"Yes, I was. I had a moment when I thought I was wrong this whole time."
I lift my eyes and see Bay looking at my face. I catch him wearing a faintly melancholic, almost sad expression, but he quickly pulls himself together and gives me a small smile.
"I hope all is good now?" He tilts his head.
I could burst into a thousand more questions, requests, demands for explanations, but I could also simply, quietly accept that he just gave methe answerI needed so much, and it kinda brings me closure.
Bay sighs. "There’s something I need to tell you. So many years have passed, and maybe you are a different person than the one you were when we parted, maybe I’m different too, but I want to believe that nothing can ever come between us. I did miss you so much."
I take a deep breath, because through all these years it was always me saying those words to him in one way or another, and now for the first time I hear them coming from Bay.
I can’t blame his previous hesitance. I had a few years of holding on to at least some kind of hopeful perspective, the one Blue’s research gave me. But he had nothing like that. For him, theseentire ten yearswere just a constant awareness of our impossibility, and that must have weighed on him heavily.
"I’m still me, hidden under layers of years of stress. I got used to this life of depression and loneliness. Who knows, maybe I don’t even remember what it feels like to be… happy anymore?" I whisper faintly.
"Who knows, perhaps I don’t remember that too."
We look at each other, and some kind of sad, almost bleak summary of thislost decadesettles between us, a depressing realization that maybe we can’t turn back time and be those high school kids again, full of reckless optimism and dreams.
"Perhaps then… we can be bothmiserable. Together?" I whisper, sending him a small smile.
He responds with a tiny smile, more of a twitch at the corner of his lips.
"We can surely try that." His tone is almost neutral, but there is so much behind it. A flicker of hope?
We both get up and just… stand there, facing each other in that strange silence.
Finally, I mutter, "You know, next week I’m planning to go to Blue and ask for another series of tests. Maybe there will finally be a breakthrough?" I try to give my voice a hint of the same hopeful feeling.
Bay stays quiet for another moment, then his phone starts ringing.
He grimaces slightly as he looks at the screen.
"Sorry, it’s Eric. I have to take this." He steps aside and answers the call.
I gather the plates from the table and put them into the dishwasher.
He talks with Eric for a moment about some upcoming music event Eric is dragging him to.
When he’s done, I say, "And where are your instruments? You didn’t bring them inside."
"They’re in my apartment, there." He makes a small gesture toward the apartment complex. "I only have my guitar in the trunk."
"Oh. Apartment…" I whisper, blinking. So that’s another piece of the puzzle. He was so close the whole time. Figured. I’llneed to give that more thought later, but right now I just have this little whim, and I want it to manifest.
"Will you bring your guitar in?" A small wave of shyness washes over me, but I push through it. "I would really like it if you played something for me."
He lifts his head. I sense in his energy more than I see on his face that he’s a little surprised by the request, but he nods.
A moment later he goes to the car and brings his guitars, keyboard, and cello inside, setting them against the wall in the living room. I notice then that a pair of leather gloves is sticking out of his pocket.
We sit on the couch and Bay takes the guitar, dragging a finger across the strings.
Fuck, he looks good like this, a long dark red lock slipping out of his ponytail as he tucks it behind his ear. He lowers his eyes to the neck of the guitar, as I admire the crazy length of his lashes.
"What song would you like me to sing?" he asks in a slightly formal tone.
"The one you wrote for me," I whisper.
