#ethankams

Lottie: So, about last night.

Lottie: I'm going to need you to keep quiet about seeing Chris and I together.

☀️ a time my muse let yours take care of them.  

April 21st, 2019

📱 a time my muse texted / called yours.

January 10th, 2016

Milo couldn’t help but be annoyed. Every time something like this happened, when they weren’t running on schedule, Milo found a way to make it Uriah’s fault. Uriah left his drumsticks on the bus. Uriah forgot to do his stupid meditation at 8:30 am and instead pushed it back, which all meant they weren’t going to be on time coming out on stage. And for Milo, inconsistency meant he was stressed. Stress brought him back to this point, fresh off a single line of coke that was going to carry him on a high throughout the set. Pulling out his phone, he lifted it to his ear, waiting until he heard Uriah’s breathless voice on the other end, “You fucking selfish prick. Where are you? I don’t give a shit about your excuses. You have three minutes or the rest of us are going on stage without you.” Hanging up, he looked up at the uncomfortable faces of Victor and Cooper. Shrugging his shoulders, he tossed the phone over his shoulder, uncaring as it shattered across the floor and he brushed by his boyfriend and friend. “C’mon then. We got a show to do.”

💔 a time my muse said they hated yours.

September 5th, 2016

Milo knew the news wasn’t going to be received well. He’d seen Cooper almost immediately, and of course, of course Uriah would be waiting for him. The solo deal was done, it was finished. There was no taking it back. Milo had let himself be cornered by irrelevancy and the fear of fading into nothing. His manager had twisted it enough to make him believe it’d be okay, and he’d signed his soul away on that dotted line without a second thought. He hadn’t slept in over twenty four hours; the drugs in his system were keeping him going. He was crazy off of no sleep and a high that seemed never ending. Which is why as soon as Uriah began yelling, Milo found himself returning it in kind. How could you do this to us?

How could he? Milo pressed his finger into Uriah’s chest when he got closer, shoving him backwards with it. He knew he looked as crazy as he was feeling, but there was nothing tying him down to Legacy anymore. He was free of it. Free of the chains that came along with being one in four. “I’ll tell you how. Because I fucking hate you, Uriah. I hate you and your shitty fucking personality. And all the shitty fucking things you’ve ever done to all of us. Well guess what? Have fun with the fucking pieces of this band. Maybe you can meditate on it, yeah? Find a new singer, or find out how you’re going to fucking deal with what we owe before ever getting another cent from royalties ever again. Enjoy your fucking life.”

💧 a time my muse cried.

As soon as the call ended, disappearing from her phone screen and leaving a gaping void in its wake, Shay could already sense something pivotal fracturing within her chest. “So my sperm donor spent all their money this month. Again.” At this point in her life, she is so far beyond anger at the situation, it boiled down to absolute helplessness at the inability to change anything. “They have no hot water right now. And their phone bill is overdue. Which means I probably won’t hear from her for at least two weeks, maybe more.” Her voice cracks on the last words before continuing. “How do you do somethin’ like that to the person you claim to love? How is a fucking blackjack table more important than keeping the lights on? I don’t… I can’t understand how he uses her up, and she lets it happen. She just stays.” Saltwater tributaries have carved their way down her cheeks and finally, Shay remembers herself and the current circumstances across from her friend. “Sorry. I’m–– sorry.”

👀 a time my muse told a lie. 

This would be the absolute last time she allowed one of her friends to set up a blind date, the incessant yammering from her company tonight regarding bottom lines and audits nearly enough to ruin her second glass of overpriced wine. In what world did Shay seem the type to enjoy the mind of an accountant? Born with an artistic brain, more intrigued by the colorful creative than black and white digits, this never could have worked in even the most favorable of circumstances. Her date poses a question that she nearly misses, but manages to answer with only the faintest hint of bile climbing up her throat. “I’m having a great time, thank you.”

📱 a time my muse texted / called yours.  

         Louis was attending a nursing conference for a couple of days away from Seattle. Something that was quite the chance, and also a compliment for his work at the hospital. It had been a long flight, and by the time he finally made it to the hotel room, it was late for him and even later in Seattle. The hotel room was nice. But it was also quiet. Incredibly quiet. And by the time he lay in bed, a thick duvet covering his body, he still missed the warmth of a certain body next to his own. Louis tried to ignore the urge to call Uriah for what felt like a small eternity. But he missed the other. More than he probably should have. It was also ridiculous, considering they had been separated for merely a few hours. An hour after trying to fall asleep, he eventually gave in to the urge and picked up his phone. He knew how late it was and that Uriah must be asleep by now, so he wasn’t all that surprised when the call went to voicemail. There was still a pang of disappointment in his chest, having hoped to hear the other’s voice. Clearing his throat, he stared up at the ceiling. “Hey,” he whispered softly, his voice sounding unnaturally loud in the quiet hotel room. “I know you’re probably asleep, I just… wanted to let you know that I arrived. The hotel’s nice, and I’m beat. And uh… I miss you.” He pressed his close shut when the words left his lips, unsure whether it was okay to say them. Shaking his head a little, he quickly added: “So, yeah. Just wanted to let you know. Talk to you tomorrow maybe. Bye.”

