My mind lamented that Mary always knew too much as I slowly passed each stair in my descent to the basement. The records were still haphazardly piled around the floor, mingling with the amps and untouched instruments. The muted guitar snapped into focus as my eyes fell on Tim, wielding it with a cautious air. Somehow, he intently yielded his entire being to Billy without looking at him at all. I could feel why he was preserving his eyes from Billy. To look at Billy was to lose everything of yourself and my eyes willingly flickered to him.

Billy's hair blinded him from everything but the drum kit before him. His hands appeared to be barely holding the sticks but would occasionally tighten for an incredibly slicing hit, one that would rip through my chest like a bullet. But it was his elbows that captivated me the most. His entire torso would bounce up and down from the kicks, but his elbows glided with a level of precision; it was like he was a machine. It was unnatural with the jerk required from his shoulders to reach or the stiffness of his wrists. He had control of his body that I'd never understand.

His eyes suddenly pinned mine, forcing me to see the satisfaction my captivation supplied him. In a stalemate, we were locked there, neither willing to yield or bend until a final pop. Billy's hands pinched the cymbals to silence them.

"Go away, Tim." Billy didn't move his eyes from me as he spoke.

"Gladly," Tim shot.

I could hear the rustling of Tim ripping the guitar from his body and hurrying from the scene, but didn't dare look away from Billy.

"I'm not a fucking mechanic, Lil." His voice was strong and filled with his stage bravado.

"I can see that," I was surprised at the strength of my voice.

"Do you understand?" He absently gave a kick to the bass peddle, sending a boom through the basement.

"I get it. I know what you do. I always have." I struggled to keep my voice calm as my frustration grew.

"Do you? You focus on all the bulbs. Do you understand what I do, what I love?"

My muscles tensed in annoyance that he knew me too well. I did understand that creating, producing, and dissecting music was his life. The lights of the stage and flashbulbs of cameras were collateral damage.

"Nothing you love is perfect. I can't turn the lights off like I can't stop you from being the most frustratingly stubborn human being I've ever encountered." There was no tease in his voice. "Say something, Lil."

"You talk enough for both of us." My words came out of nowhere.

Billy bristled at my bullet. He threw the drumsticks to the ground with more force than necessary and stood in a violent jolt that knocked his stool over.

"Because you don't say anything. You don't do anything. You prolong and delay. Fuck, maybe I've written so much since I met you because I have to fill the fucking void." His voice thundered in a manner that should have elicited fear, but nothing rose in me. "Fucking say something," he demanded louder now.

"What do you want me to say?" I was out of my body; I had to of been. There's no way I could have held myself together otherwise.

"What's wrong with you?" He moved like a thrashing bull around the kit knocking over a cymbal as he went. "Seriously, I need to know what's wrong with you?"

"I don't know," I shrugged as though he had asked me what I wanted for dinner while inside I was going insane. My mind was screaming at me to say something but giving me no actual fodder to communicate.

Billy had moved closer; his muscles still bristled with frustration.

"I don't know what's wrong with me," I answered again, equally as loud and strong but still devoid of any actual substance.

Something this time made Billy pause and inspect; his eyes flowed over my face hungrily, looking for any clues to what was going through my mind.

"It's blank," I offered.

"What's blank?" His voice had lost the bravado.

"My mind; it's blank. I've got nothing." I swam deeper into the emptiness, looking for something to cling to, anything. "I don't know what to do with myself." Panic started to rise in my voice.

Billy was soft now; all of him was gentle. He tucked me beneath his chin and murmured something. I couldn't make out the words, but the low vibrations clung to me. I focused on the feeling, letting it blanket me.

"You're not a mechanic," from somewhere, a laugh escaped me.

Billy responded by slipping his forehead to mine.

"I think we have pretty well established that," I added with a sad smile.

"I shouldn't have yelled." It was his only apology.

"I shouldn't have tried to seduce you," I acknowledge too seriously for the ridiculousness of the statement.

"Can I ask you something?" As he spoke, he rolled his forehead back and forth across mine in a gentle manner.

I gave a slight nod, which I'm sure he felt more than saw.

"Where do you take your car? Like, is it all female mechanics?"

I let out a breath I hadn't realized I had been holding in.

"What am I supposed to do with you?" He sighed as his chin returned to its spot on top of my head. 

"I'm the worst," I agreed. 

"Lil," Billy met my gaze again. "I'd do just about anything for you, but I can't change who I am. I'm not a mechanic. I'm not quiet. I envy you. I envy that you can be calm. It soothes me, but..." He paused, carefully choosing his words. 

"But?" I prodded. 

"Don't you get tired of playing it safe? All these amazing things happen every day; people inventing the next big thing, or discovering some great cure, or..."

"Writing the next song that touches millions," I continued for him. 

"Don't you want to be a part of that? Don't you want to find your thing?"

"Of course, that's why I can't just follow you," I argued. 

"You think passion is going to come from you reading about the things others are doing? You think passion comes from a classroom?" 

"You think it comes from endless travel? You think me not knowing the day of the week or city I'm in will suddenly yield my passion?" 

Billy paused and looked me over again before letting out a long sigh. "I don't know, Lil. I know it won't if you hide in the hotel the whole time." 

"I'm not hiding," I protested. 

"Really? You're not? It sure feels like hiding." 

