About three weeks into Brendon's LA summer break, I find out there's a running bet for how long it'll be until we announce we've moved into the next stage in our relationship.
Part of me wants to crawl into a ball and hide from all of them when I find out, but I realize it's a likely conclusion on their part and I don't entirely blame them for it. Even if I hate it. Especially since, according to Everleigh, I'm not someone to bet against, and I think that applies to me falling head over heels like the toad I am (the non-Mario Kart variety).
Most of my nights are spent over at his house, though, admittedly, aside from that first night, we spend most of them apart. Either we both fall asleep on the couch—separately—while adding another movie to my Letterboxd 'watched' list or I wake up to find him carrying me upstairs. The latter involves me scolding him because he should not be lifting my weight up any set of stairs, and he'll just laugh when he drops me onto the bed.
Brendon comes back one day from a farmer's market run to find me lying upside down on the couch in the living room. I haven't changed out of my pajamas and it's already noon. He doesn't even flinch at the cheese sauce stain on my pants from the nachos we made for a midnight snack last night.
"You alright there?" he asks.
I hold a thumbs up above me. "Yup."
Brendon quickly puts the groceries away before walking over. I feel his hips lean against the couch where my feet are propped up. "Is this what it looks like to see a songwriter in action?"
"Lauren used to write books in high school. This applies to those nerds too."
"Good to know." A pause. "What's that?"
I lift my head to get a better look at him, but his eyes are gesturing toward my tote bag haphazardly dumped on the end of the couch. "My...bag?"
"The book," he corrects as he walks around. Brendon picks it up, flipping through the pages. "You're learning American Sign Language?"
I'd forgotten the book was still in my bag. "Oh, yeah. I forgot about that."
"Does Maverick know?" He slides in back inside the bag.
"No," I answer while pulling myself up. As much as Brendon doesn't have any bad angle, I prefer not looking at him upside down. "Thought I'd surprise him once I learned a fair amount."
Even though I've only known Maverick for a few years, I can honestly say he's my closest friend in the industry, not including my own band members, and someone I imagine to be around for the rest of it. Growing old is a little less terrifying knowing I have someone like him by my side.
But he's been losing his hearing for some time now and will likely lose all of it at some point, hence why he's been learning ASL himself already. I try not to get sad thinking about it because Maverick isn't someone that needs to be babied or treated like a glass vase with a fragile sticker slapped over him. He's had time to process what it will mean when it does happen, and even though it still isn't the same as actually living through it, I know the best I can do is be there for him.
From elementary school straight through the end of high school, I was a certified band geek, on top of being what I considered one of the slightly less unhinged theater kids (sorry, classmates). My way of thinking is molded by classical music and playing instruments.
By the age of forty-four, Beethoven went almost completely deaf. And it didn't stop him. Not even during the decline, where I imagine I would have the most difficulty processing the change if it was to happen to me. Even as he was losing his hearing, he adapted the way he wrote music, using lower notes that were easier to hear, and holding a pencil between his teeth and touching it against the soundboard of the instrument so he could sense the vibrations of each note. He kept performing, persisting through the challenges, and even smashing his piano keys when he couldn't hear the notes because music was not something so easily taken away from the great maestro.
Maverick will continue to impress the world with his music even long after he loses his hearing, I'm sure of it. Because if Beethoven can create masterpieces, then, dammit, so can Kingston John fucking Maverick.
In the meantime, I do my part to show my friend I care about him.
And—
"Is this just because you love him or because you want to spy on his conversations with Everleigh?"
I gasp. "I would never do such a thing—"
"So, that's a yes, then." It's a statement, not a question he's asking. "Either way, he'll appreciate it."
"Honestly the bare minimum I can do." I lean back against the cushions. "Seira told me she wants to learn it too, but I told her to give me a head start since it takes her like two days to learn a new language."
"Can you show me something?" he asks.
Taking a second to remember, I sign the first thing I want to show Maverick when I drop it on him.
