Chapter 12
I didn’t tell anyone about the night Sebastian and I spent together before I left the tour. I wasn’t sure if anyone would understand, hell I wasn’t sure if I understood what had happened between us.
That didn’t mean my subconscious wasn’t torturing me with vivid, Technicolor flashbacks every time I tried to go to sleep.
Every time I closed my eyes, I was bombarded with snippets of Sebastian’s skin flushing the sweetest shade of pink under my hands, a glimpse of his tongue swiping across his bitten bottom lip.
If I really focused, I could still feel the way his body moved with mine, could still hear the way Sebastian’s breath caught when I kissed him.
It was agony but I was convinced I deserved it; that it was the price I had to pay for my night with him and I was more than willing to pay it. After all, the memories of Sebastian were all I had left after putting thousands of miles between us.
Despite missing Sebastian so much it felt like a constant ache, I did feel a bit better once we got back to LA.
Abbey, Sara and I fell back into our routine like we’d never left.
It felt I could catch my breath for first time since Sebastian showed up in my driveway to invite me out on tour with him.
It was Kelly who found my therapist. Her name was Joanne and she was pretty much exactly what I pictured when I imagined what my therapist would be like.
She had neat, shoulder length light blonde hair and big brown eyes behind her dark red, wire rimmed glasses. She wore sensible jeans and cardigans.
“What should I call you?” She’d asked as she showed me into her office.
I glanced around, trying to get my bearings.
The room was painted a light, coffee color but there was nothing boring around the room.
She had little plants on every cluttered bookshelf, photos of her wife and kids hung alongside the certificates listing her qualifications.
She even had a bass guitar tucked into a corner.
“Max is fine,” I replied, sitting on the edge of the teal couch. I gripped my knees, hoping I didn’t look as nervous as I felt.
“Where did the nickname come from? Your first name is Gideon, right?”
It was an innocuous question, but I could tell she was trying to keep things casual while she sized me up. I knew this was part of the deal – I was going to tell Joanne things I’d never told anyone – but it still put me on edge, a little bit.
“I didn’t want to be called Gideon after…I left home. It didn’t fit, here.”
She nodded like she understood and I could tell from the easy warmth in her eyes that she did understand.
Kelly and I had talked about what kind of therapist I should have, and we both agreed it might be best for me to speak to someone who was also part of the LGBTQIA+ community, someone with a similar lived experience.
It wasn’t until I saw the empathy writ large on Joanne’s gentle features that I realized we’d definitely made the right call.
“Wanna talk about it?” Joanne asked with a wry grin.
I let out a shaking breath, nodded, and started talking.
I set up a recurring appointment with Joanne once a week.
I came to enjoy our sessions, even though I felt totally wrung out by the end of them.
Just telling my story to someone who understood was helping me feel better.
So many memories of my childhood and my early teen years felt fractured, like they’d been shattered when I ran away and decided to shut them out.
Joanne helped me put them back together, weave all the threads of my life into something that made more sense.
Mira decided to rejoin the Burning Bright tour after 3 weeks, to be with Jet.
We didn’t talk about it, beyond a quick phone call where I assured her I was happy for her.
For them. I hadn’t spoken to Sebastian or anyone else on the tour since we’d left and if I was secretly pleased that I’d have someone to check on Sebastian while I wasn’t there, well that was between me and my therapist.
It got harder to avoid the Burning Bright content once the tour hit the US.
Every time I opened one of the social media apps, or turned on the TV or radio, Sebastian was there.
His compelling voice, his clever lyrics, his gorgeous goddamn face – I couldn’t escape him, wasn’t even sure if I wanted to.
It was Joanne who brought him up, a month and half after I started seeing her. We’d just settled into her office. She’d made me some tea and I was taking a tentative sip when she decided to go there.
“So, are you planning on telling Sebastian that you’re still in love with him?” She asked, stirring her own tea.
I swallowed my tea so quickly it almost scalded my throat. I spent a minute coughing up a lung, glad for the distraction from her question. She waited me out, as frustratingly patient as ever.
