Chapter 40
FALLING STAR
One hour earlier…
I walk away for five minutes, and everything falls apart.
If I were alone with Devon, I’m sure he’d pour out the truth, every raw piece. I’d finally hold the entire puzzle in my hands. But with Kelly stepping in as his therapist, I’m left stranded and seething, forced to watch from the sidelines.
I’ve never seen Devon like this—like someone tore his heart out, held it up to him, then crushed it in plain sight. His eyes overflowed with angry tears, but his voice…it was ruined, broken like glass underfoot.
The sound one makes when something or someone dies.
Pure devastation.
I don’t ever want to hear that sound again.
It’s why I’m discreet as I demand Michael’s location via text. It’s why I know that the minute I see that man—kiss or not—feelings be damned, I’m getting to the bottom of this. It’s too fucking much, and Dreadful is due on stage in mere hours.
Devon doesn’t deserve this.
Once I have the name of the bar Michael is hiding in, I inch closer to my cousin and my… Fuck, I don’t even have a label for us.
It feels premature to call him my boyfriend, and lover feels dirty.
“Kel,” I start. She offers Devon a water bottle, and he takes it with a mumbled thanks. “Can you give me a minute?”
She studies me, her eyes grazing over every inch. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Lex.”
I sigh. Of course, she thinks I’m going to yell at him for fighting. “Please,” I insist.
“It’s okay,” Devon tells her.
“If I hear any more yelling, I’m coming back with a hatchet.” She shoots me a look that promises as much.
Raising my hands in surrender, I nod. “No yelling.”
“I’m serious. Limbs will be scattered.”
“I like my limbs where they are.”
“Good.” With that, she leaves the dressing room.
Once I’m sure she’s gone, I rush to Devon. He clings to me immediately, face buried in my chest, his arms desperately tight. “Are you okay?” I whisper, planting a soft kiss atop his head. His Mohawk is deflated tonight, a quiet detail that makes me ache for him.
Warm hands stroke up my back. “I don’t think so,” he admits. “But I’m happy you’re here—letting me hold you.”
“You guys have a few hours before you have to be on stage, but with Michael gone…I’m not sure if Oli can play his parts or if—”
“Baby,” he croaks, lifting his head to look up at me. “I love that you’re so good at your job, but I need you right now. Not my manager.”
A tiny gasp slips past my lips. He’s never given this a label before. It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him that maybe we should hold off on naming things. We have only just resolved some of our problems. But I can’t bring myself to do it.
His hazel eyes search mine, pleading with me.
“Okay,” I conceded with a sigh. “What happened?”
“I just lost my best friend.” Tears well in his eyes, those thick lashes clumping together as they start to fall.
It breaks my heart. I cup his face, kiss him, and then pull him back to my chest so he can cry it out. “Can you tell me why? I didn’t want to push…but you two have barely said two words to each other the entire tour. Things seemed…fine before that.”
He flinches. “Doesn’t matter. He’s done with me.”
A thousand guesses race through my mind, but none seem right. I have no idea why Michael would cut him off. What if he told Devon about us? About the kiss? I grimace, holding Devon tighter.
“I’m sorry,” I say into his hair, knowing the apology is for more than just this moment.
“I love him so much,” he cries. “He’s…I just love him, Lex.”
It stings, sharp and deep. But I force myself to push through the pain, refusing to let it take me under.
Of course, Devon loves Michael.
And for whatever reason, Michael doesn’t love him back, even on a platonic level.
“I’m so sorry,” I say again, kissing wherever I can reach. “I’m so sorry.”
Sniffling, he leans back again, urging me to sit on his lap. I do and wrap my arms around his neck. “You’re amazing, you know that, right?”
My smile is weak and forced. “No I’m not.”
“Yes, you are. Everyone knows it. Even now, you’re putting yourself last.”
“Comforting you is hardly putting myself last.”
“I just said I love another man.”
Fuck. It aches as much as the first time. “He’s your best friend,” I murmur, trying to convince myself as much as him.
“Yeah,” he sighs, absently stroking my hips. “It’s my fault he wants nothing to do with me.”
“Please tell me what happened,” I whisper. “I deserve to know.” As soon as I say it, my stomach lurches. I don’t deserve to know anything, not after keeping so much from him.
Again, trying to peek instead of trusting the jump.
He stares into my eyes for long seconds. Is he going to tell me? Do I really want to know?
I’ve wanted to do this for a while.
I’ll probably regret it tomorrow.
It’s not a choice. It’s who I am.
Michael’s voice floods my thoughts. The things he said, the way he said them, and to me, of all people. I’m torn between wanting to fix their relationship while desperately wanting to know where I stand.
“It doesn’t matter what happened,” Devon finally whispers. “He made his choice.”
“But the band—”
“Will be fine. This isn’t the first time we’ve been on non-speaking terms.”
“Devon—”
“Please, Lex,” he urges. “Just be with me.”
I sigh and nod. He kisses me, using my lips as a balm to his broken heart.
If I can help him in this way, I will. Even if I shouldn’t.
Because I’ve somehow managed to tangle myself into so many knots that once they come loose, everything will fall apart.
I find Michael slumped against the building, half-conscious.
It took me longer than I expected to grab an Uber and get down here.
Meanwhile, back at the venue, Dreadful is going on stage any minute, and without Michael.
Thankfully, my cousin figured out how to layer the rhythm parts from each track onto her keyboard and sync them to the speakers.
Oli was more than comfortable playing Michael’s parts.
Devon pulled himself together enough to go out on stage.
I have to fix this, but I don’t know how.
“Michael,” I bark, kicking at his shoe.
He gazes up at me, squinting. He’s wasted. Obliterated.
“Just leave,” he slurs. “I’m fine.”