Starting by spelling it out, I sign Everleigh's name, which Brendon picks up on since it's a little more straightforward. Then, using my dominant hand, I place it against my chest and push my middle finger and thumb together, pulling away like I'm tugging on a string. Press my hand flat against my chest and tap twice. Hold my non-dominant arm out and wave my other hand back and forth over it like I'm conducting an orchestra. Hold my right hand over my mouth, curved and with the thumb sticking up, swiping it up in a diagonal line before closing my fingers to form a thumbs-up sign.
"I think," I mutter without much confidence after I'm done.
"Are you gonna tell him his girlfriend likes your music better than his?"
My eyes bug out. "Have you known ASL this entire time?"
"No, I just understand context clues." Brendon shakes his head with a laugh. "Sounds about right."
"Look, just because he's losing his hearing, doesn't mean I'll let him forget Everleigh is MARS' number one fan."
Brendon clears his throat.
"Number two?"
"We'll have joint custody of the title."
"Might have to take her to court for it."
Judging by the look in his eyes, I wouldn't count him out on winning that case. Sorry, Everleigh. I'm not about to argue against those eyes.
"Do you want something for breakfast or should we just grab something on our way there?" Brendon asks. When my expression remains blank, he adds, "Movie? With the group?"
I slap my forehead. Right. A special viewing my friend Zoe invited all of us to for her new movie, The Summer I Died. "I clearly suck because I completely forgot."
"It's okay." Brendon slaps my leg. "Get dressed and I'll make something small."
"Not too much," I warn. "I'll be eating my weight in popcorn later."
Luckily for me, the showing is nothing fancy that requires much thought. After rifling through some of the clothes I've tossed into the guest room dresser so I don't have to walk back home whenever I need to get ready to leave the house, I find something simple but put together for the day and brush my teeth and hair soon after, resembling a human being once again. I try not to stress about how much I enjoy the smell of Brendon's house and how normal it feels now even just after three weeks, as well as how it's not long before we'll both be back on the road again. Hanging out in each other's hotel rooms whenever we find ourselves in the same city isn't quite the same as being home together, even if the definition of home is starting to take on new meaning.
I enter the kitchen after I'm ready to find Brendon sliding a poached egg onto a slice of toast. As I slide around the corner of the kitchen island, he moves to the side and holds the toast up to my mouth. Managing to not spit the entire thing on the ground when I have to laugh is an impressive feat.
"How am I supposed to survive without your homecooked meals when you're back out there?" I mumble through my bite of food.
Brendon tucks the carton of eggs back into the refrigerator. "Bribe Marty."
"Solid suggestion."
I make quick work of eating my breakfast-at-noon without spilling any egg yolk on the floor, even when Brendon leans over my shoulder to take his own bite, which is fair considering he's the one that cooked it.
When we're done, Brendon and I walk back over to my house. A text comes in just as I swing open the front door and I manage to catch a glimpse of a message from Rami telling me to hold off for now, and that he'll let me know when they're ready.
The text arrives too late. And when I hear yelling from the kitchen, I sense the warning alarm going off in my head.
Brendon and I share a look, stuck in a moment in time against a rocky current.
"What are you so scared about?"
"Who–who said I'm scared? I'm just figuring things out and getting over my last failed relationship. Stop trying to make this something it's not."
"Something it's not?" Jun scoffs from, it sounds like, the kitchen. "I told you I'll give you space. All the space and time you need, and you said okay. You went out of your way to say okay because this was what was best for both of us. So that doesn't mean kiss me whenever you feel like it and then toss me aside like I'm some object for you to use to get over Maver. I'm not a rebound, Lauren. Either you're ready or not, but we need to be very clear about that."
"That's not what you are at all—"
"Sure feels like it. We don't need to go there at all, Lauren, if that's not what you want. I love you too much to force you to do anything you're not ready for. I've told you that time and time again but I can't give you the space you need if you keep doing this to me. You know my weakness for you and take advantage of it and it isn't fucking fair. Do you realize how much it hurts?"
