Chapter Text
They got to Manchester after a short flight from Ljubljana and, shockingly, miraculously, ALL of their bags arrived with them.
“I’m almost tempted to tip the luggage handlers on this flight…” said Kris, slinging on his bagpack and slid the handle up out of his suitcase, “but then again it really should be happening every time.” Bojan laughed, pushing his sunglasses on and walking ahead, past the groggy-eyed drummer who paused in the middle of a huge yawn.
“Hey.”
Jan sidled up next to Jure and took off his headphones, softly placing his hand on the blonde’s shoulder and asked in a low voice, “you feeling ok?”
“Honestly not great,” Jure finished his yawn, his blood-shot blue eyes turned to look at Jan, who felt his heart twinge convulsively at the discomfort his friend is feeling. “I think I’ll take a huge nap when we get to the hotel…” Jure rubbed his nose, “it’s ok Janči, I’ll be ok for tonight, don’t worry.”
He gave Jan’s hand on his shoulder a little reassuring squeeze.
The day did not get any better for Jure.
The moment they stepped through their hotel door, their drummer collapsed on the sofa, one hand over his forehead and curled up into a ball on his side, groaning out loud, his brows furrowed. Jan sighed in his head, exasperated at the state Jure put himself in, he still can’t stop himself from tossing his hair aside and kneeling down beside the drummer, grudgingly amused. He laid his hands on Jure’s back and massaged him softly.
“Muca—“
“odidi veni Jan leave me alone…”
“I will baby once you tell me why you’re feeling bad.”
Jure groaned and mumbled something incoherent into the crooks of his own arm, not bothering to face Jan.
“What’s that?”
“Fuck off.”
Nace entered the room at that moment, saw Jure curled up on the sofa and shot Jan a questioning ‘what’s up’ look. Jan opened his mouth to answer,
“Stubborn kitty.”
Jan received a none-so-gentle kick in the stomach from said cat laid on the sofa seconds after. Nace chuckled and said he was gonna take a shower, leaving the two behind with a “I’ll leave him to ya” as he exited.
“Okay…out with it Jurček what’s wrong.”
Jure slowly turned on his side to face Jan, hugging the sofa pillow close to him, he was in his grey sweater, hood pulled up over his head, looking at the dark haired man through fluffs of blonde hair covering his forehead and eyes, the pillow covering the rest of his pale face.
“mmhng—zajtrksemimelcigareteinkavo”
“…Kaj?”
Jure shut his eyes resolutely, dragged the pillow away from his face and took a deep breath,
“I had cigarettes and coffee for breakfast.”
Jan stared back blankly. After a few seconds, the corners of his mouth quirked up sideways.
“And you’re proud to call yourself Balkan?”
“What…? Oh shut up you fucker.” Jure scowled, but immediately winced and covered his stomach again, squirming in discomfort. Jan suspected he did not have anything else besides that all day, and the day before they were all so tired from the previous concerts Jure went straight to bed without drinking enough water. Just as Jan was thinking how to salvage Jure’s dangerous nutrition balance, Bojan and Kris bursted back in with Širca behind them on his phone, announcing the place their host were taking them to a late lunch.
“Come on Jurček you gotta eat something before we play tonight, we don’t want to look for a replacement drummer in Manchester…” Bojan leaned down on the sofa arm to peak at Jure, ruffling his hair. Jure moaned in discomfort and sat up half way, Jan scooted in next to him and Jure dug his head into the guitarist’s chest, arms coming to circle his waist, holding on to him like a baby sloth sticking to its mother’s side. Jan patted the top of the blonde head making its way down his stomach, pulling Jure somewhat upright, the drummer still sticking to him like he never want to leave.
“Ok boys let’s get going, we’re going to a Korean barbecue place!” said Kris, promptly opening the door and stepping out, down the stairs outside.
“As much as I wanna stay here and cuddle a sick kitten…” Jan sank his fingers into Jure’s hair, brushing his fingertips through his scalp. Jure hummed and purred at the pleasant pressure, which seem to relieve some of the hollow weight pulling down in his tummy. “I’m really hungry and unlike someone I didn’t decide to be a total rock star at 8am.” Jure chuckled weakly through his nose against Jan’s chest, “I guess age does get to you…I did this every other day while we were renovating that garage.”
“Well!” Jan laughed, playfully squeezing an arm full of Jure, “shall we catch up to the others then, Grandpa Jure?”
—
The club was much more low ceilinged than they anticipated, packed full to the brim, heat seems to be rising off the floor and oozing down through cracks on the ceiling, the crowd was going insane, screaming their head off and throwing bras and roses on stage. Few girls fainted either due to heat or alcohol. It really was like the Beatles of the new age. Jan kept looking back to where the drums were, besides the few ridiculous seconds when he saw his pedal boards were not switched on, he made sure to check on Jure ever so often to see if he seemed fine.
Jure ate very little during the meal, but insisted he wanted jelly beans before they headed to the venue, coaxing Jan that he’d feel better if he had some before the gig. Eventually he bribed Sandi and Širca into grabbing some for him on the way to soundcheck, then ate them with some other sweet stuff he believed to effectively chase away the pain and give him energy, on the roof top terrace of the building. He was on his 25th bean when Jan found him.
Stupid idiot. Jan thought endearingly to himself while stringing the strap of the pink bra around his tuning pegs to tumultuous screams of fans, getting ready for the next song while tuning, and glanced back at Jure for a signal to start vse kar vem.
The drummer was wiping sweat glistening off his entire torso with a fluffy towel to no avail. Slapping his sticks together he shouted, “èn, dvá—èn, dvá, trí, štír!” and Jan began to pick his way through the familiar riff and melody. The solo went fine, Jure made it look easy, he didn’t show any signs of discomfort but neither did he look up and smile at Jan during the guitar-drum solo. They finished the song with the usual gusto and flourish, the crowd’s volume barely contained, exploding in the long, low rectangle room. Jan held his pick between his teeth and brushed his hair back with both hands, glancing back to see Jure staring at him, mouth slightly open, panting, sweat dripping off his chin. All of a sudden he felt an overwhelming urge to be near Jure. Immediately. NOW. He could feel the moisture from sweat clinging to the air.
Slinging his guitar to his side he strode over behind the drum kit and hugged Jure's sweaty head and shoulders tight, blonde wet hair plastered to Jan’s cheek, then took both hands and bent the drummer’s head upwards and leant down so close like he was gonna kiss Jure full on the mouth (or to spit in his mouth). People screamed and laughed he whispered, very close to Jure’s mouth, “didn’t need that shirt on in the first place. You look so damn fine baby you’re on fire.” Jan let go of Jure's head. Jure threw his head back and laughed, dragging Jan down by his neck to kiss his cheek.
Jan went back to his place, still smiling to himself, ears full of fans screaming themselves hoarse beyond the feedback earpieces. Maček was gonna get a hell of a cuddle in the tour bus tonight, (He will find a way to do it somehow) sometimes cuddling with a Jure who’s had a bad day gives Jan the feeling of hugging a little sturdy loaf of bread and melting inside.
Then maybe, get it into his head to switch up his breakfast options.