51-Zach
In the sunrise’s lilac glow, Kit looked like he was carved out of the glorious morning, and the image burned itself into my retinas.
We caught breakfast at the local diner, Yensil working as the perfect buffer between mine and Kit’s solemn silence. The drive back has been a careful kind of quiet; where even breathing too loudly feels like it might crack the fragile truth between us.
My clammy hands curl around the wheel. Stale coffee from the diner and pine from Kit’s hoodie fill the enclosed space.
Kit cradles a disposable cup, shoulders tense, jaw tight.
The weight of his thoughts press against the windows, though he doesn’t say a word.
Trees blur past in soft streaks of green and grey, the mid-morning light still thin.
“Neither of your broken hearts are yet strong enough to carry the weight of the other,” Endymion’s warning echoes in the back of my mind.
He told me to leave Kit’s heart be. If I leave Kit alone, if I let him go, Endymion will set me free. That’s the deal. He swore it.
I stare ahead, the thought sitting heavy.
Kit looks at me when he thinks I’m not paying attention, and it’s as though he’s memorizing me, like he’s terrified he’ll forget my face. And that’s exactly why I can’t let this become more. I’ve never felt closer to anyone than I did with Kit in that bed. But closeness is dangerous.
It’s a promise waiting to be broken.
Last night, when he finally fell asleep beside me, his face all soft lines and quiet strength, I watched the steady rise and fall of his chest. He looked young. Vulnerable.
Breakable.
We have a month before the end of the tour. One month before the world pulls us in opposite directions; him back to London, and me to LA. If I let myself fall any further into him, I won’t survive the landing.
I’d rather lose one night than weeks of pretending we’re something we can’t be. I can hold onto the memory, but I can’t allow it to grow into something that will hollow me out when it inevitably ends. It’s easier to keep him at arm’s length than let him become another ghost I carry.
Because I know myself. I know my heart, and the way I love—all-in; reckless and consuming.
I couldn’t handle losing him. Not after knowing how entangled our lives have always been, how our stories have twisted around each other long before we ever met. Not after feeling the way his presence steadies the parts of me that I’ve never been able to calm on my own.
The sky brightens as we approach Milwaukee. Tonight’s show is a commitment I’m not sure I want to execute anymore. Kit glances at me, quick and searching. I force a small smile. He returns it, barely.
Keeping him at a distance isn’t cruelty. It’s mercy, for both of us.
“Ooh, hello there, love,” Seth drawls from behind me, “and where may you be off to?”
Seth carries a hazy charcoal scent, like burnt paper and graphite. The show ended twenty minutes ago, but he’s in full costume, sweat-slicked hair plastered to his forehead. He keeps pace beside me, hands in his pockets, humming a soft melody.
“I’m going to meet a friend.” My chest is still raw from this morning, but I shove it down before Seth can read it on my face.
“A friend.” He strokes his red-streaked goatee, the gesture leaving a smudge of makeup on his knuckle. “Is this a boyfriend?”
“More like a girlfriend.” I sidestep a crate of cables blocking the walkway.
“Ooh?” His blocky brows shoot up. “Didn’t know you rode that way, Miss Zachary.”
“No, not like that.” I shift my weight, my boots squeaking. “Like a friend-friend. Like a mate.”
“I know, I’m only windin’ ya up.” He laughs, wiping sweat from his cheek with his cloak sleeve. Grinning wide, he’s beautiful in that rugged sort of way, with a sharp jaw, hacked dark curls, and a pair of eyes to match. “Ya grew round here, yeah?”
“Went to college here,” I answer as we reach the loading bay. “There’s a bar right outside campus. Sorry, my ride share is outside, and I’m actually running late.”
“Good on ’em.” Seth’s teasing fades into something gentler. He cups my chin, tilting my face up so I have to meet his eyes. “Just be back before the buses leave.”
“I will,” I say quietly, and he pats my cheek, affectionate and brotherly.
“Ya look good,” he says casually, shrugging. “Like a weight’s off yer shoulders.”
We know exactly what or who he means.
Seth nudges me with his elbow. “Look, love, whatever’s goin’ on with you, or not goin’ on, just don’t let it eat ya, yeah?”
Dread twists low in my stomach. Seth isn’t just Kit’s bandmate. He’s his friend. A confidant. And I’m painfully aware that Seth knows things about Kit I don’t. Thoughts that he’ll never tell me.
I swallow. “Yeah.”
But my mind is already spiraling.
How much does Seth know? Does he know how Endymion threads himself through Kit’s life like a shadow stitched to his spine? About the way he threads through mine?
“Go on then.” Seth opens the door to the back lot, the night air spilling in cold and sharp. “Before I get sentimental.”
I slip into the night and pretend that I’m not unraveling.
Seth’s right; a weight has been taken off my shoulders, only for a far more terrifying thing to settle in its place.