Chapter Text
“Have you spoken to Robbie at all?”
Mark's wary grimace told Jason that his question hadn't come out quite as offhand as intended, but the furrow between Mark's brows softened a moment later.
“Not really,” Mark admitted. “Sent him a message just to see how he’s been holding up, but nothing back. Can’t blame him, I suppose.”
“Yeah.” Jason chewed his lip, unsure as to whether or not he wanted to pry further and let on just why he was curious about Rob’s whereabouts.
“It’s strange, innit?” Mark went on, sparing Jason the need to decide. “I know it’s just the same as it was before, but… feels different.”
“It is different,” Jason said without thinking. He caught a sharp, inquisitive gaze in his periphery and chose to keep staring into the dregs of his tea.
“How d’you mean?”
With a sigh, Jason pushed the mug away and looked at the ceiling instead, as though deep in thought and not simply avoiding Mark’s eye.
“Well,” he began slowly, “last time we got together as a four, right? And that was after years apart. I think if you’d told me we’d try to get on right after - well, you know - then it might've felt quite a lot different then too.”
“This isn’t the same as all that.” Mark’s voice came out slightly affronted; Jason could sense his defensiveness of Rob crackling like an aura.
“No, I know that.” Jason exhaled through his nose while choosing his next words carefully. “I just mean… we’d gone from basically nothing at all to the four of us again, then we spent that little while thinking we'd have the five of us, only for that to c-change.”
To his horror, a lump in his throat almost choked the last word on its way out. Willing back any needless displays of emotion, he glanced back at Mark’s leery expression to ground himself.
“Just feels more sudden, doesn’t it?” Jason continued, voice a little stronger now. “Like the rug’s been pulled out from under us.”
Mark looked a hair’s breadth from arguing on behalf of their errant bandmate, but he soon deflated, once more uncharacteristically solemn in a way that Jason had come to associate with Rob-related troubles. He hadn’t seen Mark look this grim since the 90s.
“That’s true, yeah.” Mark stared into the middle distance for a long moment before slapping one thigh and rising to his feet so brusquely that the chair skittered several inches away. “Right, I told the missus I’d be home early tonight, so…”
“Best be off then,” Jason finished for him, hoping his wan smile did enough to offer grace for the obvious lie. “And we’ve got an early morning, yeah?”
“Of course, yeah.” Mark seemed chagrined to have forgotten the better excuse, but he managed a smile of his own and raised a hand in parting. “See you, mate.”
“See you.” Jason watched Mark push the chair back in and scarper without another word.
There was no wonder Mark was a little off-kilter; of any of them, Mark always had the best luck at coaxing Rob out of hiding whenever he retreated. And if Mark wasn’t able to get Rob to bite, Jason didn’t think he had much of a chance… which made his predicament all the more troubling.
He needed to talk to someone, and it so happened that Rob was the best option, given their mutual history with band-related indecision. The irony was in Rob’s leaving solidifying his utility for the conversation, all while making him more inaccessible than ever.
Take That was already strained thanks to one person backing out. Jason wasn’t sure if they would survive two losses in quick succession.
Deep in thought, he drew a book from his bag and opened it to a random page. He had no intention of reading, but he didn’t want to be sitting on his own with a glazed expression. His eyes skimmed the words unseeingly, brain cluttered with what felt like a thousand tiny stressors all adding up to one massive, insurmountable problem.
The band fumbling to regain their footing… Mark’s unusual timidity in the wake of Rob’s decision… Gary’s brick wall of professionalism… Howard - just Howard in general, who’d already been weighing on Jason’s conscience since before Rob took his leave. Jason knew his friend well enough to recognise when the other was on edge and doing his utmost to brush it off with forced normalcy. Howard just wasn’t as good at donning a poker face as Gary.
