Back in black.
He couldn’t help it. He lunged forward, arms spread to wrap themselves around Howard in the most uncomfortably long and awkward hug ever.
“Ho-Jo!” Adam yelled, squeezing tight, because if he were to let go, Howard might leave again. Or punch him, which he currently could not do since his arms were pinned to his sides.
“Hi, Adam,” the black man responded, trying in vain to return the hug.
“I’m so fuckin’ happy you’re back. Geez, Phil was cool and everything, but towards the end he kept trying to make out with me. I’d much rather make out with you.”
“I’m sure you would,” Howard replied, rolling his eyes though Adam couldn’t see.
“God, I missed your black ass.”
“You wanna, er, let go of me now?”
“Yeah, I probably should, huh?”
“Probably.”
“Okay, I will.” Adam released the shorter man, and the singer looked up at him, shaking his head slowly.
“Didn’t realize you cared that much.”
Adam looked at him like he was crazy.
“Dude, of course I care. You’re like, my best friend. I love you.” He didn’t mean to let his voice crack in the last sentence.
Howard half smiled.
“Really, I do. I care. I was so worried….”
“It’s okay. I’m okay,” Howard insisted, placing a large hand on the bespectacled man’s shoulder. “I’m sorry you worried about me.”
“Yeah, well….”
Adam’s shoulder started to burn. Thankfully, Howard removed his hand.
“So, uh…. We better get on the bus, then,” the guitarist said.
“Yeah.”
“Need help carrying your stuff?” Adam asked.
Howard raised an eyebrow, shook his head, and laughed. Then, he grabbed Adam’s luggage off the producer’s shoulders, and carried them along with his own bags. Adam followed Howard onto the bus, smiling. Touring was going to be fun again now that his best friend was back.