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Tristan put his hand on Leaf’s neck and kissed him. Just like that. He didn’t want to keep it behind closed doors any longer. Let the others see that they felt more for each other. Until now, it had been Leaf who had always held back at Tristan’s request.

“I could never have done this without you,” he whispered against Leaf’s lips. “Never.”

Leaf wrapped his arms around him and kissed him again. In the background, he could hear the band and the crew cheering.

The moment was perfect.

Tristan turned off the TV and glanced at the half-eaten sandwich in his hand. He lost his appetite. The longing for Leaf nearly tore him apart. He understood he couldn’t return home and expect everything to revert to how it was before. Nothing remained the same. Yet, the love he harbored for Leaf persisted, a burning ache in his chest.

He had deliberately avoided contemplating his return. Not once during the drive back to Los Angeles did he entertain thoughts of the impending reunion. He couldn’t bring himself to. Fear gripped him too tightly. Yes, avoidance had become second nature to him.

Did I push myself on him too much?

Not even ten horses could have stopped him from embracing and kissing Leaf.

Where could he have gone?

He secretly suspected it, but right now, he wasn’t ready to face that truth.

Does he still love me?

They had vowed to remain faithful to each other and understood the importance of giving each other space, especially Leaf, when his inner struggles resurfaced. It wasn’t the first time Leaf had withdrawn, leaving Tristan feeling isolated and abandoned in his absence.

He’ll get it together again. Unless … he’s punishing himself for something.

That thought didn’t sit well with Tristan, making him panic and feel guilty for everything.

Before the whirlwind of thoughts caught up with him, he went to the kitchen in search of some relief. Milo had always made sure it was on hand—in the form of beer, vodka, or whiskey.

“Stay away from it, little brother,” he always said to him. “I know you hardly drink anything, but once you start, you won’t be able to stop. That’s not good.”

Milo’s supplies were impressive. He had stocked up shortly before his death.

“Thanks, big brother,” Tristan said, grabbing the half-full bottle of Jack Daniel’s and a glass before sinking back onto the couch. He couldn’t escape into darkness, a realization that the past three weeks had brutally reinforced. Since the accident, insomnia haunted him, making it impossible to flee from the haunting memories.

After a few days in the clinic, when he had reached his limits, they had given him Valium. However, the medication left him groggy during the day, so he discontinued it. At least the pills Snider had prescribed made him somewhat sleepy.

The right combination will knock me out.

He popped a pill and took a big gulp of Jack Daniel’s. Unfortunately, the carousel of memories spun faster than the medication could take effect. They rushed in like a tornado, blurring his surroundings until Tristan found himself trapped in his own thoughts.

Leaf, who could barely stand and had regarded him as if something in his chest was shattering into a thousand shards. Who had almost collapsed in his arms and held onto him as if he were his lifebuoy.

Milo’s face then came into view. Bleeding. In his arms. A tear rolled down Tristan’s cheek. His lips trembled. The ground beneath his feet opened up, and he fell into a black hole, deeper and deeper into an endless abyss.

Panicked, he jolted awake, knees hitting the floor, covering his face with his shaky palms. He wanted to scream, but the memories choked him, and he gasped for air.

No.

I have to be strong.

For Leaf. For the band. For the music.

I can do this.

Why isn’t Leaf here?

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