Robbie's point of view.
About three weeks later, a receptionist came to get me while I was sitting by the pool. She explained that there had been a commotion at the front desk because a security guard had stopped someone who was not on my visitor list and asked to see me.
“Would you mind coming with me to let us know if you want to see this person?” she asked.
“Sure,” I said, following her willingly.
When we reached the lobby, I couldn’t help but smile as I recognized Sam, although not immediately. He was wearing a red wig and a security guard stood behind him, holding both his arms.
“Sam?” I asked, walking closer and meeting his eyes. “Nice wig.”
“Thanks,” he said, trying not to laugh. “I would pull it off, but apparently I am not allowed to move a finger. Would you help me out here?”
I stared at him for a moment, trying to understand how he had ended up in this situation. Eventually, I explained to the guard who he was and that it was fine to release him. Reluctantly, the guard let go and Sam shot him a nasty look as he pulled off the wig.
The guard walked away, muttering under his breath.
“These celebrities are fucking crazy,” was all we could distinctly make out. He spoke a bit louder to the receptionist. I looked at Sam, shook my head, and we both giggled.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, giving him a quick hug.
“I’m asking myself that very question right now,” he joked. “Basically, to make it short, I have to go back to London soon, but I didn’t want to leave without seeing you again. I made a promise, so…” he explained.
I nodded and giggled. “Why did you wear this?”
“Because…” he said as if it were obvious. “I didn’t want any reporters following me and publishing tomorrow that I was going to rehab. Everyone would have thought I went nuts again.”
“Thank you very much,” I said, pursing my lips.
“No offense,” he teased.
“None taken,” I smiled. “But after this, I might just ask if they have a room available for you. You really know how to stay anonymous,” I said with a laugh.
“Well, I’m still gay, aren’t I?” he laughed.
“You should have worn a dress too while you were at it!”
“Yeah, and high heels! But then they would have known it was me,” he joked.
“This is the first funny thing that’s happened since I’ve been here,” I said. “So, thank you for that.”
“You’re very welcome. I’m glad I made you laugh.”
I walked back to my room with him, which was really a private suite, complete with a sitting room, kitchenette, and bedroom. Sam looked around for a moment, taking it all in, and I asked if he wanted something to drink.
“There’s iced tea, Diet Coke, orange juice, or apple juice,” I offered.
“A Diet Coke is fine,” he said. I grabbed a bottle for him and poured myself a glass of iced tea. We settled into the armchairs.
“So, tell me, why are you here?” I asked. “You could’ve just given me a call.”
“I was in the neighborhood,” he joked with a shrug, then added more seriously, “I finished recording my album. I have to hand it over soon… but to be honest, I’m really curious to see what we’d write together, and I don’t want to have any regrets. I know it might be a bit soon for you… maybe…” he said.
I smiled and shook my head. “It’s not.”
“No?” he asked, eyes lighting up. “Are you allowed to get out of here? Is it as hard to get out as it is to get in?”
I laughed. “I haven’t tried leaving yet, but I’m sure I can manage a few hours away each day.”
“That’d be great if you could,” he said with a smile.
“It’s funny you came today. I saw an old performance of yours on TV last night and thought about calling you.”
“Did you?”
“Yeah, you were singing ‘Stay With Me’ on the Letterman Show,” I said, then joked, “Have you swallowed your album?”
He laughed and leaned closer, whispering, “Don’t tell anyone, but I have.”
I lightly shook my head, smiling. “You sounded exactly the same. How do you do that?”
“Oh, you don’t exactly need auto-tune either. I just stay still, I don’t run around the stage like you do,” he teased.
“Would you like to have dinner here?” I asked. “I’m kind of hungry.” It was only six, but I always got hungry after a swim.
“Yeah, sure. So am I.”
I showed him the room service menu and he quickly chose. Just as he finished, his phone buzzed.
“Sorry, I have to take this,” he said, glancing at the screen.
“That’s fine,” I replied. He stepped onto the terrace outside while I placed our dinner order. I went to my bedroom to change into a t-shirt and joggers.
When I came back, he had finished his call. He was sitting on the floor by the coffee table, wearing glasses he seldom used. I sat next to him, and soon I was rolling on the floor laughing as he recounted his ‘arrest’ in the lobby.
“She was like, ‘We can’t tell you who’s staying here, but if you give me your name, I can check the list.’ So I gave her my name and said you weren’t expecting me. Then this other guy goes, ‘You’re Sam Smith?’”
“He didn’t believe you?” I asked, laughing at his delivery.
“No!” he exclaimed. “That’s when I realized I was still wearing my sunglasses. I took them off, but apparently that wasn’t enough.”
“They must have thought you were a total nutcase pretending to be Sam Smith!” I laughed.
“Yeah, they probably did. She goes, ‘Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to leave,’” he said in a mock-threatening tone. “The guard started walking up to me. I was about to remove the wig, but he grabbed my arms to force me out. I said, ‘No, wait, wait! This is just a disguise. I really am Sam Smith! Go ask him, he knows me.’”
By this point, we were both laughing our asses off.
“Oh shit,” I said, wiping my eyes and trying to regain my composure.
We kept talking as our dinner was delivered a few minutes later. I walked back to the coffee table after the server left, and we began eating while still sitting on the floor.
“So, seriously,” he asked after a moment, “how’s this place working out for you? Have they concluded you were nuts, or is there still hope for you?”
