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kimpossibly · 1 year

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THE CHAIN -> e. roundtree PART FOUR: aurora

PAIRING: eddie roundtree x fem!reader WARNINGS: swearing, drinking, drugs, minor injuries, blood, very suggestive content, implied sex (NOTE: some warnings for this story include MAJOR spoilers for this series down the line, so I'll put those beneath the cut. If you don't want to get the story spoiled, then just ignore it ― but I did want to provide the chance for you to get an idea of how the story will go later down the line if you have any sensitive topics you'd like to avoid. please prioritize your mental wellbeing!)

AUTHOR'S NOTE: HIIIIIIII HI HI HI HELLO AND WELCOME TO THE FOURTH AND FINAL INSTALLMENT OF THE CHAIN! I'm so sorry this took me ten million years to write, it was really hard both time-wise and emotionally, as you'll see later...but HERE IT IS!!!!! This little story has gotten so much love since I posted the first part and it is absolutely insane. I'm almost at 800 followers now, compared to the 300-and-something I had before. It is absolutely crazy how this little plot bunny turned into something that you all really love. I'm glad that this story has brought you guys joy, and I hope I can do that one last time. So, here you go! Part four of The Chain!

WARNINGS (SPOILERS INCLUDED): reader has a life threatening illness. Discussions about death and loss, depictions of grief, hospitals

AURORA (1977-1978)

EDDIE: It started with little things, you know? The drip before the dam breaks. She would have these moments of...of absentmindedness. She'd say "I think I'm going to wear the red sweater at tonight's gig." And I'd say, "I love that one." And she'd say. "Me too." And then she'd pause, and go back to whatever the hell she was doing ― strumming on the guitar, packing for tour ― and all of a sudden she'd say, "Oh, Ed, I'm going to wear the red sweater at the show tonight." I thought maybe she was telling a joke, but she'd look up at me, waiting for a response. So I'd say, "Baby, you just told me that." And she'd say, "I did?" And I'd say, "You did." And then she'd pause again, thinking. And then she'd shrug and just say, "Oh." Oh. Like it didn't even matter that she'd just said the same thing twice and forgotten she'd even said it in the first place. I don't blame her for it. I mean, she was like the opposite of a hypochondriac. She could stitch you up when you got hurt, but she thought she was indestructible. It was all I could do to get her to see that everyone has a breaking point. Everyone has that point that they can't come back from. And I didn't know it then, but she'd already crossed it.

KAREN: The first time it happened ― the first time we really started to realize that something was up ― was during a rehearsal. I think...I think we might've been recording, actually.

Aurora was coming along better than any of them thought it was. The songs were recorded in six days. The band was in the middle of the fourth day, mid-recording of "Kill You To Try," when the drums came to a sudden halt at the song's peak.

And Billy, whose only goal was getting the album recorded so that he and Teddy could take over on the mixing, was on the verge of losing his mind.

It took him a moment to realize the drums had faded away until they were completely gone. The rhythmic guitar faded next, next the bass, and then Billy caught up, his voice breaking off and his headphones pulled away from his ears.

He turned around, an angry knot forming between his brows. "Y/n?" he said impatiently. When there was no answer, he said it again. "Y/n."

She was staring straight forward, arms fallen limp to her sides, a blank look on her face. Her eyes fluttered rapidly, more half-blinks than full stops.

Karen, who was closest to her at the keyboard, walked over and put a hand on her shoulder. "Honey, are you all right?"

And then it stopped. Y/n blinked one last time and her eyes went still. She looked around at all of them, a crease forming between her brows. "What?" she asked, looking back at their stares. "What did I do?"

DAISY: We just...we didn't know what to say.

"You zoned out, dude." Warren replied.

"I did?" she asked. There were nods. "Oh. Sorry."

They went back to recording then, mostly at Billy's insistence, but Eddie couldn't help watching Y/n through the corner of his eye for the rest of the day. She seemed fine enough for the most part, but he couldn't get rid of the sneaking suspicion that something was very, very wrong.

"Okay...okay. Mom, go, I don't need Dr. Medina getting mad at me. I'll call you in the morning. I hope the surgery goes well. Be the best damn nurse the world has ever seen. Okay, bye. Love you."

