After Theo’s emotional retelling of just who “He who shall not be named” did to him and Lysander’s startling revelation about his own traumatic past, now Theo is learning what has changed about their relationship after such a soul-searing connection through pain and heartache, and what it means now that he’s found someone who can understand at least some of that pain. Will Lysander treat him differently now? Or has learning more about each other only helped them find true happiness in one another’s company?
Read on to find out!~
~~
[First Page of Chapter Preview]
The both of them looked like quite a sight as the last of the turbulent emotions cleared out of their systems—Theo moreso than Lysander, his makeup streaked all over his face while Lysander only looked exhausted—so the singer offered to take a shower with Theo, who readily accepted.
Just as Theo had expected, the shower in the master bathroom of the penthouse apartment was far larger than the one in the modest ‘secret hideout’. Floor-to-ceiling glass walls enclosed two sides of it with enough space between them for two or three people to fit, maybe even a small sports team. The upper showerhead itself was built into the wall like some kind of fancy waterfall, but warm water was warm water, and he was immensely grateful for the opportunity to wash off. Theo stood rapturously under the cascade, feeling the ugliness drip off of him, leaving him feeling clean and vulnerable in its wake.
Again Lysander had asked if he wanted to shower alone, and after a brief hesitation, Theo had shaken his head then pulled Lysander into the glass enclosure with him, giving his lover only a moment to take off his clothes first while Theo had hastily doffed his own. As soon as the water was raining down over both of them, Lysander was kissing him again, lightly pressing him against the wall, and it was exquisite.
“Theo,” Lysander groaned, breath as hot as the water as he said Theo’s name over and over between kisses. Theo said nothing in return, only soaked in the attention. His arms were thrown around his lover’s neck, face tilted up like a flower seeking out the rays of the sun. Suddenly, or maybe gradually, Theo found himself being picked up by the waist. His legs automatically wrapped around Lysander’s hips as the water continued to pour over them, washing away his sins.
The singer’s moans grew more heated still, pressing their lower torsos together until Theo reached between them with one arm, struggling to stretch his fingers wide enough to hold their cocks parallel in his grasp. It turned out that tremendous emotional release made him incredibly horny—or maybe it was just Lysander that made him feel that way, surrounding him with tenderness and compassion beating within the heart of an incredibly attractive man.
Theo felt his spine stiffening, arching, though it was difficult to pump fast enough to bring them to climax with both cocks in hand. He didn’t want to leave the shower, though—didn’t want to break this perfect moment of kinship, of healing each other’s scars with each sweet kiss.
~~
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You can view the “as intended” or “sanitized” versions of this chapter at the respective patreon accounts linked to below:
The creative part of the collaborative song between Theo and Lysander is complete, and now comes the scariest part yet–meeting more of Lysander’s “Hollywood” friends to actually release the song online and (hopefully) start drumming up sales. Only problem is, Theo has never sold music professionally before, and he’s not sure he has the courage to actually go through with this, not with the Impostor Demon waiting in the shadows, ready to strike. Will he survive his first-ever meeting with a music world professional? Or is he going to fall to pieces thanks to his own lack of self esteem about his creative talents?
Read on to find out!~
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[First Page of Chapter Preview]
“Rich,” as Lysander had called it, was far beyond the goals Theo had set for himself, long before the singer had ever entered his life. He’d just be happy to survive.
Still, Theo tried to maintain the mien of what he supposed someone who did want to be rich might look like—or at least someone who was determined to become successful. Which he was, mostly. As long as he didn’t have to do so in front of people.
“You’ll do fine, babe,” Lysander whispered to him a week after they’d had their pier-side restaurant date, leaning over on the white cowhide couch in the penthouse living room to kiss his forehead. Then the singer headed to the kitchen to pour himself a shot of whiskey; apparently Lysander wasn’t feeling entirely calm about the meeting, either.
Finally, there was a knock at the door. Lysander crossed the room quickly to open it, breaking into an enormous grin as soon as he saw the person on the other side. “Oren,” he said brightly in greeting. “Come on in.”
“Hey, bro!” ‘Oren’ slid into the apartment without hesitation, then immediately threw his arms around Lysander, squeezing him tight. The stranger looked like the quintessential Hollywood promoter—shades, red beanie, artfully messy brown hair sticking out from beneath, red plaid shirt over skinny black jeans, and designer loafers that probably cost more than Theo’s entire wardrobe. Still, he seemed genuinely glad to see Lysander, and vice versa, following Lysander over to sit on the chairs in the main room of the house.
“This is the new blood, then?” Oren said as he approached, whipping his sunglasses off to reveal startlingly blue eyes as his grin widened and he offered Theo his hand. “Oren Spielberg, glad to meet you. Yes, like the director,” he added with a wink, but it wasn’t a quarter as charming as Lysander’s were. “No relation, though. I hear you’re pretty good at making EDM?”
Theo had shot to his feet as soon as Lysander had opened the door to let in the stranger, and it was all Theo could do not to glance desperately towards his boyfriend now, hesitant to let Oren know how close they’d become—though Lysander had said it was fine if he wanted to tell Oren that they were dating. Lysander might not care if word about their relationship got out, but Theo was definitely not ready for it.
“Um, I g-guess so,” Theo mumbled uncertainly, then, swallowing, did his best to sound more confident. “I mean, y-yeah. I love it.”
Oren turned briefly to smirk at Lysander before turning back to Theo, still holding onto his hand. “Great, great. Loving what you do is important. Very important. Anyway, let’s hear this ‘secret project’ you two’ve been working on, you little weasels. I already listened to it in the email attachment, but I want to hear it again on Lysander’s sexy sound system. Bastard certainly spent enough money on that setup.”
Lysander shrugged, his smile undimmed. “I like high quality sound,” he offered in his defense. “No idea why.”
~~
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Now that Theo and Lysander have started dating–not just that, but had such an emotionally turbulent first night together that neither of them will ever be the same–here comes the hard part: telling Theo’s friends about the relationship. More complicated than that, as wonderful as his new boyfriend is, Lys is an incredibly busy world-famous pop star. How can anyone have a normal relationship with someone like that, where even finding the time to see them requires scheduling like making a doctor’s appointment? Not to mention the media frenzy that’s sure to happen as soon as the public gets wind of their relationship? Shy and awkward as Theo is…can he really hand that, no matter how wonderful Lysander himself is?
