“And that’s wrong.”
“Is it?” Zach asks. “Or are they just the sacrifices we need to make?”
“Sacrifices are supposed to be things like missing out on parties, and being away from your family for longer than you want to be. Not losing yourself.”
“Well, maybe that’s too optimistic,” Zach says. “I’ve been making sacrifices, too. This? Is not my kind of music. I grew up writing my songs, and listening to my music. I didn’t ask to be in a boy band. Our performance at camp was just meant to be for fun. Then everything started happening so fast, and we had a band name, and Geoff had all these plans for us, and the rest of you were so excited, and I realized, hey. This isn’t what I wanted for myself, but I’m part of a whole, now. If I focus on what I want, we all lose. So I sucked it up. I asked Geoff if I could write some songs, and I even tried to write stuff I thought he’d like, and I still didn’t get the one thing I wanted. I just get to put my name on a song I had no hand in that I barely even like, and that’s my consolation prize.”
I play his words over and over in my head, to be sure I’ve heard him right. “Wait, you … don’t want to be in the band?”
“That’s beside the point.”
“No, it’s the whole point,” I argue. “If you don’t want to be in this band, you shouldn’t be.”
He looks wounded. “You want me out?”
“No. I don’t want you giving up your entire life to do a thing that’s making you miserable because you think the rest of us need you to.”
“It doesn’t make me miserable. I just wish I could be a songwriter. And that I could write my style of music.”
“Okay, but ‘not miserable’ is a low bar.”
“I’m fine.”
“So, you want to stay in the band? You’re happy?”
He shrugs.
“What does that mean?” I ask.
“I don’t know what you want me to tell you.”
Holy shit, getting a simple answer out of Zach is agony. “I want. You to tell me. What you want.”
“I don’t know, okay? I don’t know what I want. I haven’t thought about it.”
“Well, I need you to go and think about it,” I say. “Because I am terrified I’m going to make the wrong decision on your behalf one day. And also, it’s actually important to me that you care, like, deeply care about our relationship and what happens next. We need to be in this together, even if it gets messy. If you tell me right this second that you never want to come out to the public, that is fine, and we’ll figure it out. Together.”
“I do care about you,” he says. “And I care about our relationship.”
“Okay, but, honestly, if we’re going to work, you have to learn how to care about you as well. Because I don’t want to be in a relationship with someone who sees it as something that’s happening to him.”
“Ruben…”
“Also, just so we’re clear,” I add. “I’m coming out to everyone, soon. I don’t know how I’m going to do it, but I am.” Even if the thought of doing it alone, without Zach by my side, makes me feel like I’ve stepped into an empty elevator shaft where I expected there to be a floor. If I don’t do this now, they’ll wrap us even tighter in their web. And even though I feel sick at the thought of doing this, knowing that it will turn Chorus against us, and knowing that if Geoff is right and the world turns on us I’ll have ruined this for everyone, permanently. Our team. Jon and Angel. Zach. Even if that makes me feel like the most selfish, disgusting person who ever lived.
Even then.
“And I don’t need Geoff’s permission,” I add, my stomach churning. “Or Jon’s, or Angel’s. So, don’t get it into your head that if you don’t come out, you’ll be holding me back. Whatever you choose, whether you want to stay in the band, or leave it, or you want to come out publicly, or stay private, or even if you want my help with figuring it all out? I’ll be right here, and we will work through it together. But if you can’t give me anything more than ‘I want everyone to get along’？ Then I just … I don’t think I can…”
“Okay,” he whispers.
“… do this anymore,” I finish.
He swallows, and we sit in a lengthy silence before he finds the words. “Does this mean we’re over?”