🧠 a time my muse thought about yours. 

        Louis was supposed to update the file of one of his patients, but he couldn’t take his eyes away from the boy in the patient room across from him. Tim was one of his newer patients, cursed with two broken legs after being hit by a car. He was sixteen, so not much of a child anymore, and he was constantly bothered by being surrounded by kids. Louis tried to treat him like an adult to make it easier for him, and he had a feeling the boy liked him. He just hoped it would stay that way even if the other found out that Louis had been watching him and his guest that afternoon intently. There just had been something in the way the two boys greeted one another when Louis was still in the room to check on Tim’s vitals, that reminded him of something. Or someone. They seemed almost shy in the way they moved, and even if Louis couldn’t hear what they said from across the hallway, a smile bloomed on his lips when the visitor leaned in to snatch a kiss from his patient. It reminded him so much of Uriah when they’d been younger it almost hurt. At times Louis missed those times. The times when they had both been teenagers fumbling for the right movements, exploring the world together. He missed how easy it had been. He missed not thinking too much into everything – and not wanting more than he could have. His heart ached as he watched the boys scoot together on the bed, remembering a time when he had been sliding into Uriah’s bed with his own wounds – maybe no broken legs, but the way he wrapped his arms around Louis to hold him and heal him had been almost the same. He tore his eyes away from the window into the room eventually, trying to focus on his task at hand. But his mind kept going back to the redhead who’d captures his heart without knowing when they were nothing but stupid teenagers.

☀️ a time my muse let yours take care of them.  

          “Ouch.” Louis winced at the touch to his swollen ankle, ignoring the look from Uriah that told him to stop being such a wimp. He’d definitely had worse injuries throughout his life – the memory of bruised ribs was still worse than the pain in his ankle now. But he had just gotten home from his run, which had led to the sprained ankle, and the injury was still so fresh it hurt like hell when Uriah took a closer look at it before putting some ice on it. It was almost like an old routine for them, and Louis wondered if he could ever make up for the amount of times Uriah had taken care of him in one way or another. He couldn’t even count how many times he found himself in the other’s caring hands, while he hardly got to repay the favor. He guessed with his situation at home as a teenager, as well as being in too many sports teams, the risk of him getting injured was simply way higher than Uriah’s. All he got to do was ice the other’s wrists at the beginning of his career with Legacy, whenever he’d gone too hard on the drums, but that was still nothing compared to the amounts of wounds, both physical and mental, his roommate had taken care of for him. Biting down onto his bottom lip, he watched Uriah for a moment. When the other got up from his position by his ankle, he quickly reached his hand out to curl it into the fabric of the other’s sweater. “Hey,” he said softly, pulling Uriah closer. Leaning up, he pressed a gentle kiss to the redhead’s lips, a smile blooming on his lips. “Thank you,” he whispered, even if those words seemed inappropriate for what Louis really felt. When he let go, the smile on his lips widened a little more, and he playfully asked, “Do I get some ice cream too?”

🗯️ a time my muse didn’t text / call yours.

🍎- a time my muse felt safe with yours.

          It was rare for David to really bear his soul to someone. There weren’t many people who got to see that side of him in the past, and even less who stayed in his life like Avi had. It had been a long day, the release of his new movie, and he had been incredibly anxious waiting for the first reviews. He still hadn’t read any of them, knowing it would either uplift or destroy him – and he wasn’t ready for the latter. But there was one person out there who always managed to build him up, especially when it came to his work. Wrapped up in a warm coat, he sat next to her on a bench, cold night air tugging at their skin. But they didn’t move, just kept sitting there, their stomachs full with warm food. David felt content. More than that, he felt safe. All evening she’d been telling him about how good his movie was – with the occasional side-jab he definitely deserved for being such a diva. Now he turned his head to look at her, a fond smile on his lips. “Hey,” he said softly to catch her attention, having no idea where her thoughts currently were. “Thank you. For today. It means a lot to me.”

📱 a time my muse texted / called yours.