This Is Spinal Tap - Gold (12)
Heavy rain pounded against the café roof as the band sat by the window, the pale grey skies outside casting a feeble glow across the tabletop as the sun endeavoured to shine through the downpour. Halfway through the European leg of their current tour, the band were in some unpronounceable area of who-knew-what country, their memories blurred by nightly gigs and alcohol and lack of sleep. On route to the hotel booked for a rare night off, the tourbus driver had deemed the weather too dangerous to drive in more than necessary until it had settled down, and so upon reaching the nearest roadside café, they'd all voted to get inside and get some food while they had the opportunity.
Within a couple of minutes of said food arriving however, the entire company had changed their minds, blaming the strange language in the laminated menus on their sudden lack of appetite.
"I just don't know what it is, you know?" muttered Nigel, lifting the beige semi-solid mixture out of his bowl with his spoon, and allowing it to fall back in with a slop. "How am I supposed to know what I'm ordering when it's not in English?" He let the spoon handle rest against the edge of the bowl, propping his chin on his hands and staring glumly out of the window.
"Have you tried it?" Ian asked.
Nigel hesitated. "Well, no," he muttered, "but I wouldn't like it anyway, I can tell from looking at it."
"You should try it," the manager persisted, with the tone of a parent trying to coax a two-year-old to eat a meal with the appearance and texture of vomit. "You might be pleasantly surprised, if you just give it a try."
The guitarist looked back down at his meal before staring at the manager. "No, I don't think I will. Anyway, you didn't even order anything, I dunno why I should have to eat this."
"I'm not hungry, Nigel."
"No, neither am I now."
The band sat in silence for a moment, the only sound being the constant rattle of raindrops against the roof.
"Anyone know when it's supposed to stop?" Derek asked while gazing out at the rain, breaking the silence. He was answered by a few dismissive grunts from the roadcrew. "No, then."
"That's a shame," Nigel sighed, the light coming through the rain casting a bronze glow across his face by the window. "I'd quite liked to have gone looking for the leprechauns."
Ian lightly coughed, before quietly asking, "What leprechauns?"
"Out there," the guitarist muttered as though the answer was obvious, flicking his hand towards the pane of glass. "At the end of that rainbow." Everyone peered out, noting that a faint rainbow had indeed appeared in the rain.
"Nigel," Derek spoke, "I don't want to disappoint you, but there aren't any leprechauns at the end of the rainbow."
"Of course there are! Otherwise who would look after the gold?"
"What gold?" David asked, his expression bemused.
"The gold at the end of the rainbow!" Nigel looked around at the blank faces staring back at him. "Didn't your mum ever tell you about it? There's always a big pot of gold at the end of rainbows, except they're supposed to be really hard to get to."
A quiet snigger from one of the crew was the only sound in the subsequent silence.
"That's because the rainbow's not actually there," Ian eventually said, as though delicately telling a child that Father Christmas isn't real. "It's just the light reflecting off the rain, it's not a solid thing you can just walk up to."
"Have you tried it?"
"No Nigel, I haven't tried," the manager sighed, not missing the echo from his own earlier words. "To be perfectly frank, I've got better things to be doing than chasing rainbows."
"I haven't," Nigel grimaced. "We're stuck here ‘til it stops raining, we've got no gigs for another two days, I haven't got anything better to do. So," he continued, standing up from his seat and pulling his leather jacket on, "I'm going to go and get that one there." He inclined his head to the multi-coloured arc hanging in the sky outside and shuffled past the other chairs.
"Nigel," Ian cried, "don't be stupid! Come and sit back down!"
The guitarist paused for a moment, turning round and looking thoughtfully at the floor. "No," he said, looking up. "I don't think I will." He turned round and continued his route to the door, letting it fall shut behind him with a heavy thud.
"Shit!" Ian muttered under his breath, as the rest of the band and crew sat with blank expressions. "Why does he have to act so childish?"
David watched their manager's exasperated face. "Look, I'll go and get him," he sighed, standing and pulling on his own jacket. Ian merely shrugged his shoulders and let him follow.
Heading through the door, David was surprised by how heavily it was still raining, for how light the sky was. As the distant cloud became thinner, the sun cast a warm orange glow through the rain just above the horizon, giving everything a golden hue. Nonetheless, the rain still fell and David pulled the collar on his velvet jacket higher around his neck to keep the chill out, before shoving his hands in his pockets, wishing he had something more substantial to keep the rain out.
Casting his eyes around the café car park, empty except for two cars and their tourbus, he saw Nigel walking towards the road, his head down with a look of determination in his stride, slightly blurred in the downpour.
"Nige!"
Hearing his name, the brunette cast his head back towards the café, squinting to look for the owner of the voice. He was slightly relieved to see that it was David as opposed to Ian, but nonetheless called back across the tarmac car park, "I'm not coming back in!" as he continued walking.
"Just wait there then!" came the reply.
Sighing, Nigel reluctantly obeyed, humouring the other man.
"What are you doing?" David asked once he'd caught up.
"Going to get that rainbow," the brunette said, rolling his eyes.
"You really can't do that, you know."
"Watch me!" Nigel turned to walk away again, before David caught his shoulder and turned him back.
"That's not what I mean, Nigel! You physically can't do it, Ian was right."
Nigel looked up at David, his expression sincere. "It doesn't mean I can't try."
The confusion was obvious on David's face, his eyebrows scrunching together in scrutiny. "What does that mean?"
"Just because you can't reach something doesn't mean you shouldn't try," Nigel quietly said. "Maybe some people can look at things they want to do and think, ‘Oh, I can't do that, I'd better not even have a go,' but I can't. I'm fed up of living on a bus, of not getting out, of not having time for me to do what I want, and even if I can't ever get to that rainbow, I'm going to try."
David watched Nigel's defiant expression with a neutral face. As ridiculous as the man's reasoning was, he couldn't help but agree with it. After all, if they'd believed it every time the two of them had been told as teenagers that they'd never play in a band for a living or amount to anything, and not tried as a result, then they wouldn't be where they were now. Where's the fun in not bothering with dreams just because they'd never come true, anyway? Frowning in thought, he inclined his head in a slight nod. "Fine. But I'm coming with you."
"Fine," Nigel replied smartly and continued walking, with David now hurrying to keep up with him as he avoided the puddles on the tarmac.
"So," the blond asked as they came up to the road, "what way are we going?"
