Page 14 of Inevitable

Inspiration was a fickle bitch on any given day, but Drew gone for a week meant that Bas could kiss any work he might have wanted to do goodbye. He was restless, couldn’t concentrate, and just plain missed Drew. It was unreasonable, reckless, and incredibly stupid, but it didn’t change the fact that that was how he felt.

He slammed the lid of the piano shut and banged his head against it. It didn’t seem like he was going to get any work done that night. He couldn’t concentrate on anything. Not composing his own stuff, not practicing, not going over the set lists for the next gig he’d been booked for.

And it wasn’t like he had ample time on his hands. He couldn’t afford to take a week off just because he was missing Drew and behaving like a lunatic while he was at it.

Bas rubbed his palms over his face and got up from his seat behind the piano. He’d been warming the bench for over five hours already with nothing to show for it but some random scribbles that made almost no sense. It was all crap, if he was brutally honest with himself.

He grabbed his wallet off the desk. Maybe a short walk would help. A change of scenery and—he glanced at the time on his phone—Jesus, dinner was definitely in order. Or more like a midnight snack by that point.

He strode out into the freezing December night. Unbelievably, it had gotten even colder. Boston wasn’t really a late-night city. Dining options for night owls were limited, but there was a place in walking distance of Bas’s studio that he’d visited in the past, so he headed that way.

The usual twenty-minute walk turned into fifteen because of the cold. Bas was practically running by the time he cleared the diner’s door. He looked around as he stomped his feet clean.

There were a few other patrons sitting in booths by the windows. Bas let his gaze wander over them. When he reached the last booth, he did a double take.

No.

It couldn’t have been.

Fate wouldn’t be such a sneaky bitch. But the dark hair and the worn jacket were decidedly familiar.

Bas didn’t even try and talk himself out of what he was about to do as he approached the hunched figure in the booth. For a moment, he thought the man was asleep.

Ezra was huddled in the seat by the aisle, his backpack and duffel stuffed next to him by the window. His elbows were on the table, his head hung, upheld only by the tips of his fingers that were pressed against his forehead.

Bas cleared his throat when it became clear that Ezra hadn’t noticed him yet. The guy lifted his head slowly. He looked rough. Eyes swollen and red-rimmed with noticeable dark circles underneath them, hair a mess, and skin as pale as the snow outside the window.

“Great,” the man rasped, voice so scratchy that it was barely audible. “Tell me you’re a fever dream because I don’t have the energy for the real thing right now.” The statement was followed by a violent coughing attack that made Bas wince with sympathy. What the hell was Ezra doing out with a cold that bad?

“Sorry to disappoint,” Bas said as he slid into the booth, opposite Ezra.

Ezra leaned his forehead against his arms and didn’t say anything. If he was planning to wish Bas away, he was in for a disappointment.

Bas gestured toward the waitress, and she hurried over.

“Could I get a cup of tea?” Bas put on his most charming smile. “In the biggest mug you have. And maybe add some lemon, ginger, and honey?”

“Sure thing.” The waitress was back in no time with a steaming mug the size of a small bucket that she placed in front of Ezra. “It’s a good thing he has a friend to take care of him,” she told Bas. “I was beginning to think I’d have to call an ambulance.”

“How long has he been here?” Bas asked.

“A couple of hours. Technically, he’s supposed to order something to stay, but I couldn’t send him out in this weather. God knows what would have happened to him.”

Bas nodded, trying to get his overactive imagination under control. Whatever Drew said about fate and destiny, Bas decided that there must have been a higher power at play that led him to Ezra that night.

The waitress left, and Bas nudged Ezra’s foot with his. “You still with me?”

Ezra looked up and blinked blearily as Bas pushed the tea in front of Ezra.

“What’s this?”

“Tea. Drink up. You need it.”

“No, thanks.”

Bas rolled his eyes. “Don’t be a stubborn ass. A hot drink will help clear your head a bit. It’s not like I poisoned the thing.”

Ezra glared at Bas. Considering his pathetic appearance, it wasn’t nearly as intimidating as it was probably intended to be. Bas just raised his brow at Ezra until the guy gave up and took a sip.