"I'm just...I don't know. I'm trying, okay?"
"Trying isn't hard enough. If you can only be friends right now then that's fine, but let me just be a friend."
Even though their voices are muffled, I can tell who's arguing and about what, to some extent. Honestly, this has been a long time coming, even though I'd been holding on to hope that it wouldn't. Wishful thinking on my part, I suppose. As much sense as we might think we're talking into ourselves, matters of the heart rarely go according to plan. I just wish this wasn't one of those situations I was right about. I would have happily taken a see, Stevie, you were just overreacting as always.
Brendon senses what's coming before I react to any of this. His hand circles around my wrist gently, tugging me closer to his side as he casts a warning glance down at me.
"Don't," he warns.
But I don't listen because doing the rational thing like letting these two adults work it out on their own would be too easy. It's the same heart-led logic that led me to confront Maverick in New York even though that mess had nothing to do with me, and not even getting scorned in the process is enough to make me second guess marching through the house until I find them standing at odds inside the kitchen. Rami had the sense to hide out by the stairs up until he sees me, but as soon as he does, he trails behind, ready to clean up whatever wreckage we leave behind. Probably notable that he's tracking my movements, not theirs, but it doesn't stop me.
"What's going on?" I ask.
"Stevie—" Rami cautions.
I hold up a hand.
"Stevie," Lauren echoes with an anguished sigh. "Just leave it be, please."
"No, I knew this was going to happen." I cross my arms, standing next to Jun's side like a bodyguard. "We talked about this Lauren."
Clinging to the waves of frustration already rolling through her, Lauren lets the current carry her away.
"Respectfully, Stevie, this has nothing to do with you."
She's right and I should turn away—I know that's what Brendon is mentally begging me to do—but as soon as I take one look at Jun's crestfallen face, avoiding my eyes and not once leaving Lauren's because he looks at her like she's the only star in the sky on the darkest of nights, I feel my resolve break along with his.
"Maybe it doesn't," I concede, "but you're mistaken if you think I'm going to just watch my best friend be dragged around like this because you can't make up your mind on what you want."
"We're all your best friends," Lauren scoffs.
"It's not—" It's not the same.
This is Jun. The one I called when I found out my dad died, and the one that ran to my house, barefoot at three in the morning, to hold me while I cried myself to sleep, and again for the entire year after. The one who I'd first told when I realized I was bisexual and reminded me it was going to be alright, that I would be supported and loved and cared for no matter how scary the world could be. The Jun who used his first paycheck ever to buy me a guitar for my birthday, and the same Jun I would move heaven and Earth to make sure he is supported and loved and cared for as he always does for me.
"No, 'cause I don't need this judgment from you of all people." Lauren rolls her eyes.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
She gawks back with a blank stare before pointing behind me. "It's just rich you're the one standing here right now when your weak spot is standing not more than five feet away from you."
Embarrassment floods every one of my senses and stains my cheeks red. "Leave him out of this."
"Oh no," Lauren stalks toward me. "You wanted to insert yourself into something that's none of your business so that's exactly what we're going to do. Why do you get to flirt with whoever you want, kiss Moxie, act like Bash's girlfriend, including making out with him and spending god knows how many nights at his house and in his hotel rooms when you follow him around to his races, but I'm the only bad guy here?"
"No one is saying you're the bad guy," Rami chimes in as diplomatically as possible.
Lauren turns on him. "Stevie sure acts like it. Behind my back."
"Stop putting words in my mouth," I fight back. "Wanting you to give Jun the respect he deserves is not me saying you're the bad guy. I have never said that and would never say that about you."
"Just tell me then," her eyes flash back and forth between Brendon and me, "what's so different about what I'm doing and what you're doing, and why is it enough that you feel enough authority to be the one making me feel bad for it when I've been nothing but supportive to you?"
Aside from the cheating, which is something we've already discussed, maybe there isn't. Maybe I'm doing the same thing she is but bearing none of the same judgment. Sure, their relationship and whether it ends before it even starts can potentially affect the band, but it doesn't mean they should sacrifice their lives for the band.