“It seems I can still be saved,” I joked, then added more seriously, “It’s been good. I think it’s everything I needed it to be.”
“I’m happy to hear that. You look well rested,” he said, watching me with a small, attentive smile.
“I am,” I said.
“Have you been working out?” he asked, a playful glint in his eyes.
“Are you flirting with me?” I smirked at him.
“Nah. Don’t get your hopes up. I’ve started seeing someone.”
“Ouch,” I protested, narrowing my eyes.
“Yeah, that’s right. I’m rejecting you,” he nodded with a grin. “I bet that’s never happened to you before.”
I shrugged lightly. “I did get dumped by my own boyfriend, so…”
He hissed softly. “Sorry. He didn’t exactly dump you, though,” he said, more gently.
I nodded, then asked, genuinely curious, “So… who’s the lucky guy?”
“Have you watched 13 Reasons Why?” he asked.
“Yeah. I watched the first three episodes, I think. Just to see what the fuss was about.”
“He plays Justin. Brandon Flynn.”
“Oh yeah,” I said, smiling as I placed the face. “He’s cute.”
“Yeah, he’s lovely,” he said, smiling too, already looking a little lovestruck. “I think it might turn into something serious.”
“That’s great. I’m really happy for you. I didn’t know he was gay.”
“He sort of just came out on Instagram.”
“Is that how we all do it now?” I joked, and he chuckled.
“We met a few weeks ago, and I decided to call him back. It’s time I start looking for love,” he admitted. “I’m so tired of relationships that can’t go anywhere because of my job. I want something real,” he continued. “Someone I can trust. Someone I can be seen with in public.”
“Yeah, I understand. It’s important to have that, someone to support you.”
He nodded. “Now, if I start dating someone, I want to make sure it’s really serious before I let the fans know. I want someone who’s right for me. I’ve been disappointed too many times.”
“So, you’re done with one-night stands?” I joked.
“I hope so,” he chuckled. “I get emotionally attached too easily,” he admitted with a small smile. “I want to close this chapter of my life where I give myself to guys who are never going to love me back.”
I pursed my lips, knowing I’d been one of those guys.
“Have you talked to Mark?” he asked hesitantly.
“Yeah, we talked on the phone once when I got here,” I replied, nodding. “But we haven’t called each other since. Talking just makes it harder to be apart… but I know what he’s up to, he knows what I’m up to… and we’ve texted. I know we’re going to be okay,” I said, forcing a tight smile.
“Did you tell him…” he began cautiously.
I shook my head. “No. I didn’t want to tell him over the phone,” I admitted, apprehensive. “And he didn’t either. I think we may have both messed up a little,” I shrugged. “We didn’t want to go into details. We’ll have to work it out together.”
He nodded, understanding.
“But for now, there’s still stuff I need to work on before we can see each other again. I want to finish what I’ve started, and he wants me to as well.”
“Well, if you need me to talk to him, I’m totally okay with that,” he offered.
“No, it shouldn’t come to that,” I said firmly.
He eyed me suspiciously. “Overly confident, aren’t we?”
“No, but I know him. He won’t overreact… but still,” I admitted, frustrated with myself. “I cheated on him, and I feel really shitty about it,” I sighed heavily.
“Fuck. I’d hate to be responsible for making things worse. I’m really sorry,” he said again, genuinely apologetic.
“Stop. You didn’t do anything wrong,” I reassured him. “I’m the one who messed up. I really hate myself sometimes,” I added quietly. “I never wanted to hurt him, but I keep putting myself in situations that are bad for our relationship.”
Sam tilted his head slightly. “Don’t be too hard on yourself. No one’s perfect. Shit happens,” he said gently. “And just so you know, I don’t usually do that anymore… but you’re a bit hard to resist.”
We fell silent for a moment, eating, until he finally asked,
“So, tell me about this place.”
I took a slow breath and explained what I’d done, the therapists I had talked to. “I realize now that having the kind of success we had, barely out of adolescence, I never really got to figure out what I wanted for myself. Everything was decided for me in a way… and even as much as I wanted it, there was no escaping it. Add being gay on top of that, and the fame… it changes you in ways you don’t see at first.”
“Yeah, it does,” he said. “Although, in retrospect, you did a lot better than me. It took you three albums to start losing your mind. I lost mine right after the first one.”
I chuckled and nodded, oddly proud.
“That’s just because I had Mark. He kept me grounded… until even he wasn’t enough. We always believed that as long as we had each other, we’d be fine. But damn,” I said, shaking my head slightly.
“Yeah,” he nodded. “That’s how tough it is. I took a really long break between my albums because I was completely lost. Having time away from this job is so important. Just living your life. Doing boring things. Being with your family and friends, like anyone our age.” He paused, then added more honestly, “Now, to be fair, I don’t think I want to take that long of a break again. I’m twenty‑five and I want to release music now. But I do think the media and the fans need to understand that we need that time.”
“Yeah,” I agreed. “I think we’re going to have to disappear again for a few months. Lock ourselves in a studio and do nothing else. That’s what we did when we wrote our third album, and it was so much better, and healthier.”
He nodded slowly, then looked at me more carefully.
“Since you’ve been here… have you ever thought that maybe this job just isn’t for you?”
I thought about it for a moment.
