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Sunset
Him and Jason. It’s the only relationship he’s ever stuck at. The thought has occurred to him before, usually on lonely nights in foreign hotel rooms. Nights like tonight, when the snow is falling silently over an anonymous city. He isn’t sure what starts him off this particular night, maybe there’s something about the blue hues of twilight that stops him from switching on the lights, that draws him over to the window to watch the people down below. Some fans are still waiting out there; they saw Mark and Gary head out earlier and there’s no way they’re going home before the pair return. As he watches them, he begins to count all the endings in his head. All those friendships that he didn’t quite manage to sustain, all those girlfriends he’d never quite managed to marry, all those hands he’d never quite managed to hold onto. He couldn’t remember their fingerprints. But Jason’s fingerprints are all over him.
Of course it wasn’t just endings he thought of. He thought of Mark and of Gary. He even thought of Rob. And, with a touch of guilt, he realised he didn’t really stick at those relationships either. Not like he did with Jason anyway. He loved them all like brothers, of course he did. But brothers get fed up of each other, wind each other up, piss each other off. Howard had no shame in admitting that there were times when he would shut himself away from them all. He would pretend he hadn’t heard the phone, he’d lock the hotel room door, he’d put his headphones on and turn up the volume. Anything to get away. The thing he never told them was that Jason was the only one he never wanted to be angry with, even when he was. He never wanted to feel like shutting Jason out, never wanted to snap at him or get frustrated with him. He could cope with shutting the others out. But shutting Jason out didn’t come naturally to him. There was an instinct somewhere inside him that stopped him giving up on Jason.
He could still remember those hazy first impressions. Tinged by admiration, he had looked at Jason Orange and known he wanted to make an effort. Just like in any relationship, from the beginning he had wanted to lay the foundations for something good. He always tried at the beginning. Not that he had had to try hard with Jason. They had understood each other, somehow. Perhaps it was the easiness with which they connected that kept their relationship together when every other relationship Howard built fell apart. There was no one who saw him the way Jason did, and in return there was no one Howard stood by the way he stood by Jason.
Howard watches the foreign movement of a city he doesn’t belong to and he can’t help but think of all the times he and Jason have shared this same experience. This peculiar feeling of being lost. There was something about the ever-shifting lifestyle of a band that was as unsettling as it was exciting. Jason understood that in a way that Mark and Gary never did. They shared it together in secrecy. Though perhaps it was a badly kept secret. The others had to know, must have noticed the number of times Howard and Jason appeared at meals or meetings at exactly the same time. It would be so easy to guess at the fact that Jason had come to Howard’s door when he couldn’t sleep. It happened so often that Howard almost worried it was a waste of money getting Jason his own room. That quiet knock on his door was something he waited for, and depended on. ‘Didn’t wake you did I?’ Jason would ask with a tired voice. Howard would always brush that off, too grateful at Jason’s presence to care what time of night it was, or indeed what hour in the morning it was. They would lie on the bed together, sometimes facing each other across the pillows, other times top to tail. Howard didn’t care as long as he could feel Jason’s steady warmth next to him. They would lie like that and talk and talk and talk...until eventually they would stumble into sleep. The sort of carefree sleep that could only be brought about for each by the safety of the other’s closeness. It has been too long, Howard thinks sadly, since he has heard that quiet knock on his door.
It was, in many ways, so easy to stick at their relationship. Because, a lot of the time, it was Jason looking after him. Shouldering most of the responsibility for keeping the relationship going. If Howard got sick or hurt, Jason would keep an eye on him. He wouldn’t say that that was what he was doing. And he wouldn’t fuss. He’d just keep Howard in the corner of his eye. If a gentle hand was needed, Jason would offer it. They would hug all the time, they were as casual about their affection as they were easy in each other’s company. But when Jason was looking after him the hugs were fewer. That was how Howard would know Jason was worrying about him. He would replace the embraces with the quiet wall of his presence. He would lie next to Howard on the bed in silence. And they may exchange a few whispers. Often memories. Howard liked the company. Even on the days when he just wanted to be alone, for some reason, he would still be grateful of Jason’s presence.