At no point had Jason floated his concerns past Howard, at least not beyond a conversation some months ago where he’d mentioned an extremely casual (so he believed) hypothetical about what they all might do after the band. He’d learned very quickly that there was no “after” the band to Howard, who’d looked at him in alarm at the mere concept of Take That no longer existing. From that point onward, even the slightest hint that Jason might have second thoughts was enough to send Howard into a moody funk that only subsided with reassurances that nobody was going anywhere.
To bring this up with Howard now would be tantamount to a formal betrayal, especially when Jason knew that he was in a particularly volatile state thanks to Rob. That much was clear in Howard’s incessant requests to spend time together, which they’d always done plenty; now, Howard hardly left space for Jason to breathe, like he was terrified Jason would vanish if he was out of sight for too long.
Speaking of… Jason set the book aside and fished out his phone, only having just remembered that Howard had texted him not long after he sat down with Mark.
- Dinner tonight?
Jason reread the two words several times, knowing he couldn’t dodge the invitations forever (having excused himself out of the last few offers with varying levels of credibility) but worried that he’d reach a boiling point and start blabbing. Still, Howard would only grow more suspicious the longer Jason avoided him, so he conceded to plans to get a bite to eat at a nearby curry joint. Something fast and casual and nowhere he’d be inclined to have any serious conversations.
There was something about Howard’s baleful, pleading eyes that coaxed admissions out of Jason whether he wanted to share them or not, and this was well and truly not the time to go divulging his innermost problems. It pained him, being unable to share his struggles with the people who knew him best, but… even a man who knew him well couldn’t be privy to every recess of his heart. That much had been true since day one, regardless of the person, and Howard was no exception.
On a few occasions Jason had come dangerously close to confessing anyway, often no thanks to wine and the sense of comfortable trust that comes from getting pissed with your best mate. Fortunately Jason always remembered that his drunken confidence wouldn’t save him if Howard got wind that he had one foot out the door, and he'd managed to bite his tongue every time.
The worst had been right before Rob’s fatal announcement, when all they’d known of his wavering commitment was a couple small expressions of nervousness at returning in a formal capacity. Jason had been very drunk that night, for reasons he couldn’t really recall, and he’d nearly told an equally sloshed Howard that he wouldn’t be shocked if Rob backed out - not because he wanted or expected it to happen, but because he was almost envious that Rob could. There were fewer obligations tying Rob to the band than Jason, who knew that his own departure would create far more of a shockwave to the rest of the lads.
Mercifully he’d kept his mouth shut, partly so as not to put that energy into the world and partly because he didn’t relish the tiff that would ensue. They’d been in too good a mood that night - Howard in particular, who’d been all over Jason with the easy physicality with which they expressed their affection back in the 90s. That sort of thing was less common now that they’d become proper adults, but the drink had a way of bringing them back to their cuddly roots.
To sour that cosy dynamic with a messy conversation was the last thing Jason wanted. All the better, too, considering how soon after his little prediction came true.
And, also as predicted, he felt a visceral envy at Rob’s freedom to step back, as miserable as it made everyone else. The harsh realisation of how much he wished that was him was eye-opening, not the least because Rob’s presence had felt like a grounding anchor to his wandering spirit. Now that anchor had gone, and Jason was left adrift with his mutinous dreams.
A notification from the phone distracted him from his gloomy thought spiral.
- Could always come over for drinks after if you’d like. Early morning tomorrow I know!
Jason sighed and pocketed the phone, unwilling to field the request for now. It could wait until he’d thought up an excuse to decline. He wanted to say something about how Howard could always get drinks with his new lady friend instead, but it would probably come across as petty rather than a genuine suggestion.
It was a little bit petty, of course, but that was neither here nor there. Jason didn’t have much to stand on when Howard was undoubtedly making a point to spend more time with the band (and Jason specifically) than the woman he wasn’t quite seeing. Not officially, anyway.
