I’m scaring him now. I know I am.
But I can’t let this go.
“I don’t know!” he says, trying again to pull away from me. “But there has to be something wrong with me!” His eyes are desperate, wild, when they meet mine. “Otherwise, it would be easy to walk away.”
“Walking away is hard!” I say. “It’s always hard! These men, they bind you to them. You have no money, no job, no friends. You are nothing without them, because they want you to be nothing. But I tell you now, Mishka, you are not nothing. You are beautiful, and kind, and you deserve better. If it isn’t me, I will be sad and angry, but I will accept. As long as you accept that you do not need to ever return to a man who destroys your… your soul. A man who makes you think you cannot play music.”
The sound he makes is strangled, and I realize it’s a sob that he’s trying to hold in. He doesn’t want me to know he’s crying.
I wrap my arms around him and pull him close. “Mishka, Mishka. You are worth more than that pig. You are brighter than him. Don’t let him erase you.”
Micah cries harder, but he clings to me instead of continuing to try to pull away from me. I rub his back, letting him get it out, and several long moments pass before he starts to calm down again.
“I don’t want to be erased,” he whispers raggedly. “I want to be seen.” He lets out another broken sound. “I want to be worthy.”
I tilt his head up so I can see him properly. His skin is red and splotchy, his blond hair is disheveled, his eyes tear-stained, but for once, there’s an extra spark behind his eyes.
I smile and kiss the corner of one eye.
“Good,” I whisper. “I see you, Mishka. And I will help the world see you, and hear you, too.”
“Thank you.” He clutches me, leaning in to brush his lips against mine. “Thank you, Ilya.”
The emotion that grips me is sudden and intense.
“You’re welcome,” I whisper.
But my heart says,I love you.
It is much, much too soon to say something like that. I’ll scare him away.
On the other hand: even my gloved hands and shouting hadn’t scared him.
Maybe he’ll accept the kind words, too.
On another day.
SIXTEEN
MICAH
I can’t sleep.
I’m lying safe and sound near Ilya, the sound of his quiet snoring filling the room, and I should be able to rest. I’m exhausted from our conversation, but at the same time…
Don’t let him erase you.
I can’t stop thinking about Adam. I can’t stop thinking about what I have with Adam—or more accurately, what Idon’thave with Adam.
What I could have with Ilya.
A rational part of my mind tells me that Adam started off this way, too. So did Charles. Both of them showed their true colors before long, and it’s all so new with Ilya that there’s plenty of time for him to change, too.
But Ilya has been honest with me from the start.
I’ve seen his darkness, heard his story, and he’s worked so hard not to lash out at me. It’s real in a way that what I had with Adam and Charles never was.
I carefully slide out of bed, pausing when it seems like Ilya is going to wake up. He doesn’t, and I grab my phone before heading to the spare room. I close and lock the door behind me,my heart pounding against my ribs as I tap the screen of my phone to call Adam.
