“So, umm…” Viktor started. “How are you doing?”
“Good.”
“I saw this post the other day, the one for your upcoming tour?”
You haven’t had time to talk to me, but you’ve had it to check the band’s social media. Nice, Marc thought, mentally venting some of the vile words that threatened to climb up his throat.
“Yeah. Erik and Uwe have gotten us some great gigs lately. They said that the guys from BLAST, the record label, will be at the one in Berlin.”
“That’s awesome.”
“Yeah. Have you… have you made any new sculptures?”
“Not really. Inspiration is pretty lacking these days.”
“That’s normal, I guess.” Marc pulled at a loose thread on the couch. He was utterly uncomfortable with the way they talked to each other, as if they were a pair of strangers that had just met. “And, um, how’s your mom doing?”
“She’s here, but it’s like she’s not anymore. They’re giving her oxygen on and off now, too.”
“Oh fuck. I’m so sorry… Do you want me to come?” Marc asked, resting his elbows on his knees and leaning forward. “We’re gonna be busy in May and June, but I can grab a flight for next weekend.”
“That’d be too expensive. Don’t worry.”
“But I’d like to be with you.”
“I know. And I love you for that, but it’s better like this.”
“How is it better?”
Silence.
“Viktor?”
“I was just thinking about how fucking lucky I was that night, in February, nine years ago, when you looked in my direction.” The drawl of heartbreak in his voice was so obvious it hurt. “In a bar you shouldn’t have been at in the first place.”
“I’ve never been one to follow the rules. Besides, it’s not like you cared that much when you corrupted sweet little ol’ me.”
“You’ve never been that sweet. And I only invited you for a beer as an excuse to talk to you. Plus, nothing happened for the first four months.”
“I bet you had fucked me in your mind more times than you can count before you actually did it.”
“Yeah.” This time, it was a sad smile that the bassist sensed. “You’ve given me some of the best years of my life, Marc.”
“Same.”
“I’d like to say this is gonna get better at some point, but I have no idea when that will be. It’s weighing too heavily on my shoulders, and I’m pulling you down with me,” Viktor rambled. “And I hate to do this. I’m not even sure it’s what’s best. Well, it is… for you.”
“What are you talking about?” Marc’s heart writhed in his chest. He could sense it coming; the end. But Vik wouldn’t do this to him. Not over the phone. Not after almost a decade together. Would he?
“What I’m trying to say is… I don’t think it’s fair for you to keep waiting for me. You’re young and have so many dreams to chase, a band to fight for, and I’m in this hole. I don’t know how to get out of here—”
“Are you breaking up with me?”
“I’m setting you free.”
“Fuck that.”
“Marc… please.”
