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One of our favorite movies to watch together. Both the Ledger and Phoenix versions. We connected with them in ways I felt only damaged people could.
I could handle it.
It might even be an olive branch.
Maybe I’d be able to stop playing like a damn moron because all the blood in my body wasn’t rushing to my dick.
I was wrong.
As he sang his new acoustic opening song, he stripped off the coat to reveal a green tie underneath but no shirt. He wore the signature purple slacks, and they were tight, hugging his ass like he’d been dipped in them, and as a final touch, he wore fishnet gloves because he couldn’t go a week without taking me back to that first night.
He lifted his eyes to the heavens and sang.
If death is better than this, put a bullet in my brain.
Erase the memories and pain.
Adorn this flesh in steel to find peace.
Since you replaced your god with a gun.
Get closer to Him with a mouthful of lead.
Isn’t that what they said?
Our mental health is to blame, but only when it’s a talking point on shame.
There’s no fix to drowning in this capitalist hell space.
He pulled the tie tight around his neck like a noose and lifted the end in his fist. A threat and a promise to hang me out to dry.
He used the tie all night, loosening and tightening it, playing it between his fingers. The images in my mind would make the devil blush. How easily I could lead him by the tie like a leash.
I groaned and stalked out onto the stage, crashing his little solo show. I played in with him. He nearly lost the note he was holding, wavering in it, but regaining control to make it sound like it was on purpose. He released the word. The notes of our guitars building into the chorus together.
Aspen searched my face, lips parted as he hummed with the melody.
What was I doing?
He broke the eye contact, walking to the end of the stage to jump down to the platform made for security. He shouldn’t be down there. But he pushed his guitar to hang behind him, letting me play while he leaned into the crowd and sang directly to the bodies smashed against the barrier.
The guys grabbed his belt to keep him from being pulled in, but that didn’t stop everyone within reach from grabbing him. Rage stirred in my chest. How easy it was for all of them to touch him, and I couldn’t bring myself to even accept I might want to.
I wasn’t sure who I was angrier with when our set finished, and I found Levi standing in the hall outside the dressing room, gushing over Aspen’s performance. I shoved past them, my shoulder hitting Aspen’s. He grunted, but I didn’t stop or apologize, heading for the shower.
I closed the door behind me and pressed both hands into the sink, holding back my temper but just barely.
“If you punch the mirror, you will not be able to play,” I repeated to myself over and over.
“What the fuck was that?” Aspen burst into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.
“What?” I barely forced out, not turning away from the mirror and gripping the counter so I didn’t confront him. This was the wrong moment. He had no idea how on edge I was.
“You still won’t look at me?” he screamed.
I lifted my gaze to his reflection. Regret flooded through me. Instantly I was hard, and it was painful. It turned with my anger, creating a dangerous mix.
“What the fuck is your problem?” Aspen made the mistake of getting closer, like he’d yell in my face.