Howard’s dating life being a sore spot for Jason was hypocrisy at its finest given his less than idle daydreams of escape, but old habits died hard. A problem that had secretly plagued him since the moment they met wasn’t something that could be shaken off just because he had mixed feelings about the band. His distinctly non-platonic feelings for his friend were a perennial affliction he’d made uncertain peace with long ago, kept pruned somewhere deep and private in his heart so as not to create any discord within the band unit.
Jason was loath to acknowledge it, but there was a corner of his mind that sought to leave for reasons that were just as personal as they were professional. Freedom from Take That meant freedom from a proximity that only caused him more pain as the years progressed and Howard began expressing a desire to settle down (but remain in the band, of course - that much was a guarantee).
The mere thought of being in Take That if Howard were to maintain a serious relationship - or, god forbid, get married - was enough to turn Jason’s stomach. He’d already endured plenty during their years as colleagues, watching a seemingly endless parade of flings and short-term relationships occupy Howard’s attention while he waited by the sidelines. It might’ve been easier to tolerate if Howard didn’t return to him every time, prioritising their friendship over any woman he was involved with to the point where Jason was left to wonder whose company Howard truly preferred.
And if Howard remembered the one night last year where they’d both gotten so drunk that he’d made a “joke” about how he ought to just date Jason instead, then he certainly never acknowledged it ever again. It had taken a Herculean effort on Jason’s part not to kiss him right then and there, and thank god he hadn’t, considering Howard’s apparent amnesia the next day.
Between his quiet indecision and those stewing feelings, there were various reasons why drinking together posed some sort of risk these days. If he couldn’t come up with a way of avoiding tonight’s invitation altogether, then at least he had the benefit of early obligations tomorrow to provide an escape rope.
The more he vacillated, and the more he dodged Howard's company, the greater his guilt. All the more incentive for him to seek out some form of talk therapy, even with Robbie as the therapist. He wasn't quite at the point of texting Rob directly - not if Mark hadn't been able to get in touch - but surely an opportunity would present itself somehow.
Surely.
-
As it turned out, a blessing came several days later in the form of a small notebook, spotted only by chance as Jason was donning his coat before leaving the studio for the evening. The other lads had already filtered out, including Howard, who’d lingered long enough to silently communicate a desire for company. Jason had sent his friend off with a gentle reminder of how spent he was - which wasn’t untrue, but mostly he wanted to spend the night in his usual way. That was to say, ruminating on his own problems.
The notebook, which had fallen behind one of the chairs, was simple and black and might not have caught Jason’s eye if not for the fact that he recalled Rob thumbing through it during one of his few stints in the studio. A quick flip through the pages confirmed that it was a lyric workbook of sorts, and most definitely Rob’s, given the particularly erratic scrawl.
Jason didn’t peruse it long enough to spy; fate had provided him a convenient reason to reach out, and that was enough. Pocketing the notebook, he didn’t even wait till he was out the door to fire off a text. At least now he had an excuse.
- Think I’ve found your lyric book, mate. I can drop it off if you’d like.
He fully didn’t expect to hear from Rob any time soon, eager though he was to get in contact. It just made it all the more shocking when his phone buzzed almost right away, even before he’d made it out to the car.
- I was wondering where that went. Thought it was gone forever. Bless you J xx
Jason stared at his phone for a minute or two, waiting for Rob to follow up with plans to collect the notebook. When nothing arrived, he chanced a somewhat bolder message.
- Meet somewhere? Nothing on tomorrow, if you’re available.
That time there was a lengthy stretch before any replies came through. Jason made it back to the hotel and had already changed into comfier clothes when his phone chimed.
More surprising than Rob’s initial immediate response was the fact that his suggestion wasn’t to meet at a cafe or restaurant (or somewhere even more impersonal, like a random street corner), but in his own hotel room, tomorrow afternoon at 1pm.
Jason fired back a quick confirmation - probably overly quick, but he was too intrigued by Rob’s unprecedented hospitality to delay things artificially. He set himself a reminder for the meeting, though he was sure he’d be waiting on tenterhooks from the moment he woke up the next morning.
