Page 64 of Hard Rock Muse

I sat up in bed, swinging my legs around to place my feet on the floor. I could hear the rustling from the sheets, but Julian didn’t reach out to touch me.

“Ev…” Julian started. “What is it?”

“You can’t…”

I paused, gathering my thoughts. I needed to figure out a way to say it delicately, without causing him more pain. I needed to try and explain without going into my past.

“You may think it’s romantic to call me your muse,” I said. “Maybe some people would think it is. But to me, it’s not. It’s concerning. Unhealthy.”

“I don’t understand.”

Hugging my arms to my chest, I looked down at the dark hardwood. The cold air in the apartment felt desolate compared to the warmth of his touch.

“You shouldn’t have to rely on another person for your creativity,” I said. “It shouldn’t work like that.”

“Why not?” he said. “You inspire me.”

“And what happens if we break up again?”

I felt him freeze.

“Will you stop being able to compose again if we’re no longer together?” I pressed. “How do you think that makes me feel? Don’t you think it’s unfair to put all that pressure on any other person? As if I’m responsible for your success or failure?”

He did come to me then, wrapping his arms around me from behind.

“That’s not what I meant,” he said. “Not at all.”

“That’s how it sounds to me,” I said. “Like I'm being guilted into staying just so you can keep making music.”

“Are you thinking of leaving?” he asked quietly, mournfully.

“No.” I turned to bury my face in his chest. “I don’t ever want to leave.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“Even a gilded cage is still a cage,” I said. “We can’t have this hanging over our heads, the thought that I might be staying only out of guilt, only because you can’t do this without me. And the thought that you might only want to be with me because it helps your career. Julian, this whole thing just sounds fucked up.”

He gathered me up into his arms.

“I never meant for it to sound like that,” he said. “I’m not using you. And I’m not trying to guilt you.”

He dropped his head onto my shoulder, exhaling heavily.

“I wish I could tell you in words how much you mean to me,” he said. “But right now I’ll just have to do it through song.” He brought our heads together, pressing his forehead against mine. “Be patient with me?”

I took in a shuddering breath. I nodded and squeezed his hand.

“I can do that,” I said.

It would have to be enough.

For now.