To discuss more meant opening Pandora's box, where an emotional tide could shift, a new argument erupt, and anything could leap out of their mouths. "If I had known coming would have pissed you off, I wouldn't have, because the last thing I wanna do, D, is make you go off... but that's a lie, because if I thought you were in trouble, even angry at me, I would still come to make sure you were all right--even if you didn't want me to. Figured--"
She kissed him gently to stop his words. "You didn't do anything wrong. I'm the one who's wrong." She leaned her forehead on the center of his chest, trying to find a way to explain something that had no easy explanation. "I was composing when all this went down. Something I really haven't been able to freely do in almost a year... and that takes a great deal of concentration, being alone, and just vibing to come up with something new. Then drama hit, and it was like everything went poof in a matter of seconds."
"Creative coitus interruptus," he said, chuckling. "Been there, and it'll make you evil as shit."
She tried to laugh, even though his statement made her cringe. "The song that was in my head was gone... I don't expect any of that to make any sense to you, but, trust me on it, when you're working and get interrupted like that, the frustration is beyond words."
That was as much, and the safest thing, she could tell him. She wanted to be honest with him, but there was a thin line between absolute truth and stupidity. Boy oh boy did she know that now. She cherished this man, her partner, her lover, but this part of her would probably always be a mystery to him. She could fully appreciate a black box, right through here.
His hands caressed her back and a soft kiss landed on the crown of her head. "I guess I've always been a little jealous of your time away from me to go hang out with your muse." He chuckled and deepened the kiss against her hair and fully embraced her. "It's like when you're with your muse, no one and nothing else in the world matters. But I can't deny you being with it; it's a part of you, and the music you create once you've gone off and communed with it is awesome."
She hugged him hard. His words carved at her conscience. If he only knew. "Baby," she whispered thickly. "I'm gonna leave my muse alone, okay? Maybe this whole music thing is a bad idea, long run--yeah, it paid the bills, and got us where we are now, but--"
"Are you crazy?" he said, pulling back and making her look at him. "D, from the time we met, you were singing. You would sit on my momma's sofa, scribbling in some old black-and-white-marble school notebook, coming up with the most kick-ass songs. Over the years I've watched you develop your work, seen it get deeper, more complex, sexier .. . just like you. And your performances are at the top of your game. If you stop singing, that would kill you--and if you did it because I was blowing your groove, that would kill me."
The pain in his intense brown eyes and the selfless compassion held within them made tears come to hers. There was nothing to do but love this man, hold him, and tell him without words how sorry she was for almost killing him by breaking his heart. He'd been possessed, she reminded herself of that. She knew a little of what that felt like now, too.
"No matter what happens, don't you ever forget how much I love you," she whispered thickly.
He kissed her slow and long and deep, and when he pulled away from her mouth, he crushed her against him. "I so wish that I could help you do what you do, but there isn't a musical bone in my body. I envy the other brothers in the house that can just sit down with you, pick up on a strand of your songs, add their own inspiration to it, and you all create a fusion that is so powerful... D, I can't even describe it. Sometimes you all are kickin' it so hard it brings sweat to my brow. So, you go on and do whatchu gotta do. I'll manage, will try to stay out of your hair while you're working, and will