“No,” I said quietly. “I still love it. I know I can do it. But yeah… there were times when I felt like giving it all up. Like maybe I wasn’t good enough. Like maybe I didn’t deserve it.”
“I’ve felt like that too. Many times. I love music, and I want it to always be about music, but I quickly realized that with this job comes all the other stuff. I’m so nervous to go back right now. It’s going to be mad. I don’t think it’s hit me yet.”
“Yeah! You’re in for a shock. People are expecting a lot from you.”
“I know. Oh my god,” he said, covering his mouth, “I’m so scared. I might freak out soon.”
“Do you need a room here, seriously?” I teased again.
“Maybe I should, before my big comeback!” he laughed. “No, but seriously, I’m so glad people still want to listen to my music. I’m ready for it.”
“Enjoy it as much as you can. I think I’m more prepared now too. As much as I thought I was before… I never really was.”
“Yeah, you became successful overnight, just like I did. It takes a bit of getting used to.”
“When our first album went to number one, I should’ve been prepared mentally to deal with it. They should give lessons on how to be famous before you actually are,” I said with a laugh.
“Totally,” he agreed. “There should be lessons! It’s a lot to wrap your head around. Not just the fame, but the traveling, the sleep deprivation when you’re touring and promoting…”
“Probably the hardest part,” I added.
“But that’s what they’re helping you with here, right?”
“Yeah. I think I finally figured out how I want to live my life despite being famous and having this job. I have to stop using it as an excuse. I can’t change the past, but I can make sure I don’t ruin the future.”
“Sounds like you have it all figured out,” he said with a smile.
“I’m getting there,” I nodded. “I refuse to become one of those people who’s never happy. It’s just so lame. Oh, and I’ve stopped drinking completely. Not that I was an alcoholic, but I realized I wasn’t drinking for fun anymore. That was making me unhappy, even though I have no reason to be. I have a great life; it’s time to really enjoy it again.”
“I’m glad you’re feeling this way.”
“Yeah. I feel calm now. I’m starting to feel ready to do it all over again. I want to, I even miss being on stage. I think about playing stadiums.”
“Oh my god, playing stadiums. I’m so hungry for this. Wembley stadium…” he said dreamily.
“You’ve got to do it!” I told him.
“Yeah,” he said apprehensively. “It scares me, but I want it so badly. But… the people have to want to come.”
“They will. You’ll get there,” I assured him, certain he would.
“I hope I will.”
“It was our dream too… and it was amazing. Croke Park, Glastonbury… surreal.”
He nodded, thinking. “For me, it was when I was fifteen and saw George Michael open Wembley Stadium. I thought, I want to be on that stage one day.”
“Yeah,” I nodded, “for us it was U2 in Croke Park. We were fifteen too.”
I thought of something and added, “I’m working on my voice in here. They brought in this amazing teacher. I’ve had a few lessons already.”
He asked questions, and we talked for a moment, then he asked, “So how long do they want you to stay?”
“Probably two or three more weeks, maybe a month. I’m not sure,” I shrugged.
He smiled. “You look a lot happier.”
“Yeah, I am. There’s just one huge thing missing.”
He looked at me keenly. “The time you’re taking now is really important. Mark knows that, or he wouldn’t have made you come here.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“So,” he smiled, “I gather you’re ready to get him back.”
I looked him in the eye and nodded. “Yeah, I’m ready as hell. Shouldn’t be too hard, but yes.”
He giggled, raising his eyebrows. “Tomorrow? Can you?”
“I’m Robbie Myers. I can do whatever I want!” I joked. “And I want to do this!”
“Alright, can’t wait!
We finished eating and hung out for a couple of hours. I showed him the notepad where I’d been scribbling lyrics, and a few song ideas began to take shape. I already had a clear vision of what I wanted to create with Sam. I didn’t want to write a U-N-I song with him, even though one had crossed my mind. I had decided that whatever we wrote together wouldn’t be for the band—I’d let him have it. I only wanted Mark to hear it, not the whole world.
I knew I had to do something special for him, some kind of grand gesture. I wanted to write and sing a song that let my heart and my love for him pour out, a song that made him certain I would always be there for him. I needed him to feel how grateful I was to have him in my life, to be a part of his.
He probably needed to be completely reassured that I still wanted him and the life we had built together. And of course, I did, more than ever. I knew we could still accomplish so much together, and I wasn’t going to let anything ruin the amazing future we could have. There were countless reasons why I didn’t want to lose him, but one stood out above the rest: he was the only person in my life who could truly challenge me. I loved that about him… about us.
We pushed each other forward, challenged each other, and worked together to chase our dreams. I admired his strength and determination, his practicality and rationality, qualities that often contrasted with my own personality. Yet, despite our differences, we complemented each other perfectly. And now, I was genuinely excited to see what the future held for us, knowing he felt the same.
-----
When we’d talked on the phone, I’d been at the rehab center for about a week.
He first texted me:
"Is it ok to call you today? I really need to talk to you."
I didn’t reply immediately. As soon as I read his message, I returned to my room and called him.
"Hey, are you alright?" I asked when he picked up, worried about him.
"Yeah, I’m fine," he murmured. I could hear a faint smile in his voice. "I just really wanted to talk to you."
"Are you still in Dublin?" I asked, still concerned.
"Yeah," he replied simply, and there was a pause, as if he wanted to say more but wasn’t sure how.
