On the Road: A Tour Bus Romance

Rule number one of being in a band: don't fuck your bandmates.

It's right up there with don't date fans, don't do interviews drunk, and for god's sake don't read the comment section. These are the rules that keep a band alive, that stop the music from being destroyed by the messy human drama that lurks beneath every collaboration.

I've followed this rule for five years. Five years of rehearsals and recording sessions and tour buses and hotel rooms. Five years of watching Theo Martinez move across stages like he was born there, fingers dancing over guitar strings, body swaying in ways that made me forget the words to songs I wrote.

My name is Jake Brennan. Lead singer of The Aftermath. And I've been in love with my guitarist since the day we met, and I've never said a goddamn word about it.

Tonight is show forty-two of a sixty-date tour. We're somewhere in the Midwest, a sold-out theater that holds two thousand people, and the crowd is screaming so loud I can barely hear myself think. Theo is three feet to my left, bent over his guitar, absolutely lost in the music. When he looks up and catches my eye, grinning like we're getting away with something, I almost miss my cue.

This is getting harder. Every show, every night, every time I wake up on the bus and he's asleep in the bunk across from mine, it's getting harder to pretend.

The show ends at eleven. By midnight, we're back at the hotel, and by one, everyone else has gone to their rooms. But Theo knocks on my door at 1:15, two beers in hand, still buzzing from the performance.

"You were amazing tonight. That last song, you hit that note and I thought the roof was going to come off."

"You were pretty amazing yourself."

He grins, settles onto the end of my bed like he belongs there. We've done this a hundred times, post-show debrief, picking apart what worked and what didn't, planning adjustments for the next night. It's the part of touring I love most, these quiet moments when the adrenaline is still flowing but the crowd is gone.

It's also the part that's killing me.

"You seemed distracted up there. A few times I looked over and you were staring at nothing."

"I was in the zone."

"Bullshit." He takes a drink of his beer. "Something's been off with you for weeks. Since before we left, actually. You want to tell me what's going on?"

"Nothing's going on."

"Jake." His voice softens. "We've been doing this for five years. I know you better than anyone. Something's eating at you, and pretending otherwise is affecting the shows."

He's right. I know he's right. The tension I'm carrying is bleeding into my performance, making me careful when I should be wild, distant when I should be connecting. The fans probably haven't noticed, but Theo has. Theo notices everything about me.

"I can't tell you."

"Why not?"

"Because it'll ruin everything."

"Jake." He sets down his beer, moves closer. "There's nothing you could tell me that would ruin this. The band, our friendship, it's survived label drama and shit tours and that time you got food poisoning in Cleveland and threw up on stage. It can survive whatever this is."

"This is different."

"How?"

Tell him. Five years of silence. Five years of wanting. Just say the words and deal with the consequences.

"Because I'm in love with you."