~~
[First Page of Chapter Preview]
By the end of the second week that he’d been dating the pop star, Theo decided it was time to go back to DJing at his own albeit much, much smaller musical gigs.
At the very beginning of his EDM-making career (if he could even call it a career yet), Theo had been pretty clueless about how to find gigs. He’d search through sketchy online job websites, most of his replies getting ignored, or his email added to spam lists, or offers for actual money turning out to be ones for “exposure.”
Now with over five years of experience under his many-holed belt, he knew that word-of-mouth was his best bet. That was part of why he’d established himself a small network of fellow DJs; so they could contact each other if a gig they couldn’t make, or weren’t the right fit for, popped up.
His friends hadn’t called him with tip-offs for a short while since he’d told them his mixer was broken, and he realized belatedly that he hadn’t let them know he’d since gotten it fixed. Grimacing slightly—he’d honestly been so deep into starting his relationship with Lysander that, aside from his birthday party, he’d barely given any of his other friends half a thought—Theo decided to call Juniper, making sure he waited until early evening in the hopes of catching her between sleep and her work shift at a 24-hour sex shop, or possibly at her own DJ gig if she had one that night.
“Theo!” his friend half-screamed the second the phone call connected, loud enough that Theo winced and held his phone further away from his ear for a bit.
“H-hey, Juniper,” Theo replied once his ears had stopped ringing. “S-so, I was wondering if y-you—”
“—How in the hell did you become friends with Lysander-fucking-Delion??” she immediately interrupted him, as he’d figured she would.
Sighing deeply, he prepared to deliver the story he’d concocted ahead of time to give to any of his friends who asked a similar question. “He came to perform at H-Halo, we ended up chatting, and, I dunno, we c-clicked.” That was putting it mildly—they’d more or less slammed into each other metaphorically, as if the universe had decided it was time for them to be together—not that he believed in cosmic destiny crap like that.
Juniper seemed unconvinced that that was the whole story, either, releasing a long “hmmmm” into her receiver before asking, “So that’s it? You ‘clicked’?”
Theo hesitated; he still knew how it would complicate things for Lysander if word spread back to his father—his boss—about the collaboration. But he determined after a moment of deliberation that Juniper, at least, could be trusted. “And…he came to my DJ show a few days after we m-met, and asked me to c-collaborate. Secretly,” he added in a hushed voice, as if someone might be listening in even though he was sitting alone on his living room couch. “S-so don’t tell anyone, okay?”
He had a second’s warning to pull the phone away from his ear again before she released another long, loud squeal of delight. “A secret collaboration?! Whaaaaaaat?” He almost couldn’t understand her through all her excited giggling. “Collaboration on what? Gasp! Are you gonna be in his next album??”
“N-no,” Theo replied, feeling somewhat worn out by her enthusiasm even from the other side of the phone. “I t-told you, secret, right? He, uh…h-he asked to be in one of my songs, a-actually.”
Juniper went silent for so long that he almost wondered if the call had dropped, until finally she breathed, “Theo, that’s crazy. He has to be crazy into you if he went through all that trouble.”
~~
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Just posted Chapter 18 up on Patreon so subscribers can read it for $5/month/weekly chapters (or $3 for individual chapters)! You can also read the first page of each chapter for free on Patreon or here.
You can view the “as intended” or “sanitized” versions of this chapter at the respective patreon accounts linked to below:
Following their magical first night together after Theo’s exciting birthday party with Lysander and his friends, now Theo has to face how their relationship had shifted–if they’re really dating now, or if that had been a one-time thing. In the meantime, Theo is struggling to identify his own feelings…is this just infatuation with the pop star, or maybe something more eternal?
Read and find out!
~~
[First Page of Chapter Preview]
Sunlight filtered through the bedroom’s lone window by the time Theo woke up, illuminating the covers, the bureau, Theo’s own body with radiant rays of light. He stretched slowly, languorously, unaccustomed to the softness—and the size—of the bed beneath him.
Remembering how they’d spent the night together brought fresh ripples of happiness all over again. The pleasure of having Lysander inside of him, of the singer’s hot mouth sucking his cock, arms surrounding him, fingers gently scrubbing soap into his hair…he’d openly sobbed against the man’s chest, and Lysander had responded with unbelievable kindness, comforting him as he’d never been comforted before. The people who adored the pop star just from watching him perform on stage had no idea what an extraordinary person he really was.
Speaking of the singer…Theo looked to either side of the bedroom and realized Lysander wasn’t in sight. Frowning slightly, he pushed further out of bed—winced, soreness throbbing in his lower section, but holy shit had it been worth it—and slowly lowered his feet to the carpet, steeling himself briefly before he attempted to stand.
His legs felt like jelly and Theo almost laughed, astonished at how thoroughly the blonde had wrecked him.
After bringing each other to climax that first time, they’d rested a bit, then did it all over again, and then a third time—Theo wondered how he’d found the energy for it all, but somehow Lysander seemed to intuit all the right parts of him to stimulate, all the right whispered words against his neck to have him primed within minutes to go at it again.
Finally sated—at least for that night—Theo had dozed a little, then stirred when Lysander had asked if he wanted to borrow a toothbrush and/or take another shower. Too exhausted to stand for long, Theo had declined the shower, but agreed to the toothbrush, not wanting to wake up with kimchi-breath. Somehow, he’d made it to the bathroom, sharing the sink with Lysander as the pop star brushed his own teeth, then Theo had limped back to the bed while Lysander took his own shower, curled up into the blankets, and fallen fast asleep.
And now here he was, almost dizzy with happiness, even if disbelief still fogged his thoughts.
~~
Subscribe for $5 a month to receive a new chapter every Friday, including this one…
Just posted Chapter 16 up on Patreon so subscribers can read it for $5/month/weekly chapters (or $3 for individual chapters)! You can also read the first page of each chapter for free on Patreon or here.
You can view the “as intended” or “sanitized” versions of this chapter at the respective patreon accounts linked to below:
Now that Theo has found the courage to establish that he and Lysander are, officially, dating, Theo finds himself eager to move on to the next logical step of their newfound relationship. But how long will that step take, and will Lysander initiate it, or will Theo have to once again scrape together all his courage to get the ball(s) rolling himself?
