What I was to him. “Why not?” I shrugged, grabbing my hoodie off the back of the chair. “It was all trash anyway. You’ve made that perfectly clear.”
“Chaz!” he cried as my hand rested on the doorknob. When I turned around, his jaw was set in anger. Other than irritation, that was the only emotion I could remember eliciting from him in years. Guess that was something. “If you walk out that door, you’re not coming back.”
I snorted a laugh, but I swallowed the biting retort trying to scrape its way out of my throat. I’d wondered what it would feel like to finally tell Dante how I felt. To just rip off the veil and demand that for once, he actually listened to me, but now that it had happened, I didn’t feel vindicated or spiteful, just...sad.
I think somewhere along the line, I became sadness. Some vaguely anthropomorphic personification of self-loathing. Was there any part of me that wasn’t stained with regret and isolation?
“You’re wrong,” I murmured. “About the song, I mean. It wasn’t just about Raf. It was about you, too.”
His expression went blank, but I wasn’t going to stick around until his stunned silence faded. I left the hospital room and made it outside without being dragged back in by men in white coats, so that was a plus.
“Chaz?” The sound of Rafael’s voice reminded me not to celebrate any victory prematurely, because there was always something left to be taken away. “What are you doing out of your room?”
I turned to face him right as he tossed a lit cigarette onto the pavement and stalked over to me.
“I thought you gave up smoking,” I mumbled.
“It’s been a long day,” he said, giving me a once-over. I must not have passed, because his brows knit in concern. “You shouldn’t be out here. You’re lucky to be alive.”
Now that was a laugh. I just knew better than to actually laugh, because I got the feeling I was already a hair’s breadth away from a nice white room as it was. “Gotta take advantage of that luck before it runs out,” I muttered, looking down at my phone, hoping for an update on the rideshare I’d called from the lobby.
“What happened?” he demanded, tilting my chin toward him like he’d done on so many occasions. He looked like a delinquent heartthrob from those old movies in his battered leather jacket with his hair slicked back over a face too beautiful to be fair, because the universe was cruel. He had the same intense, soulful gaze that always made me melt into his arms and forget whatever I was upset about, but not this time. Not anymore.
“I quit the band,” I answered, preempting the shock I could see on his face by adding, “Don’t worry. I’m sure Drake already has my replacement signing his contract.”
“Fuck Drake,” Raf seethed. The only concept we were likely to agree on in this conversation. “This is about us. You can’t fucking quit the band. You are the band.”
“No, that’s Dante,” I reminded him. “You can tell since his name’s the one screenprinted on all the gear. And you’re the one who’s indispensable to him. His muse, his best friend. Cash is his husband, and Drake’s the father he has a hell of a lot more in common with than he thinks. I’m nothing.”
“That’s not true. And even if it was, you’re more than that to me,” he insisted, his tone softening as he cupped my cheek in his hand. He was so warm, and I couldn’t resist the urge to lean into his touch one more time. “You’re everything.”
There it was. Dante’s tirade had hurt, but those sweet, gentle words were the ones that really cut in deep. My lips were pulling into a smile I had to indulge in exchange for keeping the tears out of my eyes. “We both know that’s not true.” Confusion turned his eyes a darker shade of brown, so I clarified. “I know you love me in your own way. I do. It was enough. It was more than enough for a long damn time.”
“What changed?” he asked hoarsely.
I chewed my bottom lip, trying to convince myself to just walk away. To save what little pride I had left, but I never had been able to refuse him.
“You like Greek mythology, right?” I asked. “Ever heard of a guy named Timagoras?”
He frowned. “No… What does this have to do with anything?”
“A lot,” I answered. “See, Timagoras was this