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something-tofightfor · 1 year

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Root Pearl: 6

Pairing: Ezra x female reader - musician AU

Word Count: 12,655

Rating: M. There’s a lot of angst in this one, but it doesn’t ever go explicit.

Summary: As happy as he is to sing for you, the time spent in his studio - and your growing closeness - are enough to give him pause.

When he decides to tell you more about himself and what happened, he can only prepare for your reaction so much.

Chapter warnings: Ezra’s not handling the loss of his arm or the changes to his body well, and it spills over a lot here -because he feels very vulnerable.

Blanket warnings: loss of a parent, character death, survivor’s guilt, learning to deal with the loss of a limb, infidelity (not Reader w/Ezra), blood, bodily injury, heavy angst.

Author’s note:

I’ve been picking away at this for months, and it’s finally here. I initially planned to end this a little later on in the storyline, but when I checked the word count and we were almost at 13k, I figured this was a good stopping point.

Thank you for your patience - I hope you like this chapter.

(New banner, and when you read, you’ll see why.)

Catch up on the first five parts of this story here!

He busied himself at the computer while you hung up the jacket, and even though there was no real reason for it, Ezra’s heart raced the entire time.

He’d practiced a few times with the rest of the band, and that had been nerve wracking, but they’d been patient with him - content to play their instruments and let him join when he felt comfortable. But this is … this is different. He opened the software and clicked through it, choosing a few different songs and adding them into a playlist. There won’t be others to hide behind tonight.

“Have you decided what you’d like to hear?” He spoke when you settled down onto the stool beside his chair, Ezra turning his head toward you.

“Is there anything you want to sing?” You pressed your lips together, shaking your head. “Maybe one of the songs you’ll play at the concert? Just to practice it?” You wrinkled your nose, slowly shaking your head back and forth.”I’m happy to listen to whatever you choose to sing, Ezra.”

“I have something to admit to you.” He focused on the computer screen, selecting the option to turn off his main vocal track on the pre-loaded songs. “I am… anxious to let you hear me tonight.” He froze with his hand on the mouse, waiting. “And I haven’t been that way about singing in a long time.”

“You don’t have to do this.” You reached for him, cautiously setting your hand on his knee. “I’ve seen the studio. We had dinner. You showed me the jacket, and let me touch it. I can wait to hear you until the show.” You meant it - he could hear the sincerity in your tone and feel it in the way you were touching him, your thumb sweeping slowly over the outside of his leg. “We can just go hang out in the other room if you want. I’m not here because you offered to sing, Ezra.”

The last sentence was quiet, and as it ended, he turned to face you again. “I know very well that you aren’t.” Get it together. “I’ll start with Slingback. That’s one you should know well.”

“Very well.” After squeezing lightly, you pulled your hand back. “Do you want me to move? Give you some space? I can go stand by the door so it’s like I’m as far away as I would be if you were onstage.”

He stared at you, thinking, and then Ezra finally smiled - the tension breaking, though it didn’t disappear. Kevva sent you to me herself, didn’t she.

“No. You stay right there. That way if I need you to stop the music, you can.” He stood, swallowing hard as he looped the headset microphone over one ear. “Forgive me if I’m out of practice, hmm?” You rolled your eyes but nodded, and then he reached out, pressing the button to start the music.

It pumped through the speakers mounted around the room, the volume loud but not overwhelming - and as Ezra began to pace, he closed his eyes, arm hanging down by his side.

When he opened his mouth and let the first notes free, Ezra’s chest tightened further.

Slingback was a song he’d sung as an opener countless times before, one that usually got a huge reaction from the crowd. It also usually set him at ease, no matter how stressed he was because it was familiar. But that night, it had the opposite effect; each lyric forcing him to pull from deep within himself, his frame rigid as he moved around the room.

The words and melody came easily, but he was hyper focused on the way he sounded - both to himself and to you, the grit of his damaged vocal cords loud in his ears. Reaching up with his hand, he pressed his palm to the center of his chest as he got to the first chorus. One of the notes was flat, and he winced at the sound, though he caught himself immediately, getting back on track by the time the next phrase began.

It was to be expected and he knew it.

He’d taken months off, resting his voice and doing little more than speaking or humming along to the radio. The few sessions he’d attended with the band had shaken the rust off, but little else, and it was apparent. When he knew he was facing away from you, he opened his eyes, tilting his head back and staring up at one of the mounted speakers.

He could feel you watching him, your eyes on his back, but the familiar position soothed him, Ezra actually smiling as he started the second verse, fingers curling against the material of his shirt while he held a note. She was right. That’s better.

He adjusted the volume of his voice as the song continued, eyes remaining locked on the wall, and as it wound down, he was still smiling. This feels good. Ezra’s shoulders relaxed halfway through the final chorus, and when the song ended, he pressed his hand against his belly, nodding in approval. I can do this. “Don’t stop it.” Turning his head to speak to you from over his shoulder, he said your name. “The next one’s Karoclan.”

—

For long moments, you were positive that he was going to call the whole thing off - tell you that the night was over and that you needed to leave. And I wouldn’t blame him. You’d watched his unease grow as he prepped the software to sing - had seen his fingers shaking, the man’s posture tight. I don’t want to make him nervous. That’s not right.

But you’d also seen the determination in his eyes as he selected the songs, noticed the way his gaze flicked down to your hand’s placement before he stood - and you’d known that no matter what out or options you gave him, Ezra wouldn’t take any of them.

Because that’s not his style. It never has been.

He began to move around the room slowly, the song’s intro playing as he got comfortable. Even though the first lines had been shaky, you couldn’t stop yourself from lifting one hand and pressing your palm against your mouth at the sound of his amplified voice, eyes locked on him. Oh, Ezra.

You were used to hearing him through a microphone and speakers onstage. You’d heard him through videos that he’d posted online - no effects or amplification, but still not live. This, though… this is … Ezra’s voice did sound different - you heard the roughness in it at certain points, but that didn’t make it worse. Instead, it made the song sound new, more emotion behind the lyrics and the change in his voice proving that not only was he still there, he was still Ezra, and it was still his song.

You mouthed the words along with him, careful not to make any noise, and as he held a note, you closed your eyes, lips pressed together. How lucky am I right now? It was a glimpse of him that hundreds of other people would have been desperate for, and that night, it was only for you.

As the first song ended, Ezra still facing away, you shifted and reached out, ready to pause the program until he told you not to. Oh, alright.

The second song was one of your favorites from the album, and as Ezra’s footsteps picked up again, you watched as he held his hand out in front of him, fingers splayed. He’s getting into it. That’s great. That means he’s more comfortable. Ezra turned to the side as he sang, and you got a glimpse of his profile - his head tilted back, hand rising again to settle against the top of his opposite shoulder and squeeze.

His voice rose in volume, too, eyes tightly shut by the time he began to bob his head in time with the music. Without realizing that you were doing it, you bit down on one knuckle to keep from gasping out loud. It was strange to see him singing the song without one hand wrapped around the neck of his guitar, and even though you missed the sight of the instrument, it took nothing away from the performance.

He’s just as good when the only thing he’s doing is singing. You grinned as he lowered his head, turning away from you entirely again as the tempo changed, the sound of a quick guitar solo filling the room. You wondered how hearing that made him feel, but when he spun in your direction, he was smirking as he started singing again, his hand lifting to run through the messy curls atop his head. He’s alright. He’s… he’s smiling. He’s … holy shit, Ezra.

Ezra closed the distance, holding his hand out to you without missing a beat. You took it and when he closed his fingers around yours, you rose, not even trying to conceal your grin. No, I want him to see. Mouthing the words back at him, the two of you finished the song out, his grip tight on your hand until his voice trailed off and the music ended. Ezra winked at you and lifted your hand to his lips, pressing a kiss against your knuckles.

“One second.” He let go and then reached past you, one of your hands rising to his side so that you could steady him. When the third song stopped after only a note or two, you blew out a breath, eyes squeezed shut as you attempted to take a breather. Oh Kevva that was… “Well? How did I do?”

Turning your head, you met Ezra’s gaze, the warmth in the deep brown of his eyes radiating toward you. “Ezra, I …” I don’t know what to say. “That was …”

“You’re speechless? Was it that bad? Hmm.” He laughed, stepping away from you and lowering himself back into his chair. “I’m sorry I got off to a rocky start there, I was just …”

“That wasn’t bad by any means. You have no reason to apologize, you sounded incredible.” Sitting back down, you cocked your head to the right. “I’m sorry if I made you nervous, but if it makes any difference, you were great. You can hear a little bit of a change in your vocals, but it doesn’t… I still think… no one’s going to care.” You winced at how much like a fan you sounded, but when both of his brows rose, you decided it didn’t matter. “Was it the song that made you more confident, or just because you’re more relaxed with stuff of of Karoclan?”

“Well, when I didn’t hear you groaning in disgust at the sound of my new voice, I figured that you were enjoying yourself. It made me feel… like I was doing something well.” Is he serious? “That song is one of my favorites. And I remember you saying that you also enjoy it, so -”

“I think it should have been a single.” You shrugged. “It’s really good. And as the title track, it would have made sense. Your voice in the pre-chorus? Ezra it’s -”

“I was against it being a single.” He sighed. “I didn’t want to get sick of hearing it on the radio. I wanted to keep playing it because I wanted to, not because people expected it.” Oh. Oh, that… wow. “The label fought me on that, but I won. Luckily, since it wasn’t our first album, I had much more say in things.” He smiled. “I’m sorry that you were left disappointed by that decision.”

“It makes sense now.” Resting your elbow on the edge of the desk, you leaned your chin against your palm. “I wasn’t disappointed. I can still listen to it on the album, or from one of the videos I took of you playing it.” His smile widened, Ezra’s eyes closing briefly.

“Was it strange for you to see me without my guitar?” He laid his hand on the desk, too, pointer finger swirling along the grain of the wood. “It’s very odd for me not to have it. I think that’s part of why I…” He glanced down, shaking his head. “Why I’m so nervous.”

“It was.” You reached for him, covering his hand with yours. “But I can’t imagine how you feel.” Should I ask? I’m going to ask. “Will you have it during the show? Even if you don’t play, will you still wear it just as a comfort thing?”

“I haven’t decided yet.” He smiled, the expression sad. “I’ve tried to play a few times, using my prosthetic?” You nodded, focused on Ezra’s face as he spoke. “But it’s not the same, and it’s almost worse to have it there and not be able to play like I could before.” He turned his head toward the rack of instruments, sighing. “Will you bring one of them here?” What? What do you - “Any of them. Pick your favorite.”

“Ezra, I…” He squeezed your hand and then let go, sitting straight up. “What if I drop it, or -”

“They’re insured.” He blinked a few times and then gave you another sad smile. “And they survived the wreck, so I’m sure they’ll survive being carried a few feet across a room in your careful hands..” Wincing, you stood and turned toward the rack, heart pounding. My favorite? How do I … You reached for one of the instruments, running your fingers over the headstock as you looked between them. “I’m very curious to see what you choose.”

You liked the acoustic he used onstage - the wood dark and well-loved, most of it glossy and polished, though there were dull spots that you recognized as the places that rubbed against his clothing and forearm. Then there was the deep green electric guitar that he’d opened the set with the first time you ever saw The Fringe play - the color swirling over the surface like rippling water, the silver and black hardware shining brightly under the lights. I like those, but …

Your fingers moved to a new instrument and your smile grew wider as you nodded, carefully dropping them to the neck before curling them around it, lifting the guitar gently. “I know you’re going to ask, so I’ll just tell you.” Using your other hand to support the weight of the guitar’s body, you turned back to face the man. “Every time I’ve seen you, you’ve used this guitar to play my favorite song.”

“Don’t tell me what it is.” He eyed the instrument, taking and then releasing a deep breath. “It must be something old if you’ve seen me play it every time.” You nodded, carefully sitting down and resting the guitar atop your knees, fingers still protectively around the neck and your other hand pressed to the back end of the body. You watched him closely, Ezra leaning forward and running his fingers along the strings, plucking a few of them with the edges of his already short nails. “Not something on Aurelac Rush. That’s nobody’s favorite album.”

“It’s a good concept album, Ezra, but it’s not my favorite, no.” He laughed quietly, plucking another string. “Sorry.”

“No need to apologize.” He mumbled the words, looking up and meeting your eyes before he wet his lips. “It’s got to be off of …Hello From The Green, but it’s not Fazer.” You shook your head, trying to keep your expression neutral. He won’t guess. There’s eleven other songs on there. “I think I know.” He pulled his hand back, nodding. “Put that guitar on.” What? “Don’t give me that look, put it on. Strap around your neck, hands like you’re going to play.”

“Ezra, I don’t… I don’t play, I -”

“That guitar is my most prized possession, the least you can do for me is put it on and hold it like you love it.” His tone were serious, but still friendly, and there was a look in his eyes that was so charged it felt as though it might burn you if you let it go for too long. But I… I like seeing it.

“Ok.” You slung the strap over your shoulder and then situated the guitar, one arm over the body so that you could rest your palm flat against the strings, the fingers of your other hand carefully wrapped around the neck. “Ezra, this is -”

“Now... this is something I’ve never seen before in all my time as a musician.” He smiled at you, the man’s head tilting to the side as he spoke. “Someone else holding that instrument.” You told me to. You asked me to - “May I?” Your confusion was apparent, but Ezra only nodded after you did, reaching forward with his hand and urging you to move the one on the neck. “I’m going to position your fingers. You need to press down on the strings, but do it at an angle, so that you’re only touching certain ones.”

He scooted closer, the warmth of his touch radiating through your hand and down your arm - and you forced yourself to pay attention, eyes cast down so that you could watch what he was showing you. “That’s uncomfortable.” You wrinkled your nose when he urged your fingers apart. “Ow.”

