Page 12

William

Xavier: I’ll be at your place in two hours.

The message was time stamped an hour ago. I flopped back onto my pillow groaning. I hadn’t mentioned our scheduled work session to Ryan yet. Between our new sleeping arrangement—which may have ended, since I slept the whole night alone—and our new routine of running, reading, and watching movies, I hadn’t wanted to rock the boat any further. Not to mention the tense lead up to the doctor visit and the stress of the physical exam.

We could both use a few days to breathe, but Xavier wouldn’t agree to another delay. Thanks to me, we now had days to meet a deadline that would’ve normally taken us a couple of weeks. We’d have to work day and night to get it done.

After a quick trip to the bathroom, I went in search of Ryan. A sliver of sunlight broke through his bedroom doorway. The murmuring of voices caught my attention, and my footfalls slowed as I neared his open door. I’d been about to knock on the doorframe, but got distracted by the sight of him sitting cross legged on his bed, a note pad pressed to his knee as he wrote something down before erasing it and trying again.

Frowning, he grabbed the remote and lifted it toward the television. I assumed it was to rewind the drama he was watching in order to get a second look at the subtitle. He paused with it suspended mid-air when he spotted me.

“Morning. You left your door open.” I tried to remember a time when he’d done so whilst inside the room. Other than his first night here I couldn’t think of any, which made this occurrence feel intentional. It felt like an invitation.

Was he letting me know we were okay? That him not showing up to my room last night didn’t mean he was shutting me out?

He lowered his arm, staring at me. Suddenly Xavier’s visit was the last thing on my mind. All I could think about was how much I missed having Ryan in my bed.

“I woke up alone, your side of the bed was cold. Are you upset with me?” I regretted it the moment I said it. Implying he owned one side of my bed felt presumptuous, or like I’d gotten ahead of myself. Ryan didn’t owe me anything. Obligation or pressure were the last things he needed to feel right now. Still, I couldn’t take it back.

He kept me in suspense for a few moments before shaking his head.

“Did you sleep well?” Without thought, my gaze went to the bedpost, and so did his. There were no chains. He nodded.

“Are you sure?” I hedged, strangely feeling hurt by his answer and unable to keep the truth from spilling out. “Because I didn’t.”

Ryan tilted his head, assessing me. Did I look as desperate as I felt? As confused as I sounded? Did I owe him an apology for both? I wasn’t sure what he saw while he stared through me, but his gaze softened as he amended his previous answer, giving me the hand gesture for so-so. I shouldn’t have felt better, but I did.

I leaned against the door frame, aiming for nonchalant. “I’ve been neglecting work for weeks. For good reason,” I added, hating to see guilt overtake his expression.

“Anyway, I’ve had the final cut on a film I scored for a while now. The director has some concerns about the number of cadences used, and the register of some of the instruments in the more sentimental moments. He has some experience with music composition, which always leads to way too much feedback. It’s why I prefer working with music-illiterate directors. It allows for more artistic freedom on my part.” The speed of my speech increased, signs of an oncoming ramble. Ryan’s frown deepened.

“He wants everything to be big, dramatic. But you need to take the emotions of a scene into account, you know? How you want the audience to feel, even if they aren’t in said scene. Do the characters have any desires, where does the scene lead? Where—” I stopped when Ryan held his hand up. I’d explained all of this to him over dinner some nights ago. He’d sat riveted and appalled as I told him it was a film’s score that dictated what the audience felt. That it had little to do with the acting or dialogue.

He’d immediately made us watch three movies in succession, wanting to prove me wrong. It took everything in me not to smile when he turned shocked eyes on me after leaping in his seat at a jump scare. It hadn’t been the zombie appearing out of thin air. It was the slow build of halting, off-kilter piano keys at the highest octave that sent his heart rate into the stratosphere. It had been the music reaching its crescendo with an explosion of horns and dark notes, dominating the scene and signaling the approaching danger was now here.

Ryan motioned for me to get the point. I straightened.

“Xavier will be here soon. He’ll be here most of the day for the next few days while we hammer things out.”

His lips tightened.

“I should have mentioned it days ago, but there was a lot going on.”

Ryan climbed off the bed, his movements as graceful and fluid as water. It stunned me to think he’d been afraid of his own shadow just a month ago. He seemed nothing like the man who’d hid in the shower yesterday. With every day came a new change, a bolder Ryan in some way, even though he avoided making the biggest change of all. The one that would bring him closer to being whole. With his pencil and notepad in hand, he walked over to me.

“I didn’t want to pile anything else on you,” I continued, my mouth going dry. Why was I looking at him in this way? A way that made me feel wrong, and even more of a bad person than I already felt.

He stopped a couple of feet away and began writing, then held the paper out. I squinted to read what he’d jotted down.

Do you want him here?

“Do I… want him here?”

Ryan nodded.

“Sure. We work together. I don’t mind having him here. It’s the perk of having an in-home studio.”

His pink lips pressed together.

What am I missing? I studied him closely. Two red blotches appeared on his cheeks. “Are you asking if I hate that he has to be here, because I wish it could just be us? You and me?”

He looked at his feet, but then peered up at me through thick lashes.

“No,” I breathed. “I don’t want him here.”

He tucked his hair behind his ear, nodding once before shooing me backward. I cleared his doorway, and he shut the door in my face. I went back to my room to get showered and dressed for the day, feeling better than I had in a while, and for once not questioning it.

I let Xavier in from upstairs to avoid a possible run-in with Ryan. It seemed best. We’d just finished going through our game plan for today’s work session when the short beep and release of the door’s keypad lock sounded.

Xavier and I looked up to find Ryan standing in the doorway. He seemed unsure of himself, or unsure of his presence in this space. His gaze asked if he was welcome.