"Look," he spoke with a soft sigh, "I know you just got there, and I don’t want to mess up what you’ve started working on… but I just… really miss you… It’s so good to hear your voice again."
I wasn’t sure if it was the worry in his message or the emotion in his voice, but I felt tears welling in my eyes. Swallowing the lump in my throat, I whispered,
"I miss you too… so much."
"Hey, don’t cry," he said, almost on the verge of tears himself. I took a moment to compose myself.
"My god," I sighed, "it feels like I haven’t seen you in months."
“Yeah, I know, baby,” he said, his voice soft. “It’s hard for me too… but I’m so glad you decided to go.”
“You were waiting for me to get here before calling, weren’t you?”
He let out an exaggerated sigh. “It took you for-ever,” he said, pretending to be frustrated.
I laughed lightly. “I didn’t think you’d stay mad at me this long. I was hoping you’d miss me and come home.”
“Oh, I know… and I almost did,” he admitted.
“Damn! You mean I came here too soon?” I teased.
He chuckled. “Shut up! I’m not saying I would’ve caved. I’m usually way more stubborn than you are.”
“Well, I was really angry with you!” I shot back.
After a moment, he asked cautiously, “Are you… still?”
“I don’t know… I guess not,” I admitted. “But seriously, what made you think you could survive without me for this long?”
He paused.
"I figured I'd just have to jerk off a lot," he said, half-jokingly.
"Asshole."
He let out a small chuckle;
"If you think you were angry with me, trust me," he said quietly, "that was nothing compared to how mad I was at you. I wasn’t about to sit back and watch you turn into a cokehead."
"It wouldn’t have come to that," I protested weakly, but the lie caught in my throat.
"Are you seriously still arguing with me about this?" he asked. "It would’ve happened again. You know it. Just admit it."
I closed my eyes and sighed. There was no point pretending anymore, not with him.
"Fine," I said softly. "I would’ve."
"Thank you," he answered, just as softly. Not relieved exactly, more like grateful that I’d finally stopped lying.
After a few seconds, I added,
"you know, in Amsterdam… it really was Jordan’s idea. Why aren’t you more mad at him?"
"Because it’s Jordan," he said simply, like that explained everything.
"So?" I scoffed. "He does the same stupid shit I do. But somehow he always gets away with it."
He sniggered.
"Maybe it’s because I don’t worry about him the way I worry about you," he said. "Or maybe…" he hesitated for just a second, "maybe I don’t love him the way I love you."
"Oh, please," I replied, even though I knew that while it wasn’t romantic, he loved him just as fiercely as a friend.
"I don’t know… when Jordan says he won’t do it again, I believe him."
I smirked, though he couldn’t see it. "Alright. I get your point."
There was a brief silence before he spoke again, his voice was quieter.
"I'm sorry I was a jerk and left you to deal with your problems alone."
The sincerity in his voice was unmistakable. I knew he’d probably make the same choice again if it came down to it, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t hurting over it, didn’t mean he hadn’t hated forcing my hand.
"Come on," I said softly. "We both know I wouldn’t have dealt with them at all. Not properly. I would’ve just let everything get worse." I sighed. "And it’s not like you made that decision alone. I know you weren’t the only one trying to shake me awake."
"I just didn’t know what else to do to make you understand," he said. "You couldn’t keep going like that."
"I know," I admitted. "I just didn’t want to listen. It was easier to pretend nothing was wrong." My voice faltered slightly. "I hate being without you… but I get why you had to walk away from that self-destructive, stupid version of me."
“That’s not who you are,” he said immediately.
“No,” I agreed quietly. “It’s not.”
There was a pause, then he sighed.
“But I’m sorry,” he said again. “I never wanted us to break up. I was just… angry. Hurt. Scared.”
“Are you saying you’re over it now?” I asked, hopeful but still afraid to trust it.
“Maybe,” he replied honestly. “Look, I just want you to find better ways to cope when the pressure starts crushing you. Even if things spiral again. I just want us back. Back to when it was easy and fun, and exciting. When you weren’t struggling just to get through it.” He breathed. “You know drinking or drugs aren’t the answer. I don’t want the guy I fell in love with to disappear.”
“I won’t disappear,” I murmured. “I know I have to be more careful. I can’t keep expecting you to watch over me, making sure I don’t get fucking smashed,” I exhaled slowly. “I’ve learned my lesson.”
“I hope you have,” he said softly.
“I don’t want us to take what we have for granted. Remember what Bono keeps telling us, not to think that we’ve arrived, that there’s always more to do, more to discover… that we shouldn’t be scared to let our fears and insecurities fuel our work.”
“He’s the wise one.” I smiled faintly. “Mark, you know how much the band means to me. It makes me exist, in a way. I don’t want to lose that, and I definitely don’t want to lose you. I just… got a little lost.”
“I know, baby.” His voice softened. “So how is it going so far? Do you like the place?”
“Yeah, it’s nice. They’ve got a pool and a gym, I don’t need much more,” I joked weakly. Then, more honestly, “It’s gonna be good for me to take this time. I just wish you were here with me.”
“Rob, it wouldn’t help you if I were,” he said gently. “You need to do what you have to do. We’ll see each other in a few weeks.”
He sounded calm, reassuring, but I could hear it underneath, the part of him that didn’t want to wait either.
“It already feels like forever,” I complained, making sure he could how frustrated I was.