Also, how will Theo’s friends react to the world-famous celebrity’s sudden appearance at Theo’s karaoke birthday party?
Read on to find out!~
~~
[First Page of Chapter Preview]
Theo somehow managed to leave Lysander’s apartment without ravishing him—without even kissing him, truth be told, though Theo knew with certainty that if he’d initiated a kiss, Lysander would have responded enthusiastically. For whatever reason, the pop star was letting him set the boundaries of their relationship; he never pressured Theo into anything before Theo himself said if he wanted it or not, aside from the one presumptuous act of putting his arm around Theo’s shoulders outside of the museum. But even then the half-embrace had been tentative, ready to pull away if Theo showed any resistance at all.
The problem with that scenario was how unbearably nerve-wracking it was. Theo had never been adept at taking the lead in relationships, and that was even in dating normal people, not a world-famous pop star.
For the most part, their communication continued in the same fashion as before—plenty of teasing and flirting on Lysander’s part, but otherwise no overt references to the fact that they were apparently dating now.
Lysander was busy with pop star-stuff for the rest of the weekend and most of the following week, so Theo focused on his own life, going to work when he had to, messing with creating new songs in his downtime or watching movies with Siti when they were both home in the evenings. She’d been spending a lot less time with Brad since the argument he’d overheard, and he couldn’t help wondering if maybe she was on the verge of breaking up with him. Maybe she’d already been souring on the relationship and Brad’s new obsession with trying to use her to gain proximity to the pop star was hammering the final nail into the coffin.
Still, Theo figured she’d tell him if she wanted him to know, so he said nothing about the matter, hoping she knew by then that he was happy to let her vent however much she wanted. Siti was a lot less shy about asking after his own relationship status, though—she’d walked in on Theo and Lysander doing very relationshippy things too many times already not to start drawing her own conclusions, which were likely not all that far off base.
“So…you are officially dating?” she asked him straight-out on Tuesday, two days before his birthday, as she reclined on the stained living room couch next to him while a rom-com that was highly rated and therefore painfully cliché played quietly in the background.
“I-I guess so,” Theo answered shyly, squirming in his seat. Even if Lysander had confirmed as much, it still didn’t feel real—he kept waiting for someone to pinch him and wake him up.
“That’s awesome!” Siti gushed, and he looked at her with a vaguely surprised expression at her uncharacteristic enthusiasm. “No, I mean it, dude. I know I’ve only really hung out with him twice, but Lys seems great. There might actually be a decent person under all that glam.”
“H-he is decent,” Theo defended his sort-of boyfriend, though Siti hadn’t actually insulted him. “H-he’s very sweet, and kind, and…”
“You don’t have to sell his virtues to me, kid,” Siti said wryly, sticking her tongue out at him and grinning. “It’s your relationship. As long as he doesn’t turn out to be a shitbag, then we’re all cool.” As she said it, she pulled her sleeve back and held up one fist in a dramatic fighting pose. “If he breaks your heart, though, I’ll break his fucking neck.”
“Woah,” Theo breathed, laughing faintly. “L-Let’s try him out first before resorting to v-violence.” Then, feeling suddenly like he needed more of a human connection, he sank down into the couch and rested his cheek on her shoulder. “He…w-we haven’t even k-kissed yet, though.”
“No?” Her voice rumbled softly against his ear, though it was nothing like Lysander’s growly purr when he was being intimate. “Why’s that?”
“I-I don’t know,” Theo murmured, though he knew why. “He seems like he’s…w-waiting.”
“Waiting.” She sounded thoughtful about that. “That’s good, I guess. Better than trying to push you into doing things you don’t want to do.”
That was exactly it. Only…what if Theo wanted him to push?
“Anyway…you invited him to your birthday party, right?” she verified, prompting him to lift his head at the mischievous note in her voice, seeing it reflected in her eyes. “Maybe you can kiss him then.”
“I-In front of everybody?” Theo gasped, scandalized at the thought. It was bad enough that he’d be bringing his famous maybe-boyfriend around other normal people who might gossip about him later—being that overtly attached to him in front of them was a step too far.
“Maybe not,” she replied laughingly. “But…it’s a chance to get closer to him, at least. See more of the ‘Lys’ he shows when he’s comfortable around friends.”
Theo hoped that would be the case, though it would be the first time Lysander was meeting some of his other friends, and he wasn’t sure what mask Lysander might put on for the occasion. Theo had been exceedingly careful in who he invited—after a lot of deliberation, he invited Juniper, and later another DJ friend Ryan and his girlfriend Ophelia.
There were a few others he’d asked, but they’d all politely declined at the short notice. Privately he’d been relieved to have only scraped together a small group, just enough people to stay within his comfort level—and fewer agents of gossip who might escalate the difficulties of the relationship by spreading news of it before he was ready to handle the media attention that would likely follow.
After coordinating a bit with the other guests, Theo compared their availability to his own schedule, then finally submitted a choice of three dates to Lysander to choose from. They decided to go with Saturday after all; it was a better day for Lysander and Siti, and while it was too short notice for Theo to put in a vacation request, he at least was able to switch his Sunday shift at the warehouse to the second half of the day so he’d have some time to sleep in.
Returning home from his morning shift that Saturday, Theo popped a few melatonin to make himself sleep for at least a few hours so he wouldn’t pass out at his own birthday party. Although the idea of cuddling up to Lysander with his head on the singer’s shoulder, falling asleep surrounded by his warmth, was a pleasant image…until he thought of how the others might react.
Siti had taken care of calling the karaoke place ahead of time, making sure one of the larger rooms would be available to rent for the evening. It would be pricey, but Siti had insisted it was worth it—25 was an important birthday she’d declared; it would officially mark him as a quarter of a century old. And anyway, she and the other guests would pitch in to cover the rental and food fees, so Theo shouldn’t worry about any of that.
Of course, Lysander would have probably happily paid for all of it…but he resisted letting Lysander know about Siti’s plan in that regard, not wanting to set a precedent of having his boyfriend pay for everything just because Lysander was rich.