“When I first started playing, I practiced for at least two hours a night.” He glanced up at you, smirking. “Sometimes more. My fingers were raw and aching, but it was worth it.” He urged your thumb into position and then used two fingers to press down on yours, increasing the pressure you put on the strings. “Use your other hand and strum downward with your thumb. Keep these just like this.”

You did as he asked, inhaling sharply when a chord rang out, but Ezra’s murmured very good was enough to keep you focused. The sound was muffled, and when you frowned, adjusting your fingers and trying again, the second attempt was clearer. “Oh, there I -”

“Keep doing that.” He stood, walking to the rack and grabbing something before sitting back down in front of you. “A pick.” You took it from him and then strummed again, humming as the note became clear. “Ok, now, we’re going to move both of those fingers down - one fret and one string.”

“Am I really getting a guitar lesson from you right now?” You spoke even as you focused on doing what he was telling you to, repositioning your fingers and wrinkling your nose at the difference in the way the new placement felt. “Because this is really fucking cool.”

“You are. A short one.” He glanced up, nodding. “Play.” You strummed again, that note right the first time. “Good. Move back and play both of them.” He was patient as you did so, and though it took a few tries, you eventually got it. Ezra’s pleased smile at your success was more meaningful than anything he could have said. “One more, and then you’ll put them together.”

He reached for your hand a third time, his touch gentle, and when you played that note, you gasped. No, it can’t be. There’s… “Ezra?” Lip trembling, you tightened your hold on the instrument, fingers sliding out of place. “Are you serious?”

“Play the three of them.” He sat back, nodding. “C’mon, I know you can.” He reached into his pocket for his phone, pointing it at your hands. “Just so you can see yourself when you’re done.” He’s recording me? That’s … intimidating. “Go ahead, and after you play them once, play them again.”

Swallowing hard, you shut your eyes and took a deep breath, relaxing your grip and moving it back into the first position, nodding as you strummed. It was clumsy for the first few times, the squeal of the strings and the pause between chords as you repositioned your fingers making you frown. But when you got it, your lips parted in surprise, the repetitive tune immediately recognizable, even though there was nothing confident about the way you played. “How did you know?”

“I didn’t. It was just a guess.” He said your name, waiting until you met his eyes to speak again. “But it appears that I guessed correctly.” He was still holding the camera, angling it back down so that it was focused on the instrument. “Play it again.” With a nod, you repositioned your hands and took a deep breath, tilting your head to watch as you played.

It was only three notes, but it repeated - the sound clearer each time that you strummed through them, and you heard Ezra humming along after only a few seconds. This is unbelievable. He let it go for a little while and then cleared his throat, one finger tapping the screen before he set his phone down. “I didn’t realize that the beginning of the song was just -”

“Most of my music isn’t difficult to play.” He sighed as you stopped playing, stretching your fingers out before you flexed them. “Much of my focus is on the lyrics.” You didn’t disagree, and when you looked up, Ezra was staring at you again. “How does it feel to know that you and I are the only ones that have ever played that song on that guitar?”

“What?” Your eyes widened. “Ezra, what -”

“Adrift might be… no, I think it is the best thing I’ve ever written, beginning to end. It was written on that guitar, and that’s why I always switch to it when I play. No one else touches that instrument, so now it’s just … just the two of us that have played on it.”

You almost didn’t believe him, but Ezra had no reason to lie to you - especially about a song like the one he’d just had you play - or the guitar you played it on. “I’m honored. I just wish that I could have done better, because -”

“You were fine.” Ezra reached out, running his fingertips over the strings. “More than fine. I wasn’t planning on singing that tonight, but I am amenable to it if you want me to.”

“I’d like that. I’d like it a lot, actually.” You nodded, clearing your throat. “Let me put this back, but … yes. I’d like to hear that one.” Standing, you headed over to the guitar rack and carefully replaced the instrument before turning to look back at Ezra, the man scrolling through things on the computer. “But only if you tell me a little bit more about -”

You were interrupted when the room went totally dark, both of your feet freezing in place. What the hell? “Fuck!” You heard a thunk and then a hiss of pain, Ezra’s cry loud in the sudden blackness. “Are you alright? Don’t move, let me get my phone and -” You heard fumbling and then his face was partially illuminated by the flashlight, his lips set into a thin grimace. “You might as well stay there, by the door. If the power’s out, there’s no reason to be in here.”

“It’s a good thing you had your phone. Mine’s in my bag, and -”

You were interrupted again by the door flying open, the beam from a much larger flashlight shining inward. “Hey, the power’s out. All of the buildings around us are dark, and I didn’t know if you had…” Cee trailed off, sighing. “A light.” She tilted the beam up so that it shined beneath her chin - and then she smiled widely. “Which you do, but mine’s better, so come on. We’ll get to the living room without anyone getting hurt.”

Stepping past her and into the hallway, you waited for Ezra to follow, the man making his way across the small space before he stood next to you. “Birdie, did you report the outage? I’m sure it’s the storm, but you never know.”

“Not yet. I wanted to get the two of you before I did anything. There’s another flashlight in the kitchen, so once we get that I’ll look and see if anything’s been updated, and…” She continued to talk as you went down the hall, but all you were focused on was the way Ezra’s hand felt as it pressed against your back, the man close behind you.

“Thank you, Cee.” You settled onto the edge of the couch as she and Ezra rummaged through a drawer in the kitchen, a second beam joining the first moments later. “Your place gets dark, and the city being dark too is…strange.”

You eyed the balcony door, sighing at the sight of mostly unilluminated buildings across and around Ezra’s - the blackness punctuated only by dim beams from the phones and flashlights of other residents in their homes. “It’s weird to see, right?” She grinned as she and Ezra reentered the room, taking seats - her on the chair and Ezra beside you. “This doesn’t happen often, but they’re usually pretty good about getting it back up and running pretty fast, so…” She shrugged. “Hopefully it’s not too long until we’ve got power again.”

The three of you sat in silence while she took her phone out, typing furiously for a few seconds. Ezra’s presence next to you was comforting, the man’s shoulder brushing against yours, but he stiffened when he heard Cee’s groan. “What’s wrong?”

“They’ve updated it to dispatching a crew, but there are like …” She shook her head, sighing. “A hundred of those little symbols for outages on here.” Cee glanced up, meeting your eyes. “The wind really picked up while you guys were in there, so -”

“I should go, then.” You stood, stretching. “Get home before -”

“The elevator’s out.” Ezra reached for you, his fingers running over your wrist at Cee’s words. “Do you plan on walking down all those flights of stairs?” I didn’t even think of that.

“I guess so.” Curling your fingers toward your palms, you glanced at the door. “There’s no other option, right?”

“You can stay here.” Cee leaned toward you, one eyebrow raised. “We don’t have an extra bedroom, but the couch is really comfortable. And since tomorrow’s Saturday, you don’t have to worry about work in the morning.” She turned her head to look at Ezra, and so did you. I don’t know what to say.

“Even with the emergency lights, the stairway is probably … treacherous.” He frowned, watching you. “Cee is right. You can stay here if you want. There’s plenty of space.” He arched a brow, reaching up to scratch his head. “But I can take the couch, and you can have my bed, so -”

Cee jumped up, clapping her hands together. “Alright, so it’s settled. You two can figure out where you’re sleeping, I’m going to go back into my room and hope that my headphones are charged long enough to last until the power comes back.” Cee waved at you and then darted down the hallway, leaving you and Ezra alone.

“She’s not very subtle, is she.” He spoke first, groaning. “Kevva help her I know she means well, but -”

“I’m sure you weren’t much better as a teenager, Ezra. I know I wasn’t.” He laughed, leaning back and stretching his arm over the couch. “But out here is fine. I just need a blanket and a real pillow.” He stayed quiet, eyes on you, and then Ezra’s smile grew, the man leaning forward. “What’s that look for?”

“Can I show you something?”

—

He hadn’t planned on showing you how to play the guitar, but once he’d seen it in your hands, he hadn’t been able to stop himself. You choosing that instrument had taken him by surprise, but Ezra was nothing if not adaptable - and that translated into him giving the impromptu lesson.

You were predictably hesitant, but by the time you figured out what song he was teaching you, Ezra could tell that you were more relaxed. He’d guessed on the song, but was thrilled to be right, because he hadn’t been lying when he told you that it as his favorite, too. And unlike Karoclan, he knew that there was nothing that would ever make him want to stop playing it live - which is why it had been a staple in every set despite never being a single.

The genuine joy in your eyes was impossible to miss, and when he’d pulled his phone out to record, Ezra made sure to get your face in the frame, too, evidence of the smile that tugged at the corners of your lips permanently preserved in the video.

He’d needed a few seconds to collect his thoughts, and had just begun to decide how to approach singing the song for you when the lights went out. The sudden darkness of the room startled him, Ezra’s entire body jerking and his elbow making contact with the edge of the desk. It hurt, but he was more frustrated than anything else.

No electricity meant no more singing in the studio. It meant no ability to entice you to stay longer so that you could put on a movie or the TV. It meant that the night would end in a much different way than he imagined - but unlike Cee, he hadn’t even thought about the elevator being out of commission at first.

It didn’t surprise him that the girl invited you to spend the night, because if Ezra was adaptable, Cee was cunning, though not in an entirely devious manner. She wanted to the two of you to spend more time together, and wasn’t shy about making it happen. And she knows I wouldn’t let anyone sleep on the couch while I went into my bed.

He took a deep breath and held it as the two of you walked back down the hallway, Ezra’s grip on the flashlight illuminating the floor in front of you. “I wasn’t planning on bringing you in here.” He turned his upper body toward you, holding out the light and waiting for you to take it. “But this way we’ll still have some privacy to keep talking.” Reaching out, he closed his fingers around the doorknob. “The final room on the tour.”

You laughed quietly, but Ezra heard the disbelief in the sound as he pushed the door open, taking the first step into his bedroom. “I’m not taking the bed while you sleep on the couch, Ezra. So don’t even try to -”

“Are you tired?” He spun to face you, gesturing with his palm facing upward. “I’m not. It’s early. That’s what I wanted to show you.” You followed again when he stepped through the room, bypassing his unmade bed and walking to the wall of windows. “The balcony wraps around the corner of the building, and it’s one of the reasons that I wanted this apartment.”

“It does? I had no idea.” He nodded, flipping the light switch and pulling the sliding door open. That did nothing, but it’s habit. “It’s still raining, though. We -”

“This half of it is covered.” He looked back over his shoulder, grinning. “We can sit outside and stay dry. Opening the windows wont be a good idea tonight because of the rain and wind, but the other door?” He hummed, pushing the second door open. “It’s far enough away that a little rain getting in won’t be a problem.”

He was winging it - Ezra’s plan unfolding by the second, but when you stepped next to him, pointing the light at the open door, he knew that you were more than happy to go along with it. A relief. This could have been very … different. “Do you sit out here a lot?” Spinning slowly in the enclosed space, you eyed the rain-streaked glass before facing him. “I would. It’s too dark to see anything now, but I bet this view is incredible.”

“It is.” He raised his hand, carefully caressing the end of his amputated arm. “And I do. I used to sit out here and play acoustic guitar. Sometimes I’d sit out there, but … yes. Since I came home, this is where …” Ezra sniffed. You might as well tell her. “This is where I go to be alone with all of my thoughts.”

“Don’t let me take that from you, Ezra.” You reached out, the hand not holding the flashlight settling against the back of his arm. “You already let me play a guitar that was just yours tonight, I don’t want to intrude on your -”

“You aren’t intruding.” He gestured to the couch that was tucked into the corner of the enclosed space. “Let’s sit.”

You sunk down first, setting the flashlight onto the table next to the seat and pointing it upward. There was plenty of space left for him, and as he eased down next to you, Ezra took another breath. What happens next? “This will keep your room from getting too warm tonight.” You pointed at the door, chin jerking in that direction, too. “Do all these windows open?”

“They do. I’ve had to keep them closed more often recently, though.” Softly, you asked him why, and when he answered, the man met your gaze, grinning. “Whoever my downstairs neighbor is has been … enthusiastic with her nighttime activities for the last few months.” He paused, winking. “I’ve heard them on more than one occasion, and as someone that is not currently in the position to experience the same, it’s been easier and less discouraging to keep things closed.”

“Hmm. So even a fancy penthouse apartment isn’t enough to escape the sounds of neighbors going at it.” You laughed, nudging him with your elbow. “That’s one great thing about living in a house. I hear the people next door sometimes when they’re outside, but never anything like sex.”

“You make a good point.” Ezra sighed. “But the storm will keep things quiet tonight, I think.” Both of you went silent, watching as the raindrops smacked against and then ran down the glass of the enclosure, and without second guessing it, Ezra’s hand found yours, your fingers twining together. “I’m sorry that I didn’t get to sing Adrift tonight. I was looking forward to it.”

“I am too.” Shifting in your seat, you changed positions - and then laid your head down on his shoulder. “That one’s been my favorite since the first time I heard it. I know there’s probably some really deep meaning to it that isn’t what it sounds like it’s about at surface level, but it … it means a lot to me.”

“It means a lot to me, too.” Angling his head so that he could rest it against the crown of yours, he closed his eyes, smiling. “And no, that song is about exactly what it sounds like. I wrote it when I didn’t know what was going to happen with my life or my career. I had hope it would go the way I wanted it to, but everything was … uncertain.”

“It’s sad without being depressing.” Squeezing his hand, you paused. “I hope that you’ll play it at the benefit.”

“For you?” He laughed, inhaling the scent of your hair. “Of course I will.” The rain beat down, far away peals of thunder and the sound of the wind filling his ears. He was content in a way that was rare for him, and as the two of you sat together on the couch, Ezra’s eyes shot open. Not just out here.

