Page 89 of The Invisible Roommate

The guys had wanted to cushion the blow for their fans by teasing Garret’s solo album, which the label was all too eager to agree to, and Gavin’s potential job scoring an influential director’s next big movie—some three-hour-plus epic he could compose from home while starting his family in earnest with his wife, Jen. But all the suits told them not to make promises they couldn’t cash checks on.

Freshly arrived, Emory had sat in the corner of the common room in their suite, swiveling his gaze from the view of New York City to the people with their eyes cast squarely on ever-chirping tablets. He didn’t understand half the things they were saying, but Gerard’s smile said it all.

Freedom. Independence. Their relationship. His health. One more day, and it was all his.

All theirs.

We understand this may come as a shock to many of you, especially since rumors started flying about our fourth album being in the works, but we promise, there’s no bad blood here. Only love. For each other. For you. For the memories we’ve made and the ones we’ll make in these next chapters.

All we can say for now is that we’re grateful to you, and we hope you’ll tune in to the live Nomeys broadcast tomorrow night for a surprise.

The comments the post racked up ranged from irate to understanding to devastated, but through it all, the three of them remained firm that this was the right decision. Not just for Gerard, but for all of them. They’d ridden the train together as far as the line would take them, and it was time to exit at the next station. At least for a bit.

Now, Gerard flashed his stage smile to the journalist who’d asked the question about Emory’s identity. Gerard stepped up to the microphone. Emory’s breath caught, unsure what was about to happen.

Gerard spoke evenly and eloquently. “This is Emory Griffin. He’s an incredible scientist and the cowriter of the new song We the Wells will be premiering tonight. Don’t miss it.”

How many people were watching? Millions? Tens of millions? Emory’s heart bobbed into his throat. All around the world, people heard his name from the mouth of a megacelebrity. A megacelebrity he had kissed and cuddled and confided in and staked his heart on.

It had been an obvious yes when Gerard asked if We the Wells could do a mash-up that included “The Invisibility Song” at the Nomeys. Back in the jail cell on Iping, he’d given up on the fool’s errand that was riding his high horse into an alumni reception he was unwanted at. Dr. Cuss had been right. Glory had never been the right goal. He wanted to help people, and at least in the world as it was, his discovery was too dangerous to become a mere token of retribution.

One day, maybe he’d find a safe way to share his invisibility serum, ensure it was guarded and used only for good, but until that day, until he could be certain, the secret would stay embedded inside the song, diluted to a fourth-grade reading level, never to be taken seriously.

After the airing of the Nomeys, people would go on to Google “Emory Griffin” and find nothing they didn’t already know. No major scientific publications. No social media profiles to stalk. No school photos to pass around in fan forums. All they’d see was Emory Griffin is the credited cowriter of We the Wells’s last single, “The Invisibility Song.”

This should’ve upset him, but it never did.

For the longest time, he’d wanted the world to know his name immediately upon seeing his face. He wanted people to read about his achievement in newspapers and textbooks and regret the way they had mistreated him, to gape in awe at his genius and contributions to science. But right then, as Gerard walked back to him in that fetching green suit across the not-red carpet for a final photo, hazel eyes bright with affection, he understood that life was not about having everyone notice you; it was about finding the one person who would see you and love you even when you were at your most invisible.

StepSix

State Your Conclusion

Forcing a pop star and a scientist to be roommates leads to understanding, respect, collaboration, and ultimately, lifelong love.

42James

FIVE YEARS LATER

Dusting the mantel above the fireplace in their home on Iping Island always caused James equal bolts of pride and embarrassment.

When they’d moved in three years earlier, having quickly outgrown the single room above Regina’s house, Emory had insisted James’s Nomey for Best Pop Duo / Group Performance go on display for all their visitors to see. Originally, he’d wanted to bury it in the yard like he’d heard tell many Hollywood eccentrics had done before him. The mini golden Victrola was from five years earlier, after all, and he’d stopped going by the name on the plaque as soon as he left the mainland for good.

After his seesaw of faith and his separation from celebrity, he’d decided he no longer felt like a Gerard. All his research into the saint he shared a name with left him with a sour taste in his mouth. Besides, if he was making a clean break from the spotlight, he wanted to leave behind as many pieces of it as possible. His name had been printed on too many pieces of merchandise. Going by his middle name—the name he’d slowly grown to enjoy using his first time on Iping—was an easy decision. Wells he was stuck with.

Up until a year prior, that was.

He finished dusting his award and moved on to the photo frames that were lined up like faithful soldiers on the other end of the mantel. The first picture he saw was their wedding photo. A year before, the two of them had stood at the altar inside the church on Iping in matching emerald suits, with Father Daniels officiating the service. As an avid member of the parish community and the second-in-command for the choir, James wanted to have a religious ceremony. He might not have believed everything the church did, but the sacrament itself still held weight in his heart.

After some greasing of the wheels by Regina, Father Daniels agreed to bend the rules for Emory, who was a strict atheist, and they became the first same-sex couple to be married on Iping. From then on, he’d forever be known as James Griffin. Emory never said it outright, but as the ink on their marriage license dried, James sensed taking his husband’s last name meant a lot to him, cemented them as true family, which Emory had gone a lifetime without.

“How is everybody getting here?” Emory asked as he descended the narrow, curved staircase with another plastic tub of Halloween decorations.

The house had two stories, three bedrooms, and a history dating back to 1910. What had sold James and Emory were the recent renovations, the bay views from the bedroom, and the enclosed porch where they often rested after dinner to discuss the day’s work or have a jam session. The only reason they could afford it mortgage-free? Royalties.

“The Invisibility Song” was a modest hit after its premiere at the Nomey Awards, but much like the despair over We the Wells disbanding, it faded quickly. A year or two later, a teen on a social media app choreographed a dance to it that went viral. Suddenly, the song was everywhere at Halloween time and even started outstreaming “The Monster Ball.” Regina claimed to not care, but it was still fun to tease her about it.

“My parents, Gavin, Jen, and Jojo decided to fly to Maryland and then take the ferry. Jojo’s never been on a boat before.” Once We the Wells disbanded, Gavin and his wife, Jen, had gotten to work on starting their family, and a year and a half later, they’d welcomed a healthy baby girl into their lives. She was three and already singing up a storm in the videos Gavin sent to the brothers’ group chat several times a week. Maybe she’d have siblings and they’d go on to form a band of their own.