“I'm not sure that experience was really . . . happy,” Caleb admitted. Something he should have told Leo when they were in Fiji. He shouldn't have held it in. Knowing he'd made a mistake and not doing anything to fix it. “I don't think Brad Maxwell and I are right for each other,” he said. Even though it was hard to admit it, terrifying to voice the truth out loud, the world didn't shake and Leo didn't leave. He just shot Caleb a knowing look.
“Yeah,” Leo said. “I could've told you that.”
“Why didn't you?”
Leo shrugged. “It was something you needed to figure out for yourself. If I'd told you, I'm not sure you would've listened to me.”
For a second, Caleb almost argued with him. Of course he would've listened. He cared about what Leo thought. He knew he was smart and music-savvy. He was a fantastic songwriter and had a skilled touch when he put his producing hat on. But then he thought some more, and realized, he'd been so bullheaded about needing to make his own way, make his own choices, that he might not have listened to Leo. Even though he knew better, and even though Brad hadn't exactly done things the way Caleb would have.
“It wasn't a total loss,” Caleb said, and realized he meant it. It hadn't been. He'd learned what didn't work for him. And the songs they'd worked on? They were good. Maybe Brad Maxwell's methods weren't Caleb's methods, but that didn't mean they hadn’t created something spectacular with them.
“It wasn't,” Leo agreed. “I really liked the one song you played for me. I think you could tweak it a little, make it a little more you, and it'd be a great lead single for your album.”
Leo had seemed so strangely wishy-washy about the song when they'd been in Fiji—not quite liking it and then liking it a lot more the next morning—that Caleb was surprised. “Really?”
Leo shrugged. “It's way showier than I think you want, but that's not a terrible thing, really. Sometimes we need someone to push us out of our comfort zone.”
But I always want that to be you, Caleb thought.
“And it can't always be me,” Leo added wryly, like he could see inside Caleb's mind.
Caleb reached for Leo and pulled him close, holding him tightly. “I want it to be you, always,” he admitted softly into Leo's neck. “Even when it can't be.”
“I know,” Leo murmured, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. “But we're going to figure this out. Together.”
And for the first time in what felt like weeks, but was probably more like months, Caleb believed him.
“Together,” Caleb echoed.
INTERLUDE
Two years earlier
Caleb couldn't sleep again. He lay awake, staring at his ceiling, knowing that resisting the pull was impossible. He already knew what he would do; it was inevitable. Finally, he climbed out of bed, threw on a sweatshirt, pulled the hood up, tied on his sneakers, and took off at a slow, easy jog for an address he knew better than any other.
Climbing into the backyard was easy enough; easy enough that Caleb regretted living here for many years, with so many rabid fans around, and never making sure their security was tighter. But then, they'd both been young and stupid back then—and they'd spent so little time actually at home.
Jumping the low fence that separated the beach from the stairway to the yard and the house, Caleb nimbly made his way up the stairs, even though it was nearly black outside. He could hear the rumble and crash of the ocean, and as he'd expected, the house was completely dark.
It reassured him, for some reason Caleb didn't want to examine too closely, why coming here never failed to make him feel better. You want to make sure Leo is safe, that voice whispered in the back of his head. But it was more than that; he felt safe here, the remnants of a time when this had been the one place on earth where he felt comfortable and protected and free.
He lay down in the cool grass, using the hood of his sweatshirt to pillow his head, and stared up at the sky. They were too close to LA to see the stars here—they'd always talked about buying a house, maybe out in the wilds of Arizona or Montana, where they could properly see the stars. Leo had always felt connected to them, and after he and Leo had fallen in love, Caleb had grown to feel a similar affinity. Of course, that might also be because their bodies were carefully inked with them, so many patterns and shapes and figures all made of stars.
Every single tattoo meant something. It was one of the ways they'd fought back against the management that had tried to control them. It was hard for their management to claim that he and Leo disliked each other when they kept staring at each other so sappily and when their bodies were covered in tattoos that were practically puzzle pieces, begging to be fit together.
Caleb was so entranced by trying to make out the dimmed stars that he missed the noticeable creak of the back door opening, and he only realized at the last second that he was about to be discovered. He panicked. All the progress he'd made in getting Leo to look at him again, to even be in the same room without being silent and awkward, would go up in flames when he discovered that Caleb had been sneaking into his backyard.
Slowly, he stood, and said, “Leo,” in the calmest voice he could manage as he walked into the section of the backyard that was better lit.
Leo looked absolutely terrified, clutching a bottle of water in his hands, like he'd been thinking of using it as a weapon.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” he cried out.
The last thing he'd wanted was for Leo to discover his secret, but now that it was out, there was nothing to do but tell the truth. He shrugged. “I come here sometimes,” he said, “when I can't sleep.”
Leo stared at him, cheekbones and sunken valleys under his eyes thrown into relief from the shadows throughout the garden. “Oh.”
“I know I shouldn't,” he said hurriedly, because that was obvious. This wasn't his home. Not anymore. He'd given up that right when he'd walked out, five years ago.
But instead of doing something rash and Leo-like, like call the police or scream the neighborhood awake, he plopped down, right on the grass, like this was all normal.
“You're already here,” Leo said, gesturing to a spot next to him. “You might as well.”
So Caleb sat down again, but kept his distance. He wasn't about to make the same mistake he had the night they'd kissed. Emotions had gotten away from him then, billowing and pushing and making him believe that no matter what had happened in the past, Leo still wanted him. And maybe he still did, but he didn't want to want Caleb. The tension between them was just tattered fragments of a past neither of them could forget.
“I couldn't sleep either,” Leo admitted.
It should have made Caleb feel better that maybe Leo was struggling as much as he was; it didn't. “Nervous about tomorrow?”
“Yes. No. I don't know,” Leo said, throwing his hands into the air, towards the stars. Such a typical Leo answer. Caleb had to hide his smile before it took over his face.
“Which is it?” he asked.
“No,” Leo finally said.
Caleb refused to examine his answer too closely. If he wasn't nervous about their dress rehearsal tomorrow, then he was thinking about something else, thinking about something else so much that he couldn't sleep. It's not you, he told himself firmly, even as he completely, totally, one hundred percent believed that it had to be him.