#after I get back from the trip in June I’m gonna start guitar and voice lessons again

[bitchyfoxymama]

The One That Got Away Tony Stark x F!Reader

To break up all that fluff and fluffy smut I've written in the last couple of days here's some ANGST! it's a normal life au! again

words: 758

WARNINGS: Just pure angst and possible underage drinking

Summary: The one girl who got away from Tony.

*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*

*FLASHBACK*

It was summertime when he first met her; she was gorgeous, and had curves in all the right places. She was gorgeous and he knew he had to make her mine.

“Hey gorgeous, my name’s tony, tony stark, and who might you be?” he asks the most gorgeous woman in front of him.

“(Reader), so you on summer break too? What high school are you from?” She smiles. Wow, she’s even got a beautiful smile to match.

“High school? No, I just graduated from MIT.” The look on her face after he told her was priceless. “So tell me sweet cheeks did it hurt when you fell from heaven?”

“No but I scraped my knees climbing up from hell” she smirked trying not to laugh.

*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*

They  were currently in his mustang making out listening to AC/DC.

“God I love you so much, you don’t even realize how much I truly do,” he says against her lips while rubbing his thumb over her matching bird tattoo to the one that he bares on his forearm, taking a moment to remember the day they got it, last month on her 18th birthday.

“I love you too Tony, It’s us against the world remember? Forever and always” she says kissing him once more.

*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*

“My parents are gonna be so pissed when they notice that the good liquor is gone from the cabinet” she giggles as they sneak onto the top of her roof.

“Who says they’ll find out?” he says sitting next to her and looking up at the stars and moon. She leans her head against his shoulder taking a sip from the bottle.

“Do you ever think about the future tony?” she asks low enough so that he can barely hear her.

“All the time, I see myself taking over my father’s company, marrying you and having a couple of kids, living in a big house where we grow old together surrounded by friends and family,” he says kissing the top of her head.

“I like that future.” She says sighing happily.

*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*

“I love this song,” she says while dancing along to ring of fire. She was the June to my Johnny Cash, whenever she left to go to college during the fall and spring he would play those old records and they’d help him get through the long months without her. He goes behind her and wrap her in his arms and sways along to the music. “Yeah well, I love you more than some song.”

She just giggles and continues swaying. “Let’s make a pact that when you finish this next semester we go on a trip and travel, because y/n l/n, I love you so much,” he says kissing her head.

“Oh tony, you, I mean we don’t have to!” she says shaking her head.

“I want to and I know you want to go to England and walk where the Beatles walked so why not?”

*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*

Someone told him that she got her tattoo removed a few months after she got back to college and started dating some accounting major. He never got a why all he got was a broken heart; he threw himself into his work and started tinkering with gadgets and new toys.

*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*

he was walking down Broadway when he heard the most beautiful singing voice he’d ever heard. When he looked up it was her singing the blues. He had no idea she could sing so well. He threw 20$ into her guitar case and kept walking luckily for him, she didn’t notice who he was. As he passed her, he rubbed the bird tattoo on his forearm.

*END OF FLASHBACK*

*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*

“Stark are you ok? You seemed to zone out of it” Steve asked as Tony shook his head.

“Yeah, I’m fine, now what were you saying?”  He say smiling at his friend.

“Well, I was introducing you to my Fiancé (Reader), the one I told you about, the singer.” He says as he smiles at her.

“Hello Mr. Stark, I’ve heard a lot about you.” She says smiling at him, Tony knows it's fake, and he can still read her like a book after all these years.

“All good things I hope,” I say shaking her hand.

*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*

As Katy Perry Says All this money can’t buy me a time machine; I should’ve told you how much you meant to me; Cause now I pay the price; in another life, I would make you stay, so I don’t have to say “You were the one that got away.”

[whorefordean]

lover x e.d

song fic based on the song lover by taylor swift

wc: 2.4k

pairing: ethan dolan x reader 

warnings: a few cuss words and a dirty(ish) joke 

requested: yes 

a/n I would like to sincerely apologize for not posting a fic or anything in months!! I have so many requests from June/July and I’m so sorry!  I promise I am going to try to write some more soon!! Anyways, enjoy!!

----------------------------------------------------------------------

We could leave the christmas lights up ‘til january

This is our place, we make the rules

You were struggling with Ethan.  You had been begging him for months to do it.  But ever since you and Ethan got your own place, he had always talked about how your home needed character.  Which is why you were trying to force him to get up now.  

“Ethan c’mon.  We have to take them down today!” You scolded while pulling Ethan’s arm, trying to get him off the couch.  

“Why can’t we leave them up?” Ethan whined, not budging from his spot.  You groaned.  

“For how much longer, Eth?” You questioned.  

“Til January,” Ethan shrugged.  You laughed loudly, dropping his arm to cross yours across your chest.  

“It’s July, Ethan,” You pointed out.  

“We make the rules, babe,” Ethan smirked.  

You sighed and flopped back down beside your boyfriend.  

“I can’t believe you,” You mumbled out.  

And there's a dazzling haze, a mysterious way about you, dear

Have I known you twenty seconds or twenty years?

Ethan wasn’t always like that, though.  Before you guys had gotten close, and into a relationship, Ethan was more lowkey about expressing himself.  It was alluring, really.  He was so mysterious and closed off when you met him at the beach one night.  

“Shit, sorry,” he said.  You just laughed and shrugged.  The guy laughed awkwardly, trying to recovers from the trip he had just taken into your side.  

“It’s cool.  We haven’t even met, and you’re already falling for me,” you teased the boy in front of you.  He laughed nervously, and you were quick to notice the blush across his face.  

“Y/n,” you introduced, extending your hand out for him to shake.  

“Ethan,” the boy smiled, shaking your hand gently.  

The two of you talked for hours that night.  You watched the sunrise together.  

“Can I tell you something, but you can’t laugh at me?” Ethan asked quietly, breaking the comfortable silence that settled over the two of you.  

“Already in love with me, E?  I just met you a few hours ago,” you teased.  Ethan laughed softly.  

“Wow, you really do know everything about me now, don’t you?” Ethan joked back.  

The two of you laughed together for a moment.  

“Honestly, I feel like I’ve known you my whole life, y/n,” Ethan confessed as you settled down.  

“Ditto.” 

Can I go where you go?

Can we always be this close forever and ever?  

“Wanna hang out?” you asked Ethan through the phone.  

“I have to run errands today,” Ethan responded.  You could hear the gloom in his voice, and your shoulders slumped.  

“Can I come with?” You asked hesitantly.  You waited in silence for a few seconds.  Just as you were about to shut down your own idea, Ethan answered.  

“I’ll be there in ten.”  

So, ten minutes later, you were sitting in the passenger seat of his car on the way to the grocery store.  

You both spent an hour annoying each other and trying to embarrass the other in the store.  After nearly getting kicked out, you and Ethan were walking back to the car with a buggy full of bags.  

“Can we always be like this?  This close, I mean?” You asked.

“Always,” Ethan smiled.  

And ah, take me out, and take me home

You're my, my, my, my lover

You laughed quietly into Ethan’s chest as he pulled you closer.  

“Why are you laughing at me?” Ethan asked playfully.  

“When you asked me out this is not what I was expecting,” you let out between giggles.  

Ethan had finally asked you out on a date after months of flirting.  You were ecstatic when he asked, and you were sure he knew that with how quickly you answered before he even finished the question.  

Your date had started off pretty normal.  Ethan took you to dinner, then the two of you decided to skip the movie and go for a walk in the park.  What neither one of you expected was getting stuck in the piss pouring rain.  And, better yet, Ethan decided it was the perfect time for dancing.  

You couldn’t be too mad, though.  Ethan looked so young and carefree as he laughed while spinning you around in the middle of the empty park.  

And Ethan couldn’t be bothered to care that his car would be soaked, and you’d both likely end up with colds.  He couldn’t be bothered to care about those things when your cheeks flushed red as he whispered sweet compliments into your ear.  He watched in aw as you threw your head back, laughing at some stupid joke he had executed so horrendously.  

We could let our friends crash in the living room

This is our place, we make the call

“How did you manage to drag me into this?” You questioned your boyfriend as you dragged him into the kitchen away from the thumping bass in the living room.  

“What do you mean?” Ethan asked, playing dumb.  Honestly, you weren’t even sure he was playing.  

“Everybody’s drunk, E.”

“Okay?”

“How are they getting home?” 

“You really are the mom of the friend group, y/n.”

“Ethan, be serious.”

“I am.”

You huffed at the man standing in front of you.  You crossed your arms in front of your chest, causing Ethan to mock you and do the same.  

“What are we supposed to do, Ethan?” You begged for an answer.  Ethan thought for a moment.  

“They can sleep in the living room!” Ethan responded like it was some grand idea.  

“There’s no way you’re being serious,” you shook your head.  Ethan just smiled at you and nodded.  

“It’s our house.  We can let fifteen people sleep in our living room if we want,” Ethan shrugged.  You sighed.  

“You’re making the pallet.”

And I'm highly suspicious that everyone who sees you wants you

I've loved you three summers now, honey, but I want 'em all

“You can’t seriously be mad at me, babe,” Ethan laughed as you walked into your shared home.  

“This isn’t a laughing matter, Ethan,” you huffed out while kicking your shoes off at the door and flinging your purse onto the table beside the door.  

You were irritated, to say the least.  You and Ethan had decided to go to your favorite diner down the street after having a rough week at work, and the waitress was getting a little too flirty with Ethan. 

“It’s really not a big deal, honey,” Ethan reassured you as he pulled you into his chest.  

“You didn’t see the way she looked at you, E.  She was practically drooling onto my fries,” you mumbled into Ethan’s chest while wrapping your arms around him.  

“I only have eyes for you, honey.  I’ve only had eyes for you for three years,” Ethan whispered the last part into your ear softly.  

“Good, cause I want ‘em all,” you whispered back.  

“You’ll have them all,” Ethan smiled while twisting the engagement ring that had recently been slipped onto your finger by the man himself.  

Can I go where you go?

Can we always be this close forever and ever?

And ah, take me out, and take me home (forever and ever)

You're my, my, my, my lover

“Cam, please just let me go see him,” you had begged the older Dolan standing in front of you.  

“Y/n, I am not letting you sneak off to see, Ethan.  It’s bad luck to see your groom before the wedding.  Plus, it’s only one night.  I think you’ll survive,” Cameron teased you.  You groaned causing her to laugh at you.  

“We don’t have to tell anybody,” you huffed under your breath.  Cameron rolled her eyes and shook her head.  

You flopped onto yours and Ethan’s shared bed and sighed.  

“Cam, I’m always with him.  I miss him,” you admitted.  Your eyes had begun to water as a wave of emptiness settled over you.  It felt wrong to lay in your bed without Ethan there beside you.  The two of you truly had been connected at the hip since you met.  

“Hey, y/n, it’s okay.  It’s just one night.  Then, you’ll never have to spend another night without him,” Cam comforted you.  

“I’m such a crybaby, holy shit,” you laughed at yourself as you wiped your eyes.  

“If it makes you feel better, Gray texted me and said Ethan has been whiney all day,” Cam grinned, nudging your shoulder.  

“Can I at least call him?” you gave Cameron your best puppy dog eyes, knowing she’d cave.  

“Fine, but no FaceTime,” she groaned.  

You sat up way too fast, shaking the dizziness off as you grabbed your phone from the nightstand.  You clicked Ethan’s contact as fast as you could, and after two short rings, the call connected.  

“Oh, thank god,” Ethan sighed, “I thought I was gonna go crazy.”  

“Cam finally caved,” you giggled as Cameron rolled her eyes beside you, a soft smile resting on her lips.  In all honesty, she loved how in love you and Ethan are.  

“I was fully convinced I would murder Grayson if I didn’t talk to you tonight,” Ethan confessed.  

You laughed at Ethan.  The two of you talked for hours.  Eventually, Cameron had fallen asleep in the guest room, and you settled into Ethan’s side of the bed.  

“Can we always be this close, Ethan?” you asked, barely audible.  

“Always,” Ethan replied before telling you to sleep well.  

“Big day tomorrow,” he’d remind you, sending a smile to your face, knowing that the same time the next night you’d be Mrs. Dolan.  

Ladies and gentlemen, will you please stand?

With every guitar string scar on my hand

I take this magnetic force of a man to be my lover

“It’s not too late to back out,” Ethan whispered into your ear as the priest started the ceremony.  

“Ethan, don’t tell me you’re getting cold feet,” you teased back.  You could never be scared of Ethan leaving you at the altar.  The two of you had talked about marriage for years.  There’s no way you’d ever leave each other.  

“Y/n, do you take Ethan Grant Dolan to be your lawfully wedded…” the priest continued.  You smiled at the thought of spending the rest of your life with the man standing in front of you.  Ethan was grinning at you with small tears rolling down his face.  

“I do,” you whispered, only loud enough for Ethan to hear.  

“You may kiss the bride,” the priest spoke cheerfully, stepping away from you and Ethan slightly.  

Ethan quickly grabbed your face in his hands and pulled you in close.  Your hands were wrapped gently around Ethan’s wrists as he kissed you passionately.  Time seemed to stop and the loud roars were drowned out with the love coursing through you as you and Ethan kissed.  

My heart's been borrowed and yours has been blue

All's well that ends well to end up with you

Swear to be overdramatic and true to my lover

You and Ethan laid in the dark in your shared bed.  It was well past 3 am, and you could feel your eyes getting heavy.  Ethan was holding your hands in his, slowly tracing shapes onto the back of your hand.  You smiled as he drew a small circle on your hand.  

“Endless.  Like my love for you,” Ethan whispered softly.  

“You’re so cheesy, E,” you smiled at him in the dark, burying your face into his shoulder and breathing him in.  

“Just don’t wanna lose you.  Don’t wanna hurt again,” Ethan mumbled.  

