Twenty-Four
Avory
We spend the rest of our time before that fated alarm with our lips pressed together and our hands trailing over each other, as friends with a whole load of attraction towards each other. Why is it so damn hard to ask him for us to be so much more than that?
My heart must have bashed through my ribs and against my chest at the thought that this is really happening. A term which I have never imagined using, and now all I want to do is use it for this gorgeous barista who I merely stumbled upon one day in a foreign town to myself.
I want him as my partner, and I wish for him to feel the same about me.
Partners fit together even in a world where we are so different, partners understand one another even in silence, partners ache for each other. We fit, we understand, and God, I ache for him.
I might as well float away from the café, my legs feeling as if they could pull me up and amongst the clouds. I never thought I'd be the guy who stares at his feet and laughs at the sheer situation he's in as my cheeks grow hot.
I'm seeing this gorgeous, gorgeous, gorgeous man who I cannot see outside of his workplace turned prison, our gigs are flying past as I forget how many gigs we've even done at this point, and the scouts who observed our performances are still lingering with an answer. If we even get an answer.
I practically skip through the shop’s front door, the bell’s twinkling accompanying each step I take towards the stairs and up to our current home. As I reach for the front door handle, the bass fuelling Marcus’ voice echoes and I barely manage to make out the words, but nothing responds to him, so I assume he’s on the phone.
“This is an absolutely amazing opportunity, thank you, ma’am! Yes, I’m glad you all enjoyed it.”
Marcus hums in agreement and I can imagine him nodding and pacing around as he replies to this mysterious caller.
The front door creaks as I sneak myself in the best I can to avoid disturbing his puzzling phone call. Alas, Marcus is alerted by my noise and a hand waves in my direction, and I raise mine in response.
“Yes, he’s over eighteen, I was his guardian before he outgrew me.”
I raise an eyebrow to Marcus’ comment as his chest puffs then tightens with each chuckle he releases.
“No no no, don’t worry, we’re able to be there by then! Once again, thank you so much! I’ll be in touch.”
Marcus misses the bright, red button three times before smacking his thumb into the screen while cursing to himself. He shoves his phone back into his pocket and our eyes meet over the island. I press my palms onto the cooling marble surface which slowly soothes the electric excitement that grows between us, becoming positively overwhelming.
My mind fumbles over how Marcus could possibly react to his nephew finally accepting he wants a relationship, but before I can process anything else, my lips beat my mind, and our voices filled the room as we speak in unison.
“You clearly have news.”
“You clearly have news.”
“You go first.”
“You go first.”
“No, you.”
“No, you.”
“ALRIGHT!”
Marcus’s voice holds an immense amount of bass compared to mine.
I purse my lips together to contain the building laughter I have which I know will turn into a cackle. I hate that I love how in sync we are.
“Count to three? And we both say our news?”
I nod to his suggestion and suddenly, my heartbeat quickens and lodges itself in my throat. I’m about to say these words out loud to someone else who isn’t Sawyer. I’ve been with countless amounts of people in my past, but no one has ever made me feel the warmth that brews inside me when I’m with him. I can’t explain what Sawyer does or doesn’t do, but I find myself missing a part of myself that I never knew existed when I’m away from him. A part of me which wants to sit, drink coffee which he makes, hold his lips against mine, learning every single aspect of his mind and body and for him to do the same with me. Three, two, one…
“I think I’m falling—”
“We’ve just been scouted!”
The words catch in my throat and Marcus is yet to hear my news, and for a few moments, I don’t care.
We’ve been scouted.
After years of performing, rehearsing, moving in and out of countless homes, we finally have our shot out there. Our shot to make Bright Lights a reality. Our elation overpowers every other emotion possible as I leap towards Marcus, my legs gripping around his hips and Marcus’ robust arms enveloping me. As my legs slowly begin to slip, I plant my feet on the floor, the sudden thud rumbling through my legs making me realise how weak I have gotten.
Marcus’ hands cup over my shoulders while I rest mine on his forearms. Our laughter dies down and a comforting silence falls between us. A silence which celebrates that we finally did it. Marcus’ eyes fix onto mine and a smile spreads from ear to ear, waves of creases settling in across his cheeks and under his eyes.