Frankly he wasn’t confident he’d be able to sleep much anyway, too consumed by the potential reasoning behind why he'd gotten Rob’s attention when no one else had. But as it turned out, his earlier excuses of exhaustion proved more valid than anticipated; the moment he settled in bed for the night, unconsciousness found him sooner rather than later.
So he hadn’t lied to Howard. Not really.
-
Despite the early evening, Jason awoke unrested after a fitful and oddly dreamless sleep. Still, his eagerness to meet with Rob carried him through his usual daily routine in spite of the tiredness. He started off with a longer than average shower and a full grooming session - beard trimmed, nails clipped, the whole nine yards, simply for the purpose of filling his time before the rendezvous. Afterward he meandered to a nearby cafe for a coffee and spot of brunch. He wasn’t particularly hungry, stomach all twisted up with nerves, but at least it was something to do.
He took a car to the hotel far earlier than necessary (after checking about five times to ensure he had Rob’s notebook in his satchel), arriving in the lobby at half noon. Rob had provided his room number already, but Jason didn’t want to go knocking before their designated meeting time, so he parked himself in one of the lobby chairs and pulled out his book.
Hardly five minutes passed before Jason was roused from his reading by the sense of someone standing nearby. Glancing up, he saw a woman hovering some few feet away, waving at him with an uncertain smile on her face.
“Hey there,” she said as soon as Jason met her eye. “Sorry, didn’t mean to bother you -”
“Not at all.” Jason tucked the book away and rose to his feet, offering a hand. “Ayda, right?” He’d met Rob's fiancee in passing when Rob was still coming around the studio, but they hadn’t exchanged more than a few words.
“That’s me.” Her grin became more genuine at the recognition, and her handshake was firm and confident. “You’re dropping that book off for Rob, right? That’s so sweet of you to do.”
“It’s no trouble, really. I know I’d hate to lose something with so much of my work in it.”
“You don’t even know the half of it,” Ayda replied with a small laugh. “He’s been a wreck ever since he noticed it was missing, and it’s not like…” She paused, looking around as though to check if anyone was eavesdropping, then leaned in conspiratorially. “Well, he didn’t exactly want to go to the studio to look for it, right?”
Jason nodded sympathetically, reflecting upon his own reluctance to spend much time there these days. “I understand. I’m happy to help out.”
Ayda straightened up, still beaming at him. “You’re a real sweetheart.”
Somewhat uncomfortable with the effusive praise, Jason debated whether or not to excuse himself, even if it was still early. The best he could do without sounding rude was try to gently see her off.
“Are you headed out, then?” he began, noting her elaborate outfit and air of purpose.
“Yeah, have to get some meetings out of the way.” She readjusted the bag on her shoulder and gestured toward the lifts. “Rob’s awake, if you wanted to head up. I’m sure he’s excited to see you.”
“Likely more excited to see his book,” Jason said, smiling lightly so as not to make his quiet anxiety too obvious. “But yes, perhaps I will. It was room… er…?” He went for his phone to double check the information Rob had sent him, but Ayda distracted him with a beckoning gesture.
“Here, let me show you.” She was already a few paces away before Jason could protest, though she glanced back over her shoulder to ensure he was following.
“Please, if you’re busy, you don’t have to -”
“Don’t worry about it,” Ayda interjected with a flap of her hand. “I’ve got plenty of time, and you’ve come all this way already. It’s the least I can do.”
As they waited for the lift, Jason decided not to bother explaining that it was hardly a monumental task to get a car to the hotel. Perhaps he was victim to his own curiosity at how receptive she was to his presence, leading him to wonder what Rob had been saying about the band as a whole since he’d left. Some small part of him had feared that Rob might have walled himself off with fabricated animosity against the lot of them - though Jason knew those fears were thanks to attitudes from decades ago.