“Never gonna lose me, love,” you reassured Ethan while pressing slow kisses to his shoulder.  

“Promise?” Ethan asked.  

“Am I not dramatic enough for you?  Do I not express my love well enough?” you playfully teased your husband.  

“Please, you could be an actress with your theatricals,” Ethan snorted.  

“Must I shout my love for you from the rooftops?” you continued.  

“Oh, please, y/n, not again,” Ethan groaned as you pulled yourself out of Ethan’s embrace and onto your feet.  

Ethan tried to grab you, but you were too quick.  Already halfway down the hall before Ethan made his way out of your room.  

“Y/n, people are sleeping! We have neighbors!” Ethan scolded as you slipped through the guest bedroom window and heaved yourself onto the roof.  You walked cautiously, waiting for Ethan to get up there with you.  

“I am in love with Ethan Dolan!” you shouted as loud as you could.  Ethan blushed and quickly pushed his hand against your mouth.  

You watched as a light from the house across the street flickered on.  

“Oh shit,” you whispered, causing Ethan to snort.  

“Again, y/n?” your neighbor, Mrs. Dott, the sweet old lady who baked you cookies every Friday, called out to you.  You giggled softly at her teasing words.  

“Always,” you called out in response to her.  

“Young love,” you heard her mumbled faintly before turning around and going back inside.  

And you'll save all your dirtiest jokes for me

And at every table, I'll save you a seat, lover

“Ethan, it’s not gonna fit,” you huffed out.  

“You know we always make it fit,” Ethan smirked and grabbed your hips.  

“Now is not the time for your dirty jokes, Ethan,” you huffed, still trying to adjust the  Christmas tree in the corner of the living room.  

“But I love watching you blush,” Ethan teased while poking your cheeks and leaving a few kisses down your neck.  

“Not now.  We have to set everything up,” you scolded.  Ethan raised his hands in defense and helped you with the decorations.  

“Why did you wait so long to start decorating?” Ethan asked.  

“It’s a magical thing called procrastination, Ethan,” you mumbled back.  

A few days later, Grayson, Lisa, and Cameron were talking in your living room as you and Ethan quickly finished cooking dinner.  

“Dinner’s done,” you called out to the three guests with a warm smile.  You and Ethan placed the dishes on the table.  You scooted the chair beside you an inch closer and slid it out enough for Ethan to sit down.  

Ethan smiled at you and placed a kiss to your forehead while tracing a circle onto your thigh.  You smiled back at him and gestured for everyone to begin eating.  

Can I go where you go?

Can we always be this close forever and ever?

And ah, take me out, and take me home (forever and ever)

You're my, my, my, my

Oh, you're my, my, my, my

Darling, you're my, my, my, my lover

[timeaftertime-chriscornellfanfic]

Chapter 43 - Back In A New York - Er... Seattle Groove

New York City, New York June 29 2017

(Andi is 29, Chris is 52)

ANDI: The air was warm with the sun brightly shining, a perfect summer day for moving. Though this move is going to be a little bit longer than just your typical quick trip and done in a day. Chris is moving back to Seattle - with me of course - somewhere where he hasn't been in very long time. Obviously you all know that it's only been just over a month since I was there - if we are going by my time anyways - ugh, this thing that I have is never easy to explain.

Chris had put the house up for sale as soon as he signed the divorce papers from Vicky. Within a day, he had already received an offer and they were willing to give him a little more than he was asking in order to secure the sale. I mean I don't blame them one bit, it's a beautiful home. Chris accepted and so we pretty much began packing as soon as it was finalized, though there wasn't much in the home to pack. It was basically all of Vicky's left over stuff and a few things of Chris's. Obviously nothing of mine except for the 3 guitars that he had saved over the years.

I don't know what it is though, but I just have this really strange feeling that all of this shouldn't be happening so smoothly. As much as I know that he isn't with Vicky anymore - I mean I saw him sign the divorce papers right in front of me - I just can't shake this strange feeling that it's not supposed to be this easy.

"Ok I think... we've got everything. Here is the address and uh, we'll see you in a couple of days," Chris says as he hands the driver of the moving company some cash then they both sign the delivery and insurance papers.

"No problem, thank you," The driver says as they shake hands, then climbs up into the large moving truck. Chris turns and flips those gorgeous curls out of his face and walks back over to me.

"Ok babe, you ready?" Chris smiles at me, standing in his slim fitted ripped up jeans with the cuffs rolled up over his Doc's and a plain dark grey t-shirt.

"Yea I think so," I exhale, pushing my curls behind my ear, squinting my eyes from the sunlight as I look up at him.

"Alright, road trip time," He says and leans down placing a quick kiss on my lips, then heads over to his 1969 Jet black Dodge Challenger. I smile as I head over to the passenger side, opening the door and sliding into the black leather seat, feeling the heat on the back of my bare thighs. I smooth out my ripped jean cutoff shorts and buckle my seatbelt, adjusting my off-the-shoulder White Zombie - La Sexorcisto tour shirt from '94.

"So when's our flight again?' I ask flipping my dark curls out of my face, leaning back as I glance at him.

"What flight?" Chris asks as he starts the engine.

"Um... I thought we were moving to Seattle - back home to Seattle... right?" I chuckle.

"We are... I never said we had plane tickets though," He says as he pulls out of the driveway for the last time.

"Wait... you're gonna drive us all the way to Seattle?" I ask furrowing my brow for a moment as he drives us down the road towards down town.

"Yea baby, why not?" He smiles at me for a second then turns his attention back to the road.

"Chris, it's like a 2 and a half day drive,"

"Uh huh... and...?" He says as we pull up to a stop light. I glance out the windshield and then back at him, trying to see if he was serious or not, though my bets are pretty much on the former.

"Most of my clothes are pack in the U-Haul truck that already left though," I say.

"Nope, I grabbed the last couple of suitcases that had our clothes in them and packed them in the trunk," He says as the stop light turns green and start moving again.

"Oh... ok... " I trail off for a moment looking back out the windshield.

"What? You don't wanna spend 2 more days on the road with me? " He smirks at me raising his eyebrow.

"No, no it's not that... I just wasn't expecting you to drive us there," I giggle and he smiles at me.

"Well it's been a long time since we took a road trip - that wasn't touring around with the band and well because of what happened- so I thought maybe we could check out some places, do a little sight seeing, y'know... just me and you," He says sweetly.

"Ok sure, that's perfect actually," I smile at him and he reaches over and takes my hand in his, placing his lips to the back of my hand like he always does.

"Can I put on some tunes?" I ask after a few moments, pushing my curls behind my ear as Chris changes lanes.

"No," He says flatly then looks over at me with a smirk. I pat him lightly on his bicep and chuckle, then reach for my phone and connect to the Bluetooth stereo system that was upgraded in the dashboard. I scroll through the Spotify Music app, find some Aerosmith and play the Album 'Get A Grip'

'Wake up kid, it's half past your youth Ain't nothin' really changes but the date You a grand slammer, but you no Babe Ruth You gotta learn how to relate Or you'll be swingin' from the pearly gate Now you got all the answers, low and behold You got the right key baby but the wrong key hole, yo'

I sing -  or sorry 'rap' - along with Steven Tyler, closing my eyes and getting right into it as Chris starts laughing.

"Babe you are so cute," He laughs.

"Nah, I just love that part" I giggle as I look down at my phone for a moment.

"I know, that's what makes you so cute," He says sweetly with his blue eyes glancing over at me, and I feel my cheeks flush. Funny how after all this time, he can still make me blush and  feel those butterflies fluttering around in my stomach.

" I remember when you met Steven for the first time with me at the... what was it... the '94 MTV awards or something - ?" He says thoughtfully.

"Oh my god Chris, no, I'd really rather not remember that," I laugh embarrassingly.

"What-Why? It was adorable, -" He laughs.

"No Chris, How was that adorable? I literally like... fell into him," I gesture with my hands remembering the after party when I apparently had a little too much to drink and lost my footing when I stepped forward to shake his hand and tripped. Chris caught me of course but I was mortified the entire night. I was able to make light of the situation after but honestly, it wasn't my finest moment. If I could've pick a moment to time travel, that would've been the perfect moment so that I could re-do it and not be so embarrassed.

"It was just a little stumble, it wasn't as bad as you think it was... I just remember the look on your face, you were so cute," He chuckles.

" I remember trying to basically hide behind you the whole night after. I'm such a klutz. It was Steven fucking Tyler... like my god," I shake my head at myself.

"You were always so hard on yourself...you still are. I think that's what made me fall in love with you though. You never give up even though you feel like it and just... how you cope with the fact that you can't control... y'know.... and how you are always the first person I could run to when I was - or am - finding it hard to go on, 'cause I'm so hard on myself too," He glances back at me, his blue eyes catching mine and I give him a small smile as I lean my head against the seat while his gorgeous dark curls rest at his shoulders, his beard now fuller than before as he decided to grow it a little.

Fuck, he's so sexy

"That, and you were so fucking gorgeous when you showed up in my bathroom that I didn't know what to do. You scared the shit outta me," He adds as he returns his focus to the road and changes lanes again.

"Scared the shit outta you? Fuck I mean, I knew someday I was gonna meet you when you were 15 but I didn't think it was gonna be like that," I giggle.

"You know I am still so sorry I came at you with a bat... even though that was what... 30-something years ago? " He says thoughtfully with a chuckle. "Fuck I'm old..."

"Chris, you're not old. I love you, and you are still the same to me," I say as I reach over and begin to play with his curls, running my fingers through, then gently play with his earlobe. He turns, placing a kiss on my palm then quickly focuses back on the road.

After about 45 minutes, we finally make our way to downtown New York in which the city was absolutely buzzingly busy. I still was not used to the crazy crowds of people but at least I can say that I lived in New York City even if it was only for a little while. Driving down on of the main streets, Chris decides to pull off into one of the public parking spots which left me a bit confused as to what we were doing.

"I just have to make a stop in Guitar Center, wanna come in with me?" He asks noticing my confused look as he unbuckles his seatbelt.

"Um... Hello, do you know who you're asking here?" I ask as I unbuckle my seat belt and he laughs as I step out of the car. It had been a while since I was in a Music store so of course I didn't mind going in and looking at all the new pretty things.

Chris makes his way around to my side of the car and with a sweet smile on his face, takes my hand in his. We then take a walk from the parking lot down the street to Guitar Center.

Stepping inside Guitar Center is like stepping into a world that is full of shiny beautiful things. Beautiful guitars line the illuminated walls around the store, amps and accessories staged in various places, I swear I'm like a kid in a candy store. I just want everything.

"Hey Chris, how are ya?" A guy with long black hair, straighter than anything, wearing a white dress shirt and tie with black jeans and Doc's calls out to him. He sort of looked a bit like David Wyndorf from Monster Magnet but not flashy like the 'Space Lord' video.

"Hi, good, I'm good, did my order for that effects pedal...." Chris smiles, his voice fading away as  I slowly let go of his hand and walk over to the wall of guitars. I can't help it, they are all so beautiful. I continue on while I hear them talk glancing at each Fender Strat, Rickenbacker, Washburn, you name it. I wish I could describe the feeling of seeing them all hung up with their own spotlights waiting for the perfect person to discover what they can do.

Then I see it. The one that suddenly makes my heart all fluttery. An emerald green flame top Gibson Les Paul. It is absolutely gorgeous.

"...alright well good luck in Seattle and uh, if you need anything when you're in New York just give us a shout,"

"Thanks man, I will," Chris says as he walks over to me, placing his hand on the small of my back and following my gaze to the beautiful guitar on the wall. "See something you like?"

"Uh huh," I say, trying to not let my jaw drop to the floor.

"Hey, uh... can we see that, Gibson up there?" Chris turns and calls out to the store rep.

"No Chris, it's ok - " I start but I'm cut off by the David Wyndorf look alike.

"Sure, we actually just got that in yesterday," He says walking over with a reaching contraption to take it down off the hanger. I furrow my brow for a moment but I couldn't take my eyes off the emerald green coloring and how it meshed so well into the finish. He then hands it towards Chris but Chris refuses.

"No sorry, it's for my wife,"

The David Wyndorf look alike raises his eyebrow for a moment and looks at me and I couldn't tell if it was because it was Chris said I'm his wife or because I play. I smile shyly at him and push my curls behind my ear and he sweetly hands it over to me.I glance behind me and see a stool with a little amp that people use for testing. I then sit down and plug in the patch cord and adjust the volume and effects knobs on the amp, and rest the guitar across my lap.

As soon as I start to play, I am instantly in love. the way it feels in my hands, the neck doesn't feel too think, the frets are at the perfect width... the strings kinda suck but I can always change them.

Oh my god I love this thing.

I stop playing for a moment and look up to see Chris looking down at me with such a cute smile on his face. I clear my throat and try to seem like I'm not completely in love with this guitar, but I think Chris knows that I am. He's seen this look on my face before.

"We'll take it," Chris says to the guy.

"Chris no, it's ok," I say as I suddenly feel weird about him buying me guitar. I mean it isn't the first time he's bought one for me,but this is seriously expensive. 

Ugh, but I do love it so much though.

"Babe are you kidding? The look on your face, I know you want it," Chris says to me as the David Wyndorf look alike walks away to the front desk to prepare the guitar, by grabbing the case that comes with it.

"Chris, it's a 4000 dollar guitar. I love it but, this is too much," I say quietly as I reach out for his hand and pull him closer to me.  The last time he bought one for me it was maybe under 1000. I know it's 2017 now and I get the cost of inflation, but this seems a little too much to me.

"No baby it isn't too much... c'mon," Chris smiles sweetly at me and helps me up from the stool. With the beautiful guitar in my hand, I unplug it and walk with him over to the counter register while the loo alike rings up the guitar. Chris takes the guitar from me and hands it over to him gently while I glance over the accessory display and pick out some new strings. It's been so long since I've had a new guitar and though I still feel a little uneasy about him spending this much money on me, I really, really love that guitar.