"That way," Nigel replied, pointing straight ahead in the direction of the rainbow. It appeared to hang in the sky over a patchwork of fields and woodland, separated from themselves by the road in front of them. It was obviously some sort of main road linking towns together, and whilst it wasn't as busy as it might have been there was still a car shooting past them every few seconds, splashing water onto the grassy verge.
David looked down the road in both directions, not seeing any sort of safe point to cross, and not keen on trudging down the muddy roadsides to find somewhere. "And where do we cross?" he muttered.
Nigel briefly looked in each direction of the traffic, before suddenly shouting "Here!" and grabbing the singer's hand to jerk him across the road, dodging cars all the way.
"Nige!" David cried with short breath once they reached the other side.
"What? This way!" He started walking toward a narrow footpath between two cropfields, leaving David to follow, still catching his breath.
Trudging into the muddy footpath, the blond began to wonder if he'd made the right decision in following.
Within a couple of minutes of said food arriving however, the entire company had changed their minds, blaming the strange language in the laminated menus on their sudden lack of appetite.
"I just don't know what it is, you know?" muttered Nigel, lifting the beige semi-solid mixture out of his bowl with his spoon, and allowing it to fall back in with a slop. "How am I supposed to know what I'm ordering when it's not in English?" He let the spoon handle rest against the edge of the bowl, propping his chin on his hands and staring glumly out of the window.
"Have you tried it?" Ian asked.
Nigel hesitated. "Well, no," he muttered, "but I wouldn't like it anyway, I can tell from looking at it."
"You should try it," the manager persisted, with the tone of a parent trying to coax a two-year-old to eat a meal with the appearance and texture of vomit. "You might be pleasantly surprised, if you just give it a try."
The guitarist looked back down at his meal before staring at the manager. "No, I don't think I will. Anyway, you didn't even order anything, I dunno why I should have to eat this."
"I'm not hungry, Nigel."
"No, neither am I now."
The band sat in silence for a moment, the only sound being the constant rattle of raindrops against the roof.
"Anyone know when it's supposed to stop?" Derek asked while gazing out at the rain, breaking the silence. He was answered by a few dismissive grunts from the roadcrew. "No, then."
"That's a shame," Nigel sighed, the light coming through the rain casting a bronze glow across his face by the window. "I'd quite liked to have gone looking for the leprechauns."
Ian lightly coughed, before quietly asking, "What leprechauns?"
"Out there," the guitarist muttered as though the answer was obvious, flicking his hand towards the pane of glass. "At the end of that rainbow." Everyone peered out, noting that a faint rainbow had indeed appeared in the rain.
"Nigel," Derek spoke, "I don't want to disappoint you, but there aren't any leprechauns at the end of the rainbow."
"Of course there are! Otherwise who would look after the gold?"
"What gold?" David asked, his expression bemused.
"The gold at the end of the rainbow!" Nigel looked around at the blank faces staring back at him. "Didn't your mum ever tell you about it? There's always a big pot of gold at the end of rainbows, except they're supposed to be really hard to get to."
A quiet snigger from one of the crew was the only sound in the subsequent silence.
"That's because the rainbow's not actually there," Ian eventually said, as though delicately telling a child that Father Christmas isn't real. "It's just the light reflecting off the rain, it's not a solid thing you can just walk up to."
"Have you tried it?"
"No Nigel, I haven't tried," the manager sighed, not missing the echo from his own earlier words. "To be perfectly frank, I've got better things to be doing than chasing rainbows."
"I haven't," Nigel grimaced. "We're stuck here ‘til it stops raining, we've got no gigs for another two days, I haven't got anything better to do. So," he continued, standing up from his seat and pulling his leather jacket on, "I'm going to go and get that one there." He inclined his head to the multi-coloured arc hanging in the sky outside and shuffled past the other chairs.
"Nigel," Ian cried, "don't be stupid! Come and sit back down!"
The guitarist paused for a moment, turning round and looking thoughtfully at the floor. "No," he said, looking up. "I don't think I will." He turned round and continued his route to the door, letting it fall shut behind him with a heavy thud.
"Shit!" Ian muttered under his breath, as the rest of the band and crew sat with blank expressions. "Why does he have to act so childish?"
David watched their manager's exasperated face. "Look, I'll go and get him," he sighed, standing and pulling on his own jacket. Ian merely shrugged his shoulders and let him follow.
Heading through the door, David was surprised by how heavily it was still raining, for how light the sky was. As the distant cloud became thinner, the sun cast a warm orange glow through the rain just above the horizon, giving everything a golden hue. Nonetheless, the rain still fell and David pulled the collar on his velvet jacket higher around his neck to keep the chill out, before shoving his hands in his pockets, wishing he had something more substantial to keep the rain out.
Casting his eyes around the café car park, empty except for two cars and their tourbus, he saw Nigel walking towards the road, his head down with a look of determination in his stride, slightly blurred in the downpour.
"Nige!"
Hearing his name, the brunette cast his head back towards the café, squinting to look for the owner of the voice. He was slightly relieved to see that it was David as opposed to Ian, but nonetheless called back across the tarmac car park, "I'm not coming back in!" as he continued walking.
"Just wait there then!" came the reply.
Sighing, Nigel reluctantly obeyed, humouring the other man.
"What are you doing?" David asked once he'd caught up.
"Going to get that rainbow," the brunette said, rolling his eyes.
"You really can't do that, you know."
"Watch me!" Nigel turned to walk away again, before David caught his shoulder and turned him back.
"That's not what I mean, Nigel! You physically can't do it, Ian was right."
Nigel looked up at David, his expression sincere. "It doesn't mean I can't try."
The confusion was obvious on David's face, his eyebrows scrunching together in scrutiny. "What does that mean?"
"Just because you can't reach something doesn't mean you shouldn't try," Nigel quietly said. "Maybe some people can look at things they want to do and think, ‘Oh, I can't do that, I'd better not even have a go,' but I can't. I'm fed up of living on a bus, of not getting out, of not having time for me to do what I want, and even if I can't ever get to that rainbow, I'm going to try."
David watched Nigel's defiant expression with a neutral face. As ridiculous as the man's reasoning was, he couldn't help but agree with it. After all, if they'd believed it every time the two of them had been told as teenagers that they'd never play in a band for a living or amount to anything, and not tried as a result, then they wouldn't be where they were now. Where's the fun in not bothering with dreams just because they'd never come true, anyway? Frowning in thought, he inclined his head in a slight nod. "Fine. But I'm coming with you."
"Fine," Nigel replied smartly and continued walking, with David now hurrying to keep up with him as he avoided the puddles on the tarmac.
"So," the blond asked as they came up to the road, "what way are we going?"
