"i caught your set," he says, adjusting his glasses on the bridge of his nose. the grey in his hair has barely begun to form at the temples, and his eyes move between the four of them. "it's nice to finally meet everyone at once." he looks out of place beside them, his jeans not quite matching his suit jacket, or their hoodies and leather and flannel. alan wipes the sweat from his face with his forearm, popping onstage again just long enough to toss his drumsticks into the thin crowd, returning to them with a grin. "is this the biggest crowd you've had?" the air backstage suddenly seems heavy, and each of them can feel the others tense, the largest of the smiles, andy's, falling into a straight line as his lips press together. "you're too good for this few people." they're crammed into a booth at a diner in the middle of nowhere, but they find room for one more as he drags a chair to their table, blocking the waitress from a smooth transition between customers. his accent makes his transgression forgivable, and she sets a coffee near his hands with a vague blush. "you look thin," he says to andy, who shrugs as he makes a show of shoving a forkful of eggs from his otherwise full plate into his mouth and makes an excuse to go to the toilet for the second time that morning. they go silent until he returns, the sounds of others' conversations serve as the backing track for their breakfast: music by utensils. he arrives more cheerful, reaching for a glass of water and knocking over the salt in his hurry. when doug's plate arrives, he splits everything down the middle -- hashbrowns, eggs, bacon, pancakes -- and half lands on andy's plate. "no rush. we can go when you've finished." "you've received a reverse charge call from andy. will you accept the charges?" he says yes without actually listening, the receiver pressed to his ear as he rubs the sleep from his eyes. he can feel his husband stir beside him, mumbling something about the hour, but it's lost in the next sentence. "we broke up," andy says, and for a moment, he wonders if he's heard it correctly. the connection between london and los angeles is sometimes fuzzy, and with the time difference, it's too early for coherent thoughts. he says something more, something indistinguishable, and doug sits up in confusion. "what?" his voice is heavy with sleep, but he can hear the panic in andy's tone, even with the slurred words, hear him pacing back and forth in whatever room he's in. "where are you, andy? are you --" "for good. i just -- i left and she's got all of my things and i can't -- i can't go home. what do i -- i don't know --" there's a woman in the background, and her voice gets louder as andy's fades momentarily, her laughter drowning out what follows. he catches the words airport and sighs. "just -- stay there." he sighs again, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. they hit the floor and he wanders blindly towards the closet, shuffling his feet along the floor to find yesterday's trousers. "i'll come and get you." "are you sure this is a good idea? with your meds?" he says, but he doesn't take the cup from him, even as andy hesitates. he stirs his spoon, mixing in the honey in, then passing the jar across the table. "you stopped taking them." this is a statement, not a question, and he wonders if this explains the impulsive decision to release the song lyrics, a feat to which he had admitted between telephone calls, knowing that if harlowe knew, the rest of the world did as well. it was only a matter of time before the concerned friends began to reach out to the lifeline out in the wilderness. andy laughs instead, shaking his head. "not yet," but he's considered it. always considering it. "i'm sick of my cock not working, but harlowe can't do anything anyway so," he shrugs, dismissive. no point in worrying about it, the gesture seems to say, but he can see the lack of sincerity. "never thought i'd have to lie and say that i'm not up for it, even if i'm not … up for it," he laughs, this time the corners of the eyes wrinkle and he feels he can relax the urge to parent. "i should be alright with just a bit, and if i need more, i'll drink more. it'll be fine. the house is clean and it's beautiful outside so if it's a bad trip because of what i did, that's something to learn from as well. yours is well strong though. i wish i could strap a camera to you." he chuckles and knocks his glass against andy's. the matching teacups lift into the air and move towards mouths. "if this is some sort of weird bonding ritual, i'm into it," andy interrupts with a wink. "if you'd tried this years ago, i might've started listening to you sooner. but i reckon that would've made you a shit dad."