Even in an argument, Billy articulated himself. It was frustrating. As emotions and bits of nonsensical thoughts swirled in my head, I plopped down on the loveseat. The deep breath I sucked in did little to settle the churning of my mind. I dropped my face to my hands as the tears spilled over. Billy quietly entered. I didn't realize he was back until the loveseat sagged and his hand fell to the small of my back.

"I'm sorry for my tone." Billy smoothed his voice in a low, solemn manner.

A laugh spilled from my lips. "Your tone?"

"Well, if I just said sorry, you wouldn't know why, and I'm not sorry for what I said." He was much calmer now and smelled of a freshly seared cigarette filter.

"That was fast," I noted.

"I only needed one before the anxiety of our unfinished discussion pulled me back."

"It was an argument, Billy, not an unfinished discussion."

"Well, I'd like to finish it as a discussion."

I finally lifted my face to meet his gaze. His eyes lingered on the tracks of my tears before he raised his hands and wiped them away with his thick, rough thumbs.

"I've made you cry twice today. Maybe I'm not as much of a gentleman as we both thought."

"You didn't make me cry, Billy. I made me cry."

He sighed at my assertion. "How can I help?"

"You love me?" That was the point; he loved me.

"I do; I very much love you." He brushed my hair from my face as though admitting love wasn't some life-altering moment.

"You offer that so freely. Are there others?" I needed to know. He made me feel like I was the only person in the world when he focused on me, but was that his trick? I expected to see his muscles tense at my baiting words.

"That I love? Of course, my family, my friends, even Tim." The jocular tone left a hint of a smile on the corner of his lips. "But I don't believe that's what you're asking. To clarify, I'm in love with you and only you."

"Why?" I pressed.

He let out a laugh. "Why does anyone fall in love? I didn't choose, and honestly, I thought little of it at first. You'd pop in thoughts here and there after we met. A particular story from your past or comment you made on my memories or opinions. It was an interest. But then you answered my calls and listened to my rambles. I always felt so selfish in those moments, but I needed them."

"Why did you need them; why do you need them?"

He let out a heavy sigh as he steeled himself for the upcoming admission. "If you think of what startled you today, what made you run, I think you'd know. Would you prefer I state it for clarity?"

My mind returned to soundcheck, the orbit of people around him. I'd seen it as an outsider; when Billy shifted, everyone shifted. I closed my eyes and watched the orchestrated dance again. When Billy moved, the world adjusted to maintain the same distance. If he neared, people pulled away, all while looking to him as the answer man. Billy was alone; if he tried to move close, there was a recoil to accent his loneliness.

Still, I needed the concrete. "Yes, I'd like to hear it in your words."

He let out another loaded sigh. "You care for me, who I am as a person. I can see that, and, when we talk on the phone, I can hear it."

"I do care for you," I agreed, feeling as though we were getting off track.

"This is a choice I made. I pursued music. This isn't something that just happened. I've been playing, writing, and performing for years. Being a working musician, paying my bills with music I create has always been the goal." His eyes fixed on mine. "So I chose this. And, even though I had not thought of all the ramifications, I accept all that comes with it. But it's different than I expected."

I moved closer to him as though I might physically battle the pain he was about to reveal. My legs pressed against his, but I wasn't close enough to protect him. I swung my legs over his lap, and he let his hands lay to rest on them in silent acknowledgment.

"It's lonely. Most people don't see where the show stops, and I begin. I'm always slightly separate from everyone. The band has a name, but mine is the name everyone knows. I can feel the tension from the other guys, and I don't blame them, but they also feed into it. They look at me and wait for me to direct them. It's isolating. It gets to where, when I hear my name, I want to disappear. I never wanted fame, Lil. I get what you are trying to avoid. Part of me fears it too. But these things, melodies and words, get stuck in my head. I have to get them out."

"And I help?" I needed to relieve the mounting anxiety building as the emotions of the soundcheck whirled within me again.

"Always, as disruptive as it is to us, you disliking everything about my chosen profession is endearing. I'm not an authority, and you get that. I'm not even interesting. I'm just a guy trying to figure it out. You don't treat me..." His voice trailed off as he searched for the word.

"Well," I winced.

He let out a laugh. "You have a terrible impression of yourself. When did that happen?" He wrapped an arm around my shoulders.

"You make me feel like a terrible person," I dropped my eyes from him.

"What?" He lifted my chin with a gentle finger.

"You're so sweet and reasonable all the time. You seem so in control, and I feel so out of control, especially around you."

"Lil..." His eyes looked crushed.

"No," I stopped him. "That's it. I did it again. You don't make me feel terrible; I make me feel terrible. I make myself feel out of control." My hands sunk to my lap as bits of thoughts screamed behind my eyes.

"Lil, talk to me. Whatever is going on, talk to me. I don't need you to protect me." He tried to smooth his tone, but there was an urgency edging in it.

"I need to have my own life. I can't get rolled into the surrounding orbit. It's vital to me that I be separate. But how can we be separate and together at the same time?"

He surveyed me and then pulled me deeper into his lap. "I'm trying to figure that out, too. I don't have any answers for you. But I can listen and offer what I can. I know I'm not perfect, Lil. I know that my goals make you want to run away, but I like being with you. Life outside of you is..."

"You're reality and it's only going to get louder and brighter. I'm not built for that. I get anxious if someone stands too close to me in a line. I'm not a rock star's girlfriend." I let out a laugh and dipped my head to his chest.

He rested his chin on the crown of my head. "I'm not a rock star, and I'm not perfect."

"You're pretty perfect," I murmured before letting out a sigh. "Graduate; that's my first goal."

"Great, what do you need to do that?" Problem-solving ignited Billy again. 

"I need to focus on my classes when they're in session. I need to pay for my books and rent."