Of course Howard looked after Jason too. He was quite fiercely protective of him. He’d never told anyone, but it made his blood boil when he heard people take the piss. He hates those critics that say Jason can’t sing, the ones who ignore his contribution to the songwriting, the presenters who behave like he doesn’t exist. He can almost live with it when they ignore him, but Jason? He can’t understand how anyone can ignore Jason. He often feels like yelling at them, telling them to just listen to him. Just hear him out. If you listen to Jason you can find out some amazing things, Howard wants to tell them all. He can offer a unique insight. It angers him when people aren’t interested in even trying to see the world the way Jason sees it. It’s a task Howard is often preoccupied with. He feels proud when he sees Jason sing a solo or take a moment to pretend he believes in himself for the sake of a crowd’s enjoyment. Stupidly proud. He wishes other people would notice those moments the way he does. Of course, sometimes, it isn’t the judgement of others he needs to protect Jason from. Jason is his own worst critic. He can over-analyse himself to the point where he doesn’t think he belongs in the band. He can chase his own thoughts around his head to the point where he doesn’t sleep for weeks. Howard is always there for him in those times.
Howard would never pretend that Jason is perfect. Jason is no angel. Perhaps that is what Howard loves most about him; he is so down-to-earth. There is a genuineness to everything he does. He is rough and worn around the edges, of course. But he is still beautiful. Those off-guard moments when he is alone with his guitar. That distant smile on his lips as he listens to a song. The way he always feels the need to dance along, sometimes when the music isn’t even playing; he likes to act daft, it hides his worry. God he’s complex. It’s something Howard already knows, but as he thinks it he realises how absurd it is. Not for Jason. It suits Jason to be complex, it’s part of who he is. But for Howard...he doesn’t do sticking at relationships. He doesn’t do puzzles, challenges, mountain climbs. He does straightforward, appreciates the simple. But then again, he supposes Jason is all those things too. For all his complexities he is very honest. And he makes things simple for Howard. He likes to try and smooth Howard’s path where he can. He likes to come to Howard’s room at sunset. He likes to lie with Howard and remember. It’s been too long since they remembered together.
Jason still doesn’t sleep much. Howard knows this because he asked him just the other day, on a rare, stolen moment in a car to some interview. ‘I’ve had a couple of rough nights...hotel rooms and foreign countries, you know?’ Jason had admitted. And Howard had nodded. He knew. He knew very well. And yet still that knock on the door didn’t come. He rather feared it was coming to that dangerous time of ending. A sunset on a friendship that he had successfully sustained for so long. A relationship he had sustained beyond all other relationships. He had never stuck at any others, why should he expect this one to stick to him? He was being punished for always giving up by finally being given up on by the person he had hoped would always be there. Of course, he has seen false sunsets before. The end of the band; Howard had been sure that whatever connection he and Jason had shared would be disbanded too. When Jason had gone travelling; Howard remembered being so angry that he had just left like that, with hardly a word, hardly a sound. Yet, somehow, Jason had always returned.
Robbie. That was what Howard was pinpointing it to now. The first time round, Jason and Robbie hadn’t had that much time for one another. Jason was a grafter. Not that Robbie wasn’t...Howard just put it down to the fact he was still a kid. Whatever it was that made the two of them up, it didn’t work. But this time? Well, they’re just so similar. That understanding Howard had always been so proud to have with Jason was slipping out of his grasp. Or at least, that’s what he feared was happening. Maybe Jason was lying awake with Robbie now. Maybe it was the two of them who were top to tail on the bed, remembering together. Exchanging neuroses. Helping one another through stage-fright, through loneliness. Howard tried to picture it happening. But he couldn’t. His heart was too protective of his and Jason’s nights alone.
For a little while Howard lost himself in the strange silence. This city wasn’t like London, this city seemed eager to sleep, seemed happy to help sustain his isolation. He wondered to himself what Jason was doing. Alone in his room. Just across the corridor. If he really wanted to stick at this relationship, shouldn’t he just cross that tiny divide? But a small part of him insists that Jason would be here if the sun wasn’t setting on them. Setting on this thing. This whatever-it-was. Was, not is. Howard sighs to himself. Sunsets are supposed to be beautiful things. All splendid and golden. Even if they do only serve to plunge you into darkness. He smiles sadly, wistfully. Remembering alone isn’t as fun, but remember he does. He remembers the start. Now that, that was splendid. And that was golden.
He was almost too lost in the memory to hear that knock on the door. But he’s stuck at this long enough to recognise that knock. He doesn’t believe his ears, because that would be too convenient. The thought of it being someone else on the other side of the door is almost enough for him to bottle out. He couldn’t handle that sort of disappointment. But Jason had rarely disappointed him. And he doesn’t tonight. ‘You weren’t sleeping were you?’ are his tentative words. It’s as if they had been doing this every night when Howard laughs and says no before turning and heading back inside his room. An open invitation that Jason accepts.