Once everything was rung through -  Chris with his new pedal and I with my new guitar - we head out of the store and back to the car. Once I place the guitar in the back seat, I slide into the passenger side as Chris starts up the car and we head back out on the road, making our way through the rest of downtown New York.  Everyone and a while I glance back in the backseat admiring the leather guitar case, knowing that emerald green beauty is safe inside and try to resist the temptation to play it until we get to Seattle. Or at least a hotel along the way.

"Thank you," I say quietly still looking at the guitar case in the back seat as we finally make it onto the highway.

"For what?" Chris smiles at me glancing quickly at me then back to the road.

"For the guitar, and for... well... everything," I say still looking at the guitar as Chris glances at me again. I then look back at him and he reaches over to me cupping my cheek in his palm and I lean into his palm closing my eyes, catching the fresh scent of his cologne.

"You don't have to thank me babe. I love you," He says glancing back at the road and then back at me. "And I always loved that look on your face when you would get excited over a new guitar - I still do," He adds chuckling.

"I love you too," I say as he slides his palm from my cheek and I take his hand, placing a kiss on the back before he places it back on the steering wheel, then I glance back at the beauty in the backseat.

"Me? Or the Guitar?" He smirks and I laugh as we head down the highway.

[roswelldetails]

Episode 106: Smells like Teen Spirit - details

Episode Summary Max tells Liz what he knows about the night Rosa was killed, and the viewers get a glimpse of what happened years earlier both in 2008 and 2004. Also, prom.

Details - this is not an exhaustive list of every single detail, just just a few that might be important now or later.

The 2004 camping trip:

The trio apparently celebrates their birthdays on the same day each year - the day they were found in the desert. And they celebrate together, each year taking turns planning what they’ll do. 2004 was Michael’s turn, and it was a camping trip.

By this point they knew that Michael could move things with his mind, and Isobel could mess with people’s thoughts, but they weren’t sure what “superpower” Max had. Other than causing dirty-dream-induced power outages. 

Michael couldn’t control his power yet and would accidentally throw furniture around when he got angry - which was often in the group home. Max obviously couldn’t control himself either. 

There’s no reason to think that Isobel had any control at that point. *Theory on that to come later

The lady running the group home tried to exorcise Michael when he moved furniture around, and hurt him in the process. Michael mentions it, but doesn’t really want to talk about it.

At 13, Michael is already bottling up his pain, and likely not telling Max or Isobel a whole lot of the bad stuff that happens to him.

When the guy in the desert grabs Isobel, he’s looking over his shoulder at something (or someone) - in the opposite direction of Max and Michael who are running towards him.

Max suddenly knows he can kill the guy with his power, so he glow-hands the guy to death.

And Michael buries him.

After that camping trip, Isobel started having blackouts which, according to Max, “were brief and rare. Just little moments where she'd fade away.”

Flashback to 2008 when Max is shooting cans out of the air:

Michael has been accepted to UNM with a full scholarship, and Max plans to spend the summer tutoring to earn money so he can travel and write a book.

Isobel walks away instead of congratulating Michael, which Michael assumes is her “latest ploy for attention.”

Flashback at the high school:

Liz is working at the Crashdown to pay for Rosa’s car so she can use it for her roadtrip. She appears to be good friends with Alex.

Max and Alex walk away together when Kyle shows up - apparently, they were friends too.

At the bleachers, Isobel is laying in the sun, ditching AP History. She tells a confused Max that she doesn’t care about prom.

He says “Okay... who are you right now?” because it’s not like her to not care about prom.

Kate and Jasmine were doing drugs and Rosa was their supplier. They are not happy with her decision to get clean. They threaten to ruin Rosa’s life if she doesn’t come through for them.

Flashback at the diner:

Liz’s mom had apparently promised to be back in time to shop for prom dresses, but Rosa didn’t believe it.

On the roof of the diner, Rosa and Isobel are apparently friends. Rosa is glad to see her, and Isobel tells her about Ophiuchus, her favorite constellation.

Making it likely that the note from the Rosa scavenger hunt that was signed “Ophiuchus” was from Isobel. 

The description for Ophiuchus: "Maybe the man's killing the serpent. Maybe the serpent's killing the man. You can't tell where the man ends and the snake begins."

Possibly a description of whatever’s going on inside Isobel.

Flashback to May 2008 at school:

There were rumors that Michael lived in his truck. Probably because of the blankets in the back of it.

Michael mentions rumors about Alex, but doesn’t say what they are.

Michael is using Alex’s guitar, and even though Alex seems annoyed by that, he lets Michael know that his house has a warm tool shed if he ever needs a place to stay.

Flashback to the diner again - Max and Isobel ordering food:

Isobel knows that Max likes Liz. Like, probably everyone including the Evan’s mailman knows that Max likes Liz.

Isobel has NO MEMORY of her conversation with Max at the bleachers earlier in the episode. She doesn’t remember being banned from prom.

But she bats her eyes, saying that her brain is her superpower, saying that she’ll get Markham to change her mind. Likely, using her powers.

Apparently at some point Isobel also made plans to go to a movie with Rosa, but has no memory of it now.

Rosa’s speech to Liz before the prom about not trusting people was probably something to do with the way Isobel was treating her.

Flashback to prom (May 17, 2008):

Isobel seems to be triggered by Max telling her “besides, this is all almost over” and walks away. Presumably leaving the prom to go find Rosa at the Crashdown.

Kyle says something bad to Alex that he won’t repeat in front of Liz. Kyle is an ass. The two boys throw some punches, but are broken up by Michael and some of Kyle’s friends. Kyle calls Alex a coward - creating a nice symmetry to the earlier episode where Kyle said Alex was the bravest person he knew.

Michael asks Alex if he’s okay, and Liz tells Kyle to grow up, and then chases after Alex.

Flashback to the Crashdown on prom night:

Isobel is being not-herself again. When Rosa asks about the prom, she says, “I just don’t care about those people.”

Upon learning that Rosa plans to leave town, Isobel suggests that they run away together instead.

Later, Isobel wakes at the junk yard covered in paint from Rosa’s artwork, but we have no idea how the evening actually went for them.

Flashback to the prom aftermath:

Max finds Liz sitting alone, makeup ruined from crying (because apparently she hadn’t discovered the water-proof stuff yet, like she obviously has as an adult because -wow- she gets a lot of crying in without messing up her face)

She basically tells Max that her and Kyle have broken up saying “No, we won’t” when he tells her they’ll work it out.

It turns out Liz is crying because she misses her mom. She assumes her mom must figure Liz doesn’t need her anymore, but Liz feels like she still needs a mom.

Though Liz admits that if her mom were present, she’d likely be drunk and selfish - painting a not-wonderful picture of Mrs. Ortecho.

Michael interrupts Max’s moment with Liz to announce that Isobel is gone and he has a bad feeling.

They search all night and find Isobel at the junk yard with no memory of the previous night with Rosa.

They assume she’s on drugs and lying about it.

Isobel is freaked out over the idea of them leaving her to go live their own lives. She runs off while they shrug to each other like “eh... women, amirite?”

Flashback to June 2008:

Michael is hanging out in the Manes tool shed, sketching alien stuff and doing equations.

Alex comes in (apparently for the first time since Michael’s been hanging out there), and says, "It's good that you've been staying here. It's cold at night."

So even if it was Alex’s first time coming in, he’s been aware that Michael has been staying there.

Alex comes bearing gifts - his brother’s guitar for Michael to use. 

Michael admits that playing music helps him quiet the chaos inside.

And he uses the physics term “entropy” to describe it because he’s a precious little genius physics nerd.

After Michael stares at Alex’s lips a while, Alex leans in to kiss him, but Michael turns away and lifts the guitar to play.

Flashback to outside the Crashdown on the day Rosa is murdered (2 weeks before graduation):

Rosa’s car is vandalized and she assumes Kate and Jasmine did it.

Isobel appears and offers to help clean it off.

Rosa almost tells the audience something about her dad, but she cuts herself off: “I thought Kate Long was my friend, but I guess I'm just her supplier. And my mom sucks, and Liz is gonna leave, and I just found out that my dad...”

What? What did you just find out, Rosa??

Isobel approaches Rosa like she’s studying her, and Rosa tells Isobel that she’s “a lot” and that she just can’t handle her right now. 

Then Rosa runs inside, leaving Isobel to give significantly creepy looks to the car.

Flashback to inside the Crashdown, same day:

Max and Michael are acting brotherly, sitting in a booth and talking.

They think Isobel might be on drugs.

Max wants to ask Liz out because he felt like they had a moment.

Michael knows all about those moments - Oh, I bet you do, Michael.

Rosa and Isobel are fighting about the car - probably because Rosa doesn’t want Liz to see the vandalism so she’s not letting her use it after all.

Liz and Rosa’s final words to each other: 

Liz: "You know what, you're just like mom. Nobody matters but you."

Rosa: "I'm nothing like Mom. I'm here." 

Then Rosa slo-mo exits the diner for the last time.

But Liz is in luck for the bio project - Max is willing (and by willing, he means desperate) to take her since he has to do the project too.

Liz decides instead of doing the project, they should have an adventure together, beginning what is possibly the world’s most tame adventure two nerds ever had.

Flashback to Liz and Max’s super tame desert “adventure”:

Rosa got Liz a fake ID. Of course she did.

Looking forward to their 25 year-old selves, Liz wants to be a dancer.

Max wants to be a writer and write something “you can disappear into.”

They take like 2 sips of beer and dance. Liz wants to kiss Max, but decides not to because she doesn’t think she could kiss him and then leave, and she wants to leave.

Remember, though, they’ve been friends for along time. In a voice over during an earlier episode, Liz said that Max was the only one who could make her smile when her mom left. So it’s possible that Liz has had feelings for this dude simmering for a while.

Liz doesn’t want to be the kind of girl who changes her plans for a boy. 

As the sun is setting, Max admits that he’s 100% ready to be the boy who changes his plans for her. He says, “all I've ever wanted was to change my plans for you.”

First of all, at least when it comes to Liz, Max has no chill. Zero. He’s all but declaring his life-long love for her.

And second, he hasn’t really made plans for himself at this point beyond trying to get some money to go on his own roadtrip. So...? They both want to see the world.

But Liz seems on board with it. They have a little back and forth about all the possible places they could kiss on this epic road trip and end up in each other’s arms, smiling dopily as the sun sets.

Flashback to the alien museum:

Micheal wants to talk to Alex privately, and by that he means kiss him in a dark alien exhibit room.

Alex is all for it.

Flashback to the tool shed, same day:

Michael says he’s not a virgin, but has no experience with a guy, and none with someone he’s liked this much.

So they do it. And apparently it’s good, judging by how happy it seems to make them.

Until Sgt. Manes walks in and ruins literally everything.

Alex stands, and steps in front of Michael, although he’s clearly dreading whatever is coming next. 

Words are exchanged, and then Sgt. Manes has Alex pushed up against a wall with his hand around Alex’s neck.

Michael tries to intervene and Manes takes a hammer to Michael’s hand enough times to permanently ruin it.

And most likely prevent him from ever playing guitar again. 

Flashback to the rest of the night Rosa died:

In a bizarre twist, Max didn’t lie to Liz about the events of that night - he just didn’t tell her the whole story. Max really did go write a super sappy letter and leave it under the window wiper of the car, and he really was confronted by a drunk Rosa. Then he really did leave her there.

Rosa is drunk and upset and already has “a fraudulent zodiac” written on her hand, so she’s already been to the Wild Pony, asked Maria not to tell Isobel she was there, written on her hand, and stolen the bottle of booze.

And now we know that what she wrote on her hand was most likely a reference to Isobel.

Rosa finds Max’s letter, and somehow... in a very short time... takes it up and hides it on the roof. Before somehow ending up in the desert with the other two girls.

Meanwhile, Michael is chugging acetone to kill the pain in his hand. There’s a sudden painful ringing, and he sees a vision of the mine entrance, and of the two girls outside it.

It looks and sounds nothing like Isobel and Max’s previous psychic connection.

Somehow he knows that Isobel is in trouble so he heads for the mine.

Max has his phone up to his ear and looks about to get into his jeep when he feels the same painful whatever-it-is, and seems to know Isobel is in trouble.

Michael arrives to see the two girls dead, and gets inside the mine just in time to see Isobel apparently kill Rosa with her mind.

Because she wasn’t suffocating her... her nose was free. 

During the murdering, Isobel says to Rosa, “But I did it for you. Everything I did was for you.”

When a freaked-out Michael asks her what she’s done, she replies, “She couldn't be trusted.” then faints.

Michael assumes that Isobel also killed the other girls.

Max gets there in time to see Isobel drop, and is relieved to see she’s alive. He tries to bring Rosa back from the dead, but he can’t do it.

Max and Michael decide to cover up the murder in order to protect Isobel. 

Michael floats the bodies over to Rosa’s car.

Begging the quesiton how in the world Grant Green missed seeing the two of them walking right behind the floating girls.

They get the girls strapped in, and Isobel appears with no memory of what has happened.

Michael decides to take the fall rather than tell Isobel the truth. He claims he got into a fight with someone who wrecked his hand, got drunk, and then lost control of his telekinesis, killing the girls. 

In all the confusion of the night, this appears to be the first time Max has heard anything about Michael’s hand.

It’s unlikely Michael ever told him the real story.

Michael uses his powers to drive the girls into a tree, and then Max sets the car on fire with his powers.

Present day:

Max tells Liz that they never understood why Isobel did it, but they never asked questions and just tried to forget it.

So Max and Michael stopped hanging out because they reminded each other of what had happened, and they only wanted to forget.

And Isobel has probably spent 10 years thinking that they didn’t hang out anymore because Max was blaming Michael for killing the girls.

