“You’re…” Alex trembled. “…not mad?”
“Why would I be?” I pulled back, my hands still on his shoulders, so I could get a good look at him without letting go.
His eyes blinked up at me through strands of his hair. “You’ve all been nothing but nice to me. Your parents took me in. You helped me so much with my music. I yelled atall of you. That’s… unforgivable.”
“What are you talking about?” I brushed his hair out of his face. “Telling us to shut the fuck up was exactly the right thing to do.”
His eyes dropped to the ground as if he wasn’t allowed to look at me anymore. “That doesn’t make any sense.”
“Believe me, weneededthat. I wasn’t thinking clearly anymore, and neither was Dad. Thanks to you, we both apologized to each other. No one’s ever gotten us to do that.”
“Still—”
“Do you know why I was so mad at him?” I cut in because I could already see where his mind was going. He was trying to convince himselfhewas the bad guy, which couldn’t have been further from the truth. I needed to make sure he understood none of this was his fault and how much he meant to us.
“It wasn’t because he didn’t wantmeto make music. The way he said it, he devaluedyourlife choices, too. Saying it was all just a waste of time was incredibly insulting, and it made my blood boil. The music you make is anything but. It’s something that needs to be shared with the world. And… I hated that, because you’re such an incredible person.”
“No, I’m not.”
“You are?—”
“I’m not!”
“You always notice the small things. You keep going, even with everything life’s thrown at you. You bring out only the best in the people around you. You brought out the best in me.”
“Sebastian!” He tried to pull away from my embrace, turning his head so I couldn’t see the tears rolling down his face. “No, I… I don’t deserve this.”
But I wasn’t going to let him go.
“I love you, Alex.” I pulled him in closer and, despite his initial resistance, held him tight, my hand resting on the back of his head. “No matter how much you try to convince me otherwise, it won’t change my mind. If anyone deserves the world, it’s you.”
He sniffled, weakly pressing against my chest one last time, and then finally let me hold him. His fingers dug into my shirt, clinging to me for dear life. His chest shook as he gasped for air and sank into my arms, crying.
“I love you, too,” he whispered.
His sobs echoed through the old bar, each one making my own eyes sting. But I managed to hold myself together. For him.
He calmed down after a minute and looked up, his eyes red and his cheeks swollen.
“I’m sorry I ran away.”
“Is it cheesy to say I’ll always follow you?”
“A little, yeah.” He pressed his lips together, attempting a smile that looked both pained and relieved. “But it’s also nice to hear.”
His hands moved to my hips. I ran my fingers through his hair. We both leaned in and met in a brief kiss, but then he eased out of my arms.
“I need a minute.” He sniffled and wiped his face with his hands as he walked around the bar. “When you and your dad fought… it made me think about my mom. She and Ineverfought like that. But before you get the wrong idea, I was actually kind of jealous of you in that moment.”
“Okay,thatdoesn’t make any sense,” I said, then caught myself. “But I want to hear why.”
“I know fighting like this isn’t exactly fun, but… You care enough about each other to get that heated. I really think your dad is wrong about how he goes about things, but in the end, he’s just trying to look out for you. And then there’s you.” He faced the newspaper-covered display windows, only turning his head halfway toward me. “You get angry because youwanthis support. Because youwanthim to understand you.”
He wrapped his arms around himself. His eyes landed on a faded picture in one of the newspapers—a happy family, mom and dad with a hand on their son’s shoulders as he held a trophy.
“My mom never fought with me. When I did things most parents would’ve punished me for, she didn’t even bat an eye. I always believed we were just more harmonious than other families, but that wasn’t the case. When her husband threw me out, she looked at me the same way she always did. For years, I wondered why she didn’t say anything in that moment, and why she didn’t try to reach out. It only hit me when I saw you two. The freedom I believed she was giving me when we still lived together was actually just disinterest. She paid for my music lessons because they kept me busy and out of the house. She didn’t scold me—ever—because she just didn’t care. Sure, we had some good times, butgood timeswere all she cared about.”
What he was saying—those were some serious accusations. I couldn’t tell whether they were true. After all, I didn’t know his mom. But if that was how he felt about her, that was bad enough. No one should feel like their own parents don’t care whether they live or die.