“Come in,” I said, feeling the heat of Xavier’s disapproval at my back. Ryan let the door close behind him and looked around, studying the mounted TV displaying the opening credits of the film we were working on. “You can hang out over there while we work.” I pointed to the loveseat adjacent to us.

“William,” Xavier cautioned under his breath. “It’s a breach of contract to allow anyone to watch this.”

“He won’t tell anyone,” I said, not taking my eyes off Ryan as he maneuvered around the various equipment. I glanced over at Xavier to find him gaping at me. “It’ll be fine,” I assured him, jumping back into my concerns over the scene one cue.

It took us four hours to work through the first quarter of the film. Ryan watched and listened as we brought it all together. After getting to the midway point, we decided to roll it back to the beginning. I wanted to watch with no interruption before making adjustments this time.

Ryan scooted to the edge of the loveseat, looking between the door and the TV, his bottom lip tucked between his teeth.

“We’ll wait for you,” I said, pretending I didn’t sense Xavier’s displeasure.

“We don’t have time to wait,” he said once Ryan left the room.

“It’s fine,” I shot back. “We could all use a little break.” I headed for the bathroom before he could respond.

When Ryan returned, he had a bowl of caramel popcorn in one hand, and a bottle of water in the other. He set both down in front of me, not meeting my eyes before retaking his seat. I hadn’t eaten all day, and felt faint because of it. He’d brought me my favorite sweet snack, and ensured I had something to wash it down with because popcorn made me thirsty.

Had he left just for this? Or was it an afterthought? He hadn’t disappeared for long, though, so maybe…

“Can we continue or do you need another minute?” Xavier asked in a tight voice, shaking me from my preoccupation with Ryan. I gestured toward him with the bowl. He had to be hungry too.

“No thanks.”

I glanced over at Ryan in time to catch his displeased expression.

I had to practically sit on my hands to avoid making tweaks while we watched the romantic drama. Certain spots needed more work. I didn’t know how I managed to notice with my attention diverted to Ryan and his enjoyment of the movie.

By the time Xavier and I had dug back into the edits, I’d started ignoring the score’s time codes in exchange for taking my prompts from Ryan’s emotional responses—or lack of. If he straightened during an adrenaline-charged moment, I elevated the action cue, causing the screen to erupt in kinetic energy.

If he seemed bored or distracted when he should feel drawn in and connected, I made a note to double back and strengthen the musical signatures that echoed throughout the entire film. The idea was that the musical motifs would imprint on the audience’s subconscious, weaving together a sonic tapestry between characters, objects, or concepts. A reminder of what was at stake and what had already been suffered through and endured due to a love separated by war.

And when he looked flushed during a scene involving a simple kiss, I scaled back completely, letting raw honesty color the moment. I did so by ensuring the music played as a backdrop to the sensual sounds coming from the characters before the screen faded to black. In such a short time, and completely unaware of it, Ryan had become my muse.

“What are you doing?” Xavier asked during the film’s climax. “You were supposed to cut out as soon as the sun set.”

“I’m trying something,” I whispered, my gaze on Ryan. Xavier had to notice, but I couldn’t pull my eyes away long enough to confirm it.

“We’re not getting paid to try something new. This isn’t the rough cut. Everything’s been decided. We have to stick to the codes.”

“We’ll do a playback. If it isn’t better, we’ll do another cut.”

“Are you also going to beg for more time on a project we’ve already gotten a generous extension on?”

“If I have to,” I said, finally looking at him. Xavier looked between Ryan and me, his expression full of disbelief and jealousy.

“Fine,” he bit out, rolling his eyes when I nudged his shoulder playfully. Xavier took his job seriously. We both did. It made us great working partners.

I rewound to minute ninety-eight and hit play again, concentrating hard to pick up what wasn’t working. I wanted Ryan to melt from the melodrama, wanted him to pump a fist in the air or flutter an eyelash or two after the long-lost soldier fell into his lover’s arms. After all, they’d been apart for many years. He did nothing, and I wanted to see if I could fix that.

“The key didn’t extend long enough,” I said, hitting pause again. “That’s the difference between watery eyes and a tear actually falling.”

“Trust me, the tears will fall. It was a microsecond, William.”

“Even microseconds count.”

“Okay, we can extend it digitally, then.”

“We can’t mix digital in with this.”

“No one will be able to tell. We’re probably the only fools in the business who still go through the trouble of recording with a live orchestra.”

“Which is why everyone’s clambering at our door. Remember that.” I headed for the live room. “Mics,” I shot back. Xavier’s frustrated curse cut off once the door sealed shut. I sat on the piano bench, waiting for everything to fire up and for Xavier to give the thumbs up.

“You can’t be in there,” I heard Xavier say over the intercom. I turned on the bench as Ryan walked in.

“He’s fine.” I pressed a finger to my lips, letting Ryan know to be quiet. He studied the instruments before stopping at the violin just as he had before.

The red light above the door flashed. Xavier’s signal to start. I wouldn’t have won any awards for my skills as a pianist, but I knew enough to get by, enough to make the ending of this film something my audience-of-one would never forget. Ryan’s approval would mean everything.

I pretended to need more time in the live room than I actually did. I refused to move until Ryan finished his silent exploration.

Once we were back in the control room, I asked Xavier to rewind the ending. This time when the characters embraced, engaging in the most breathtaking kiss, I felt it deep in my core.

I turned to Ryan, trying to keep my expression neutral. I frowned at seeing his glare pinned in Xavier’s direction. My bewilderment faded when I realized why.

The atmosphere in the control room thickened, the tension awkward enough to make me shift in my seat as my gaze fell to Xavier. A level of regret I’d never reached before ate away at me. Xavier was watching me with heartbreak and longing in his eyes. He knew. He knew what I’d been trying to hide from myself.