"Focus, you can do this." The office chair protested weakly as Earth leaned back and stretched his arms toward the ceiling. The sun disappeared a while ago, and now all that was left was a dark blue sky fading to the black of night. The soft white glow of the computer screen illuminated the room. He stared blankly at the open document.
The letters and lines that stared back at him began to dance across the white screen, shaping and reforming, never staying still. They seemed to take on a life of their own, and mutated into an image of Earth sitting on stage, guitar in hand, leaning close to the microphone.
Word Art Earth stared at Word Art Mix who formed letter by letter, line by line, beside him. Everything about the image was reassuring until Word Art Earth sang the first note.
Earth winced. How could he be so appalling? A Word Art airplane flew across the scene with a banner flying behind it. It read, "That was bad, really bad." Artie's words were like a broken record intruding on Earth's thoughts unbidden and unwanted.
The video of him and Mix singing was officially seared in his memory for life. Mix and Artie talking about practicing and performing was overwhelming, and neither seemed to want to hear his opinion. He'd tried saying something several times to no avail. He felt completely railroaded.
It had to be his fault. Mix could probably sing that song in his sleep. Where did he go wrong? Did he play the guitar in the wrong key? His mind kept circling but always came to the same conclusion. Maybe he should never get on stage with Mix again. He wouldn't want to ruin Mix's reputation.
He could picture Mix, sitting at home, a lonely bottle of wine on the table, a lonely glass in hand, brooding into the red-tinged liquid about his poor performance.
Images of young Earth crying in a corner after sharing his first story with the class streaked through his imagination. He knew exactly how it felt to give to an audience and perceive ridicule in return. He never wanted to feel that again.
Earth deflated in his office chair. It seemed like there was a hot, slightly uncomfortable spotlight shining on his face.
Would Mix be feeling something similar right now?
He glanced at the clock—seven p.m. "Okay, Earth, you can do this. You only have one hour before going back over to Mix's. Let's get some writing done. He focused on the computer screen again and all the letters were back in their proper places as words, sentences, and paragraphs of his story.
"Chapter 7" was solidly at the top of the screen with several paragraphs written below.
Actually, how was he only on seven? What was he doing the last few months? The answer was obvious, "Mix."
Still, he needed to focus. If he was going to have half this book written in five weeks, he would have to seriously marry his keyboard. He wondered how surprised Jane was going to be at the content. He still hadn't worked up the courage to tell her about his new adventure. What if she said no?
She always asked about the plot. Would he be doing another vampire series? She thought maybe it was time to try something different. After all, he'd been with Julien and his journey for eight books now. During their last phone conversation, she said, "Maybe he should try werewolves? That would be new. Plus, werewolves are hot right now."
That was his opening, still, he froze and deflected to a different topic. Chapter seven and only twelve thousand words in. He needed at least triple that to be at the halfway point! "Uggh, you need to focus."
He tried to zero in on the screen again, but the words were still hopping around like jumping beans. What was he going to do? He didn't want to disappoint Mix.
"That's it!" The more he considered, the more he realized he had an excuse to put off music with Mix – at least for the next five weeks. Maybe things would be less jumbled then.
Mix seemed to enjoy working with him, and if he were truthful, it was a rush to be on stage with him. Yes, he would just put it off and make an official decision about singing again, later.
Satisfied with his plan, he tuned the world out and started on the fourth paragraph.
"That'll work." Three more chapters were solidly sketched out and saved. Earth sighed in relief and glanced at the clock at the bottom of the screen.
"That can't be right...." Was it four in the morning?
The numbers seemed to grow and morph. The zeroes suddenly had fanged teeth and were laughing at him.
He told Mix eight p.m. Did he call or text? He tried to think...no. No, he hadn't.
Why?
Why did he set a time yesterday?
He should have known better. Time constrictions, writing, and he did not get along well.
He learned that lesson a long time ago. What would Mix think?
As he jumped up, the chair squeaked loudly in protest. He grabbed his phone and headed out the front door checking it as he went. He expected a message, maybe a series of messages considering who he was thinking about. He grinned slightly at their first contact a few months ago. Who texted someone in the middle of the night and expected a response? Mix, that's who.
There were no notifications. Wait. Why not? It was so unlike him. Was he okay?
"He's okay. Of course, he's okay. He probably just got distracted and forgot, too. Maybe he doesn't think this is a big deal." That would be good. Maybe it was him who blew things out of proportion.
Why did it feel so different now that Earth knew it was only a matter of finding the right moment to tell Mix that he was ready to take the next step in their relationship?
It wasn't until he was standing in front of Mix's house that he paused to consider the time. It was FOUR A.M. and there were no lights on. Mix was asleep.
Randomly, and without permission, the cringe-worthy video of the song they sang popped into his mind along with the blissful look on Mix's face while singing it.
He would have to tell Mix first thing. He didn't want to wait and have him get his hopes up.
Mind made up, he quietly entered Mix's key code. The lock clicked and he opened the door.
"Screak." Earth paused, waiting for sounds from upstairs. Nothing.
"Prrritt!" Som wound her way between his legs.
"Sshh."
"Prrii?"
He picked her warm, fluffy, heavy, purring body up and snuggled her under his neck.
She head-butted him.
He sniffed the fur on top of her head and kissed her. Then he gently put her down and headed for the stairs. Exhaustion from the almost twenty-four hours he'd been awake was catching up with him.
Mix's tousled hair and one ear were the only things peeking out from under the covers. Otherwise, a solid white lump of blanket breathed on the left side of the bed.
