Page 8 of All That Remains
"I guess I oughtta be. It was my idea.”
At that, he lifted his brows and pursed his lips. I averted my eyes, knowing where things were headed.
"But, uh, weren't you always the one givin’ me shit about leavin'? Or wantin' to leave, anyway?" I could only nod. The mild annoyance in his voice cut deep. "But now it was your idea?"
"You pissed at me already?"
"To be honest? No. Not at all, ba—"
He’d nearly called mebabe,but caught himself. A lump formed in my throat, seeing him struggle with the word. I nodded again in a show of concession. He was exactly right. Regarding the band stuff, Iwasa hypocrite.
He flicked something off his knee. My attention was rigidly fixed to every move he made, still in awe that the exchange was even real. I missed the stupidest things about him, like the bony wrists and jutting knees. He was a few inches taller than me, a fact I envied. I missed his earlobes. His exquisite side profile. The steely blue of his gaze. The dark, judgy eyebrows andpretty fingers. His knuckles were scarred like he'd been sparring. He licked his lips and a ghastly longing raked through me. I remembered what it tasted like. Lazy, searching kisses. That very particularflavour.
"Yeah, well..." he began, as if to say:‘Shit happens.’
"You been alright?" I wondered.
"All good, man."
"Allgood,man," I mimicked his accent and he chuckled.
"So, uh...what’ve you gotten up to lately? You’ve been quiet online."
"Just laying low for a while. Trying to figure out my next move. Haven’t been up to nearly as much as you, mate. Congrats, by the way. You fucking smashed it!Massivetune, Rome."
He paused, eyeing me for an uncertain second.
"Yeah, uh...thanks, bro."
Though he’d never stopped calling mebro,now it would no longer be tempered by the occasionalbabe. I couldn't believe we were back to such distancing formalities and egg-shelling every nuance of conversation. It was depressing. He’d once called me unspeakable things. Always breathlessly, always as he held me in a misty delirium.
"Number one in how many countries now? Eighty?" I balked. “Mate,goodshit. It’s mental.”
“Thanks, bro.”
"Remember how worried you used to be?"
He eyed me in that uncertain way again. Like he was seeing me for the first time—or was disquieted I still knew him so well. Like he worried I held all the leverage.
“It’s only natural…to worry about this stuff. The markets are only so predictable.”
“Yeah…”
It was astonishing, how easily I could fall into his gaze. I wondered if I looked ok. I wanted to check my hair, my breath. I licked my lips to moisten them, grappling with the same nervous energy I experienced when we first met. Colliding in the dorm, mouth full of toothpaste.
"For what it’s worth…I never held any of it against you, Rome. I’m out of my mind proud of you.”
"Yeah, ditto…” he said, staring ahead. "How's the fam?"
"Great. Yours?”
"They’re alright. Mum, she asks about you from time to time." My heart skipped a beat, until he added: "And the other boys."
"Send her my love, alright?"
"Same."
"How's your Dad?"