Rising from his nap groggy but excited, Theo decided to be creative in his dressing for the occasion. After poking around in his closet for a while, he finally settled on black skintight pleather pants, shin-high platform boots, silvery V-necked dress shirt, and his favorite knee-length black leather coat, all of it covered in an embarrassment of superfluous chains and buckles. He wore his blingiest body piercings as well, anything that sparkled, though his collection of attire was no doubt far less sparkly than half of what Lysander owned. For makeup, he went heavy with the contouring and dark eyeshadow, but decided to leave his lips bare except for a tiny bit of gloss—just in case Siti’s joking prediction might come true.
“Damn, you went all out,” Siti said as Theo joined her in the living room where she’d been awaiting him, since they were going to be riding the bus to the karaoke booth together. It was an hour and a half away, but Theo hadn’t dared ask Lysander for a ride, knowing how the pop star had had to move his schedule around to come at all. Plus he liked the idea of imagining how his friends would react when the pop star came into the room, no doubt shocking them to their toes. After the tense situation with Siti’s first proper introduction to Lysander, he had warned them that a friend would be joining them later but hadn’t said who—only that he was a recently made friend who was ‘pretty famous’. They’d peppered him with questions after that, but he’d impishly told them to wait and see.
Okay, maybe he was a little thrilled about having a famous boyfriend to show off at parties.
~~
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To help new readers find out if they’re interested in Fractured Heart: the Tale of the Pop Star and the Pauper, I’ve made chapters 1 – 8 available to read totally for FREE. If you want to read past that chapter, you can do so on Patreon at the following links:
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Fractured Heart: Chapter One
“Jim needs you to switch the right amp with the spare. Says it was fucking up big time at the Housenfuhrer set last night.”
Pausing with his hands on the handle of the plastic broom—with ends that were badly frayed because the owner of the concert venue was too cheap to replace anything until it was broken down into a useless husk—Theo grumbled to himself. The amps were rather heavy—while he liked to think of himself as a competently strong guy, it was still a struggle to move them by himself. Of course, another able-bodied assistant to help would have been lovely, but just as with his refusal to replace the broom, Jim refused to hire a sufficient number of people to handle the workload. The cheap-ass just expected the handful of employees he did have to work the jobs of five people simultaneously instead.
When he’d first gotten a job at Halo a year and a half prior, Theo had been so delighted he’d almost cried. Here was his ‘in’ to the professional music production world—working in such close proximity to the performers meant he was bound to find an opportunity to cross paths with and hopefully impress some music exec or agent or someone else with bargaining power in the industry who could get him a deal. Then he could finally escape being trapped into gigs DJing other people’s music in grimy underground nightclubs with floors that were perpetually sticky with spilled drinks, and find the time to work on producing his own original music that might actually see widespread release someday.
Even though he’d only been producing EDM for just under five years and still had a lot to learn, he liked to think that his current skill level was more than passing fair in quality. His roommate and best friend Siti seemed to think so—she wasn’t even particularly into EDM, and yet even she said his music was “bitchin’.” Maybe it was hubris to think he might be ready for something bigger, but…
“No one wants to listen to your crap ‘music.’ Stop wasting so much time on it and just be a model. Your pretty face is all you’re really good for, you know.” The echoing memory of that voice had him grimacing, shaking off the briefest of shudders as he placed the broom against a wall in the entrance hall then made his way towards the stairs leading up to the large stage that dominated the back half of the main room.
Halo certainly wasn’t the most high-tech concert venue available on that side of the outskirts beyond Los Angeles proper, nor was it the largest. Yet it was a popular venue for many musical artists to test out new material, or cultivate a more ‘intimate’ audience experience—sometimes even very large acts. Casting his gaze towards the empty floor as he stepped onto the stage still gave Theo’s stomach a lurch as he imagined what it must feel like to perform at a venue that was larger—to stand in front of thousands of people all screaming and staring at you, pouring your heart out into your music right there for the public to judge. No, thank you, sir.
One of his too-few coworkers Keenan was already on the stage fighting to move the broken amp—Theo passed him a nod of acknowledgement, but the middle-aged man only gave him a flat stare in return. Keenan wasn’t the most pleasant of individuals, Theo had discovered soon after getting hired—too many years working a shit job, he supposed. If Theo stayed on at Halo for another ten years or so, he’d probably end up with the same sort of easily-irritated disposition.
“Jim wants this switched,” Keenan muttered as Theo approached the other side of the amp, and Theo nodded rather than let him know he’d already been informed as much. Between the two of them, they struggled to corner-walk the amp to the far side of the stage, tucked away into the wings behind a curtain, then did the same backwards with the spare amp kept in the corner. Eventually, they’d have to use the forklift to take the bad one out and hopefully put it somewhere the repair techs could come out to look it over, but not today—the headliner for that night was due to show up at the venue in another two hours. They didn’t have time.
As he struggled to move the amps, a sheaf of coal-black hair worked its way free from under the clip he’d slid in before his shift, falling annoyingly into the path of his vision. Occasionally it stabbed into his eyes worse than the eyeliner that had leaked into them when he’d been too hasty applying it that morning. Growling softly, Theo did a head toss to flip it behind his ear, but it slid right back into the way. After a second attempt with no more success, Theo gave up with a sigh. Should’ve worn a bandana, though he’d wanted to show off the new cut to Siti in the box office without messing it up with bandana-hair first.
“Shouldn’t have hair like that, man,” Keenan commented disapprovingly as they both paused to lean against the replacement amp and wipe sweat from their brows. “Too much upkeep.” Keenan’s own hair was wiry and cropped extremely short—bet he didn’t need any prep at all.
Keenan might have been right, and once upon a time Theo would have agreed with him. His mother certainly would—she hated the style of personal expression he’d picked up since art college, and he had to forgo the eyeliner, the red eyeshadow, and certainly the black lipstick any time he visited back home or he’d hear no end of the lectures.
But since he’d slowly immersed himself in the rave community, he’d discovered a kind of welcoming atmosphere that was difficult to find elsewhere—certainly in the transaction-based “you scratch my back, I’ll scratch yours” world of Los Angeles. The tagline often associated with the rave scene was PLUR: “Peace, Love, Unity, Respect,” and for the most part it seemed like the majority of participants honored that creed.
“Y-Yeah, well,” Theo replied with an empty laugh, taking in one more deep breath before he set to work switching all the cables over to the replacement amp. Eager to change the subject before Keenan reminded him any more of his mother’s complaints, he asked, “Who’s the h-headliner tonight, a-again?”