"That way," Nigel replied, pointing straight ahead in the direction of the rainbow. It appeared to hang in the sky over a patchwork of fields and woodland, separated from themselves by the road in front of them. It was obviously some sort of main road linking towns together, and whilst it wasn't as busy as it might have been there was still a car shooting past them every few seconds, splashing water onto the grassy verge.
David looked down the road in both directions, not seeing any sort of safe point to cross, and not keen on trudging down the muddy roadsides to find somewhere. "And where do we cross?" he muttered.
Nigel briefly looked in each direction of the traffic, before suddenly shouting "Here!" and grabbing the singer's hand to jerk him across the road, dodging cars all the way.
"Nige!" David cried with short breath once they reached the other side.
"What? This way!" He started walking toward a narrow footpath between two cropfields, leaving David to follow, still catching his breath.
Trudging into the muddy footpath, the blond began to wonder if he'd made the right decision in following.
"I hate to say this, Ian," Derek mumbled, looking out of the window, "but they've gone."
"Gone?"
"Yeah. They've just crossed the road."
"David too?"
"Yeah."
"Damn."
Derek moved away from the window and sat back down between Mick and Viv. "So," he began quietly, after a pause. "Who's going after them?" All three stared at Ian, expectedly.
Ian gazed at the window in contemplation for a few seconds, before turning away. "No-one." He ignored Derek's astonished sigh. "They'll be back. I'm not running after them like some babysitter chasing children this time. They can find their own way back."
"Ian," Derek muttered in hushed disbelief. "Do you think that's a good idea?"
"They'll come back as soon as they realise they don't know where to go," the manager said, waving a hand in apathy.
The three musicians looked at each other uneasily.
"Gone?"
"Yeah. They've just crossed the road."
"David too?"
"Yeah."
"Damn."
Derek moved away from the window and sat back down between Mick and Viv. "So," he began quietly, after a pause. "Who's going after them?" All three stared at Ian, expectedly.
Ian gazed at the window in contemplation for a few seconds, before turning away. "No-one." He ignored Derek's astonished sigh. "They'll be back. I'm not running after them like some babysitter chasing children this time. They can find their own way back."
"Ian," Derek muttered in hushed disbelief. "Do you think that's a good idea?"
"They'll come back as soon as they realise they don't know where to go," the manager said, waving a hand in apathy.
The three musicians looked at each other uneasily.
"Nigel, my feet ache."
"I don't think it's far now."
"We're not going to catch up with it."
"I don't care, we're still following it."
"We've been walking for nearly two hours!"
"We must be getting close then."
"Nigel!"
The brunette turned around in the enclosed woodland pathway to face his bandmate, who was bent over, hands pressing against his thighs, trying to catch his breath.
"What?"
"Just give me a moment, alright? I'd have worn hiking boots if I'd known we were going to be doing this," David muttered, looking down at his ruined Cuban heels.
"Alright," Nigel replied, before leaning back against a tree. They stood in a narrow pathway, somewhat sheltered by the wide leaves of the dense trees hanging overhead, keeping the worst of the rain off the musicians. The ground below them was still a soggy trail of mud however, in which the ability to walk was made more difficult by the lack of light penetrating the dense foliage. However, at the sparse intervals in the trees where some rays had succeeded in breaking through, the sky was looking lighter, although it was difficult to tell whether the rain was easing up or not.
David considered this as he stood up, stretching. "How do you know the rainbow's even still there?"
Nigel looked thoughtful for a moment, his mouth screwing up in deliberation. "I don't," he finally replied. "We'll find out when we get out of these trees."
"And how long with that be?" David asked rhetorically, sighing with exhaustion.
"Oh, not long," Nigel replied, unexpectedly.
"How do you know?"
The guitarist grinned smugly. "Because there's light ahead." He pointed further down the pathway where, true to his words, light was clearly visible no more than twenty yards away.
"Alright then," David said with a wry grin. "Let's go."
With the knowledge of sunlight not far away, the musicians continued with a new sense of energy. Nigel bounded ahead with excitement, rambling on again about rainbows and leprechauns and gold. Turning back to David, he walked backwards as sunlight shone down upon his head once more, and a detached sense of surprise hit him when the blond's eyes shot wide open and his own feet lost their grip on the muddy ground.
David had seen the open quarry just as his bandmate's feet came to the slick mud at the edge of it and, seeing his arms pinwheel in panic, he grabbed onto whatever part of Nigel that he could, grasping his damp t-shirt in a fist with a cry. He immediately felt his own feet loose purchase on the ground from Nigel's weight dragging them both forward and, as the two of them hurtled down the steep, slick, thirty-foot slope, the thought briefly crossed his mind that he didn't want to chase rainbows anymore.
"I don't think it's far now."
"We're not going to catch up with it."
"I don't care, we're still following it."
"We've been walking for nearly two hours!"
"We must be getting close then."
"Nigel!"
The brunette turned around in the enclosed woodland pathway to face his bandmate, who was bent over, hands pressing against his thighs, trying to catch his breath.
"What?"
"Just give me a moment, alright? I'd have worn hiking boots if I'd known we were going to be doing this," David muttered, looking down at his ruined Cuban heels.
"Alright," Nigel replied, before leaning back against a tree. They stood in a narrow pathway, somewhat sheltered by the wide leaves of the dense trees hanging overhead, keeping the worst of the rain off the musicians. The ground below them was still a soggy trail of mud however, in which the ability to walk was made more difficult by the lack of light penetrating the dense foliage. However, at the sparse intervals in the trees where some rays had succeeded in breaking through, the sky was looking lighter, although it was difficult to tell whether the rain was easing up or not.
David considered this as he stood up, stretching. "How do you know the rainbow's even still there?"
Nigel looked thoughtful for a moment, his mouth screwing up in deliberation. "I don't," he finally replied. "We'll find out when we get out of these trees."
"And how long with that be?" David asked rhetorically, sighing with exhaustion.
"Oh, not long," Nigel replied, unexpectedly.
"How do you know?"
The guitarist grinned smugly. "Because there's light ahead." He pointed further down the pathway where, true to his words, light was clearly visible no more than twenty yards away.
"Alright then," David said with a wry grin. "Let's go."
With the knowledge of sunlight not far away, the musicians continued with a new sense of energy. Nigel bounded ahead with excitement, rambling on again about rainbows and leprechauns and gold. Turning back to David, he walked backwards as sunlight shone down upon his head once more, and a detached sense of surprise hit him when the blond's eyes shot wide open and his own feet lost their grip on the muddy ground.