Max tells Liz that he wanted to tell her and came to find her “a few days later” but she was saying goodbye to her family and then she left Roswell.

Either Max isn’t being literal when he says it was a few days, or Liz left before graduating high school because Rosa died 2 weeks before graduation.

Sometime between Rosa’s death and Liz leaving, Max made it clear to his siblings that he planned to tell Liz, and they decided to have Isobel mess with her mind so she’d leave before he had the chance to tell her anything.

Liz is understandably upset that Max ruined the Ortecho family in order to protect Isobel. She’s now 1000% done with Max and tells him she never wants to see him again before leaving.

[sunsetinmyvein]

Just Off the Key of Reason - Chapter Ten - Been Looking Forward to the Future

Friday, 6th of April, 2007 - Detroit, Michigan

Now that Patrick had his precious Gretsch back in his hands, the show sounded flawless. Nobody messed up, the vocals were perfect, and there were no more accidents involving Pete punching equipment. They weren’t quite sure if it was actually the guitar or just Patrick being willing to perform better from behind his favourite instrument, but everyone was glad to be back in the groove. The crowd went wild for them and that only filled the band with even more adrenalin than what they already had.  Only one more night and they’d be back at home. The label hadn’t booked them a hometown show until the end of their tour when they came back for the second leg, but they had already had a few close friends ask for garage gigs to fill the void until they went back on tour in June. They gladly accepted. After their show in Michigan they had decided to go out for a few celebratory drinks at the closest bar to the venue. This was the last show of this leg and they had nowhere to be the next morning, no responsibilities until they got back to Chicago. They also had a bed each for their final night on tour which made going home drunk all the sweeter. Joe had said it was his aunt’s place but the grungy decorating style and stench of weed made that seem unlikely. Regardless, it had five bedrooms, a functional television and more than enough food to feed them for the 24 hours they’d be there. The plan was to start the four hour drive back home once they were sober enough to drive the next day. A few die-hard fans had already made the trip to see them play, they were faces that Joe had recognised and invited out to the bar with them.

 Pete had offered to buy everyone a round of drinks as soon as they got there, instantly becoming the fan favourite and drawing the attention of other patrons. Andy rolled his eyes as he ordered himself water instead. He shouldn’t be surprised by Pete’s love for attention from strangers by now, but it sometimes made celebrating a successful show a bit harder.

“A toast!” Pete shouted, holding up his glass. Everyone turned to look at him and did the same. “To the album, the tour and going home!” He grinned, taking a large mouthful of the drink. The small crowd shouted in agreement as the band shared a collective look of pride. Regardless of Pete’s attention seeking ways, they were still happy to celebrate how well their first ten shows had been. After the toast, the drinks were flowing pretty fast; probably because Pete kept buying them for people. People quickly congregated around the man who was all too happy to take his wallet out while the other four members of their group found a quieter table in the back to celebrate with a little less grandeur. Andy and Joe had very quickly gotten into a debate about who was more excited to go home. The former arguing that he had a girlfriend waiting for him and the latter pointing out that being at home in your own bed is better than staying in someone else’s, regardless of if you get sex in that bed or not. Patrick found himself looking at the girl sitting across from him, thinking that maybe tonight was the night to ask her on a date before they got home and parted ways for nearly two months. But whenever he tried to his heart felt like it was sitting in his throat, stopping the words from coming out.

 “So… what are you gonna do when you get back home?” She asked finally, staring into her half empty glass. He sighed in relief, glad to have something to break the silence as the other half of the table continued to argue.

“Probably mess around with some music. We’re on a bit of a break from writing and recording at the moment until we finish the tour, but I’ve got some ideas of my own.” He shrugged. She looked up at him curiously, urging him to continue. “I uh… produce music sometimes. Sometimes write my own stuff, play the instruments and all. The lyrics aren’t as good as Pete’s but the music is pretty good. Or I think so, anyway.” He admitted sheepishly.

“That’s so awesome, Pat! I’d love to hear it sometime.” She beamed up at him. “How do you manage it all yourself?”

“I have this… huge switch board thing? It… It’s hard to explain.” He laughed, “But it lets me mix all the sounds and stuff. It would be better to show you to explain it, then you can see what it does. I’ve got it at home, I’ll just show you once we’re back in Chicago.” He nodded, giving her a small smile. The thought of hanging out outside of band-related work made her pulse pick up ever so slightly. It sounded like a good step in the right direction.

“Sounds like a plan.” She grinned, holding her glass up. He tapped his to it and took a sip, an excited glint in his blue eyes. The familiar ringtone of her phone suddenly broke their conversation. She fished the phone out of her pocket, seeing her manager’s name blinking across the screen. It had been a while since she’d heard from the label, but she wasn’t expecting to hear from them until they were back in Chicago next week. “Sorry, I’ve just gotta take this.” She excused herself, pushing her way through the small crowd that had formed and into what looked like an unused coat room.

 “Hey, boss.” She answered with a laugh, trying to keep the mood light in case she was being told off for something she wasn’t aware of. Fireworks instantly came to mind.

“Hi, just calling to check in and see how it’s all going?” His voice echoed down the line.

“Excellently! The shows are going off without a hitch other than the guitar damage you are already aware of, and everyone is doing pretty well for themselves.” She found herself nodding, even though she knew he couldn’t possibly see that.

“Good to hear.” The sound of chatter and shuffling papers could be heard in the background, she assumed he probably just got out of a meeting and was asked to check in. “So Peter has been behaving since the incident on stage with the guitar?” He asked. She paused for a moment, thinking back to the lamp at the party and the interview a few days ago.

“Yep.” She lied.

“Great, I’m glad that our investment in hiring you is paying off. Hopefully soon enough he’ll stop acting out all together and you can be back here in Chicago!” His words hung in the static air for a moment as she tried to process them.

“You mean… go back to my old job?” She asked with a frown.

“Well, maybe not your old job. There’s talk of giving you a promotion for how well you’ve done with this!” He was trying to make it sound like her being back in their stuffy office would be a good thing, but that was the last thing she wanted. In the background she could hear him continue to talk about what the promotion would mean for her, but the thought of not being on tour with the guys anymore was all that ran through her mind. She didn’t want to leave; the thought hurt a lot more than she was willing to admit after only having known them for about a month. It was just too easy to fall into their routines, and they were far too easy to get along with. Even Pete had turned out pretty good in the end. His ridiculous antics normally brought humour to their days, not that she’d ever tell him that. Eventually she heard her name being called through the phone and tried to snap back to reality.

“Sorry, what did you say?” She asked, scrunching her eyes up and trying to push the thoughts to the back of her mind.

“I said drive safe and we’ll see you when you get to Chicago.” He laughed lightly as the line went dead.

  His words echoed around her head: she’d have to leave the band. It shouldn’t have come as that much of a surprise, she should have known that eventually she would be leaving the band, it wasn’t like she was going to tour with them forever. But it wasn’t something that had crossed her mind. As much as she missed her family and friends, this new life on tour was one she had already grown used to. She’d be losing four friends and going back to a job she hated. And Patrick- Patrick. Her head spun. She had only just accepted that she might have feelings for him and it was so quickly ripped out from under her. If something happened between them and then the label decided that her job was done and she needed to be back in the office, it would be heartbreaking. She couldn’t do that to him. She found herself pacing the small room, trying to think of a way out of being assigned back to a desk job. He’d called it a promotion, so maybe if she did a terrible job they wouldn’t promote her? But then they’d probably just hire someone else to be Pete’s impulse control. Maybe she could just quit? But that was too risky, what if the band didn’t want to keep her around? She’d have no reason to be there if she quit. Heading back into the bar right now seemed like a bad idea, she needed time to process this information and work out the best course of action. She sent Pete a quick text to say she would see them back at the house and left.

 “What do you mean she left?” Patrick asked with a frown as he finally cornered Pete at the bar.

“I dunno man, she just texted me saying she was going back to the house.” Pete shrugged, taking his fifth jacks and coke from the bartender greedily. He was nowhere near drunk enough to deal with the fact that people he knew had driven up to Detroit to see them play and had then followed them out for the night. Entertaining them on stage and in this bar was too much pressure for a sober Pete. But a drunk and cash-happy Pete was someone everyone loved, and being able to distract himself with stranger’s affections was something he always enjoyed.

“Why?” He pressed.

“I don’t know.” He repeated as he took a mouthful of his drink. “Why don’t you go ask her for yourself?” He asked with a sly smile.

“Well, obviously none of you are going to.” He huffed, finishing his drink and setting the glass on the bar.

“Go get ‘em, tiger.” Pete winked, pushing Patrick’s shoulder lightly.

“Shut up.” He grumbled, pulling his cap low over his eyes as he left the bar.

 She couldn’t remember the last time in the past month that she had privacy, proper privacy. Not just a room to yourself, but a whole house to yourself. By the time the taxi had dropped her off back at where they were staying for the night it was about two in the morning. Knowing how the guys liked to party and the fact that they didn’t need to leave first thing the next morning, she assumed she’d probably have a couple of hours to herself until they drunkenly stumbled through the door. At first the silence had been nice. The space and quiet had been room to think, to breathe and try to get a grasp on what might happen in the break before their second leg. She assumed it was fairly likely that she would hold her position until the end of the tour and then things would be reassessed, but that depended on what happened in the month the band was at home. Maybe in light of that Pete hadn’t cost them anything in a while they wouldn’t let her go on the second leg of tour to save on the hotel rooms and bigger tour bus. They might consider that a better cost saver than hiring her to watch Pete for another month.  If they made her keep the desk job, she might not see the band again. They’d almost certainly lose contact when they went back on tour. She found herself chewing at the side of her nail anxiously and decided maybe this house was too quiet. Maybe being left alone with her thoughts was not as an excellent idea as it had been at the bar. A few minutes later she had the TV on loud enough to be a decent distraction and a bag of potato chips in hand, deciding that it was an issue that could be dealt with later.

 The minutes dragged on into what felt like hours, and soon enough her brain was slowly starting to give way to sleep and forget about the thoughts that had been worrying her; until a knock at the door abruptly pulled her back to reality. She grudgingly pulled herself up to her feet and looked through the peephole in the door, seeing a familiar sideburn and cap clad singer on the other side.

“Pat?” She frowned as she opened the door. “You’re back early.” She moved to the side, letting him into the house.

“Yeah, Pete told me you left so I thought I’d just make sure you were all right.” He explained before shrugging off his jacket and draping it over the table next to the front door. His eyes were instantly drawn to the flickering of the TV and the half eaten bag of chips on the couch. “Couldn’t sleep?”

“Something like that.” She nodded, moving back to the couch to retrieve the bag of chips and put them back in the cupboard.

“Did you want company?” He offered, taking a step closer. The warning bells went off in her brain straight away: getting close with him meant that inevitably it will all get taken away.

“Uh, no. I might just go to bed actually.” She rushed out. He stared at her in confusion. “It… it’s pretty late.” She tried to lie, feeling like her face was probably betraying her with how red it felt.

“Oh, okay.” He swallowed hard at the hurt that pooled in his chest. She went to walk past him in the direction of the bedrooms but he caught her wrist in his grip. “It, um… I didn’t do anything, did I?” He asked anxiously as she turned to look at him. “Just you left right after we talked, and-”

“No, it’s not you.” She answered. “It’s just work stuff.”

“All right…” He nodded softly. “I know you work for our bosses and all, but if I can help all you need to do is ask.” The amount of genuine care in his eyes was enough to push her over the edge. Instantly she felt the tears threatening to spill, so she mumbled a thank you before quickly retreating to her room. Leaving him standing in the hallway alone.

[rebel-band]

Track 6. Always Tomorrow

The rain always had a soothing rhythm to Yoo-mi -- regular drumming against the sill, rumble of spring thunder somewhere in the grayish clouds -- but it rarely made him sleepy, rather more likely to venture into another marathon of focused guitar practice. At the moment he was, however, nowhere near a guitar, and stared blankly through the raindrop dotted window in the computer corner of the library, trying to force his brain to work on an essay. The words of course didn't come, at least not in the volume exceeding the minimum 300. Instead he did write down in a notebook a set of new chords to try out at home.

"You're more than welcome to come in tomorrow to use the computer," the librarian's polite yet tired voice broke the silence, and Yoo-mi checked a small pixelated clock on the screen.

He still had some time before the shift today but without a computer there was no way to add anything else to up the grade. "This is for tomorrow. Can I just print it?", he said defeated. The woman nodded, although she glanced at the clock on her way back to the counter.

Yoo-mi quickly gathered his things as the printer spat out short of 2 pages of his homework. This would need to suffice, he wasn't counting on a good score anyway. He apologized for the delay, then quickly shoved the paper into his bag. The librarian waved him a goodbye.

Quick change of shoes and a sheepish stare of two girls from class B in the locker room later, he was heading home, thinking about the first couple of weeks of school.

It was new turf and so new rules. Not wanting to fall into a cliché he had been, he obviously fell into another one. But it was far better to not be liked for being the tough and stand-offish guy than the poor fucking orphan. Another day tomorrow to prove the point.

He didn't really have much time to dwell on the drama that was his class life, and frankly didn't care much for it, as long as it didn't escalate to violence. But so far name calling behind his back was all they ever did. After all, this was a different kind of school than his mid school. A school with kids getting scholarships, playing team sports and in bands, planning festivals, trips, and study groups.

It was tough on Yoo-mi for a different reason. Getting back into the right habit, after almost a year of setting your own rules and schedule, was demanding, especially with a job on top of it. Although, he had to admit Kotarō was a surprisingly flexible boss. Unlike the jobs Yoo-mi had had at 7eleven or with the delivery runs from the fish market, he could choose his own hours at Blackbird and actually got scolded already for overdoing it with the number of shifts per week.

