Four Men And A Dusty Piano
We sometimes encounter people, even perfect strangers,who begin to interest us at first sight,
somehow suddenly, all at once, before a word has been spoken.
- Fyodor Dostoevsky
Howard Donald could not explain the
fascination he had for the little red music shop on the corner of Oldham
Street. ‘Barlow’s’ was written in dingy gold on the dusty maroon of the
shop-front and in the window rested an abstract collection of old records, assorted
musical instruments and scattered songbooks. Howard had first walked past it on
a stroll round town and, though he couldn’t say why, he hadn’t been able to
shake the memory of it since. He would walk past it on his way to the shopping
centre, or glance into its warmth on an icy day’s trek to the pub, and find
himself wondering what sort of people worked inside. It looked like the sort of
shop which should be presided over by a tottering old man in a cardigan –
hundreds of years of knowledge in his eyes, magic in his fingers as he sits at
an old piano. But still Howard never ventured inside. Of course, he himself had
a love of music, though he didn’t call himself a musician. He could bang on the
drums and perhaps string a tune together on a piano but he certainly didn’t
feel worthy of the little red and gold shop on Oldham Street. He was a DJ by
profession, but Barlow’s didn’t look like it would know what a DJ was. And, for
this reason, it took a whole year of simply walking past before he came to the
conclusion that he needed an excuse to go inside.
It was a cold winter’s morning. A little bell on the door jangled and Howard’s daughter – as eager to explore as he was – shot quickly from his side to look around. The shop was bigger than it looked from the outside, all manner of musical instruments and sheet music crammed together on every surface, clustering in every corner on the main shopfloor. Beyond a small doorway at the back of the space was a backroom that seemed to be filled with pianos, whilst a sign pinned up on the staircase indicated that the records could be found upstairs. Two men sat on the staircase, steaming mugs in their hands and surprised looks on their faces. One of them had ash-blonde hair, a slightly world-weary, though kindly, face and bold, blue-green eyes. His dark eyebrows were raised high, but there was a peculiarly homely charm about him, just visible behind his startled expression. The other man was smaller and slighter, his light brown hair longer and fluffier, artfully mussed into a style which probably took longer than you might expect to achieve. His round eyes were starry and twinkling, smile lines the only creases on his cherubic, innocent face. Both men were smartly dressed, though the blonde looked slightly less polished, admittedly, and to Howard’s amusement he noticed that the little one, though effortlessly stylish in every other was, was kitted out with substantially stacked heels. By the looks on their faces Howard supposed they weren’t too used to customers. The blonde one grunted a greeting of some sort, casting an almost protective glance towards the pianos as Howard’s daughter hurried off to inspect them. Howard nodded back and the smaller of the two men shot him a dazzling grin as he paused from blowing on his tea.
“Shout me if you want a brew,” he smiled, wide eyes sparkling. Howard had never been in a shop that offered him a cuppa before and that thought alone made him smile. He thanked the man with another nod before wandering into the side room.
There was a peace in this strange little shop that seemed to stem from more than just its stillness, and the floorboards creaked welcomingly as he stepped through the archway. In the next room he found shelves filled with songbooks and sheet music; everything from hymns to the Top 40 was crammed on the dust-laden shelves, which seemed haphazard and yet, somehow, Howard could detect that there was an order imposed on the disarray. A secret order that few understood, perhaps, but Howard could tell it was there. Glancing around he spotted that he was not alone: in the corner of the room, perching cross-legged up on the shop’s counter, was a man - a quietly handsome man, mug of tea in one hand and his nose buried in a book. The man captured Howard even more than the shop and he found himself staring. He supposed he shouldn’t, it was rude and a little odd to stare so hard at someone without knowing them, without them even realising, and he couldn’t really explain why he did. But he did stare and he couldn’t help it. He seemed strangely familiar somehow, as though he'd seen him from a distance a long time ago and committed him to his memory. The man had dark hair, though a shaft of sunlight that fell across him streaked it a lighter shade of brown in places, and it fell in half-waves and sweeps about his pleasingly angular face. His jawline was pronounced, his lashes long, blue eyes bright despite being downturned. He was lean - thin even - but with broad shoulders and strong arms and he held himself with a natural grace and ease that was undeniably captivating. He was good looking in that classic sense that surprisingly few people were, but strangely that wasn't what held Howard's attention the most. It was more than that: there was just something about him. He seemed elegant, proud somehow, and there was a thoughtful incline to his head as he studied his book. Lost in thought, his brow was knitted ever so slightly and his eyes shone, and silently Howard took in the calm scratch of stubble that grazed his jawline and the way the man's fingers moved – restless and rhythmic – against his mug. He was still but constantly moving and Howard couldn't help feeling fascinated by that contradiction.
“Morning…” he said awkwardly at last, finding himself inexplicably desperate for the man’s attention. And when the man slowly looked up from his book, Howard felt a dazed smile touch his lips, a knot forming somewhere in his chest as those blue eyes fixed on him. The man's smile was soft and he took a sip of his tea, his book falling idly into his lap as he looked over at Howard, his head on one side.
“Mornin’,” he said quietly, setting his tea down on the counter. His smile widened almost mischievously, and for a moment Howard wondered if he knew every thought that had been running through his head in those moments of silence which had passed between the two of them. Then the man shrugged casually and the spell was broken. “Let me know if you need any help,” he said, blue eyes still unwaveringly piercing and bright amidst the shop’s dim warmth. His smile lit up the space between them – as quiet as it was – and Howard could almost see the particles of dust it disturbed, could almost feel them tickling his skin. Wrenching his feet from the spot, he slowly walked across to a bookcase, pretending to browse, still stealing glances at the man, who for his part had set his book down and was leaning back on his hands, watching Howard with an unreadable expression on his face.
“This your shop then?” Howard asked after a beat, looking back over his shoulder at the man and hoping he sounded casual enough.
“Nah, Gaz’s…he’s the grumpy one out front,” the man grinned mischievously and Howard couldn’t prevent his chuckle. The man’s eyes scanned him briefly and they stayed that way for a second or two, each watching the other, before the man finally looked down and smothered his smile, picking up his book once more, effectively forcing Howard to draw his eyes back to the shelves.
Silence passed unbroken for several minutes as Howard ran an idle hand over a row of songbooks until, eventually, the sound of footsteps caused both men to look up. Howard’s daughter bounded up to him, babbling about something that Howard couldn’t quite follow. He was aware of the man’s blue eyes watching them with a natural curiosity, and he felt the urge to explain – perhaps he was just happy of the excuse to talk to the man again.
“My daughter,” he said softly, with one of those small, apologetic smiles that all parents knew well. He glanced up at the man and was surprised to find their eyes meeting immediately. The man inclined his head.
“She’s a sweetie,” he said, his voice kind and rough.
“When she wants to be,” Howard joked gently in reply and he felt stupidly happy when the man rewarded him with a soft chuckle.
“I think my mum used to say something similar about me,” he said, lips quirked in a wry, rueful smile and his eyes glittering with a shy sort of mischief that Howard found enchanting. Noticing her father’s unusually sappy grin, Grace stopped her babbling mid-sentence and looked between the two of them with wide-eyed curiosity before she quickly grew bored of their staring and started talking again. Howard nodded placatingly at his daughter as she talked, but secretly he still snatched glances at the man over Grace's shoulder, even as he crouched down to be on his daughter’s level. He was pleasantly surprised to realise that this time the man had not returned to his book, and was instead still watching them thoughtfully, head still on one side.
“Did I hear you say Gaz let you near one of his pianos?” the man interjected after a while, bringing Grace and Howard’s eyes to him once more.
“Why?” Howard frowned, standing up. The man simply shrugged, an amused smile on his lips, his eyes now dancing in a way that even held Grace’s attention. The man waggled his eyebrows and his eyes flashed at Howard in a ‘You’ll See’ way as he leant back.
“Mark?” he called out, eyes staying on Howard even as a head popped around the corner. Reluctant as he was to look away, Howard turned when he saw the movement and was greeted once more by two round, sparkling blue-grey eyes; the smaller man from the shop's stairs was smiling dazzlingly as his gaze swept over all the occupants of the room before coming to settle on the man who had summoned him.
“What can I do for ya?” Mark asked brightly, giving a polite little nod to Howard and flashing a wink at Grace.
“Can you remember when the last time Gaz let a customer touch one of the pianos was?” the man asked him, his tone half-serious but a definite trace of laughter just detectable at the edges. Mark’s grin widened and he made a show of putting thought to the question, one eyebrow quirked, one eye closed, his finger tapping his lips.
“Oo…um, some time in the late 90s maybe?” he suggested after a beat and the man nodded to say his point had been proven.
“Lucky girl,” he winked at Grace as Mark winked too, chuckling softly even as he disappeared back into the front room. Grace was now beaming up at the man broadly, her smile shyly excited as she revelled in having his full attention focused on her. It was Howard’s turn to glance from person to person, smiling fondly at both.
The moment was broken by the chime of his phone from his pocket, and Howard winced, pulling the phone out and glancing at the time with a grimace - the chime was his ten minute warning to get himself and Grace to a family gathering on time, and despite his usually off-kilter time keeping being an accepted trait by his family under normal circumstances, today he'd made a promise and plans had been set firm around it.
“We have to get going, Gracie,’ he sighed, ruffling her hair when she pouted up at him and let out a string of huffy protests. Howard offered her an apologetic, lopsided smile before looking back up to find the man was watching him again. ‘It was nice to meet you…” Howard trailed off, realising he didn’t know the man’s name, and the man laughed softly, his expression wry and yet oddly fond.
“Jason Orange,” he offered, and then, after a small pause, he folded his arms and met Howard’s eyes. “But if you tell me your name then I’ll let you call me Jay,” he added, eyes glittering playfully. Howard felt a small, shy laugh escape him, though how it happened he couldn’t’ be sure, because his breath had definitely hitched in his throat. Was that…flirtation? Or just the man’s natural charm? He smiled back at him softly and nodded, meeting his eyes to accept the half-challenge he had been offered.
“Howard Donald,” he said, with what he hoped a mischievous grin. “And you can call me what you like,” he said, waggling his eyebrows. He felt an absurd amount of pride when Jason laughed – a small, honest laugh – and met his eyes. The effect was joyous.
“I’ll hold you to that,” Jason shot back with a smirk, a definite glint in those piercing eyes as he looked Howard up and down. And in that moment it became clear to Howard what his fascination with this shop was, or at least, what it had become. Jason’s lips pursed slightly, suppressing a smile, and Howard nodded vaguely before turning away. He just managed not to shoot ‘I hope you do’ over his shoulder as he left.
***
In the years since splitting up with Grace’s mother, Howard had rarely indulged in any serious, long-term romances, though it had been known for him to become more involved than he meant to without really realising it was happening. Grace – as young as she was – had done her fair share of damage too, but Howard wasn’t one to shy away from the fact most of his problems with romance were his fault. And in any case, relationships just weren’t as important to him as they seemed to be to other people; in his view he had a job which was awkward but brilliant, and a daughter he adored, and he had not met one person who shone brightly enough to matter in comparison. But his past disinterest in romance could, he was starting to realise, have simply been because he’d never met anyone like Jason Orange before. Walking into Barlow’s Music Shop had turned Howard’s whole world view upside-down; it wasn’t love at first sight, truth be told Howard didn’t really know what it was, but he had felt something that afternoon that had felt so different to any other feeling in his life, something he hadn’t needed before he’d felt it but was now unable to stop turning over in his head. He wanted to chase it, wanted more of it, wanted to understand it and know it and feel it again, but more of it. Because Howard was sure he had glimpsed something in Jason Orange’s eyes – a flash of something which could just get brighter, given due attention. Something in the dusty little shop had shifted the air around him, made it taste different and strange. He didn’t know much about Jason, but he wanted to – and what he did know intrigued him, captured his thoughts for no reason in the middle of the night and played on his mind, the image of that thoughtful expression and those twinkling eyes too intense and too interesting to set aside. Of course, Jason had only met him once, and Howard had no idea if that flash of mischief between the two of them had been anything more or less than his normal charm – as much as he felt it had been special, significant, he didn’t know Jason well enough to judge. And in any case, all the man knew about Howard was his name and that he had a daughter. Neither of those facts seemed to scream romantic interest, Howard supposed. But he wasn’t sure what would, or if it even mattered in any case; scruffy Howard Donald with his terrible jokes, his dark, matted curls and appalling timekeeping didn’t really seem to belong with the quietly charming, nose-in-a-book Jason Orange. This man was beautiful and thoughtful and mischievous and, whatever flaws he might be hiding behind that handsome face, Howard was sure he was still a long way out of his league. And yet, no matter how many times he went over that argument in his head, he still couldn’t shake the hope that Jason had also noticed the way the air seemed to change around the two of them when they talked. The way that there seemed to be static crackling just behind their every exchange. Howard thought he looked like a man who would notice things, after all.
It became clear to Howard that he was falling – hopelessly falling into something or other he didn’t quite understand. But there was absolutely nothing he could do. And for all the back and forth in his head, he knew, deep down, that a part of him had already decided to just stop struggling and let himself fall. He had to go back to the shop – as ridiculous as he knew it was, he also couldn’t help but feel that he had nothing to lose. If nothing else, he thought he could probably find friends in Barlow’s Music Shop.
