"There shouldn't be too many people here since it's a Saturday," Tess offered as she pushed open the front door with her back. Her hands were full of chocolate malt for Tim and her strawberry shake.

"Great, so we're only walking into a minor scene." My stomach was dropping at the plan that had once seemed so enticing.

The two chocolate malts in my hands sent a throbbing shiver up my arms, but the pain was no match for the zing of Billy's proximity.

"Are you sure they came in today?" I questioned as my mind slipped to us leaving them both behind at Mary's that morning. "Maybe they hung out at Mary's or went to Billy's home studio."

"Nope, they're here. Tim shot me a text when they headed in," Tess said as she snaked through various hallways. "I'm just unsure if they're in the offices or the studios," she admitted.

"Maybe we should go. I have a bad feeling about this." But before I could finish, I heard Billy's gruff voice tumble from a nearby office.

"Ah, they're in the offices," Tess' eyes twinkled as she pushed open an ajar door. "Hey all," her voice was casual. This was normal, her every day. This was the same as me arriving at my office for the day.

I kept my eyes low as I followed her in.

"Hey, babe," Tim greeted before his eyes landed on me. "Okay, Lily is with you."

"We brought malts," Tess offered, as though that would explain why this was a good idea. "Sorry, Dan, I didn't know you were in too," she added.

"You can have my malt. It's chocolate," I offered to the stranger.

"No, that's fine. I'm not a big malt guy," he shrugged. "I'm gonna go work on the titles," he added in a dejected tone as he made his way out of the room.

It was no wonder he left. There was a current of tension in the room, and it didn't seem like my presence had brought all of it. I set Billy's malt on his desk without raising my eyes to meet his.

"So, what are you two up to in the studio on a Saturday?" Tess jabbed at Tim's ribs with an elbow.

"The usual," Tim paused to take a sip of his malt before continuing, "Danny and I were working, and Billy was telling us everything we were doing wrong."

"I offered to do it myself," Billy shot, but in no way did he deny that he had been heavy with the critique.

"What are you working on?" Tess wandered over to Billy's side.

"The cover for Gavin's upcoming release." Billy spread out a few markups as he spoke. "Take a look," he prodded her.

One of Tess' hands fell on Billy's shoulder as she looked over the options. From his chair, he subtly leaned into her waist as he joined her gaze on the photos. I wondered if anyone else noticed how easy it was to see whose opinions Billy valued. Tess' views were undoubtedly appreciated.

"Gavin has such a 90s grungy vibe. These don't do that," Tess noted as she continued to look them over.

"That's what I said." Satisfaction filled Billy's voice.

"That's not what you said. I believe your words were, 'these all look like shit,'" Tim grumbled.

"Honestly, if you take this one of him on the sidewalk, crop it to his crossed ankles and make it black and white, it would be cool for his vibe. It has that throwback feel, but his Converse are so casual that it doesn't feel pretentious." Tess spoke with easy confidence.

"I love that." Billy picked up the photo and circled the sneakers with a red Sharpie.

"Oh, I love that contrast," she added. "You should just scrawl the title over the image in red Sharpie."

"Sometimes, I think the only reason I pay Tim is to keep you around," Billy murmured as he made the title note on the upper corner before picking up his malt and taking a satisfied sip.

"Maybe you should hire her as your art director," the words just fell out of my mouth.

Billy looked at me with an odd expression on his face. At first, I thought he was going to ask why I was there. Well, I feared he would ask because I had no answer. I could've thrown out the old 'I carried a watermelon,' but 80s movie references felt wrong for the moment.

"I'd hire her instantly if I thought she'd accept," he finally responded. "She's got the best eye in three states," he added as he stacked up the other pictures and tossed them in the trash.

"Are you all done for the day?" Tess quickly changed the subject.

"Pretty close; I should tell Danny we've changed our mind on the cover." Tim's tone struck the 'we' and 'our' a bit harder to accent his exclusion from the conversation.

Tess followed Tim out, leaving me alone with Billy. Panic immediately rose in me. Being alone with Billy had proven dangerous; would he be mad? Would he be nostalgic? There was no way of knowing. I headed to the door to escape the vacuum sucking me to him.