“I know,” he sighed. “And I want to be with you so bad right now. I really do. Fuck, don’t get me started, it’s killing me. I think about you all the time.” His voice dropped. “But you know you need to do this on your own, for now. If I were there, I’d just distract you.”
“God,” I breathed, “I just want to be with you again.”
“Don’t…,” he protested unconvincingly, knowing I was trying to convince him to come to L.A, although it was unreasonable for now.
“I just want to hold you,” I went on in a deep and mellow voice. “I want to curl up against you… kiss you everywhere… take my time with you. I miss everything about you - everything.”
He let out a chuckle.
“Don’t tell me you haven’t put those toys we bought in Amsterdam to good use,” he teased. “I should’ve taken them with me.”
I chuckled too, because of course I had tried them. We did have a few sex toys that we seldom used to spice things up, but you can never really have enough of those to try.
“That cock ring plug is… interesting,” I said, deliberately cheeky. “But yeah, it definitely doesn’t replace you.”
He giggled, and I could picture the grin I loved so much.
“Alright then,” he said, lowering his voice in return. “Maybe I’ll send you a few pictures later. Give you something to look forward to.”
The thought alone made me smile. “That sounds fun,” I murmured. “Fuck… I should’ve come here sooner. I’m such an idiot.”
"Yeah, you are," he joked. "But lucky for you, it doesn't make me love you any less… I've got you under my skin, deep in the heart of me… why should I try to resist?" He said, quoting Sinatra.
I smiled, remembering how my father had loved the Rat Pack, how those songs had always been part of my childhood. "Yeah. And I'd sacrifice anything, come what might, for the sake of having you near…" I added, quoting along with him.
He took a deep breath and let it out. "I love you."
"I love you too," I whispered.
He fell silent for a moment, then whispered,
"There's… something I have to tell you."
I understood what he meant, but I told him immediately that whatever it was, I didn’t want to talk about it over the phone. After everything with Sam, I wasn’t ready to hear it. And honestly, I was terrified it might involve Damien. Just the thought made my chest tighten. Jordan had told me Damien had tried and been rejected, but knowing he’d even seen him again was enough to make my stomach churn. Imagining them together, even for a second, was painful. Luckily, the fear of him leaving me for Damien wasn’t going to come true.
I tried to hint that I’d made mistakes too, that we’d need to talk everything through when we were together. Despite it all, I knew our feelings for each other were strong enough to survive our mistakes. I just wanted to put all this behind us. I hated myself for the promises I’d broken, the lies, the cheating, the moments I’d hurt him. It wasn’t like me, and I knew I needed to get my head straight and finally stop sabotaging us.
"Mark, you went to see your mother, didn't you?"
He let out a huff,
"Yeah, last Saturday."
"Tell me about it. How'd it go?" I asked.
"Better than expected," he replied, his voice quiet, almost surprised by his own answer.
"Really?" I said with relief.
"Yeah. It was kinda therapeutic. Rachel thought talking to her again would lift a weight off my shoulders I didn't even know was there… and she was right. It really did."
"What'd you talk about?"
"Honestly… you know how she is, we didn't talk that much… just… she cried, I cried… she apologized, I apologized…," he said in a monotonous tone.
"What did you have to apologize for?"
"For leaving and never looking back."
"You had every right to do that," I said softly.
"Yeah, I suppose. But that's just the way she is. Maybe it's time I just accept it. She'll never be the mother I would’ve liked her to be. And she did apologize. For everything. For never telling me that James wasn't my father, for letting him treat me like shit, for letting me stay at your place all the time and not taking care of me the way she should have… honestly, I didn't put any blame on her. I just let her say what she had to say. I think that's really all I needed, an apology from her."
He fell silent, and I was about to speak when he went on,
"Fuck… at some point, she said she should have put me up for adoption when I was born. That I would've been happier."
"Fuck," I breathed out. "I'm sorry, babe."
"I know she meant it as some sort of apology, but fuck… I don't think she realized how painful that was to hear, coming from her."
All I could think about was holding him, feeling the weight of his hurt against me, wanting to ease it somehow.
"I guess we should be thankful that she didn't," I said quietly.
"Yeah. That's what I found myself telling her. I ended up reassuring her, telling her I was glad she hadn't… that I was happy with my life…"
I heard him sigh.
"I wish I could be with you right now."
"It's okay. Don't worry. It wasn't all bad. After that, she started telling me how proud she was too… that God had a plan for me, or whatever. She said she knew everything they had put me through, but she had no idea how to fix things because she thought it was too late… that she didn't deserve my forgiveness."
He paused. "She said some pretty heavy stuff."
"Does she know you found your father?"
"No, I didn't tell her. I think she might just have passed out!"
I snorted. "What about us? How does she feel about us?"
He let out a small laugh, tinged with awkwardness. "You know what? We didn't mention it once. She kept asking me how Rachel was doing. It was, Rachel this, and Rachel that… as if she was hoping that maybe I just went through a phase or something. And because she lives with us, I think she's still hoping I might marry her someday. It's like… she knows I'm gay, but she won't acknowledge it… and I didn't want to press the issue."
I chuckled softly, shaking my head. "One thing at a time."
"Yeah," he said, a little sigh slipping out. "I know I can only accept her the way she is and forgive her mistakes. I should have made more of an effort to stay in touch with her after we moved to London."