And it's not like Kotarō didn't want to pay for it, he was just genuinely worried about Yoo-mi working himself to an early grave, as he had put it more than once. Which is why they made an agreement he'd never be working Sundays, to give each new school week a fresh, well-rested start.

But what could you do when it was not only the money that was great on the job. It was the music part of the business that he enjoyed the most.

Every other week, Yoo-mi had met new musicians going through Blackbird. He'd helped them set up before gigs, learning the ropes firsthand from technicians or just the guys playing, if theirs was a small indie band. He played music together on sound checks and practice sessions. He learned new tricks from old seasoned bluesmen. Somehow, it didn't matter to anyone where he had come from or who he was, how many years he'd been playing and how he'd first started -- as long as their common language was music, there was no misunderstanding. They treated him like an equal.

Last week, Kate had even asked Yoo-mi to join her band on a demo. After the visit in a studio, he couldn't sleep all night from the excitement. And so five thirty in the morning he'd actually called Kobayashi to thank him for being so stubborn and insisting to meet Mika in Tokyo in the first place.

"I owe you this life." There wasn't a different way to put it.

"You owe it to yourself," came the reply from the old man.

A feeling of relief had washed over Yoo-mi then at the words, like a wave. For the first time he thought that maybe, just maybe, it was true. He deserved to decide on his own terms that this was what he wanted to do with his life.

They kept silent over the line for a while, early morning seagulls singing their song against the wind and waves, and Yoo-mi realised how much he'd actually missed the sound of the sea. He booked a bus ticket for the following Sunday shortly after.

He needed to feel the sand in his toes on the cold empty beach again; to hear the roar of the ice-cold ocean and the ticking of the clock in the warm kitchen. He needed the right people to brace for June ahead.

At this very precise moment, however, he needed to hurry.

Just as he dug out a compact black umbrella from his bag, he noticed Hikaru at the end of the corridor by the door, black gig bag on his back. He shuffled in place, switching the gaze between the phone and the view outside.

Life had a habit of throwing them in each other's way since that not exactly first but definitely more personal encounter in the music room. Yoo-mi wasn't exactly sure what to make of it but to his own surprise, here was another person in his life that he wasn't annoyed by. Maybe because Hikaru wasn't pushy or loud but he still had some nerve.

Like on that Monday after the music room meeting, when Yoo-mi ran into class at the last minute. Hikaru was still busy chatting with the class rep, and that other friend from their group. The clock rang nine and the teacher arrived soon after, and only then Yoo-mi noticed a small packet in a paper envelope on the desk. A handwritten note said "Welcome to Tokyo". There was also a doodle of an angry Godzilla holding a guitar. Inside the envelope was a set of new Gibson strings. The set Hikaru later refused to take back when confronted about it.

Or some days later, when Yoo-mi left the class to, again, eat lunch alone on a bench in the corridor, trying to avoid the unfriendly crowd and finally read the latest YG. He could hear Hikaru's group of friends joke loudly about his mom's stress cooking, and enjoy their time together over food. Then suddenly the fun stopped with loud gasps. At that moment Hikaru walked out of the classroom and handed Yoo-mi a tier of those traditional looking bento boxes filled with food.

"Mom made these to share," he said like it was the most obvious thing on Earth, and sat down by Yoo-mi with a magazine of his own to read. His smile, kind and radiant, voice genuine, even the way he said "mom" not "my mom", made it feel inclusive. Yoo-mi immediately recalled the feeling of home he'd had the first time he sat down at the table in the beach house.

"You grab some too," he offered his own lunch in return. And so they kept the ritual going once a week at least -- a surprising ray of sunlight peeking through otherwise dark clouds of Yoo-mi's class life.

These things took courage, Yoo-mi knew, judging by the sheer number of jaws dropping open and heads peering out the classroom at their sight every time. While he was used to people staring for most of his life, it was admirable for Hikaru to put himself into that weird spotlight willingly. Yet somehow, Yoo-mi had a feeling he actually enjoyed this small rebellion against their class.

"It's not gonna stop anytime soon," he said, finally catching him by the door. Hikaru startled.

"Man, why did I think riding was a great idea today," he groaned hugging his bright purple and orange longboard closer.

Yoo-mi smiled, then handed him the umbrella. "Keep it. Go home. See you tomorrow." The cold and damp air hit him in the face as he opened the door to leave.

"What? Wait!"

He could hear quick steps on the wet gravel and soon Hikaru bumped into him with the umbrella.

"I can't let you walk back in the rain," he protested, juggling the helmet, longboard, bag, and umbrella in his arms. "I live close by, I'll be fine."

"But you're gonna ruin the guitar."

He grimaced at the thought and trod closer to get the gig bag under the umbrella too, almost prodding Yoo-mi in the eye in the process. "It really makes more sense for you to hold it," he grinned apologetically, handing the umbrella back.

Yoo-mi sighed, then checked the time on his phone. "Guess I'm walking you home then."

"Guess you are."

They walked swiftly side by side, two pairs of chucks -- black and red -- peeking from under the umbrella and getting wetter by the minute.

"How's business?" Hikaru asked with the Osaka phrase and a shy smile, and he almost got it right with the pitch.

"So, so," was the standard answer, of course, and Yoo-mi thought how surprisingly accurate it was at this time of his life.

"I should have taken the hard case, I know, never thought it's going to rain that much. And it's just easier to ride with the gig bag. It's lighter," he said.

"It's a bad idea altogether."

"It's fine, I've got good reflexes. And I don't bruise easily," he laughed, "Do you skate?"

"No." Hikaru looked disappointed with the answer. "I used to surf, though."

"That's pretty neat," Hikaru beamed. "Hajima surfs too, he started last summer. But then he broke an arm in August," he glanced sideways biting slightly the right corner of his lower lip.

"Happens to the best," Yoo-mi shrugged, recalling his own bruises and bumps on the steep learning curve.

Maybe he should rebook the bus ticket for Saturday night, he thought suddenly, and then surf straight at dawn. It was May, sure, the ocean's gonna be fucking cold but he could catch some good waves already. Who knows, maybe even beat Murasaki to the first heavies before the season. He smiled at the thought.

Then he caught Hikaru staring at him with a grin. "You really enjoy surfing. Just thinking about it, right?"

He had a keen eye for observing people, Yoo-mi had to give him that.

"Is it better than guitar?"

"Please," Yoo-mi shot him a look, one eyebrow arched. "It's just a different kind of rush."

They walked in silence for a while, then Hikaru drummed fingers against the longboard. "Can I ask you a private question?"

Yoo-mi tightened the grip on the umbrella.

"And you don't have to answer," he added with a gentle smile.

"Fine." But would it be?

"Were you supposed to be a senior this year?"

Ha, so that's what this was about.

"I just thought I'd ask, everyone's dying to know," Hikaru rolled his eyes.

"What's the stakes pot right now for that one?" Yoo-mi asked and, though surprised at first, Hikaru grinned back.

"Almost 2,500 yen."

"Let it rise to 3,000, you bet on mid year, we split the cash."

Hikaru didn't even try to hide the chortle that got out of his mouth.

"I'm serious," Yoo-mi shrugged, grin on his face, "It's easy money."

"Well, tough luck, I'm not betting on any of these," he shook his head with a smile. "So what happened? Did you drop out?"

Yoo-mi ran a hand through his hair and, though the evening was quite cold, he felt a sudden hot flush crawl up his ears. He cleared his throat. "Never really started."

Hikaru's blue eyes widened. "Oh. A ronin year, huh?"

The irony of the term didn't escape him. Waif. Wanderer. Walkout. Exactly who he was. He looked away. "Something like that."

"Must've been nice, less stress with the entry exam."

Not the first one, Yoo-mi thought bitter, and felt a shiver up his right arm. He shook the umbrella to get rid of the feeling.

Hikaru paused in his steps for just a second, then aligned again with Yoo-mi. "Why didn't you attend the opening ceremony?" he asked, dropping the previous subject completely.

This was only slightly less of a mess to talk about. "They didn't let me," Yoo-mi grumbled in reply, shoving a hand into his pocket.

Hikaru titled his head. "The school? Why?"

"Didn't think I'd be a good fit."

He thought of the rejection letter full of niceties, which stated there was more applicants than the school could admit, that some candidates had "stronger personal traits" and "extracurricular credentials", and that a "particular school the student attends is less important than what the student does to develop his strengths" -- all in all, good luck and good riddance.

It was shitload of crap as far as he could tell. His score was good, he knew it. Only his social background wasn't really a picture painted as nicely as they'd like to.

If it weren't for the Black Thunder that was Mika and her quick intervention; the way she openly threatened the school board to send investigative journalists to expose the issue of denying education to someone in a "vulnerable social standing", he wouldn't be able to attend at all. Although he didn't really appreciate her calling him vulnerable, in any sense of the word.

"That's harsh."

"It is what it is," Yoo-mi shrugged. "Someone I know helped out, so, here I am."

"And why at this time? Did you finally join a club?"

Yoo-mi shook his head. "Homework. Needed a change of scenery. And a dictionary." A computer too but that was kind of harder to admit.

"Language barrier?"

"No," Yoo-mi made a face, eyes narrowed, scanning him for mockery. But there was none, his blue eyes open wide with interest at what he was going to say. "I was born in Japan. I just suck at writing. Words in general."

Hikaru smiled. "You're good at guitar, that's just a different medium to say things."

Yoo-mi couldn't agree more.

"You still in the music club, huh?" he pointed with the head to Hikaru's guitar.

"Yea, don't really have anyone else to play with," he chuckled, hugging the longboard closer again.

The tone wasn't calling Yoo-mi out but he felt a strong knot tighten inside his chest. "Shit. Sorry, busy month."

"It's OK," he smiled a weary smile back.

"No, it's not. It's just that...I'm getting a guitar." Why did he even feel the need to explain? "Needed the cash so worked a lot of extra shifts."

Hikaru perked up on the spot. "Electric?"

"Saito 622."

His mouth fell half open. "So modern. That's unusual."

Yoo-mi raised an eyebrow. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Just thought you more of a Jazzmaster or Mustang type of guy," he shrugged.

"Is that what you wanna get yourself?"

"I'm still looking for one I'd like. I may get it for my birthday in October."

"Yours is a Hummingbird, right? You might wanna get another Epiphone for starters."

"We'll see how I'm with money. There's all that stuff you want to buy with it, pedal boards and custom pickups, amps. Never used one of these before so don't even know what I'm looking for. Man, when gear acquisition syndrome hits like that, I envy you having a real job."

"I can ask if they need more help."

"Maybe over the summer. I'm usually so beat after school I can't get my thoughts together, not to mention remembering someone's orders. I don't know how you do it, to be honest, school and work, and pretty okay grades so far."

Yoo-mi sighed, "Not much of a choice really," then looked away.

Hikaru paused for a while. "Why'd you go for a Saito?" he asked, again with a gentle smile.

Why did he?

It was a fucking grey day when he first played it, after the exams at Bad Boss Guitars. The label on its display said "colourful sound". That's what it was like, really. Sparkly and vivid. The strings drew him close with every strum.

"I liked the way it sounded. Couldn't stop thinking about it since," he turned away, suddenly embarrassed with his own words.

"Love at first sight then," Hikaru snickered in reply.

As soon as they reached the third house on the quiet street, he stopped. Yoo-mi looked at the small white building with a red Mitsubishi Colt on the driveway and maple trees along the fence. For a second he wondered if he's going to catch a glimpse of Shanyao at this house, though she and Hikaru didn't look remotely related. Maybe the name was a coincidence after all.

"Do you want to come in?"

With a nervous swallow, Yoo-mi shook his head. "I have work." And shitload of trust issues, he didn't add.

"Right. And mom would't let you out until after dinner. She'd want to adopt you straight away looking like that," he chuckled at Yoo-mi's hair damp with rain, and fixed his own curl clinging to the rim of the glasses, "Got terribly overprotective since I started high school."

Before he could notice Yoo-mi's brows gathering in at the statement, he peeked behind Yoo-mi's back, and groaned. "Oh, Ants! How'd you get outside the fence again."

Yoo-mi turned his back to notice a red and white corgi run towards them, and before he could do anything, muddy paws landed first on Hikaru's then on his own shins in an excited greeting.

Hikaru whined a "Sorry," but Yoo-mi just waved it off, handing him the umbrella, and crouched down to greet the dog too.

"You're a clever boy, aren't you," he patted the completely wet triangle head and the fluffy ears, "Yes you are." The dog yapped, delighted. "He probably dug a hole somewhere along the fence."

Hikaru tilted his head with eyes wide open, "Do you have a dog?"

"Used to live with one for a while. She kept digging her way out to go to the beach," he snickered. "Now there's just this stray cat that keeps coming back to my place."

"I have two."

"Busy house."

"Always is." He pushed the dog through a gate. "Let me know when the guitar's there. Maybe we'll catch up then," he added with a small wave goodbye.

"You should come over," Yoo-mi blurted out before Hikaru stepped out from under the umbrella. He stopped immediately. "I'm not one to break a deal. I'll teach you how to use an amp, if you want."

"Yeah?" Yoo-mi had never seen a smile that big.

"Yea," he smiled too.

And one so contagious.

It took Yoo-mi 45 minutes to walk back home, by which time he felt like he was wading ankle deep in water. He changed quickly, tossed the shoes and the blazer on the radiator in the bathroom, and was down in Blackbird 20 min before his shift to warm himself with a cup of coffee.

Monday evenings were always slow, so Sado appreciated his earlier arrival and some last bit of company before finishing his shift. But then Yoo-mi was left alone in the warm outpost among the storm that was Blackbird with a hot mug and a book for the rest of the day.

Week later, during a Wednesday lunch break, just as Yoo-mi was getting up from his seat to leave the class, he was stopped by Hikaru's whine.

"God I need something sweet, help me out you guys."

It wasn't precisely directed at him as Hikaru's eyes darted from Yoo-mi to Hajima to Motoki, from over a can of cherry Coke that he chugged probably half of in one go as soon as the teacher left the room.