David had seen the open quarry just as his bandmate's feet came to the slick mud at the edge of it and, seeing his arms pinwheel in panic, he grabbed onto whatever part of Nigel that he could, grasping his damp t-shirt in a fist with a cry. He immediately felt his own feet loose purchase on the ground from Nigel's weight dragging them both forward and, as the two of them hurtled down the steep, slick, thirty-foot slope, the thought briefly crossed his mind that he didn't want to chase rainbows anymore.
"I really think we should send someone out there to look for them, now."
Ian stared blankly at the same café table, pretending he hadn't heard Derek's voice.
"Ian? Are you listening?"
"Where are they going to be?" the manager asked with a sigh, lifting his head up to look at the bassist. "Where are we supposed to look? Who's to say that they won't turn up here as soon as we leave if we look for them?"
"Bugger you," Derek huffed, walking away from Ian to join Mick and Viv who were leaning against the counter, the former playing with straws from the dispenser.
"What did he say?" the keyboardist asked, noting Derek's frustrated body language.
"He says even if we went, we wouldn't know where to look for them."
"He's got a point, you know," Mick chirped in, tearing at the paper wrapper of the straw in his hand.
"It can't be that hard to find them, they just followed the rainbow, right?" Derek sighed. "Just straight ahead."
"Mmm," Viv mumbled in agreement. "But we don't know what's there. It might go to a village or something, they might've just gotten distracted."
Derek's eyebrows creased up in thought, before he suddenly turned to the man at the cash register. "Excuse me," he asked, getting the man's attention. "What's out there?" He pointed out of the window.
The man looked at him with confusion on his face.
Guessing that his English wasn't perfect, Derek tried again, slower. "Out there? What is there?"
"Ah!" the man exclaimed in understanding. "Car park."
"No," Derek sighed. "Uhmmm... Over there." He waved his arms around more dramatically, pointing right across the car park to the other side.
"Oh. Different things. Ah... trees, fields." The man waved his hands, palms down, across imaginary crops. "Farms, and..." Confusion showed on his face once more, as he started gesturing with his hands, miming some sort of deep hole.
"Bucket?" Viv suggested.
"No," the man muttered, still trying to describe with his hands. "Big, ah... Men dig, take earth –"
"A quarry?" Mick asked, his face serious,
"Yes! I think ‘quarry', in English." The man had an accomplished grin. "Why ask? You don't go now, because the rain – danger now."
Derek swore. "We need to go. Our friends went –" he pointed across the car park, "two hours ago. Two hours earlier."
"Two hours... They go to the quarry?"
"I don't know." Derek said, helplessly.
The man at the register paused for a second. "We need go look. The quarry – it's old, no-one use. No people. Very danger."
The bassist went pale.
"It's okay," the man continued, walking to a phone on the counter against a wall. "I call help. We go. It's okay."
"Thankyou!" Derek cried, rushing back to their table to grab his coat. "Ian! We need to go."
"Derek, I already told you –"
"No, they might be in trouble," the bassist continued, interrupting Ian. "Apparently there's an old disused quarry over there somewhere, even the bloke on the till's worried. He's calling for help."
Ian paused, staring at Derek. "Alright. Alright, we'll go." He stood up suddenly, turning to the crew and telling them to stay at the café in case the pair got back.
"Let's go."
Ian stared blankly at the same café table, pretending he hadn't heard Derek's voice.
"Ian? Are you listening?"
"Where are they going to be?" the manager asked with a sigh, lifting his head up to look at the bassist. "Where are we supposed to look? Who's to say that they won't turn up here as soon as we leave if we look for them?"
"Bugger you," Derek huffed, walking away from Ian to join Mick and Viv who were leaning against the counter, the former playing with straws from the dispenser.
"What did he say?" the keyboardist asked, noting Derek's frustrated body language.
"He says even if we went, we wouldn't know where to look for them."
"He's got a point, you know," Mick chirped in, tearing at the paper wrapper of the straw in his hand.
"It can't be that hard to find them, they just followed the rainbow, right?" Derek sighed. "Just straight ahead."
"Mmm," Viv mumbled in agreement. "But we don't know what's there. It might go to a village or something, they might've just gotten distracted."
Derek's eyebrows creased up in thought, before he suddenly turned to the man at the cash register. "Excuse me," he asked, getting the man's attention. "What's out there?" He pointed out of the window.
The man looked at him with confusion on his face.
Guessing that his English wasn't perfect, Derek tried again, slower. "Out there? What is there?"
"Ah!" the man exclaimed in understanding. "Car park."
"No," Derek sighed. "Uhmmm... Over there." He waved his arms around more dramatically, pointing right across the car park to the other side.
"Oh. Different things. Ah... trees, fields." The man waved his hands, palms down, across imaginary crops. "Farms, and..." Confusion showed on his face once more, as he started gesturing with his hands, miming some sort of deep hole.
"Bucket?" Viv suggested.
"No," the man muttered, still trying to describe with his hands. "Big, ah... Men dig, take earth –"
"A quarry?" Mick asked, his face serious,
"Yes! I think ‘quarry', in English." The man had an accomplished grin. "Why ask? You don't go now, because the rain – danger now."
Derek swore. "We need to go. Our friends went –" he pointed across the car park, "two hours ago. Two hours earlier."
"Two hours... They go to the quarry?"
"I don't know." Derek said, helplessly.
The man at the register paused for a second. "We need go look. The quarry – it's old, no-one use. No people. Very danger."
The bassist went pale.
"It's okay," the man continued, walking to a phone on the counter against a wall. "I call help. We go. It's okay."
"Thankyou!" Derek cried, rushing back to their table to grab his coat. "Ian! We need to go."
"Derek, I already told you –"
"No, they might be in trouble," the bassist continued, interrupting Ian. "Apparently there's an old disused quarry over there somewhere, even the bloke on the till's worried. He's calling for help."
Ian paused, staring at Derek. "Alright. Alright, we'll go." He stood up suddenly, turning to the crew and telling them to stay at the café in case the pair got back.
"Let's go."
"David... Dave!"
He heard someone muttering near him, and felt a damp, callused hand holding the side of his face up, making his neck ache.
"Oi! David!"
The muttering came again, with the awareness of being cold, wet and slimy, like lying fully-clothed on one's side in a bath full of seaweed.
"Dave, wake up, you pillock! Do you want to bloody drown?"
