Starting from Zero (Starting from 1)

He waited patiently for me to continue, but I couldn’t speak. I was tongue-tied and scared. So fucking scared.

“What is it?” he asked softly.

“I love you. I don’t love you a little. I love you so much, my heart hurts and my head…my head is somewhere over Mars right now.”

Gray opened his mouth and closed it. “Mars? Okay. That’s good.”

“No, it’s fucking nuts. I’m nuts.” I shoved a hand in my hair and tugged at it in frustration. “We’re light years apart. You’re smart and accomplished. You’re well respected and wealthy and—I’ve got a ways to go.”

“There’s no rush. You’re perfect the way you are.”

“I’m not. I’m a jealous asshole who has some growing up to do. I hope you get your love song. You deserve it.” I managed a ghost of a smile, then kissed his cheek before turning away.

“Wait. Justin!”

I passed through the sunlit rooms one last time and headed for the entry. I didn’t pause to take in the view or admire the beauty around me. I couldn’t see or hear well now. I couldn’t speak and the thought of food made me ill. I felt myself shut down and begin to fade until I wondered if I could be partially invisible. Here, but no longer present.

10

Justin

“Christ! Where the fuck have you been? I’ve been worried sick about you, asshole,” Tegan yelled.

I sank into a corner of the sofa and sighed. “I’m sorry.”

He waited for an explanation but didn’t press when I remained quiet. “It was very uncomfortable after you left. Charlie was pissed at his dad. Rourke was pissed at you. We couldn’t wait to get outta there.”

“No, I meant I’m sorry I walked out on the deal. Don’t get me wrong, I’d do it again in a heartbeat, but I’d give you a heads-up first,” I clarified.

Tegan inclined his head. “We’re all behind you. It was the right thing to do. A less volatile exit would have been cool, but hey…that’s how you roll.”

“Yeah. I ’spose so. I guess we start over again from scratch,” I said, rubbing my jaw.

“Well, sort of. We still have that gig next week at The Fix. Charlie’s trying to nail another one down for the following weekend.”

“He still wants to work with us?” I asked.

“Of course he still wants us. We’re gonna make him a gazillionaire someday. Carmine will be begging us to play his club next month and we’ll have to say, ‘Sorry, man. We’ll be at the Troubador.’ C’mon, Jus. Shake it off. It’s a bump in the road. We’ll get over it together and move on.”

I didn’t think it would be quite that easy for me, but I nodded in silent agreement. “Hey, any chance we can switch cars tonight? My engine light is on, but it’ll get you to Vibes and back.”

“Sure. Where you goin’?” Tegan asked, looking slightly worried again.

“Home.”

* * *

I showed up on my brother’s doorstep an hour later. He welcomed me with a fist bump and a bro hug and put me to work chopping vegetables. We sat on the sofa, eating stir fry when Christian arrived, and watched some weird documentary about haunted houses. During commercials, I filled them in on my craptastic day. When Christian went into the kitchen to feed their cat, Rory leaned in and spoke softly.

“You love him, don’t you?”

“Who, Christian?” I asked in mock confusion.

Rory smacked my arm. “No, idiot. Christian’s mine. I’m talking about the music man.”

“What makes you think that?”

“You hardly ate, and you’ve got a mopey, sad look on your face.”

“I’m not sad,” I lied, staring at my worn Converse. “I just wish it was simpler.”

“Don’t we all? But the real thing is worth working for.” Rory patted my knee and shifted on the sofa. “I’ll grab you an extra blanket and a pillow.”

The steady creak of bedsprings woke me in the middle of the night. I put the pillow over my head and tried to go back to sleep, but my brain immediately revved into fifth gear. I replayed the day over and over. And all the associating emotions came along for the ride. The excitement and nerves of actually signing a real-life contract with a band I founded followed by the slow, sinking sensation that something wasn’t right. I’d been angry and disappointed too, but the only feeling that stuck with me was a bone-deep sadness. The longer I lay there, the more agitated and unhappy I became. I couldn’t fix this. I couldn’t erase his past or reshape it to make room for myself. But I couldn’t be an opening act in my own life. I had to be the main event.

I had to be honest.

I rolled off the sofa, folded the blanket, and set the pillow on top with a short thank-you note. Then I snuck out of the apartment and headed home.