Keenan’s eyes narrowed—like a lot of people, he wasn’t fond of the 0.5 seconds longer it sometimes took Theo to get through a sentence with his stutter, but for once the curmudgeonly older man withheld his tongue on that topic. “Kylie Simone is opening. Lysander Delion is the main set.”
Oh—right. Tonight was a pop music concert. Theo couldn’t help grimacing at that. He hated all forms of pop, found it grating and soulless, manufactured by committee to be the most “earwormy” to generate sales rather than use the creative medium of music to convey anything with human intention. Ironically, it sounded more artificial to him than his most preferred genre EDM—the kind of music that actually used nothing but machines to produce.
And Lysander Delion was a step below even the awfulness of pop music in general—he was a nepobaby. His father owned Everest Entertainment, one of if not the largest record label companies in the Americas. That pretty much guaranteed Lysander a signing as long as he could at the minimum ululate into a microphone without sounding like a dying cat. And even if he did, they could always fix that with autotune.
Of course, Theo couldn’t think of any specific songs he could confidently attribute to the pop star—it wasn’t his kind of music, so he didn’t go out of his way to listen to it on purpose. But surely he’d heard it on the overhead speakers in the mall or maybe from someone’s cell phone as they played it at max volume on the city bus, and he was sure he’d hated it then without even knowing whose music it was.
After getting the cords straightened out, Theo returned to the front hallway to resume sweeping the last of the garbage left over from the night before—Uly had been on shift, not Theo, and Uly always did a shitty job whenever he was tasked with cleaning. Or organizing flyers at the box office. Or dusting off the equipment between uses. Or…pretty much any task he was given, really. Theo was sure Uly must be the son of the venue owner or something or surely he would have been fired by now, but Theo hadn’t cared enough about the surly asshole to look into it.
An hour and a half of other mundane cleaning and set up tasks ticked by with agonizing slowness, until one of his coworkers came into the backstage area to let them know that one of the performers was pulling into the garage. Most of the others made their way towards the back entrance at the mention of that, the women especially—given how Lysander Delion was rumored to be physically gorgeous as well as a (if you liked that sort of music) good singer, of course he had a legion of fangirls hiding in wait anywhere one might go in the US—or beyond, if the crowd sizes even in places like India and Singapore were taken into account. Theo’s own grandmother had probably heard of him all the way down in her tiny village of Seonsan in South Korea, and she didn’t even own a TV.
Rolling his eyes at the breathless excitement from some of his coworkers, Theo stayed at his task—getting the freshly-laid cords taped down so no one tripped on them and sued the venue for a bazillion dollars—and a moment later, the women returned wearing obvious looks of disappointment. Ah, just the opening act, then.
Another half hour later, and the concert hall employees were starting to shift nervous looks back and forth. Some of the headliner’s sound tech team had shown up earlier in the day to get their own equipment set up, but not the headliner or his background band themselves, meaning they couldn’t yet do final soundchecks to ensure everything was set up perfectly before go-time. Though two more hours remained before doors would open to concert attendees, sometimes unforeseen complications during set-up could push the start time and music venue fans were not known for their patience over unexpected delays. Especially the younger, predominantly female fans like those who were likely to turn out for a heartthrob pop idol like Lysander Delion.
Theo’s already low opinion of this celebrity he had never breathed the same air as fell even lower as the window before lateness drew ever shorter. Apparently Lysander had reached the level of fame where he felt like other people’s time wasn’t as valuable as his—if he hadn’t already been that presumptuous since childhood, seeing how he’d been born with a proverbial silver spoon in his mouth.
At last, almost 40 minutes past his scheduled time for arrival, a large black stretch-SUV that could only belong to someone who thought he was the current Prince of Pop arrived at the back of the hall. Theo was fuming by then—even if he wasn’t the only employee there, Jim was known to arbitrarily attribute blame anything that went wrong on whoever happened to be in his line of sight at the time, and Theo had experienced the brunt of his misguided ire plenty of occasions already.
God, he really needed to quit this job. A year and a half in and the closest he’d gotten to talking to a music exec was getting sent on an errand to buy a very specific brand of cherry cola when the headliner that night had been having a hissy fit and no one else was available to answer her irrational demands.
“He’s here!”
Three seconds after Becca, the brunette light tech with the half-shaved head and dark red eyeliner he meant to ask the brand name of one of these days, squealed this announcement, two other women in the building shrieked their excitement and the group of them descended towards the garage like a pack of cougars on the hunt. Theo debated going with them just to catch a look at whoever this prick was so he knew what he was dealing with, but he figured he’d see the jerk soon enough whenever His Highness finally showed up on stage for sound check.
“Oh…guess Lysander’s here, then?” said a female voice from over his shoulder as Theo checked that the vending machines were stocked with enough change and Theo turned to see his friend facing him with a wry smirk. Unlike the other women, Siti was as unimpressed by celebrities and influencers as he was—it only took so many interactions with some spoiled brat screaming that the people working with them were “getting in the way of their lighting” before one lost any element of feeling starstruck. Anyone with half a brain did, anyway.
“S-Sounds like,” Theo grumbled in agreement, and just as he said it, breathless, giggling voices echoed across the empty dance floor as a gaggle of women and several men followed the figure who floated onto the stage in a shimmer of silvery rhinestones and a ridiculously pink feather boa. Some of the crowd were from the venue, others must have come with the singer—agents and make-up artists and a personal assistant or three. Probably bodyguards as well, famous as Lysander was.
Shifting the dozen or so feet from the off-center snack hall into the main area to get a clear look towards the stage, Theo stopped in the shadows and narrowed his eyes as he stared observationally across the wide space at that evening’s headliner; the one who had deigned not to show up until little more than an hour for setup remained.
Lysander Delion was the sort of person every head turned to whenever he entered a room, whether you liked the guy or not.
Sporting a surfer’s tan and the kind of golden wavy curls that darker-haired individuals would spend hundreds of dollars every other month bleaching and dyeing their hair to imitate, the singer had the nerve to even have an aesthetically pleasing bone structure—masculine but not too masculine, wide shoulders and an athletic build to match his impressive height. His teeth were probably the most eye-catching part of him, beyond his flamboyant clothing—pearly white and perfectly straight; they were probably flippers, rather than the teeth he’d grown in as a preteen. No way that brilliant grin he was flashing at everyone was 100% natural.