Once they were in the lift, Ayda turned to him abruptly, her earlier grin gone and replaced with a pleading, somewhat worried look. “Sorry if this is weird, but… you’re not going in there to give him a hard time over all of this, are you?”
Jason had to stop himself from laughing in surprise. “I - no, not at all.” He brought out the notebook as if to prove his point. “I just wanted to return this is all. And see how he’s doing, really. But it’s not going to be a lecture or anything like that.”
The tension in Ayda’s posture loosened visibly, and a hint of her former smile returned. “Okay, I’m glad to hear that. Sorry, I hope it didn’t sound like I was accusing you or anything. He’s just… well, you know Rob. I’m worried about him.”
“I think we all are,” Jason replied quietly. He cleared his throat and arranged his face into the most reassuring expression he could manage. “But I promise you, I’m here as a - as a friend. I’ve got no plans to tell him off.”
“You’d better not.” Ayda’s voice was lighter now, audibly teasing. “I won’t hear the end of it if you do.”
The lift doors slid open as they arrived at the correct floor, and Ayda pointed down one of the corridors.
“It’s 530, down near the end of the hall and on the right,” she said. “Unless he’s fallen back asleep somehow, you’re totally fine to knock. And if he is asleep, well… just knock harder.”
“Thank you,” Jason said, holding out a hand again to demonstrate his sincerity. “I’ll be gentle, promise.”
“I trust you.” Ayda beamed as she shook his hand before backing into the lift, the doors closing shut as she waved in farewell.
Jason turned back to the empty hall and took a steadying breath. As he walked to Rob's room, he envisioned a thousand ways this conversation could turn out, from being asked to leave immediately to a fiery row to an emotional outpouring (on whose part, he wasn't sure). Anxiety stalled his hand before he could knock, but after a brief internal scolding, he rapped on the door and waited for a response.
A long enough moment passed that Jason was about to knock again when the door swung open, revealing Robbie in a cosy tracksuit and the mussed hair of someone not long out of bed. But Rob was grinning, and he stepped back and spread his arms.
"The man of the hour," he declared. He took a half-pace forward as if to give Jason a hug, then, deciding against it, gestured for him to take a seat anywhere. "Can I get you a drink? Can't offer much more than Perrier, mind you, unless we order in."
"Perrier would be lovely," Jason said, overcome by a wash of relief at how normal this felt in spite of the circumstances. Perhaps this wouldn't be quite as harrowing as he'd feared.
They didn’t launch into any sort of serious conversation right away, but neither did Rob give any indication that he wanted Jason to clear out as soon as they’d gotten through the pleasantries. Mostly they discussed the usual banal topics, like the recent footie match and how eager they both were to be anywhere other than New York.
On some level, Jason suspected that Rob had been lonely over the last little while. Neither of them even mentioned the notebook until they’d been chatting for nearly a quarter of an hour, when Rob seemed to remember the reason why Jason dropped by in the first place.
“You’re a lifesaver, honestly,” Rob said as Jason handed over the book. “I mean, dunno if this will get much use now, but…”
“You never know. Might come in handy someday, on your own or otherwise.”
“Suppose it depends.” Rob skimmed through the pages upon pages of lyrics and marginalia. “Been thinking about throwing in the towel altogether, to be honest with you. Maybe it’s a good time for the end of Robbie Williams.”
“Surely you don’t mean that,” Jason said before he could stop himself. He wasn’t unfamiliar with Rob’s fickle attitude toward his chosen career path, but he’d assumed part of the reluctance to rejoin Take That was due to a desire to remain a solo act.
Rob set the notebook aside and frowned. “Why not? I don’t feel very well, Jay. It’s hard to want to do this - any of this - when I’m feeling so… drained. It’s like my soul’s been eroded and I’m not doing it any favours by throwing meself back into this, this sort of thing.”
“And that’s understandable.” All too understandable, though Jason wasn’t keen to insert his own problems into the mix quite yet. “But you don’t think you’d want to keep at it, after you’ve given yourself a bit of time? You’ve never struck me as the type to be able to let all of this go.”