Y/n hung up the phone and jumped over the top of the couch, lying down and laying her head in Eddie's lap. Everyone else had left the house in Laurel Canyon by now, making them its only two residents. It was quieter than it was before, sometimes unsettlingly so, but they liked it. With the band becoming more and more chaotic, they both needed the quiet. Plus, they could make out in the kitchen without worrying about anyone walking in on them. That was a definite plus.

Eddie stared off into space for a moment, absentmindedly running a hand through Y/n's hair. "You ever think about getting married?"

Y/n sat up, eyes wide. "I'm sorry, what?"

"Getting married. Out of the blue. Just like Camila and Billy."

Y/n stuttered, "Camila and Billy have been together since, like, the beginning of time. We've only been together for...we can't..."

She trailed off, and Eddie's face fell. He covered it up with a shrug. "No, it's fine."

"Eddie, hey."

"No, no it's fine, I get it," he said, getting up from the couch. Yes, it was a risky thing to say. And he hadn't exactly known what to expect, but it definitely wasn't that.

Y/n got up to gently grab his wrist, stopping him in place. "Eddie, Eddie," she said gently as he reluctantly turned. He looked somewhat dejected ― it hurt her to see, so she put on her sweetest smile as she laced her fingers behind his neck. "Camila and Billy got married at three in the morning because she got knocked up. That's not me. That's not us."

He said nothing, but his features softened just the slightest bit.

"It can't be out of the blue, okay? Call me old fashioned, but I want the planning. The pretty cathedral, the stupid vows, the white dress...I want it all. And being in a rock band doesn't really coincide with that, yeah?"

Eddie just rolled his eyes at that, but there was a slight grin on his face as he did so. "Come here," she muttered, pulling him closer and hugging him tightly. He held her back, his chin resting atop her head like she'd fly away if he didn't try hard enough.

"Give me some time. We have a world tour coming up, but after that..." she trailed off with a smile. "That sound okay?"

"Yes ma'am," Eddie responded with a shit-eating grin. Now it was Y/n's turn to roll her eyes and push him away, smiling.

"Why are you in such a rush to get tied down? Aren't rockstars pretty flighty people?"

"I'll let you know you when I see one," Eddie said, and pulled her in to kiss her.

Billy and Daisy were nowhere to be seen. Daisy Jones & The Six's World Tour of Aurora was set to begin in less than a month, and their main attraction was missing from rehearsal. The rest of the band sat around like sitting ducks, fiddling with their instruments like they had no purpose. Well, right then, it was like they didn't. Without Billy or Daisy...practice almost wasn't worth it.

And eventually, Eddie had had it. "Okay," he said, standing up, "this is bullshit. Just because Billy and Daisy aren't here, we have to sit with our thumbs up our asses?"

Warren paused. "Yeah, basically."

Eddie shook his head, giving a bitter laugh. "Yeah, fuck that. Up."

He slung his guitar over his shoulder as they all reluctantly got up, groaning in exasperation. Y/n took her seat behind the drums, Karen got behind the keys, and Warren picked up his guitar. And Eddie headed for the mic, causing a few confused glances between the other band members.

"Hey, Ed?" Y/n called. "What the fuck are you doing?"

"What does it look like I'm doing? We're going to rehearse."

"Yeah, but...you're not going to sing, are you?" Graham said.

Y/n threw a drumstick at him. "Dude."

Warren and Karen held back laughter. Eddie looked around the room, eyebrows raised. "Fine. Anyone else want to volunteer?" he asked. "Please, someone else take over."

No one moved to take his place. Eddie nodded. "That's what I thought. Okay, let's start with Regret Me."

"You're going to sing Daisy's part?" Y/n said, eyebrows raised.

"Nope," Eddie responded. "You are."

Y/n froze. For a moment she thought that might've been a joke.

KAREN: She looked like a deer in headlights. I knew Eddie wouldn't ask me, probably because he was still a little scared of me. But Y/n always hated being front and center. She looked like she was going to be sick.

Eddie beckoned her forward. She looked at the others for help, but all she got in return was wide-eyed looks and desperate shrugs. She looked back at Eddie. "N-No! I-I have to do the drums!"