Howard returned to the shop exactly one week after his first visit, trying to ignore the way that faint memories of those blue eyes still lapped at the back of his mind. As the shop’s bell jangled, he glanced around, taking in the strangely familiar way the place glowed a warm amber and the sound of the creaking floorboards beneath his feet. The blonde man whom Jason had indicated to be the owner was stood in the back room, a hand resting on a piano, eyes glancing with mild interest at the door. Howard gave him a nod, looking around for any sign of Mark, but the cheerful man was nowhere to be seen. So, taking a deep breath, Howard walked into the side room. And there he was: leaning idly against the shop’s counter, a guitar balanced against his leg as he strummed softly, a delicate tune that Howard allowed himself to be enchanted by. Jason seemed to have a connection to music; the way he surrounded himself with it and fell into it, was infinitely appealing to Howard. The way he leant into the rhythm and melody, the constant movement that existed in him. Howard didn’t know anyone like that, even his friends who did love music didn’t seem to live it that way. And yet here was someone who did; someone who understood, someone who might not laugh at him when he climbed inside his own head as he listened to a really good song. It was significant to Howard.
As Jason finished, Howard came further into the room, his heart constricting at the gentle smile of recognition that graced Jason’s thin lips.
“Hello again, Howard Donald.” The air shifted again and again something tickled Howard’s skin as their eyes met. “I still haven’t decided what I’m going to call you yet, but that seems like a good start,” Jason added with a smirk and Howard felt his normally shy heart beat a little louder, as if it too recognized Jason. His lips quirked up at the corners.
“Most people just call me Tosser, so Howard Donald is a definite step up,” he grinned and Jason chuckled, the sound soft and low. Howard nodded his head towards the guitar then. “That tune was beautiful…did you write it?” he asked.
“No…no it’s one of Gaz’s. Mark helped I think. Me? I’m more of a lyricist. At best. Worrier at worst,” Jason replied modestly, his fingers still resting on the frets, a look of contemplation still light on his face.
“Still beautiful,” Howard said, eyes no longer on the guitar but instead set firmly on the man holding it. Jason’s gaze came up once more and their eyes were allowed to meet again, but both men seemed to realise this was dangerous and quietly looked away before the air between them became too thin and left them dizzy.
“Thank you,” Jason murmured at last.
The moment was broken by a series of loud thuds on the staircase in the front room, which were polished off with a clatter and bump. Howard and Jason both jumped slightly at the eruption of noise, looking up and turning towards the racket.
“Mark! Would you mind not throwing the biscuits around!” A gently reprimanding tease was evident in Gary’s voice as he bellowed.
“There’s biscuit all over my hat now!” was Mark's grumbled response, and there was a sound which Howard assumed to be Gary heaving him back onto his feet. Howard turned back around and his and Jason’s eyes met once more, causing them both to chuckle, Jason shrugging slightly and rolling his eyes.
“Mates, eh, who’d have ‘em?” he joked faintly and Howard grinned.
“Oh, they seem alright. They seem fun, actually,’ he said, then pulled a face. “Well…Mark does,” he added teasingly and Jason laughed.
“Gaz is alright, I promise…his bark is worse than his bite. Once he’s had a couple of McVities then you probably won’t find a better mate,” he said, eyes smiling back at Howard warmly. “And anyway, anyone can look grumpy next to Mark.”
“You’re saying that, Orange, but do you mind me asking what Gary’s like when he hasn’t had a couple of McVities?” Howard smiled and Jason raised an eyebrow, entertained at the challenge and just about managing to smother his grin.
“Are you calling me a liar?” he shot back quickly and Howard shrugged in a show of being casual, his ice-blue eyes glittering and playful.
“I’m calling you a charmer, and I bet I’m not the first,” he remarked and Jason folded his arms, trying to hide his smile as he shook his head.
“Maybe. Or maybe you should be careful what you say.”
“You’re a smiler, Orange. And I’m onto you,” Howard grinned back, making Jason laugh.
“Yeah? Well good luck trying to figure me out,” he countered gently and Howard’s smile softened.
“I like a challenge,” he replied quietly. Something had shifted in the air again, only this time it served to make both men look up, each meeting the other’s gaze. It was Jason who looked away first, Howard finding himself feeling unusually bold in the face of Jason’s challenges. He liked the game.
“They write music then?” Howard questioned after a moment, eager to keep Jason talking for as long as he could. He needed an excuse to just look at him, to study the way his face would crease into a new arrangement for every thought that crossed his mind.
“We all play at it…Gaz always wanted to make it, you know? Always wanted to have his name on the cover of an album or a songbook, preferably both. Life’s crap to nice blokes sometimes though, I guess. So here he is. But…we’re happy being Three Men And A Dusty Piano; our sort-of band. Mark’s idea, that name – me and Gaz didn’t have the heart to tell him what a mouthful it is.” Jason smiled fondly and rolled his eyes in a show of exasperation that didn’t convince. “Still, sometimes I can’t help but feel like something’s missing…” he said after a moment, his voice a half-whisper as he glanced up once more, regarding Howard thoughtfully. Howard’s cheeks felt warm under the scrutiny of his gaze, but at the same time, he liked it, didn’t want that feeling to subside or that scrutiny to go away. A part of him couldn’t help entertaining the idea that Jason thought Howard to be the missing piece.
“So how did you all end up working here then?” Howard said, having to force his voice to work, blinking slightly and swallowing hard before finally turning his eyes away from Jason’s and looking around the shop with a curious frown.
“We don’t – well, not all of us. Mark doesn’t really work here…practically live here, maybe, but we certainly don’t pay him. He’s just good to have around the place. He’s incurably nice that man. He makes us tea and chats at us all morning, then in the afternoon he heads off to his job in the caff up the road – dispensing muffins and fashion advice to anyone who’ll listen. He used to work in a bank but they fired him for making too much small talk with the customers,” Jason grinned fondly, the very mention of Mark enough to raise a smile, and Howard smiled too, finding it all too easy to imagine Mark talking the ears off every person he met.
“What about you and Gaz?” he asked, conscious of his questioning but still determined to know as much about this man as possible before letting himself pay attention to the sparks each of them was throwing into the air for the other to catch.
“Gaz just loves music…when he never got the break he needed, he bought this place. Off the bloke who sold him his first ever piano, actually. And as for me? Well…Gaz and me found friendship at an audition. I was a dancer, he was a singer…we weren’t picked for the group in the end but we stayed in touch. I used to be a painter-decorator for a while; I've got a twin brother and it was our sort-of double act for as long as we could stand working together. It was never supposed to be permanent though, so we both moved on in the end. But I’ve been around, done odd jobs, always used to dance on the side - did a few professional jobs here and there but I didn't stick with it in the end.”
“Did you dance around Manchester then? Like breakdance, with a crew and everything?”
“I was part of Street Machine,” Jason confessed, his voice soft and modest but an undeniably proud little grin touching his lips and widening as he noticed a spark of recognition come alive in Howard’s eyes. “You danced too, right?” he asked then, surprise and respect mingling in his tone, and Howard chuckled.
“I dabbled. I was never as good as any of your lot though.” He shook his head slightly. “So it was you…you jammy, talented bastard.” The tease was out before he could stop it, but to his great relief it only made Jason’s smile widen, and he shrugged earnestly in reply. “So come on – what changed? You could’ve taken that somewhere, you know. I remember your crew. I remember the best guys; you all had a shot. And you – you were the one who got all the jobs. I knew that much, even if I didn’t know your name.”
“I don’t know. Maybe I could’ve stuck with it – I loved it. Still do. Life got in the way I guess,” Jason said, glancing down and shrugging. Howard suspected there was a story there but he didn’t know the man well enough to push so he simply nodded understandingly. Jason glanced up at him with a rueful smile. “After that I travelled, went back to college for a bit, used up most of my savings. And after that was over I just felt like I wanted something…different. And Gaz had just got this place and needed help here so…here I am,” Jason explained slowly, gesturing a hand around the dusty bookshelves. Howard smiled, nodding slowly.
“Here you are,” he echoed, his eyes on Jason rather than the dusty shop, and Jason glanced across at him, their eyes meeting immediately and sending a shiver down Howard’s spine.
“Biccy, Jay?” a voice interrupted and Howard swallowed his disappointment, looking down at his shoes. “Oh ‘ello again!” Mark beamed, leaning against the archway, all sunshine and colour. “Mark Owen, at your service - biccy?” he offered, waving a biscuit tin in Howard’s direction, mischief in his eyes.
“Mark will you give me back those biscuits!” grumbled a voice in the background before Howard could respond, and Gary immediately appeared behind Mark in the archway.
“Not ‘til I get my hat back – crumb-free please!” Mark countered, still holding out the biscuit tin to Howard and Jason. Gary sighed and rolled his eyes, his affectionate smile betraying his lack of annoyance as he removed the hat from his head and pushed it onto Mark’s before swiftly plucking the biscuit tin from Mark’s hand and turning to smile at Howard.
“Back again?” he asked Howard, and Howard suddenly became very aware of his lack of excuse to be here. He could tell them Jason had put him under some incurable spell, but that would not come across as smooth or natural – though he suspected it wouldn’t be the first time such a thing had happened.
“Yeah…you know, I er…I like my music. Not many places round here I get to get lost in it. Anyway, my daughter’s with her mum, leaving me with a serious boredom problem before work tonight,” Howard explained stiltedly, casting a longing glance at Jason. Only Mark noticed and he looked between Jason and Howard with intrigue.
“Well you’re in the right place for music, mate. Just, please don’t buy any of my pianos,” Gary put in, casting a glance over his shoulder as if the pianos may be in danger without him near.
“Born salesman our Gaz,” Jason said playfully and Mark chuckled.
“At least Barlow talks to the customers,” he pointed out, sticking his tongue out at Jason.
“And this is your business how, Marko? You don't even work here. Anyway, I’m talking to Howard aren’t I?” Jason protested, receiving a knowing look from Mark.
“Yeah, you are – funny that,” the smaller man commented, eyes scrutinizing Jason. Howard saw the way Jason narrowed his eyes at Mark and he couldn’t help the bubble of pleasure and pride at just how much of an effect he seemed to have on Jason, unable to deny the thrill of excitement that went through him at seeing some sign that he wasn’t the only one who saw the sparks in the air every time they shot their teases back and forth at each other. He tried his best to swallow it, hoping he could get away before Mark’s scrutiny turned on him and the game was well and truly given away.
“Actually, I’d best be going,’ he said, forcing his voice to work. “I’m meeting someone about a DJ gig in half an hour. But I’ll stop by again sometime maybe, as long as you don’t mind me cluttering up the place,” he said with a rueful smile, unable to stop himself glancing at Jason as he spoke. And Jason’s eyes met his with a silent smile that Howard retuned, not caring any more if Mark Owen was looking between the two of them and grinning – which, in fact, he was.
Howard was reluctant to move but he finally managed to step away, giving the three men a little nod of goodbye before grudgingly heading towards the exit. Jason seemed equally disappointed to see him leaving and that, at least, gave Howard a little comfort.
“See ya, Howard, come back any time,” Mark called, longing to play matchmaker, and Howard glanced over his shoulder with a smirk. He glanced one last time at Jason, and found, to his amusement, that he was smirking too. He rolled his eyes at Mark in fond exasperation and Howard chuckled.
“Don’t be a stranger,” Jason told him with a smile and Howard couldn’t stop himself from grinning as he finally left the shop.
***
Jason stood in the doorway to the piano room, leaning idly on the doorframe as he watched his two best friends bicker. The slight frame of Mark Owen was draped across the top of Gary’s favourite baby grand piano in a pose which would have been seductive if Mark’s teasing hadn’t been so childish. His soft brown hair flopped down as he lay on his back, head tipped far enough behind him so he could still see Gary’s disgruntled expression. Part of his fringe fell with a swish across the keys, tickling Gary’s fingers. Gary shot him a withering look from his place at the piano stool, but Mark simply grinned back at him, popping another Jelly Baby into his mouth and rolling onto his stomach with a giggle, hair now falling in his eyes.
“Relax, Barlow, I’m giving her a polish!” he smiled sweetly.
“You’re smudging her,” Gary said with a jokey pout, his temper thwarted easily by Mark’s grin. Mark grabbed another Jelly Baby and Gary whipped it out of his hand mischievously, eating it swiftly and waggling his eyebrows at Mark in a show of victory.
“Jelly Fiend!” Mark gasped over-dramatically.
“Concentrate, Owen, we’re trying to be serious musicians here!” Gary reprimanded and Mark simply pulled a face at him before spotting Jason out of the corner of his eye.
“'Ello, Jay!” Mark exclaimed, deciding to ignore Gary.
“Eh up, Marko, he’s got his serious face on,” Gary warned, glancing over his shoulder at Jason and chuckling, shaking his head, but Mark waved a dismissive hand at him.
“What’s wrong, Jay?” he asked, his voice rough and genuine, coaxing a small smile out of Jason.
“Nothing much, Markie, I’m just tired,’ he said, stifling a yawn before pushing himself up from the door frame and stepping down into the back room.
Mark watched Jason cross the room and slide down into the chair in the corner before propping himself up on his elbows and flashing him a playful grin. When Jason caught the look his lips twisted into a wry, defeated smirk as he guessed what was coming next.
“Finished chatting to lover boy?” Mark asked, narrowing his eyes at Jason. It had been a little over a month since Howard’s visits to the shop had become commonplace and a little under a month since Mark had made it his mission to pair Howard up with his friend. Jason had grown used to the teasing – and he was pretty sure Howard wasn’t as blind to it as he pretended to be – but his cautious nature refused to let him allow himself to be carried away with his and Howard’s easy banter the way Mark seemed to have been. He rested his head back and sighed.
“If you mean ‘has Howard left?’ then yes, he has. Now can we drop it?” he asked and Mark rolled his eyes.
“Oh come on, Jay, he definitely fancies you! Do you not see the way he looks at you? The way he has looked at you since day one? Come on, he’s practically undressing you with his eyes now. And don’t even get me started on the way you look at him,” Mark retorted.
“Eh! None of that in my shop thank you!” Gary protested.
“Oh, Barlow, you’re such a prude!” Mark joked, giving Gary a playful smack on the head and making Jason laugh despite himself.
