22. Varian

Iwoke up groggy.

Muffled voices. Whisper yelling. I blinked and sat up, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. Light shone through the cracks in the shades, but it wasn't high enough yet to be more than a warm glow. I loved dawn, but where had Arik gone?

I scanned the small space, my eyes getting used to the light, finally finding him leaning at the far end of the kitchen, whispering into his phone.

"I don't want to wake anyone else up. Can we talk about this later?"

I got up slowly, trying not to scare Arik.

His head turned in my direction the second I pushed to a stand. He put his hand over the receiver and mouthed, "Sorry."

"Not a big deal." I shrugged and pointed at the coffee pot.

He opened one of the cabinets and pointed. "I know. I'll call more. It's been a busy first couple of weeks. I am studying. I brought my LSAT books. At least one of them." He muttered the last.

I got to making coffee and lifted my chin at him, whispering, "Who's that?"

"My mom," he said before replying to her, "I'm going back to school. It's just one semester, and we talked about this. What has you so worked up?"

I leaned against the counter when I got the coffee going, not sure what to do. Not like I had any place to go, but I still felt bad listening.

He banged his head back into the cabinet and mouthed, "Tell the driver to pull over so I can throw myself off a bridge real quick… No, I didn't say anything. People are starting to wake up on the bus. It's a small space to be on the phone. That's why I don't call a lot." He put the call on speaker. "So why bring all this up again?"

"Most touring musicians don't make more than twenty or thirty thousand dollars a year. Is that what you want the rest of your life to look like? It's hard on your body and your mental health. Wouldn't you rather do something less intense and demanding? I just want you to really think about this lifestyle."

"Mom, I like it." Arik sighed, and I could tell he was already worn out.

"But will you like it in ten, fifteen, twenty years? It's going to be so hard on your body and your mental health," his mom continued.

"You say that, but when I think of sitting in an office for the rest of my life, I want to jump off a bridge. It's not better for my mental health, and it's not less work. The hours you and Dad work are just as bad. I see Dad coming home at nine, burned the fuck out. How would that be any better for my mental health?" Arik met my eyes and then rolled his.

"Money is the difference. It's not an easy life being poor. You've never had to live like that, but your father and I grew up in households where we couldn't afford basic things. It's harder than you could ever know. Neither of us wants that for you."

"I know, but it's who I am. Music is the only thing that gives me any happiness at all. I've already made money. We'll have royalties coming in, and our merch is selling. We are already getting more. Our manager just put in a huge order. The label is talking about a bigger tour after—" He cut himself off and made a face.

"Another tour?" His mother was a lawyer. She wasn't stupid. Arik didn't have to finish for her to put it together.

"Yeah, in the future, there are always plans."

"When will you have time for that? You said you're only taking one semester off." His mother's voice came cold. I hated it for him. My grandparents didn't want me to do this, but they never talked to me like that. They never acted like they didn't believe in me, just that they didn't want me to become anything like my parents.

"On breaks or after I graduate. All this stuff takes time." Arik gritted his teeth because they already had a possible opening spot lined up for after this tour with Spotlight, a massive alt punk band for most of the fall and maybe into the spring if it went well.

The silence over the line spoke volumes.

"Arik," she eventually said.

"I know. I really need to go. I haven't slept." He got two mugs down and the sugar.

"Have you been taking your meds?"

"Yes, Mom. I sleep during the day usually. It's normal for tour life. I'll take my meds and pass out. Don't worry." He dumped a ton into his cup, not even bothering to measure it.

"Is that good for you?" she asked.

I stared at him, grabbed the sugar from him, and put a teaspoon into my cup. "You're crazy," I muttered.

"It's fine. I love you. I'll talk to you later, okay?"

"Okay, honey."

He hung up the phone and slumped against the counter. "I need the energy from the sugar and caffeine."

"Did you really not sleep at all?"

He lifted a shoulder. "Not really. Can't get my brain to turn off."

"What meds?" I'd never seen him take any meds.