His eyes begin to well up, his eyelines shimmering with the overhead lighting, and I struggle to choke out the words that I want to thank him. To thank him for getting us to where we are today, to thank him for taking me on and for allowing me to be a part of this incredible journey which became ours. But before I can speak, Marcus sniffles and begins.
“This woman, Rae, she saw our show on the beach and loved us! She dug around backstage for us, but we were long gone so she got our contact info from that Brendon kid.”
To think that we were so close to having a scout find us back then makes my head light. We really could have been anywhere else right now if we had hung about even a few minutes more, or if our set had run over somehow, but instead my head begins to spiral while we remain in our flat in Tetherton.
If we had been scouted back then, I wouldn’t be stood here now with an attraction to an incredible yet bruised man, who I fear is about to shatter further than I believe he can recover from. Gwen’s words echo in my mind about Sawyer’s trust, Sawyer’s past, Sawyer’s pain, and to know that I am likely to add to this causes my body to burn in flashes of overwhelming heat.
Marcus’ smooth tone anchors my mind back to the flat, to the present
“She already knows of a band who may like us to support, and a load of festivals who would kill for our sound, A!”
I feel my head and my heart rip between the two people I care for the most, and it scares me that Sawyer has already taken the position of one of those people. Sawyer’s smile takes its form in my mind throughout all the mess that is currently flooding my thoughts, and yet it somehow blesses me with a sense of calm. I can feel my breathing again and the need to remove everything from my body because it is too damn hot is dissipating slowly. I manage to fumble some sort of sentence from my lips, and I’m sure Marcus has noticed my sudden lack of enthusiasm as he begins to rub his hands back and forth over my shoulders.
I dread asking this question, but I need to hear him tell me. “That’s great, amazing even. So, when do we leave?”
I’m convinced I heard him earlier on the phone, but I need to understand how much longer I have with Sawyer. How much longer I have before I need to say goodbye and forget the man who made me feel this comforting fire, who made me see colours that only we can see, who made me speak languages which only we will ever understand. But not for much longer.
“We leave early next week! We’ll need to start getting the boxes out again and packing up. This flat served us well, don’t you think?”
I nod and release the most half-hearted laugh I can muster with the emotions which are currently swirling around my mind and throughout all my limbs. I have never, once in my life, not wanted to leave somewhere. I have never had this urge to hold Marcus by the collar and to call on all the confidence I can find to convince him that we don’t need to leave.
I need air, I need something cold to run across my body because I can feel the sweat building under my layers.
Marcus pats my shoulder twice and I attempt to sprint for my bedroom, and with each step, I can feel my eyes watering, my vision becoming harder to comprehend.
As my hand reaches for the door handle, his voice becomes soft, kind as he speaks, “You’re not excited, are you?”
I can hear the consideration in his voice. I can hear that he cares. I can’t do this to him, though. It’s not fair when he dropped everything for me, I need to do the same for him.
I choke up on my words, and once again, Marcus’ hand is on my shoulder and his voice quiet. “Can I take a guess as to why?”
He knows.
“I assume that it’s to do with the news you were going to tell me earlier?”
I spin around and my head buries into Marcus’ shoulder as his arms surround me once more. I scrunch his beige polo into my hands, hoping that taking my emotional overload out with one squeeze, until my knuckles turn ghostly, will somehow help.
It doesn’t.
Instead, cooling streams streak down my face as the air in the room bites and makes me fully aware that I am crying. Marcus lays his hand on the back of my head and slowly strokes my wild waves and curls – a comfort which he used to use whenever I cried over my parents when I was younger.
My vocals muffle as I speak into Marcus’ chest. “It’ll be fine, I’ll speak to him tomorrow, I—”
“Avory, you don’t always have to be fine. It’s okay not to be okay for once. You have actually defied everything I taught you and developed a connection with someone.”
We chuckle because, he’s right. Marcus always rambles on about how connections and romantic feelings towards others are no good when you live a travelling life like ours, and here I am, going against all of his wild teachings and falling for a barista with a heart and mind worthy of gold. And I have fallen hard.
“If there was a way we could stay, we would, because you have been the happiest I’ve ever seen you in so long.”
Marcus pulls himself back from our embrace and kisses the top of my head briefly. I nod, because that’s all I can bring myself to do. Words are sharp and painful within my throat, and they refuse to move. I have no idea as to how I’m going to tell him that this—us, is over.