"And the Coke's somehow not enough?" Hajima gave him a disbelieving look, and he whined again.

"Physics drains my brain so hard I could drink a tanker of Coke and still fall from lowered sugar level."

"More likely into a coma," Yoo-mi interrupted him, hovering a 7eleven Dorayaki over his head.

"O, thank God, a chocolate one," he tried grabbing it but Yoo-mi moved it out of reach.

"Lunch first," he replied, making a pause between the words.

Hikaru groaned, looking around for support.

"Don't look at me, I agree completely," Hajima shrugged.

"And I'm not looking for trouble," Motoki laughed, raising both hands up.

"Fine, if you stay," Hikaru looked up at Yoo-mi with a grin, then moved the chair to make space for him.

Yoo-mi looked at the other guys. Hajima smiled and took out his bento box from the bag, while Motoki was clearly trying not to grin himself.

Was this a bet too, Yoo-mi wondered for a second, trying to make him join them for lunch. He sighed.

All four of them sat down comfortably with food. Well, all three of them. Yoo-mi bounced his foot against the floor, and felt his throat dry out in a second.

Where was this going? What do you say? What should you say? Thoughts raced through his head, chased by a wave of unpleasant memories, as eyes darted to the door.

"How's the guitar?"

Hikaru's calm voice from over a magazine he was browsing grounded Yoo-mi firm in present again. His blue eyes smiled with reassurance.

Guitar. That he knew well. That he could talk about. "Good." Yoo-mi let out a quiet exhale. "It's gonna be there in the next two weeks."

"Did you get a new one?"

It felt strange when Hajima asked something other than the usual school related stuff. He held strong eye contact and looked genuinely interested.

"Yes."

"Guitars are expensive, right?" he addressed Hikaru, who simply replied with a theatrical sigh, "Same with baseball gear. Pay and cry, every single time."

"But it must feel good to get a bag of cash like that in hand," Motoki laughed in reply.

Yoo-mi was getting the guitar in installments, nevertheless, he couldn't help but snort at the bag-full-of-cash image. "If you've earned it, yeah."

"Did you learn at school?" Hajima asked. "Ten-chan learned all by himself," he grinned.

Hikaru hid his face behind the magazine but Yoo-mi noticed a blush on his neck.

"I'm self-taught too."

"See? It's nothing special," he appeared back, rolling his eyes.

Hajima just shook his head. "Do you miss Osaka?" he asked Yoo-mi.

"No." And it wasn't a lie. Nothing good ever came out of there.

"Not even the takoyaki?"

"OK, maybe that."

"Yea, they don't make it here that good," Hajima snickered, "I've been once. We had a weekend family trip when I was 12, went to see the Tigers play. Have you ever been?"

Yoo-mi shook his head with a grimace. "Not really a baseball fan."

"I forgot you've been to Koshien already," Motoki addressed Hajima with a mouthful of katsu, and he beamed, clearly happy with the memory of visiting the stadium. "I only ever been to Kansai to visit my great aunt in Amagasaki, and that was frigging dull. Do you know where that is?"

Yoo-mi hesitated for a second, foot tapping in place. "I was born there."

"Really?"

"Haven't been since I was four."

"And I thought you moved a lot," Hajima pointed at Motoki, who simply nodded.

"Born in Iwata, then moved to Saitama, then finally to Tokyo three years ago," he counted on the fingers, "Did you also move because of your dad's job?"

Yoo-mi's expression tightened at the mention of that stereotypical family setup.

"Oh my God, will you look at that!" At exactly that moment, Hikaru choked loudly on a sip of Coke and threw the magazine on the desk towards Motoki, pointing over the text a bit too enthusiastically.

As the guys leaned over it and tried to work out what he meant, Hikaru sent Yoo-mi a small smile.

"What is it?" Motoki finally asked him, fed up with looking for clues.

"There's going to be another Trinity Ruin season."

Motoki rolled eyes at his friend. "Duh, we've known that for 2 months, genius."

Yoo-mi looked at Hikaru who had this innocent smile on his face now. "So...he always so overjoyed about these things?" he asked the guys, playing along, and saw Hikaru nod just ever so slightly, eyes smiling in approval.

"Yea, he's such a geek sometimes, get used to it," Motoki snorted.

"You can't blame me, it's a great series," Hikaru shrugged with a smile.

"Did you watch that special released lately online. I feel like it was just a filler."

"Didn't have Genma in it, it's not the same. I think he's the best addition to the cast really since Maki."

The conversation then moved to some other series, and they were all surprised by Yoo-mi's lack of knowledge of these things. Sure, he's known about Pokemon, Mario or Gundam, mostly from all the crap sold at Donki in Dotombori, but he'd never had a chance to enjoy it and so didn't really care. Guys here, on the other hand, seemed like they could dwell on it for hours, and they completely forgot what they were asking Yoo-mi in the first place.

The diversion wasn't maybe subtle but it worked, and he was genuinely grateful he didn't have to explain himself the first time he'd ever tried to make friends or whatever it was he was doing here.

Not that he ever really could.

"Nice act there," he addressed Hikaru as they were going through the empty classroom during cleaning duty, and he curtsied to Yoo-mi's amusement. "How did you know?"

He pulled at his collar. "I googled how'd you have an official Korean name if you were born here. Sorry."

Yoo-mi crossed arms over the chest and frowned. He never knew anyone who cared so much to be this curious. Tapping foot in place, he decided it wasn't maybe too big of a deal.

"Whatever, don't worry about it," he said, though made a note to search for his own name to see what results come up, just in case.

Hikaru shuffled in place, then made that face of his again, biting the right corner of the lower lip. "I'm sorry he's...gone."

Yoo-mi shot him a look, both eyebrows raised. "Why? Not my fault dad was a dick who bailed."

To his surprise, Hikaru snorted at the words, albeit rather joylessly.

"Sorry," he said again, checking himself, hand scraping over the face. "Jesus, I'm going to make that into a t-shirt. Mine's gone too," he added, as if to apologize for his behaviour, and tried to be casual about it, but the tremble in his voice gave him away, and there was a ghost of pain in his smile. He immediately took the dustpan to empty it to the bin of nothing.

Yoo-mi took in his slouched posture and the empty stare, and felt a painful lump in his throat. Loss, whatever the kind, was never easy to deal with. "Thanks for sticking up for me," he said after a while, and Hikaru just nodded. "You still free Saturday?"

His face immediately relaxed. "Should I bring anything?"

Yoo-mi smiled. "Well tuned strings and attitude."

"Are you two princesses done? 'Cause some of us have a life outside cleaning duty," Suzuki slid into the classroom with a mop. "Set up your lousy date like normal people, on the phone."

Yoo-mi gave her a cold stare.

He also saw Hikaru move a step away from him with a nervous swallow.

"Man, right, I don't have your number," the blue eyes widened and he reached to his pocket for a phone.

Suzuki groaned, and went back to the corridor to drag in a bucket full of water, not waiting for them anymore.

"I'll help," Hikaru rushed to lift it for her, sticking his phone into Yoo-mi's hand.

It was one of these newer smartphones, set in a vinyl phone case in what Yoo-mi thought probably all colours of the rainbow. There were multiple characters from an anime called Hyper Foolish something something, judging by the logo, and a lucky cat phone strap attached to it.

Yoo-mi looked at the new contact page on the screen. It wasn't the first time he's exchanged numbers but there was usually a very clear utilitarian purpose to it. Something you do so your boss can call you or your landlord.

It was the first time he'd had a chance to share his number with...a friend?

He was surprised that out of all words possible his brain so easily fed him exactly that one first to describe what it thought this was between him and that geeky kid over there. Then again, there was accord between them, some unspoken agreement. Like rhythm they both were comfortable playing.

It was probably the closest thing to friendship he'd ever experienced. For most of his life, people were either indifferent or simply hostile towards him. But the longer he stayed in Tokyo, the more people in his life seemed to like him, although he still wasn't used to the feeling of being liked.

Did K. ever really like him?

The question flashed in his mind for a fraction of a second, like that one flickering green neon in Dotonbori. An unwelcome cold shiver followed, Yoo-mi automatically touched the back of the neck, and froze in place.

But then a chime on Hikaru's phone brought him back to life, and the feeling was gone as fast as the memory that had caused it. He wrote down his last name and the digits, then clicked Save.

"Gotta go, before she kills me," he threw a look at Suzuki crossing the floor with a mop and an angry face, then returned the phone. In a couple of seconds, he moved out of her way and out of the classroom without a goodbye.

"Why do you still hang out with him? He's a bad influence," she huffed.

"Please, tell me, what exactly it is that he did wrong? Other than calling everyone out on their bullshit," Tennoko crossed arms over the chest, and she grimaced. "It's not his fault people like to gossip. And he's actually really cool."

"Oh he's soooo cool, he's so great," she mocked.

Tennoko felt his chest tighten as his breath hitched for a second. He braced for a hurtful slur to drop, even if jokingly.

"You sound like such a hopeless younger brother right now, seriously," she threw her head back rolling her eyes.

Tennoko sighed with relief.

"Well, you'd know," he teased back, "Suzuki Natsumi's your sister, right?"

She straightened up and tensed on the spot. "How'd you even..."

"Anyone remotely interested in music knows her. Rumour is, a successful interview with her is a deal maker for any indie band that wants to get out there. She predicts trends with absurd accuracy," he grinned.

"Yes, she's famous for that," Suzuki rolled her eyes again.

"She finished this same school."

"And never even got to university, yet everyone's talking only about her," she pressed her lips into a tight line. "Or of him. Why is it always about the weird things. Why is it that no one ever cares about--"

"Professionalism? Hard work?"

She let out a long, low sigh. "No one is talking about that."

Tennoko smiled at her. "Hello? Best entry score of the year? Captain of the winning mid school team in the prefecture Ekiden championships?"

Suzuki blinked rapidly, and a small blush crawled on her cheeks. "You heard."

"They are talking. You're just tuned to the wrong buzz," he grinned. "What do you say? Give him a chance? You didn't think I was cool, when we met."

"I still don't," she stuck out a tongue in jest, and Tennoko made a face. "Okay, Tomomi likes you so you're not all bad. And you've got good taste in music," she elbowed him to the side.

"So does he. Well, at least I think so."

"Yeah, surf rock and metal, not my style."

Tennoko grinned. "I'm thinking more indie and electronica for some reason."

[superrichlads]

about Niall: the solo era

HITS DAILY DOUBLE, SEPTEMBER 2016: ″Niall Horan is indeed inking with Steve Barnett's Capitol following another fierce signing derby… The word from people who’ve heard Niall’s record is that it’s outstanding.”

HITS DAILY DOUBLE, SEPTEMBER 2016: “Coming just after UMG’s A&R meetings in Hampshire, UK, Horan’s release is the first offering from a very important worldwide signing for the company and one of the top records of the meetings, according to many of the attendees.”

AMY WADGE, NOVEMBER 2016: “Niall’s a cracking writer, he’s got a great voice, he’s kind of got a Paul Simon thing going on, so I think there’ll be elements of country within [his album], because that’s what he likes, but at the moment he’s recording, and he’s smashing it, he’s doing so well.”

DON WAS, BLUE NOTE PRESIDENT & RECORD PRODUCER, DECEMBER 2016: "He showed up with a bunch of really great songs he wrote, he sings really well… He was thoroughly professional, humble and sweet. He spent time talking with all the musicians, hung out -- everybody loved him… He's the real deal, man. I'm so impressed with this guy."

CHRIS MARTIN, (COLDPLAY), DECEMBER 2016: “I really honestly feel that everything is a touchstone. Whether it’s Chopin or Niall from One Direction, if it’s good I’ll listen to it, and I’ll love it.”

JOE RAINEY, CAPITOL RECORDS VP PROMOTION, MARCH 2017: “I’m excited for what he’s gonna be creating, because in the few times I’ve met with him, that’s a remarkably talented man.”

GARY TRUST, BILLBOARD CO-DIRECTOR OF CHARTS, MARCH 2017: “Even if This Town is not a number one record at Top 40, it sound like to me, because it’s so intimate, I have a feeling that it’s a lot of people’s favourite song… it seems like it could really hit people on a really deep level.”

GOLF DIGEST, MARCH 2017: “One of the music industry's biggest stars—the first artist to debut at No. 1 on Billboard's Social 50 Chart with his single This Town late last year.”

LINE OF BEST FIT, MAY 2017:  “Niall Horan's new track ‘Slow Hands’ wipes the floor with all the other solo sounds that have emerged since the demise of One Direction. It's one of the year's first proper Song Of The Summer contenders and sees Horan ditch balladeering for slinky riffs and proper raunch. He's shed his squeaky clean onesie and donned a crooner coat, giving us one of the coolest, catchiest choruses of 2017 in the process.”

BILLBOARD, MAY 2017: “Slow Hands doesn’t just put his voice in a bit of a new light, the grittier, funkier tune also presents Horan’s versatility as a solo artist."

ELVIS DURAN, Z100 MORNING SHOW, MAY 2017: “When we saw you, way back at - was it Jingle Ball, in New York City? And of all the people I talked to that night and interviewed, you were the nicest, you were the nicest guy. And I just wanted - I’ve been waiting all these months to say thank you.”

RYAN SEACREST, MAY 2017: “Niall, when he comes in, to me he has the most charisma of all of them… he’s got that, he’s super-nice, and super-normal for being in One Direction and having the solo thing.”

DON HENLEY, MAY 2017: “Niall is a solid guy whose focus is right where it ought to be: on songwriting. He’s got the Irish charm and a healthy, self-effacing sense of humor, which is an essential ­survival tool in this business. I think that Niall will evolve into a resonant, thoughtful voice for his generation.”

