don’t want ‘im to die because I didn’t help ‘im."
"He earned his spurs himself."
"Yeah, exactly."
"Whatever you decide, I’ll support you," he said. "I just don’t want you to feel pressured. Think through it."
"I’ll have to go back to West Bromwich," I mumbled. "It won’t make do without it."
"Then I’ll go with you," he said with a firm voice. "I won’t let you fall apart."
I wasn’t convinced.
"Rob, darling-"
"I’m goin’ with you," he repeated stubbornly. He was also the one who wore the trousers, I couldn’t forget about that. And he was stubborn, just like me. I yielded to him. I was just hoping I wouldn’t regret that decision.
Chapter 13: Diamonds and Rust
Chapter Text
We came back to Black Country a week later.
This time we were more sensible and got onto the train, and we had already a hotel booked in Birmingham. One of those I’d always wanted to go in but I could have never afforded it. Until now.
Rob was reading a book and I was drinking whiskey from a bottle after some sweet beverage. And that awful lump in my throat again. I was staring through the window and ached to jump out from the speeding train.
"Are you okay…?" Rob asked.
I nodded, didn’t want to worry him too much. I preferred to keep my emotional state for myself.
This is what my father had taught me.
We arrived on the spot after three hours. Rob took a taxi because I could barely stand on my own feet. After a couple of minutes we were in the city centre, Rob paid and took off our luggage from the boot. We walked into the hotel, there was a queue at the reception, some couple was asking about details in sightseeing.
Rob was impatient, he shifted from one foot to the other.
"I’ll be back in a minute," I whispered and went to the bathroom. I had to bawl, I was already fed up with everything. I didn’t want to be there, I wanted to escape as soon as possible. But that would be cowardice. And I wasn’t a coward.
When I washed my face and did myself up fair to the middling, I decided to leave the bathroom. Rob somehow managed to get the key and we could go to our room. Finally. The first thing I did after going into our apartment was to open the window. Wide. I needed some air. I lay on the bed and lit up the weed I had taken with myself.
"Call your family that we’re ‘ere," Rob said.
"Tomorrow," I mumbled. He didn’t insist more. He laid down next to me, took my joint and blew out a shotgun directly into my face.
"What’s goin’ on with you?"
"Take me away from ‘ere."
He sat on me astride without a word, we kissed, then he got away from me, took me by the hand and led me out to the balcony. We sat at the table, shared a joint. It was good, I calmed down a little bit.
"Kenny, you ‘ave to know that I’m ‘ere with you," he said suddenly with a serious tone of voice. He took my hand as if he wanted to give his words a higher value. I pulled him to me, he sat on my lap. "We’ll get through it together."
"Thank you," I choked out in the end. I had a lump in my throat, I was left speechless, his words were very touching. "I don’t know what else I can say."
"You don’t ‘ave to say anythin’ more."
We kissed, long and lingeringly. It was one of those kisses that heal all the wounds from the past, ease the pain of the memories.
I ached to tell him how happy I was that he was there with me, that he supported me that he was with me through thick and thin. That it mattered so much to me. That he mattered the whole world to me.
That I loved him.
After that one day when we were sixteen, I had never repeated those words ever again. Of course, it went without saying but it was already ten years since that moment. And sometimes I wanted to tell him that, just to make him sure.
But something always stopped me at the last moment. The words were like a fishbone stuck in my throat and I wasn’t able to say anything at all. A blockade. Once I got stuck, there was no possibility to move on.
And then I could only kick myself and ask, oh why the fuck hadn’t I told him that. After all, it’s only – or as much as – three words. It couldn’t be that difficult.
But for me it was impossible.
Talking about my feelings. It was something that had always overgrown me; there had never been words like I love you at my home, father had never praised me, mum, either. I was an emotional cripple. I loved Rob, I showed him my love in many ways, as many as I could think of, and even though those words couldn’t get through my throat.
He was better in that – while speaking and while writing. (That’s why he wrote all of our lyrics.) I loved reading them and hearing the voice of their owner. I had never told him I much I admire those moments when I’m sitting in my room and playing and he’s sneaking quietly into the room, cuddling up to my back and kissing that sensitive point on my neck, saying sweet things into my ear.
I had never told him how much I admire listening to him talking on the phone. I always earwig him then. Not to spy on him but just to hear his voice. I don’t care what he’s talking about, he can even witter on about prices of tomatoes in Spain and I’d still rhapsodise about it. I love the timbre and tessitura of his voice. My ears recognise Rob’s voice as the most wonderful sound in the whole world.