"Teddy can play the drums. Right, Teddy?"

Caught off-guard, Teddy pressed the speaker button. "Um, sure?"

As Teddy came from the booth into the studio, Eddie walked over to where Y/n sat behind the drums. She had shrunk down as if to hide herself. She stared up at Eddie as though he were about to lead her to the slaughter. "What the fuck are you doing?" she said in a harsh whisper. "I'll kill you, you know. The second we get home, I'm taking the bat and crushing your fucking kneecaps."

Eddie just laughed as he took her hand to guide her to the mic with him. "I know you can do this," he muttered, quiet enough so that only she could hear, "I've heard you sing it."

"In the shower."

"Still counts."

She resisted the urge to slap him right then, looking around at the rest of the band. "If any one of you ever bring this up ever again―"

"Yeah, yeah, save the death threats," Warren said. "Can we all just shut up and rehearse?"

"Oh, now you have a sense of urgency." Y/n muttered.

After one final look around, Graham counted them in, and the song began. And Y/n who had no instrument to play, only stood a solid foot away from the mic, her heart beating so quickly that she could feel it in her skull. Eddie gently took her hand to pull her closer. When he opened his mouth to sing, hers stayed shut.

"You regret me and I regret you," he sang alone. "Except I don't care what you're feeling and I don't need your reprove."

He squeezed her hand, trying to encourage her with only his eyes. And then, quietly, she joined in on the next line.

"I'm a slippage in the system with a natural gift, how I move," he found himself starting to sing through a smile, "So go ahead and regret me but I'm beating you to it, dude."

The chorus was approaching, making Y/n feeling more and more like she was going to throw up. The logical part of her knew that she wouldn't burst into flame if her voice cracked. But the other part? The other part of her wanted to punch Eddie in the face for ever bringing her within a five foot radius of this mic.

"You regret me and I regret you!"

WARREN: They had that chemistry that Billy and Daisy had, but it felt more…lived in. Daisy and Billy were like two pieces of flint that you’d knock together. Sparks would fly and hey, maybe something would catch on fire. Eddie and Y/n were like a bonfire. Controlled. And, if you stood a good enough distance away, you could see how nice it was. It wasn’t as exciting, but it sure was good enough to take the place of the real thing.

She gained confidence the more that she sang. Whether it was the fact that her voice held on or the fact that she got to stand so close to Eddie, she didn't know, but she felt okay.

"Go ahead and regret me, but I'm beating you to it, dude." Y/n finished the song with a smile at Eddie, her face flushed. It took her a moment to realize that the room around her was silent.

Her smile fell. "What?"

"Nothing," Graham said. "That was great. Um...what about Honeycomb?"

Everyone nodded in agreement, going back to their instrument. Eddie pulled Y/n to his side, pressing a kiss to her head. "Told ya."

She suppressed a smile. "Shut up."

EDDIE: The lead up to the tour, I think. That was when things got really weird. She was tired all the time, no matter how much sleep she got. I mean, yeah, we were recording an album and getting ready for a world tour, but it wasn't like normal. We'd come home and she'd go straight to be, sleep until the morning, wake up, and an hour later she'd be yawning again. For a while I thought she might've just been tired of me [laughs].

"Y/n, come on. Time to get up," Eddie said quietly, crouching beside their bed to be at her eye level. Her eyes blinked open reluctantly and she groaned, rolling over.

"My head is killing me."

"I'll get you some Advil."

"No, no, I got it," she said, and then proceeded to lay in bed, eyes shut, curled under the blankets.

After a few moments, Eddie spoke. "Y/n?"

"Five more minutes."

He laughed quietly. "Come here," he said, sliding one arm under her back and one under her legs, scooping her up into his arms.

She wrapped an arm around his shoulders gratefully, burying her head in his neck. "Wow, you're so strong," she said with a little giggle.

"Yeah, yeah. I can still throw you down the stairs."

"Ooh, I'm counting on it."

They went to rehearsal―where, luckily, Daisy and Billy were already located―and got to work. Eddie kept an eye on Y/n out of the corner of his eye. Her headache had worsened on the drive there despite her taking more pain pills than was probably necessary. She played just fine, but she cringed ever so often at the punctuated hit of a hi-hat. He thought about taking her off the drums for a bit and putting Teddy in her place, but she'd just get angry at him.