"Why? So they'd continue to hurt you over and over again?" I asked gently, not wanting to sound harsh.
"I don't know… but I think I'm ready to forgive her now," he said.
"Well, that's good if you are. I don't want you to still be hurt over this."
"I'm not," he said. "It probably made me stronger in a way."
"It did," I agreed.
"Yeah. And then after I left, Jordan found a great way to cheer me up!" he exclaimed happily.
"Oh my god, what'd he do?" I asked with curiosity.
"Well, we kept talking about it in New York, so… he decided on a whim that we should go buy a new car!"
"A new car?" I asked sceptically, raising an eyebrow. We owned too many cars, in my opinion, but I couldn’t help smiling at his excitement.
"Yep! The bastard kept singing Kelly Clarkson 'What doesn't kill you makes you stronger' in the car for like an hour," he said, exasperation in his voice. "I almost did kill him."
We let out a small laugh together.
"For an hour? Where did you go? Was there traffic or something?"
"No," he simply answered, voice calm.
"I don't get it," I said, shaking my head.
He giggled. "We did sign the paperwork in Dublin, but first, we went to Mondello Park for a test drive."
I gasped, my eyes widening. "Oh my god, I think I’ve figured it out," I said.
"Yep, that's right!" he said, sounding elated.
"You did not buy a Ferrari!" I exclaimed, shocked. He’d always wanted one but thought that was maybe a bit too much.
He chuckled happily. "Oh, but we did!"
I shook my head, kind of staggered. "Fuckin' unbelievable! … Red?"
"Of course. Is there any other kind? You're gonna have to teach me how to show off properly now!" he said.
I laughed, shaking my head. "No, no, you leave that to me! See what happens when you hang out with Jordan for too long," I joked.
"To be fair, it was always my idea to buy one," he said.
"When are you ever going to drive it?"
"Just a technicality… whatever. I'll just stare at it and pamper it. But believe it or not, this model is really designed for the road, you can use it every day, and it’s really comfortable."
"How much?" I asked, a mixture of disbelief and curiosity in my voice.
"300K…" he said with a wince, or so it seemed, almost sheepish.
"On a car?"
"Well, it's the latest one, 812 Superfast. It's the fastest and most powerful yet," he explained cheerily, as if the price tag didn’t even matter.
"Jeez," I shook my head, smiling, still a little stunned.
"But once you get to sit in the car and drive it… there’s just no way you’re not gonna buy it. It's so fuckin' thrilling! I don’t think you can get that euphoria from any lesser car."
"Yeah, they know that. That's called a good sales technique!"
"Dude, seriously! It was just so incredible. It's like a religious experience!"
His excitement made me grin. "You're crazy," I said with a laugh, shaking my head.
"Now, we're gonna have to go back on tour to pay for this," he joked.
"Oh," I said with a nod, "I see what you're doing!"
"Yeah. I never should've watched Days Of Thunder so many times as a kid," he added with a laugh.
"Well, we've watched Top Gun as many times too. I hope you don't wanna fly a fucking aircraft now!" I teased.
He laughed. "I'd love to be Goose, though."
"He dies!" I exclaimed.
"You know what I mean."
"Yeah, totally… and I'll be Maverick," I said.
"Fuck. Driving it was like… the best feeling ever. You go from zero to sixty miles per hour in just 2.9 seconds, it’s so good… and the sound!" he exclaimed. "It’s like a Formula One fantasy."
"Jesus, you're gonna kill yourself!"
"No, no, no… Cole Trickle doesn’t die. I can handle a supercar!" he stated confidently. "You and Jordan, however… I might not even let you drive it!"
"Now you're evil… I don’t really care that much, though," I said, voice lowering, playful and teasing. "Right now, the only thing I wanna ride…" I let the pause stretch just long enough, "…is your dick."
He let out the cutest, surprised laugh. Clearly, he hadn’t expected that.
"Oh my god…" he said slowly. "Your perfect ass just flashed before my eyes."
I smiled, leaning back slightly, enjoying the effect.
"Yeah, that happens to me all the time," I said, flirtatiously.
"Dammit," he breathed out. "Alright, keep talking," he responded, barely containing the desire in his voice.
I went to lie down on the couch, phone pressed to my ear, and murmured as I closed my eyes,
"Mmm, babe… just the thought of you makes me hard as hell. I want you like you wouldn’t imagine."
There was a brief pause on the line before he answered, quieter now.
"Same here. I want you so bad. I’m so horny for you all the time."
A familiar tingling spread through me as I listened to him. I almost suggested FaceTime, but stopped myself, seeing him without being able to touch him would only make it worse. This felt slower, more sensual.
"Damn," I sighed, "so am I... I wanna touch you, it's been too long."
"I wish you could," he murmured. "I miss your hands and your lips on me."
"Fuck," I breathed out, my voice rougher as I pictured him. "I wanna feel your arms, and your chest, and your gorgeous stomach… and your ass, god, your ass," I added with a low moan.
I reached down and began rubbing my cock before pulling my cargo shorts and underwear down a little. I grasped my erection and gave it a few tugs, all the while picturing him slowly stroking himself. He kept telling me how much he wanted me, how hard he was for me. My dick tingled and I began stroking myself as I listened to him.
"Babe, I can't wait to take you in my mouth," he said. "I wanna suck hard on your dick, it tastes so delicious."