A soft sigh next to him had Theo jerking his gaze sideways, furrowing his brows in dismay at the fact that even Siti seemed to be feeling awestruck by the sheer magnificent stage presence of the celebrity, though she quickly shook her head and the glazed look dropped away from her eyes. “Guess he’s kinda hot,” she admitted begrudgingly. “Bet he’s a total asshole, though.”
“D-Definitely,” Theo agreed. That type always was.
Enough space lay between himself and the pop star that Theo couldn’t make out the words being exchanged between Lysander and his entourage, but he supposed most of it was nonsense catering and flattery and whatever else the prick needed to hear as much as he needed oxygen to breathe. Theo ignored them, returning to refilling the coins in the vending machine then sweeping the entranceway one more time. Siti had already moved to her customary spot behind the half-window in the box office, sighing as she logged into the computers, no doubt preparing herself mentally to deal with the incoming horde of fangirls.
Scuffling feet from the closer edge of the main area had him looking upward, meeting Jim’s perpetual scowl with a soft scowl of his own. “What are you doing?” Theo’s boss hissed, apparently having forgotten that he was the one who had tasked Theo with sweeping the hallway again. “Get on stage. You’re needed for sound check.”
Biting his tongue, Theo only nodded haltingly, stopping long enough to tuck the broom behind the box office doorway then dusting his hands off on his black slacks as he walked along the outside of the main area towards the curtains that separated it from backstage. The slacks were polyester and he absolutely hated them, but they were part of workplace uniform regulations—as if anyone would notice or care if he wore cotton rather than polyester. Jim was just a control freak like that, using his limited power as the concert venue head manager to enact petty restrictions on his vastly underpaid minions.
The voices grew louder as he passed through the heavy black curtain, and he could identify the singer’s voice immediately without having heard it before—only a celebrity used to entertaining the public would have that sort of practiced dulcet cadence as if he were filming an online vlog about his daily workout routine instead of talking to another human being.
“….Don’t really need any of that,” Lysander was saying, his radiant smile focused on the woman with a clipboard standing before him with a look of intense concentration on her face. The blonde had green eyes—unusual. Probably contacts. “Just some water, and maybe, I don’t know…Skittles?”
“Skittles, got it,” the woman said, head bobbing as she wrote down notes as if he were passing on commandments from God. “Any particular color?”
Lysander’s brows drew together at that and he loosed a faintly confused laugh. “No, anything is fine. Or a Jolly Rancher, if that’s easier. Just something sugary and non-dairy.” He winked—actually winked—as he added, “Something to keep my energy up between songs, you know?”
Acid twisted in Theo’s stomach as he tried not to glare at the flashy celebrity. God was he fake.
The entourage was gathered close enough to the edge of the stage that a few members within it were partially blocking the short stairwell Theo needed to ascend to reach the sound equipment. He stopped at the bottom of the stairwell with one hand on the railing and heaved a sigh, debating whether he should just wait for them to eventually clear or make his way forcibly through the crowd. While still deciding which tactic to enact, Theo blinked as the pop star’s gaze suddenly swept towards him, and for a split second his heart skipped a beat.
Lysander was staring at him—something indefinable shined in the emerald depths of the singer’s slightly widened eyes, and for mere seconds the singer’s polite smile froze in place. Then suddenly he burst into an ear-splitting grin that didn’t seem like it should be humanly possible, but somehow the blonde pulled it off. Theo felt his throat work in a dry swallow and almost took a step backwards, ill-prepared for the force of that luminous smile.
“James,” Lysander said without taking his eyes off Theo, and one of the men who was lingering near the top of the stairwell jerked his head up attentively. “Could you step to your right? I think you’re blocking our friend there from climbing the stairs.”
At once, about seven pairs of eyes locked on Theo in unison, and his throat worked even harder as he really did take a step back. “Uh—n-no, i-it’s fine,” he mumbled automatically, shrinking another step backwards until his hand fell away from the railing to clench lightly at his side. “I can—I c-can just climb up the s-side—”
“No, no, don’t be silly. We can move.” With a sweeping gesture of his arm as if he were parting the Red Sea, Lysander signaled his entourage to dutifully step to the side, clearing the way. Only the pop star remained in his path, still beaming down at him from the top of the stairs while Theo briefly tried to recall what his own name was. “What can I help you with, friend?”
He’d said it again—‘friend’. Did he mean Theo? Theo’s brow puckered at that, unsettled by the unexpected familiarity from a total stranger, and a famous celebrity to boot. He supposed he ought to be offended at the presumptuousness of it, but mostly he just felt confused. Wasn’t that a Southern thing? But as far as he knew, Lysander was born and raised in Los Angeles, unlike the poor, ignorant midwestern boy that Theo was…
Catching the six other sets of eyes still staring at him within his peripheral, Theo recalled what his task was with another blink. “Oh…I-I’m just doing s-sound check,” he mumbled, almost too quiet for his voice to carry even that short distance, and belatedly he forced his legs to move, climbing the stairs one awkward step at a time.
Although he loved making music, and could endure DJing on stage as long as the room was dark and not too crowded, Theo hated to be the center of attention—hated to feel like he was being judged, evaluated, as if he was standing on display. It made working at the concert venue especially ironic—he interacted with the sorts of people who thrived on attention every day, and it only reinforced his distaste for it. Lysander, too, must have thrived on it, or he wouldn’t have gotten as famous doing large-scale stage performances as he had.
As Theo neared the top of the stage, Lysander finally stepped back to make space for him, though the singer’s gaze still hadn’t left Theo’s face. For his part, Theo dropped his stare to the ground as fast as humanly possible, using the shadows cast by the house lights to guide him past the celebrity and other members of his entourage until Theo had passed by the lot of them and reached the sound equipment at the back of the stage. Even once he’d moved beyond the group, Theo thought he could feel the singer’s stare boring into the back of his neck…though he could have been imagining it.
What the hell was the pop star’s problem with him? It hadn’t been an unpleasant smile, but still—surely Lysander didn’t often smile that intensely at other people or there’d be a lot more reports of unconscious swooning from audience members in the tabloids.