The comfort with you extended beyond the studio. It extended beyond conversation. She walked into my room and I didn’t even flinch, even though … He hadn’t had a woman in his bedroom since before the tour started. And then, it had been with purpose, Ezra leading her down the hallway and straight to the bed, his goal clear. With you, he hadn’t even considered the bed as a stop, and neither had you.

But it’s not because I don’t want to, it’s … He cleared his throat, beginning to swipe his finger over the back of your hand. It’s because I want this to be more than that. “Even if the power comes back on tonight, you can stay if you want.”

“Thank you.” Carefully moving, you sat up - though you didn’t let go of his hand. “I really don’t want to walk down the stairs, and the idea of being in that elevator if it goes back off is … scary. An enclosed space in the dark? That sounds like the worst possible thing that could happen.” Raising the hand that wasn’t holding his, you gestured vaguely toward the room around you. “I can even sleep out here, the rain hitting the windows is … soothing.”

“My bed’s big enough for both of us.” He said your name, hoping that he could keep his voice steady. “Especially if all we’re doing is sleeping.” It had the intended effect and only moments later, the two of you were laughing together, Ezra letting go of your hand and then putting his arm around your shoulders to draw you closer.

“I don’t know, Ezra. Are you sure you’re going to be able to resist the urge to -”

“No.” You inhaled, and even in the dim lighting, Ezra watched your eyes widen. “But I’ll do my best.”

“You don’t have to.” You spoke slowly, and though your voice was quiet, Ezra heard the vulnerability in it. “I know you’re not sure what would happen if we were to …” You bit your lip, blinking. “But even if we had to stop, or you wanted to stop, I wouldn’t … it wouldn’t change anything.”

“It would.” He stood, pulling away from you. “Maybe not for you, but for me. I’m not … I’ve never been so unsure of myself when it comes to …” Tilting his head back, he looked at the ceiling. Unconsciously, his hand lifted and came to rest on his abdomen, the skin beneath the material of his shirt stinging with the same sort of pain he’d felt in the weeks following the accident. “It isn’t just my arm.”

“What?” You leaned forward, both hands resting in your lap. “Ezra, what do you mean?” It was a risk - telling you things that almost no one else knew about what had happened during the accident and exposing himself in such an intimate way. But if this is going to go anywhere, she needs to know before she sees it for herself.

“Come here.” You stood, too, taking the few steps necessary to reach him. Even though he saw confusion on your face, there was no hesitation when you reached for his hand, once again twining your fingers together. “What I’m going to tell you is … most of it was never made public. The only people that know are the doctors, police, Luke’s family and Cee.”

“You don’t need to tell me. Ezra, that’s… we don’t know each other well, and I don’t want you to say anything that you might regret later. This sounds like -” He stopped you with a single shake of his head, and even though he could feel his heart hammering against his ribs, Ezra’s voice was steady when he spoke. It needs to be.

“I don’t need to. I want to. We wouldn’t be having this conversation if I didn’t want to.” He watched you consider his words for a few seconds - and in those moments, Ezra waited, hoping that the simple explanation was enough. There was another flash of lightning, the low rumble of thunder following a few seconds later … and then you nodded, closing your eyes.

“Do you want to sit back down?” Frowning, you gestured toward the couch. “Do you want me to sit? Or -”

“Turn around.” He let go of your hand, making a circling motion with one finger. “We can stay here, but it might be easier if …” Wordlessly, you did as he asked, straightening your shoulders. Are you really going to do this? Ezra stared at your back, fingers curling into a loose fist, and then he looked down, glancing at the end of his right arm before his eyes slid over and down further. They landed on his stomach, his fingertips grazing the thin cotton of his shirt. I’d rather tell her now than have it take her by surprise.

He stepped forward, closing the distance between you - and when he slipped his arm around your waist, urging you to lean back and against him, you did. You didn’t speak, but you settled your hand over his, humming. Gathering his thoughts, Ezra squeezed his eyes shut and dropped his head down, kissing the top of your shoulder. Here goes everything.

“The loss of my arm is the injury that everyone can see, but it’s not the one that almost killed me.”

—

The move from the living room to Ezra’s room - and then his balcony - was much more natural than you thought it would be. He’d stumbled slightly when making the joke about the house tour, but when he hadn’t even paused near or mentioned the bed while you passed it, things got a little less tense.

In any other situation, it would have been easy to assume that he’d taken you to his private space for a reason, but with Ezra, you hadn’t worried. And when the two of you settled onto the couch, side by side and connected via the press of your palms together and your head on his shoulder, it was even clearer to you that while he wanted you close, he wasn’t leading you anywhere.

But the closer you got to him - and the longer you stayed that way, the harder it became to pretend that you weren’t attracted to him in just about every way possible. Especially when he offers his bed while he’s in it. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to sleep next to him - it was that you wanted it and more badly. Since he’d been clear about not being ready to take that step, though, you didn’t want to push. The joke about keeping his distance had slipped before you could stop it, and to your surprise, he’d answered honestly - and with a confirmation that you hadn’t fully considered..

That didn’t mean that you were prepared for him to open up to you, or that you’d expected him to tell you something significant about the accident. Because I’m nobody to him. I’m just a woman that’s seen him perform a few times and has kissed him, and … The explanation sounded ridiculous to you, no matter how you tried to spin it, and Ezra’s reaction drove that point home.

So by the time you were standing in front of the window and looking outward, his body pressed against you from behind, you were entirely off balance and unsure of what came next - or how you were supposed to respond.

“The loss of my arm is the injury that everyone can see, but it’s not the one that almost killed me.”

It was a simple statement despite being loaded, and after it hung in the air for long moments, he continued.

“We kept the crew small on the tour to save on costs and because a lot of people weren’t necessary. It was the three of us, Cee, one tech and our manager. The manager and our tech always drove together, and then the four of us took the Rock Jumper between shows. We’d take turns driving - usually Damon and Luke and me and Cee, just because that’s what we were used to.” He took a deep breath, his chest expanding. “We got a late start that night out of the last city because … because I was with someone in the dressing room.”

“Oh.” You stiffened for a few seconds and then relaxed, shrugging. “To be honest, I’m surprised that they didn’t post about it online.” He scoffed, his arm tightening.

“I am too. But he was … very discreet. Still is. He sent a message through my profile a few days after the accident sending his well wishes, but that’s the only time he reached out.” Ezra took a deep breath while you contemplated his words - and their meaning. “I meant it when I said that I was more careful about the people I choose to spend time with these days.”

He began to rock back and forth, the motion subtle but steady. You moved with him, chewing on the inside of your cheek as you watched the rain run down the other side of the glass. “I’m sorry I assumed the worst. I -”

“No. It makes sense after what I told you the other night. But that was not the case with him.” He hummed, chest expanding with another deep breath - and then Ezra continued. “Damon volunteered to drive, and so Cee and I settled into the second row of seats. She had her headphones on and fell asleep quickly, like she usually did. Damon and Luke were talking in the front, and I began to doze after a few miles, too.”

The possibility of Ezra recounting the actual accident hadn’t even registered to you when he started talking, but you forced yourself to remain still, hoping that your measured reaction would encourage him to keep speaking. This has to be painful for him, but he’s telling me, so…

“Cee and I …” He trailed off and you felt his head shake slightly, his chin dragging against the top of your shoulder. “In some ways I’ve always treated her more like a daughter than a family friend, and that night was no different. She was sleeping with her head against my shoulder, and I put my arm around her before I fell asleep - to keep her upright since neither of us were wearing seatbelts.”

You could imagine it clearly - the dimly lit interior of the large van, Ezra and Cee in the back seat sleeping next to each other, both of their faces relaxed as they caught up on rest. It was a comforting image, and when you closed your eyes and let yourself sink into the description, you smiled. I’m glad they had each other.

“I woke up to the sound of Luke yelling Damon’s name, and the van swerving. I… all I could think to do was pull her closer, to keep her in my arms, and then …” He shivered. “And then everything went sideways. The van swerved again, and we began to roll, but through it all, I didn’t let go of her. You can’t possibly imagine the sound that the side of the van made against the pavement, or the way we bounced inside while it moved.”

Oh, Ezra. Your hand tightened over his, but you stayed quiet, no longer chewing on your lip and instead biting down to keep from reacting verbally.

“When it flipped again, all I remember is seeing the sky - the stars above, bright in a sea of black. I know now that that was because the door was ripped off, but at the time … I thought it was the end for me. I could still feel Cee in my arms, and she was rigid, clinging to me in a way that I will never forget. I thought …” He trailed off, turning his head so that he could speak quietly, directly into your ear. “I thought that even if I didn’t make it, as long as she did, then it would be worthwhile.”

“Ezra.” The tears began to leak from your eyes, and even though he chuckled at the sound, you could feel the dampness on his cheeks, too, the man nuzzling against you.

“We flipped again, and then all I felt was pain - everywhere. My head, my arm, my belly, but before I lost consciousness, I realized that Cee was still with me. When I woke up, she was there, above me. I saw her face and heard her speak, and she tells me that I promised her I wouldn’t die, but…” There was a pause, and you knew what was coming before he even said it. “But I thought that she would be the last thing I saw.”

“That sounds terrifying, Ezra.” He agreed, the man’s fingers curling and then uncurling beneath yours, the edges of his nails dragging over your covered stomach. “But you saved her.”

“I did.” He let out a sigh, nodding. “I didn’t wake up again for two and a half days, and by that time, my arm was gone. I woke to the sight of Cee sleeping on an armchair in my hospital room, and fifteen seconds after regaining consciousness, I ruined everything by screaming loud enough to alert the nurses at the end of the hall.”

“Singer’s lungs, right?” He laughed, that one sounding slightly less anxious, but when Ezra spoke again, there was no humor in the sound of his voice.

“They took my arm because when Cee and I were ejected through the missing door, not only did we both land on it, our trajectory … dragged our weight on top of it. I protected her, and she only had a few scrapes and bruises, but my arm was …” He swore, going quiet again. “My primary weapon, gone, and there was nothing I could do about it.”

You hadn’t known so many details, but it wasn’t difficult to piece together the parts of what had happened in the accident based on what had been released. Amputations are usually relatively straightforward, though. Especially if they’re done in a hospital, and …

“After those days, my arm was already beginning to heal. It felt downright creamy compared to my other injuries.” Your hand tightened against his, lips pressed together - and you waited. “While the van was rolling, everything inside was … loose. Most of our equipment was in the trailer, which thankfully detached, but there was …” Ezra shrugged. “One of Damon’s drumsticks shattered in the crash, and by the virtue of bad luck, I landed right on top of it. Not only did they have to remove my arm, I’m told that they spent hours using surgical equipment to extract wood fragments from that wound site in my abdomen.” He stopped, and then a beat later, continued. “They missed one, barely bigger than a splinter. It became infected, despite the antibiotics I was already taking for my arm, and they didn’t realize it right away, because the bandage didn’t need to be changed until much later.”

Eyes widening in horror, you lifted your free hand, covering your mouth to keep a sob from escaping. An infection? From a drumstick? Kevva help me, that … You didn’t know what to say, because there was nothing to say - and the fact that the entire accident had happened because Damon was impaired made it even worse.

“Somehow, it moved, burying itself in the muscle so that it could not be seen on scans, and by the time they found and removed it, they’d… they did a great deal of damage trying to scrape the blackness away. And that is much slower to heal than my arm. It’s the reason it took me so long to return to singing, and why I have been hesitant to become physically involved with you. Not only is there a mangled mass of scar tissue remaining, but I am weak. When the muscle pulls, it … at times, it becomes uncomfortable, and I can’t always hide that.”

He stopped, urging you to turn and face him, and when you did, you met his eyes, the man’s shining with emotion. “Thank you for telling me.” You spoke quietly, nodding as you settled a hand against his side. “I’m glad they were able to save you, Ezra. Whatever it took, I’m so glad that you’re still here for Cee.”

“I am too.” He dragged his tongue over his lower lip, nodding. “I wasn’t at the time. But now … now I know that it’s what was meant to happen.”

You leaned back so that you were pressed against the window, eyes locked with Ezra’s, and for long moments, the two of you stared at each other. There was a question on the tip of your tongue, words that you wanted to say, but couldn’t bring yourself to speak, even though it seemed that he’d opened the door for you to do so. There’s no reason for him to tell me this unless he assumes that I’d see his stomach at some point. And the only reason I’d see that is if we’re …

“Why me, Ezra?” You hated how small your voice sounded, barely audible over the rain and wind - but the slight widening of his eyes told you that he’d heard, the man’s hand lifting so that he could trace the curve of your cheek with one knuckle. “Why n-”

“Because I trust you.” He swallowed, taking a half step back. “Because I want …” Ezra’s eyes closed for long moments, and when he opened them, they were clear and focused, trained on your face. “Because telling you means that if I show you, it won’t be as much of a shock, and with the lights being out, this is …” Nodding he tilted his chin down. “The best opportunity.”

“Ok.” There was a momentary pause before you spoke, but your agreement was certain, your fingers closing around a handful of his shirt. “I want to know you, Ezra. All of you. And if this is where we start, then … it works for me.”

You had no idea what that meant, but were willing to follow Ezra’s lead, and hoped that he was more prepared than you were. “I… really?” He frowned, the disbelief on his features evident. “It’s that simple? You’d want to know a broken man like me?”

“You aren’t broken.” Shaking your head back and forth, you shrugged. “You got hurt. You’re alive, and you saved Cee, and that’s all that matters.” Slowly, you reached for his right shoulder, setting your hand down on it and squeezing before you moved your grip to his bicep, hoping that it wasn’t moving too quickly for the man. “I’ll follow your lead, Ezra. As slow as you need to go, and if you decide that you don’t want this or me, or -”

“I’d like you to see.” Dropping his hand between you, he pressed his palm to his belly. “Because I meant it when I said that I want you to spend the night with me.” Ezra closed his eyes. “In my bed.”

