Chapter Text
Wait for me, he said
For I must find my true self
Find what my heart desires
Will you wait for me?
I will wait for you, I call to the heavens
And pray that you hear my voice
If I have to wait a thousand years
I will wait and every night call to the stars
That you hear my voice
Wait for me, he said
And I will wait a thousand years and a thousand more.
***********************************
“Right, that’s it, he’s late again. Jacey, put that sign in the window.”
“Jan, where are you going to find an experienced bartender by putting a wanted sign in the window. It took you three months to find Rick.”
“I don’t care, he’s taking the Michael. If I have to train someone, I will. Hell, I’ll take the first person that walks in and asks. When Rick finally shows his face, tell I want him and his stuff out of the apartment and him gone before I come in tonight.”
The next day, Jan was busy putting out new stock, when someone cleared their throat. She turned and standing at the bar was a man with a shock of red hair and really intense blue eyes.
“Can I help you?” she said.
“Actually, I can help you,” the man said. “Whoever deals with your stock is skimming you. That bourbon has been watered down. Taste it if you don’t believe me.”
For some reason she did just that…Rick, the bastard.
“You a bartender?”
“No, but I know my way round a bar,” the man replied. “ I saw the sign in the window.”
“Show me what you know,” she said.
She was impressed as the man made various drinks, and she studied him as he did.
He was British…well the accent kind of gave that away. He wasn’t tall, but his frame went with his fine features and his pale skin. He wasn’t a
tourist, or he wouldn’t be asking for a job. But he wasn’t homeless either, judging by his clothes, although not new, they were clean and neat.
“Good enough?” the man said, raising an eyebrow.
“You willing to learn?” she replied.
The man nodded.
“Then I’m Jan Stevens, I own this place. And you are?”
“Matthew Bellamy.”
“Well, Matthew Bellamy, you alright to start tonight?”
“Sure, and its Matt.”
“In that case Matt, I just need your work visa and bank account details.”
Matt nodded and took a backpack off his shoulder and began rummaging in it.
Jan watched as various bits and piece were placed on the bar, and she smiled when he began muttering something about black holes being
easier to find something in…she liked him already.
“Ha!” Matt suddenly shouted and produced a smaller bag, then handed her two documents and what looked like a letter of some sort.
She glanced at the documents; they seemed in order, then she opened the letter.
“My health insurance details,” Matt said, and she noted that he sounded nervous.
“I had an accident last year, there was some…..damage. If you don’t want to hire me, then I’ll understand.”
Jan held up her hand. She wasn’t going to ask what sort of damage, she could see a patch of hair that wasn’t as well grown as the rest, and
could guess what sort of damage, and that he had a slight limp when he moved.
But, he seemed genuine and she had a pretty good feel for people.
“Why wouldn’t I hire you?”
“I can get a little mouthy sometimes.”
“No problem, you need that here at times.”
“I mean really mouthy.”
“Like I said, you need that here sometimes, and my staff have thick skins, so there’ll be no offense taken.”
She could see the relief on his face.
“The job comes with an apartment, if you need it. I’m afraid you’ll be tossed in at the deep end, its Friday night and its music night…hence the need to be mouthy sometimes. Let me show the apartment.”
*********************
“How the hell is that even possible. His face has been all over the news and they think he’s not in the country anymore!?”
“They did say that someone resembling Matt was seen leaving JFK airport.”
“That was two bloody weeks ago, and they’re only just telling us!”
“Dom, Matt is an adult, they can’t just stop him because he did a runner,” Chris said.
Dom was angry and stressed.
He was angry at the police, anyone who’d had the chance to find and stop Matt, but he was angry with Matt, so bloody angry.
Why had he run again? Why couldn’t he stay and talk?
He would have given Matt his space, all the bloody time in the world. He was angry that Matt hadn’t told anyone about his memory loss. How much had he forgotten, or was it just what had happened between them?
He slumped into a chair and put his head in his hands; this was like reliving those six months again.
He felt Chris’s arm round his shoulders.
“He ran Chris, why did he do that? We could have helped him…I could’ve helped him.”
“Dom, you know what Matt is like, how he hates confrontation. He said wait for me, that means he’ll be back.”
“What if he doesn’t…what if something happens….what if he’s happy wherever he is?”
“Enough,” Chris said. “He won’t be able to stay away, the band is his life, the music, and hell, you’re his life.”
Dom looked up then.
“How can you be sure?”
“Mate, I’ve watched you two dance around each other for bloody twenty years. That crazy little twat lives and breathes for your approval. Haven’t you noticed it’s always you he comes to when he has a new song or music? How if you didn’t like it, he scraps it or changes it?”
“He asks you as well.”
“Yeah, but only when he already knows it’s good enough. But it’s you he really listens to…not me, or a producer, you. So, he will come back, but we’ll still keep looking for him, and just so you know, I am going to kick his arse when he finally shows his mug.”