A short time after he’d crossed the stage, the sounds of conversation started up behind him again, and Theo loosed a soft breath of relief. He began testing cords and dials, making sure everything had power and nothing was cranked up too high or placed in a way that would cause feedback. Though Lysander was billed as a solo artist, he still had a back-up band, their equipment already set up along the back row of the stage by sound techs that had arrived ahead of the singer himself hours prior. Resting in the center, halfway towards the front, was the electric guitar the singer had selected for tonight’s show—pastel pink and white, covered in shiny silver star stickers.
At the start of his “career”—who could really say when a nepobaby in entertainment truly debuted—Lysander Delion had presented himself in a more traditionally male pop star aesthetic. However it seemed that in more recent years he’d really been pushing the envelope on what was considered “masculine,” and the predominantly queer or queer-curious zoomers in his fanbase ate it up.
After he’d seen what the singer looked like, distant memories of tabloid and magazine covers that he’d glanced at while waiting in line at the grocery store floated to mind—whenever it came to awards shows, for instance, no one seemed to know if Lysander would show up in a conservative matte blue tuxedo or flaming red sequined leggings and vest. Theo spent plenty of time on his own appearance before heading to raves or anywhere he would be expected to “dress up,” and even he thought Lysander’s fashion choices were rather over-the-top.
However, that wasn’t his primary concern with the ambiguously-gendered guitar at the moment. His only focus was on making sure the damn thing was set up to sound correctly when the show started so Jim couldn’t blame him if something went wrong. And thanks to His Highness showing up so late, they had less than an hour to make sure that it was.
A flicker of irritation at the reason they were so behind passed through Theo’s expression as he lifted his gaze to the blonde, now standing with his back towards Theo as he continued to address his entourage. Now Jim was there as well, eyeing the celebrity with a grin that could only be defined as hungry—he was going to make a killing off ticket sales tonight.
“Um—” Theo hesitated, loathe to attract eyeballs back onto him but needing to get the singer’s attention so they could get the sound check done on time. “Lys—er, M-Mr. Delion, c-can you come here please? We need to ch-check sound.”
“Oh!” Pausing in his conversation immediately, Lysander whirled around and faced Theo with an apologetic smile. “Sound check. I forgot. Sure.” The blonde strode towards him, and Theo couldn’t stop himself from automatically taking a step back as the singer swept down to fetch the guitar from where it lay on the stage. As he rose, Lysander flashed a look through long lashes towards Theo, his smile turning ever so slightly sultry as he said, “By the way, ‘Mr. Delion’ is my father. Please feel free to just call me Lysander.”
Something annoyingly similar to butterflies fluttered to life in Theo’s stomach as he nodded stiffly, then turned his gaze determinedly towards the guitar, doing his best to ignore the ring-studded fingers that rested about the neck. A moment later, those fingers strummed softly, and a beautiful—but slightly too quiet—sound of strings vibrated across the open space. “How’s this?” the pop star asked, his voice as melodic as the musical instrument.
Butterflies or no, Theo went into work-mode, putting his distractions aside so he could get the job done. He wouldn’t be able to determine how the instruments sounded to the audience until he was standing in the mixer booth at the center of the room, but he could already tell it was too quiet. He needed to check the other equipment sound levels as well—steeling himself with a quick intake of breath before he dared to look directly at the radiant celebrity, he asked in a perfunctory voice that sounded a lot calmer than he felt, “C-can your bandmates also take up p-positions? And…” Swallowing a grimace, he used the politest yet still urgent voice he could summon to add, “P-please hurry. Doors are supposed to open in t-twenty minutes.”
The singer’s eyes flew wide at that, and for just a second he almost looked like a real person, not something printed out at the “pop idol” factory. “Shit!” he breathed, then with another apologetic smile he called to his bandmates, prompting them to make their way to their stations.
Apparently the urgency in Theo’s tone worked, because the singer and other performers stayed on task as Theo and the other techs worked with them to get all the levels up to snuff. They still went another twenty minutes over doors’ opening time, but that was at least within the parameters of a fairly average delay—just in the period that he’d worked at Halo, Theo could count the number of sold-out shows that actually started on time on one hand.
As the hour of impact drew close and Theo felt relatively assured that all was correctly prepared, he dropped down from the mixer booth in the center of the dance floor to make his way to the bathroom for a lighting quick piss-and-spritz. There were two bathrooms in the small venue, one near the box office for attendees and one backstage for the performers, but the one backstage was closer to the sound booth so he started heading that way, keeping his steps light as the lateness of the hour pressed against his nerves.
Theo had barely made it two strides past the curtain before he felt a presence settle in next to him, and he almost did a double-take upon turning to find that the headliner of the sold-out show was keeping pace with him, once more regarding him with a beaming smile. Theo had managed to quell the butterflies while he had a specific job to do, but now as they power-walked temporarily alone together through the backstage hallways, the butterflies had returned, apparently now double in number.
Maybe he’d had too many energy drinks that day, and he was just getting acid reflux. Yes, that was definitely it—no way was he falling for the charismatic celebrity’s charms like every other idiot.
“What’s your name, anyway?” Lysander asked while Theo tried unsuccessfully to walk too fast for the blonde to keep pace without Theo bursting into an outright run.
Theo’s brow furrowed at the question, once more confused by the disproportionate amount of attention the celebrity was paying towards him. Yet it seemed a simple enough thing to answer so he mumbled, “Theo,” right before placing his hand on the door leading to the backstage men’s bathroom and shoving it open.
To his dismay, Lysander continued to follow in his footsteps even into the bathroom, though he’d only smiled without saying anything after Theo had offered his name. Maybe the celebrity had to take a leak also—it was the most logical explanation, but as Theo cast a glance towards the three urinals lined up together with only a thin partition of wall between them that barely stretched from collarbone to groin, he couldn’t help but feel a little off-put at the idea of standing only a couple feet away from the celebrity with his dick out. So he made his way to the lone stall instead, immediately locking it but then only sitting on the seat with his pants still pulled up, struggling to control his bizarrely rapid heartbeat.
Shit. Maybe he was having a heart attack. Maybe all those energy drinks he’d been pounding almost nightly—the only way he’d been able to survive working at the warehouse from four AM to noon, try his best to take a catnap, then work at the concert hall from six PM to two in the morning—were finally catching up to him.