DON WAS, MAY 2017: “Niall’s got the stuff… He drove himself to the studio, carried his own guitar, stepped up to the microphone and was great every take. If they do the Desert Trip festival in 50 years, he’ll be headlining.”

STEVE BARNETT, CAPITOL RECORDS CHAIRMAN & CEO, MAY 2017: “The absolute top in terms of professionalism, thoughtfulness, work ethic and appreciating what he’s got. You’d be proud if he was your son.”

SHAWN MENDES, MAY 2017: “I’m pretty nervous in front of other celebrities still, but he’s so calm and chill… We just started jamming out, and it didn’t feel like, ‘Oh, I’ve got to be good in front of him.’ It was complete fun, no ego, like the reason you play music in the first place.”

ELVIS DURAN, MAY 2017: “I’ll never forget this moment, when This Town - when you first released This Town… this was the first time I’d seen you perform solo, and you came out on stage - Madison Square Garden, not a bad room… you came out on stage by yourself, you and your guitar, it was just you, your guitar, and one little light shining on you, in this huge, huge arena, and you sang that song, and I was thinking: this is probably the most pure, wonderful performance we’re going to hear in a long time. I still, I still - look, I get goosebumps. When you sung the song earlier today, it took me back to that performance… you came out and sang that song and I was thinking: this guy is it, that was it, and that was the perfect song to launch with… that song, it speaks volumes about you, because it’s such a gentle, wonderful song.”

ELVIS DURAN, MAY 2017: “You sound so fantastic that no one believes that it’s live, they think we’re playing a track.”

CLARA AMFO, BBC RADIO 1, JUNE 2017: “I’ve been saying to the listeners, I do appreciate the approach you’ve taken with your solo stuff. No shade to the other guys, but you didn’t really make a big fuss, there wasn’t like these big teasers, you just kind of slyly did it, just casual, you were just chilled with it, I rate that.”

TMRW, JUNE 2017: “For a man so adored and so blindingly good at what he does, he’s modest as anything. Except for golf, he knows he’s good at golf.”

TANYA KIM, ENTERTAINMENT NOW, JUNE 2017: “This Town is one of my favourite songs of all time. Ever. In the existence of music. I have to say it’s so beautiful.”

NOTION, JUNE 2017: “Having travelled around Asia and relocated to LA, Niall is more than ready to re-enter the world of pop, and he’s doing it with surprising finesse. When he released his second single, ‘Slow Hands’, at the beginning of May, the world was taken aback. It wasn’t some radical departure from his work in 1D, it was a more mature, nuanced version of that same guitar music meets pop sound they’d come to specialise in, and more importantly it was great.”

SHANIA TWAIN, JULY 2017: “He's really wonderful. He's very organic and natural... He's a sweetheart and we get along really well. We need to write together. I think that would be a really successful, creative time.”

JULIA MICHAELS, JULY 2017:  “He actually told me he was going to cover [Issues] when we did a show together in Minneapolis and I was so flattered, and then when I heard his kind of organic approach to it I was like: oh, this is so magical. Plus, his voice is everything.”

STEVE BRAUNIAS, SPINOFF, JULY 2017: “Is Niall the best solo artist to come out of One Direction? Yes, yes he is... Life after 1D has seen Harry playing Jesus to the lepers in his head, walking on water in that endless video to his endless ballad, looking all profound and troubled and beautiful. ZZZZZZZZZZ! But good old Niall packed up his 1D bag containing a bottle of peroxide remover and got on with the business of making simple, awesome pop. ‘This Town’ was Niall as the sensitive singer-songwriter picking on his guitar. Follow-up ‘Slow Hands’ is Niall laying down a sexy falsetto to a sexy lyric, although it does include the weird line, “like sweat dripping down our dirty laundry”. There’s a raunchy version on Ellen featuring a cat on wah-wah guitar, and the one on One Love Manchester is even better – it shows Niall in his element, a  relaxed cat in a hat, in total control of his art. If it wasn’t for ‘Bad Liar’, this would have been the best song of 2017 so far.”

RAISA BRUNER, TIME MAGAZINE, SEPTEMBER 2017: “For a small country, Ireland is on a roll lately bringing out talented, moody male solo artists. First there was Hozier. Then there was the grown-up Niall Horan.”

DAVE FAWBERT, SHORTLIST, OCTOBER 2017:  “Niall, all round top lad who, in every single interview that I’ve read, has never failed to come across as anything other than a nice bloke. Having somewhat been in the shadow of Harry and Zayn in the band, his solo career has seen him move from unfancied outsider to the man most likely to be the biggest of all of them. ‘This Town’? Delicate, beautiful track. ‘Slow Hands’? Legit brilliant song. And the rest of Flicker, his debut album? Genuinely really really good.”

ZOE GILLESPIE, CAPITOL RECORDS SENIOR MANAGER, DIGITAL MARKETING, OCTOBER 2017: “talent hard work integrity respect patience hard work talent.”

CHARLES KELLEY, (LADY ANTEBELLUM), NOVEMBER 2017: “I think I may have to head up the Niall Horan fan club after tonight! Killed it at the Ryman... One of the best concerts I’ve seen in a long time, Niall Horan. Thank god for good musicians in this world.”

DAVE FAWBERT, SHORTLIST, DECEMBER 2017: “[Slow Hands] is an absolutely bloody brilliant song. Great groove, great chorus, an absolute giant earworm and no mistaking. And the rest of the album’s great too.”

KATIE LOUISE SMITH, POPBUZZ, DECEMBER 2017: [Flicker] is fucking brilliant and dare I say it, the BEST One Direction solo album so far... it was a bold move to dive head first into this ‘not-quite-pop, not-quite-rock, little-bit-country, little-bit-folk’ genre and many wondered if his fans would follow along with him. (Spoiler alert: They did. In their millions.) While you can clearly hear the influences on the album, it doesn’t sound like a who’s who of Niall paying tribute to his favourite bands… it sounds like a Niall Horan album. He’s not trying too hard. It’s cohesive. It feels genuine. It feels authentic. And you know what, it just feels right. ‘Slow Hands’ is without a doubt one of the best songs the year, he puts Ed Sheeran’s penchant for an Irish folk bop to shame on ‘On My Own’. Even his foray into country music with Maren Morris on ‘Seeing Blind’ had the entire population of Nashville inviting the Irish Prince round for Thanksgiving.”

CHRISTOPHER BUSCHER, ARTMAG, DECEMBER 2017: “[Niall] doesn’t waste time trying to be so edgy and so raunchy and just concentrates on making properly good folk-pop music.”

ANDY CUSH, SPIN, DECEMBER 2017:  “No one expected the blonde and boyish Niall Horan to emerge as the breakout artist after the breakup of One Direction last year, not from a band that also included two ridiculously good-looking born stars in Zayn Malik and Harry Styles... but neither has released anything quite as good as “Slow Hands,” Horan’s sexy and soulful second single. He brings convincing grit to a track that bends the industry’s current fetish for the sounds of the ‘70s a little further from Studio 54 and closer to Muscle Shoals, with a simple but swaggering rhythm section and infectious blues guitar line.”

DAN JACKSON, THRILLIST, DECEMBER 2017:  “Who will be the biggest star to emerge from One Direction? It's still too early to say -- post-break-up careers are a marathon, not a race -- but Niall Horan makes a convincing play for the grownup John Mayer zone on "Slow Hands," an acoustic guitar-driven R&B track about his skills as a lover.”

TAYLOR WEATHERBY, BILLBOARD, DECEMBER 2017:  “Bringing out his sexy side with daring lyrics, sultry vocals and a thumping, bluesy guitar hook was definitely worth the risk, as [Slow Hands] landed Horan his first No. 1 Pop Songs hit as a solo artist, and set the scene for his debut LP Flicker to arrive atop the Billboard 200 in October.”

STEVE BARNETT, CAPITOL RECORDS CHAIRMAN & CEO, JANUARY 2018: “We had the support of [Niall’s manager] Richard Griffiths in buying into the idea that we’re going to be three singles deep before we release the album, and he’s going to go around the world three times and try to touch those fans. Niall is really a unique young man, who’s developed a great relationship with the whole company. He’s beloved at this label. There’s a vulnerability and an authenticity about [Niall’s music]. The band’s fans could relate to that. Those transitions [from boy band to solo star] aren’t easy.”

JOHN BIRD, FEBRUARY 2018: “[One Direction] was obviously an incredible experience for him, he got to see the world… I think he really embraced it, you know, his personality allowed him to enjoy it, and yeah, he just seems very, very happy that it all happened. I don’t feel any negativity towards it at all, and like I said, we’re just lucky to get a little part of that experience, you know.”

RON HART, BILLBOARD, APRIL 2018:  "There’s no denying the Knopfler-isms of ‘On the Loose’, perhaps the strongest single off Niall Horan’s thoroughly impressive and organic solo debut Flicker."

LEWIS CAPALDI, JULY 2018:  "I say this in a few interviews, but Niall Horan is the nicest guy I’ve met in music, just the way that he carries himself is ridiculous. He’s just so nice."

JOSEPH BRYANT, OUT & ABOUT NASHVILLE, JULY 2018: “Heartfelt and honest, Horan shows a soft, sentimental side. His maturity as a musician really comes through [on So Long]. Reminiscent of those best parts of John Mayer, Horan is making his mark as the smooth charmer the soft rock/pop genre this generation is lacking. He has a fantastic career ahead of him.”

GERRY MORGAN, 180 DRUMS PODCAST, SEPTEMBER 2018: “The first time I heard one of his tracks I was driving – a car, believe it or not, and it came on the radio – it was called This Town, and I pulled over on the side of the road and I remember listening to it and I went – that is a beautiful song. And I kept on listening and at the end the DJ went, in usual DJ fashion, ‘and that was a little song by Niall Horan’, and I just texted him and said, ’This Town, I didn’t realise that was you, that’s a beautiful song and singing’. And yeah, it was a very innocent – not innocent, that’s the wrong word, there was a very pure and authentic style of writing there that I really loved from a songwriter that kind of really ticked all of the boxes for me. So yeah, I met him, we did a lot of stuff just the two of us, went out and did a lot of shows, a lot of promo runs and such, some studio stuff, and we had a really great time I’d jump at doing [anything with him again…] I was just really super-excited to represent him – I was excited because he was coming from such a pop background, like boy band vocal group pop to becoming a legit singer-songwriter, standing up there fronting his own band, with a guitar and a great voice, and he’s Irish as well, and I was just really proud and excited for people to hear what he was going to come out with – because I knew what he was going to come out with, and it was legit, and I just thought that people – other musicians and friends of mine were dubious because of maybe where he had come from, but I was like – nah, wait until you hear this. And the record has done so well, and I’m super proud of him.”

MUST MUSIC, DECEMBER 2018:  “At the start of this year, Irish singer Niall Horan scored another success with Too Much To Ask, third single from his album Flicker. A remix of this ballad topped the dance club chart, and Niall also charted on Pop & AC radio. Many doubted Niall as a solo artist, but in the end he has proven to be the strongest – commercially speaking – of the members of boy band One Direction.”

RUTHANNE CUNNINGHAM, DEEP DIVING WITH EOGHAN MCDERMOTT PODCAST, MAY 2019:  “I remember when they played me what they had started [Slow Hands], I was like: this is different from the rest of the record, not too far away. I knew it was something good, but I don't think any of us thought it would be number 1 on American radio or anything like that. But Julian was smart, he was like: OK, we have all these songs, but we need that one. And a lot of people have asked me about the production, about the way the vocals sound, and the way the instruments sound, and I really feel like Niall nailed it in the way of just taking that risk, knowing that it was a great sound for him, and not being afraid of that edgier sound, because he had done a lot of more acoustic-folksy stuff for the album. For me, whenever now I see it live and everyone's singing it, I'm like: oh, that's his song. And it's so hard, when you've been in One Direction, you know, you're like, are the fans going to be wanting to hear Best Song Ever or Story of My Life, but they're not, they want to hear Slow Hands. That's what you aim to do when you work with an artist, is to have that moment.”

JULIA MICHAELS, AMERICAN EXPRESS 5 DAY WEEKEND SHOWCASE, MAY 2019:  “This next song [What A Time] I did with an incredibly talented human being from Ireland. He's the most amazing dreamboat of a person and I love him to death."

RUTHANNE CUNNINGHAM, MAY 2019: “I wrote with Niall in February, can I just say the new music is sounding amazing, I got to hear what he’s been doing with Julian and Tobias and stuff, it sounds amazing, and I think we wrote two really great songs... I love the songs that we did.”

THOMAS RHETT, IHEARTRADIO, MAY 2019: “We’ve written a couple of songs together, I wrote with him about a month ago when he was in Nashville. Niall is such a sweet dude. I met Niall through my producer, Julian, I got to meet Niall through him, and it’s such a cool friendship.” 

MAREN MORRIS, ET, JUNE 2019: “Niall and I became such great friends. Our bands became friends on the road last year. I would love to write with him and do something in the future. He's such a great guy. He's a badass."

RUTHANNE CUNNINGHAM, SONGWRITER UNIVERSE, JUNE 2019:  "Niall had such a vision for his album—he knew what he wanted the album to sound like, and he had this book of ideas. So as a writer, it was a dream collaboration because it was so easy for me to fill in the blanks for him. And we’ve been writing together for his next album.”

JULIA MICHAELS, UMUSIC, JUNE 2019: "The first time I heard Niall sing 'we didn't end it like we were supposed to' I remember just breaking down in the studio and he coming out and giving me a hug, the minute he sung it I knew he was perfect for [What A Time] and it had to be him."

CARA CROKE, THE WHISP, JULY 2019:  “We appreciate Niall Horan for more reasons than one. He was the dark horse of One Direction, his solo album was a banger, he’s Irish (duh), and he’s absolutely hilarious on Twitter. Niall isn’t afraid to speak his mind online."