“You can put away your bow and arrow, Cupid, it’s not happening,” he sighed after a beat.
“Oh come on, Jay!” Mark shot back, fixing him with that dazzling, sweet smile of his, round eyes wide and bright. “Come on, live a little! Do you ever take a risk on anything?! We both know you want to kiss him – so just kiss him!” Mark said, animated frustration dancing across his expressive features.
“Just not in front of the customers…what little stuff we do sell in here will never get shifted unless you are fully available to blind them with your charm,” Gary injected, only half-joking. “They need to believe the illusion – not see it shattered when they find out you’re not actually in love with them,” he added teasingly, and Jason rolled his eyes at him, his smile affectionate even as he folded his arms in defiance.
“I know the rules, Gaz; no in-store relationships distracting me from the charm offensive - I am fully available for the flirt-for-the-sell, no worries,” he joked, batting his eyelashes playfully before shaking his head.
“Hey, if it works it works!” Gary chuckled with a shrug. It was Mark’s turn to roll his eyes.
“Jay, I’m being serious!! What if he’s the one? You two are so funny when you get bickering, always challenging each other with your eyes and one-upping each other. Sometimes the two of you just start laughing before the sentences are even finished – and Howard’s got this funny little schoolboy-shy laugh when you get to him, have you noticed? It’s only you can get that out of him, Jay. And it’s not like you can be shallow and say you don’t fancy him, because he’s gorgeous and you know it,” Mark argued. Jason turned his eyes down, twisting his lips to stop himself smiling.
“Is he? Gorgeous? Really?” Gary frowned.
“How have you not noticed?” Mark asked him, incredulous.
“Gaz only has eyes for one man, Markie,” Jason muttered under his breath, but the other two hadn’t heard him. Mark was sitting up now, legs dangling over the edge of the piano.
“Howard’s got that handsome-rugged thing going on, and you know that’s really in fashion right now. And he’s all tall and muscly. And he has the most incredible eyes – not that you’d be able to know because they’re never on anyone but Jay, though,” Mark reeled off, swinging his legs cheerfully and glancing at Jason with a smirk. Gary simply frowned and shook his head, also looking over at Jason with his eyebrows quirked.
“The man has a point, Jay,” he said and Jason laughed softly, still avoiding his friends’ eyes and choosing instead to stare at the arm of the chair, picking at a mark on it determinedly. “Come on, mate, you two would match up pretty well. How many people are there that similar to you and that different at the same time? It’s got to work!” Gary pressed. “At least ask him out…I think he’s too shy to ask you first,” he added, and Mark nodded in agreement.
“I think he’s shyer than you expect at first – but you got past that right away, you know that for sure. That has to mean something, Jay,” he concluded, and Jason finally looked up at him, brow knotted in thought.
For a drawn out moment Jason stared back at his two friends as they looked at him expectantly, before he finally let out a heavy sigh, rubbing his hand over his face.
“It’s not that simple though is it. You know what I’m like; I over-think and I worry and…I just have so many things that someone would have to get past to go out with me in any serious way. I have walls, you know? And issues. I spend whole nights wide awake just thinking about everything...I worry about stupid things. And I overthink things and I work myself into stupid corners. I obsess about details, I can’t get to the end of a sentence half the time without going off onto some tangent. Sometimes I worry so much about what I’m eating that I actually eat my muesli dry – and I know that’s not normal because my brothers actually wince if they happen to be there when I do it,” he explained, flashing a wry smile before looking down and biting his lip.
“Well that bit I have to agree with – it’s got to be Coco Pops. Or something with sugar,” Gary nodded sagely, and Jason smiled at him, grateful for the humour. Mark shook his head with mild exasperation.
“Jay, don’t take this the wrong way, but that's what we love about you, you know? You’re a bit…wrong. I mean…you’re not perfect. It makes you interesting. And you’re a good mate because of it. You know, it’s that old cliché; every imperfection is what makes you just right. I think Howard would get that too,” he said softly.
“Trust me, lads, ok? I’m just…way too complicated, especially for someone like Howard. He likes the simple life. You know I’m neurotic at the best of times; can you imagine trying to break through all of that? It’s why I’m single; it’s just easier for everyone. Nothing with me is ever simple…I even drive myself to distraction. I’m a borderline insomniac, I’m slightly schizophrenic and to top it off I’m just oh-so-slightly OCD…just a little out of reach all the time. And that’s fine, I’m ok with that, as long as I don’t have to try and deal with anyone who wants to try and change it,” Jay let out, frustrated now.
“That’d make a good lyric that,” Gary mused aloud and Mark gave him a small kick.
“Natural lyricist, yes. Boyfriend? Not so much,” Jason said, finding humour in his frustration and making Gary chuckle. But Mark just watched him quietly.
“I think you might be surprised, Jay. And I’m not too sure Howard wants to change you much at all either,” he said at last, fishing out another Jelly Baby and smiling brightly.
“That’s coz you’re an eternal optimist,” Jason reminded him. Mark shrugged, dropping his Jelly Baby as he did so.
“It’s a good way to be sometimes,” he remarked.
“You’re getting powder on her!” Gary warned, pointing at the abandoned Jelly Baby before placing a protective hand on his piano. Jason smothered a laugh.
“No, I’m dusting her! Remember the good old days when she actually was a dusty piano?” Mark attempted, picking up the Jelly Baby and popping it into his mouth cheekily.
“He’s still glaring, mate,” Jason said with amusement.
“You love me really,” Mark assured him, something sweet in his soft Rs that couldn’t be fought with, and Gary sat mute as Mark flopped back onto his stomach, stretching across to give him a kiss on his cheek. As he pulled back he wrinkled his nose slightly.
“What?” Gary questioned, mildly affronted.
“We need to get you some new aftershave,” Mark replied and Jason laughed as Gary swotted the smaller man jokingly.
The three men looked around at the sound of the bell on the door. Jason yawned and rubbed at a crick in his neck, pushing himself out of his chair.
“Looks like I’m on back on charm duty,” he noted, stretching and heading into the front room. Gary nodded as if in agreement, slapping a hand on his thigh and standing up.
“Time for a brew I think,” he stated and he too left the room for the tiny kitchenette at the very back of the shop. Mark stayed put a moment, then slowly a frown began to fill his face.
“Um…lads, can you help me down from the piano?!” he called out, sitting up. No reply came so he sighed softly and popped one more Jelly Baby into his mouth, quietly pondering. He wasn’t sure if it was the Jelly Babies, but Gary Barlow actually tasted quiet nice.
***
The small staircase creaked as Jason joined Mark and Gary, handing them each a mug before sitting down on the steps beside them. There was a small smile on his lips as he watched his friends, their brows furrowed in matching looks of concern mixed in with concentration and disappointment as they tried to listen in to a voice memo on Mark’s phone. Eventually Mark sighed and looked at Gary sadly, putting his phone back into the pocket of his jeans.
“I swear it was gold, you know? But I was half-asleep at the time,” said, pulling a face. Gary chuckled and took a sip of his tea, exchanging a knowing glance with Jason, eyes twinkling.
“Cheer up, Marko, it’s not your fault,” he said, giving Mark a gentle nudge with his shoulder.
“Oh, I know…I just feel like we’ve been stuck on this for weeks. Now it might never work,” Mark huffed, staring down into his tea grumpily.
“Come on, drink up, who knows – it might inspire us!” Gary insisted, his tone all kindness, and Mark raised his mug to his lips, but suddenly stopped half way and looked over at Jason enquiringly.
“How many sugars did you put in, Jay?” he asked and Jason laughed.
“Six,” he said, making Gary chuckle as their eyes met, matching knowing expressions on their faces.
“That’s probably just about enough,” Mark conceded with a cheeky grin.
Just as Jason took his first sip of tea, they heard the bell on the door. Jason found his tea was almost spilt all over his jeans before he’d managed to swallow so much as a mouthful; just inside the doorway stood Howard Donald, well-dressed in a close fitting, dark jumper and a chunky scarf, his handsome face framed by his dark curls, his blue eyes dazzling and curious. It was becoming an increasingly regular sight, but the more it happened the greater the effect it seemed to have over Jason, and this morning Howard had scrubbed up particularly well. Mark skimmed an approving eye over his outfit, wondering momentarily what the occasion could be, as Howard’s interest in being smart was usually outweighed by his preference for comfort. Then Mark glanced back to Jason.
“Try and keep a grip on your tea, Jay,” he murmured knowingly, and Jason shot him a half-hearted glare that only served to widen his grin.
“Morning Howard…we’re out of sugar I’m afraid, but you’re more than welcome to have a brew and a biscuit anyway,” Gary offered, ignoring Mark and Jason entirely.
“Jay’ll get you some sugar,” Mark remarked gleefully, a mischievous grin playing on his lips. Jason almost choked on his tea.
“Hot?” Gary asked him, raising his eyebrows suggestively, highly amused at Jason’s reaction.
“You’re both bastards, you know that?” Jason told them as he recovered himself, looking over to Howard apologetically. “They’re both bastards,” he reiterated in a half-amused, half-apologetic tone, and Howard smirked softly.
“Do I want to ask what you three are on about?” he questioned them, raising an eyebrow as he came over to join them by the stairs.
“Probably not. Just songwriting troubles,” Jason explained, giving Mark and Gary reprimanding looks at they sniggered quietly into their tea. “Mark swears he dreamt lyrical gold last night…but unfortunately sleep-recording is not an art form he’s perfected,” he clarified and Howard nodded.
“Not that I’ll be much use but…what’s the problem exactly?” he asked, and Mark noticed the way Howard’s eyes hardly left Jason. Jason himself was aware of Howard’s gentle gaze and he met it, narrowing his eyes at him slightly as though daring him to make a tease, and Howard smothered a smile, shrugging self-consciously.
“The problem is that we think we’ve struck magic but we can’t finish it off,” Gary interjected, looking between Jason and Howard knowingly and only just managing to not roll his eyes despairingly at them. “Honestly? Something’s missing. And the three of us can’t figure it out for the life of us,” he sighed, shaking his head. As he said the words, Jason and Howard quickly looked away from each other, both turning their eyes down shyly. The change in the air between them had become less noticeable over time, something both of them lived with and tried not to acknowledge out of a shared reluctance to tackle the danger of such an unknown force. But this time they both felt it acutely. Howard’s lips curled into a fond smile as he saw the look on Jason’s face, and he had to duck his head to avoid the other two men noticing. Nothing escaped Mark though.
“Maybe you’re the missing link,” he suggested, an impish smile on his face.
“Depends what you’re looking for,” Howard answered softly, risking a glance up just in time to catch Jason smiling quietly to himself, regarding Howard out of the corner of his eye.
“What’s missing is the punch of the song – you know, the bit where shivers go down your audience’s spine? The bit when the song just hits you. I know this song has potential but it’s just that final kick we need,” Gary explained, oblivious to the moment, and Mark groaned quietly.
“Oh Gaz,” he sighed, realising the spell was broken and was not likely to be re-cast any time soon.
“What?” Gary frowned as Mark patted his shoulder.
“Never mind, just show him the lyrics, go on!” he chided. Gary frowned, but he picked up his notebook obligingly, open already on the pages where Three Men And A Dusty Piano’s newest songwriting project had been drafted, redrafted and annotated to within an inch of its life. As Howard reached for the notebook, he and Jason looked at one another, knowing smiles on their lips, before Howard slowly turned his eyes down, flicking through the lyrics, notes and drafts in front of him. Being musically-minded, Howard found it easy to pick up the thread of what the three men were working towards, half-humming bits and pieces under his breath and smiling slightly at the hook of the chorus, his brain naturally able to adapt to imagine harmonies and intricacies that would fall into place when the song was performed.
“It’s beautiful,” he murmured, glancing up. “But…you’re calling this Rule The World? Surely that whole song is a soaring moment with a title like that?” he asked.
“You’d think. But no…here, listen. Lads, a capella. Even you, Jay,” Gary said, giving Jason a look that suggested shyness wasn’t going to be an option.
“Yeah, even you, Jay,” Mark teased, poking Jason gently. Jason pulled a face but still obliged. There was a certain level of comfort between himself and Howard now, and though he wasn’t the most confident singer of the three of them, he trusted Howard not to judge. They teased one another, but it was never serious. And Howard had nothing but admiration when it came to Jason’s interest in music – and Jason had quickly realised that that must mean something, because music, beats and harmonies were clearly Howard Donald’s greatest loves.
As the three men started to sing, Howard found he was mesmerized; the blend and tone of their three voices, the soft, tentative way they sang the words, humming the parts where the lyrics were unfinished, eyes on each other for timing, Gary’s warm, honeyed voice taking the lead and Mark’s rich, rough voice adding depth and emotion that gave the song a whole different sort of power that Howard could feel in his bones. And he couldn’t help but strain to catch Jason’s voice, lying perfectly just beneath the stronger voices of his friends, adding its own softness and sense of meaning, keeping the harmony strong where one had been mapped out. Slightly warm, a little rough. A lullaby voice. It was a strange sensation, listening to this rough draft of something magical unwind before him – he longed to join in, his ear for a harmony picking up on touches he could add and appreciating the details which his three friends had already come up with for themselves. But perhaps the most astonishing thing was that, as they trailed off, he could feel a thread of an idea start to form his mind. He understood; he knew what was missing. As the three trailed off into a loosely drafted ending, Gary pulled a face.
“That’s not the right ending that. You can’t finish it like that, not without a moment, a thing to hang the whole thing on before it’s over,” he grumbled, sipping his tea and shaking his head.