“I don’t know. Do you think I should?”
“It doesn’t really matter what I think, Max. They’re your feelings, no one is entitled to them.”
“I was hoping for some guidance here, doc,” I muttered, putting my mug down on the coffee table. “It’s a really complicated situation.”
“How so?”
“Well, he’s one of the most famous musicians on the planet, for starters. Being with him means stepping into a pretty harsh spotlight. I’m not sure if I’m ready for that.”
“That’s fair. But you’re clearly comfortable with a level of fame, or you wouldn’t do what you do,” she pointed out.
“And just like your feelings, no one is entitled to your relationship with Sebastian, whatever form that might take. You don’t need to sacrifice your privacy to be with him.
There are practical steps you could take. ”
I mulled that over for a minute, although deep down I knew she was right.
I did keep a pretty low profile, despite the fact my band played to thousands of people.
I had social media accounts but mostly so that I could see what my friends posted.
I only really posted band stuff, promo material that the label sent me.
I didn’t mind when Sebastian posted the odd picture from tour that had me in it – all that internet talk was, and always had been, just background noise in my life.
“I suppose so,” I agreed. “But being with someone like Sebastian…someone who’s so proud of who he is…I don’t know if I’m there yet. I don’t know if I ever will be.”
“I understand,” Joanne said, glancing up from her little notepad.
“But self-acceptance isn’t some magical destination you just reach someday, and everything is perfect from there on out.
It’s a journey, Max. For some people, it takes a lifetime.
But that doesn’t mean you don’t deserve to love someone and be loved in return. ”
I took another sip of my tea, hoping it’d wash down the lump that was forming in my throat.
Joanne spoke with such authority; it was hard not to believe her.
I wasn’t sure exactly when I started trusting her, but I did, which meant by extension I had to trust what she was saying.
She believed I was worthy of love, even if I couldn’t quite believe it myself.
“I just…” my voice scraped my throat as I struggled to put words to what I was feeling. “Part of me wants to be perfect for him. Because I messed it up so badly, the first time round. ”
“There’s no such thing as perfection,” Joanne countered with a friendly smile.
I let my thoughts drift to Sebastian – the way his eyes lit up when he was on stage, how his voice rose and fell and twisted effortlessly through his band’s melodies, each carefully placed splash of color of his tattoos.
I thought about the way his favorite clothes clung to his lithe frame, the way his inky black hair curled around his little ears.
That smile, knowing and joyful and occasionally downright wicked, tucked into the corner of his mouth.
“We’ll just have to agree to disagree on that one, doc,” I sighed, putting my tea down. She grinned knowingly at me, like she knew exactly what – or who – I was thinking about.
“Well, like self-acceptance, relationships – romantic or otherwise – require work. Determination. You and Sebastian may be at different stages of accepting your sexuality, but that doesn’t necessarily mean a relationship wouldn’t work between you.
Maybe he could help you put the work in to getting to where you need to be. ”
“And how could my angst-ridden ass possibly help him?” I asked her, raising a brow.
“You could help Sebastian understand that not everyone is raised by a pair of New York artists who probably treated their child coming out like it was just another Tuesday. He gives you confidence, you give him an opportunity for reflection. Everyone grows as a result.”
“You make it sound so easy.”
“Only because you make it so complicated, Max,” she chuckled in reply, reaching for her own tea. “If you’re waiting for the moment where everything is perfect in order for you to start living your life the way you want to? You’re going to be waiting forever.”
◆◆◆
Going to therapy, spending time with Sara and Abbey, rehearsing with the band as our label started to put together our headlining tour in support of the album – it all helped distract me from the fact that I missed Sebastian so much it made my chest ache.
Abbey also somehow managed to convince me to go through what’s supposedly a time honored “getting over your relationship” tradition – cutting my hair off.
I’d started growing my hair out when I first got to LA.
Having long blond hair helped me fit in amongst the people I was hanging out with in California and I appreciated having something to hide behind whenever I felt awkward, or uncomfortable, which really was a lot of the time in those early days.