"Mmm, yeah baby, you can work my dick like a champ. I wanna feel you deep in my mouth too," I told him, "I swear, I'm gonna give you the best blowjob I've ever given you."
He let out a giggle and asked seductively,
"How much better can you get?"
"Well, with that vibrating cock ring… " I said cheekily.
"Right!" he exclaimed. I kept talking dirty to him and after a moment, he let out a deep breath,
"Man, I’m so ready to bust, just thinking about it… god, there's nothing like the feeling of your tongue working my cock."
"Yeah, I'm gonna take your throbbing cock in my mouth and make you empty your balls down my throat. I want your cum…so…fuckin'…bad."
"Mmm baby…. Can I pound you sexy muscular ass first? I bet you're as tight as ever!"
"Hell yeah, you can, it's all yours."
"Yeah. And I'll rim you first and drive you nuts with my tongue. I wanna hear you moan and beg for it."
"Oh yeah, I'll beg for it. I fucking love feeling your tongue, it's so good. You know how much I dig that shit."
"Yeah, I'm gonna give you the best rimjob before I fuck you just the way you like it!"
"Oh fuck, Mark, I need to feel you in me!" I moaned with a sense of desperation, " How long am I gonna have to wait?"
"I've no idea. But it's gonna be mind-blowing when I do fuck you again! … Oh jeez, I'm leaking so bad," he said with a moan.
"Yeah, make yourself cum baby, don't hold back."
For a few minutes, we continued talking dirty to each other, mainly about him fucking me in every possible position, until I started telling him that I wanted to take his gorgeous ass too.
"Your skin," I moaned. "I wanna taste your skin, it smells just like you and I love it. I can't wait to eat you out baby, god I just can't wait. I'm gonna eat your perfect ass and then hold you so tight while I fuck you deep from behind…"
"Oh shit, you're gonna make me cum."
"Yeah, that's the idea…"
"Fuck, Rob, I love it so much when you fuck me, you feel so good inside me, I can practically feel it! You have the best dick!"
"Yeah baby, fuck I love you. I swear, I'll drive you wild with pleasure and make you shoot so hard, you'll be dizzy. And then I'll shoot inside of you so you can feel every drop of my jizz seed up your ass."
I began pounding my shaft and listened to the noises he was making as he enjoyed his orgasm. That did it for me, I felt my cum building up and I gasped as my body convulsed and ropes of cum began shooting out of me. My orgasm was powerful because I could sense how intense his was too. It was just so good to feel connected to him again.
"Fuck, that was awesome," he moaned after a short moment.
I grinned,
"Hang on a second," I said before I used my phone to take a picture of my chest, focusing more on my abs and dick, streaked with my cum, and I send it to him.
"Holy shit, that's hot!" he replied once he received it,
"You're fucking gorgeous. Now I want you even more. Why did I leave?" he whined.
"I don't have a fuckin' clue!" I joked.
He laughed and took the same picture of himself … which I jerked off to a few times during the following days.
We stayed on the phone without really saying anything for a few minutes, just listening to each other’s breaths.
He broke the silence, his voice low, almost a whisper.
"I'm leaving for Paris in a couple of days."
"Aren't you going home first?" I asked.
"No."
"Are you nervous?" I pressed gently.
"Not really. It's gonna feel like a vacation," he replied, clearly excited about it.
"I can't wait to know how it goes," I said softly.
"Yeah. If it goes well, we'll go back together. I want you to meet him too."
"Sure," I murmured. "Does Rachel still want to go with you?"
"Yeah. We're gonna meet in Paris and rent a car there."
"Alright," I said, nodding even though he couldn’t see me. "I thought she'd want to stay in London."
"Why?"
"No reason."
"Do you know something that I don't?" he asked, curiosity clear in his voice. "Is it because of Dammo?"
I smiled, a little amused. "Oh, so you do know something!"
"Not really, actually. What do you know?"
I hesitated for a moment, wondering if I should tell him, but he seemed to know more than I’d thought.
"They’ve totally started dating," I said slyly, letting the tease linger in my tone.
"Really?" he asked, caught off guard.
"Yeah, Rachel told Alicia all about it, who told Dylan, and then Dylan couldn’t keep his mouth shut, so he told me."
"I can't believe she hasn't told me yet. When did that happen?"
I let out a soft giggle. "Right after he came home, I think."
"Oh my god, I'm gonna have so much fun with this!" he exclaimed mischievously.
"Come on, go easy on her," I said, laughing. "It’s understandable that she wouldn’t want to tell you."
"Why? I'm totally cool with this! I think that's great for them."
"Yeah, it is. It’s a bit weird though… I get how they must have all felt when we got together," I said with a laugh, shaking my head at the memory.
"Yeah, especially with me turning gay all of a sudden!"
"Oh, God!" I said with a laugh. "They’re gonna get married and make babies. So weird."
"We're getting old," he sighed. "Jordan is now officially the seventh wheel," he joked.
I laughed, shaking my head. "He's gonna love it."
We kept talking about it for a few more minutes, the conversation drifting easily between jokes and quiet amusement. And before ending the call, we both agreed to text each other if something important came up, but to try not to call again for a while, at least not until we could actually be together.
Letting go felt strange, but it also felt right.