"Where are you going?" He shot at me.

"Um." My mind went blank. I was utterly devoid of an answer. It would've been so much easier if I'd just thought of the bathroom, but instead, the truth came out, "away from you."

"Nice, Lil." He shook his head at my acidic answer.

"Would 'I carried a watermelon' have been better?"

He just stared at me with a look of confused awe.

"Sorry," I shrugged. "I just don't know how to be around you."

"Yeah." Billy's eyes fell back to a few papers on his desk as he absently added, "and who's fault is that?"

"Clearly mine."

He let out a senseless laugh.

"Has the gentleman finally left the building?" I shouldn't have been egging him on, but I also couldn't stop myself.

He smiled the odd smile that was part wince and part laugh. "Is that what you want?"

"Do you care what I want? If I ask you to yell at me, would you care?"

His eyes snapped up to mine in an instant. "Is that what you want?"

"Honestly? Yes," I admitted.

"Why?" He pressed, but his shoulders stayed relaxed.

"You should let it out."

"Oh, come on, Lily. You don't care about me letting anything out. You want me to yell at you because you think you deserve it, and if I were to yell at you, then it'd be over."

"I know it's over, Billy. You've been very clear about that since I came back here."

He stood and paced towards me so quickly that I didn't have a chance to recoil. His hand snatched my wrist. It wasn't a pleasant mingling of fingers. It wasn't a tender leading. It was a demanding clutch.

"You know nothing. You need to stop assuming you know what I think; it's fucking annoying, and I don't have the patience anymore." As he spoke, he tugged me along down a hallway.

We turned the corner to another hallway; black-framed photos lined the walls of this one. He continued to yank me past them, but my eyes caught a few of the faces. It was a who's who of music, and they were all taken here at Billy's studio. The last few frames turned from black to red as we neared the end. The images were even more familiar; they were group shots with Billy, Tim, and other members of what looked like the studio staff. Then the last phase was framed in yellow. It was a small smattering of photos of the Collins family mixing with the Denning family.

"When we started the studio, everyone thought we should start a wall for the awards. You know, one of those grotesque walls where row after row of gold and platinum records glisten." His voice was low and smooth. I hadn't heard this voice in so long. It was the Billy I had known talking to me, my Billy. "Everyone always said how proud of them I should be, but awards never enticed me. So, I just started putting up photos of things I was proud of; cool artists I've worked with, the staff here, my family."

And then his eyes dropped to a small photo amongst the yellow frames. We looked so young, slumped together on a loveseat in some forgotten green room. I was leaning into Billy's side, with my eyes closed, as he was reciprocating by leaning into me with his head resting on the top of mine. Our eyes were closed; we may have been asleep, given the schedule we were keeping around the time it was taken, it was more than likely.

"The thing that's so suffocating with you is this doe-eyed innocence you project. You have all these thoughts of what's been done to you and what you've done. Even when you inflict pain, you do it in this manner of a martyr."

"Billy, I..."

"You wanted me to yell. I won't yell. But I will tell you what I'm thinking. Not that you'll hear a word I say. You already have your mind made up on what I think. But I get to say it, Lily. I get to tell you what I think. It's never been enough that I love you. It didn't matter how many times I told you, all the ways I tried to show you, prove it to you. You still left me. You just left me and never looked back."

He let a knuckle roll over the picture of us like he had with the photo of Viv on his refrigeration. It was as though he was afraid that his fingertips would tarnish the memory somehow.

"I know everything you wanted, but you never even tried to get those things with me. It was always a battle against me. There was nothing I could do; I was the bad guy for choosing to pursue music. You painted me the bad guy." He let a laugh slip from his lips in a twisted manner. "And now, most people would say I'm a pretty bad guy: controlling, demanding, a perfectionist. I'm exactly what you made me."

"I didn't...."

"Ah, ah, ah, Lily; you wanted me to talk, remember?" His words came with a tease as he grabbed my wrist and tugged me back in the direction we came.

The photos passed in a blur, and we were back in his office.

