Page 87 of Doesn't Count

“The idea of you.” He finally clarifies.

I accept his answer for now, pushing that nagging curiosity away for later. It’s not like Khaos is of sound mind anyway.

Instead, I wrap my arm around him, finding his fingers and lace mine through them.

“I can be that for you... the light in your darkness.” I reassure him, pressing our tied hands to the center of his chest against his heart.

“Even after what I’ve done?” His voice breaks, another sob wavering on the edge.

I take a deep breath, the thought of pushing past his wrongdoings to see that he only did it for survival is extremely hard. Something that takes patience and practice, something that I might have to work at day after day, but something I feel in my heart that I have to do.

“Khaos, you survived. What you’ve done in your past, let it stay there. Let it be the reason you live now.” I tell him.

I can feel him swallow his shame. Even in this broken state, Khaos still holds a power over me that I don’t think I can ever shake. He’s confessed his sins to me, sins that rival half of the inmates at the Metropolitan Correctional Center in Chicago.

He rolls onto his back, his bloodshot eyes staring up at the ceiling.

He’s broken. Shattered so thoroughly that I don’t think anyone could ever put him back together the same way, but all those broken pieces have somehow come together in one beautiful mosaic. Even if those pieces are stained red and only depict a sorrowful story.

“It doesn’t have to count.” I whisper. “Your past.”

I let that sink in for him before crushing my lips against his, ignoring the fact that he threw up just moments ago. This kiss isn’t meant to be anything more than acceptance. A tether to hold him to this world because he belongs, despite all the things he’s done.

We lay there entwined until sleep takes us, deep and dreamless.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Ashton

Ihave yet to bring myself to write about Khaos. Especially, after everything he’s confided in me. It feels... wrong. Somehow, even after all the risks I’ve taken on this tour, my morals still get the best of me.

My cell phone rings as I shut my laptop, the name on my caller ID eliciting a groan.

“Hi Blane.” I answer sweetly.

“Ashton.” He clips. “Remember that chat we had a couple months ago in Chicago?”

Acid sloshes around inside my empty stomach. I nod but realize he can’t see me. “Yes.”

“What’s the plan?”

“Sir, I don’t think it’s a good idea. We’ll look unprofessional.” I try to explain again.

“Why do you think we had the paparazzi camping outside the venue in Chicago? It wasn’t to boost their fame.” He snarks.

“That was you?” I ask, thinking back to how he pretended to be upset.

“I was saving your project. You’ve exposed nothing substantial and now look, the lead singer has a mystery girlfriend.”

“He doesn’t have a -”

“Don’t care, Ashton. It’s not about the truth, it’s about what the people want, and they want more than just menial details on the band’s origin story. I’m starting to think you don’t really want this job.”

“I do! This is my dream job, but I just don’t think-” I stop mid-sentence as Khaos appears in the entry of the bedroom doorway on the bus. “I have to go.”

“We will discuss this further.” Blane disconnects, the threat lingering long after our call.

I smile uncomfortably up at Khaos, knowing that I could lose my job if I don’t betray this broken man in front of me. Hehasn’t been able to trust in years, for reasons anyone can understand. The thought of outing him wouldn’t just jeopardize his band’s reputation, but it could destroy his life.

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