“But you…” Your heart rate sped up, the implication of what he was saying - and how things could escalate in the near future - terrifying but somehow comforting at the same time. Because it means that this whole time, he’s been feeling the same things that I have. “Here? Or -” You pointed with your free hand, gesturing to the doorway that led into his bedroom. “Or in there?”

“Here, I think.” He frowned, eyes flicking down and then back up. “Definitely here.” You could tell he was nervous, despite the fact that he was sure - and so with one final deep inhale, you took a step closer to Ezra, the hand not on his arm flat against his chest, the thump of his heart steady against your palm. Make him comfortable. This is his decision, and he needs to call the shots.

“Take the lead, Ezra. Tell me what you want from me.”

—

It felt good to tell you the truth.

The longer Ezra spoke, and the more he recalled, the better he felt about the situation. It wasn’t betraying Cee by telling you unknown things about Damon, or even admitting that there was the possibility that Damon had made his choice based on Ezra and Inumon’s relationship. That will come later. But it was telling you what to prepare for. It was giving you a warning that you would see and feel scars that weren’t immediately apparent, that there was a chance he’d be in too much pain to finish anything that you started.

It was giving you a chance to know more and to back away, if you chose to. But you hadn’t moved. And your reactions to his words - your intake of breath, the way you stiffened in his arms but then moved closer, as though you were offering the only comfort you could while you stood back to front with him, the shaky way you repeated his name when he paused in the retelling of the story … they were all good signs. Very good signs.

So was you agreeing to follow his lead, even though he had no idea what that meant.

As the two of you faced each other, Ezra flashed back to the shower, and the way thoughts of you had occupied his mind while he touched himself. He wondered briefly if you’d ever done the same in the comfort of your bed or shower, if you’d let your mind go there with him, even for brief moments.

And if you had, he wondered what you’d imagined - him as he was after the accident or before - fueled by the pictures and videos you’d personally taken or that you’d found online, or with the images of him as you’d gotten to know him in person.

“Ezra?” Your quiet voice interrupted his thoughts, the man shaking his head to clear it before he hummed in acknowledgement. “If you need me to stop touching you, please tell me.” That was the last thing he wanted, and when he said as much, you nodded. “OK. Then just tell me … what you want.”

Anxiety flared in his chest, everything going tight before he cleared his throat. It’s going to be fine. “Put your hand over mine.” You didn’t let go of his arm, and instead slowly dragged the other hand down the center of his chest until it settled over the back of his. “You won’t hurt me by touching me. A lot of the pain is muscle pain, and the other pain is … in my head. I -”

“That doesn’t mean it’s not real.” You leaned in, pressing your lips to his stubbled cheek. “And if I do hurt you, I need to know, because it’s the last thing I want.” Closing his eyes, Ezra nodded, steadying himself.

“I’m going to move my hand.” It was more for himself than for you, but you nodded, eyes locked with his. “Ok. Alright. Ok, here we…” Haltingly, he slipped his fingers out from under yours, allowing you to touch his stomach. The pressure of your hand was a welcome difference from what he was used to, and even though it scared him, he took a small breath, readying himself to speak. “Can you -”

“I feel it.” You didn’t look away, but even with only a little light, he saw the emotion in your eyes, surprise and concern along with a subtle widening of them. “It’s big, Ezra. I can understand how painful it must have been.”

“No, I don’t think you can.” He didn’t mean it to be unkind, but it was the truth - because even with the pain of losing his arm, of having multiple broken bones and a concussion, of all of the injuries he’d experienced throughout his life, nothing had prepared him for the way the stomach injury felt. “And I hope you never do.”

You pressed your lips together, wincing. Ezra took the opportunity to lift his sleeve-wrapped residual limb upward, reaching across his body and grasping the hem of his t-shirt. Closing your eyes briefly, you nodded, retracting your hand enough so that he could pull the material from his body before dropping it to the ground. It was the first time he’d been shirtless in the presence of anyone that wasn’t Cee or his medical team since the accident, and Ezra’s entire body shook at the prospect of being so vulnerable.

“I’m going to touch you now.” You spoke quietly, waiting until he nodded to say anything else. “I won’t look. Just … I’ll just touch.”

He expected you to replace your hand over the wound site, but instead, you moved your palm to his side, hand sliding up and down slowly over the bare skin of his ribs. Ezra nearly moaned at the contact, his eyes snapping shut before he forced them open again, his hand moving to settle on your hip. “That feels incredible. It’s been… months. It’s been…” He groaned, shaking his head back and forth. “Kevva, your skin is…”

He caught your smile, even though it was brief, and when your hand moved inward, closing the distance to the site of the scarring, Ezra saw another nod, your free hand rising to cradle his cheek. He made no effort to stop himself from leaning into it, and when your other hand came to rest against his belly, your eyes were locked with his, the gentle look still present within them. “Is this alright?”

“Yes.” The pressure of your hand increased, followed shortly after by a careful stroke of your fingertips against his cheek - and then you nodded.

“Come here, Ezra.” He watched your lips move more than he heard you speak, the sound of the rain and wind still raging behind the two of you. But Ezra didn’t hesitate, lowering his mouth to meet yours and giving you what you were asking for.

It was a distraction technique, and he knew it - the kiss meant to soothe him, even as your touch shifted so that you could press your palm firmly against his skin, the fingers of your other hand sliding through the hair at the back of his neck and tugging. His hand was at your waist, clutching at the material of your shirt, but it was Ezra that deepened the kiss, parting his lips to lick at your lower one before easing his tongue between them, meeting yours.

You groaned, pulling harder on his hair, and when he pulled you closer, you let him. The night wasn’t going how he’d thought it would - instead, it was better, your reaction to what he’d told you and what he was offering more than he’d expected. You broke the kiss first, backing off and taking a long breath, your hands still in place. “Has anyone ever told you that he way you kiss is …” Biting down on your lower lip, you wrinkled your nose. “It’s unbelievable, Ezra. I never want to stop, and I’ve only done it a few times.”

That got a genuine smile out of him, much of his apprehension melting away as you ran the edges of your nails against his scalp. “You’re welcome to do it more.”

“Yeah?” He nodded, opening his mouth to say something else - and then you were bathed in light, a quiet yelp leaving your lips as you turned your attention to the overhead bulbs. Of course. “Shit. I guess the lights are back.” When you looked back at him, he caught the way your gaze dropped to his chest before it rose again, following the line of his neck until you were looking at each other. “I’m impressed, because the storm seems…” You looked past him at the windows, dragging one corner of your lower lip between your teeth. “It’s still coming down out there.”

“You can still stay.” He spoke quietly, stepping backwards and urging you to follow him. “It might go out again, and I wouldn’t want you to risk that elevator until we know for sure it’s going to stay on.”

It was a gamble, and he knew it. There was no real reason for you to spend the night, but he wanted you to - wanted to lead you back into the comfort of his bedroom and lay down next to you, wanted to talk to you until both of you fell asleep, wanted to wake up to the sight of your cheek pressed to his pillow. And more. And so much more, but I still don’t …

“If you want me to stay, I will.” Narrowing your eyes in contemplation, you glanced over at where he’d tossed his shirt. “If you need to get dressed, I’ll get your shirt, and look away, so -”

You were yet again giving him an option to end the show and tell session, but he didn’t want to take it. Not when I’ve come this far. “I want to show you.” He paused. “If you want to see.”

“Ezra, I would have been perfectly fine if you told me that you weren’t ready to show me anything aside from what I can see when you’re dressed.” Your smile grew, and so did the confidence in your voice. “I told you that this was on you to tell me what you’re comfortable with, and I meant it. I realize that demanding that you kiss me goes against that, but -”

“That was nowhere near a demand, and you know it.” He shifted on his feet, tilting his chin up. “But I look forward to hearing a real one from you sometime soon.” That got the desired reaction, your eyes catching the light as they widened - and then Ezra surprised himself and winked at you, letting go of you to step back. “They tell me that with time, it won’t look as fresh. That the scars might smooth out and fade. I’ll believe it when I see it, but …”

You dropped your gaze as he spoke, Ezra watching with tension thrumming through his veins again as your eye line followed a path down his chest and toward his abdomen. She’s going to recoil. She’s going to be disgusted. She’s going to - “Did the one on your cheek do the same?” He watched as you wet your lips, the tips of your fingers skating down and over his bare skin, coming to rest just to the right of the wound. “Was that one worse when it was healing than it is now?”

Glancing back up, he saw only concern in your expression - no fear or disgust, no revulsion, no sign of you getting ready to bolt away from the sight of his mangled skin. “What? The one…” He frowned. “No. It’s been …” You reached up, tracing over the curved scar on his cheek. “That one hasn’t changed much since it happened.”

“Is that story real?” Arching a brow, you smiled. “Getting hit with a bottle as a teenager?”

“It is not. But it sounded much better than telling everyone that a tree branch snapped back and nearly took my eye when I was twelve.” You laughed at that, closing your eyes as you stepped back, covering your face with both hands. “You’re laughing at me. You have no idea how embarrassing it was to have to go to the hospital because of -”

You surprised him by lifting the bottom hem of your shirt and pointing to your side. What is she … He leaned closer, humming when he saw the marks on your body - two circular scars with a thin line between them. “I was nine, and racing my neighbor on our bikes. I ran over a piece of metal, and the tire popped.” He reached out as you spoke, the man approaching your skin cautiously without straightening up. “I went fl… oh.” You stopped when he made contact, Ezra unable to conceal his smile at the way you shivered at his touch, even though you quickly recovered. “I went flying and landed on one of those little garden divider fences.”

“Did you go to the hospital?” He swiped a thumb over your skin before he stood back up, arm going back to his side. “It looks like it was deep.”

“I did. It was metal, and it hurt like a son of a Jaccola. But after, I tried to come up with a better story, because telling people I got impaled on a six inch tall fence just … it didn’t make me feel cool. So I know all about embarrassing injures and trying to make them sound more interesting.” You paused and then closed the distance between you again, eyes back on his abdomen. “I understand wanting to keep this secret, Ezra. It’s huge. And it looks painful, and I’m sure that knowing it’s there is a constant reminder of how much everything’s changed for you.You don’t want sympathy, and I get it.” Reaching up, you gently touched the sleeve on his arm with your other hand, taking and releasing a deep breath. “But you survived something that most people wouldn’t have. You’re right. I don’t know what it feels like to be in your position, and I hope that I never do.”

By the time you were done speaking, you were touching both new injuries - one hand on his arm, the fingers of the other resting against his belly. Your honesty shocked him, Ezra freezing in place as his fingers curled at his side. “I hope no one does.” You nodded slowly, waiting, and your next words were hesitant, even though they were relevant.

“Can you feel anything?” Looking up, your frown deepened. “I don’t mean pain, I mean…”

“Can I feel you touching me?” You gave him a quick nod, the uncertainty on your face becoming more apparent. “I feel pressure. The area around that one,” he continued, gesturing to his stomach. “It’s very tender. But the scarring itself, no. It’s mostly numb. My arm … there are days when I feel like I still have the whole thing. There are times when it just hurts, and there are others when it’s just nothing.” He hung his head and then brought it back up, deciding to be completely honest with you. “I look forward to those days, because everything else is a constant reminder of what I lost.”

Without warning, you pulled your hands away and then wrapped your arms around his neck, hugging him tightly. It took him by surprise, but Ezra hugged you back, his bare chest pressed to yours, fingers splayed wide over the center of your back. “You didn’t lose Cee.” You spoke directly into his ear. “You didn’t lose your life.” Backing off enough so that you could look at him, you forced a smile, though he saw the tears welling in your eyes again. “And you didn’t lose that big, beautiful mind or your personality, Ezra. You have every right to mourn the things that you’re going through, and what’s changed for you, but you can’t forget the good parts while you do.”

He didn’t know what to say - your sentiments were nothing that Cee and the medical team hadn’t said before, but seeing and hearing you repeat them while standing in front of him and seeing him at his most vulnerable hit differently. She’s not being paid to say this. She’s not saying it out of guilt. She means it.

“I still don’t understand, though.” You were blinking back unshed tears, voice thin. “You didn’t need to show me any of this. Even if things had gotten physical, you didn’t need to … we could have done just about everything with you wearing your shirt, so there was no… You said you wanted me to know what to expect. But this is a lot, Ezra, and I just want to understand, I -”

Your words were interrupted when the room was plunged into darkness again, both of you looking up and then out the windows as you watched the city block slowly blink out. “Well, that’s not good.” You chuckled from next to him, lifting a hand to rub at the space between your brows. “Guess you’re staying after all.”

The darkness gave him more time to collect his thoughts, and Ezra was thankful for that. But he was even more thankful for the way you squeezed his hand before you stepped all the way up to the window, wrapping your arms around yourself. “I guess so.” You watched the rain and Ezra watched you, the man’s eyes on the set of your shoulders and your silhouette against the rain-streaked window glass. Unconsciously, he dragged his fingers over the scar on his belly, lower lip pushed out into a pout. Why you? Why after all this time?

He wondered what you were thinking, and if you’d ask again - but then decided that he didn’t want you to ask again. I want to tell her. “I didn’t need to tell you, you’re right about that.” He moved to stand behind you again, mirroring the position that you’d been in when he’d started to explain what happened the night of the accident. Instead of sliding a hand around your waist, he wound his arm around the front of your chest, arm crossing over your collar and his fingers closing around your shoulder. You leaned into him, tipping your head back to rest it against his shoulder, and then reached up, gripping his wrist loosely. “Like I said before, I wanted to tell you.”

