'Nother Sip of Gin - Rhys Ford Page 0,1

up inside. What happens when one day it is him. What’s going to stop me from going over to punch the fucker in the face?”

“Shit, I’ll help you.” Damie set his guitar down, then slid over onto the mattress next to Miki, tucking what few pillows there were around them. “I’ll hold the bastard down while you go at him. Least I can do. Just leave enough of him for me when you run out of breath.”

“I’m the singer. Can’t run out of breath,” he teased, poking Damie in the ribs. “He always told me no one would believe me. I could tell anyone I wanted and they’d just hand me back to him. A couple did. Couple of the social workers said I was a liar and they couldn’t understand why I didn’t want to be fostered by a guy as great as him. Wish I could punch them too.”

“Hey, Sinjun, I promise you one thing… okay, maybe a lot of things, but definitely this one thing,” Damie murmured, pulling Miki in. It was too hot to be held, way too hot to even breathe, but Miki wouldn’t have dragged himself away from Damie even if they were on fire. “You and I… we’re in this. Forever. No matter what happens, no matter where we go, I’m always going to be your brother. We’re the only family we’ve got. Maybe all we’ll ever have, but no one’s ever going to touch you like that again. Unless you want them to.”

“Yeah, right,” Miki snorted, poking at Damie again until he yelped and jerked his side away. “Who the hell’s going to want some broken fucking asshole like me?”

“You’d be surprised, Sin. Hell, you’re going to have to beat people off with a baseball bat, especially once we start getting on the road.” Rubbing at his side, Damie snickered. “Just when you do fall in love, make sure it’s someone who understands he’s getting a package deal. Same thing for me. Can’t have one without getting the other, and if he’s not good for it, then he’s out.”

“You? Maybe.” Miki refuted. “Me? Not so much.”

“Trust me. You’re going to fall in love.” Cocking his head, Damie amended, “You might go kicking and screaming and biting, but you’ll find someone you can’t live without and God fucking help them. Hopefully it’ll be someone with their head on right. Maybe like a lawyer. Someone steady. Shit, with a huge family that’ll make you run screaming every time he says it’s time to go for a visit.”

“Yeah, fuck you, D,” he snorted, shoving Damie away. “Go back to your guitar, because the next thing out of your mouth will be I’m going to fall in love with some cop, and it’s going to be hard for you to get that transition right with all of those fingers I’m going to break.”

Damien’s Kirin

Tokyo—Damien Mitchell and Miki St. John

TOKYO WAS a tangle of lights, metal, cars, and a language Miki couldn’t understand to save his life, but the food was amazing and the crowds were incredible. They were scheduled to play four shows in Japan, sold-out crowds in every arena, but it was Tokyo they’d been waiting for.

Bukodan.

The night before had been… mind-blowing. Miki couldn’t imagine how their lives could get any better. Standing on a stage—a legendary stage—for the sound check, he’d been humbled and driven into an anxiety spiral only broken when Damien placed his hand in the middle of Miki’s back, pressing between his shoulder blades.

“If we sell out, I’ll get that tattoo I’ve always wanted,” his brother whispered beneath the buzz of the amps firing up behind them. “Dave hooked me up with this guy here in Tokyo that’s apparently this incredible tattoo artist. It’s really underground here, but if you know a guy who knows a guy, they will ink you. I’ve already talked to him on the phone, and I kind of want you to be there.”

“Where the fuck else would I be?” Miki snorted. “Even if we don’t sell out, do it. We’re fucking playing at Bukodan, D. The fact that we’re on this stage is… I don’t have any words, brother. Get the tattoo. I’ll be right there with you.”

His ears were still ringing, and just like any large show, every time he turned his head, Miki heard a buzz, an audible kiss left in his hearing from standing in front of stacks of amps. It was an occupational hazard at times, and he knew he should have