And his laughter. I love when he’s laughing, especially when it’s me who said something funny. When he’s giggling he’s a teenager again, he has long hair and thin legs. That’s how I remembered him best.
I had never told him how much I like when he’s wearing my T-shirts or shirts. Sometimes he’s wearing them at home or sleeping in them and then they’re imbued with his fragrance. The fragrance I savour and which I love, which I can’t describe with words.
In those moments I rhapsodise, sigh and stop being myself.
I was staring at him for a long time, as he was sitting on my lap with a joint between his lips. I was thinking about all these things, looking at him, instead of thinking about my dying father. Yes, I had always been a devil’s child.
"Kenny, what’s wrong? D’you want to tell me somethin’?"
He made things a bit easier now. He had always been quick-witted, he could read me like a book.
"Are you happy with me?"
"Of course, I am," he said. There was no hesitation in his words; Rob answered calmly and convincingly, he was sure about his answer. "You doubt it?"
"No, it’s not the point," I shook my head. "I’m just wonderin’… if you’re not in doubt."
"Certainly not," he frowned. "Why would I be-?"
"Cause…" I got stuck, stroked his back. "I can’t make you sure."
"K.K., you make me sure every day…"
"With words. It’s all about words."
His face cleared and he smiled. That view was more beautiful than a sunset over Malibu.
"I am the master of words here, darling," he whispered into my ear. "It’d be nice to hear somethin’ from you from time to time but I don’t insist. I know what was it like. You don’t need to excuse yourself."
"I don’t wanna excuse myself," I groaned. "I wanna tell this to you."
"You’re so fuckin’ stubborn," he laughed.
"Just like you," I grinned.
"You can write this to me. Maybe it’d be easier. Just for the beginnin’."
He took out some piece of paper from his pocket, opened it and smoothed it out. Some lyrics. He handed me his pencil and smiled encouragingly.
"I’m weak-minded, I feel like that…" I groaned, my hand hanging over the piece of paper.
"Just shut up."
My hand was shaking. But I wrote it down. I handed it to him, he smiled.
"I love you too."
When we kissed again, I felt relieved. As if I disburdened myself. It was a quantum jump, a landmark for me. I felt lighter, I felt better. What an incredible feeling.
"I’m proud of you," he added somewhere between the kisses. It was great to hear that, I needed those words of appreciation, acknowledgement. I hadn’t got it at home so I had to get it somewhere else. And Rob would give me what I needed most.
We went to bed late, about two o’clock. Suddenly I woke up, dazed and confused, I didn’t know what was going on. I looked at Rob lying next to me who was sleeping peacefully, our bodies still entangled in a tight hold. He was breathing slowly and rhythmically, he was dreaming. It wasn’t him who’d woken me up. So who?
It was about five o’clock, it was dawning and I lost control over the memories that started tormenting me. I embraced Rob with the hope that his presence would save me from them.
"K.K.," he mumbled. "what’s the time…?"
"It’s early. Go back to sleep."
I crawled out of bed, took the cigarettes and went out on the balcony. It was quite cold, morning smog was hanging over the city. I lit up the cigarette, slowly inhaled it. I got goose pimples but I didn’t care. I watched the sunrise. In that strange hour when whole Birmingham was still sleeping, when the first sunrays disperse the dream but the consciousness doesn’t come yet, I became overwhelmed by memories.
My father. The person who had hurt me both physically and mentally for years was dying somewhere in a hospital, all alone, suffering, his life depended on machines now.
The person who used to hit me with everything that came to his hands, who used to lock me in the cellar, belittling me, saying that I’d never ever achieved anything in life, that I was useless. The one who’d kicked me out of the house. I had never heard a good word from him to me. Never. Why would I help someone like him? I had to find a good reason to do so.
I blew smoke from my mouth.
Chapter 14: Eulogy
Chapter Text
I arrived at my old house the next day. Rob stayed in the hotel, however, he persisted to go with me but I managed to convince him that I’d call him before I go to the hospital where my father was. He turned his nose up at that idea, sometimes he was overprotective to me. As if he was afraid I’d do something stupid.
I called a taxi and drove to my mum’s. It was Adrian who opened the door.
"Will you come in?" he asked hesitantly. I leaned against the door jamb.
"No. Tell me which hospital he is in. I need to see him before I make the final decision."
"Sandwell General Hospital, mum visited him today after work and…"
"Okay, thanks," I mumbled and turned on my heel. I got back to the taxi, took Rob en route from the hotel and we headed directly to the hospital. We were driving in silence but after a while, I felt Rob’s delicate fingers on my hand. Only then did I realise that it was clenched in a fist.
"D’you want to tell me somethin’," he began hesitantly. "before you meet with ‘im?"