Cee’s words to him echoed in his mind; the need to tell you and make you believe that you weren’t just another person that he wanted in his life for a short time, that what he felt with you wasn’t purely physical - that you were different on every level. But for once in his life, he was speechless, nothing else coming out when he opened his mouth. Damn.

“I won’t say a word about this to everyone. Not even Cee. I promise, Ezra, your story is safe with me.”

“I know.” He cleared his throat, sighing. “And the answer to why?” You waited silently for him to continue, your breathing steady. “I find myself opening up to you much more than I have to anyone in a long time. You’re … easy to talk to. Easy to trust. You took that video and kept it. You didn’t … throw yourself at me once you had an in with Cee, even though based on the state of your relationship, I almost wouldn’t have blamed you for doing so. You’ve never tried to push me further than I was willing to go, and you’re kind to both Cee and myself.” He tightened his grip on you and you matched the hold, your fingers curving around his wrist tightly enough that he was certain you could feel his pulse pounding against the pads. “Come to bed. Just to sleep, I give you my word.”

You turned slowly in his arms, sliding both of yours around his body so that you could press your hands against his bare back. “OK.” A grin slid across your face, your head moving up and down as you agreed. “Do you have something I can sleep in, though? If I’m going to have to wear this out of here tomorrow, I’d rather it not be a wrinkled mess.

He smiled in return, the man watching the way your eyes jumped over to where the dimple appeared on his cheek before you met his stare again, one brow raised in question. She’s going to love this. “Indeed I do.” Using his arm to gesture toward the open doorway leading into his bedroom, Ezra continued. “There are boxes of unsold merchandise from the shows we never got to perform … and in a fortuitous turn of events for you… you’re welcome to anything in them.”

Barely hiding your laugh, you broke away from him and reached for the flashlight on the table, picking it up before you replied. “Anything? I had my eye on a couple of the shirts at the merch table, but ended up buying the sweatshirt instead … my long con for a free shirt has finally paid off.”

He couldn’t help it - and joined your laughter as the two of you headed into the darkened bedroom, the beam of light leading the way.

—

tag list coming soon!

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something-tofightfor · 2 years

Text

Root Pearl: 5

Pairing: Ezra x female reader - musician AU

Word Count: 11,537

Rating: E. There’s no actual sex, but ... well, you’ll see.

Summary: Ezra invited you over to see his studio and hear him rehearse, so what’s the delay? You have no idea - especially after the way you left things the last time you saw him.

Blanket warnings: loss of a parent, character death, survivor’s guilt, learning to deal with the loss of a limb, infidelity (not Reader w/Ezra), blood, bodily injury, heavy angst.

Author’s note:

Four and a half months later, we’re back. This is just sort of an ‘ease in’ chapter to get me back into the frame of mind to write this story ... but I didn’t want to leave them alone for much longer.

Hopefully it won’t take me as long to get back to them for next time. Thank you for your patience!

Catch up on the first four parts of this story here!

Cee wasn’t home when you dropped him off, and Ezra was glad. Not because he didn’t want to see her, but because he needed time.

You’d helped him carry things up to his apartment - Ezra holding onto the case his prosthetic was in and you handling the leftovers. And he’d kissed you again after you’d put things into the refrigerator, the man following you to the front door and stopping you before you walked out.

His voice was low when he called out your name but so was yours in reply, the slight droop of your eyelids as you leaned in noticeable even in the dim light of his hallway. And he kissed you hard, the man groaning into your mouth as you fisted his shirt in both hands, Ezra fighting with himself not to let things go too far, or make you think that he expected anything from your presence.

Because he didn’t.

He didn’t expect anything from you at all, and that, to him, was the biggest surprise of them all. It was you that pulled away first, gasping for breath and tilting your head to stare at him for long seconds before you’d laughed and then tucked your chin against your chest, mumbling about how you needed to go.

He didn’t try to stop you or suggest anything different, and after one final kiss - a short one - and a promise that you’d hear from him soon, you were gone and Ezra was alone in the apartment, light spilling into the hallway from the fixture over the kitchen island counter.

He allowed himself a few minutes to stand still and think and then Ezra broke for the bathroom, shutting and locking the door behind him before he began to remove his clothes piece by piece. His arm was beginning to ache, and he knew that he’d need to take a pain pill or two before bed. But at the moment, that wasn’t important. Not even close.

What was important was the heat of the water and the feeling of the tile against his forehead when he leaned in to rest against it.

What was also important was the sight of you that flashed behind his eyelids when he closed them, the memory of the way you’d treated him that night still fresh in his mind.

And not just tonight, he thought as he let the water cascade over his back and shoulders. Since the first damn time I met her.

He soaped himself up as quickly as he could, taking care to avoid his abdomen and the end of his arm, and when it came time to wash his hair, he pulled his fingers through the sodden strands, his touch a little rougher than usual. The blunt edges of his nails dragged over his scalp, and when Ezra opened his eyes, tilting his head back to rinse the shampoo out, he focused on the ceiling.

At least it started that way, the man’s brown eyes honed in on the tiny ridges above him before his gaze moved down and he was staring at the tile on the wall - one of them slightly askew. That’s where his attention stayed as he reached for the conditioner bottle and spread it through his hair, massaging it in as best as he could with one hand.

Ezra groaned while pulling his hand away, the man hissing out a breath as he stepped back from the spray of the water. Taking a deep breath, he turned around to face the showerhead and closed his eyes, pressing the heel of his hand against his forehead.

“Shit.” The sound was almost obscured by the noise of the water, but he said it again as his fingertips curled against his scalp, Ezra’s nose wrinkling before he licked his lips.

He was used to many things when it came to women - and even men on occasion.

What Ezra wasn’t used to were the lingering thoughts toward one specific woman, especially when nothing physical had happened. But I haven’t been able to stop thinking about her. He lowered his hand, pressing his palm to the center of his chest and exhaling, the water hitting his forearm and then dripping down his stomach and thighs. Not since the bar. Not since … not since I met her.

His hand dropped lower, Ezra’s palm finding and then stopping over the wound on his belly. He took a deep breath and held it, the raised edges of the scar pressed against his palm, everything warm thanks to the heat of the water.

Both of you had reservations about moving forward, and he’d had no problem with where things ended with you earlier that night. Nothing wrong with slow. He exhaled, eyes closed as he tucked his chin against his chest. And I really don’t know what I’m capable of.

That was the truth. There was no denying that he was attracted to you, and he’d barely been able to conceal his body’s reaction to your proximity when you were on his lap or in his hallway. But he knew that that didn’t automatically mean what it had meant only months earlier.

Because now I can’t just … everything has to be thought through, and … He groaned as his hand moved lower, the man palming the slight bulge between his legs before he curled his lip, taking himself in hand and beginning to stroke along the length.

He was only half hard, and it felt wrong - much like it had every time he’d used his left hand to get himself off. But the touch itself was welcome, and so Ezra continued. He closed his eyes and tilted his head back, the glide of his hand made easier by the remnants of conditioner coating his palm.

His breathing changed after only a few seconds, the sound coming out ragged. Though he could feel himself swelling with every stroke, Ezra tried not to focus on it, instead letting his mind wander.

The humid air in the shower was comforting, and Ezra’s breathing evened out moments later, the man’s eyes opening halfway. Relax. There’s no reason to … He hummed as he slid the tip of his thumb up, swirling the pad of it slowly in a circle while he squeezed. “Oh, Kevva.” It finally felt good, and when he resumed the gliding motion, Ezra’s lips curved into a small smile, hand moving faster.

Heavy against his own palm, Ezra inched closer to the water, the bulk of the spray hitting him in the center of his chest and running down. Tucking his chin closer to his chest to watch its path, he licked his lips at the sight of the way his hand looked - the way each tiny thrust of his hips in time with the stroking motions forced the length of him through his curled fingers.

But moments later, he blinked droplets of water from his eyes and his breath caught at the thought of another hand on him - one smaller and smoother and with a lighter grip, one that was attached to you, your elbow bent as you tucked it close to your body. “Oh, shit.” He hissed the words out, eyes slamming shut, and even though he knew it was wrong, Ezra couldn’t stop himself from continuing the fantasy of having you touch him.

He changed his grip as he tried to imagine what it would feel like, loosening his fingers and rotating his wrist on every downstroke. When he bit his lower lip, his hand reaching his tip again and squeezing, Ezra groaned out your name, speeding up the movement of his hand and forcing his eyes back open.

He blinked to clear the water from them again, his gaze falling back to what he was doing, and with each stroke, Ezra panted out a breath, mouth hanging open.

“Need me to stroke your ego? I’ve wanted to meet you for so long. Is this real life? If you wanted me to come in, you just had to ask. You could have touched me. I wouldn’t have stopped you.”

He replayed your words, pairing them with the memory of the way you’d kissed him back, of the way it felt to have your weight settle into his lap, of the jolt he’d felt the moment you’d locked eyes and smiled at him the night of the concert. All of it. All of it is …

The muscles in his abdomen contracted as he gripped himself tighter, the speed of his hand picking back up. Ezra said your name again, the sound coming out in an almost pathetic grunt, and then the man’s eyes screwed shut.

He was close. He could feel the way his entre body was tensing, the curl of his toes against the textured floor of the shower - and with a final gasp, Ezra twisted his wrist quickly to the right and then to the left as he completed another stroke. “Oh, fuck.”

He came hard, his hips jerking forward as he continued to squeeze himself, the movement of his fingers more of a reflex than anything else. With a low whine, Ezra’s eyes opened again and his gaze drifted down, fixating on the way what hadn’t splattered against the dark-tiled wall was dribbling down and over his fingers. Fuck that felt amazing.

Swearing one more time, Ezra took as deep a breath as he could - and then smiled, releasing his grip and reaching out, using that hand to swipe the tile clean before letting the water rinse his skin. Once that was done, he paused for a few seconds to steady himself before taking another step forward and letting the water hit the top of his head.

He stood there for long moments, catching his breath and rinsing his hair, but Ezra didn’t stop smiling.

It wasn’t the first time that he’d touched himself after the accident. It wasn’t even the first time that he’d done it in the shower. But it was the first time he’d done it thinking of someone that was currently in his life - someone that he could potentially end up trying the real thing with at some point. Soon, maybe.

But what Ezra didn’t know was whether or not it had been a fluke, and if his body would react differently to the two of you actually being together. He didn’t know how you would react to seeing what was left of him - the lost weight and scar tissue, the missing limb much more noticeable in such tight proximity and without anything covering it. “It doesn’t matter right now.” He muttered the words, taking a final, steadying breath before he straightened up.

He felt good as he finished his shower; rinsing the conditioner from his hair and scrubbing his face before using medicated soap to carefully clean the scars on his arm, abdomen and lower back. By the time he’d turned the water off and wrapped himself in a towel, Ezra was as calm as he’d been at any point following the crash, and it shocked him.

It shocked him so much that he didn’t even notice that Cee was sitting in the living room with her feet propped up on one of the footstools in front of the couch. “Ezra? I’m home.”

Swallowing his pills, he turned toward the girl, the glass he’d been holding skittering across the countertop. He spluttered a response out, quickly reaching for a dish towel to clean up the water he’d spilled onto the marble. “Kevva, girl. Warn me next time, I -”

“I said your name twice, Ezra.” She turned, hanging her elbows over the back of the couch and cocking her head to one side. “You didn’t even notice.”

“No, I did not.” Tossing the towel next to the sink, he headed for where she sat, lowering himself onto the opposite end of the couch. “I didn’t know you were back.”

“Yeah, I …” She bit her lip, eyeing him. “I got back a little while ago. Heard your shower running, and wasn’t sure if…” She looked past him, narrowing her eyes at he bedroom door. “If you had company.” For a few seconds, Ezra wondered what she’d heard, and if he’d been too loud. She’s never heard anything before.

“No company, little bird.” He smiled, shrugging. “She did drop me off, though. Brought up those leftovers that were promised, and then left. She has work tomorrow.” Cee’s eyes flashed in the semi-darkness, but the girl stayed quiet, still watching him. “What?”

“I was waiting for you to call.” Cee leaned forward, arms crossed over her chest. “And when you didn’t, I thought … I thought it must have gone well. Or,” she continued, raising a brow. “Or that it went really bad, and -”

“Not bad.” He grinned, the memory of your time on the couch together fresh in his mind. “Not bad at all, Cee.” He watched her eyes widen, and then as the girl stood, spreading her hands out in front of herself, Ezra leaned back and rested his head against the back of the couch, his smile growing. “Stop looking at me like that.”

“No, Ezra, I won’t.” She laughed, planting her feet and then putting her hands on her hips. “Tell me what happened. Tell me ev… well, not everything, but…” She paused and he peeked at her, lifting his shoulders in a shrug before he let them drop. “Ezra!”

“I invited her over to listen to me rehearse.” Licking his lips, Ezra raised his head. “I’ve got the studio, and I need to practice.”

“But you never invite …” Cee blew out a breath. “Oh, that…” She lowered herself onto the edge of the coffee table, facing him. “Good.” Good? Is it? “When?”

“I don’t know.” He could feel the pills beginning to work, the pain in his arm subsiding as the medicine made its way through his bloodstream. “We didn’t set a date, I just extended the invitation.” She hummed, leaning forward. “She seemed surprised.”

“Of course she did.” Cee’s smile widened, the girl’s eyebrows going up. “Think about it from her point of view.” What? “A few weeks ago, you were just …” Cee shrugged, sighing. “Just this guy that she’d only heard on the radio and seen a few times onstage. She’d never even talked to you, but knew things about you.”