RUTHANNE CUNNINGHAM, JULY 2019: “Niall is one of my faves to write with because he’s very involved; he knows who he is as an artist – and he’s Irish, so we always have a laugh as well. It never feels like work when I’m writing with him."

JULIA MICHAELS, LADY GANG PODCAST, JULY 2019: “Niall's one of my best friends... we have such similar personalities, we're super stupid and goofy. If I had to be stranded on a desert island with someone, I'd want it to be someone I could be super silly with.”

BEATA MURPHY (KIIS FM ASSISTANT PROGRAMMING DIRECTOR & MUISCDIRECTOR) & CONNOR HATCHEY (IHEARTRADIO LA DIGITAL PRODUCER), ADD THIS PODCAST, JULY 2019: “'You know who might be in the studio that we'll hear stuff from soon? Niall.' 'Really? Oh, awesome! He was the 1D member that I— it wasn't that I didn't think he was going to put out music, but he seemed perfectly fine golfing & just chillin after they split. But then he ended up putting out This Town which was an amazing song and following it up with Flicker —and he's been like the most successful— ahaha yes! out of all of them. It's not that no one expected it— it's just that everyone put all their eggs into the Harry basket.’” 

[celebratorypenguin]

Fic: The Places Where You Bend

Rating: R for language, sexual situations, and aggressive behavior McLennon

Summary: It’s 1967, all hell is breaking loose, and Paul doesn’t know if he can do this anymore.

The Places Where You Bend

***

October, 1967

***

No power outage, no technician strike, nothing short of an earthquake, could bring the recording studios of EMI to quite as complete a standstill as one John Lennon in full strop.

John stood beneath his microphone, glasses askew, tie long-gone, shirt unbuttoned to the navel. His right hand held a crumpled lyric sheet; his left was holding the neck of his guitar far too loosely for safety. "Take the damn pop filter off," he yelled in the direction of the control room. "I want the consonants to explode!"

George Martin's voice came over the intercom, the weary schoolmaster explaining a rule to a truculent little boy. "We've been over this, John. The input capacity simply can't contain it, and you'll get clipping--"

"Which is what I want in the first place," interjected John.

"You'll get clipping, and distortion, which I know you also want, but you have to trust me to find a different way that won't wreck the control board."

"I don't need a different fucking way, I need for you to make THIS way work!" From his vantage point at the piano, Paul could see John's entire body quivering, tightly-wound. "Or else we need a different studio!"

"Johnny, stop, please," Paul murmured. He wanted to be anywhere on the planet except where he was, especially when John was in Full Bastard Mode.

"You don't know what the hell I want, Paul, not with your moon-June-spoon-loon-Hello-Goodbye granny shit, so stay out of it!"

"John," Ringo said quietly. He was halfway hidden by the screen around his drum kit, making his eyes, large and round with distress, even more piercing than usual.

"Oh, what is it YOU want?" John demanded, turning on Ringo. "Your opinion, from the very back of the room, is exactly what we don't need right now."

"John!" Louder, more forceful, this time from George, who looked up from his guitar with his brow angrily furrowed. "Stop it."

"Don't," John began, completely balling up the lyric sheet as he pointed a thin finger at George, "don't you dare start in on me. This is my song and I know how it's supposed to sound, and it's THEIR job to make it sound like that."

"So contradicting the only people in the room who know how this equipment works is your great idea?" George tossed his head and blew a stray lock of hair out of his eyes. "You're going to scream at them and insult them until you get your way?"

"Fuck you!" shouted John as he waved the Epiphone toward George. It grazed the leg of a nearby stool and flew out of his hand, landing on the floor with a sickening crack.

George was up in a flash, rushing to the guitar as if it were a child in peril. "Oh, fuck," George mumbled, his lean fingers running over the body of the instrument. "Fuck, John."

John stood still. His face, which had been an angry red, drained to a sickly greenish-white. Ringo stood up. "I think he's gonna--" He didn't have time to finish his warning before John ran to the trash can and started retching over it.

"Down," Paul said softly, coming up behind John and pressing on his shoulder so that he ended up kneeling in front of the trash can. Paul crouched behind him with one hand holding John's glasses in place and the other rubbing slow circles on his back as John gagged and spat up a clear, sickly-sour-smelling fluid.

George choked a little as the stench wafted over to him but continued examining John's guitar. Ringo covered his face with his jacket and leaned against the wall behind his drum kit.

"Is he going to be all right?" George Martin's disembodied voice held more concern and affection than anyone would have expected, given John's outburst.

"Yeah," Paul answered, not taking his eyes off of John.

"What brought all this on?" asked Ringo, who was pointedly looking away from where John was vomiting.

"He had a really bad trip last night and hasn't put anything in himself besides coffee and ciggies." Paul sighed, remembering how John had nearly bitten his head off for suggesting that a sandwich might not be the worst idea in the world.

Finished at last, John rocked back on his heels and wiped his mouth with his sleeve while Paul held his body upright. "I'm in the fucking room, you know."

"It'd have been hard to miss," George said drily, "between the tantrum and trying to use your guitar as a cricket bat. You've bent the tailpiece good and proper, and the neck needs to be reset. I don't see anything seriously broken on the body itself. This time," he added. "Try it again, and you'll need a whole new guitar."

John blinked short-sightedly and sighed. "I'm sorry," he muttered. Paul prodded him in the ribs and inclined his head toward the control room. "Sorry," John repeated. "I've had a shit day and now it's a shit night. We'd better knock off for now, all right?"

"Yes, I think that's best," George Martin assented. "Paul, will you lock up, and then see that John gets home in one piece?"

That had always been Brian's job, making sure someone was on John-sitting duty. But Brian was dead, the boys were adrift, and the day-to-day tasks had fallen on George Martin's shoulders.

Paul dragged John to his feet. "We'll just go to mine. It's closer." He peered into John's pale, sweaty face. "If you puke in my car, though, I'm tossing you out into the road. Preferably in front of a bus."

"Here, hold up a sec." Ringo loped over to them. He fished in his pocket for a moment before coming up with some wrapped pieces of candy. "Sherbet Lemons. Zak gets carsick and these are the only things that help," he said, offering the sweets to John.

"Ta, Ritchie," was all John said as he unwrapped a candy and popped it in his mouth, but Ringo seemed satisfied. He gave John a playful punch in the arm.

"Go sleep it off, wouldya? You're impossible when you're coming off the stuff."

John's lips were set in a tight line. He nodded at George, who was packing John's guitar gently in its case. "I'll see to this," George said gruffly as he followed Ringo. As the door closed, they could hear him mutter, "Never thought I'd live to feel sorry for our Paul."

"Fuck," John groaned. "Let's get out of here."

"No." Paul folded his arms and stared John down. "Not until you tell me what the hell's going on with you. Snapping at the engineers? Slinging your guitar at George? Picking a fight with RINGO, of all people?"

"Yeah. Like you said, last night was a rough trip." John covered his eyes with his hand.

"Don't fucking hide from me, John!" Paul snapped, grabbing John's wrist and wrenching his arm downward. "If you want to put your two cents' in on my music the way you always have, that's fine, but you're not gonna call it names in front of George Martin and you're sure as FUCK not gonna do it in front of Ringo and George, is that clear?"

"Since when do you get to give ME orders?" spat John.

"Since no one else has the nerve to say two words to you! Since no one does anything but run around like chickens with their heads cut off since the day Brian--"

"Don't you bring Brian into this!" John stood toe-to-toe with Paul and twisted his arm free from Paul's grasp. Red finger-marks stood out against the light skin. "This has nothing to do with him!"

"It has everything to do with him!" Paul's voice was strident, even in the muted acoustics of the studio. "You were always his little golden boy and he was twisted around your little finger--"

"And you resented him for not falling for the McCharmly allure!"

"--from the moment he whisked you off to Spain!"

Paul heard himself screaming those last words, his heart hammering as he spat verbal venom out of frustration and grief and, yes, even jealousy. He knew John was aware of every single emotion coursing through him, so he wasn't surprised at all when John spoke again in a teasing sing-song.

"I tried whisking you off to Spain, but we didn't make it there." John leaned forward, breathing hard, and rested his forehead against Paul's. His eyes sparkled with mischief. "You've been jealous? All these years?"

"Piss off, Lennon," growled Paul, acutely aware that he was becoming aroused.

"Jesus, I can't believe you! Do you know why I went with him?"

"I can fucking GUESS!" Paul shoved John in the chest, backing him up to the piano. Touching John always sparked something deep and dangerous inside of him. "So you could get everything you wanted, the hell with the rest of us."

John stumbled slightly and half-sat on the keyboard. Paul ground against him, too hard to be pleasurable for either of them. "I was trying to make sure we stayed Brian's top priorities," John said quickly, his sour breath puffing against Paul's face. "He fancied me. He liked rough trade, Paul, you knew that about him from the get-go. And I'm as rough as they come." He looked away. "You always knew that, too. You had bruises for a week after...after the night Brian died."

Fresh anger coursed through Paul at the memory of that night. John's hands, heavy and insistent on his thighs, had left purple marks that hurt almost enough to dull the pain and shock of the awful news.

Paul ground against John again, wanting to relieve the pressure in his groin, and if that meant jamming John's ass further into the sharp edge of the keyboard, so be it.

"That's right, Paul, you can take out your frustrations on me. You could treat me the way Brian liked to be treated, slap me around the way you think I deserve." John suggested. At Paul's horrified glance, he added, "You know damn well that I don't mind a bit of rough. Now and again. As long as the marks don't show."

Paul really, really did not want to know about that.

"And right now," continued John, "you're angry enough to do it."

"Maybe I am precisely that angry." Paul tried to sound convincing but his mind's eye was showing a Technicolor film of John splayed naked across the piano, begging to be fucked, and that ruined any chance of his voice conveying any toughness.

John pulled out another piece of candy from his pocket and tried to unwrap it. His fingers shook enough that he fumbled ineffectually with the paper. "Fuck. You open it."

"Why the hell should I?"

"Because I'm bloody well going to kiss you and my mouth smells like a sewer."

"You just think you're gonna kiss me," Paul panted, his hips moving rhythmically against John's. "I don't wanna kiss a bastard like you."

"Sure, you do, you're just too scared to admit it."

Paul lunged forward. Surprised, John dropped the candy and stepped on it with his heel when he overbalanced and began falling backward. His ass landed squarely on the keyboard and created a loud tone cluster. Paul's head snapped up, his eyes widening as his brain shook and cleared itself like an Etch-a-Sketch.

"You wanker, you're figuring out what notes my bum just played," John teased.

Paul flushed, caught in the act, and he started to laugh. His anger dissipated but there was a knife's edge of hysteria in his voice. He clutched John's shirt as the laughter became harsher, threatening to become sobs.

Straightening up, John let Paul lean into him. "Hey, it's all right, it's all right," he soothed. When Paul looked into John's eyes, he saw so much regret and embarrassment in them that he wondered if hearts really could shatter.

"I don't know how much longer," Paul began, then he had to stop and clear his throat. "I don't know how much longer I can keep doing this thing, trying to keep the band together, trying to keep YOU together. It's too damn hard." His knees didn't hold him up very well at this angle and he slid down to the piano bench, tugging John's sleeve until they were side by side.

"We've made a right dog's breakfast of our lives," John declared as he slipped his fingers between Paul's.

"That, we have."

"Whatever the opposite of 'toppermost of the poppermost' might be, we're in it up to our asses."

Paul let out a little sniff of a laugh. "I've tried and tried to figure it all out, but I'm not even sure what the question is, anymore."

"I often wonder that, myself," admitted John. "I wonder how we could go from aspiring musicians in Liverpool to rich, pokers-up-the-butt assholes flinging guitars at each other. How in the name of bleedin' Jesus did we get to this point, Paul?"

Unable to speak, Paul just shrugged. John turned to him and took both his hands. "It wasn't an easy question, you know. I deserve an answer. We all do."

Paul looked at the floor, at his knees, anywhere but John's penetrating brown eyes. He could feel the center of his world, the John-and-Paul of it, collapsing in on itself. "I don't know how. All I know is that I'm scared, John, I'm fucking terrified!"

John lowered his glasses to the end of his nose and peeked over the gold rims until Paul met his gaze. "It's only me, Macca," he said with a rueful half-smile.

Paul took a steadying breath. "But which 'you' are you tonight?" John, who was shading his eyes with one hand, did not answer. "John, are you falling asleep?"

"Not hardly," John said, turning slightly toward Paul. His eyes were red and wet with unshed tears. "The lights in here are too fucking bright, is all."

Sighing, Paul put his hand over John's heart, concerned by its unsteady, quick thrumming. "Just how bad was that trip last night, anyway?"

"Bad enough. I still feel like shit tonight. And then to get into those stupid fights..." He shook his head. "Maybe I'm just hopelessly fucked up." He started to put his glasses back on properly, then gave up and let them stay halfway up his nose. "Maybe you should just punch my hard fucking head into the concrete."

With a heavy heart and trembling fingers, Paul reached for John's wrist, gently this time, and placed a soft kiss at the pulse. He rolled John's sleeve up above the elbow and traced the veins at the crook. First he used his fingers, then he leaned over and licked in the same spot.

"Paul." Paul shuddered at the sheer carnality of his name when John exhaled it with such fondness. "What're you doing?"

"I don't care about your hard head," Paul whispered. "I like these places better. The places where you bend, where your skin is soft." His breath caught painfully in his throat. "Where you can still let me in."

John nodded, then kissed Paul on the forehead and let his lips linger there as he whispered, "Take me home, Paulie. We can let each other in."

They helped each other up and prepared to leave the studio, John taking the offensive trash can out into the hallway while Paul fiddled with the lock on the door. He thought about taking his guitar and bass home but decided against it. He wanted to give John his full attention tonight, give him all his love and devotion.

Because nowadays, Paul told himself as he turned out the lights, you never knew if there'd be another chance.

*** END ***