I shook my head; he knew everything. He knew and saw how my father abused me and my siblings. He accepted me with such a burden. Together with him, it was easier for me to carry it.
He was holding my hand throughout the whole way to the hospital. I squeezed his hand so tightly that my knuckles became whiter. I was a bundle of nerves, I was sure I’d explode if I only open my mouth. I was biting my lower lip until I tore the skin off and I tasted blood.
When we arrived at the hospital I thought that I’d drop dead in a second. Rob forced me to get out of the taxi. While we were standing at the entrance he looked at me as if he wanted to see deep inside my soul, he squeezed my hand.
"When it’s over, we’re leavin’ for long holidays."
"And the album-?" I choked out.
"Fuck it," he said with a firm voice. "you’re more important."
"If it becomes possible one day, we’ll get married."
His facial expression changed, softened. He looked at me tenderly and smiled.
"Is it a proposal?"
"Yeah. I guess so."
"You idiot," he shook his head. "You didn’t even ask!"
"Okay. Will we get married if there’s ever such an opportunity?"
Rob burst out laughing.
"Of course. What else would I say-?"
"You could always refuse!"
"Oh, you fool."
I wanted to kiss him badly but we were still in a public place and I didn’t dare do that. Rob pulled me inside the hospital. He asked about my father at the reception desk, the woman showed us the way. After a while, we ended up in the intensive care unit. A smell of death and suffering filled up the air. I hated hospitals. I felt that I shouldn’t have come there.
We slowly walked down the hall, time seemed to slow down.
Only when I saw my mother leaving one of the rooms, did I realise that I was too late.
I looked into her eyes filled up with tears, I stared at her but didn’t lower my eyes. I approached her to hold her, console her. But she pushed me away and made a step backwards.
"It’s all your fault, Kenneth."
Chapter 15: Epitaph
Chapter Text
When the first sun rays fell on my face, I didn’t roll over with a groan but smiled, enjoying the warmth. There was a cold breeze coming into the room, seagulls were shrieking, the wind moved the curtains.
When I turned around on the other side, I saw the most beautiful view in the world.
Rob was lying by my side, naked, leaning on his elbow and watching me.
"Good morning," he chirped, kissing me on the lips.
"Good morning."
"What would you like for breakfast?"
Only after a while did I realise that we were in Ibiza. Me and Rob, alone. It was our short holiday. Because of the funeral.
It was days since that happened. However, I didn’t already exist for my family, the black sheep, as usual. For them, it was me who’d killed my father off. I made the decision too slowly. I was disinherited of the family somehow. I knew that it was better not to show up in the Black Country area for the next years.
It was fucking sad for me but I could do nothing about it. My mother had always loved my father more than me or my siblings.
But I had my band, my fans, and, first and foremost, Rob. He was my greatest support. And I didn’t really need my family because he’d always been with me.
"I didn’t talk to him," I muttered when we were eating breakfast. "I mean, to my father. I didn’t make it on time. I wanted to tell ‘im everythin’. Right in the face. I wanted to hear that one fuckin’ I’m sorry. That would do."
Rob took my hand, squeezed it.
"I understand."
"I talked to ‘im in the chapel," I continued with sotto voce. "He couldn’t answer me. But I told ‘im everythin’ I’d ever wanted to tell ‘im in my whole life. Now… it’s better. It’ll be better."
He held me, kissing that sensitive point on my neck. His gesture only confirmed my words.
"Sing somethin’ for me."
Rob tilted his head, made a step backwards and poured himself some coffee.
"Please."
"Everythin’ for you," he smiled, rolled sleeves of the shirt. My shirt. "What would you like to hear?"
I mused over for a while.
"Stairway to heaven. Just like then, at that party when we were sixteen."
Rob giggled.
"D’you still remember that-?"
"‘Course I do. It was the day when you told me you loved me. One does not simply forget such a thing."
I blushed and that doesn’t happen often. Rob came closer, put his head on my shoulder and then started singing. It was quiet in the beginning but then his voice got the right power. I closed my eyes and became all ears. The most beautiful sounds in the whole world. I recalled all the memories from the times when we were just kids. I felt just like I did back then when I was staring at Rob standing on the table and singing the most famous Led Zeppelin’s ballad.
And just like then I realised that I loved him, the same happened to me now; I didn’t want anyone else, only him. This time it wasn’t a sudden awareness, a discovery. I just realised it one more time and smiled.
When Rob finished, I told him the same thing I did ten years ago:
"I love you."
Blaire (Guest) on Chapter 15 Tue 01 Aug 2023 05:04AM UTC
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