Page 23 of Broken Chorus

“Why are you still standing there,” Aaron grumbled.

“Because I’m trying to figure out what the hell you’re up to,” Hawk said as he closed the distance between them and reached for Aaron, intent on claiming that kiss he’d been picturing.

Instead, Aaron placed a hand on his chest, shutting him down. “You’d know if you’d just take your ass to the music room.”

“And now you owe the swear jar.”

Aaron narrowed his eyes at the jar Hawk had set on top of the refrigerator before fishing his wallet out of his back pocket and pulling out a ten, which he tucked in the jaw.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“Prepaying my next few fuckups, and the two just you let slip.”

“I can fuckin’ pay for my own,” Hawk growled, matching his ten-dollar contribution.

“What is your problem?” Aaron asked. “Why does it seem like you’re mad at me for no reason right now? I’m sorry if you didn’t want me to give an extra piece of monkey bread to the kids, but I didn’t want to waste it.”

“You could have eaten it.”

“I didn’t want to.”

“Why, you love sweets?”

“A little too much sometimes,” Aaron reminded him, and yeah, sometimes Hawk did forget that he tended to overindulge, especially when he was brooding about something. “I’m sorry, I should have asked if it was okay. No excuses. I won’t do it again. I shouldn’t have assumed.”

Aaron turned away from him then to get the dishwasher pod loaded and the machine started, leaving Hawk to trudgeto the music room wondering what was so damned important that Aaron had passed up the opportunity for a mini make-out session while they had the kitchen to themselves. Didn’t he understand how rare opportunities like that were? Or maybe that was the issue. Maybe Aaron was finally starting to understand that those wild, spontaneous moments they’d once enjoyed were a thing of the past. It sucked, but Hawk had been expecting it and just hoped that Aaron understood now why Hawk had been telling him for months that this wasn’t the life for Aaron.

Only, when he stepped into the music room, what he saw shook him to his core. On the whiteboard where he’d been struggling with the lyrics to one of the songs he’d been working on for the band, were the words he hadn’t been able to find.

If only for a day

See me and not my shadow

If only for a day

Let me know that I was loved

If only for a day

Tell me I’m not broken

If only for a day

Keep me safe so I can heal

If only for a day

If only for a day

If only for a day

For a moment he couldn’t breathe, because in his head he could hear Aaron singing it, the words filled with such a raw, desperate pain that tears began to trail down Hawk’s cheeks even as he stalked towards the board. Music had always been a part of their love language, a way to keep them close even when they were furious with one another. How many times had they apologized to one another in the lyrics of the songs they’d written or discovered something else they loved about the otherin the words they chose when they’d written a line. Snatching up his guitar, Hawk plugged it in and started working out the chords to go with the words, because that’s what they’d build the song on.

Did Aaron even know how precious a gift he’d just given him? When he’d suggested that Hawk give himself twenty minutes in the room each day, either when the kids were napping or once he had them in bed, Hawk had failed to see what the point would be. Twenty minutes was nothing. Barely enough time to make sure everything was tuned.

Your shit’s always tuned perfectly, stop making excuses!

So fine, he’d reluctantly agreed to the twenty minutes, if only because he missed the strings beneath his fingers and figured twenty minutes, well at least he could play a couple songs. He’d never expected to start creating something on the second night, but inspiration had hit the moment he’d stepped through the door, and every day after that he’d been grateful for those twenty minutes. He’d gotten a lot done and Aaron had just helped him take a huge step closer to being finished. A rush hit as he played through the melody of the chorus, adding a note here, changing a chord there. The last time he’d felt this way had been the final night he’d stood on stage and over the past few months he’d started to fear that he’d never experience that exuberance again. For twenty minutes a day he could have this. For twenty minutes a day he could be the Hawk of old.

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