I’ll Come To You

The little specs in the night sky sparkled like diamonds. 


Standing in the window, Myles William sipped on the amber-colored liquid surrounding the ice ball. 


Lawrence The Band spilled through the speakers, soothing Myles. He’d had a long and exhausting day at work; filled with his hot-tempered boss barking orders, and making messes, and expecting Myles to clean them up.


But alas, the day was done, and it was Friday, so Myles wouldn’t have to see that hot-tempered fuck for another three days. 


Taking another sip from his glass, he took in the starry sky until his phone began to ring. 


“Hey, hey. How’s my favorite insomniac?” He said, pressing the phone to his ear.


Marcus, Myles’s husband, sighed into the phone.


“This bed is fucking trash.” Marcus huffed into the phone.


Myles laughed; Marcus could be sleeping on a literal cloud, and he’d still find something wrong with it. 


Marcus was too proud to admit it, but he hated sleeping alone. Even when he was away, Marcus had a whole host of friends who’d gladly occupy the other side of whatever bed Marcus was sleeping in. 


“Oh the woes of being a touring musician. I found a pretty awesome portable mattress on Amazon. If you’d like, I could send it your way.” Myles said with a laugh. 


The problem wasn’t the bed and Myles knew that, but he couldn’t resist an opportunity to fuck with his husband. 


“Unless you are the one delivering that mattress, hard pass.” He said somberly. 


Oh, shit, he really wasn’t having the best of times; now Myles felt like a dick for teasing him. 


“Ahh babe, I just wanted to have some fun busting your balls. How the hell am I supposed to do that when you’re so sad?” Myles said.


Though he couldn’t see Marcus, the pout on his face was practically audible.


“I hate touring.” He said.


Now that hurt Myles to hear. Myles knew how much his husband adored selling out shows, meeting his adoring supporters, and seeing the country, but Marcus’ in ability to be on the tour bus for extended periods of time, meant that the husbands had to spend a lot of time a part. 


“That’s not true and you and I both know that.” The other man said matter-of-factly.


Marcus sighed into the phone, and Myles could literally hear just how much this all was weighing down on his husband.


“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to make you feel bad about not being here.” Marcus said.


Myles laughed into the phone.


“If that’s your best attempt at making me feel bad, you’re doing a piss poor job at it.” He said.


Marcus laughed, and Myles cursed himself for not being on FaceTime right now. Marcus’ face was like the night sky on the fourth of July when he laughed, and Myles loved to see it.


That gave Myles an idea. It’s been too long; thanks to Marcus’s ‘no FaceTiming’ rule, Myles hadn’t laid eyes on his husband in weeks. According to Marcus, seeing Myles’ face only made him more homesick.


But what if Marcus came to him? When they first started dating, Marcus used to surprise his husband on the road all the time. Marcus would crash on the bus with Myles and his bandmates, and the men would turn the tour into a little vacation, exploring any cities or towns they were in. 


Pulling out his laptop, Myles pulled up the tour schedule and looked up the next city Marcus and the gang was headed to.


It took everything for him not to yell ‘baby I’m on my way’ as he booked the flight while he listened to Myles tell him all about his and the band’s latest adventures. 


By the time Marcus had everything booked, Myles reluctantly said a farewell, needing to head off to rehearsal for the next show. 


After hanging up, Marcus laughed to himself before rushing into the bedroom; his flight was mere hours away so he needed to get packing now.

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