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“I will. As soon as it makes sense in my head. For now, though, can you just trust me when I say I’m getting better?”
“Okay, but I’m watching, Gray. I won’t let you spiral again. I’ve got you, bro.”
I swallowed down the lump that had appeared in my throat and slapped him playfully on the back to prove to him I was okay. He walked off to find Addi, and I pulled open the balcony door, stepping outside. Closing them again behind me, I let the silence of the night wrap itself around me like a comfort blanket.
I thought back to the last six months. I didn’t know when it started. The sense of being out of control. Of being tarnished. Damaged goods. An impostor in my own life. I started showering to rinse off those feelings. Then that became an obsession, my fear and worry compelling me again and again. Showers started happening multiple times a day as a way to seek that feeling of control. The water got hotter, my time under it longer until I was spending hours a day trying to wash away… what…? My sins, my insecurity, my fear of not being enough?
It was Frankie who noticed the blisters on my skin and my cracked hands that made playing my guitar impossible. That girl didn’t miss a trick. She didn’t say a thing to me but phoned Mum, who turned up at a hotel in Spain while we were on tour. She asked me about them, and I fell apart.
I tried to explain, but nothing made sense. I mean, look at my life—in a rock band, loaded, women throwing themselves at me. What did I have to be scared about? But Mum understood, even though I didn’t understand myself. She found me a specialist who I saw once a week. Talking to her made things make sense. Things that I just thought were part of my personality were actually because of my OCD. My need to have each hotel room I stay in laid out in a certain way, my compulsion to overthink everything, planning out every possible scenario in my head, my insomnia, the constant exhaustion, and showering so much, punishing myself and my body.
Talking helped, as did the medication she had me taking, plus she’d given me coping mechanisms, like keeping a journal about my thoughts that we talked through each week and breathing exercises, which forced me to make time to just be, instead of filling every moment of my life with something.
The therapist thought it all started with the explosion of the band; fear of it being taken away, worry I wasn’t good enough, that someone would see into my soul and deem me not worthy. I thought it was something else. Not knowing who I was, or where I fit into the world. Being a twin was amazing, but I was always part of him—Maverick. I mean, people even called usthe twins,lumping us together rather than letting us be our own people.I’d never had a moment that was just mine and I didn’t know how to work out where he and the band ended, and I began.
I'd been truthful with Mav, things had gotten better but now, with everything in the papers about me and Gabe, I was terrified that I was on the edge of falling back into my OCD again as a way of coping with the entire world judging my relationships and sexuality.
Pushing my fingers through my hair, I sighed, feeling that familiar unease in my chest and the itch under my skin. I ran my hand over my shoulder across my tattoo, reminding myself that I didn’t have to stay trapped in my feelings. That underneath it all, I was a Cosmic God, no matter what the voice in my head told me.
“Pull yourself together, Gray,” I whispered to myself. “Just breathe.”
A shuffling sound to the side of the balcony made me jump. It was so dark out here that I hadn’t even thought there might be someone else outside as well.
“Grayson?”
Ivy
IcameoutsidewhenI heard them arguing, not wanting to make them feel uncomfortable in their own space. The balcony was stunning. Huge, surrounded by glass panels, so you could look out on the world without being able to fall over the side. A hot tub, a bar, and outdoor seating filled the space.
I’d listened as the shouting got louder before an ominous silence descended. I’d meant to move back inside and get ready for tonight’s gig, but there was something soothing about being up somewhere so high, away from the world, that kept me rooted out here.
The door opened, and someone stepped outside. While they couldn’t see me sitting alone in the darkness, I could see him.Grayson.
I watched from my seat, noticing the way he dragged his fingers through his hair. He sighed, pacing in small circles, mumbling to himself. I felt like a voyeur, so I whispered his name, not wanting to scare him.
He stared over before the realization dawned on him.
“Ivy?”
“Sorry, I heard you all arguing. I didn’t know where to go, so I came out here. It was so peaceful I didn’t want to come back inside. I didn’t mean to get in your way. I’ll leave you to it. Sorry again.”
I stood, but suddenly he was next to me, wrapping his hand around my wrist. “Can you stay for a while? Talk to me, Ivy. Tell me about you. I could use a distraction for a while.”
Even in this low light, I could see the tension in his jaw and the rigid way he held himself as if he was trying to avoid scratching an itch that was tearing him apart.
“Of course. I always have time for you, Grayson.” He gestured to the seats I’d just moved from that looked out over the city skyline. We sat, and I twisted to look at him, while he stared out at the view.
“No one really calls me that,” he murmured.
“What? Your name?”
“Grayson. Most people call me Gray.”
“Sorry, would you prefer me to call you that?”
“No, I like the sound of it on your lips.” He turned his body to mirror mine, placing his hands flat on his thighs, as if he was worried he was going to touch something he shouldn’t.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
