#booing

“Shit!” Bobby slammed his fist into the wall in anger and frustration. I jumped a little from the noise, but then I rushed over to him.

“Booing me, like I’m some fucking hack!” His anger rattled in him like he was an instruments all in himself.

“It was bad out there,” I whispered in acknowledgement. His lip quivered. I was surprised at his reaction. I didn’t often see him cry. He was a whimsical care free type of person.

“It’s okay, they don’t know good music,” I said cautiously moving towards him.

“I feel like I wear my damn heart on my sleeve and they tell me to take it back because I’m not presenting it with the right chords, or the right tune,” he sniffled. His words were getting more slurred as he got more upset.

“Can I hug you?” I asked him softly.

The way he looked at me made me gasp. The pure longing, the need, the way his body shook ever so slightly. I waited for his small nod before I launched myself at him.

He wasn’t much taller than me so I could cradle him against my chest. I ran my hair through his curls to soothe him. His lanky arms wrapped around me. I knew I’d remember this moment forever, no matter what happened next.

“Did you like it?” He murmured into my chest.

“I loved it. I love when I hear your voice and can experience your mind and soul through your art. Doesn’t matter what kind of instruments you use.”

“Thank you Darlin,” he murmured against my temple. “We’ll make it through this, whatever happens.”

“Of course we will,” I agreed.

“Me and my muse,” he smirked. I grinned back and he pressed his lips to mine.

“Let me make you some tea for your vocals,” I offered.

“Nah, I’d rather kiss ya a bit longer,” he rasped, and I had to comply.