“Like what?”
“It was probably the pressure of becoming too big, but he kept pushing too much, and I started hating it; I was too passive and he hated that. We’d try to fix it and meet in the middle, and for some time, it’d be like it used to be, but it never lasted. At some point, it was just too much work. He’d say things like I don’t have an opinion about anything, that I don’t care about our music. He said I didn’t back him up hard enough with what he wanted for the band.”
“Has he actually listened to you perform? The man only has eyes and ears for himself.”
Calvin laughs and meets his eyes. “It’s sweet that you say that, but you don’t have to. It is what it is.”
“Yeah, but you need to know this. Nobody can watch you on stage and say you don’t care about your music. I’m serious. You’re fucking incredible.”
He blushes and hunches his shoulders, shaking Miles’s gripoff his arm. “What are you, the president of my fan club?”
“No, that would be Rebecca.”
“Who’s Rebecca?”
“The president of your fan club. Keep up.” Miles laughs when he makes a bewildered face. “You know this. The club’s got a Facebook group, a newsletter, and sells merch. A bunch were backstage at the festival. The Calvinatics. It doesn’t ring a bell?”
Calvin looks mortified. “I—oh. Yeah. I know. Please stop talking.”
“I’m aiming to be at least a moderator soon, but I need to suck up to the inner circle first. Think I can post some selfies of us? Might make it easier if they believe I can get in touch with you.”
“You—you joined the—oh my god.” Calvin’s spluttering and his red ears are priceless, and Miles grins and sidles up to him. He puts an arm around his shoulder and squeezes, and Calvin makes a disgruntled sound. “Why are you teasing me?”
“I’m not.” Okay, maybe he is, but only because he gets so cute when he’s flustered like this. “I think it’s really adorable how you seem to have no idea how incredible you are. Incredible enough to have your own fan club.”
“Stop it,” Calvin mumbles. “Talk about something else. Actually, stop deflecting and changing the subject. Why did you and Matthew break up?”
He thinks about it for a long while. They’re getting closer to his car, and they pass by the music store. The boy Calvin was talking to is running around the shop.
“It didn’t make sense anymore,” Miles says, quietly, because it’sthe only real answer he has. “It was my fault. When… uh. When my dad passed, I kind of stopped being myself—Matt tried everything, but nothing mattered. Eventually, he stopped trying.”
Miles slows down a bit, lets go of Calvin, and holds a hand to his chest. Shit. That hollow, empty feeling creeps up. This is probably why he didn’t want to talk about his past with Matthew. He probably knew it would stir something in him.
He and Matthew had been great together—but that was a long time ago, and that had been a version of Miles he doesn’t even remember anymore. Still, sometimes when he’s alone in his too big city apartment, home from a night out with friends who came with their partners, he does wonder what it would be like to have someone. Then he’d remember how perfect he used to have it, and that if it didn’t work out that time, it would never work out with anyone else.
But now, he thinks that if Calvin gave him a chance, he’d want to try. The fact that he even remotely believes that scares him as much as it makes him hopeful. It also somehow helps him get through these awful memories that are clawing at him.
He probably wouldn’t be this messed up if Dad didn’t have to leave them so abruptly all those years ago.
Calvin doesn’t notice the lag in his step, most likely oblivious to the fact that his thoughts are spiraling. “So, what happened? Did you eventually become more yourself again? Did art help?”
“Your music did. I told you that,” Miles says, too honest.
Calvin blushes. “Oh.”
They reach his car and Calvin says, “I’ve never gone through thatkind of loss. I don’t think I would survive it.” It takes Miles a while to remember that they had been talking about his dad. “The kid in the music store back there, he lost his dad recently. He said he taught him how to play the guitar.”
“Yeah.” Miles didn’t think he’d survive it, either. He still hasn’t survived it. The heartache is too much, and he thinks about Dad every single day. Suddenly, his throat is too tight, and he’s blinking too much.
“He showed me a video of him on the guitar. It was really cute.” Calvin closes the door and grabs the seatbelt, and turns to Miles. “Hey. You alright?”
“Yeah.” He rubs his eyes. Shit.
“Miles,” Calvin murmurs. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have reminded you of your dad.”
“You didn’t.” He needs a moment. He’ll be okay; he’s used to this. “I’m reminded of him all the time.”
“Gabby needs you right away?”