“I think it needs violins. You know, going crazy in the background – I think that would work. I don’t know what exactly we could do with it but I think it’s part of the solution. Well…if any of us could play violin…but I’m sure Gaz can do something with his keyboard that’ll sound just as good,” Mark put in, also letting out a huff of frustration. Jason looked up at Howard, studying his face. He took note of the furrow in his brow, the way his eyes were focused on the middle distance, and he was surprised to find that he knew exactly what that expression meant.
“You’ve thought of something, haven’t you,” he said softly, coaxingly, and Howard looked up at him, as though surprised to be addressed.
“Look, I’m no lyricist but…” he stopped and looked down again, pulling a face. “I dunno, but…I think…I think I’ve got an idea for your moment…” he said slowly, regarding the three men out of the corner of his eye, nervousness and shyness mingling in his face. Jason was the one who his eyes came to settle on, and Jason smiled quietly back at him, eyes alive with light and understanding. Howard couldn’t remember anyone ever looking at him that way before.
“Go for it,” Jason said softly. Howard smiled back at him slightly, straightening up a little and turning his eyes back to Mark and Gary, who were sitting watching the exchange with a mixture of curiosity and hope.
“Well…look, it’d have to be polished off a bit but…why don’t you just sing the violins…I mean, that sort of stepped, up and down you get with violins it’s…frenzied and ordered and big all at once, you know?” Howard ventured, hoping he didn’t sound mad. Gary and Mark frowned, but Jason smiled with instant recognition; there was always recognition with Jason.
“I get it,” he nodded slowly. “Like the stars, the sky. It’s something vast. And they’re all just up there shining. That’s the violins,” he explained, never once looking away from Howard.
“Exactly. And when you add that idea to the steps, the rhythm you get with strings in an orchestra…” Howard shrugged, and at that smiles began to spread across Gary and Mark’s faces, understanding dawning and bringing ideas with it.
“Hang on, hang on...ok....” Mark was nodding as he spoke, head bobbing as something in his brain clicked. “Like this, like this – listen: All the stars are coming out tonight,” Mark began to sing .
“They’re lighting up the sky tonight?” Jason put in, though he chose to speak the lyric, a look of concentration clouding his eyes. Gary shook his head in frustration.
“Not enough beats…we’re two off. Just two, what’s going to fit in there?!” he sighed.
“For you,” Howard said quietly. Jason’s eyes flickered open and he met Howard’s gaze. Neither man looked away this time. Mark looked between them with a knowing smile.
“I think we just found what we were missing,” he said, eyes aglitter, his mind no longer on the song at all.
***
They had sung and laughed and teased all morning. It was funny; they still didn’t have the record deal of their dreams, really nothing had changed at all. Jason still hadn’t asked Howard out. Even Mark and Gary were still oblivious to what was right under their noses. Really all they had done was finish a song – something they had done many times before, even with songs they’d struggled on. But they’d found something. Something more than just a potential new band member; it was that missing piece, that magic ingredient. Gary, Jason and Mark had been so happy, so content with their lives as they were. They’d all had their rough times; Gary had had his crisis of failure when no record labels wanted him, sending him back to the music shop he’d known as a child, Jason had had his crisis of indecision when he’d realised he hated his job and it had led him to Gary’s shop, and then Mark had had his crisis of faith in people when the bank kicked him out, leaving him busking on Oldham Street, just waiting for Gary’s eyes to find him. It had all turned out pretty well for them on the whole. Yet Howard’s arrival had still managed to change things, had managed to alter the chemistry of their little group – something none of them would’ve said could be a good thing if you’d asked them before it happened, and yet when it had come around, they’d let it change everything, because something inside all of them had somehow just known it was needed.
So here they were, celebrating on a Saturday morning in their shop, waiting for Howard and smiling like they were world famous already. Mark was teasing Gary relentlessly, enjoying the game of winding him up. Jason was just enjoying watching, although he couldn’t say he had much care for how slowly time passed without Howard. The three men were so distracted, however, that when the bell on the door finally did ring, not one of them heard it. But Howard had heard their laughter, so he ventured further in.
“Face it, Gaz, he can’t write. You can be nice, you can pretend, but at the end of the day – he’s nothing special,” Mark sighed over-dramatically, shaking his head so his hair fell haphazardly about his face.
“Oh come on, be nice,” Jason said in a half-hearted attempt at keeping the peace.
“Jay, be honest now…” Mark grinned, a devilish twinkle in his eyes. Jason laughed and shook his head before fixing Gary with his piercing gaze, eyebrows raised.
“His contribution to our sound? To be honest? Crap.” Gary pulled his most shocked face, waving an arm around in exasperation and making Mark have to bite back a laugh. “The last thing we need’s another ballad, mate, we’ve got them coming out our ears – don’t you think we need something a bit more meaningful than that?” Jason added, laughing as Mark giggled on his perch on the piano and Gary made noises of over the top outrage. And then they heard the squeak of the floorboards. They all turned to look, Mark letting out a small, urgent sound and Gary’s eyebrows raising as they caught sight of Howard Donald’s disappearing back.
“Shit – Jay, I think…” Gary began, turning back, but Jason was already on his feet.
“On it,” he stated, patting Gary’s shoulder as he passed him, heading after Howard. For a moment Mark and Gary stared after him, wondering what to do. It was Gary who broke the tension.
“I don’t care what you say, Elton John is a musical genius,” he huffed, setting Mark off into the giggles again.
“We were winding you up you twit! Although The Beatles are still better, you know. Now help me down from this piano so we can go and watch what happens next with How and Jay – I need to know!!” Mark grinned through his laughter.
It was pouring with rain outside but Howard still stopped when he heard Jason calling out his name. He was powerless; when that man said his name he was his and that was that. Why it was Howard didn’t question, but he accepted it as a fact and he stood stock still in the rain at Jason’s command. He could judge exactly where Jason was standing simply from the way the sound of the rain had changed pitch around them.
“Howard, we were winding Gaz up in there – I don’t know what you heard or what you thought it meant but, I promise you, it’s nothing to do with you. You’re the best thing that’s happened to this place since Mark started busking across the street,” Jason sighed, and Howard could feel his eyes on his back.
Swallowing down the tight knot of nerves that had formed in his throat, Howard slowly turned around, squinting against the rain and looking back at Jason intently. The rain water had flattened his brown hair to his head, and it was soaking through his clothes, but he didn’t even flinch in the cold. It was a sight that made Howard’s heart jump against his rib cage and a nervy half-smile formed, unbidden, on his lips as he shook his head slightly.
“No offence to Mark, but it’s not really his rejection I’m afraid of,” he admitted, his voice gentle but still strained as he tried to make himself heard over the rain. “To be honest…it’s not really Mark I’m waiting for at all,” he added, looking down. But he could still feel Jason’s eyes on him, and when he looked back up he was standing closer, eyes glinting even amidst the grey Manchester rain. Howard studied his face, studied the furrow of his brow and the anxiety that seemed to be playing at the edges of his expression. So often the two of them would look at each other and instantly know whatever thought it was playing on their minds, but this time Howard couldn’t be sure. He could see uncertainty there, fear even – but he could see more to it, could see Jason’s intensity in his eyes, the way he was so determined to meet Howard’s gaze and for Howard not to move. And he was defiant against whatever anxiety he felt, standing determinedly out there in the rain – it was enough to make Howard want to do the same.
“Howard.” He didn’t think he’d ever heard his name say so much, mean so much. But it did – the way Jason said it, the look in his eyes. A plea and a promise and a stubborn refusal all at once. “Look, I’m not…I can’t…” Jason stammered and Howard’s brow crinkled sadly.
“Jay, please don’t say what I think you’re going to,” he interrupted softly, and it made Jason wince, taking a step closer to Howard, his eyes earnest. He felt that sharp, sad note more than he felt the rain on his skin and he needed Howard to look at him, to understand him the way he had so many times before – only this time it really mattered
“Look…I…I’m kind of a mess, How, you know? I’m kind of a mess.” Jason’s eyes were intent upon Howard’s face as he spoke, even if his voice caught on the words. “I’m neurotic, I’m obsessive, I’m…I’m obtuse and ridiculous and I have so much history with so many…so many things and stories I’ve not had chance to tell you yet, ok? I’m just this huge, OCD disaster waiting to happen. I need therapy, not a relationship – no one should be in a relationship with me. But…especially not someone like you.” Howard flinched at that and but Jason stepped closer again, eyes pleading, and Howard found himself incapable of looking away, desperate to understand. “You are the kind of person I wish I could be sometimes, Howard, ok? You’re so many things and you do not deserve to have anyone around you who can’t handle that. You’ve just got this…you’ve got this genuine, rough-around-the-edges magic. And you’re a cocky bastard and you tell terrible jokes and you’re also shy and sweet and silly sometimes...and you are incredible, ok? You are incredible. And being around you is so easy sometimes and it…it makes me think that this could be alright.” Jason swallowed and looked away and Howard suddenly become overly aware of just where his heartbeat was in his chest. “But I know what I’m like. I know I’m not built that way and I know that…that if I told you even half of what goes through my head, half of what I have to do just to stay sane and make it through a day…it’d take that thing you have away. It’d drive you crazy, ok?” He looked back at Howard then. “So if you want to go then…I get that. Because I think you want to take a chance and…and I just don’t know if I can.” There was a lull then, the two of them listening to the sound of the rain and each other’s heavy breathing. Howard looked at Jason thoughtfully, wondering how on earth someone whose mind was so special could be so unaware of why that would be beautiful to someone like him. “I just want you to know that…whatever stupid mixed message it is you think I’m sending I just…I don’t want to bring you down and mess you about. You are such a good person, Howard Donald. Such a good person. And I would hate for you to never come by here again just because I’m an idiot. I just…you have to know that I could never, ever want to hurt you. Ever. You really are…really were…what was missing.” Jason let out a soft, sad laugh and Howard felt himself smile at the sound – oddly delighted by the catch in Jason’s breathing, strangely amazed by the look on his face, the concentration and earnestness there. Jason sniffed and looked up, wincing against the rain. “I just think a little bit of heartbreak now, while I’m still used to that missing piece being missing, is a lot easier than the pain there’d be the day you finally figured out that I’m crazy and it made you walk away. Because having someone understand you that way…and then having that taken away….it’s not something I’ve ever had before. And I think it’s more than I could actually take to have to know it and then lose it completely.” Jason’s speech poured out before he could stop it and he wasn’t sure how but he and Howard were suddenly standing very close, Howard’s fingertips close enough to brush against his own. He felt them there, felt them graze his knuckles, Howard’s eyes boring into him the whole time. He could feel the raindrops on Howard’s hands mix with the raindrops on his own and he looking into those blue eyes nervously, hopefully, suddenly aware that he was holding his breath.
“Show me,” Howard half-whispered at last, his forehead almost touching Jason’s now.
“Show you what?” Jason breathed, a frown just visible beneath the pounding rain.
“All of it. All the things you think I don’t see. Or you think I won’t like. Show me all of it. Every complexity, every fault, every flaw; because I’ve got news for you, Jason Orange – I want to see it. I want to know what makes someone like you. And I want to learn you and get cut by every broken edge over and over until I understand even more than I already do just by looking at you. Because I know you know I’m a mess too – and maybe it’s a different kind of disaster but…we’re both here. And neither one of us seems like we want to go anywhere. So I dare you. I dare you. There; I know then that you’ll have to stay here and kiss me because you can’t back down from a challenge. And I’m ready to stay here all day if it means you’ll kiss me.” Howard stared Jason down, took in the surprise as it changed into understanding again, the flicker of amusement dancing in his eyes, and something else which Howard didn’t dare hope was attraction. “I’m not scared of knowing you, Jay, because I think I already do. I know who you are enough to know that…there is no one I want to know more.” Howard shrugged. “Honestly, I think I’m just slowly falling into loving you, bit by bit, and whatever the challenge in that, whatever the stupidity? I’m too stubborn to care,” Howard said softly, resting his forehead against Jason’s, effectively closing what little gap was left between them. And as he looked up into Howard’s eyes, Jason knew he was right. He knew that Howard could let go of his hand right then and he wouldn’t move, too stubborn and intrigued to back down. All the mess in his head was irrelevant against the possibility that there was someone standing in front of him who really would just keep fighting for him, someone who actually might be just as stubborn as he was, someone who would stand in that rain with him all day if that was the challenge given to him.
“Howard,” he said softly. Howard’s eyes searched his face.
“Yeah?” Howard asked, nervously bringing his hand up to Jason’s face, the pad of his thumb grazing his cheek. Jason closed his eyes briefly, enjoying the sensation of Howard’s skin mingling with the rainwater.
“Challenge accepted,” he murmured, a playful smile dancing on his lips as he slowly opened his eyes and looked straight back into Howard’s. He smiled conspiratorially, quirking an eyebrow. “And if you want to know a secret? I think I might be falling slowly into loving you too,” he admitted softly, laughing at the grin that overtook Howard’s whole face and bringing his hands up to his cheeks. And finally they kissed, right there in the rain; Jason closing the gap and Howard pulling him closer the moment he tasted those lips on his own. And for once Jason’s mind was clear of all else but that moment: just Howard’s body pressed against his and the sound of the rain.
From the shop window Mark had watched them, trying and failing to read their lips but finding their body language gave away more clues than any words could. As they finally came together, Mark’s whole face lit up with a smile, excitement and happiness bubbling up, his wide eyes sparkling with equal parts mischief (because Jason was in for so many ‘I told you so’ teases when he got back inside) but also genuine happiness for his friends and for the possibilities for all four of them if Howard was going to be staying around. But for some reason that wasn’t actually what made Mark smile the most.
“What’s happening out there?” Gary asked, appearing at Mark’s side.
“Romance,” Mark stated simply, glancing wistfully at Gary. And there it was. The thought making him smile most: Gary Barlow.