"I don't take them. I haven't in almost a year. They made it so I can't write. Can't think. Can't breathe. I'm just existing in a box like they want me to."

I frowned. "Can't they change them or something…?"

He shrugged. "I got tired of the meds dance. I can't write like that. I can't make art. I'm fine. I just don't sleep a lot."

"You sure?"

He nodded. "I am. I'm okay. If I'm not, I'll tell you."

I wanted to believe him, so I did. I wanted to ask, but I didn't. I still didn't feel like I had a right to pry like that, even after all we'd shared. "What…?" How did I even ask what I needed to ask?

"I'm manic. Maybe. I've been told a lot of things by a lot of different doctors. I don't feel like any of it is right. I feel like…" He exhaled and closed his eyes, bringing his mug to his lips. I thought he wasn't going to answer, but he did. "I had a shit time in high school. My parents put so much pressure on me and my siblings. We had to get perfect grades and get into the right college. Do everything by the books to follow them into law school. Be what their dream is, and I couldn't do it. I wasn't strong enough." He put a hand over his eyes like he was ashamed of himself. "I cracked. I fell apart, and I've been dealing with the consequences ever since." He tried to laugh it off, but it just came off as hollow.

I didn't say anything. What could I even fucking say? I put my cup down and wrapped my arms around him. He didn't fight or protest. He pressed his face into my neck. "We aren't letting this ruin our day. Fuck them. You never have to go to law school or back to college. If you're touring and doing what you want, they will either come around or they won't. I had to make the same choice with my grandparents, and they surprised me. They have been supportive. I think your parents love you and they will come around. They will see what you're doing. The music you make is special."

"Thank you," he muttered against my skin.

I bit back a groan, my chest so filled with him I knew I'd eventually burst.

How did I get through this and keep my friend when I was in love with him?

"Now, what are we doing? I'm not letting your ass off the hook even if you didn't sleep."

He laughed. "We have a whole fucking day once we get there. We need to figure out what's there."

"There's got to be a zoo and aquarium. Every city has one of those. Is there anything you feel like in particular?"

"Don't know." I feel like being alone with you. How close the words were to passing through my lips. My tongue ached to say them.

He lifted both brows, studying me. I would've killed to know what spun around in that head of his most days.

"What?" I finally relented, needing to know.

"What aren't you saying?" he said carefully.

"How'd you know?" I had to buy some time to make something up.

"You get this little quirk in your mouth, and it pulls your…" He cut himself off.

A pang hit me in the chest. "Say it. Please."

"I…" His brows pulled tight, and I wanted to leave. I hated that he didn't trust me enough to just spit out. "I don't want to draw attention to your scar. You've never said you hate it, but you obviously don't love it."

"That sounds like you notice it a lot." I resisted the urge to rub the indent across my cheek. I didn't even see it anymore. Like my eyes blocked it out when I looked in the mirror.

"I like it. I don't notice it a lot. It's part of you. I like how you smile. I guess I like your face. It wouldn't be you without it." He dropped his gaze to his coffee mug. "I'm sorry I brought it up."

"Look at me."

He didn't at first, but finally, he lifted his eyes. "I don't want to hurt you. I hate that my liking it hurts you."

I grabbed his hand and instantly realized what I'd done, but he didn't pull away. "You aren't hurting me. I love that you like me for me."

"Does it remind you of your dad?" He looked down at our joined hands. "I won't bring it up if it does."

"It used to, but maybe I can replace those memories with you."

A smile captured his face, lighting up my sky. My North Star. "I like that we are replacing the old with the new. We don't have to hold on to the sins of ghosts' past or tethers of lives we don't claim."

"You should write songs or something." I squeezed his hand and dropped it again before it got weird or something. "Now, where are we going?"

He pushed his fingers into his hair, tugging the messy strands. It made me want to put my hands into it. "Let's figure it out when we get there. You and I can get in a cab and go anywhere."

"You and I?" I repeated, unable to help myself.

"Why not? Someone else you want to bring?" Mischief played on his lips.

"No."

best night of my life

best friends

days off together

why is this better than you ever felt?