In the middle of Let Me Down Easy, the drums stopped suddenly, drum sticks clattering to the floor. Everyone looked up to see Y/n sprinting out of the room, a hand clamped over her mouth. Eddie froze. Karen was the first to move, running after her to make sure she was all right.

They all stood in silence for a minute or two, unsure of how to proceed. Karen came back, running a hand through her hair. "She just got sick. She's fine now, but I think we should give her a minute."

"What, does she have the flu or something?" Graham asked.

"Maybe she's pregnant," Camila suggested. Everyone turned to look at her at once. She blinked. "What?"

Eddie left the room then, feeling like he was about to be sick himself. The bathroom door was ajar when he got there. Y/n was sitting on the floor when he walked in, knees tucked to her chest, her head propped up by one palm.

"Hi," she croaked.

"Hi. You okay?" he asked, sitting beside her.

"Fucking fabulous," she replied with a slight grin.

He smiled and kissed her forehead, wrapping an arm around her. "D'you think that maybe it's time you see a doctor? I mean, the headache, you're tired all the time, and now this?"

"No, no," she waved her hand to brush that away. "I get like this sometimes. It's like allergies. It's whatever. I'll ask my mom on the phone later. She's never failed me."

Eddie nodded, going silent for a moment. "Are you maybe...do you think you might be pregnant?"

"No, I'm―" Y/n began, then cut herself off. She paused for a moment, thinking. Then she turned back to Eddie, eyes wide. "Um."

Cut to the two of them in the bathroom at midnight, Eddie pacing and Y/n staring at a little pregnancy test on the counter. It had taken them nearly half a dozen drug stores to find a regular pregnancy test, not to mention the fact that they grew more and more panicked with every second that passed.

"What if―"

"Nope, no," Eddie cut her off, "We are not playing the What If game right now. Whatever happens happens, and we'll deal with it."

Y/n nodded, pursing her lips. "But, what if―"

"Y/n, no."

After a few minutes of anxious silence, Y/n exclaimed. "Look, I see a line!"

Eddie quit his pacing to rush to her side, looking down at the test. "What does that mean?"

"Two lines means I'm pregnant."

"There's only one."

"I know that, Eddie."

"Well, what does that mean?"

And then they were scrambling for the box, looking for the instructions they worried they might've accidentally tossed out. Once the box assured them that one line meant Y/n was definitely not pregnant, they both let out a sigh of relief, Y/n slumping over the counter in exhausted victory. "I feel like we should take several rounds of shots right now."

Eddie wrapped his arms around her waist. "Thank God, I was about to call Karen's priest."

She laughed, feeling giddy.

"Would it have been the worst thing In the world, though?" he asked.

Y/n turned her head to look up at him. "Sweetheart, we're about to leave for a world tour. The timing isn't exactly ideal," she paused. "But no, it wouldn't have been the worst thing ever. I mean, I would have a lot to explain to my extremely Catholic grandparents, but no, I wouldn't be entirely devastated."

Eddie couldn't stop a smile that spread out of her sight. "First you want to marry me and now you want to have my children? God, are you obsessed with me or something?"

She gasped in mock offense, tearing herself from her grip and glaring at him. "You precocious son of a bitch."

"Careful, you might accidentally turn me on."

She narrowed her eyes, staring at him for a moment. Then, quick as a flash, she turned and ran to the bedroom. Eddie chased after her, their screams of laughter floating up through the ceiling as he slammed the door behind them.

AURORA WORLD TOUR (1978-1979)

WARREN: Tour life was crazy, man. It always had been, but that one was insane. Daisy and Billy had it out in Rolling Stone, and everyone wanted to see their little shitshow. I'm not saying that their blowup was what rocketed us to the top...but it fuckin' was. Drama, man. The people eat it up.

Daisy Jones & The Six was the shit. Everywhere they went, massive crowds followed. Record sales were at an all-time high. Everyone knew the band. They were on top of the world.

