Delicate (mxm)

Chapter One.

Caleb was in his apartment. Alone, as always. But he liked being alone. That way, no one would bother him as he did what he loved the most: music. If he had to chose his favourite instrument, he'd say the guitar. But it wasn't true. Each one of his instruments were a part of his body. Another extremity. Something he could live without but just would make everything so much difficult. His instruments were his hands, his heart and his mind. His acuostic guitar, his creole guitar, his drums and his keyboard. He had been buying them along the years, with all his savings. He wished he had a lot more. He dreamed of having an electric guitar; but that was just much more expensive. He wasn't sure if he could buy it at that moment of his life.

Alone, in his room, he could play every single song he wanted. He could create a million of melodies. No one would be bothered.
With his sandy hair made a mess and his green eyes sparkling everytime he hit a note on his guitar, he was forming a song.

He wished his songs about personal experience weren't so bad. He barely had any experience to tell about. That he hadn't been a good brother. That he was scared of loving again. That he had panic attacks. His only experience worth telling was his passion for music. So he didn't wrote about himself. He wrote about things he imagined. About zodiac signs. About books. His songs weren't good. He knew that. But they were for him and only him, so he didn't care.

Sighing, he put the guitar away and checked the time in his phone. It was time to go to his father's beneficial lunch. He only went because of his sister. His sister loved going to their father's events. Now that she wasn't there, now that she didn't had the chance to go to those shitty and fake events, he had to do it. It wasn't fair if she couldn't go, and Caleb could but decided not to. It just wasn't fair. At all.
He looked in the mirror and almost rolled his eyes. He looked like a mess. That wasn't new. He lazily went over his closet and picked his clothes: ripped jeans (his father had told him not to wear his ripped black jeans, but he hadn't said anything of his ripped denim jeans), a baggy black t-shirt with the picture of an alien popping out of the pocket and his leather jacket. He made sure his hair was messy, but cool.
He looked at himself in the mirror. Good enough.

Dad, I'm going.

PLEASE be waiting for me. I don't want to have to talk to any of your colleagues.

He didn't bother on wait for a response. He put the phone in his pocket and headed towards the door.

At least, there would be free food.

Little did he know that, at least, he would meet the man who would change his life.