Thank God the singer didn’t try to talk to him more even while he was in the bathroom stall—after a few seconds longer, he heard the sound of the urinal being used, then the sink, then the soft click of the outside door closing. Only then did he feel safe enough doing his own business, though he couldn’t help jumping at every sound as if the celebrity were about to burst into the room again at any moment. If Lysander did—then Theo might scream. Or call the cops, famous celebrity or not.
His nerves were still jittery even as he rushed his way back to the mixer’s booth, though blessedly Lysander was getting into position on the stage not lying in wait to accost Theo as soon as he exited the bathroom. Theo couldn’t help flickering his eyes stage-ward as he crossed through the dance floor towards the booth, but the singer had his attentions on his bandmates so Theo managed to make it into position with no further awkward conversation or heart-stammering green-eyed stares.
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After Lysander shows up at LACMA with Theo following his return from New York after that momentuous phone call the night that Theo finished creating their song collaboration, now Theo is headed back to meet Lysander at his apartment to listen to the collab together. Will Theo find the courage to ask if they’re officially dating now or not? How will the world-famous pop star respond!
Read on to find out!
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[First Page of Chapter Preview]
The personal assistant Lysander sent to fetch Theo turned out to be a woman in her thirties, dressed in a professional-looking white dress shirt and black pencil skirt, her brown hair pulled back into a tight bun. She was pretty, but indifferent, giving him only a perfunctory smile as she led him downstairs to where a plain black company car was parked perpendicular to several other spots.
As he slipped into the back seat—somehow, the idea of sitting up front with her was more intimidating—Theo tried not to wonder how many similar errands the woman had been sent on…how many times she’d driven paramours over to meet Lysander exactly like he was about to be.
Drowning in the silence, Theo tried to start a conversation by asking how long she’d been working for Lysander. But she gave only halting answers, close-ended with no opportunity to keep the conversation going. At every intersection, she consulted her phone—which made Theo nervous, since he’d been in accidents before caused by distracted drivers—but just under an hour later, they pulled into the expensive apartment complex’s underground parking lot. She escorted him to the elevators, then rode with him all the way to the top floor.
Stepping inside gingerly after she’d opened the apartment door for him, Theo took a slow gander at the interior. It was exactly as he remembered it, although there were a few suitcases next to the couch, not yet unpacked. Lysander himself was nowhere in view, but the assistant said, “Mr. Delion will be with you in a moment,” then left the apartment, leaving Theo to stand awkwardly on the other side of the door with his arms clutched about his laptop as if it were a lifejacket.
At last, minutes later, Lysander strode into the living room, hair damp and body naked except for a towel about his waist. Theo’s mouth went dry at the sight of the pop star’s sculpted chest—he’d seen topless photos of Lysander in magazines before, but they were nothing compared to the real thing.
“Oh!” the singer called out to him, immediately delighted. “Theo. Welcome. So Cindy got you here okay?”
Belatedly, the memory of the personal assistant introducing herself when she’d first shown up at his apartment door passed through him, but he’d been so nervous that he’d promptly forgotten her name again—guilt suffused him as he gave a slow nod, tearing his eyes away from Lysander’s abs to his face.
Lysander’s smile turned vaguely sultry, obviously catching Theo’s hungry stare at him, and he hooked a thumb inside the rim of the wrapped towel, almost as if toying with the idea of dropping it and revealing his entire body. He kept it on for now, though, indicating the couch with a nod. “C’mon, sit down. You thirsty? Hungry? The video call is supposed to happen in half an hour, but it shouldn’t last more than three hours. You’re welcome to go wherever you want while I’m on the call. You can play around in the recording room if you want, or I can show you the media room. You like video games, right?”
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Chapter Fourteen of “Fractured Heart: the Tale of the Pop Star and the Pauper” is now available to read at patreon.com/fracturedheart (“SFW” version) and patreon.com/fracturedheartAO (“as intended” adult only version)!
You can also read chapters 1 – 8 totally for free at the patreon links above!
Following that monumental late night phone call where Theo started to feel the faint glimmerings of possibility that Lysander might want to be more than just friends, he’s waiting outside of LACMA to reconnect with the singer and find out in person how Lysander truly feels about him, once and for all. Is Theo correct in his tentative assumptions that the world-famous pop star DOES want to be in a romantic relationship with him? Or does the celebrity just want to be “friends with benefits” with him?
Read on to find out!
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[First Page of Chapter Preview]
After several more minutes of waiting for an updated ETA from Lysander, Theo determined that the bus stop bench wasn’t particularly comfortable. So he made his way back to the outside of the museum to plop onto the same cement wall as before, his legs pulled up to sit cross-legged while he hunched over his phone like all the other youths there his age or younger. But he was tired of looking at his phone, and too antsy besides; though his feet were faintly sore after spending hours walking around in platform boots—should have worn sneakers, he realized belatedly, even if it would have ruined the look—he rose back to his feet and did another slow tour of the area, doing his best not to glance sideways constantly as if Lysander might appear around any corner.
Night had fully fallen, soft lamplight illuminating the curving cement paths scattered with stragglers admiring the outside installations since the museum itself had closed half an hour ago, by the time he finally got word from Lysander that the singer had arrived.
I’m here. Where are you?
Back to proper grammar, then. Theo glanced up—the closest landmark within sight was the art installation composed of rows of cast-iron lampposts that he’d first arrived at, now providing the only illumination for the immediate area; a bastion of warm yellow light in the midst of the mist-saturated gloom. ‘Urban Lights’, he texted back.
The installation was a famous landmark, featured in countless movies and photo shoots; Lysander himself might have already done a fashion shoot or two there in the past. Finding a corner lamp to lean against, Theo rested with his back to it, folded his arms across his chest for warmth, and waited.
At last, he saw a familiar tall figure approaching from the other side of the installation wearing a black mask, but instead of his customary plain white hoodie, the singer had on a black one swirled with streaks of gold that shone under the light like trails of pixie dust. Theo’s heart stopped then burst into a thunderous staccato, and it was all he could do to remain patiently by the corner, waiting for the celebrity to approach him one loping stride at a time.
Lysander stopped right next to him, hands in the front pockets of his jacket, and Theo looked up at him, feeling suddenly too anxious to smile. The singer’s eyes were tired, but he pulled his mask down for a few moments to bathe Theo in a bright grin. “Hi.”
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