Eddie thought every day about taking a knee and proposing to Y/n. In the middle of a show, even. He'd do it in the dead of night. They never tired of each other, no matter how long they were together. They were attached at the hip until they were forced away, which, now that they were on tour together, wasn't often.

They had made a routine. Wake up, rehearse with the band for a couple hours, and then go walk around whatever city they were in. Then they'd play the show, go to a party, and go back to their hotel room. They clung to each other through all of it. Eddie wasn't quite sure what the terms of common law marriage were, but he was sure that they would meet all of them. But he'd wait until the tour was over, just like she said. And then he'd marry her. That much he knew.

When they got to Chicago around early July, it was set to be their biggest show of the tour.

KAREN: Tensions were high. I don't think the two of them noticed, or they were too in love to care.

They stood backstage, the sounds of the crowd growing louder and louder as more people arrived.

Camila turned to wish her good luck with a smile, but it quickly faded. "Oh, honey, your nose."

Y/n frowned, then felt a drip. She swiped her thumb underneath her nose and it came away slick with blood. "Oh," she muttered, "oops."

"Are you alright?" she asked in a very mom-way.

"Yeah, feeling okay," Y/n nodded. "Goodnight, Julia."

Camila rocked her daughter, "Say bye-bye, Julia."

Julia lifted a hand and made a grabby motion in farewell. Y/n giggled and did the same back, still holding her nose. "Bye, Squishy," she said, poking one of Julia's little dimples. The girl giggled and clung to her mom, disappearing out of sight.

She staunched the blood as best she could once she found tissues, stashing bloody tissues in her bag rather than the trash can so as not to worry anyone. She swiped on some glitter anywhere that would catch the light. Eddie came in as she was tying her hair up. He pressed a kiss to her cheek and she wrapped her arms around him, laying her head on his shoulder.

The moment her eyes closed, she got this feeling like she wanted nothing more than to let them stay closed, to drift away into sleep right there. She was tired. There were thousands of screaming people out there waiting for her, and all she could think about was getting to sleep as soon as possible.

"Maybe this tour is it," she muttered into Eddie's shoulder.

"What?"

She paused, trying to form a thought into words. "After this. I don't know if I can do it again."

They pulled apart and Y/n saw a crease between Eddie's brows. "What makes you say that?"

Before she got a moment to figure out what exactly made her come to that conclusion, she was being pulled forward onto the stage by Warren. The crowd came to a deafening roar as they appeared, and Y/n waved and smiled like she had done a hundred times, taking her place behind the drums.

They all picked up their instruments, and then Billy turned and gave Y/n the nod. The first drum hit of 'Aurora' rang out, and the show began.

EDDIE: The show was great. We all played great, the crowd was great, it was all...[pauses] it was great.

The set was coming to a close. They had played through nearly the entirety of the album, throwing in some older songs of theirs. But the crowd had ceaselessly been chanting for one song in particular, one that had purposely been left off the setlist for the entirety of the tour: Look At Us Now.

Everyone looked around at each other, then at Billy. He glanced back at them as if asking permission. They each gave a nod, and Daisy turned back to the mic. "Who wants to hear Honeycomb?"

The screams of the crowd that followed were enough to answer that question. Billy looked back at all of them again. "You know what to do."

Billy picked up an acoustic guitar from the side of the stage and came back. He tapped his foot a couple times to set the pace, and then he began to play.

The crowd sang every word with them, for them at times. And Y/n selfishly thought she had the best seat in the house. From the back of the stage, she could see it all. The crowd, the band, and everything in between. How could she let this go? This tour couldn't be the end of it all. She decided right then that she wouldn't let it. Not when there were views like this in the world and she was one of the few that got to see it.

And in an instant, it all went haywire.

Daisy and Billy were so caught up in the song for a moment that they both failed to notice as the drums grew more and more muddled until they stopped all together. Drum sticks clattered to the ground, heads snapping in their direction. Thousands of eyes saw as Y/n slumped out of her seat, collapsing on the ground beside the drums.

Instruments were dropped haphazardly as everyone on that stage stopped what they were doing to rush to the drum set. Rod left his spot in the wings to see for himself as Y/n laid stiff on the ground, seizing.