"You need time for you," he pragmatically added.

I pulled my head away and looked at him.

"I can be a lot; you said it. You need time to be just you with your friends and your life," he shrugged.

He got it more than I did; I'd have been annoyed if I wasn't so relieved.

"So, the time balance thing is on you. It'd help if you talked to me. If I'm infringing too much, please tell me. That means you stop late-night calls before any early classes." He looked into my eyes with almost a scolding manner.

I nodded, though I knew I'd always take his calls. I resigned to tell him of important dates; he would note them in his brain like he always did. 

"How do you pay for books and rent? Your work at the grocery store?"

"Yeah, since we split the rent three ways, it's not too bad. So, if I work about twenty hours a week, I can cover everything. I'm lucky because they let me keep my Sunday shifts in the school year, and they're time and a half."

"And you wouldn't accept anything from me?" He was already wincing in anticipation of my answer.

"Absolutely not. I earn my keep," I spoke in the defiant tone Billy had expected.

"Noted." He kissed my temple softly before returning his chin to the crown of my head.

"And I usually save up some during the summer, so I have a cushion in case something comes up," I absently added.

"So, work this summer." He evenly spoke. "Is that why?"

I wanted to say yes; it'd be easy. "No," I admitted.

"I feel like we should listen to Jump Around or some other 90s bullshit."

I felt the rumble of a laugh in his chest. It let me breathe out the tension that was rolling through me.

I slid from his lap and onto the coffee table in front of him. Our knees abutted each other uncomfortably, but neither of us shifted for more space. My hands dropped to our laps as he did the same. Instinctively, they wrapped around each other.

Echos of Chris' parting words pounded to the front of my brain. "I want to be quiet." It was the painful truth I had been keeping from him.

"Quiet?" Billy echoed.

"Yeah, I know it's weird, but I want a quiet life. I want a cute little cottage with a front porch to watch the sunset from rocking chairs. I want to fall asleep and wake up in the same place. I want..."

"A quiet life, and I, by definition of my chosen path, am loud." The somber acknowledgment soaked through both of us. After a long pause, Billy offered what he could. "If I came home to you?"

"Maybe, but," I sighed at the next nail. "You're amazing. Tonight was just a reminder that you're not a dive bar musician. You can pretend that you are not a rock star, but I see you, Billy. I see your talent. You play with reverence to that past and a push to the future. You won't be small; there won't be any quiet for you."

Billy untangled his hands and pulled on his hair. "You don't know that. You can't decide on what might happen."

"And if I stay for now and fall deeper in love with you."

"You love me," his voice came childlike.

I let out a laugh. "You have a terrible impression of yourself."

He dipped his eyes.

"I'm in love with you, Billy. I think I've been in love with you since the tower you built in the malt shop."

"Red is my favorite color. You like yellow because of its swing." He was mournfully speaking to himself. "It's like a song. You're like a song." He let his hands twist with mine again. "Why do you keep answering my calls?"

"Because I love you; I'm in love with you."

"I want this, Lil. I want to be a musician. Getting paid to do something that I love, I'd be ridiculous to walk away."

"I wouldn't let you walk away, not for me."

"But I want a quiet life with you. I want to sit beside you on the front porch and watch the sunset. I want normal."

"You can't have both." His talent was his burden. It was a cruel joke to be given the genius he had, but not the skills to prepare him for the life it would thrust upon him. 

"Let me try. We don't know what the future holds. I could crash and burn. In a couple of years, I might be fixing cars again."

"Or you could be playing stadiums and having your every move detailed for public consumption."

He sat back. "I think it's your silver lining attitude that I love the most," there was no joke in his voice. "Stay with me for a moment." There was a new vigor to him as he plucked up my hands again. "You love me."

"I do."

"And I love you. And tonight wasn't terrible."

"Aside from the panic attack, two fits of tears, and a shouting match that your entire band probably heard, no, it wasn't terrible."

"There's my silver lining girl." He twitched my nose with his finger. "Neither of us has a crystal ball. We love each other now and want to be together."

"Agreed."

"I'm going to ask you again. Come with me, even if it's only for a week. I know you have to work to get your cushion, but just a week, maybe two."

"Maybe three or four," I teased.

"Commitment of one week with an option to extend."

"Can I sleep on it?" I asked, but as the words left my lips, I saw his hope deflate.

"Of course. It's late," Billy shifted.

"You'll stay with me still."

"Of course, Lil. I'll stay with you as long as you'll have me."

We sunk into the bed in each other's arms exactly where we had started: Billy wanted me to join him, and I feared by how much I wanted to join him. My mind replayed the whole night until the screeched to a halt on one thing Billy had said. 'I need you.' He didn't say he wanted me; it was a cry for help. 

"Billy," I whispered, knowing he was still awake. 

"Mmhmm," he murmured. 

"You asked for my help. I'm sorry I didn't hear you." I admitted. 

The sheets shifted as he lifted a hand to his head and tugged on his hair. 

"I'm listening now," I added. 

"I'm scared." The darkness between us made the conversation feel easier. "I'm petrified that I will fail, but..." He paused again. 

I felt his body twist as his hand attacked his hair again. I lifted my hand to his forearm and followed it to his hand, pulling it from the tangle of his erratic hair. 

"What if I don't fail? What if..." His words were labored at the admission. "What if strangers keep taking pieces of me until there is nothing left for..."

"For what?" I gently prodded. 

"For you, Lil. What if I lose so much that I lose you, my family, Tim? What if it takes it all away from me?"

"It won't, Billy."

"How can you be so confident?" He let out a tense laugh. 

"Because you can't lose me, Billy," I soothed. 

"Then why does it feel like I already have?" 

It ripped through me and stole any remaining words. All I could do was cling to him in the darkness.