David opened his eyes, before wondering if perhaps it would have been better if he hadn't. He was lying on his side on a lake, the brownish expanse of the water spread out before him, and he realised that the hand under his cheek was holding his face out of the water. Dazed, he looked up and saw Nigel, sat leaning over his face, his clothes and hair half-caked in mud and his expression a mixture of concern and relief.
"Thank God! I thought you were dead for a minute back there," Nigel sighed.
"Oh," David replied blankly, his head pounding. "Nigel, why are we on a lake?"
"It's not a lake, it's a puddle," the guitarist replied, his palm still resting against his bandmate's cheek. "We're in a big hole, it looks like an old quarry or something."
Recollection dawned on David's face. "The quarry. Right." He slowly struggled to sit up, with Nigel helping him wherever needed.
Looking around himself, he saw that they were in what looked like a huge square chamber set into the ground, with thirty-foot walls of reddish brown mud on every side. True to Nigel's words, David realised that they were indeed sitting in a huge puddle spanning the ground from wall to muddy wall, which was, he guessed by the cold water up almost over his legs, about three inches deep. Looking directly up, sunlight shone down upon the pair, although the rain still fell heavily, splashing in the muddy water around them.
"Nigel," David muttered wearily whilst shifting uncomfortably in his soaking wet clothes. "I hate to say this, but I've changed my mind about chasing rainbows."
"Me too," the brunette mumbled sheepishly. "Are you alright?"
David squeezed his eyes shut, and pressed his fingertips to his temples. "I think so. I've got terrible headache, though." He opened his eyes and looked at Nigel, sitting next to him in the mud. "And I think I've done something to my shoulder. What about you?"
"I've really done something to my ankle, tried to stand on it just now and I fell over. I must have landed on it coming down." He wryly looked up at the steep mud wall behind them.
The singer followed his gaze, sighing in defeat. "We can't get out, can we?"
"Not unless you've got a ladder on you, no."
David shook his head and leaned back against the quarry wall, sighing with exhaustion. "I wonder if anyone's coming to find us."
Nigel shrugged. "Knowing Ian, I really don't know. God!" he exclaimed. "Why did I have to be so childish in the café?"
"Because that's a part of you," David replied, smirking good-naturedly.
"What if no-one looks for us though, because I was being so bloody immature? They're probably just waiting for me realise that they were right all along and go dragging myself back in there again. What if no-one comes to find us?"
"Nige," David quietly interrupted as he saw the panic on his bandmate's face, "someone will come. They can hardly just go without us, can they?"
Nigel watched David's sincere expression, trusting what the man had said because there was nothing else he could do. "I suppose you're right," he muttered, shivering. "I hope they don't take too long, though."
He heard someone muttering near him, and felt a damp, callused hand holding the side of his face up, making his neck ache.
"Oi! David!"
The muttering came again, with the awareness of being cold, wet and slimy, like lying fully-clothed on one's side in a bath full of seaweed.
"Dave, wake up, you pillock! Do you want to bloody drown?"
David opened his eyes, before wondering if perhaps it would have been better if he hadn't. He was lying on his side on a lake, the brownish expanse of the water spread out before him, and he realised that the hand under his cheek was holding his face out of the water. Dazed, he looked up and saw Nigel, sat leaning over his face, his clothes and hair half-caked in mud and his expression a mixture of concern and relief.
"Thank God! I thought you were dead for a minute back there," Nigel sighed.
"Oh," David replied blankly, his head pounding. "Nigel, why are we on a lake?"
"It's not a lake, it's a puddle," the guitarist replied, his palm still resting against his bandmate's cheek. "We're in a big hole, it looks like an old quarry or something."
Recollection dawned on David's face. "The quarry. Right." He slowly struggled to sit up, with Nigel helping him wherever needed.
Looking around himself, he saw that they were in what looked like a huge square chamber set into the ground, with thirty-foot walls of reddish brown mud on every side. True to Nigel's words, David realised that they were indeed sitting in a huge puddle spanning the ground from wall to muddy wall, which was, he guessed by the cold water up almost over his legs, about three inches deep. Looking directly up, sunlight shone down upon the pair, although the rain still fell heavily, splashing in the muddy water around them.
"Nigel," David muttered wearily whilst shifting uncomfortably in his soaking wet clothes. "I hate to say this, but I've changed my mind about chasing rainbows."
"Me too," the brunette mumbled sheepishly. "Are you alright?"
David squeezed his eyes shut, and pressed his fingertips to his temples. "I think so. I've got terrible headache, though." He opened his eyes and looked at Nigel, sitting next to him in the mud. "And I think I've done something to my shoulder. What about you?"
"I've really done something to my ankle, tried to stand on it just now and I fell over. I must have landed on it coming down." He wryly looked up at the steep mud wall behind them.
The singer followed his gaze, sighing in defeat. "We can't get out, can we?"
"Not unless you've got a ladder on you, no."
David shook his head and leaned back against the quarry wall, sighing with exhaustion. "I wonder if anyone's coming to find us."
Nigel shrugged. "Knowing Ian, I really don't know. God!" he exclaimed. "Why did I have to be so childish in the café?"
"Because that's a part of you," David replied, smirking good-naturedly.
"What if no-one looks for us though, because I was being so bloody immature? They're probably just waiting for me realise that they were right all along and go dragging myself back in there again. What if no-one comes to find us?"
"Nige," David quietly interrupted as he saw the panic on his bandmate's face, "someone will come. They can hardly just go without us, can they?"
Nigel watched David's sincere expression, trusting what the man had said because there was nothing else he could do. "I suppose you're right," he muttered, shivering. "I hope they don't take too long, though."
Ian and the remaining band members sat in the back of the rescue van, the rough country roads making them thankful for their seatbelts.
"Might I ask," Ian said to the driver, "we're assuming that David and Nigel walked in a straight line in the direction of the rainbow, right?"
The driver nodded distractedly as they skimmed over a pothole with a bump.
"In that case," the manager continued, "this seems a very long route to be taking."
"The only direct path to the quarry – if that's where they are," the rescue worker next to the driver explained in heavily accented English, "is only for walking. It's too small for us to reach. Anyway, it's not far from here now."
Ian nodded and turned in his seat, looking uneasily at Derek.
"I just want it known," the bassist grumbled, "that if they're really in danger then I'm holding you responsible."
"Me?" the manager exclaimed.
"Yes, you! It was you who wouldn't let anyone go after them!"
"They shouldn't have gone in the first place! I told Nigel not to, he should have listened to me."