Howard can’t help but smile at his presence in his room. His movements are familiar and quiet. The two of them talk about all the usual things. Loneliness and tiredness and memories. It’s always memories with them. They can’t get through a conversation without a memory. They’ve shared a lot. Outside, night has fallen on top of the snow, but still neither Howard nor Jason turns on a light. They lie side by side in the pale half-light that comes in through the window. And they whisper as if the walls are as narrow as the distance between them in an attempt to protect their conversation from the outside world. Howard isn’t sure if they whisper to just protect their conversation or if they really they’re just whispering because it’s more intimate. He supposes that they whisper because they can; it is a privilege they have earned by sticking at this for so long. Howard doesn’t whisper like this with anyone else.
Jason is remembering. Howard knows because he learnt a long time ago what remembering looks like when it is in Jason’s eyes. Blue and bright and tangled. ‘Do you remember when we didn’t speak for two whole weeks?’ he asks at last. Howard smiles, nodding slowly. He remembers. He and Jason had had quite the showdown. As dramatic as it had felt at the time, neither one of them could be sure of exactly what it was that had started their silent battle. Gary and Mark had been as nervous of it as they had been confused by it and had done their best to keep things feeling vaguely normal by sharing Howard and Jason duties between them. Gary would take Howard one day whilst Mark distracted Jason, the next day they would switch around. They didn’t know that, once the sun had gone down, the two of them would end up side by side on Howard’s bed. They didn’t speak, they just lay together watching the shadows on the ceiling. Unable to give up on each other, even as they seethed with anger. ‘We still ended up like this every night’ Howard points out softly. Jason smiles, glancing over at him. ‘We always do’ he says. Howard enjoys the truth in those words.
It’s a while before they break the silence again. Neither one of them really needs to say too much. There’s a lot that doesn’t need to be said. That’s why a part of Howard feels silly for missing these nights the way he has. He can’t explain why but he enjoys it when they leave the words unsaid together. ‘I was starting to think you’d given up on me’ Howard admits, his voice shyly soft. Jason’s brow creases momentarily but he doesn’t say a word. For another brief moment Howard worries that this really is their sunset. At least it is a lot more splendid than when he was standing by the window alone. But then Jason’s expression softens and wordlessly he moves his hand. Slowly he reaches across the small space between them, taking Howard’s hand in his own, interlacing their fingers. Howard’s whole body relaxes into his touch.
Him and Jason. It’s the only relationship he’s ever stuck at. But he doesn’t think of that as too poor a reflection on him. Because this thing between them is more splendid and golden than any sunset. Jason squeezes his hand and it is more intimate than any kiss goodnight.
Of course it wasn’t just endings he thought of. He thought of Mark and of Gary. He even thought of Rob. And, with a touch of guilt, he realised he didn’t really stick at those relationships either. Not like he did with Jason anyway. He loved them all like brothers, of course he did. But brothers get fed up of each other, wind each other up, piss each other off. Howard had no shame in admitting that there were times when he would shut himself away from them all. He would pretend he hadn’t heard the phone, he’d lock the hotel room door, he’d put his headphones on and turn up the volume. Anything to get away. The thing he never told them was that Jason was the only one he never wanted to be angry with, even when he was. He never wanted to feel like shutting Jason out, never wanted to snap at him or get frustrated with him. He could cope with shutting the others out. But shutting Jason out didn’t come naturally to him. There was an instinct somewhere inside him that stopped him giving up on Jason.
He could still remember those hazy first impressions. Tinged by admiration, he had looked at Jason Orange and known he wanted to make an effort. Just like in any relationship, from the beginning he had wanted to lay the foundations for something good. He always tried at the beginning. Not that he had had to try hard with Jason. They had understood each other, somehow. Perhaps it was the easiness with which they connected that kept their relationship together when every other relationship Howard built fell apart. There was no one who saw him the way Jason did, and in return there was no one Howard stood by the way he stood by Jason.