“But that -” He pushed himself upright, opening his mouth to speak again, and Cee cut him off.

“And now she’s having dinner with you, and seeing where you live and having you over to her house. You’re inviting her to know you, Ezra, and not just the you that everyone knows.” He contemplated her words, letting out a long, slow breath. She’s right .Things are … changing. He thought back to what he’d done in the shower, though he didn’t let his mind stay there for long. “It’s probably a lot for her to handle, especially on top of a breakup.”

“I’ll … I’ll rescind my invitation, then. I wasn’t thinking. I just wanted her to -”

“No, don’t.” Cee reached out, settling her hand on his flannel-covered knee. “That’s not what I think you should do. I just think you need to remember that this is all new to her, like it was new to you once.”

“And to you.” He blinked slowly, a drowsy warmth settling through his body. “It was new to you, too.”

“No. When you grow up with someone like Damon, you get used to shit fast.” Using two fingers, the girl rubbed the space between her brows. “This is all I know. But I understand it because I’ve seen it with other people, and not … not just the ones you or he were with.” He frowned, lifting his hand to place it atop hers. “Hey.” She said his name, leaning in. “Make sure she knows she’s not just another one of them.”

“She does.” He straightened up, fingers curling over hers. “Of course she -”

“Ezra.” Cee pulled her hand free, tucking her hair behind one ear and then standing. “It’s going to take more than two dates and an invitation over to listen to you sing to prove it.” She leaned in, pressing a kiss to the still-damp hair on his head. “Now come on, you’re about to fall asleep on this couch, and that’ll be hell on your arm.”

She helped him to his feet, but once he was up, Ezra realized that he was much more alert, his gaze snapping down to the girl standing in front of him. “Sometimes I wonder who the real adult in this apartment is, Birdie.” Her answering smile was a grin, and when Cee laughed, Ezra did, too. “I told you earlier that I don’t know what I’m doing, so thank you.”

“Don’t worry about it.” She stepped away from him and toward the kitchen, Ezra watching as she reached up to pull her hair into a loose ponytail. Wait.

“Cee.” He closed his hand into a fist, taking a deep breath. When she turned around to face him, Ezra opened and then closed his mouth, biting down on the inside of his cheek. Just say it. “Thank you.”

“For?” She waited, one hand on her hip.

“For putting this in motion.” Ezra stepped closer, nodding his head. “For suggesting that she go to that bar. For -”

“I might have suggested it, but I didn’t know she’d actually go.” Cee shrugged, but he could hear the satisfied tone of her voice. “And I didn’t know that you’d see each other, either.” It was the truth, but in that moment - the memory of your kiss fresh in his mind, Ezra didn’t care.

“Take the damn compliment, girl.” He barely kept a straight face as he sad it, Cee unable to do so either. As they headed down the hallway toward their bedrooms, both of them were still laughing, Ezra stopping only long enough to flip the light switch as he stood in his doorway. “Goodnight, Cee.”

“Night, Ez.” She turned to look back and over her shoulder at him, her laughter-reddened cheeks visible from the light that spilled out of her bedroom. “See you tomorrow.”

He closed his door behind him and almost immediately pulled his shirt off, tossing it into the basket in the corner. It wasn’t that late, but Ezra was exhausted - and the lingering warmth from his shower coupled with the medication was making it worse.

He didn’t have anywhere to be the following morning, and so he didn’t bother setting an alarm, instead heading back to his dresser and grabbing his nighttime compression sleeve. He pulled it on, turning his head to stare down at it, and then let his eyes wander to his abdomen, a slow breath escaping his nose as his fingers traced along the scar there.

Ezra sat in silence for a few minutes, hand pressed to his belly, and then he leaned back, reaching over to turn his light off before pulling the blanket over his body. The darkness was comforting to him - as it always had been, and when Ezra stretched out, he felt himself relaxing completely, his weight sinking into the mattress.

I should text her and say goodnight. Keeping his eyes shut, he contemplated doing just that - and then, as sleep began to overtake him, he decided against it. It’s too late. She’s asleep already. Ezra turned his head, cheek resting against the cool pillowcase - but with a smile on his face. I’ll reach out tomorrow.

And only moments later, he too was sleeping - going under much faster than he had at any point in the previous few months.

—

You hadn’t expected to hear from Ezra right away, but when two days passed without any sort of contact, you started to worry.

You’d left things on good terms with him - or so you’d thought, the man initiating a borderline desperate kiss with you in front of his door, his body pressed to yours in a way that would have been indecent in public.

Maybe he’s busy. You tried to convince yourself, the words sounding hollow in your head as you drove home from work on Thursday afternoon. Or maybe something came up.

It wasn’t that you’d assumed you would see him again right away, but his suggestion had sounded like he wanted you over in the near future, not somewhere far down the road. And I’d love to see him in his studio. You hated admitting it - hated feeling like just another fan, hated the idea that there was even a small part of you that was looking forward to being privy to that part of Ezra’s life instead of just spending time with him doing other things. But he invited me, and he knows … he knows that I…

“Dammit.” You groaned, slapping a hand over your face as you sat at a red light. “Why are you like this?” Whispering the words, you reached over with your other hand and turned the car’s radio on, flipping through channels.

Almost as if the universe was playing a cruel trick on you, you heard Ezra’s familiar voice coming through the speakers moments later, The Fringe’s most popular single filling the car’s interior. There was nothing you could do but laugh, and as the light changed and you eased off the brake, you shook your head, doing the only logical thing you could think of and started singing along.

The song ended and went straight into a reminder from the announcer about the benefit concert - and an update that it was completely sold out.

In spite of the uncertainty about your situation with him, you grinned. Good for you, Ezra. You weren’t surprised that the show was sold out but you were surprised that it had happened so quickly - the venue was a decent size, tickets had only gone on sale a week or so earlier, and they weren’t exactly cheap.

But it was going to be the first time he took the stage since the accident, and you knew that people were excited to support him and the other members of the band in any way they could. Especially since it could be the last time. It was a sobering thought, and as you parked and got out of your car, you took and held a deep breath. It won’t be the last time. It can’t be.

While you heated up dinner a few minutes later, you pulled your phone out and started scrolling through your social media feed. It was a lot of the usual - though there was an update on the band’s page thanking everyone for ensuring the sellout so quickly. You liked it and then refreshed the page, sucking in a breath at the newest post.

It was a video post from Ezra, sitting on what you recognized as his balcony. He’d taken the video himself, the man visible from the shoulders up. You didn’t waste any time in pressing play, eyes trained on the handheld screen.

“Hello and good evening, everyone. I just wanted to take a few moments to express my unending gratitude to all of you.” He paused, tilting his head to one side and smiling. “When we announced this show, I hoped… well, I hoped that enough people would be interested that we could do some good for the people we care about and now, because of you?” He squinted, the angle of the phone changing enough so that part of his upper chest was visible, a V of skin showing thanks to the fact that he was wearing an unbuttoned undershirt. “We will be able to do that and more. So thank you. Thank all of you for your support.” He took a breath, nodding, and lifting the phone slightly higher. “You have no idea what it means to me.” There was another pause and then Ezra grinned, the smile lifting his cheeks and making your heart thud against your ribs. “We’ll see you very, very soon. I think you’ll like what we’re planning for you.”

The video ended there, and even though it was only a minute or so old, there were already people interacting with it - hundreds of likes and more than a handful of comments. You double tapped the screen before you could stop yourself and then contemplated unliking it moments later. No, that would be weird. And then despite your better judgment, you looked through the comments.

There were a few congratulating Ezra on the sellout, and a couple of people that had said that they were happy to see that he was looking healthier and happier. The majority of them were decidedly less PG, though - comments ranging from women offering to help keep Ezra healthy in a variety of ways to ones that were flat out obscene. But before you could get through them all, your screen went dark and then lit up again as a call came through. Ezra.

Biting down on your lower lip, you answered, lifting your phone to your ear. “Hello?”

“Did you actually watch that video, or just hit the button without seeing what I had to say?” What? “It took me a couple tries to get a good one.”

“Of course I watched it.” How did he know I liked it? “But -”

“But?” He hummed, the sound audible through the speaker. “But what?”

“Ezra, you don’t follow me, so how did you even know?” He laughed then, but cut himself off a few seconds later, saying your name.

“I saw your name pop up. I almost missed it, but I figured that you still might have your phone in your hand, so… I thought I’d call.” How did he see it? There were hundreds of other people. “And I was right.” Turning the stove off, you stepped away from it and then sat at the kitchen table, trying to come up with something to say.

“You were.” It was a less than impressive reply, but it was the best you could do. “Congratulations on the show, Ezra. That’s got to feel amazing to know how excited people are to see you again.”

“It does.” Ezra paused and then continued, his voice low. “That’s why I didn’t call sooner.”

“You don’t need to explain. I wasn’t… I didn’t expect -”

“I know, but it’s the truth. We were trying to decide whether or not we wanted to move the show to a different venue, and I’ve been on the damn phone for hours yesterday and today. By the time I was done, I was exhausted, and I didn’t … I didn’t want to take that out on you.”

“Hey, you said I’d hear from you soon, not immediately.” You felt a weight lift from your chest, the realization that Ezra wasn’t avoiding you a confirmation that you hadn’t realized that you needed. “You’re busy. I get it.”

“I am. Or,” he went on, laughing again. “I was. Everything’s taken care of now.” Good. I’m glad to hear it. “Do you have plans tomorrow?”

“No. Just work.”

“My invitation stands. Want to come over? We can order dinner and then I can show you the studio.” You had no reason to say no. And I don’t want to. Taking a few seconds, you considered it - thoughts going back to the comments you’d read and the people that had left them before they skipped ahead to the fact that not even five minutes after posting that video - and presumably fulfilling an obligation that he felt he had to the general public, he’d called you.

“I like the sound of that.” Pressing your lips together, you closed your eyes. “What time?”

“After work. I’ll be here. Just let me know when you’re on your way.” Telling him that you would, you stood up from the chair and then headed back for the stove, taking a deep breath.

“Can I bring anything with me?”

“Just yourself.” He said your name, the sound of it rolling off of his tongue. “That’s all I need.”

—

It was raining the following day, the sky full of gray clouds that showed no sign of clearing up as the hours passed.

You kept yourself busy, but you couldn’t help feeling more than a little nervous the later it got, your anticipation for the night growing along with the deepening dark outside. It’s just Ezra and dinner. We’ve done that before.

It helped - a little - and as you shut your computer down for the weekend and said goodbye to Jillian, you felt your phone vibrate. It was a message from Cee, the girl’s words straight to the point.

Ezra’s nervous about tonight. I just wanted to warn you that he might not be able to sing like he planned.

Part of you was happy that he was nervous, too. But you were also upset that he didn’t feel as at ease as he should have about the night. Pausing in the lobby, you tapped your thumb on the screen, sighing.

He has no reason to be nervous. I’m just coming over to see you guys and eat some food. Anything else that happens is a bonus.

The message sent, you tucked your phone into your bag and zipped it, hurrying across the parking lot and to your car.

Cee hadn’t responded by the time you got home, and the same was true after you’d changed out of your work clothes and into something better suited for hanging out in someone’s apartment for the night. Maybe she won’t. Staring into the mirror in your bathroom, you applied fresh makeup - mascara and eyeliner - before blotting over your nose and under your eyes with a little bit of powder. Not too much, but I just … I have to do something.

After you brushed your teeth, you put on lip gloss, staring into the mirror for a few final seconds.

You looked calm and focused - and that was enough for you. Grabbing your phone, you sent a message over to Ezra, asking if it was alright for you to head there. To your surprise, he replied within seconds, the message enough to get your feet moving toward the door.

Of course. I’ll be waiting.

Teeth closing around one knuckle, you fought back a smile. He might be nervous about the singing, but at least he’s not worried about seeing me.

—

She watches as Ezra paces around the living room, his left hand gripping his right bicep. Cee understands how anxious he is, but doesn’t think that he has any reason to be. What can I even say, though?

There isn’t much, and she knows it, but she hates seeing him this way, especially when he shouldn’t be anything but excited for the night. Distract him. “Ezra, what are we having for dinner?”

She stands, walking over to the balcony door and looking out at the rain, which has turned into a full-blown thunderstorm in the previous hour. It’s comforting, and she hopes that she can sleep with her window open later on, something that she could never do when she lived with Damon.

“I don’t know.” He sighs, pausing in his motion and turns in her direction. “What do you want?” Cee thinks for a few seconds and then turns again, smiling.

“Well, it’s coming down hard out there, so ordering a delivery is kind of an asshole move.” To her surprise, Ezra’s brows raise, the man’s nerves easing slightly. Good. This is good. “I know we eat there a lot, but the restaurant in the lobby is a good choice.” And it means we won’t have to wait a long time. “We can tell her what we like.”

“We can.” Ezra steps forward, lowering his arm and shaking his head. “Birdie, you’re a lifesaver.” Cee grins and drops her chin, crossing her arms.

“No, I’m just hungry.” He laughs at that and she’s glad to hear it, but before she can speak again, the entire room is illuminated by a flash of lightning, Ezra’s eyes darting away from her and toward the glass.

“I should tell her not to come. It’s too dangerous for anyone to be driving right now.” Cee actually agrees, but hesitates before saying anything. Because I’m sure she’s on her way. And if he calls, she might answer, and it …

She knows all too well how easy it is to get into an accident while driving, and knows that Ezra does, too. “She’ll be here soon, Ezra. And then by the time she’s ready to leave, the weather will be much better.” He’s torn and she knows it, but Ezra reluctantly nods in agreement, reaching up and running his hand through his hair.