"Ian, we've been living on a bloody bus for five weeks! We haven't had a chance to get away from each other at all, no opportunity to have any peace and quiet. And now, the first time that we actually have some spare time with nothing to do, and the first time that a quiet walk might actually be a feasible idea, instead of telling Nigel to be careful and to come back within an hour you get angry with him and show that you don't care! Did it ever occur to you that perhaps he needed to get out? That perhaps we all do? Frankly, right now I don't blame Nigel for going. Just thank goodness that David's with him."
Ian stared blankly at Derek, his face flushed from the tirade, before turning to the other musicians. "Mick, Viv, will one of you back me up here, please?"
"'Fraid not," Mick shrugged nonchalantly. "I'm with Derek on this one."
"Viv?" Ian's face looked desperate.
The keyboardist shook his head. "I'm sorry, but I think he's right. We all need a break."
If it was possible, Ian's face went redder. "I – I'm speechless. I just cannot believe –"
"We're here," the driver interrupted as he turned the engine off and opened his door.
Ian huffed, forcing himself to hold his tongue as he opened his own door. Stepping outside, he was confused to see that they were on the edge of a forest. "It looks like a load of trees, to me," he said brusquely.
"It is," the second rescue worker muttered wryly, as he opened to back of the van and pulled out cloth bags of ropes and harnesses. "This is as near to the quarry as we can drive, it's about a mile walk from here. Come on."
"Might I ask," Ian said to the driver, "we're assuming that David and Nigel walked in a straight line in the direction of the rainbow, right?"
The driver nodded distractedly as they skimmed over a pothole with a bump.
"In that case," the manager continued, "this seems a very long route to be taking."
"The only direct path to the quarry – if that's where they are," the rescue worker next to the driver explained in heavily accented English, "is only for walking. It's too small for us to reach. Anyway, it's not far from here now."
Ian nodded and turned in his seat, looking uneasily at Derek.
"I just want it known," the bassist grumbled, "that if they're really in danger then I'm holding you responsible."
"Me?" the manager exclaimed.
"Yes, you! It was you who wouldn't let anyone go after them!"
"They shouldn't have gone in the first place! I told Nigel not to, he should have listened to me."
"Ian, we've been living on a bloody bus for five weeks! We haven't had a chance to get away from each other at all, no opportunity to have any peace and quiet. And now, the first time that we actually have some spare time with nothing to do, and the first time that a quiet walk might actually be a feasible idea, instead of telling Nigel to be careful and to come back within an hour you get angry with him and show that you don't care! Did it ever occur to you that perhaps he needed to get out? That perhaps we all do? Frankly, right now I don't blame Nigel for going. Just thank goodness that David's with him."
Ian stared blankly at Derek, his face flushed from the tirade, before turning to the other musicians. "Mick, Viv, will one of you back me up here, please?"
"'Fraid not," Mick shrugged nonchalantly. "I'm with Derek on this one."
"Viv?" Ian's face looked desperate.
The keyboardist shook his head. "I'm sorry, but I think he's right. We all need a break."
If it was possible, Ian's face went redder. "I – I'm speechless. I just cannot believe –"
"We're here," the driver interrupted as he turned the engine off and opened his door.
Ian huffed, forcing himself to hold his tongue as he opened his own door. Stepping outside, he was confused to see that they were on the edge of a forest. "It looks like a load of trees, to me," he said brusquely.
"It is," the second rescue worker muttered wryly, as he opened to back of the van and pulled out cloth bags of ropes and harnesses. "This is as near to the quarry as we can drive, it's about a mile walk from here. Come on."
"I hate to say this, but I think the water's rising," Nigel muttered with chattering teeth. The sun had now moved near to the top of the quarry wall, far from the overhead position it had occupied when David first looked up at his surroundings. The rain, on the other hand, had continued to fall heavily, with no sign of stopping.
David looked down at his bent knees poking out of the water, the rest of his legs completely submerged. "I think you're right." He straightened his legs out, and the toes of his shoes didn't even break the water's surface.
"Do you think we'll drown?"
"No," the blond said shortly, turning to look at Nigel.
Nigel paused, considering the situation. "How do you know?"
"I don't know," David replied. "But I hope."
"Oh."
Nigel flicked his fringe back from his face, his hair soaked through. "God, it's fucking cold!"
"Come here," David murmured, shuffling nearer to Nigel and wrapping one arm around his shaking shoulder.
Nigel looked back at the blond, puzzled. "What did you do that for?"
"You said you were cold," David replied in earnest, briefly rubbing one palm vigorously up and down Nigel's upper arm to warm him up. "And you're right, it's bloody freezing." He struggled to keep his own teeth from chattering.
"You don't have to do that though, if you don't want to. It's my fault we're down here, after all. I wouldn't blame you if you hated me after this."
"Nige," David said firmly. "Did it ever occur to you that if I hated you, I wouldn't have come with you? And if I didn't come, you'd be here on your own, and I'm not sure I could live with that. Better to have two people missing together, than one on his own, innit?"
"Two in the bush is better than one in the hand," Nigel added, philosophically.
"Well... something like that," David snorted. "Really though, I do care about you, you know. Besides, you're keeping me warm too at the moment." He pointedly moved closer to Nigel, half in jest, and half genuinely savouring the faint heat he could feel emanating from the other man.
Nigel snorted a smile, wrapping his arm around David's waist to try and share the warmth more. "Do you mean that?"
"Yeah, course I do! It's bloody cold!"
"Before that," Nigel laughed, before his smile faded and his expression turned more serious. "Do you mean what you said?"
David watched Nigel's face, his own expression unreadable. "Yeah," he said quietly. "I mean it."
At the shorter distance, as the pair carefully watched each others' expressions, they barely noticed the gap between their faces close until their noses were touching, gently rubbing against each other in an Eskimo kiss.
"Dave," Nigel whispered, never breaking their gaze as he felt raindrops run onto his own nose from the blond's hair.
"Yeah?" the blond replied in a hushed voice, hearing nothing around himself but the steady splashes of rain and his pulse in his ears.
"What's happening?"
The singer swallowed and gazed into Nigel's eyes, never before realising how intense they were up close. "I don't know." He closed his eyes and tilted his head, almost shivering with cold and anticipation as their lips met.
Their kiss was almost chaste in its gentleness, soft and unhurried as they tenderly explored each other, hands coming up to rest against flushed cheeks. After what felt like minutes of pure bliss, Nigel pulled his head back with a shy grin and covered David's hand on his cheek with his own palm, linking their fingers together. Lost for words, he gazed at David, his grin faltering when he saw the heaviness of his eyelids and the pallor of his skin.