“Hmm.” Rob’s expression was unreadable for a moment, and Jason experienced a pang of worry that his comment had sounded more barbed than intended. But then Rob smiled wrily, and spread his arms wide in a shrug.
“It’s not like it doesn't have its perks,” Rob said in a lofty voice Jason had come to recognise as more bluster than authenticity. “But is it really worth it, especially at this point? I’ve got all I need out of the fame - fortune and comfort and that - so what’s the use in putting meself through all this shit just to keep on top of it all?”
Jason shifted uncomfortably at hearing his own darkest thoughts being put to voice, but he cleared his throat and tried to push that frisson of recognition away. “Sure, but you like it, don’t you? Any part of it? The creating, the performing, working with people… You always seemed like it was… your thing.”
Rob wrinkled his nose and shook his head. “Performing’s the worst bit. And as for working with others… well, that’s just a good way to let people down, innit? Whether it’s you or them, someone’s probably getting mugged off. It’s a high-stress business, this is.”
“It’s not a matter of letting people down if you’re able to communicate and compromise,” Jason replied delicately, remembering Ayda’s words of caution. “But you’re right when you say there’s a lot of stress involved.”
“I know what you’re saying.” Rob didn’t sound as indignant as he might’ve given Jason’s less-than-subtle prod, but there was a moody cast to his face now. “It wasn’t an easy decision, especially knowing how it was gonna make you lot feel. But if you ask me, if I knew I wasn’t doing well, it’s better to get it over with early than let it become a big mess down the road, yeah?”
“Maybe so.” Jason chewed his lip, trying to hold Ayda’s supplicating look in his mind and failing miserably. “But you know… your whims, they - they have a direct effect on us. Even if you change your mind and do something about it right away. I don’t blame you for doing what was right for you and your health. But just because you did it early on, doesn’t mean that I - that we weren’t hurt.”
There was a minute of silence that wasn’t anywhere near as uncomfortable as Jason anticipated, though Rob was now staring out the window and picking at something on the armrest of the chair. Jason had pushed his luck to the brink with that comment, as gently as he’d tried to deliver it, but at least Rob hadn’t lost his temper or asked him to leave. Yet.
“I’m not upset with ya,” Jason emphasised. “I really don’t hold it against you. But it’s, it’s not a great feeling either. We were all excited -”
“I was excited too, you know that?” Rob interjected. “Jay, I can’t even tell you how it made me feel that any of the boys were willing to have me, especially with everything that’s gone on. But that made it worse, yeah? When I realised I couldn’t, y’know, give all of meself to the band, that I’d end up letting you all down, then I thought, well, I ought to do something about it.”
Something nauseating was flip-flopping deep in Jason’s gut, his unspoken anxieties more riled up than ever at the familiar thoughts being shared. Lord knew that a great majority of his problem was the desperate terror that he no longer shared the same level of passion as the other lads, which was something that would only become increasingly obvious as time went on. Soon there’d come a day when he’d no longer be able to convince them of his faux eagerness with a nod and smile, and what of the band then?
Losing Rob for a second time had shaken them up enough. If Jason were to follow suit, then who was to say how badly it would rattle their rocky foundations?
And Jason had a sense that his departure would have dire consequences regardless of whether or not he waited to break that news, no matter how Rob had managed to justify it to himself.
“I know, mate,” Jason said eventually. “I really do, probably more than you’d think.”
Rob looked back at him sharply. “What d’you mean?”
Jason took a long, steadying breath. “Do you remember back when the band was thinking about getting back together for the first time, five years or so ago?”
“Course,” Rob said with a nod. “I remember you calling me in a tizzy about it.”
“That’s it.” Jason adjusted in his seat, reflecting upon the repetition of history and the fact that it was once again Rob whose counsel he sought on the matter. “I feel like… a bit like I did back then, I think. Like I don’t know… I just don’t know.”
