Fallen Hearts: Fallen Book 2 (a Boys of Porn novella)

CH 3

"You... play the guitar?" Brian picked up the Fender, admiring the sleek, shiny body. "How did I not know this?"

"I don't know. I haven't played in a long time... haven't even thought about it. I guess I just kind of forgot about it."

Brian sat on the bed and held the guitar comfortably as if it wasn't his first time. He lightly strummed the strings, eyes resting vacantly on the floor.

"Have you played before?"

"Not really." Brian quieted, holding the instrument to his chest. A strained look spread across his face. "My brother had just started teaching me before... the accident."

Brian rarely spoke of his older brother, John. All Patrick knew about John was that he'd died in a car accident about a year before Patrick and Brian met. He didn't know any of the details of John's life. This was the first... that he'd played the guitar.

Unsure about pressing for more, Patrick proceeded with caution. "How old was he when he...?"

"Eighteen," Brian whispered. "I'd just turned fourteen." He blinked and raised his eyes to Patrick. "He died on my birthday."

"Oh my God..." Patrick sat beside him. "I-I didn't know that."

Tension stiffened Brian's body and he gripped the guitar. "I don't usually tell people. That's not what I want my friends thinking about when they come to my birthday parties. I want them to have fun, not secretly pitying me the whole time."

"I can understand that." Patrick rested his hand on Brian's shoulder. "But that day can't be easy for you."

Brian shrugged. "I just try to focus on the party and my friends." He smiled weakly. "And I pray a lot the night before. God's been good about keeping my spirits up at that time of the year." He sighed and loosened his grip on the Fender, again strumming the strings. "In high school, John was in a band. They played at most of the school dances and even had paying gigs now and then. After graduation, he was going to music school, wanted to make music his life." Brian laid the guitar on the bed and stood up, moving away from Patrick. He sniffed, wiping his eyes. "And then it was gone... just like that. He was gone."

Patrick's vision blurred. "I'm sorry." He went to Brian and hugged him from behind. "You could've talked to me about it. You can... whenever you need to."

"I know," Brian whispered. "It's just that sometimes... I forget he's gone. He was always there for me, you know? He called me his best bud and we were... we were best friends. Sometimes I pretend he's just away somewhere, on tour." He wiped fresh tears from his face and cleared his throat. "Excuse me." He walked into the bathroom and blew his nose. When he returned, he didn't speak of his brother anymore and nodded at the guitar. "So, play something. Show me your mad skills."

Patrick wiped the lingering tears from his eyes and picked up the Fender. "I don't have an amp anymore, so it won't sound very good." He smiled small. "It might not sound good anyway; I haven't played for a while."

"Just play."

Eager to lighten the mood, Patrick laughed softly. "Okay." He sat on the bed and strummed out a tune that he hadn't thought about in years—yet came back to him in an instant.

Brian smiled. "You're really good. You should play at church. Add some twang to music service."

"Yeah?"

"Yes, absolutely. I mean, we only have the piano and a bass guitar. We need a lead guitarist."

"I'll... I'll think about it."

Brian lay sideways across the bed. "When did you learn to play?"

"I started learning when I was around ten. Self-taught, mostly."