“Looks like it’s going to be Four Men And A Dusty Piano then, eh?” Gary chuckled, glancing at Mark. Mark looked at him with glittering eyes, searching Gary’s face for…something. And after a beat, with his heart in his throat, Mark reached across and pressed a lingering kiss to Gary’s lips. He wasn’t sure if it lasted a minute or a second, but the butterflies were overwhelming and he had to work hard to steady his breath when he finally stood back to search Gary’s face once more. And as he looked, Gary simply smiled quietly – everything Mark needed to know lingered in the silence and for once in his life, just a silence was enough for him.
“Brew?” Gary asked, his gaze honest and unwavering. Mark chuckled fondly.
“Sounds gorgeous,” he agreed with a nod.
It was a cold winter’s morning. A little bell on the door jangled and Howard’s daughter – as eager to explore as he was – shot quickly from his side to look around. The shop was bigger than it looked from the outside, all manner of musical instruments and sheet music crammed together on every surface, clustering in every corner on the main shopfloor. Beyond a small doorway at the back of the space was a backroom that seemed to be filled with pianos, whilst a sign pinned up on the staircase indicated that the records could be found upstairs. Two men sat on the staircase, steaming mugs in their hands and surprised looks on their faces. One of them had ash-blonde hair, a slightly world-weary, though kindly, face and bold, blue-green eyes. His dark eyebrows were raised high, but there was a peculiarly homely charm about him, just visible behind his startled expression. The other man was smaller and slighter, his light brown hair longer and fluffier, artfully mussed into a style which probably took longer than you might expect to achieve. His round eyes were starry and twinkling, smile lines the only creases on his cherubic, innocent face. Both men were smartly dressed, though the blonde looked slightly less polished, admittedly, and to Howard’s amusement he noticed that the little one, though effortlessly stylish in every other was, was kitted out with substantially stacked heels. By the looks on their faces Howard supposed they weren’t too used to customers. The blonde one grunted a greeting of some sort, casting an almost protective glance towards the pianos as Howard’s daughter hurried off to inspect them. Howard nodded back and the smaller of the two men shot him a dazzling grin as he paused from blowing on his tea.
“Shout me if you want a brew,” he smiled, wide eyes sparkling. Howard had never been in a shop that offered him a cuppa before and that thought alone made him smile. He thanked the man with another nod before wandering into the side room.
There was a peace in this strange little shop that seemed to stem from more than just its stillness, and the floorboards creaked welcomingly as he stepped through the archway. In the next room he found shelves filled with songbooks and sheet music; everything from hymns to the Top 40 was crammed on the dust-laden shelves, which seemed haphazard and yet, somehow, Howard could detect that there was an order imposed on the disarray. A secret order that few understood, perhaps, but Howard could tell it was there. Glancing around he spotted that he was not alone: in the corner of the room, perching cross-legged up on the shop’s counter, was a man - a quietly handsome man, mug of tea in one hand and his nose buried in a book. The man captured Howard even more than the shop and he found himself staring. He supposed he shouldn’t, it was rude and a little odd to stare so hard at someone without knowing them, without them even realising, and he couldn’t really explain why he did. But he did stare and he couldn’t help it. He seemed strangely familiar somehow, as though he'd seen him from a distance a long time ago and committed him to his memory. The man had dark hair, though a shaft of sunlight that fell across him streaked it a lighter shade of brown in places, and it fell in half-waves and sweeps about his pleasingly angular face. His jawline was pronounced, his lashes long, blue eyes bright despite being downturned. He was lean - thin even - but with broad shoulders and strong arms and he held himself with a natural grace and ease that was undeniably captivating. He was good looking in that classic sense that surprisingly few people were, but strangely that wasn't what held Howard's attention the most. It was more than that: there was just something about him. He seemed elegant, proud somehow, and there was a thoughtful incline to his head as he studied his book. Lost in thought, his brow was knitted ever so slightly and his eyes shone, and silently Howard took in the calm scratch of stubble that grazed his jawline and the way the man's fingers moved – restless and rhythmic – against his mug. He was still but constantly moving and Howard couldn't help feeling fascinated by that contradiction.
“Morning…” he said awkwardly at last, finding himself inexplicably desperate for the man’s attention. And when the man slowly looked up from his book, Howard felt a dazed smile touch his lips, a knot forming somewhere in his chest as those blue eyes fixed on him. The man's smile was soft and he took a sip of his tea, his book falling idly into his lap as he looked over at Howard, his head on one side.
“Mornin’,” he said quietly, setting his tea down on the counter. His smile widened almost mischievously, and for a moment Howard wondered if he knew every thought that had been running through his head in those moments of silence which had passed between the two of them. Then the man shrugged casually and the spell was broken. “Let me know if you need any help,” he said, blue eyes still unwaveringly piercing and bright amidst the shop’s dim warmth. His smile lit up the space between them – as quiet as it was – and Howard could almost see the particles of dust it disturbed, could almost feel them tickling his skin. Wrenching his feet from the spot, he slowly walked across to a bookcase, pretending to browse, still stealing glances at the man, who for his part had set his book down and was leaning back on his hands, watching Howard with an unreadable expression on his face.
“This your shop then?” Howard asked after a beat, looking back over his shoulder at the man and hoping he sounded casual enough.
“Nah, Gaz’s…he’s the grumpy one out front,” the man grinned mischievously and Howard couldn’t prevent his chuckle. The man’s eyes scanned him briefly and they stayed that way for a second or two, each watching the other, before the man finally looked down and smothered his smile, picking up his book once more, effectively forcing Howard to draw his eyes back to the shelves.
Silence passed unbroken for several minutes as Howard ran an idle hand over a row of songbooks until, eventually, the sound of footsteps caused both men to look up. Howard’s daughter bounded up to him, babbling about something that Howard couldn’t quite follow. He was aware of the man’s blue eyes watching them with a natural curiosity, and he felt the urge to explain – perhaps he was just happy of the excuse to talk to the man again.
“My daughter,” he said softly, with one of those small, apologetic smiles that all parents knew well. He glanced up at the man and was surprised to find their eyes meeting immediately. The man inclined his head.
“She’s a sweetie,” he said, his voice kind and rough.
“When she wants to be,” Howard joked gently in reply and he felt stupidly happy when the man rewarded him with a soft chuckle.
“I think my mum used to say something similar about me,” he said, lips quirked in a wry, rueful smile and his eyes glittering with a shy sort of mischief that Howard found enchanting. Noticing her father’s unusually sappy grin, Grace stopped her babbling mid-sentence and looked between the two of them with wide-eyed curiosity before she quickly grew bored of their staring and started talking again. Howard nodded placatingly at his daughter as she talked, but secretly he still snatched glances at the man over Grace's shoulder, even as he crouched down to be on his daughter’s level. He was pleasantly surprised to realise that this time the man had not returned to his book, and was instead still watching them thoughtfully, head still on one side.
“Did I hear you say Gaz let you near one of his pianos?” the man interjected after a while, bringing Grace and Howard’s eyes to him once more.
“Why?” Howard frowned, standing up. The man simply shrugged, an amused smile on his lips, his eyes now dancing in a way that even held Grace’s attention. The man waggled his eyebrows and his eyes flashed at Howard in a ‘You’ll See’ way as he leant back.
“Mark?” he called out, eyes staying on Howard even as a head popped around the corner. Reluctant as he was to look away, Howard turned when he saw the movement and was greeted once more by two round, sparkling blue-grey eyes; the smaller man from the shop's stairs was smiling dazzlingly as his gaze swept over all the occupants of the room before coming to settle on the man who had summoned him.
“What can I do for ya?” Mark asked brightly, giving a polite little nod to Howard and flashing a wink at Grace.
“Can you remember when the last time Gaz let a customer touch one of the pianos was?” the man asked him, his tone half-serious but a definite trace of laughter just detectable at the edges. Mark’s grin widened and he made a show of putting thought to the question, one eyebrow quirked, one eye closed, his finger tapping his lips.
“Oo…um, some time in the late 90s maybe?” he suggested after a beat and the man nodded to say his point had been proven.
“Lucky girl,” he winked at Grace as Mark winked too, chuckling softly even as he disappeared back into the front room. Grace was now beaming up at the man broadly, her smile shyly excited as she revelled in having his full attention focused on her. It was Howard’s turn to glance from person to person, smiling fondly at both.
The moment was broken by the chime of his phone from his pocket, and Howard winced, pulling the phone out and glancing at the time with a grimace - the chime was his ten minute warning to get himself and Grace to a family gathering on time, and despite his usually off-kilter time keeping being an accepted trait by his family under normal circumstances, today he'd made a promise and plans had been set firm around it.
“We have to get going, Gracie,’ he sighed, ruffling her hair when she pouted up at him and let out a string of huffy protests. Howard offered her an apologetic, lopsided smile before looking back up to find the man was watching him again. ‘It was nice to meet you…” Howard trailed off, realising he didn’t know the man’s name, and the man laughed softly, his expression wry and yet oddly fond.
“Jason Orange,” he offered, and then, after a small pause, he folded his arms and met Howard’s eyes. “But if you tell me your name then I’ll let you call me Jay,” he added, eyes glittering playfully. Howard felt a small, shy laugh escape him, though how it happened he couldn’t’ be sure, because his breath had definitely hitched in his throat. Was that…flirtation? Or just the man’s natural charm? He smiled back at him softly and nodded, meeting his eyes to accept the half-challenge he had been offered.
“Howard Donald,” he said, with what he hoped a mischievous grin. “And you can call me what you like,” he said, waggling his eyebrows. He felt an absurd amount of pride when Jason laughed – a small, honest laugh – and met his eyes. The effect was joyous.
“I’ll hold you to that,” Jason shot back with a smirk, a definite glint in those piercing eyes as he looked Howard up and down. And in that moment it became clear to Howard what his fascination with this shop was, or at least, what it had become. Jason’s lips pursed slightly, suppressing a smile, and Howard nodded vaguely before turning away. He just managed not to shoot ‘I hope you do’ over his shoulder as he left.
***
In the years since splitting up with Grace’s mother, Howard had rarely indulged in any serious, long-term romances, though it had been known for him to become more involved than he meant to without really realising it was happening. Grace – as young as she was – had done her fair share of damage too, but Howard wasn’t one to shy away from the fact most of his problems with romance were his fault. And in any case, relationships just weren’t as important to him as they seemed to be to other people; in his view he had a job which was awkward but brilliant, and a daughter he adored, and he had not met one person who shone brightly enough to matter in comparison. But his past disinterest in romance could, he was starting to realise, have simply been because he’d never met anyone like Jason Orange before. Walking into Barlow’s Music Shop had turned Howard’s whole world view upside-down; it wasn’t love at first sight, truth be told Howard didn’t really know what it was, but he had felt something that afternoon that had felt so different to any other feeling in his life, something he hadn’t needed before he’d felt it but was now unable to stop turning over in his head. He wanted to chase it, wanted more of it, wanted to understand it and know it and feel it again, but more of it. Because Howard was sure he had glimpsed something in Jason Orange’s eyes – a flash of something which could just get brighter, given due attention. Something in the dusty little shop had shifted the air around him, made it taste different and strange. He didn’t know much about Jason, but he wanted to – and what he did know intrigued him, captured his thoughts for no reason in the middle of the night and played on his mind, the image of that thoughtful expression and those twinkling eyes too intense and too interesting to set aside. Of course, Jason had only met him once, and Howard had no idea if that flash of mischief between the two of them had been anything more or less than his normal charm – as much as he felt it had been special, significant, he didn’t know Jason well enough to judge. And in any case, all the man knew about Howard was his name and that he had a daughter. Neither of those facts seemed to scream romantic interest, Howard supposed. But he wasn’t sure what would, or if it even mattered in any case; scruffy Howard Donald with his terrible jokes, his dark, matted curls and appalling timekeeping didn’t really seem to belong with the quietly charming, nose-in-a-book Jason Orange. This man was beautiful and thoughtful and mischievous and, whatever flaws he might be hiding behind that handsome face, Howard was sure he was still a long way out of his league. And yet, no matter how many times he went over that argument in his head, he still couldn’t shake the hope that Jason had also noticed the way the air seemed to change around the two of them when they talked. The way that there seemed to be static crackling just behind their every exchange. Howard thought he looked like a man who would notice things, after all.
It became clear to Howard that he was falling – hopelessly falling into something or other he didn’t quite understand. But there was absolutely nothing he could do. And for all the back and forth in his head, he knew, deep down, that a part of him had already decided to just stop struggling and let himself fall. He had to go back to the shop – as ridiculous as he knew it was, he also couldn’t help but feel that he had nothing to lose. If nothing else, he thought he could probably find friends in Barlow’s Music Shop.
Howard returned to the shop exactly one week after his first visit, trying to ignore the way that faint memories of those blue eyes still lapped at the back of his mind. As the shop’s bell jangled, he glanced around, taking in the strangely familiar way the place glowed a warm amber and the sound of the creaking floorboards beneath his feet. The blonde man whom Jason had indicated to be the owner was stood in the back room, a hand resting on a piano, eyes glancing with mild interest at the door. Howard gave him a nod, looking around for any sign of Mark, but the cheerful man was nowhere to be seen. So, taking a deep breath, Howard walked into the side room. And there he was: leaning idly against the shop’s counter, a guitar balanced against his leg as he strummed softly, a delicate tune that Howard allowed himself to be enchanted by. Jason seemed to have a connection to music; the way he surrounded himself with it and fell into it, was infinitely appealing to Howard. The way he leant into the rhythm and melody, the constant movement that existed in him. Howard didn’t know anyone like that, even his friends who did love music didn’t seem to live it that way. And yet here was someone who did; someone who understood, someone who might not laugh at him when he climbed inside his own head as he listened to a really good song. It was significant to Howard.
