Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 81423 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 407(@200wpm)___ 326(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81423 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 407(@200wpm)___ 326(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
He’d fucked me tonight when he got to the room after a show. It had been wild and frenzied, hungry and needy, the way it always was between us. But where we used to lie in bed together afterward, where we’d talk and laugh and he’d play naked for me while I stroked his leg or his back and sometimes teasingly his cock, tonight he’d pulled on underwear when we’d finished, and was now sitting with his guitar on a chair in the corner.
It was like this more and more. Being together used to be ours, this place where it didn’t matter that I was Lawson Grant III. There were no expectations of me. And it was the place where Rem could simply be. Where he could be quiet if he wanted, or write if he wanted, and let music and pretty words spill out of him without feeling self-conscious. The place where he didn’t have to hide who he was, where it wasn’t about taking care of his family.
But when we were together now it felt heavy, like we were suffocating, and I was pissy with him, and he was defensive, and we didn’t talk the way we used to.
“Why do you love me?” I found myself asking. I didn’t know where the question came from, and had I said words like that in front of anyone other than Remy, I would have felt insecure. Hell, I wouldn’t have wanted anyone to hear me ask something like that, except him.
His fingers fumbled on the guitar strings. He stopped playing and looked over at me. He was thinner than he used to be, his eyes tired. “What do you mean?”
Remy’s question was annoying as shit, so I rolled my eyes. “I mean exactly what I said. Why do you love me?”
“Law…”
“Answer the question,” I said, my voice tighter than it had been.
He sighed. “Because being with you was the first time I felt like me…or that being me was enough or not weird. That it didn’t matter if I got lost in myself or obsessed about music or didn’t feel comfortable with the attention on me unless I was singing. Because you make me laugh and smile in ways no one else can. And because you’re the type of guy to see something in someone like me. You’re so fucking brave, Law. Hell, you hadn’t even realized you were bisexual before that first night, yet you were in it from the start. Because you laugh at my jokes, even though they’re dumb. Because you have your own dreams—that you’ve realized you want to cook and you think it’s a small dream and that it doesn’t matter, but you want it anyway. Because you love your family enough that you might not do it because you feel this obligation to continue their legacy. And because you send me songs you think I’d like, and because you always give change to homeless people when you walk by them, and you ask about my mom and my siblings even though you’ve never met them. You offer to help my mom even though you can’t. Because…”
He paused.
I held my breath.
“Because you feel like music to me.”
Jesus fucking Christ. My goddamned eyes were watering, and there was this ache in my chest. I wanted to go to him and stay with him and forget all the hard shit when he said stuff like that to me. But I knew I couldn’t. If I didn’t say it now, we’d keep going, but nothing would change. Nothing would get fixed. Things between us were rotting away, getting worse.
“But not enough to claim me publicly as yours?”
“Law…” He shook his head, no other words coming out.
I sat on the edge of the bed, feet on the floor, looking at him. I might be like music to him, but I wasn’t music. That would always come first. I didn’t know if I had the right to begrudge him that. It was his livelihood. How he took care of his family. His dream. And I knew it wasn’t fair to ever push someone to come out. It had to be their choice. But I also knew I couldn’t keep doing this. It was slowly killing me. “I can’t do this anymore, Rem. I…can’t.”
He set his guitar on the floor beside him. I saw him folding in on himself, the curl of his spine and the way the bones in his body seemed to melt. I hated it because I knew that in a lot of ways, I was all he had. His mom was great, but he worried about her future, being able to take care of her, and he was afraid to tell her who he was. His siblings used him for money, just kept taking and taking, and eventually, I was afraid they would take until he had nothing left to give. Remy didn’t open up to people, didn’t let them see those vulnerable pieces inside, yet he did with me. But being a secret for five years was breaking me. Eventually, I was afraid there would be nothing left.