What followed was a rush of colors and light, of ambulances and ceilings, none of which she could really see or understand. But Eddie could. Eddie saw and understood all of it. And that, possibly, was the worst part.

Y/n woke up not long after, feeling as though she had just woken up from restless sleep. She asked quick questions, which were answered in short, quick words by Billy and Camila. Who she really wanted to speak to was Eddie, but he was laser focused on whatever needed to happen next. All he could do was hold her hand and squeeze back.

By the time she was in her hospital bed, she was convinced that she was perfectly fine. The part she was most upset about was ending the concert early―which, she assured them, would not happen again.

"After I get treated for whatever this is, I can come back, right? Rod?"

"Calm down, kid. You just had a seizure. Give yourself some time to be overdramatic before you get back on the road," he said with a slight chuckle.

"Miss L/n, have you ever had a history of epileptic seizures?" the nurse in the room asked. Y/n shook her head, and the nurse gave a nod. "I'll be right back with the doctor."

She left, and Warren suddenly gave a shiver. "Fucking hate hospitals."

Y/n shrugged. "I basically grew up in one."

"Ah, so that's why you're...you."

Several people had to dodge as Y/n hurled a pillow at him. Then, realizing it was the only one she had, she pouted. "Give it back."

"Oh, this pillow? The one you threw at me?" Warren said, being annoying as usual. "No way, sister. This is my property now. Bequeathed to me by your sorry arm muscles."

"I'll beat you up as soon as I get out of this bed."

"Sure you will, honey."

The door to her room opened and the doctor stepped in. He was tall, older, and graying a bit at the ends. "Hi there," he greeted. "I'm Doctor Lawrence."

Y/n waved, and he suddenly seemed to realize how many people were in the room. "I'm sorry, I'm afraid only family are allowed in here," he said.

Y/n immediately grabbed Eddie by the wrist. "He's my husband!" she said. Everyone quieted. "And they're my brothers," she looked at Billy and Graham, "sister-in-laws," she glanced over at Camila and Karen, "he's my cousin," she nodded to Warren, "and he's my weird uncle," she said, looking at Rod. Then she looked back at the doctor. "They're my family."

The doctor didn't believe a word she'd said. But after a moment of silence, he nodded to the group. "You can stay."

Y/n sighed in relief, lacing her fingers with Eddie's. If anything were to happen that night, she'd rather have him by her side.

Doctor Lawrence asked her a couple menial questions, then rambled a bit about what exactly seizures are (which, of course, she already knew) and suggested a CT scan to better understand what was going on. She agreed.

The next few hours were rather boring. Silences were punctuated with pain, as Y/n grew to realize how stiff her neck was. Her arms and legs were sore, but that, she assumed, was from the seizure.

"It's too bright in here," she commented when she was returned to her room. "Can I turn the lights down a little?"

People milled about. Camila had to go to be with Julia and the twins. Graham and Karen got coffee. Warren and Rod sat around her hospital room, competing to see who had the crazier stories (the winner, of course, was Rod). Eddie sat beside Y/n on the hospital bed the entire time, talking to her as she came in and out of consciousness

One of the times her eyes blinked open, she frowned, looking around in confusion. "Where the hell am I?"

Eddie paused. "You're in the hospital, Y/n."

Her eyes widened. "Why?"

"You...you had a seizure."

"Oh," she said. He felt her flex her fingers in his. "My hands feel weird. I can't feel your hand."

Eddie began to panic. She was treating every new horrible thing as though it were a new science fact she had just learned. "Y/n, what―"

Doctor Lawrence returned then, Karen and Graham trailing behind him. Billy returned not soon after. The only one not pale and freaked out was Y/n, who seemed content braiding small strands of her hair.

"The CT scan came back. She has a severe case of encephalitis."

Everyone looked around, most of them either hearing that word for the first time or not knowing what it is. Y/n did. "How? Meningitis?"

"Hard to say. It probably started out as a virus, something that triggered a strong autoimmune response."

"Can I take an antiviral to treat it?"

"Sorry, can someone explain what the fuck you're saying?" Warren finally asked.

Y/n sighed, letting go of her third braid. "My brain is inflamed, and it's swelling. It's pressing on my brain stem and it caused the seizure."