As Jason finished, Howard came further into the room, his heart constricting at the gentle smile of recognition that graced Jason’s thin lips.
“Hello again, Howard Donald.” The air shifted again and again something tickled Howard’s skin as their eyes met. “I still haven’t decided what I’m going to call you yet, but that seems like a good start,” Jason added with a smirk and Howard felt his normally shy heart beat a little louder, as if it too recognized Jason. His lips quirked up at the corners.
“Most people just call me Tosser, so Howard Donald is a definite step up,” he grinned and Jason chuckled, the sound soft and low. Howard nodded his head towards the guitar then. “That tune was beautiful…did you write it?” he asked.
“No…no it’s one of Gaz’s. Mark helped I think. Me? I’m more of a lyricist. At best. Worrier at worst,” Jason replied modestly, his fingers still resting on the frets, a look of contemplation still light on his face.
“Still beautiful,” Howard said, eyes no longer on the guitar but instead set firmly on the man holding it. Jason’s gaze came up once more and their eyes were allowed to meet again, but both men seemed to realise this was dangerous and quietly looked away before the air between them became too thin and left them dizzy.
“Thank you,” Jason murmured at last.
The moment was broken by a series of loud thuds on the staircase in the front room, which were polished off with a clatter and bump. Howard and Jason both jumped slightly at the eruption of noise, looking up and turning towards the racket.
“Mark! Would you mind not throwing the biscuits around!” A gently reprimanding tease was evident in Gary’s voice as he bellowed.
“There’s biscuit all over my hat now!” was Mark's grumbled response, and there was a sound which Howard assumed to be Gary heaving him back onto his feet. Howard turned back around and his and Jason’s eyes met once more, causing them both to chuckle, Jason shrugging slightly and rolling his eyes.
“Mates, eh, who’d have ‘em?” he joked faintly and Howard grinned.
“Oh, they seem alright. They seem fun, actually,’ he said, then pulled a face. “Well…Mark does,” he added teasingly and Jason laughed.
“Gaz is alright, I promise…his bark is worse than his bite. Once he’s had a couple of McVities then you probably won’t find a better mate,” he said, eyes smiling back at Howard warmly. “And anyway, anyone can look grumpy next to Mark.”
“You’re saying that, Orange, but do you mind me asking what Gary’s like when he hasn’t had a couple of McVities?” Howard smiled and Jason raised an eyebrow, entertained at the challenge and just about managing to smother his grin.
“Are you calling me a liar?” he shot back quickly and Howard shrugged in a show of being casual, his ice-blue eyes glittering and playful.
“I’m calling you a charmer, and I bet I’m not the first,” he remarked and Jason folded his arms, trying to hide his smile as he shook his head.
“Maybe. Or maybe you should be careful what you say.”
“You’re a smiler, Orange. And I’m onto you,” Howard grinned back, making Jason laugh.
“Yeah? Well good luck trying to figure me out,” he countered gently and Howard’s smile softened.
“I like a challenge,” he replied quietly. Something had shifted in the air again, only this time it served to make both men look up, each meeting the other’s gaze. It was Jason who looked away first, Howard finding himself feeling unusually bold in the face of Jason’s challenges. He liked the game.
“They write music then?” Howard questioned after a moment, eager to keep Jason talking for as long as he could. He needed an excuse to just look at him, to study the way his face would crease into a new arrangement for every thought that crossed his mind.
“We all play at it…Gaz always wanted to make it, you know? Always wanted to have his name on the cover of an album or a songbook, preferably both. Life’s crap to nice blokes sometimes though, I guess. So here he is. But…we’re happy being Three Men And A Dusty Piano; our sort-of band. Mark’s idea, that name – me and Gaz didn’t have the heart to tell him what a mouthful it is.” Jason smiled fondly and rolled his eyes in a show of exasperation that didn’t convince. “Still, sometimes I can’t help but feel like something’s missing…” he said after a moment, his voice a half-whisper as he glanced up once more, regarding Howard thoughtfully. Howard’s cheeks felt warm under the scrutiny of his gaze, but at the same time, he liked it, didn’t want that feeling to subside or that scrutiny to go away. A part of him couldn’t help entertaining the idea that Jason thought Howard to be the missing piece.
“So how did you all end up working here then?” Howard said, having to force his voice to work, blinking slightly and swallowing hard before finally turning his eyes away from Jason’s and looking around the shop with a curious frown.
“We don’t – well, not all of us. Mark doesn’t really work here…practically live here, maybe, but we certainly don’t pay him. He’s just good to have around the place. He’s incurably nice that man. He makes us tea and chats at us all morning, then in the afternoon he heads off to his job in the caff up the road – dispensing muffins and fashion advice to anyone who’ll listen. He used to work in a bank but they fired him for making too much small talk with the customers,” Jason grinned fondly, the very mention of Mark enough to raise a smile, and Howard smiled too, finding it all too easy to imagine Mark talking the ears off every person he met.
“What about you and Gaz?” he asked, conscious of his questioning but still determined to know as much about this man as possible before letting himself pay attention to the sparks each of them was throwing into the air for the other to catch.
“Gaz just loves music…when he never got the break he needed, he bought this place. Off the bloke who sold him his first ever piano, actually. And as for me? Well…Gaz and me found friendship at an audition. I was a dancer, he was a singer…we weren’t picked for the group in the end but we stayed in touch. I used to be a painter-decorator for a while; I've got a twin brother and it was our sort-of double act for as long as we could stand working together. It was never supposed to be permanent though, so we both moved on in the end. But I’ve been around, done odd jobs, always used to dance on the side - did a few professional jobs here and there but I didn't stick with it in the end.”
“Did you dance around Manchester then? Like breakdance, with a crew and everything?”
“I was part of Street Machine,” Jason confessed, his voice soft and modest but an undeniably proud little grin touching his lips and widening as he noticed a spark of recognition come alive in Howard’s eyes. “You danced too, right?” he asked then, surprise and respect mingling in his tone, and Howard chuckled.
“I dabbled. I was never as good as any of your lot though.” He shook his head slightly. “So it was you…you jammy, talented bastard.” The tease was out before he could stop it, but to his great relief it only made Jason’s smile widen, and he shrugged earnestly in reply. “So come on – what changed? You could’ve taken that somewhere, you know. I remember your crew. I remember the best guys; you all had a shot. And you – you were the one who got all the jobs. I knew that much, even if I didn’t know your name.”
“I don’t know. Maybe I could’ve stuck with it – I loved it. Still do. Life got in the way I guess,” Jason said, glancing down and shrugging. Howard suspected there was a story there but he didn’t know the man well enough to push so he simply nodded understandingly. Jason glanced up at him with a rueful smile. “After that I travelled, went back to college for a bit, used up most of my savings. And after that was over I just felt like I wanted something…different. And Gaz had just got this place and needed help here so…here I am,” Jason explained slowly, gesturing a hand around the dusty bookshelves. Howard smiled, nodding slowly.
“Here you are,” he echoed, his eyes on Jason rather than the dusty shop, and Jason glanced across at him, their eyes meeting immediately and sending a shiver down Howard’s spine.
“Biccy, Jay?” a voice interrupted and Howard swallowed his disappointment, looking down at his shoes. “Oh ‘ello again!” Mark beamed, leaning against the archway, all sunshine and colour. “Mark Owen, at your service - biccy?” he offered, waving a biscuit tin in Howard’s direction, mischief in his eyes.
“Mark will you give me back those biscuits!” grumbled a voice in the background before Howard could respond, and Gary immediately appeared behind Mark in the archway.
“Not ‘til I get my hat back – crumb-free please!” Mark countered, still holding out the biscuit tin to Howard and Jason. Gary sighed and rolled his eyes, his affectionate smile betraying his lack of annoyance as he removed the hat from his head and pushed it onto Mark’s before swiftly plucking the biscuit tin from Mark’s hand and turning to smile at Howard.
“Back again?” he asked Howard, and Howard suddenly became very aware of his lack of excuse to be here. He could tell them Jason had put him under some incurable spell, but that would not come across as smooth or natural – though he suspected it wouldn’t be the first time such a thing had happened.
“Yeah…you know, I er…I like my music. Not many places round here I get to get lost in it. Anyway, my daughter’s with her mum, leaving me with a serious boredom problem before work tonight,” Howard explained stiltedly, casting a longing glance at Jason. Only Mark noticed and he looked between Jason and Howard with intrigue.
“Well you’re in the right place for music, mate. Just, please don’t buy any of my pianos,” Gary put in, casting a glance over his shoulder as if the pianos may be in danger without him near.
“Born salesman our Gaz,” Jason said playfully and Mark chuckled.
“At least Barlow talks to the customers,” he pointed out, sticking his tongue out at Jason.
“And this is your business how, Marko? You don't even work here. Anyway, I’m talking to Howard aren’t I?” Jason protested, receiving a knowing look from Mark.
“Yeah, you are – funny that,” the smaller man commented, eyes scrutinizing Jason. Howard saw the way Jason narrowed his eyes at Mark and he couldn’t help the bubble of pleasure and pride at just how much of an effect he seemed to have on Jason, unable to deny the thrill of excitement that went through him at seeing some sign that he wasn’t the only one who saw the sparks in the air every time they shot their teases back and forth at each other. He tried his best to swallow it, hoping he could get away before Mark’s scrutiny turned on him and the game was well and truly given away.
“Actually, I’d best be going,’ he said, forcing his voice to work. “I’m meeting someone about a DJ gig in half an hour. But I’ll stop by again sometime maybe, as long as you don’t mind me cluttering up the place,” he said with a rueful smile, unable to stop himself glancing at Jason as he spoke. And Jason’s eyes met his with a silent smile that Howard retuned, not caring any more if Mark Owen was looking between the two of them and grinning – which, in fact, he was.
Howard was reluctant to move but he finally managed to step away, giving the three men a little nod of goodbye before grudgingly heading towards the exit. Jason seemed equally disappointed to see him leaving and that, at least, gave Howard a little comfort.
“See ya, Howard, come back any time,” Mark called, longing to play matchmaker, and Howard glanced over his shoulder with a smirk. He glanced one last time at Jason, and found, to his amusement, that he was smirking too. He rolled his eyes at Mark in fond exasperation and Howard chuckled.
“Don’t be a stranger,” Jason told him with a smile and Howard couldn’t stop himself from grinning as he finally left the shop.
***
Jason stood in the doorway to the piano room, leaning idly on the doorframe as he watched his two best friends bicker. The slight frame of Mark Owen was draped across the top of Gary’s favourite baby grand piano in a pose which would have been seductive if Mark’s teasing hadn’t been so childish. His soft brown hair flopped down as he lay on his back, head tipped far enough behind him so he could still see Gary’s disgruntled expression. Part of his fringe fell with a swish across the keys, tickling Gary’s fingers. Gary shot him a withering look from his place at the piano stool, but Mark simply grinned back at him, popping another Jelly Baby into his mouth and rolling onto his stomach with a giggle, hair now falling in his eyes.
“Relax, Barlow, I’m giving her a polish!” he smiled sweetly.
“You’re smudging her,” Gary said with a jokey pout, his temper thwarted easily by Mark’s grin. Mark grabbed another Jelly Baby and Gary whipped it out of his hand mischievously, eating it swiftly and waggling his eyebrows at Mark in a show of victory.
“Jelly Fiend!” Mark gasped over-dramatically.
“Concentrate, Owen, we’re trying to be serious musicians here!” Gary reprimanded and Mark simply pulled a face at him before spotting Jason out of the corner of his eye.
“'Ello, Jay!” Mark exclaimed, deciding to ignore Gary.
“Eh up, Marko, he’s got his serious face on,” Gary warned, glancing over his shoulder at Jason and chuckling, shaking his head, but Mark waved a dismissive hand at him.
“What’s wrong, Jay?” he asked, his voice rough and genuine, coaxing a small smile out of Jason.
“Nothing much, Markie, I’m just tired,’ he said, stifling a yawn before pushing himself up from the door frame and stepping down into the back room.
Mark watched Jason cross the room and slide down into the chair in the corner before propping himself up on his elbows and flashing him a playful grin. When Jason caught the look his lips twisted into a wry, defeated smirk as he guessed what was coming next.
“Finished chatting to lover boy?” Mark asked, narrowing his eyes at Jason. It had been a little over a month since Howard’s visits to the shop had become commonplace and a little under a month since Mark had made it his mission to pair Howard up with his friend. Jason had grown used to the teasing – and he was pretty sure Howard wasn’t as blind to it as he pretended to be – but his cautious nature refused to let him allow himself to be carried away with his and Howard’s easy banter the way Mark seemed to have been. He rested his head back and sighed.
“If you mean ‘has Howard left?’ then yes, he has. Now can we drop it?” he asked and Mark rolled his eyes.
“Oh come on, Jay, he definitely fancies you! Do you not see the way he looks at you? The way he has looked at you since day one? Come on, he’s practically undressing you with his eyes now. And don’t even get me started on the way you look at him,” Mark retorted.
“Eh! None of that in my shop thank you!” Gary protested.
“Oh, Barlow, you’re such a prude!” Mark joked, giving Gary a playful smack on the head and making Jason laugh despite himself.
“You can put away your bow and arrow, Cupid, it’s not happening,” he sighed after a beat.
“Oh come on, Jay!” Mark shot back, fixing him with that dazzling, sweet smile of his, round eyes wide and bright. “Come on, live a little! Do you ever take a risk on anything?! We both know you want to kiss him – so just kiss him!” Mark said, animated frustration dancing across his expressive features.
“Just not in front of the customers…what little stuff we do sell in here will never get shifted unless you are fully available to blind them with your charm,” Gary injected, only half-joking. “They need to believe the illusion – not see it shattered when they find out you’re not actually in love with them,” he added teasingly, and Jason rolled his eyes at him, his smile affectionate even as he folded his arms in defiance.