“You are not fine,” I growl. “You’ve fucked everything up, and now I have to handle it.”
Bending so I can grab his arms, I tug him to his feet.
The man instantly sways, crashing into me.
With careful steps, I all but carry him to the Uber and stuff him inside.
The driver eyes us but doesn’t comment. It’s then that I notice the sign taped to the back of his seat. Please don’t throw up in my car.
Thankfully, Michael nods off and doesn’t seem like he’s going to puke. Small miracles.
After returning to the venue, with the driver's help, we get Michael out, and I lead him towards the bus.
He staggers, leaning into me heavily. By sheer fucking stubbornness, I get him up the steps and inside.
We make it only a handful of feet before he collapses on the sofa.
I rake a hand through my hair, pissed, scared, and worried all at once.
“I’m quitting,” he tells me, arm dangling off the edge and one leg tossed over the armrest.
“You are not.”
“I’m quitting Dreadful.”
“No.” My voice is like a gunshot. Loud and fast. “You don’t get to run away and hide in a fucking bottle every time something gets hard! Do you even care, Michael? About the band? About Devon?”
About me?
I don’t say it, but it’s there. The feeling. The knowledge that, for a handful of minutes, I believed it to be true.
“I can’t do this anymore,” he cries. Actually cries. It’s the second time I’ve seen it happen, and it's still equally as shocking. “I can’t fucking do it.”
“DO WHAT?!” I bellow, hands flying into my hair. “I’m so confused, and neither of you will cough up what happened!”
Squatting down so we are eye level, I search his stupid, beautiful face for answers. It’s not lost on me that I once said the same thing to him not long ago—admitted I wanted to quit. Michael convinced me to stay. I held off on looking for other bands to represent because he said they needed me.
He needed me.
I could help if only he’d let me.
“If I’m not quitting, neither are you. We can figure this out. Whatever it is. But I can’t help if I don’t know what the problem is. Please,” I beg. “Dreadful will fall apart without you.” Jaw clenched tight, he shakes his head, breaking eye contact. “You stubborn asshole!”
Scrambling closer, I fist the front of his shirt and shake him. I guess the physical contact is enough to rouse him to fight back. He snatches up my wrists, shoots upright, and growls at me. Growls. Like a damn dog.
“I’m being ripped apart,” he snaps. “Every day, every hour, every minute. It’s my fucking choice to leave, and I will.”
“This is your dream! All you’ve ever wanted!”
“It’s not!”
I wince at the sheer volume of his voice.
“It’s not what I want! Being examined under a fucking microscope by strangers. Having my every move judged and mocked. I never wanted this.”
He releases my wrists, slumps on the couch, and quickly scrubs his face. He blows out a jagged breath. “Being famous is a nightmare,” he spits. “I don’t want to do it anymore.”
“People love you,” I tell him gently. “You’re so talented. So what if people talk shit on the internet? How does that affect you?”
"The same way people talking behind your back affects you,” he growls.
“Because it’s true…,” I trail off, brain firing with a million realizations.
After the last tour, I took over the band’s social media.
I wanted to shield them from the cruelty pouring through the screen, venomous words people wouldn’t dare utter in person.
But I never realized how deeply Michael felt every jab, every rumor—how those words twisted inside him and left scars I couldn’t see.
The biggest speculation is that he’s just as queer as the rest of his bandmates.
When he meets my eyes again, there’s a haunted sheen over them.
I can’t imagine what it’d feel like to have so many people peg you as something when you haven’t admitted it yourself.
To see through your armor and masks, only to drag those deep vulnerabilities through the mud.
It’s no one’s business but yours. I know the question I want to ask, but it’s inappropriate. Besides, I think I know the answer.
Michael does like men. And he’s scared to death.
His best friend has been pining for him for years, he’s kissed me even though he openly admitted he’d regret it, and the forced proximity is too much. I’ve never seen something so clearly before. The struggle. The pain. The running away. My eyes soften with empathy.
“I have to quit,” he slurs. “I’m only going to hurt the people I care about.”
“We can help you,” I tell him. “Let us help. You have so many people who love you, Michael.”
“It’s too late.”
I shake my head and take his hands. “How can you think that? So what if you guys fought? Friends fight and argue. They still make up, still fix things in the end.”
If Devon and I can fix what we broke, I know the same can be said for him and Michael. Since he’s refusing to tell me what split them apart, I have to work with what I have and try to mend that bridge with flimsy sticks and tape. If anyone can do it, it’s me. That’s why they fucking hired me.
I fix broken things since I can’t fix myself.
“Why don’t you sleep on it?” I say when he doesn’t answer me. “You’re drunk. It’s never a good idea to make decisions like this.”
A bitter smile lifts his lips as he squeezes my fingers. “I’m glad he has you.”
“What?” I croak. My brows zip together.
“Devon. He’s been following you around like a lost puppy for weeks. And after Chicago, I suspected…I’m happy he has you.” His eyes flick up to mine, clearer than before.
Are we that obvious? Does everyone know? My cheeks burn. “We…um…I…”
“Thanks for everything, Lex. But I’ve made up my mind.” He leans forward and kisses my forehead.
The move shocks me, especially after everything he just said.
That one gesture resurges all the confusing emotions I’ve been trying to ignore.
We are holding hands. I’m on my knees between his legs.
And his lips are against my skin. I don’t want him to quit the band. I don’t want him to leave us—me.
“Please, Michael.”
“I don’t want to hurt you, either,” he whispers, dragging his nose over mine.
My breath hitches. “You won’t.”
Releasing one of my hands, he cups my face. Searching my eyes and sighing heavily, he rasps, “I saw you first.”
His lips press into mine, and for a few blissful moments, everything feels like it’ll be okay.
But I hear a noise, and the world stops.