---
After I saw Sam again, I started leaving the centre in the late afternoons and heading into the studio with him for writing sessions. I think, at that point, he was the best person I could possibly write with, and the safest person to walk back into a studio with. Even though I was feeling a lot better about doing this job and genuinely wanted to write for the band again, Mark was still too close to me. I loved him too much to be able to write a song about us with him there. I needed the distance. I needed to do it without him.
For the first couple of days, Sam and I mostly just hung out. We sang a few songs, talked, and listened to his album together. He told me the stories behind his songs, and so many of his lyrics rang true to me. I could relate to them deeply - almost uncomfortably so. One song in particular, Midnight Train, hit close to home. Listening to it, I told him that I felt Mark could have written almost the exact same lyrics. It was uncanny how similar some of our experiences were.
Another song, Burning, stood out too. In it, he talked about fame, about feeling sad and depressed, and about losing control of himself. The line “Blame it on rebellion, don’t blame it on me” summed up perfectly what we had both been going through - trying to rebel against something we couldn’t quite control, slowly losing ourselves, and losing the person we loved along the way.
All of his songs were amazing. At one point, he asked me what I thought of one in particular, called One Last Song. It was about the guy he had written his first album about, and he admitted that he felt like it could still be improved.
So the very first thing we did together was work on that song. We took our time with it, digging into the emotion behind it, trying to make the final version deeper and more honest. We ended up changing an entire verse, shaping it into something that felt heavier, more vulnerable, like it finally said what it was supposed to say.
We changed a whole verse that became,
'In case you hear this, Then know you're the love of my life, Want to tell you I'm sorry, I miss having you by my side, When you were mine…"
Then after a few days, we began playing together. He started by playing a melody on the piano, which I instantly loved, and I picked up the guitar, throwing in ideas for lyrics as they came to me. It felt really good to start creating music again.
We weren’t sure if we’d be able to write anything good together, because we both knew that sometimes, going into the studio with someone you liked didn’t mean it was going to work out. But it did. We connected, pretty much in the same way Mark and I did. It just worked, naturally and without effort.
At some point, I found myself humming the melody I had recorded with Dylan, since it was still stuck in my head. He asked me what it was, so I just played it for him. Before long, we had a beat, and we started writing. The song took shape really quickly, almost effortlessly, and we totally smashed it.
I knew I might have to improve it once I was back in London, but it already felt almost finished. I called it Magic, and I knew right away it would be on our next album.
Call it magic
Call it true
Call it magic
When I'm with you
And I just got broken
Broken into two
Still I call it magic
When I'm next to you …
-----
And if you were to ask me
After all that we've been through
Still believe in magic?
Oh yes I do
Of course I do
Then we wrote a song together and called it Lay Me Down, and it was exactly what I wanted, beautiful, sad, emotional, and powerful. As soon as it was finished, I told him he could record it himself and put it on his album if he wanted to, which he did, mentioning in the album booklet that he’d written it with me.
I didn’t mind at all. But for now, I only wanted Mark to hear it.
Yes, I do, I believe
That one day I will be
Where I was right there
Right next to you
-----
Your touch, your skin
Where do I begin?
No words can explain
The way I'm missing you
-----
Can I lay by your side?
Next to you, you
And make sure you're alright
I'll take care of you
I don't want to be here if I can't be with you tonight.
This hurt that I've been through
I'm missing you, missing you like crazy.
------
You told me not to cry when you were gone
But the feeling's overwhelming, it's much too strong …
I sent both songs to Mark and waited for his response. What he did, though, I hadn’t expected.
He shared a picture on the band’s Instagram of the two of us together, captioned:
“You’ve always known how to make my heart skip a beat!” @robbiemyers
I had never seen the picture before, but it instantly brought a smile to my face. We were just kids, about five or six years old. It looked like we were hiding under the kitchen table at his house. He was glancing toward the camera as the picture was taken, and I was leaning into him, my arm wrapped around his shoulder, my lips pressed to his cheek, almost his lips. It looked like we’d just kissed, or were about to. It was ridiculously adorable.
I stared at the picture for a long moment, a rush of emotions washing over me all at once. Then I finally responded, “I have loved you all my life” @markemery
We hadn’t been as active on the band’s Instagram as we usually were. Normally, we shared something almost every day, and the sudden silence had only fueled the fans’ anxiety about a possible split. Jordan and Damon had posted a few times on their own Instagram accounts, but nothing related to the making of the record, obviously. Their posts were personal, snapshots of where they were, what they were listening to, things they liked, harmless, but telling in their own way.
Mark had done the same while he was in New York, posting just enough to suggest that work was still happening, that the band hadn’t fallen apart, even though we still hadn’t announced a new release date. I, however, hadn’t posted anything at all. And more importantly, there hadn’t been any new photos of Mark and me together for quite some time, which the fans knew was highly unusual. We’d always been inseparable in the public eye, and our absence from each other’s feeds hadn’t gone unnoticed.
So when Mark posted that picture, the reaction was immediate and overwhelming. Within hours, the comments multiplied, theories stacking on top of theories. Three million likes and nearly half a million comments later, the fans had reached their verdict, whatever we’d been going through, if there had been something wrong, then we were clearly back together. To them, it meant everything was falling back into place, that a new, incredible album had to be on its way, and that we would inevitably head back on tour - asap.
Watching it all unfold, I couldn’t help but smile. They didn’t know the whole story, not even close, but in a strange way, their certainty felt comforting.
We'd better not disappoint.
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