Earth melted. How many times had they shared a bed now? It seemed as though Mix already developed the habit of leaving him space. He quietly changed into a pair of Mix's pajamas. He was pretty sure they were primarily there for him because he rarely saw Mix sleep in much, and he thought the only reason Mix put anything on was for his sake. He kind of hoped Mix was dressed in his birthday suit.
Mix muttered a bit in his sleep, but otherwise barely moved as Earth crawled under the covers. Mix's sweatshirt was warm and soft. Earth passed out.
"Oomph." Earth came to just as his funny bone hit the floor with a resounding thump.
He rubbed it gingerly and wondered why anyone would call it a funny bone in the first place. It wasn't funny at all.
"Glad to know you're not dead." Mix was already out of bed and headed toward the door when he threw those words over his shoulder.
Was that sarcasm, or did he mean that seriously? Earth wasn't sure what to make of this Mix. Maybe yesterday affected him. Earth got up and followed him toward the stairs. "Hey, can we talk?"
Mix said, "Sure, what's up?"
Before Earth could think of the right words to say, his mouth was speaking of its own accord. "I can't sing with you right now. Oomph."
For the second time already that morning Earth crashed into something. This time it was Mix who paused unsuspectingly on the stairs. Earth steadied them both. Why did he say that? Earth groaned internally. That was not the line to start this conversation.
Mix's shoulders were stiff. "Fine, if you don't want to be a part of this anymore, you can leave."
What? Where did that come from? Earth thought about the words he spoke. Did Mix not hear him at all? "That's not what I said, Mix."
"I heard you say that you can't sing with me anymore."
Earth groaned. This man was sensitive about yesterday. "Love, I have the first half of a book that I need to hand into my editor in five weeks. I can't sing with you right now. Right now, as in, after those five weeks are up, we can talk about what to do next."
The things Earth would do for this man. He couldn't stand to see the hurt reflected all over Mix's body. He wasn't even responding.
"Mix, did you hear me?"
Suddenly, words spewed from Mix's mouth, "Uggh, you're driving me crazy. Can't you just shut up?" With that, he marched determinedly toward the kitchen.
Earth watched his receding back and considered his options. On the one hand, Mix asked him to leave him alone, and Earth considered going back to bed for a few hours to let the man calm down. On the other hand, he hated leaving things until later.
He decided to go with his gut and headed toward the kitchen. "Mix?"
Said man furiously scooped coffee in dead silence. Earth went and fed Som who was circling Mix's feet. He sat down at a bar stool and stared at Mix's back.
Earth spoke quietly, but it still felt loud in comparison to the stormy, uncomfortable silence they were sitting in. "I'm sorry. I worded it poorly. I think I need coffee. I didn't finish writing until four this morning."
Mix spoke under his breath, "Now you tell me," but the room was still enough that Earth heard it.
"Why didn't you bug me? You didn't send me any messages." Earth said.
Mix turned around, fire in his eyes. "You said you'd text me."
"O-Ka-a-ay," Earth drew out the syllables. Who was this Mix, and what happened to the man who wasn't shy, who was a pest even? "What's wrong?"
"I...." Mix deflated. "Honestly, I don't know."
"Mix, Love, please explain. How will I know if you don't explain?"
Mix gazed at him, "Look, it isn't logical. I know you were probably writing last night."
"That's a true statement. If it helps, it feels different for me, too. When I saw that it was four in the morning, my heart did a backflip. I promised I'd come at eight and didn't show up. I really shouldn't mix time constraints and writing. It doesn't go well."
"Or, I don't know, set an alarm?" Mix said sarcastically.
"Why didn't I think of that?" Earth reached up and smacked his head, "Bad Earth."
Mix rolled his eyes and turned back to the coffee. "So, it feels different for you, too?" He was playing with the coffee mug and fiddling with his sweatshirt.
"Yeah. It did. I mean, I know we understand each other. We've even said we understand, and until now, I've been so glad that we give each other space, but our relationship isn't the same anymore, you know?"
"Yeah?" Mix whispered.
"Yes," Earth said firmly. This felt like the right moment. He got off his stool and rounded the counter to step up behind Mix. He pressed their bodies together and kissed his shoulder before asking him to turn with his hands. "Mix?"
Mix's eyes were firmly placed somewhere around the edges of Earth's collar.
"Mix, can you look at me?" Earth rubbed Mix's lower back.
"What?" Mix lifted his eyes, and Earth saw fire still brewing under the surface.
Acting on instinct, Earth soothed the fire with a gentle kiss on the lips. "Do you remember how I said I needed time to decide about our relationship?"
Mix nodded.
"Well, I don't need time anymore. I...well...I can't imagine not having you beside me. Will you be my boyfriend?"
Mix slapped his shoulder, "Ugh, you!"
"What? What did I do this time?"
"Why can't I stay mad at you?"
Earth laughed, "So, is that a yes?"
Mix planted a sloppy kiss on each of his cheeks. "Yes. But, you'd better not pull a repeat of last night. I feel like we need a rule of some sort."
"Rule?"
"Yes, it's simple, you have to show up within thirty minutes of when you say, or text me saying you can't make it or will be late."
"That's easy to follow. That rule applies to you, too."
"That shouldn't be a problem for me."
"Deal." Earth sealed it with a bear hug.
"Okay, let go, you're squishing me."
Earth didn't let go, but he relaxed his arms around Mix's waist. He wanted to engrave this moment in his memory forever. His boyfriend's hair was still tousled from sleep, and he was wearing boxer briefs and a gray sweatshirt, standing in his kitchen making coffee. Singing together was something they didn't need to think about this morning.