Howard watches the foreign movement of a city he doesn’t belong to and he can’t help but think of all the times he and Jason have shared this same experience. This peculiar feeling of being lost. There was something about the ever-shifting lifestyle of a band that was as unsettling as it was exciting. Jason understood that in a way that Mark and Gary never did. They shared it together in secrecy. Though perhaps it was a badly kept secret. The others had to know, must have noticed the number of times Howard and Jason appeared at meals or meetings at exactly the same time. It would be so easy to guess at the fact that Jason had come to Howard’s door when he couldn’t sleep. It happened so often that Howard almost worried it was a waste of money getting Jason his own room. That quiet knock on his door was something he waited for, and depended on. ‘Didn’t wake you did I?’ Jason would ask with a tired voice. Howard would always brush that off, too grateful at Jason’s presence to care what time of night it was, or indeed what hour in the morning it was. They would lie on the bed together, sometimes facing each other across the pillows, other times top to tail. Howard didn’t care as long as he could feel Jason’s steady warmth next to him. They would lie like that and talk and talk and talk...until eventually they would stumble into sleep. The sort of carefree sleep that could only be brought about for each by the safety of the other’s closeness. It has been too long, Howard thinks sadly, since he has heard that quiet knock on his door.
It was, in many ways, so easy to stick at their relationship. Because, a lot of the time, it was Jason looking after him. Shouldering most of the responsibility for keeping the relationship going. If Howard got sick or hurt, Jason would keep an eye on him. He wouldn’t say that that was what he was doing. And he wouldn’t fuss. He’d just keep Howard in the corner of his eye. If a gentle hand was needed, Jason would offer it. They would hug all the time, they were as casual about their affection as they were easy in each other’s company. But when Jason was looking after him the hugs were fewer. That was how Howard would know Jason was worrying about him. He would replace the embraces with the quiet wall of his presence. He would lie next to Howard on the bed in silence. And they may exchange a few whispers. Often memories. Howard liked the company. Even on the days when he just wanted to be alone, for some reason, he would still be grateful of Jason’s presence.
Of course Howard looked after Jason too. He was quite fiercely protective of him. He’d never told anyone, but it made his blood boil when he heard people take the piss. He hates those critics that say Jason can’t sing, the ones who ignore his contribution to the songwriting, the presenters who behave like he doesn’t exist. He can almost live with it when they ignore him, but Jason? He can’t understand how anyone can ignore Jason. He often feels like yelling at them, telling them to just listen to him. Just hear him out. If you listen to Jason you can find out some amazing things, Howard wants to tell them all. He can offer a unique insight. It angers him when people aren’t interested in even trying to see the world the way Jason sees it. It’s a task Howard is often preoccupied with. He feels proud when he sees Jason sing a solo or take a moment to pretend he believes in himself for the sake of a crowd’s enjoyment. Stupidly proud. He wishes other people would notice those moments the way he does. Of course, sometimes, it isn’t the judgement of others he needs to protect Jason from. Jason is his own worst critic. He can over-analyse himself to the point where he doesn’t think he belongs in the band. He can chase his own thoughts around his head to the point where he doesn’t sleep for weeks. Howard is always there for him in those times.
Howard would never pretend that Jason is perfect. Jason is no angel. Perhaps that is what Howard loves most about him; he is so down-to-earth. There is a genuineness to everything he does. He is rough and worn around the edges, of course. But he is still beautiful. Those off-guard moments when he is alone with his guitar. That distant smile on his lips as he listens to a song. The way he always feels the need to dance along, sometimes when the music isn’t even playing; he likes to act daft, it hides his worry. God he’s complex. It’s something Howard already knows, but as he thinks it he realises how absurd it is. Not for Jason. It suits Jason to be complex, it’s part of who he is. But for Howard...he doesn’t do sticking at relationships. He doesn’t do puzzles, challenges, mountain climbs. He does straightforward, appreciates the simple. But then again, he supposes Jason is all those things too. For all his complexities he is very honest. And he makes things simple for Howard. He likes to try and smooth Howard’s path where he can. He likes to come to Howard’s room at sunset. He likes to lie with Howard and remember. It’s been too long since they remembered together.
Jason still doesn’t sleep much. Howard knows this because he asked him just the other day, on a rare, stolen moment in a car to some interview. ‘I’ve had a couple of rough nights...hotel rooms and foreign countries, you know?’ Jason had admitted. And Howard had nodded. He knew. He knew very well. And yet still that knock on the door didn’t come. He rather feared it was coming to that dangerous time of ending. A sunset on a friendship that he had successfully sustained for so long. A relationship he had sustained beyond all other relationships. He had never stuck at any others, why should he expect this one to stick to him? He was being punished for always giving up by finally being given up on by the person he had hoped would always be there. Of course, he has seen false sunsets before. The end of the band; Howard had been sure that whatever connection he and Jason had shared would be disbanded too. When Jason had gone travelling; Howard remembered being so angry that he had just left like that, with hardly a word, hardly a sound. Yet, somehow, Jason had always returned.