"I've been yelling at you for years. You'd know that, but you won't listen to my music. And even that, you claimed, was for me. I never asked you to treat me differently. You made that decision and imposed it on me. You've done your best for the better part of twenty years to avoid me, Lily. And anytime I make even the slightest bit of headway, you strike me down."

He fell back into his office chair and took a casual sip of his malt.

"Ask me what I want, Lil. Just this one time, ask me what I want rather than telling me what I want."

"What do you want, Billy?"

"I've been thinking about this. Not just since you've been back, I've been thinking about what I want for ten years. You should fight for me. Since the second we met, I've fought for you. It's your turn. I want to feel you even when you aren't right next to me. I want your rage for the wreckage we are in to get so hot that you can't stand it. It was supposed to be us, Lily. You know it, I know it, the whole fucking world knows it. We were supposed to protect each other, not tear each other apart. I needed you to protect me."

"Protect you from what?"

"Myself," he stared straight into my eyes as he spoke.

"You're third solo album," my voice came weakly.

"What about it?" There was a callousness to his voice.

"That's my favorite of your albums."

"What?"

"It's my favorite. I didn't care for the last one. It was fine until those last two songs."

Billy stared at me for a long time. His mind slowly moved over my words. His eyes didn't leave me as he rose and paced around his desk. There was nothing but space between us, but he didn't close the gap. Instead, he leaned against his desk, still holding my eye contact.

"I know you invent stories and heighten emotions in your work, but the way you closed that last album," I shook my head in rejection of the ideas he had presented, the thought of ending it all. "It wasn't right, Billy. You know it wasn't right."

"I know. I did it on purpose," he admitted, his eyes still glued to me.

"Why? Why would you put that out there? Why would it even cross your mind?"

"I wanted a reaction."

"Did you get it?"

"You tell me."

"It isn't fair to those around you. Those that love you." The tears built. I couldn't imagine a world without Billy. The idea of a world where Billy chose to leave was something beyond.

"And does that group include you?"

"Of course," I admitted.

"Your dad hated that I ended with that. He wanted My Love to close the album." Regret surged through his words.

"It would've fit better. That song is a call, a request. Leaving the album by asking a question is always an alluring method. But to end it with planning...."

"Say it?"

"It makes me sick just thinking about it."

"Say it," he demanded again.

"Even inventing a scenario where you would die...."

"I wasn't in that state. It was a song; it was an embellishment. I needed to know."

"What? What did you need to know?"

"Lily, you've been gone for ten years; ten fucking years. But you've haunted me every fucking day. Not a single morning went by that I didn't wonder if it was the day. My patience got the best of me, and I took a shot. The only one I had."

"Me? I was the reaction you were looking for?"

"Yours is always the reaction I look for. Ever since I laid eyes on you in that shitty club, I just wanted you to see me. I just wanted your focus, your response."

"You want me to fight for you? Present tense?"

A long pause filled the room as Billy gazed at me.

"You once told me that I can't tell you not to love me," I reminded him. "No matter where I am, what I am doing, who I am with, I can't tell you not to love me. That goes both ways. I love you. No matter how long we're apart, I love you. So, let me ask you again; do you want me to fight for you? Will you let me fight for you?"

"Yes," he admitted.

"I need to know who I'm fighting for, who you are now."

"I'm the same guy you've always known," he shrugged.

"Are you?"

His eyes dropped from mine. "Maybe not, but if anyone can bring me back, it's you."

"I'm scared. I'm scared you won't be my Billy, and I won't be your Lily."

He let out a laugh. "It's funny; I only worry that I'm not your Billy."

There he was. In one admission, he proved my Billy was still in there. Duty and fear of failure buried him, but he was there.

"I hear you, Billy. Go home; get your hands dirty. You've hidden in this studio for too long."

"Ah, guys," came from the doorway.

"Give us a minute, Timmy." I didn't give him the option; I shut the door on him and turned back to Billy. "Get your hat and walk me out."

He gazed at me for a moment, inspecting me before plucking his hat off the nearby coat rack.

"Get used to walking me out, Billy," I murmured.

"Why?"

"Because I'm only leaving with you from now on."

He gave his dutiful nod and let a hand fall on the small of my back as he opened the door for us.