It’s wild that night, the dark brown locks twisting away from his head like they always do when he’s let them air dry, and for some reason, it makes Cee smile. It means he’s comfortable with her seeing him like this. His outfit says the same - a pair of dark jeans and a short-sleeved shirt, feet covered in only socks - and Cee hopes that whatever this is for the two of you, it’s only the beginning. Because he deserves it.

There’s a knock on the door, the sound startling both of them, but before she can even move, Ezra’s already heading for it, his stride even. “Got it.”

She doesn’t object, and even though she doesn’t look away, Cee lowers herself onto the couch, watching. “Hey, Ezra.” She hears your voice only seconds later, though Ezra’s position blocks you from view. “Sorry it took me so long, I… it’s really coming down out there.”

“Not a problem,” he replies, the man’s reply quiet. “I’m glad you made it.” It’s a side of him that people rarely see, and Cee smiles at the absurdity of it. Ezra’s onstage persona is one thing, but the man at home and with friends is something else entirely, and sometimes it’s hard to remember that they’re both the same man. Wasn’t like that with Damon. She frowns, closing her eyes. He was the same no matter where he was or who he was with. “I thought about telling you not to come.”

“I’m glad you didn’t.” She hears your voice again - louder, since you’re closer, and when Cee opens her eyes, she watches as you remove your rain-soaked jacket, only looking away from Ezra for long enough to find a place to hang it. “I have nothing in my house to make for dinner tonight, and there’s no way in Kevva’s name I’d make anyone drive food to me.”

“See!” Cee stands, gesturing with one hand. “That’s exactly what I said!” You meet her eyes and smile, and Cee can see amusement in them, a silent thank you evident in their depths, too. “Luckily, we have a restaurant in the building, and Ezra and I have ordered enough off of the menu to be experts.”

“Is that so?” You stick both hands on your hips, looking back at the man. “Well then I can’t wait to find out what’s worth trying.”

—

It doesn’t take long - the three of you pulling the menu up on your phones and both of them going over the things that they’ve eaten and liked, along with warning you of the few things that they hadn’t enjoyed.

But even as she goes through the menu, Cee doesn’t stop looking between you and Ezra and watching the glances that the two of you share.

He didn’t tell her that anything happened between you after she’d left your house, but Cee knows that something did. She sees it in the way you lean closer to him, pointing at the menu on his screen. It’s clear in the way his eyes linger on your face while you look down, his lips curving upward into a genuine smile while when you bring up the dessert you shared the first time you visited the bar.

She likes seeing Ezra happy and relaxed, and even though she knows there might be more difficult moments later when the decision about going into the studio needs to be made, she’ll take what she can get now.

They make one large order, Cee handling the entire thing on her tablet, and once she’s placed it and gotten a delivery window, she darkens the screen. “Alright, it’s going to be an hour or so.” Sighing, Cee, stands. “What should we do until then?”

“Whatever you guys want.” You shrug, shifting on the couch and meeting her eyes. “We can put the TV on, or I can tell you about the thrilling world of -”

“Ezra.” Cee sighs, flexing her fingers. “You should show her the apartment.” When he meets her eyes she sees apprehension in them, one side of his jaw twitching. “She’s seen out here, but she hasn’t seen the rest of it.”

“Oh, I don’t -” But Ezra stops you with a shake of his head, the man swallowing hard before he turns away from Cee and looks at you. I either made a big mistake, or …

“Now, I know that Birdie isn’t suggesting I show you my bedroom so early into the evening, so would you like to see the recording studio?” Cee can’t help it - she laughs at the matter of fact tone of his voice, leaning back against the cushions.

“I… Ezra, sure.” You’re barely concealing your own laughter, but you nod, reaching out and settling a hand on Ezra’s knee. “Only if you want to, though.”

She’s giving you an out where Cee didn’t, and even though she knows it might not have been the right thing to do, the girl doesn’t regret pushing Ezra into action. Because someone has to. And if I’m the one to do it, it won’t ruin… them.

“Whether or not I use the studio tonight remains to be seen.” He stands, holding out his hand, and Cee’s breath catches as you take it, the man’s fingers closing around yours and squeezing. “But there’s no harm in showing it to you.”

He glances over at her, and even though his expression is serious, Cee can see that Ezra isn’t mad at her. “What?”

“You made this suggestion, little bird, so it is only appropriate that you join us, is it not?” There’s no real way out of it and so Cee agrees, the girl standing, too. She doesn’t know how long she’ll be able to stay in the room, or what hearing Ezra’s voice through a microphone will make her feel, but the least she can do is agree to find out.

“Lead the way, Ezra.”

She follows the two of you down the hall and is pleased to see that he doesn’t let go of your hand until he needs to. “This is a small studio. I converted the bedroom so that when inspiration struck, I had the tools to capture anything I came up with.”

Cee remembers the first time she saw the room - a desk with a computer and large monitor, microphones and headphones, a miniature keyboard, a set of speakers nicer than anything that she’d ever seen before… and Ezra’s guitar setup. It had impressed her - someone that had grown up around musicians, and she wonders what you’ll think of it.

“I’ve seen pictures of it.” You nod your head and look at him, chewing on your lower lip. “You’ve posted them before.”

“I have indeed.” His smile is large, the man’s teeth visible. “But I hope you like the real thing, too.”

He pushes open the door and then gestures for you to enter, Ezra’s eyes moving away from you and landing on her, Cee’s only response a small nod and a frown, her own apprehension growing.

Damon’s equipment had been in the room immediately following the accident, but once Ezra was released from the hospital, he’d rented out a small storage space, moving that equipment along with the tour gear that hadn’t been ruined into it. That change made it easier for Cee to stay in the apartment, and as she follows the two of you into the small space, she finally lets out a long breath. This is fine.

It’s not as overwhelming as she imagines it will be, and even though she listens as Ezra points out his equipment, Cee is only halfway paying attention. Instead, she’s focused on the rack of guitars along one wall, her eyes moving between them before they land on his desk, the computer monitor dark. There’s a picture of the band there too, the small frame showing Ezra, Damon and Number Two, and with a quiet gasp, Cee realizes it’s one that she took, early on in the tour.

It’s not the first time she’s seen Damon’s face since the accident, but for the first time, she feels genuine anger at the sight of him. If you hadn’t been selfish, we wouldn’t be here now. The girl’s jaw clenches, her eyes locked on the way all three men are smiling at the camera - at her - surrounded by their equipment during a load-in. You ruined everything.

“And this is where all of my earliest recordings go.” Ezra is standing next to her, and with some shock, Cee registers that he’s squeezing her hand, the man’s thumb sweeping over her palm. “Unfinished versions of songs, chord progressions I don’t want to forget, the recitation of lyrics before they’ve found their permanent homes.” He squeezes her hand hard and then lets go, leaning forward to power the device on. “I keep pictures around for inspiration. You can see the one there, of us on the most recent tour.” He reaches up and behind the framed picture, pulling out a small photo album. “This is filled with memories of other tours and album recording sessions.”

Ezra flips the book open, and Cee’s eyes - along with yours - are drawn to the glossy images contained within the pages, snapshots of things that she was both present and absent for. It’s a journey through Ezra’s career over the years. “You look so young.” You reach out and point at one of the pictures, laughter in your voice. “How old is this one?”

“Recording the first album.” Cee smiles at his reply, glancing over to watch as Ezra sighs. “Almost ten years ago.” She barely remembers him from back then, but there’s photographic proof - her, tiny and blonde, hair twisted into pigtails and peeking in from the corner of the picture. For the first time, Cee wonders how much you know, how deep into Ezra and The Fringe’s past you’ve delved - if you know that Damon helped to write music for the first album, even though he wasn’t part of the band.

But the computer screen flickering from the lock screen to Ezra’s desktop makes Cee gasp, one hand rising to cover her mouth. “Ezra, when -”

“Right after we got home, Birdie.” He lays his hand on her shoulder then, his fingers tightening. “It was a good one, and there are so few of us recently.” She leans in, eyeing the picture that has been set as his desktop background, and all at once, Cee’s throat tightens before she can swallow and her eyes squeeze shut, her grip on the edge of the desk tight. I remember when this was taken.

“It’s a good picture.” You speak up, though you’re still quiet. “From the last tour, I take it?”

“Mmhmm.” Ezra’s answering hum is short, but he continues as Cee fights to catch her breath. “From the final night, actually. Just before we pulled out of the parking lot.” She hears your gasp, fighting to keep one of her own from escaping, and then Cee forces her eyes open. “Number Two… Luke took it with my phone.”

When Cee looks at the picture again, she’s calmer, her lips even managing a brief smile as he explains the story behind the image to you. She’s standing halfway behind him in it, both hands raised behind his head, her fingers sticking up as though he’s got horns. She’s smiling - Ezra’s eyes partway closed, his mouth open in laughter and her nose wrinkled, some of the band’s gear behind them. Most of it was already loaded into the trailer but there were still a few cases stacked and waiting.

Cee vividly remembers that night and everything about it - except for the minutes she’d fallen asleep in the backseat. “I didn’t know you made that your background, Ezra.” She stares over at him, her eyes wide. “I didn’t even know you had it. I thought it was on Luke’s phone.”

“I did, and I do.” He shrugs, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “Surprise.” She understands - it’s a reminder of the tour and the happiness they’d all experienced while on it, and yet another example of the relationship that she’d built with the man acting as her surrogate father. Not only does he have pictures of me like I’m important to him, he has one that he sees every time he turns on his computer.

“Wait.” She turns to him, crossing her arms over her chest. “Ezra, if you set this picture as your wallpaper…” Cee trails off, her heart pounding in her chest. “And you did it after we got home, then…”

“Yes?” He’s amused - the lift of one brow and the smirk on his face both indications that he knows exactly what she’s about to say. Or that he has an idea. “Little bird?”

“That means you’re using the recording software, which means you aren’t just coming in here and singing into the mic. It means -”

“It does.” Ezra wets his lips, nodding. “A few times, I’ve … I’ve tried. And I’ve recorded some vocals, but it…” She can’t stop herself from moving forward and wrapping her arms around him, the girl burying her face into his chest. “Cee, what are -”

“You’re going to be OK, Ezra.” It’s a relief to know that even though she hasn’t actually seen or heard him using the studio, he’s found time to do so, no matter how short the sessions. “Kevva, that makes me happy.”

When she pulls away from him, she sees that you’ve taken a few steps backward, eyes scanning the room as you give them their space. No, that’s not how this is supposed to go. Cee nods up at Ezra and then makes a face, tipping her chin subtly in the direction that you’ve moved off in. Pay attention to her, Ezra. “I will be alright. We both will be.” Ezra clears his throat and then moves away from Cee, saying your name as he turns. “What do you think?”

“I think…” You’re leaning against one wall, and Cee focuses on you, her hands stuffed into her pockets. “I think this is impressive. And I think that it’s really strange to see your guitars up close, Ezra, after only seeing them in pictures and onstage for so long.” You glance over at the rack of instruments and then meet Ezra’s eyes again. “There are a lot of them.”

“Well…” He starts, straightening up and letting his shoulders drop back, his attention entirely on you. “Maybe after we eat, we can come back in here and you can get a closer look.” Your eyes widen at his suggestion and then you smile, agreeing. Good. This is perfect. This is… great.

He still might not end up singing, but the fact that Ezra wants you back in his space is meaningful - and offering you the opportunity to take a closer look at the guitars is even moreso. I won’t come back in. Not tonight. Cee looks between the two of you, making up her mind. Tonight they can spend time in here by themselves.

—

As the three of you waited for the food to be brought up, Ezra attempted to keep himself calm.

It had nothing to do with you being in the apartment; that wasn’t the issue. It didn’t even have anything to do with the idea of turning on the microphone and booting up the recording software so that he could practice a few songs in front of an audience of two.

His anxiety was due to the fact that from the moment you’d walked into the converted bedroom studio, he’d been at ease.

He could count the number of people that weren’t in the business that had been in the studio on his remaining hand, and even then, he wouldn’t have needed all of his available fingers. The studio was his space, somewhere that he knew that he could go to get away from everything and everyone, and despite the fact that he was attracted to you, you were still a stranger.

It shouldn’t have felt that way. He swiped a hand through his hair, watching as you and Cee talked about something, the girl’s phone held between you so that you could both see the screen. So why did it?

He’d invited you over - and he’d meant it, but he’d expected a feeling of apprehension from the moment he’d opened the door that would last until you’d exited the room again … and it hadn’t happened.

Watching your face as you looked around the room had been a revelation to him; the man’s eyes focused on the way you looked but didn’t get too close until he’d encouraged you to, the way your eyes brightened at the sight of the guitars on the wall and on the rack. Despite the fact that he’d trusted you enough to invite you into his space, he’d expected the same type of thing that he’d gotten used to from others that got a closer look at his career. And she didn’t do it. She just …

“Ezra?” You said his name, leaning in, and he realized that Cee had risen and was heading for the door. “Where do you want to eat?” One corner of your mouth rose in a half smile before you lifted a thumb to your lips, biting down on the nail. “Food’s here, and -”

“Here is fine.” He gestured in front of himself and at the low table. “That way we can share.” You nodded and then stood, too, looking back at him over your shoulder.

“Cee asked me to get drinks. Is there anything that you want?” Instead of answering, Ezra pushed himself to his feet and gestured that he’d follow you, the man eyeing Cee as she spoke to the employee at the door. He recognized the woman, smiling at the realization that you probably had at least a few minutes before the conversation was concluded, and stepped even closer to you.

“I may only have one hand, but I can still help.” Humming out a laugh, you stopped in front of the refrigerator and then turned enough to face him.

“I know you can, Ezra. But you looked like you were lost in thought, so -” I was. “So we didn’t want to interrupt.”

