The difference between Scarlett and Will, Gunnar decided, was that Will still believed in him. Will understood that he needed to do this. No, he wasn't an outlaw, not anymore, but he needed to do this for his brother. It was barely even about him or his own music anymore. It was about proving something. Will understood all about that.
Better yet, Will didn't act like he was too good for him. Gunnar knew Scarlett didn't mean to, but working for Rayna just changed something about her, and Gunnar thought he was the only person who really saw that. Scarlett could have cashed in on being Deacon's niece years ago, but she never did, and Gunnar liked that about her. She was real. She was still real, just... different. But Will, he hadn't changed a bit, even though he had the very same fancy record deal. He still came to every one of Gunnar's shows, no matter what kind of sleazy dive bar the show was in.
And the show was always in a sleazy dive bar.
Gunnar didn't really like it, but it went with the image. At least he didn't get into any more brawls, and after a few more shows, the crowds of greasy drunk guys and women in too much makeup and too little clothes seemed to warm up to him.
The night he actually got more applause than boos was, ironically, the beginning of the end, in at least one way.
He'd blame it on the alcohol later, the same way Will had that first kiss. Gunnar blamed the alcohol, too, for the way he lashed out and punched him. He wasn't a homophobe; at least, he'd never thought he was. It wasn't like he could really think of a single other gay man he'd known, though statistically speaking, he supposed it was possible, even in Texas and Tennessee. It was just that Will assumed things about him that Gunnar didn't like to have assumed. Things Gunnar hadn't even thought about before Will.
Things Gunnar wouldn't have admitted to thinking about, sober or drunk.
They had moved on from that, though, and Gunnar didn't have the words to express how grateful he was to have Will by his side, on both the good and bad nights. When Gunnar finally stepped off the stage to nothing but applause and offers to buy him drinks, it was Will right by his side, sharing the drinks the cigarettes that he'd started smoking because they fit his image. It was Will who held him up and Will who he held up as they stumbled out onto the sidewalk after last call.
It was Will who he pulled into an alley and kissed desperately, liking the taste of beer and cigarettes on his tongue.
When he sobered up the next afternoon, he wrote it off as just a side effect of the alcohol and the electric energy of a good concert. Neither one of them spoke a word about it and that was just fine by Gunnar.
They didn't talk about it the second, third or fourth time that it happened, either. Not that Will really minded the silence, but he was starting to get a little curious. The questions he had were mostly for himself, though, and he sure as hell didn't have any answers. So he just let the same thing happen over and over, and the next day, kept his lips sealed tightly.
It wasn't always in an alley, though. Once it was in the bar's bathroom, a move that even Gunnar knew was stupid and dangerous. Once it was in Will's kitchen, before Gunnar crashed on the couch like he'd been doing more and more. Scarlett hadn't officially kicked him out, but she might as well have, and it seemed like every day more of his things ended up at Will's place.
The fourth time they'd barely made it in the door before Gunnar was tugging on Will's shirt, pulling him up to press their lips together. It was something about the motorcycle ride back and the way Will didn't even bother asking, like he usually did, if Gunnar was going to spend the night. Something about all that, but mostly something about having his body pressed right up against Will's back, made Gunnar ache for the feel of his lips even more than he had before.
They fell into a heap of hot, sweaty limps on the couch, and that was where Gunnar's knowledge of what to do ran out. Will took the lead, then, his hands dancing as expertly over Gunnar's flesh as they did his guitar. The moans he pulled out of Gunnar's mouth might as well have been music, too.
Will slid to his knees in front of Gunnar, hitting the carpet with a soft thud, and Gunnar didn't need to ask what he was doing. Even with a few beers in his bloodstream, he was smart enough to figure that out. At the very first touch without jeans and boxers in the way, Gunnar's hips bucked up like they had a mind of their own. Will's hand was hot against his skin, but his mouth was even hotter, and his tongue moved in ways Gunnar couldn't have even imagined. He tried not to think about Scarlett downstairs as stars danced behind his eyelids and Will's head bobbed up and down in his lap.
When it was over, when Gunnar had reluctantly watched Will lick him clean then slither back up his body for a quick kiss that still mostly tasted of cigarettes, they went to bed separately. He woke up the next morning to a pot of lukewarm coffee and a note that Will had a meeting with the record label. Gunnar poured himself a cup and sat at the kitchen table, staring at the wall.
For the first time in weeks, he felt like writing a song of his own.