"Dave, are you alright?"
David lazily smiled at Nigel. "Yeah, just a bit... light-headed," he grinned despite his swimming head.
"Are you sure?" He let go of his hand, and rested his own hands either side of the blond's face, lightly brushing his hair back in concern at the mottled grey colour his skin was turning.
"Yeah. Just a little bit dizzy." He visibly struggled to keep upright, and Nigel gently pulled him forward to lean against his shoulder for support. "Think I might have concussion, after all."
"What?" He leant back to look at David's face again, but his body had already slumped against his chest. He grabbed the blond's hand and squeezed it to no reaction. "David? Dave! Wake up!"
In utter panic, Nigel looked around, seeing absolutely no chance of getting out, or getting help. He clutched David tightly to himself, and did the only thing he could think of – shout, and loud.
David looked down at his bent knees poking out of the water, the rest of his legs completely submerged. "I think you're right." He straightened his legs out, and the toes of his shoes didn't even break the water's surface.
"Do you think we'll drown?"
"No," the blond said shortly, turning to look at Nigel.
Nigel paused, considering the situation. "How do you know?"
"I don't know," David replied. "But I hope."
"Oh."
Nigel flicked his fringe back from his face, his hair soaked through. "God, it's fucking cold!"
"Come here," David murmured, shuffling nearer to Nigel and wrapping one arm around his shaking shoulder.
Nigel looked back at the blond, puzzled. "What did you do that for?"
"You said you were cold," David replied in earnest, briefly rubbing one palm vigorously up and down Nigel's upper arm to warm him up. "And you're right, it's bloody freezing." He struggled to keep his own teeth from chattering.
"You don't have to do that though, if you don't want to. It's my fault we're down here, after all. I wouldn't blame you if you hated me after this."
"Nige," David said firmly. "Did it ever occur to you that if I hated you, I wouldn't have come with you? And if I didn't come, you'd be here on your own, and I'm not sure I could live with that. Better to have two people missing together, than one on his own, innit?"
"Two in the bush is better than one in the hand," Nigel added, philosophically.
"Well... something like that," David snorted. "Really though, I do care about you, you know. Besides, you're keeping me warm too at the moment." He pointedly moved closer to Nigel, half in jest, and half genuinely savouring the faint heat he could feel emanating from the other man.
Nigel snorted a smile, wrapping his arm around David's waist to try and share the warmth more. "Do you mean that?"
"Yeah, course I do! It's bloody cold!"
"Before that," Nigel laughed, before his smile faded and his expression turned more serious. "Do you mean what you said?"
David watched Nigel's face, his own expression unreadable. "Yeah," he said quietly. "I mean it."
At the shorter distance, as the pair carefully watched each others' expressions, they barely noticed the gap between their faces close until their noses were touching, gently rubbing against each other in an Eskimo kiss.
"Dave," Nigel whispered, never breaking their gaze as he felt raindrops run onto his own nose from the blond's hair.
"Yeah?" the blond replied in a hushed voice, hearing nothing around himself but the steady splashes of rain and his pulse in his ears.
"What's happening?"
The singer swallowed and gazed into Nigel's eyes, never before realising how intense they were up close. "I don't know." He closed his eyes and tilted his head, almost shivering with cold and anticipation as their lips met.
Their kiss was almost chaste in its gentleness, soft and unhurried as they tenderly explored each other, hands coming up to rest against flushed cheeks. After what felt like minutes of pure bliss, Nigel pulled his head back with a shy grin and covered David's hand on his cheek with his own palm, linking their fingers together. Lost for words, he gazed at David, his grin faltering when he saw the heaviness of his eyelids and the pallor of his skin.
"Dave, are you alright?"
David lazily smiled at Nigel. "Yeah, just a bit... light-headed," he grinned despite his swimming head.
"Are you sure?" He let go of his hand, and rested his own hands either side of the blond's face, lightly brushing his hair back in concern at the mottled grey colour his skin was turning.
"Yeah. Just a little bit dizzy." He visibly struggled to keep upright, and Nigel gently pulled him forward to lean against his shoulder for support. "Think I might have concussion, after all."
"What?" He leant back to look at David's face again, but his body had already slumped against his chest. He grabbed the blond's hand and squeezed it to no reaction. "David? Dave! Wake up!"
In utter panic, Nigel looked around, seeing absolutely no chance of getting out, or getting help. He clutched David tightly to himself, and did the only thing he could think of – shout, and loud.
"I'd just like to mention," Ian grumbled as the group trudged through the muddy forest, "that if they've already gone back to the café I'm going to be very annoyed."
"That's fine, but we're not turning around now," Derek curtly replied. "Besides –"
"Shush!" one of the rescue workers whispered, his index finger to his lips. "Listen."
Everyone stood still for a second, straining their ears. Ian was about to break the silence and ask what they were supposed to be listening for, when a shrill, panicked cry suddenly pierced the air.
"Help! Someone, please! Help!"
The musicians all turned to face each other, worry etched across their faces. "That's them," Derek quietly spoke, as they all hurried forward with a new sense of determination. "Nigel! We're coming!"
"That's fine, but we're not turning around now," Derek curtly replied. "Besides –"
"Shush!" one of the rescue workers whispered, his index finger to his lips. "Listen."
Everyone stood still for a second, straining their ears. Ian was about to break the silence and ask what they were supposed to be listening for, when a shrill, panicked cry suddenly pierced the air.
"Help! Someone, please! Help!"
The musicians all turned to face each other, worry etched across their faces. "That's them," Derek quietly spoke, as they all hurried forward with a new sense of determination. "Nigel! We're coming!"
A faint sense of relief settled on Nigel when he heard the reply, and after the longest few seconds in his life, he saw Derek, followed by Ian and the rest of the band and some people he didn't know appear at the edge of the quarry.
"Derek! Down here!" He could almost hear a panicked sob hitch in his throat as he continued to hug David to himself.
"We can see you!" Derek shouted from the top of the quarry, flicking rain from his hair. "We've got some people to get you out. Is that David down there? Is he alright?"
"He won't wake up!"
Derek looked at one of the rescue workers in horror, who in turn walked to the edge of the quarry, kneeling down to steady himself.
"It's okay," he shouted down, "we will be there soon."
Not at all comforted by the stranger's words, Nigel rested his cheek on top of David's head, and waited. After an agonising few minutes, the man began haphazardly abseiling down the slick mud wall, eventually landing his feet in the water which came halfway up to his knees. Unhooking his harness, he splashed over to Nigel and knelt down in the water next to him, resting a hand on the guitarist's arm.
