‘ there’s a history of ‘ we don’t talk about that ’ in my family . ’
---- a million little things sentence starters !
if there’s one thing cal knows, aside from stars and nebulas, from rhythmic collisions and harmonies, is the concept of a dysfunctional family. or an overly functional one, actually. so ridiculously perfect that it’s defective.
many things went unsaid when living with his parents. maybe if he hadn’t bottled up all his pent up frustrations, all the ‘stop pressuring me’s, maybe then he wouldn’t have ran away from home. maybe cal wouldn’t have crossed an entire ocean for some peace and quiet, wouldn’t be here having the time of his life whenever on stage, wouldn’t be here having the lowest of lows when he finds himself alone in his small studio apartment.
“yeah, i get that.” and he really does. “that’s why i’m here, dude! i’m your surrogate family. whatever you can’t talk with them, you can talk with me.”
and there’s a genuine smile on his lips. cal means it, and endures the stab of pain in his heart from just uttering the word family.