He wasn’t sure if he’d need to elaborate, but Rob seemed to grasp the implication immediately, his face dropping in what looked to be mild panic. “Jesus, Jay - it’s not because of me, is it?”
“No, no,” Jason assured him hastily. “It’s something I’ve been dealing with for - well, for a while now. Before you came back, I mean. Just been wondering if this is really what I want to keep doing, that sort of thing. Probably your leaving has it at the front of my mind, but it’s not your doing.”
Rob sunk back into his chair, somewhat less distressed but still fretful as he held Jason’s eye. “Well, shit. We’re really putting those boys through a lot, aren’t we?”
Jason would’ve laughed if he didn’t feel so abjectly miserable. “I’ve not told them anything yet,” he said. “Not with - not right now. Doesn’t feel like the right time. But I’m not sure what I’m gonna do about it either, since I can’t just… not think about it, yeah?”
“Believe you me, I understand.” Rob went back to scratching at the armrest. “Jay, can I tell you something?”
Jason nodded.
“You can tell me if this is a load of bollocks, but… I’ll bet you’re wondering why I haven’t gotten back to anyone lately. Except you, of course.”
Jason nodded again, the corner of his mouth turning up in a curious smile. By that point he had his suspicions as to why he’d received a response when Mark hadn’t.
“Truth is, I was thinking about that time too,” Rob went on. “I remembered it was nice having those chats, talking through everything with someone who seemed to, y’know, understand it all on a level the other lads don’t always get, yeah?” He lifted a shoulder. “And I thought, well, why not try that again, see how it feels? Not that I'll be coming back, mind. I just assumed you’d be more interested in figuring me out than trying to drag me back.”
The uncannily accurate jest lodged itself somewhere in the back of Jason’s mind, shelved for him to dwell upon at a more convenient time. For now, he merely felt himself blush slightly as Rob gave him a mischievous smirk.
“I don’t think someone trying to convince you of that would do any of us any good,” Jason admitted. “Wasn’t in my plan, no. I suppose we both had similar reasons for wanting to chat, then.”
“Apparently so.” Rob’s smirk evolved into a cheeky grin that alleviated some of the oppressive gloom in Jason’s chest. “Look, mate, I’m not gonna tell you what to do or what not to do, but I am gonna tell you not to go rushing into anything right away. I know I’m the last person to be telling you to stick about when you’re feeling a way, but you’ve got time to figure it out, yeah?”
“I know,” Jason replied with a small sigh. “Just been in my head about it since you left, and I don’t want the others to start worrying. I don’t dare bring it up to any of them.”
Rob looked out the window for a moment, lips pursed, then back at Jason. “Here, how’s this for ya - if you start getting too wound up about all of it, how’s about you just give me a call? It’ll be just like the old days. That wasn’t so horrible, right?”
“I wouldn’t want to impose -”
“Nah,” Rob cut him off, waving one hand. “None of that. I’m not heading back for a little while at least - the missus has some stuff lined up keeping her busy here a while - so I may as well make myself useful. If you’d like, we can call it a thank you for bringing back that book.”
“It’s really not necessary,” Jason said weakly, though his heart was soaring. “But if you’re offering…”
“What’s it look like I’m doing?” Rob was grinning again, but after a moment his expression grew serious. “One thing, though - might be best not to tell the lads. Wouldn’t want to cause you any trouble.”
Jason was oddly touched by the consideration, though he knew that the band’s annoyance would potentially extend beyond him and onto Rob - which Rob was likely aware of as well. Still, Jason had no intention of sharing this with the others anyway.
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he said. “Really, this will probably help keep me from spilling everything to them. It's ah, win/win, I guess you might say.”
“There you have it. Our little secret, innit.”