Robbie. That was what Howard was pinpointing it to now. The first time round, Jason and Robbie hadn’t had that much time for one another. Jason was a grafter. Not that Robbie wasn’t...Howard just put it down to the fact he was still a kid. Whatever it was that made the two of them up, it didn’t work. But this time? Well, they’re just so similar. That understanding Howard had always been so proud to have with Jason was slipping out of his grasp. Or at least, that’s what he feared was happening. Maybe Jason was lying awake with Robbie now. Maybe it was the two of them who were top to tail on the bed, remembering together. Exchanging neuroses. Helping one another through stage-fright, through loneliness. Howard tried to picture it happening. But he couldn’t. His heart was too protective of his and Jason’s nights alone.
For a little while Howard lost himself in the strange silence. This city wasn’t like London, this city seemed eager to sleep, seemed happy to help sustain his isolation. He wondered to himself what Jason was doing. Alone in his room. Just across the corridor. If he really wanted to stick at this relationship, shouldn’t he just cross that tiny divide? But a small part of him insists that Jason would be here if the sun wasn’t setting on them. Setting on this thing. This whatever-it-was. Was, not is. Howard sighs to himself. Sunsets are supposed to be beautiful things. All splendid and golden. Even if they do only serve to plunge you into darkness. He smiles sadly, wistfully. Remembering alone isn’t as fun, but remember he does. He remembers the start. Now that, that was splendid. And that was golden.
He was almost too lost in the memory to hear that knock on the door. But he’s stuck at this long enough to recognise that knock. He doesn’t believe his ears, because that would be too convenient. The thought of it being someone else on the other side of the door is almost enough for him to bottle out. He couldn’t handle that sort of disappointment. But Jason had rarely disappointed him. And he doesn’t tonight. ‘You weren’t sleeping were you?’ are his tentative words. It’s as if they had been doing this every night when Howard laughs and says no before turning and heading back inside his room. An open invitation that Jason accepts.
Howard can’t help but smile at his presence in his room. His movements are familiar and quiet. The two of them talk about all the usual things. Loneliness and tiredness and memories. It’s always memories with them. They can’t get through a conversation without a memory. They’ve shared a lot. Outside, night has fallen on top of the snow, but still neither Howard nor Jason turns on a light. They lie side by side in the pale half-light that comes in through the window. And they whisper as if the walls are as narrow as the distance between them in an attempt to protect their conversation from the outside world. Howard isn’t sure if they whisper to just protect their conversation or if they really they’re just whispering because it’s more intimate. He supposes that they whisper because they can; it is a privilege they have earned by sticking at this for so long. Howard doesn’t whisper like this with anyone else.
Jason is remembering. Howard knows because he learnt a long time ago what remembering looks like when it is in Jason’s eyes. Blue and bright and tangled. ‘Do you remember when we didn’t speak for two whole weeks?’ he asks at last. Howard smiles, nodding slowly. He remembers. He and Jason had had quite the showdown. As dramatic as it had felt at the time, neither one of them could be sure of exactly what it was that had started their silent battle. Gary and Mark had been as nervous of it as they had been confused by it and had done their best to keep things feeling vaguely normal by sharing Howard and Jason duties between them. Gary would take Howard one day whilst Mark distracted Jason, the next day they would switch around. They didn’t know that, once the sun had gone down, the two of them would end up side by side on Howard’s bed. They didn’t speak, they just lay together watching the shadows on the ceiling. Unable to give up on each other, even as they seethed with anger. ‘We still ended up like this every night’ Howard points out softly. Jason smiles, glancing over at him. ‘We always do’ he says. Howard enjoys the truth in those words.
It’s a while before they break the silence again. Neither one of them really needs to say too much. There’s a lot that doesn’t need to be said. That’s why a part of Howard feels silly for missing these nights the way he has. He can’t explain why but he enjoys it when they leave the words unsaid together. ‘I was starting to think you’d given up on me’ Howard admits, his voice shyly soft. Jason’s brow creases momentarily but he doesn’t say a word. For another brief moment Howard worries that this really is their sunset. At least it is a lot more splendid than when he was standing by the window alone. But then Jason’s expression softens and wordlessly he moves his hand. Slowly he reaches across the small space between them, taking Howard’s hand in his own, interlacing their fingers. Howard’s whole body relaxes into his touch.
Him and Jason. It’s the only relationship he’s ever stuck at. But he doesn’t think of that as too poor a reflection on him. Because this thing between them is more splendid and golden than any sunset. Jason squeezes his hand and it is more intimate than any kiss goodnight.