“I know the rules, Gaz; no in-store relationships distracting me from the charm offensive - I am fully available for the flirt-for-the-sell, no worries,” he joked, batting his eyelashes playfully before shaking his head.
“Hey, if it works it works!” Gary chuckled with a shrug. It was Mark’s turn to roll his eyes.
“Jay, I’m being serious!! What if he’s the one? You two are so funny when you get bickering, always challenging each other with your eyes and one-upping each other. Sometimes the two of you just start laughing before the sentences are even finished – and Howard’s got this funny little schoolboy-shy laugh when you get to him, have you noticed? It’s only you can get that out of him, Jay. And it’s not like you can be shallow and say you don’t fancy him, because he’s gorgeous and you know it,” Mark argued. Jason turned his eyes down, twisting his lips to stop himself smiling.
“Is he? Gorgeous? Really?” Gary frowned.
“How have you not noticed?” Mark asked him, incredulous.
“Gaz only has eyes for one man, Markie,” Jason muttered under his breath, but the other two hadn’t heard him. Mark was sitting up now, legs dangling over the edge of the piano.
“Howard’s got that handsome-rugged thing going on, and you know that’s really in fashion right now. And he’s all tall and muscly. And he has the most incredible eyes – not that you’d be able to know because they’re never on anyone but Jay, though,” Mark reeled off, swinging his legs cheerfully and glancing at Jason with a smirk. Gary simply frowned and shook his head, also looking over at Jason with his eyebrows quirked.
“The man has a point, Jay,” he said and Jason laughed softly, still avoiding his friends’ eyes and choosing instead to stare at the arm of the chair, picking at a mark on it determinedly. “Come on, mate, you two would match up pretty well. How many people are there that similar to you and that different at the same time? It’s got to work!” Gary pressed. “At least ask him out…I think he’s too shy to ask you first,” he added, and Mark nodded in agreement.
“I think he’s shyer than you expect at first – but you got past that right away, you know that for sure. That has to mean something, Jay,” he concluded, and Jason finally looked up at him, brow knotted in thought.
For a drawn out moment Jason stared back at his two friends as they looked at him expectantly, before he finally let out a heavy sigh, rubbing his hand over his face.
“It’s not that simple though is it. You know what I’m like; I over-think and I worry and…I just have so many things that someone would have to get past to go out with me in any serious way. I have walls, you know? And issues. I spend whole nights wide awake just thinking about everything...I worry about stupid things. And I overthink things and I work myself into stupid corners. I obsess about details, I can’t get to the end of a sentence half the time without going off onto some tangent. Sometimes I worry so much about what I’m eating that I actually eat my muesli dry – and I know that’s not normal because my brothers actually wince if they happen to be there when I do it,” he explained, flashing a wry smile before looking down and biting his lip.
“Well that bit I have to agree with – it’s got to be Coco Pops. Or something with sugar,” Gary nodded sagely, and Jason smiled at him, grateful for the humour. Mark shook his head with mild exasperation.
“Jay, don’t take this the wrong way, but that's what we love about you, you know? You’re a bit…wrong. I mean…you’re not perfect. It makes you interesting. And you’re a good mate because of it. You know, it’s that old cliché; every imperfection is what makes you just right. I think Howard would get that too,” he said softly.
“Trust me, lads, ok? I’m just…way too complicated, especially for someone like Howard. He likes the simple life. You know I’m neurotic at the best of times; can you imagine trying to break through all of that? It’s why I’m single; it’s just easier for everyone. Nothing with me is ever simple…I even drive myself to distraction. I’m a borderline insomniac, I’m slightly schizophrenic and to top it off I’m just oh-so-slightly OCD…just a little out of reach all the time. And that’s fine, I’m ok with that, as long as I don’t have to try and deal with anyone who wants to try and change it,” Jay let out, frustrated now.
“That’d make a good lyric that,” Gary mused aloud and Mark gave him a small kick.
“Natural lyricist, yes. Boyfriend? Not so much,” Jason said, finding humour in his frustration and making Gary chuckle. But Mark just watched him quietly.
“I think you might be surprised, Jay. And I’m not too sure Howard wants to change you much at all either,” he said at last, fishing out another Jelly Baby and smiling brightly.
“That’s coz you’re an eternal optimist,” Jason reminded him. Mark shrugged, dropping his Jelly Baby as he did so.
“It’s a good way to be sometimes,” he remarked.
“You’re getting powder on her!” Gary warned, pointing at the abandoned Jelly Baby before placing a protective hand on his piano. Jason smothered a laugh.
“No, I’m dusting her! Remember the good old days when she actually was a dusty piano?” Mark attempted, picking up the Jelly Baby and popping it into his mouth cheekily.
“He’s still glaring, mate,” Jason said with amusement.
“You love me really,” Mark assured him, something sweet in his soft Rs that couldn’t be fought with, and Gary sat mute as Mark flopped back onto his stomach, stretching across to give him a kiss on his cheek. As he pulled back he wrinkled his nose slightly.
“What?” Gary questioned, mildly affronted.
“We need to get you some new aftershave,” Mark replied and Jason laughed as Gary swotted the smaller man jokingly.
The three men looked around at the sound of the bell on the door. Jason yawned and rubbed at a crick in his neck, pushing himself out of his chair.
“Looks like I’m on back on charm duty,” he noted, stretching and heading into the front room. Gary nodded as if in agreement, slapping a hand on his thigh and standing up.
“Time for a brew I think,” he stated and he too left the room for the tiny kitchenette at the very back of the shop. Mark stayed put a moment, then slowly a frown began to fill his face.
“Um…lads, can you help me down from the piano?!” he called out, sitting up. No reply came so he sighed softly and popped one more Jelly Baby into his mouth, quietly pondering. He wasn’t sure if it was the Jelly Babies, but Gary Barlow actually tasted quiet nice.
***
The small staircase creaked as Jason joined Mark and Gary, handing them each a mug before sitting down on the steps beside them. There was a small smile on his lips as he watched his friends, their brows furrowed in matching looks of concern mixed in with concentration and disappointment as they tried to listen in to a voice memo on Mark’s phone. Eventually Mark sighed and looked at Gary sadly, putting his phone back into the pocket of his jeans.
“I swear it was gold, you know? But I was half-asleep at the time,” said, pulling a face. Gary chuckled and took a sip of his tea, exchanging a knowing glance with Jason, eyes twinkling.
“Cheer up, Marko, it’s not your fault,” he said, giving Mark a gentle nudge with his shoulder.
“Oh, I know…I just feel like we’ve been stuck on this for weeks. Now it might never work,” Mark huffed, staring down into his tea grumpily.
“Come on, drink up, who knows – it might inspire us!” Gary insisted, his tone all kindness, and Mark raised his mug to his lips, but suddenly stopped half way and looked over at Jason enquiringly.
“How many sugars did you put in, Jay?” he asked and Jason laughed.
“Six,” he said, making Gary chuckle as their eyes met, matching knowing expressions on their faces.
“That’s probably just about enough,” Mark conceded with a cheeky grin.
Just as Jason took his first sip of tea, they heard the bell on the door. Jason found his tea was almost spilt all over his jeans before he’d managed to swallow so much as a mouthful; just inside the doorway stood Howard Donald, well-dressed in a close fitting, dark jumper and a chunky scarf, his handsome face framed by his dark curls, his blue eyes dazzling and curious. It was becoming an increasingly regular sight, but the more it happened the greater the effect it seemed to have over Jason, and this morning Howard had scrubbed up particularly well. Mark skimmed an approving eye over his outfit, wondering momentarily what the occasion could be, as Howard’s interest in being smart was usually outweighed by his preference for comfort. Then Mark glanced back to Jason.
“Try and keep a grip on your tea, Jay,” he murmured knowingly, and Jason shot him a half-hearted glare that only served to widen his grin.
“Morning Howard…we’re out of sugar I’m afraid, but you’re more than welcome to have a brew and a biscuit anyway,” Gary offered, ignoring Mark and Jason entirely.
“Jay’ll get you some sugar,” Mark remarked gleefully, a mischievous grin playing on his lips. Jason almost choked on his tea.
“Hot?” Gary asked him, raising his eyebrows suggestively, highly amused at Jason’s reaction.
“You’re both bastards, you know that?” Jason told them as he recovered himself, looking over to Howard apologetically. “They’re both bastards,” he reiterated in a half-amused, half-apologetic tone, and Howard smirked softly.
“Do I want to ask what you three are on about?” he questioned them, raising an eyebrow as he came over to join them by the stairs.
“Probably not. Just songwriting troubles,” Jason explained, giving Mark and Gary reprimanding looks at they sniggered quietly into their tea. “Mark swears he dreamt lyrical gold last night…but unfortunately sleep-recording is not an art form he’s perfected,” he clarified and Howard nodded.
“Not that I’ll be much use but…what’s the problem exactly?” he asked, and Mark noticed the way Howard’s eyes hardly left Jason. Jason himself was aware of Howard’s gentle gaze and he met it, narrowing his eyes at him slightly as though daring him to make a tease, and Howard smothered a smile, shrugging self-consciously.
“The problem is that we think we’ve struck magic but we can’t finish it off,” Gary interjected, looking between Jason and Howard knowingly and only just managing to not roll his eyes despairingly at them. “Honestly? Something’s missing. And the three of us can’t figure it out for the life of us,” he sighed, shaking his head. As he said the words, Jason and Howard quickly looked away from each other, both turning their eyes down shyly. The change in the air between them had become less noticeable over time, something both of them lived with and tried not to acknowledge out of a shared reluctance to tackle the danger of such an unknown force. But this time they both felt it acutely. Howard’s lips curled into a fond smile as he saw the look on Jason’s face, and he had to duck his head to avoid the other two men noticing. Nothing escaped Mark though.
“Maybe you’re the missing link,” he suggested, an impish smile on his face.
“Depends what you’re looking for,” Howard answered softly, risking a glance up just in time to catch Jason smiling quietly to himself, regarding Howard out of the corner of his eye.
“What’s missing is the punch of the song – you know, the bit where shivers go down your audience’s spine? The bit when the song just hits you. I know this song has potential but it’s just that final kick we need,” Gary explained, oblivious to the moment, and Mark groaned quietly.
“Oh Gaz,” he sighed, realising the spell was broken and was not likely to be re-cast any time soon.
“What?” Gary frowned as Mark patted his shoulder.
“Never mind, just show him the lyrics, go on!” he chided. Gary frowned, but he picked up his notebook obligingly, open already on the pages where Three Men And A Dusty Piano’s newest songwriting project had been drafted, redrafted and annotated to within an inch of its life. As Howard reached for the notebook, he and Jason looked at one another, knowing smiles on their lips, before Howard slowly turned his eyes down, flicking through the lyrics, notes and drafts in front of him. Being musically-minded, Howard found it easy to pick up the thread of what the three men were working towards, half-humming bits and pieces under his breath and smiling slightly at the hook of the chorus, his brain naturally able to adapt to imagine harmonies and intricacies that would fall into place when the song was performed.
“It’s beautiful,” he murmured, glancing up. “But…you’re calling this Rule The World? Surely that whole song is a soaring moment with a title like that?” he asked.
“You’d think. But no…here, listen. Lads, a capella. Even you, Jay,” Gary said, giving Jason a look that suggested shyness wasn’t going to be an option.
“Yeah, even you, Jay,” Mark teased, poking Jason gently. Jason pulled a face but still obliged. There was a certain level of comfort between himself and Howard now, and though he wasn’t the most confident singer of the three of them, he trusted Howard not to judge. They teased one another, but it was never serious. And Howard had nothing but admiration when it came to Jason’s interest in music – and Jason had quickly realised that that must mean something, because music, beats and harmonies were clearly Howard Donald’s greatest loves.
As the three men started to sing, Howard found he was mesmerized; the blend and tone of their three voices, the soft, tentative way they sang the words, humming the parts where the lyrics were unfinished, eyes on each other for timing, Gary’s warm, honeyed voice taking the lead and Mark’s rich, rough voice adding depth and emotion that gave the song a whole different sort of power that Howard could feel in his bones. And he couldn’t help but strain to catch Jason’s voice, lying perfectly just beneath the stronger voices of his friends, adding its own softness and sense of meaning, keeping the harmony strong where one had been mapped out. Slightly warm, a little rough. A lullaby voice. It was a strange sensation, listening to this rough draft of something magical unwind before him – he longed to join in, his ear for a harmony picking up on touches he could add and appreciating the details which his three friends had already come up with for themselves. But perhaps the most astonishing thing was that, as they trailed off, he could feel a thread of an idea start to form his mind. He understood; he knew what was missing. As the three trailed off into a loosely drafted ending, Gary pulled a face.
“That’s not the right ending that. You can’t finish it like that, not without a moment, a thing to hang the whole thing on before it’s over,” he grumbled, sipping his tea and shaking his head.
“I think it needs violins. You know, going crazy in the background – I think that would work. I don’t know what exactly we could do with it but I think it’s part of the solution. Well…if any of us could play violin…but I’m sure Gaz can do something with his keyboard that’ll sound just as good,” Mark put in, also letting out a huff of frustration. Jason looked up at Howard, studying his face. He took note of the furrow in his brow, the way his eyes were focused on the middle distance, and he was surprised to find that he knew exactly what that expression meant.
“You’ve thought of something, haven’t you,” he said softly, coaxingly, and Howard looked up at him, as though surprised to be addressed.
“Look, I’m no lyricist but…” he stopped and looked down again, pulling a face. “I dunno, but…I think…I think I’ve got an idea for your moment…” he said slowly, regarding the three men out of the corner of his eye, nervousness and shyness mingling in his face. Jason was the one who his eyes came to settle on, and Jason smiled quietly back at him, eyes alive with light and understanding. Howard couldn’t remember anyone ever looking at him that way before.