"I need to take him back up," the man gently told Nigel, who nodded uneasily in return, letting him carefully take David into his own arms. He leant down to steady his ear in front of the blond's face, motionlessly staring at his chest for a few seconds before looking back up to the other rescue worker.
"He's breathing, I'm bringing him up."
Nigel watched as he shuffled David across to the cables against the wall and, strapping his own harness back together and pulling a padded loop over the blond, began slowly ascending the wall. As soon as they reached the top, a thick blanket was wrapped around the singer and he was placed on his back across the ground.
As another rescue worker held his legs high in the air, he noticed Ian and the rest of the band watching the scene in obvious worry. "It's alright," he reassured them. "It's probably just not enough blood reaching his head." Sure enough, after only a matter of seconds the colour started coming back to his cheeks.
Meanwhile, Nigel waited, still sitting in the water at the bottom of the quarry. Worry gnawed at his chest. What was happening to David? He couldn't lose him now, not after he'd just ... found him? Was that what had happened? He'd known the man since they were kids, but it was true – he had only just found him. Sighing in frustration at the situation, he barely noticed when the rescue worker came back down again, and splashed across the water to reach him.
"Are you hurt?" he asked, bending down to see Nigel better.
"Just my ankle," the guitarist replied. "I can't walk on it."
"What if I help you?" The rescue worker held a hand out to pull Nigel up, which Nigel accepted with a nod. Hopping across the deep water in an ungainly manner, they eventually reached the cable, to which the man reattached his harness and pulled the same foam padded loop over Nigel as he had earlier for David.
Not able to restrain his anxiety anymore, Nigel quietly broke the relative silence. "Is David going to be alright?"
Smiling reassuringly, the man replied, "He's going to be fine," and with a shout from above, the pair were slowly winched up the wall.
"Derek! Down here!" He could almost hear a panicked sob hitch in his throat as he continued to hug David to himself.
"We can see you!" Derek shouted from the top of the quarry, flicking rain from his hair. "We've got some people to get you out. Is that David down there? Is he alright?"
"He won't wake up!"
Derek looked at one of the rescue workers in horror, who in turn walked to the edge of the quarry, kneeling down to steady himself.
"It's okay," he shouted down, "we will be there soon."
Not at all comforted by the stranger's words, Nigel rested his cheek on top of David's head, and waited. After an agonising few minutes, the man began haphazardly abseiling down the slick mud wall, eventually landing his feet in the water which came halfway up to his knees. Unhooking his harness, he splashed over to Nigel and knelt down in the water next to him, resting a hand on the guitarist's arm.
"I need to take him back up," the man gently told Nigel, who nodded uneasily in return, letting him carefully take David into his own arms. He leant down to steady his ear in front of the blond's face, motionlessly staring at his chest for a few seconds before looking back up to the other rescue worker.
"He's breathing, I'm bringing him up."
Nigel watched as he shuffled David across to the cables against the wall and, strapping his own harness back together and pulling a padded loop over the blond, began slowly ascending the wall. As soon as they reached the top, a thick blanket was wrapped around the singer and he was placed on his back across the ground.
As another rescue worker held his legs high in the air, he noticed Ian and the rest of the band watching the scene in obvious worry. "It's alright," he reassured them. "It's probably just not enough blood reaching his head." Sure enough, after only a matter of seconds the colour started coming back to his cheeks.
Meanwhile, Nigel waited, still sitting in the water at the bottom of the quarry. Worry gnawed at his chest. What was happening to David? He couldn't lose him now, not after he'd just ... found him? Was that what had happened? He'd known the man since they were kids, but it was true – he had only just found him. Sighing in frustration at the situation, he barely noticed when the rescue worker came back down again, and splashed across the water to reach him.
"Are you hurt?" he asked, bending down to see Nigel better.
"Just my ankle," the guitarist replied. "I can't walk on it."
"What if I help you?" The rescue worker held a hand out to pull Nigel up, which Nigel accepted with a nod. Hopping across the deep water in an ungainly manner, they eventually reached the cable, to which the man reattached his harness and pulled the same foam padded loop over Nigel as he had earlier for David.
Not able to restrain his anxiety anymore, Nigel quietly broke the relative silence. "Is David going to be alright?"
Smiling reassuringly, the man replied, "He's going to be fine," and with a shout from above, the pair were slowly winched up the wall.
Groggily opening his eyes to a blur of unfamiliar surroundings, the first thing that came to David's mind was ‘not again.' As he slowly squinted and the faces around him came into view, he realised that one in particular was missing, as recollection dawned on him.
"Nigel! Where's Nigel?"
Before anyone had a chance to reply, he caught sight of two people appearing over the edge of the quarry – the second of them quickly untangling himself from the equipment he was attached to, before looking up and finally making eye contact. "Dave!"
Nigel immediately limped clumsily across the distance between the two, sprawling onto the ground with David and almost crushing him in a relieved hug which was returned with no less strength.
"I thought I'd lost you," the brunette whimpered, kissing his cheek in relief.
"Nah," David smiled, not letting go of the other man. "I said earlier, I don't think I could live with myself if I left you alone."
Nigel simply replied with a grin, lost for any other words.
"Hey, look!" David continued, pointing to the sky towards his side. "The rainbow's still there after all."
His bandmate smiled. "We never did find any leprechauns, after all that."
"You didn't find your gold, either."
Nigel reached for David's hand and held it tight, discreetly linking their fingers together as he gazed sincerely at the blond.
"I wouldn't say that," he replied with a shy grin.
"Nigel! Where's Nigel?"
Before anyone had a chance to reply, he caught sight of two people appearing over the edge of the quarry – the second of them quickly untangling himself from the equipment he was attached to, before looking up and finally making eye contact. "Dave!"
Nigel immediately limped clumsily across the distance between the two, sprawling onto the ground with David and almost crushing him in a relieved hug which was returned with no less strength.
"I thought I'd lost you," the brunette whimpered, kissing his cheek in relief.
"Nah," David smiled, not letting go of the other man. "I said earlier, I don't think I could live with myself if I left you alone."
Nigel simply replied with a grin, lost for any other words.
"Hey, look!" David continued, pointing to the sky towards his side. "The rainbow's still there after all."
His bandmate smiled. "We never did find any leprechauns, after all that."
"You didn't find your gold, either."
Nigel reached for David's hand and held it tight, discreetly linking their fingers together as he gazed sincerely at the blond.
"I wouldn't say that," he replied with a shy grin.