The last time he went through this—not having the drive to paint—the band’s music helped him. That’s not going to happen this time around.
At night, Miles finally sucks it up. He retreats to the roof garden, right after dinner with his mom, and calls Calvin back.
“You upset with me?” Calvin asks. “You’ve been ignoring me all day.”
No, he’s not upset. He just doesn’t want to listen to another song written by him and sung by Theo. He’s fucking broken is what it is, being unable to inhale the music of his all-time favorite band.
“It was a busy day,” Miles says. Lots of lugging around blank papers and skipping rocks in the lake. On the upside, his new record is five skips. “Sorry.”
“My day’s been pretty busy, too, Miles.”
He takes a deep breath and starts picking at an old paint stain on the table. “Sorry,” he says again.
“What did you think of our new song?”
Miles is quiet for too long.
“You didn’t even listen,” Calvin says dryly. “Oh, god.”
“I was busy,” Miles says, and he grips the edge of the table hard enough that his knuckles go white. His chest is tight. He could throw up, with the way his stomach is twisting. He hasn’t even checked social media, knowing that it’ll just be a bunch of people talking about a song he doesn’t want to hear. “I’ll listen to it now.”
“Don’t bother.” His voice is so flat, and Miles can tell he’s upset. Why wouldn’t he be? He’s talking to Miles the same way he did during the first day they met, when he would barely look his way, and it was as if he just wanted Miles to leave him alone. It doesn’t hold the same type of softness that he’s grown somewhat accustomed to.
“Calvin.”
“Just don’t bother,” he snaps.
God, here comes the word vomit. Miles can feel it creeping up histhroat, impossible to stop. “I didn’t want to listen to your ex sing another love song, okay?”
“If you—if you listened to it, then you’d—” Calvin stumbles over his words, losing the usual composure he has. “I—fuck.Fuck.You said it’d be a good idea to fight to keep the band together. Last night you said all we had to do was learn to work together.”
“Yeah, and I still think that. What I told you about your band, fighting for it, working together with your ex—it has nothing to do with me. You shouldn’t, like, have to think about me when you make decisions about your job.”
“So, the downside to all this fabulous advice you’re giving is that you don’t want anything to do with me?” He says it slowly, as if letting each word pierce Miles, and it does. “You want me to refuse to play with the band? Break it up again? Because that’s already the plan.”
“Jesus, no, Calvin.” Miles groans. “Honestly, I don’t think you should do that. All those hits your band has? That doesn’t come easy. This is something you’ve built for years, and it’s your passion. This is your career. What if you’re not able to write any more songs after you cut him out of your life?”
“What the hell is your problem?”
“I can’t paint.”
Calvin huffs in disbelief. “What does that have to do with anything right now?”
“I can’t paint and it sucks. The last time I couldn’t paint was when my dad died, and it feels horrible. My manager says it’s because I’ve lost my muse, and I don’t even know what that means. I literallydepend on being able to paint for my livelihood, because god knows I can’t run an inn.”
“I… what? Youcanrun an inn—wait, what? What are we talking about, exactly?”
“And you. You’re so talented, and extraordinary, and you’ve done so much for me, and you’ve written all these songs I’m crazy about. And I’m crazy for you, too, if that wasn’t clear enough. But I’m never going to be that person who you’ll write all that for.” Miles laughs, and it sounds like he’s on the verge of a meltdown. “You don’t even like doing lead vocals. Without Theo, how’s anyone going to hear what you wrote? He’s being an ass now because he’s hurt, but face it, he’s the one you actually need.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“I’m serious. I don’t… I’ve got nothing to offer you. Honestly, I’m not even sure why you’re into me.”
“You don’t know why I’m into you?” Calvin sucks in a breath, then he scoffs. Miles listens to him stammer and try to get his words out, then he goes quiet altogether. The silence stretches forever and when he speaks again, his voice is much clearer, much calmer. “Your art is out of this world, but more than that—you’re incredible as a person. You’re kind, and you’re funny, and so insanely resilient, and you put everyone else ahead of you. I like how you take care of your mom, and of Gabby. And you—shit, you made me feel like I actually mattered, because damn, have I been waiting for that for a good while.”
“Calvin,” Miles says, voice cracking.
“Thanks for being a jackass.”