Despite another flash of guilt at the idea of concealing something this significant from the rest of the band, Jason’s immense relief at finally having an outlet was enough to brighten his mood considerably. Whether his discussions with Rob would leave him feeling more or less settled about his career as a performer was yet to be seen, but at least now he had a path forward. And one with company, no less.
They didn’t actually spend much of the next two hours talking about band matters, instead nattering about anything and everything that had gone on in their lives during those years they hadn’t had much in the way of communication. It was as though, without the pressure of pretense in their interactions, they could now talk openly, as equals.
Jason got the sense that Rob appreciated it just as much as he did, if not more so, some of the trepidation that had shrouded him in the studio now lifted as he became more comfortable. He was a delight to talk to, his brain a fascinating tangle of a million thoughts a minute, and Jason greatly enjoyed picking through the snarl at leisure - just as much as Rob seemed to enjoy talking with someone who let him ramble at length.
By the time Rob remembered that he was meant to meet Ayda for dinner, Jason realised that he’d spent the entire afternoon engrossed in a conversation he hadn’t expected to have. Moreover, the conversation had been one of the most enriching chats he’d had the pleasure to enjoy in recent memory. With promises that he’d reach out should his ghosts become too much to bear alone, Jason bade Rob farewell and returned to his own hotel with more to think on than he’d gone in with.
Most engaging was his curiosity at how his own desires to step away were perceived - did Rob actually hope that he would make the choice to stick with the band when he himself hadn’t? Would Rob regard him with the same level of disappointment as the others if he backed away, as unfair as it would seem? And if so, why would Rob assume that Jason offered anything more beneficial to the group than he did, particularly given the broader scope of his contributions?
Jason chastised himself on that last thought as soon as it crossed his mind, remembering a variety of scolds he’d received from the others over the years on the subject of his own self-dismissal. It wasn’t as though he considered himself utterly useless in the band, but it felt like an objective truth to say that someone like Rob was at the very least more optically significant to Take That. What did the band stand to lose by being down one of the backing dancers?
He smiled a little, thinking about how outraged Mark would be to know that he was entertaining such thoughts. Sending out a little mental apology, Jason told himself that he didn’t really believe he was that dispensable; realistically, it was more of a justification for his wanderlust than self-deprecation.
Mark would likely be the first to remind him that Jason had always been on the frontlines of driving home how crucial the group dynamic was to their success. And, despite everything, Jason did stand by that assertion.
The only trouble was that the dynamic had been shattered again, and he wasn’t confident that the fissure would be quite so easy to repair this time around. What use was his belief in band unity when they’d already suffered such a recent loss? How much worse could it be if he left too?
That’s the devil talking, he thought. Funny how quick the anxieties could set back in. Glancing at his phone, he experienced the briefest urge to text Rob - but he’d only just gotten back to the hotel. Surely he could give him more than an hour or two of space.
Jason’s resistance lasted for about twenty minutes before caving.
- Sorry to bother you so soon after, but I’d like to get ahead of a busy schedule here. Shall we arrange something for next weekend?
It felt a bit like he was scheduling an appointment with a therapist - not so far from the truth, really - but he relished the idea of having something to look forward to. Better than sitting around and waiting until the demons grew so strong that he ran screaming from the studio to go bursting down Rob’s door in a panic.
- Can do mate. Come by mine any time in the afternoon on Saturday
The quick confirmation eased the knot in Jason’s chest. There, he had a planned space in which he’d be able to vent. Surely that meant he could keep his troubled ruminations in check until then and spare the rest of the band his dubious moods.
His phone buzzed again, and his heart leapt in hope that it might be Rob again - but no, this time it was Howard, asking if he had any plans the next evening. Despite a clear schedule, Jason invented a half-baked lie to claim he was busy, tempering his guilt with the excuse that he was still too raw after his discussion with Rob to go putting himself in a position where he might end up oversharing with Howard rather than Rob.
The very notion made him shudder, not least of all because of Howard’s (unintended) role in all of this mess. No, time alone with him would have to wait. At least for a little while.