“Go for it,” Jason said softly. Howard smiled back at him slightly, straightening up a little and turning his eyes back to Mark and Gary, who were sitting watching the exchange with a mixture of curiosity and hope.
“Well…look, it’d have to be polished off a bit but…why don’t you just sing the violins…I mean, that sort of stepped, up and down you get with violins it’s…frenzied and ordered and big all at once, you know?” Howard ventured, hoping he didn’t sound mad. Gary and Mark frowned, but Jason smiled with instant recognition; there was always recognition with Jason.
“I get it,” he nodded slowly. “Like the stars, the sky. It’s something vast. And they’re all just up there shining. That’s the violins,” he explained, never once looking away from Howard.
“Exactly. And when you add that idea to the steps, the rhythm you get with strings in an orchestra…” Howard shrugged, and at that smiles began to spread across Gary and Mark’s faces, understanding dawning and bringing ideas with it.
“Hang on, hang on...ok....” Mark was nodding as he spoke, head bobbing as something in his brain clicked. “Like this, like this – listen: All the stars are coming out tonight,” Mark began to sing .
“They’re lighting up the sky tonight?” Jason put in, though he chose to speak the lyric, a look of concentration clouding his eyes. Gary shook his head in frustration.
“Not enough beats…we’re two off. Just two, what’s going to fit in there?!” he sighed.
“For you,” Howard said quietly. Jason’s eyes flickered open and he met Howard’s gaze. Neither man looked away this time. Mark looked between them with a knowing smile.
“I think we just found what we were missing,” he said, eyes aglitter, his mind no longer on the song at all.
***
They had sung and laughed and teased all morning. It was funny; they still didn’t have the record deal of their dreams, really nothing had changed at all. Jason still hadn’t asked Howard out. Even Mark and Gary were still oblivious to what was right under their noses. Really all they had done was finish a song – something they had done many times before, even with songs they’d struggled on. But they’d found something. Something more than just a potential new band member; it was that missing piece, that magic ingredient. Gary, Jason and Mark had been so happy, so content with their lives as they were. They’d all had their rough times; Gary had had his crisis of failure when no record labels wanted him, sending him back to the music shop he’d known as a child, Jason had had his crisis of indecision when he’d realised he hated his job and it had led him to Gary’s shop, and then Mark had had his crisis of faith in people when the bank kicked him out, leaving him busking on Oldham Street, just waiting for Gary’s eyes to find him. It had all turned out pretty well for them on the whole. Yet Howard’s arrival had still managed to change things, had managed to alter the chemistry of their little group – something none of them would’ve said could be a good thing if you’d asked them before it happened, and yet when it had come around, they’d let it change everything, because something inside all of them had somehow just known it was needed.
So here they were, celebrating on a Saturday morning in their shop, waiting for Howard and smiling like they were world famous already. Mark was teasing Gary relentlessly, enjoying the game of winding him up. Jason was just enjoying watching, although he couldn’t say he had much care for how slowly time passed without Howard. The three men were so distracted, however, that when the bell on the door finally did ring, not one of them heard it. But Howard had heard their laughter, so he ventured further in.
“Face it, Gaz, he can’t write. You can be nice, you can pretend, but at the end of the day – he’s nothing special,” Mark sighed over-dramatically, shaking his head so his hair fell haphazardly about his face.
“Oh come on, be nice,” Jason said in a half-hearted attempt at keeping the peace.
“Jay, be honest now…” Mark grinned, a devilish twinkle in his eyes. Jason laughed and shook his head before fixing Gary with his piercing gaze, eyebrows raised.
“His contribution to our sound? To be honest? Crap.” Gary pulled his most shocked face, waving an arm around in exasperation and making Mark have to bite back a laugh. “The last thing we need’s another ballad, mate, we’ve got them coming out our ears – don’t you think we need something a bit more meaningful than that?” Jason added, laughing as Mark giggled on his perch on the piano and Gary made noises of over the top outrage. And then they heard the squeak of the floorboards. They all turned to look, Mark letting out a small, urgent sound and Gary’s eyebrows raising as they caught sight of Howard Donald’s disappearing back.
“Shit – Jay, I think…” Gary began, turning back, but Jason was already on his feet.
“On it,” he stated, patting Gary’s shoulder as he passed him, heading after Howard. For a moment Mark and Gary stared after him, wondering what to do. It was Gary who broke the tension.
“I don’t care what you say, Elton John is a musical genius,” he huffed, setting Mark off into the giggles again.
“We were winding you up you twit! Although The Beatles are still better, you know. Now help me down from this piano so we can go and watch what happens next with How and Jay – I need to know!!” Mark grinned through his laughter.
It was pouring with rain outside but Howard still stopped when he heard Jason calling out his name. He was powerless; when that man said his name he was his and that was that. Why it was Howard didn’t question, but he accepted it as a fact and he stood stock still in the rain at Jason’s command. He could judge exactly where Jason was standing simply from the way the sound of the rain had changed pitch around them.
“Howard, we were winding Gaz up in there – I don’t know what you heard or what you thought it meant but, I promise you, it’s nothing to do with you. You’re the best thing that’s happened to this place since Mark started busking across the street,” Jason sighed, and Howard could feel his eyes on his back.
Swallowing down the tight knot of nerves that had formed in his throat, Howard slowly turned around, squinting against the rain and looking back at Jason intently. The rain water had flattened his brown hair to his head, and it was soaking through his clothes, but he didn’t even flinch in the cold. It was a sight that made Howard’s heart jump against his rib cage and a nervy half-smile formed, unbidden, on his lips as he shook his head slightly.
“No offence to Mark, but it’s not really his rejection I’m afraid of,” he admitted, his voice gentle but still strained as he tried to make himself heard over the rain. “To be honest…it’s not really Mark I’m waiting for at all,” he added, looking down. But he could still feel Jason’s eyes on him, and when he looked back up he was standing closer, eyes glinting even amidst the grey Manchester rain. Howard studied his face, studied the furrow of his brow and the anxiety that seemed to be playing at the edges of his expression. So often the two of them would look at each other and instantly know whatever thought it was playing on their minds, but this time Howard couldn’t be sure. He could see uncertainty there, fear even – but he could see more to it, could see Jason’s intensity in his eyes, the way he was so determined to meet Howard’s gaze and for Howard not to move. And he was defiant against whatever anxiety he felt, standing determinedly out there in the rain – it was enough to make Howard want to do the same.
“Howard.” He didn’t think he’d ever heard his name say so much, mean so much. But it did – the way Jason said it, the look in his eyes. A plea and a promise and a stubborn refusal all at once. “Look, I’m not…I can’t…” Jason stammered and Howard’s brow crinkled sadly.
“Jay, please don’t say what I think you’re going to,” he interrupted softly, and it made Jason wince, taking a step closer to Howard, his eyes earnest. He felt that sharp, sad note more than he felt the rain on his skin and he needed Howard to look at him, to understand him the way he had so many times before – only this time it really mattered
“Look…I…I’m kind of a mess, How, you know? I’m kind of a mess.” Jason’s eyes were intent upon Howard’s face as he spoke, even if his voice caught on the words. “I’m neurotic, I’m obsessive, I’m…I’m obtuse and ridiculous and I have so much history with so many…so many things and stories I’ve not had chance to tell you yet, ok? I’m just this huge, OCD disaster waiting to happen. I need therapy, not a relationship – no one should be in a relationship with me. But…especially not someone like you.” Howard flinched at that and but Jason stepped closer again, eyes pleading, and Howard found himself incapable of looking away, desperate to understand. “You are the kind of person I wish I could be sometimes, Howard, ok? You’re so many things and you do not deserve to have anyone around you who can’t handle that. You’ve just got this…you’ve got this genuine, rough-around-the-edges magic. And you’re a cocky bastard and you tell terrible jokes and you’re also shy and sweet and silly sometimes...and you are incredible, ok? You are incredible. And being around you is so easy sometimes and it…it makes me think that this could be alright.” Jason swallowed and looked away and Howard suddenly become overly aware of just where his heartbeat was in his chest. “But I know what I’m like. I know I’m not built that way and I know that…that if I told you even half of what goes through my head, half of what I have to do just to stay sane and make it through a day…it’d take that thing you have away. It’d drive you crazy, ok?” He looked back at Howard then. “So if you want to go then…I get that. Because I think you want to take a chance and…and I just don’t know if I can.” There was a lull then, the two of them listening to the sound of the rain and each other’s heavy breathing. Howard looked at Jason thoughtfully, wondering how on earth someone whose mind was so special could be so unaware of why that would be beautiful to someone like him. “I just want you to know that…whatever stupid mixed message it is you think I’m sending I just…I don’t want to bring you down and mess you about. You are such a good person, Howard Donald. Such a good person. And I would hate for you to never come by here again just because I’m an idiot. I just…you have to know that I could never, ever want to hurt you. Ever. You really are…really were…what was missing.” Jason let out a soft, sad laugh and Howard felt himself smile at the sound – oddly delighted by the catch in Jason’s breathing, strangely amazed by the look on his face, the concentration and earnestness there. Jason sniffed and looked up, wincing against the rain. “I just think a little bit of heartbreak now, while I’m still used to that missing piece being missing, is a lot easier than the pain there’d be the day you finally figured out that I’m crazy and it made you walk away. Because having someone understand you that way…and then having that taken away….it’s not something I’ve ever had before. And I think it’s more than I could actually take to have to know it and then lose it completely.” Jason’s speech poured out before he could stop it and he wasn’t sure how but he and Howard were suddenly standing very close, Howard’s fingertips close enough to brush against his own. He felt them there, felt them graze his knuckles, Howard’s eyes boring into him the whole time. He could feel the raindrops on Howard’s hands mix with the raindrops on his own and he looking into those blue eyes nervously, hopefully, suddenly aware that he was holding his breath.
“Show me,” Howard half-whispered at last, his forehead almost touching Jason’s now.
“Show you what?” Jason breathed, a frown just visible beneath the pounding rain.
“All of it. All the things you think I don’t see. Or you think I won’t like. Show me all of it. Every complexity, every fault, every flaw; because I’ve got news for you, Jason Orange – I want to see it. I want to know what makes someone like you. And I want to learn you and get cut by every broken edge over and over until I understand even more than I already do just by looking at you. Because I know you know I’m a mess too – and maybe it’s a different kind of disaster but…we’re both here. And neither one of us seems like we want to go anywhere. So I dare you. I dare you. There; I know then that you’ll have to stay here and kiss me because you can’t back down from a challenge. And I’m ready to stay here all day if it means you’ll kiss me.” Howard stared Jason down, took in the surprise as it changed into understanding again, the flicker of amusement dancing in his eyes, and something else which Howard didn’t dare hope was attraction. “I’m not scared of knowing you, Jay, because I think I already do. I know who you are enough to know that…there is no one I want to know more.” Howard shrugged. “Honestly, I think I’m just slowly falling into loving you, bit by bit, and whatever the challenge in that, whatever the stupidity? I’m too stubborn to care,” Howard said softly, resting his forehead against Jason’s, effectively closing what little gap was left between them. And as he looked up into Howard’s eyes, Jason knew he was right. He knew that Howard could let go of his hand right then and he wouldn’t move, too stubborn and intrigued to back down. All the mess in his head was irrelevant against the possibility that there was someone standing in front of him who really would just keep fighting for him, someone who actually might be just as stubborn as he was, someone who would stand in that rain with him all day if that was the challenge given to him.
“Howard,” he said softly. Howard’s eyes searched his face.
“Yeah?” Howard asked, nervously bringing his hand up to Jason’s face, the pad of his thumb grazing his cheek. Jason closed his eyes briefly, enjoying the sensation of Howard’s skin mingling with the rainwater.
“Challenge accepted,” he murmured, a playful smile dancing on his lips as he slowly opened his eyes and looked straight back into Howard’s. He smiled conspiratorially, quirking an eyebrow. “And if you want to know a secret? I think I might be falling slowly into loving you too,” he admitted softly, laughing at the grin that overtook Howard’s whole face and bringing his hands up to his cheeks. And finally they kissed, right there in the rain; Jason closing the gap and Howard pulling him closer the moment he tasted those lips on his own. And for once Jason’s mind was clear of all else but that moment: just Howard’s body pressed against his and the sound of the rain.
From the shop window Mark had watched them, trying and failing to read their lips but finding their body language gave away more clues than any words could. As they finally came together, Mark’s whole face lit up with a smile, excitement and happiness bubbling up, his wide eyes sparkling with equal parts mischief (because Jason was in for so many ‘I told you so’ teases when he got back inside) but also genuine happiness for his friends and for the possibilities for all four of them if Howard was going to be staying around. But for some reason that wasn’t actually what made Mark smile the most.
“What’s happening out there?” Gary asked, appearing at Mark’s side.
“Romance,” Mark stated simply, glancing wistfully at Gary. And there it was. The thought making him smile most: Gary Barlow.
“Looks like it’s going to be Four Men And A Dusty Piano then, eh?” Gary chuckled, glancing at Mark. Mark looked at him with glittering eyes, searching Gary’s face for…something. And after a beat, with his heart in his throat, Mark reached across and pressed a lingering kiss to Gary’s lips. He wasn’t sure if it lasted a minute or a second, but the butterflies were overwhelming and he had to work hard to steady his breath when he finally stood back to search Gary’s face once more. And as he looked, Gary simply smiled quietly – everything Mark needed to know lingered in the silence and for once in his life, just a silence was enough for him.
“Brew?” Gary asked, his gaze honest and unwavering. Mark chuckled fondly.
“Sounds gorgeous,” he agreed with a nod.