"I'm not you, Billy. Just because your world doesn't light me up doesn't mean my path is wrong."

"You haven't even given it a chance." Billy's frustration veiled his words as a growl. 

"Billy, you want more than this endless cycle."

"I want more than this? What about you? Don't you want more than this?"

It clicked then; I didn't. I didn't want more than the stolen moments. I'd never intended on a life with Billy Collins. I had thought of my future; the quiet cottage with a porch where I could sit with my love and watch the sunset over a billowy field. But Billy wasn't next to me; that man was still faceless. I'd thought of Billy's future, too, taking over the world one note at a time. But I was never willing to hear the songs. I couldn't have a future with him if I was unwilling to listen to what he was saying, and Billy spoke loudest through his music.

"I haven't planned for you," the strength had drained from my tone as I knew the statement would crush him.

"At all? You've never even mildly thought of our future?"

"I mean, I've thought of you and us, but when I think of my future..." it was terrible. Guilt coursed through me like acid, burning and rusting everything in its wake.

"Fuck," Billy slumped to the couch as his head fell to his hands and he yanked his fingers through his hair. "I wish you were still trying to seduce me in my fucking coveralls." He mumbled to himself. With a heavy sigh, he sat back. "Why? After all, we've been through, why didn't you stop and think about a future with me?" The volume of his words increased, pulling 'with me' further to me.

"I'm broken. I have to be. How fucked up am I?" The static of all the questions I should have been asking myself flooded my mind. "I'm graduating in a year, and all I've thought about is a job in Portland. I never once thought of Deluth or you. I'm a fucking selfish, self-absorbed, self-centered... I'm all the fucking selves; every single one."

Billy didn't protest; he just slumped deeper into the couch. Every piece of him looked tired, broken, and depleted.

"I'm the worst human ever," the room spun around me, and I felt the carpeting scuff against my knees. It was the only reason I even noticed that I had fallen to them.

"No, you just aren't in love with me." Billy's eyes were empty, glazed over with oblivion. "You're not in love with me." The second time was for him.

"That's not true." Panic was rising in me like an incoming tide. "I love you more than anything."

"But you aren't in love with me. You can't be. You won't even listen to my songs." His head started to shake back and forth. "You love me. I know that. And I think you're attracted to me. But you aren't in love with me."

"No, that's not true," I protested again.

"Of course, it is. It's exactly what you're saying, what you've always been saying. You can't be in love with me. I don't know how I even could have thought you were. It's obvious."

"No, it's not obvious; I'm in love with you." I had to be. I was always thinking of him, of his happiness, his health. I was in love with him.

Billy's eyes were full again, full of determination and answers. "Lil, you can't be in love with me."

I hated his evident tone and confidence. It was spilling over to make me hate him. He could see it growing in my eyes.

"Lil, I'm in love with you. Why do you think I keep prying every detail of your life from you? I want to know everything. Fuck, every decision I've made for over a year has always included you. I plan gigs around your school schedule so I can be sure to be in the states to see you. You make your way into nearly everything I write, even though I know you'll never listen. You're at the center of everything. And you haven't even thought of me. You haven't even been listening to me."

"I hear your words, and I have thought of you. I think about you all the time." I protested. I didn't need to hear his music to know him.

"But you don't plan for me, for us. You even said it; it never dawned on you to consider Deluth until right now."

"My life is in Portland, my family, my friends. Have you ever thought of moving to Portland?" The moment the question left my mouth, I regretted it; I knew the answer.

He pulled his wallet from his back pocket and plucked out a business card. He let it slip from his fingers, useless to him now. I didn't have to pick it up, I knew what it was, but I looked at it for him. He deserved the satisfaction. I stunk to the floor where the card had fallen and lifted it to confirm a realtor card from Portland, Maine.

"Billy, I love you."

"I know, but you aren't in love with me, Lil. That's what has always been wrong with us. It's not my job; it's not your school. You aren't in love with me. If you were," he mournfully shook his head, " we wouldn't have any problems."

His words hung in the air. I wanted to protest. I was so sure he was wrong, but it all fit. All the back and forth, the countless mental lists I had made of why it wouldn't work. It all fit together in a tidy package of answers.

"Come on," he said in a smooth voice, "we have a house to look at." He heaved himself up and extended a hand to me.

"You still want me to go?" There was a sad flair of hope in my voice.

"Of course, Lil. Like you've always wanted, we're friends." He grasped at my hand and pulled me up from the floor as the bile from his vile statement filled me. I'd never hated the word friends more than at that moment.

Once I stood, Billy didn't drop my hand as I expected, as I deserved. He clutched it, not even letting it slip away as he switched from his right to left hand to open the door when we reached the top of the stairs. It was deliberate in its meaning. He'd fight for our friendship, but still, it felt like we'd already lost. I wanted him to drop my hand so I could be alone and mourn. I fought the urge and mustered a semi-placid face as we entered the kitchen.

"We gotta go meet the realtor. We'll be back in a couple of hours." Billy's voice was empty and directed at no one in particular.

Billy's flat, emotionless voice caused Mary to instantly snap her eyes to him and deeply inspect her precious son. It sent another pulse of pain and guilt through me. My step faltered at the distraction, but Billy tightly squeezed my hand to bring me back. The slightest twitch to remind me to be careful was enough to pull a pool to my eyes.