"You're deflecting," Jun says.
"Am I?" She redirects her anger back to him. "Or am I just pointing out the double standards here? By her logic, she's leading him on too."
Braving a glance back at Brendon means catching his eye, knowing a million thoughts are running through his mind, but as much as he wants to hold me close, as he always does when I'm in distress, he has more restraint than I do.
"The difference is they talk through their feelings," Jun chimes in once again. "And they have an understanding. You're not keeping up your end of our talks here. That's the issue, not what's going on with them."
"You're just jumping to her defense like you always do, even when she's in the wrong here." Lauren pulls away from him like his touch is pure ice. To me, she adds, "You're a hypocrite. Maver is no longer in the picture but you're still looking at me like that. I wished you'd give me the chance to prove myself as I've always given you."
"That's what I did!" I yelp. "Weeks ago when you told me you dumped Maver. We talked for hours about him and Jun and tried to work through your feelings. But you're right back here messing with his again when he's vulnerable and it's not fair!"
"Fine. I'm wrong. I'm always in the wrong and you're always right because Stevie can never do wrong."
"Lauren," I sigh.
"Stevie," she mocks.
"I just want what's best for everyone."
"Maybe I don't know what's best!" she exclaims, spinning around and at a loss. "Maybe you don't know either, despite what you all convince yourselves of. Maybe I'm making a mistake, and maybe you are too, and maybe all of us suck and I'm foolish for thinking I could make any of this work. But I would like you to remove your superiority complex sometimes. Just because you know me and you know Jun doesn't mean you know me and Jun."
Jun steps toward her but she retreats.
Lauren opens her mouth, ready to say something but not knowing what to say right now that she won't regret later on, and because I know I have the same proclivity for bleeding my heart out for my friends, I keep my mouth shut as well.
Instead, she chooses to walk away because sometimes it's the only smart option when everyone is too high-wired to react rationally anymore, a point from which we've blazed right past long ago.
Her bedroom door slams shut behind her.
Turning to Jun, I start, "I'm so sorry about—"
"Why did you do that?"
I stop short. "Huh?"
Jun shakes his head, frustration laced between his features. "Why did you do that?" he repeats. "You knew nothing good was going to come of it."
"I was just trying to defend you—"
"I don't need your help." His voice is hard and not the usual soft tone he uses with me. It's then I realize fully that I messed up. "I was taking care of it on my own. You don't need to swoop in and baby me. Whether I get my heart broken in the process is up to me. All you need to do is be there to help me through whatever happens." Jun sends Brendon a glance before following in the wake of Lauren's disappearance.
I turn around and stare at Rami and Brendon.
"What the fuck just happened?"
Rami steps forward and begins to pick up the trash and dirty dishes littered around the kitchen counter. "You have a big heart, Stevie, but sometimes you need to just let things fall where they may."
"Okay, I get this isn't my relationship and I should probably step back but how am I supposed to just watch him be torn up about it and not say anything?"
"The same way I do." His back faces me when he takes the small pile of dishes into the sink and starts washing them. Part of me thinks he's using it as an excuse to drown out the sound of my voice. "I'm not saying you're right or wrong, but she looks up to you. A lot. More than I think you realize. And when she sees you with Brendon and then has to listen to you drill into her, it hurts. How many times have you actually talked to her about this? Was it that one time a few weeks ago?"
My silence is a ringing endorsement.
"She should be handling this thing with Jun a lot better than she is, but I also think she deserves a little more compassion from you. And I think you shouldn't insert yourself in the middle of their arguments just because Jun is your best friend. It isn't your fight."
I open my mouth, ready to say something. I don't know what. But at that moment, Seira bursts through the front door with her giant sunglasses on and slightly out of breath. Maybe her untimely appearance is a blessing in disguise so I don't keep shoving my foot in my mouth.
"Sorry, breakfast ran a little long," she says with a laugh, looking around the room. "Are we ready for the movie? I think we're going to be late."