He didn’t even try and stop himself from reaching for you then, his fingers closing around your wrist and then tugging you closer, your lips parting in surprise as you held a hand out to steady yourself against his chest. “You wouldn’t have interrupted anything.” He spoke quietly, eyes locked with yours. “We didn’t get a chance to say hello earlier, did we?”

“No.” Your eyes dropped to his mouth briefly, fingers curling against his shirt. “We didn’t.” Pushing his uncertainty about his lack of reaction to your presence in the studio to the side, Ezra leaned in and closed the final distance between you.

It was a soft kiss - gentle, because both of you knew that it had to be brief. But it lasted long enough for you to settle your free hand on his hip, Ezra releasing your wrist to slide his palm up your arm. He backed off first - slowly - your lower lip trapped between both of his. I could get used to this.

He had the thought almost instantaneously as he opened his eyes again, the man standing up straight. “Ezra, I …” He barely heard you, the man’s heartbeat thudding in his ears, but he registered that you hadn’t moved either of your hands - and his was still settled on your bicep. “You -

“Uh, guys?” He whipped his head to the side, the sound of Cee’s voice louder than it usually was. “Look, I don’t want to interrupt, but we’ve got a lot of food here, and you’re kind of blocking the refrigerator, so…” Shit. He groaned but you laughed, stepping back and turning so that you could reach for the door handle. “Bring napkins, too. There aren’t many in these bags.”

“What do you want, Ezra?” You were leaning forward, one hand inside of the fridge. “Beer? There’s a bottle of wine in here, too. Water, and …” You trailed off as he reached past you, his fingers closing around the neck of one of the beer bottles as his chest made contact with your side. “Oh… Beer. Alright. Can I have one of those, too?”

“Of course you can.” Straightening back up, Ezra cleared his throat. “There’s a bottle opener next to the sink, too.” Murmuring a reply, he turned back toward the living room, where Cee was busily unpacking the bags of food and arranging containers on the table.

As he approached, she looked up and grinned at him, pausing long enough to give him a double thumbs up and a wink. Yeah, yeah. I deserve that. Cee finished what she was doing and then plopped down onto the chair he’d been sitting on before, ensuring that you’d need to sit next to him. I should have known. He set his bottle down and kept watching the girl, teeth worrying the inside of his lower lip.

You made it into the room a minute or so later, setting down a stack of napkins before you held out Cee’s drink. She took it from you with a quiet thanks, popping the tab on the can, and Ezra’s attention went back to you.

“This smells amazing.” Taking a seat, you opened your beer. “Here, Ezra, hold this for me?” You handed him the bottle and then reached for the one he’d left on the table, opening it and then raising the neck to your lips, taking a drink. “Damn, that’s good.” That was … He scoffed, closing his eyes. Smooth. Like something that I’d do.

It was a small thing, but he felt a wave of affection for you at the simple gesture. Instead of calling attention to the fact that he’d need someone to help him open the bottle, you’d addressed and acted on it in the same motion. And she’s done it before, too.

“Thank you.” You didn’t need the acknowledgement, and he knew it, but someone being so proactive about his needs without making it big deal was almost a novelty to Ezra. He cleared his throat and picked up his bottle, taking a drink, too. Think about this later. Enjoy dinner. “So.” Setting the beer back down, he gestured to the spread in front of you. “We have a lot of food here, and I can promise you that everything is delicious.”

“Yeah. You have to try it all.” Cee spoke up, the girl already chewing on one of the breadsticks. “Take as much as you want, OK? We’re never going to finish it all.” Laughing, you agreed, reaching for one of the plates and then immediately going for one of the covered dishes.

“You don’t need to tell me twice, Cee. I’m really hungry.”

—

Dinner went smoothly, the three of you eating more of the food than you’d thought you would. Cee had no inhibitions when it came to enjoying the meal, the girl refilling her plate twice and then reaching for the little bit of pasta that remained in the container and finishing that off, too.

And Ezra was the same, the man’s plate clearing slower than yours or Cee’s, just due to the way he had to eat with only one hand. But he was animated throughout the meal, telling stories about himself and about places he’d been, Cee chiming in occasionally and reminding him of something that he’d then elaborate on.

You’d already eaten in front of Ezra twice, and so you had no reason to act shy about it that time, either. You were sure to try almost everything on the table, agreeing with Cee that the one sauce was better than the other, and then with Ezra that you preferred breaded to grilled, but the meal itself was an enjoyable one.

But even though you had a good meal, the minutes you’d spent in the studio still weighed heavily on your mind, as did the kiss you’d shared with Ezra in front of the refrigerator.

Walking into the studio had been an experience for you, your eyes finding and immediately settling on equipment that you were very familiar with. The memories of Ezra holding the guitars or singing into the microphones were vivid, and you tried your best to keep from letting it show. Don’t act like an asshole.

You wanted to reach out and touch the instruments, wanted to step up closer and take in the dings and scratches on the guitar bodies, to see if you could tell which of the acoustics he favored based on how worn the frets were and where the body was smooth from the slide of his arm over the curved edge.

You didn’t, though, even though you didn’t know if that would be the only opportunity you got to see the instruments up close. By the time he was flipping through the photo album, you were happier with your decision. Ezra seemed much more at ease with you in the room than Cee had made it seem like he’d be, and you didn’t want to ruin that.

Their interaction in the studio was the tense one, the girl’s surprise at the sight of both main pictures a surprise to her that you’d tried hard to stay out of. It has to be strange for her. You watched them hug, though you focused elsewhere, and when you were back in the main room, you and Cee sitting on the couch while Ezra took the comfortable chair, the tension was gone.

By the time the food arrived, it felt like the three of you were old friends, and even though Ezra’s attention had drifted, the man’s attention on the rain-streaked glass of the balcony doors, it wasn’t a cold silence. And Cee and I have been just fine.

You hadn’t expected him to follow you into the kitchen, but you were happy that he had - the man’s presence just behind you almost magnetic in the way you attuned yourself to it without pause.

The kiss had been a shock, Ezra’s fingers closing around your wrist and urging you closer. When he’d encouraged you to hold onto him, you’d stopped thinking and just let yourself react. It seemed like that was what he’d wanted, and you’d been ready to make a comment on it before Cee’s interruption. That came at the right time, though.

Ezra was intense, and if the girl hadn’t spoken up, you didn’t know what would have happened. Another kiss at least. He hadn’t seemed embarrassed by getting caught, and that was confirmed when, while you ate, he reached over to touch you occasionally. Ezra’s hand fell to land on your knee between bites, the man’s elbow jabbing gently into your side a few times as you joked with them.

It was still raining hard as you and Cee started to clean up the remnants of your dinner, the girl insisting that Ezra stay where he was. “You’re paying, Ezra. The least we can do is put away the leftovers.” You snorted at that but only shrugged your shoulders in response as he rolled his eyes, the man watching as you stacked up empty containers.

When you met Cee in the kitchen, she thanked you, pointing to the cupboard where the trash can was. “Do you want another beer, Ezra? I’m in here, and I can bring it to you before -”

“Sure.” He leaned forward, nodding. “But I can come get it myself.”

“She’ll bring it to you, Ezra.” Cee spoke up from behind you, sighing. “There’s not much left to put away. I’ve got it.” Wait, no. That’s …

“Cee, I can help.” She shook her head though, jutting her chin out and toward the other room.

“Just go.” She dropped her voice, turning the water on a little higher to muffle the sound further. “He’s in a good mood. Go spend time with him.” I… You wanted to, but also felt horrible leaving her with the cleanup. “Go. This is nothing, it’ll take five minutes.” She smiled at you, using the back of one hand to swipe at her cheek. “I’m serious.”

You didn’t argue, instead returning to the refrigerator and grabbing two more bottles before heading back to where Ezra still sat. Repeating the opening process without speaking, you held a bottle out to him, a flash of lightning illuminating his features as he took it from you. “Did you still want to hear me sing?”

You settled back onto the couch cushions, turning your head to stare at him. “That’s not why I came over here, Ezra, but …” You sipped your beer, giving yourself a few extra seconds. “But yeah. I’d like that.” He blinked slowly, studying your face. “Only if you want to, though.”

He took a few seconds to think but then Ezra nodded, the expression on his face changing to one of determination. “I do. I want to sing for you.” For me? That’s… that’s a different … Your heart pounding, you nodded back and then averted your eyes, taking a long drink of your beer. “Cee?” Ezra stood, lowering the hand holding his bottle to one side. “We’re going to go into the studio and get things set up. When you’re done, come in and -”

“Not tonight, Ezra.” You followed him to the hallway, pausing next to the man as he turned back toward the kitchen. Cee was still by the sink, the water running - but she was looking back over her shoulder at where you stood. “I don’t… think I’m ready.”

Part of you expected him to push back, but Ezra didn’t, only humming in quiet agreement and saying your name under his breath. He reached for you, the tips of his fingers brushing your elbow, and then headed for the open doorway of he studio room, you following only a few steps behind.

“Close the door behind you.” He spoke when you were both inside, the man setting his bottle down onto the desktop before he turned to face you. “The soundproofing only works when it’s shut.”

You did as he asked, and when you heard the click, you sucked in a breath. It’s just us. We’re… oh, shit. You didn’t know what to say - or what Ezra would say, and so you chewed on your lower lip for a few seconds, waiting. Say something. Don’t make this weird. It’s… it shouldn’t feel weird. “Did you do all this yourself, or did someone come in and do it for you?”

“That’s a good question.” He smiled, tilting his head to one side. “I hired someone to soundproof it, because I wanted to be sure it was done right.” He paused, eyes on your face. “I thought my neighbors would appreciate it.”

“I’m sure they do.” He laughed, finally looking away from you and turning to face the computer.

“There’s a stool in the closet behind you, if you want to grab that.” You did as he told you, opening the door and gasping at what was hanging inside. That’s the jacket he … You couldn’t help it - reaching forward and letting your fingers trail over the weathered material. It was softer than you thought, the wrinkled material hanging limply before your eyes. “You can take that out and look at it if you want.”

Freezing, you swore under your breath and then winced, pulling your hand away as though it had been burned. “Ezra, I didn’t mean to -”

“No, I mean it.” He sighed. “I haven’t looked at that in months. I need to, though. Because I’ll need to put it back on very soon.” He told me to take it out, so…

With trembling fingers, you reached for the hanger and pulled the jacket out and into the light of the room, your eyes never leaving the fabric you held. “You’ve worn this to start every show, right?” Glancing up to see his response, you smiled at his nod. “It’s crazy that it’s just … here. I didn’t…”

“I’ve had that since before I started writing music. Was wearing it the first time I ever played live.” He stepped closer to you, the man’s hand reaching out so that he too could run his fingers over the surface of the jacket - one thumb swiping along the seam in front of the shoulder where the light quilted material joined the fawn-colored leather. “I figured that if it brought me good fortune once, it would do it again.”

And it had - the jacket had become just as popular as the man himself, one of the best-selling pieces of merchandise a replica hooded sweatshirt that you’d contemplated buying more times than you cared to admit. “I love this jacket, Ezra. But…” Frowning, you twisted the hanger in your hand. “I didn’t know there was a hood.”

“It’s detachable.” He grinned, stepping even closer and reaching past you - much like he had in the kitchen. “It makes no sense to wear it onstage because if I had it up, I wouldn’t be able to see a damn thing.” He laughed. “Let me have it.”

You unzipped the jacket and then handed it to him, the man surprising you by slipping it on and then flipping the hood up in one smooth motion. And you had to laugh, too, as the material settled low over his eyes. “Yeah, that would make playing guitar pretty hard.”

“It would.” Ezra took a deep breath, the man’s chin dropping as he looked down at where his right arm would have been. “Feels a little different to have it on now.”

“Still looks just a good on you, though.” Reaching forward, you brushed your fingers over the tattered patch on the sleeve. “And you know it.” His gaze rose then, the man eyeing you from beneath the hood, and without even giving yourself a second to overthink, you reached for him, sliding one hand beneath the coat and against his side.

He reached up with his hand, pushing the hood back, and then Ezra kissed you again - and there was nothing timid about that one. You tightened your hold on him, sighing against his lips and then Ezra’s hand was on the back of your neck, stroking slowly over the warm skin there.

There was no interruption, and when he parted his lips, urging yours to do the same, you let it happen, inhaling through your nose and placing the hand still holding onto the hanger against his lower back. The tip of his tongue teased the fullest part of your lower lip and at that, you let out a quiet whimper, your fingers curling against his side.

That was all he needed, the man pulling back long enough to inhale, and then his mouth was on yours again, the kiss deep from the very beginning. And I want it. I want this. I want… Ezra’s grip on your neck changed, the man urging your head to a slight angle, and once that was done, it was his turn to groan, the man’s tongue stroking along yours with fervor.

It was the most physical things had gotten between you, and you could feel the desire pouring off of him as he shifted even closer, Ezra not even trying to hide how much he was enjoying himself. But I am, too. Pressing your body against his, you hummed when Ezra backed off enough to drag his teeth over your kiss-swollen lower lip, his grip going lax. “Ezra…”

Your voice was quiet and vaguely needy, and at the sound of it, Ezra sighed, smiling. “I’m not going to apologize for that because I’m not at all sorry.” He pressed his lips to yours again - briefly - and then stepped backwards, taking another deep breath. “But you didn’t come in here so that I could have my way with you. You’re here to hear me -”

“I’m not complaining.” At all. That was … Kevva that was … Laughing nervously, you covered your mouth with one hand, head shaking from side to side. “Ezra, that -”

“Later.” He licked his lips, nodding. “For now…” He shrugged the jacket off and then held it back out to you. “Put this away for me and let me get my microphone set up.” Taking a deep breath, Ezra glanced over at the computer. “And think about what you’d like to hear me sing.”

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Tag list reblog coming soon!

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