"That sounds...bad?" Graham said.

"Yeah, but it can be treated," Y/n said with a shrug. "I'll need to take antivirals for a bit, right?"

The doctor paused. "Yes, you would for a less severe case."

Her eyes narrowed. "So, what do I do for my case?"

He went silent. Y/n froze. Everyone looked to the doctor, who seemed unsure of how to continue. "I'm sorry."

Y/n understood what he was saying. She felt her sore muscles stiffen up again, this time from panic. "You're saying there's nothing? Do I just have it let it go away on its own, or...?"

"A case this advanced won't go away on its own."

"Well, if it won't go away on its own and we can't treat it, then...then what?" she asked, her voice becoming more panicked. "What do I do? Tell me what to do, I'll do it."

Lawrence just shook his head again. "I'm so sorry. I'll give you all a minute to figure out how you want to proceed."

He left then, and everyone was silent.

"Y/n," Eddie said, his voice quiet and careful, "what does that mean?"

She was staring at the blanket over her legs, eyes blank. "Can someone please get my mom on the phone please?" she asked quietly.

"Y/n, what does it mean?"

"It can't be treated. It's not going to go away on its own, it'll just get worse," she said in a quiet, calculated voice, like she was reading from a textbook. "It'll put more and more pressure on my brain stem. And the brain stem regulates circulation and breathing, so..."

Karen let out a sob, her hand reaching up to cover her mouth. Y/n couldn't bear to look up at the faces around her, because she knew she'd see a reflection of exactly what she was feeling right then: hopelessness.

It meant that she was already gone.

"Someone get my mom on the phone. Please."

The night that followed was awful. Camila returned, having finally found someone to watch Julia and the twins. Y/n had watched as Billy told her the news. She teared up, tears streaming down her face within minutes. But she shoved them away as she walked into the room to give Y/n a hug. She chatted about how Julia missed her. She did a good job of keeping the conversation off of the obvious. Y/n was glad for it.

Eddie ended up beside Y/n on her bed. She curled into his side, floating in and out of consciousness. She seized twice more, once just past one in the morning, once after the sun had just started to come up.

Her mom arrived on a flight from Pittsburgh at two. The first time Y/n cried was when she saw her walk into the room.

The morning brought some sense of comfort. Karen and Billy went out to get coffee and bagels for everyone. They all sat around and talked about something other than music, which they hadn't done as a group in years, maybe in forever.

Y/n glanced up at Eddie at some point during the conversation and noticed that he had a strange look on his face. "What?" she asked, nudging him.

Eddie looked down at her, a million thoughts in his head at once, all of which combined to form one coherent sentence.

EDDIE: I told her right then and there that I wanted to marry her. I didn't care how much time she had left. I wanted to call her my wife.

KAREN: When I looked at Y/n, I could just tell...he didn't have to say it twice.

GRAHAM: It all happened so fast from there. Karen called the minister that had done Camila and Billy's wedding ― once we told him the circumstances, he was pretty quick to agree to officiate. That guy was metal, man. He'd done two last-minute weddings for a rock band within two years. Show me another priest who could brag about that. Not that priests brag, right? Jesus was humble and shit. But you know what I mean.

CAMILA: Eddie left to get a tux. He said he wanted to do his part, even if Y/n was wearing a hospital gown.

EDDIE: I think I said something really cheesy about how, if she could look that good in a hospital bed, then I could at least do my best to look the part of a groom. She loved it.

KAREN: Graham went with him, for "style advice," is how I think he phrased it. Really I think he just went to make sure he had someone there with him. None of us really wanted to leave Eddie alone.

GRAHAM: I think we got the first one that fit. He wore it as we left the place. Eddie wasn't screwing around. He was giddy the whole time. He would go dead silent for a few minutes and then talk my ear off for another few. All in all, I think we were gone for maybe forty-five minutes. An hour, tops. We didn't know...we didn't realize they couldn't call us if something happened.

KAREN: It happened so fast. She was so excited, she was talking so quickly I could barely understand her. But she was beaming at us the whole time. You couldn't help but be happy for her.

BILLY: Twenty minutes after they left, she asked for something. Ice chips, I think. The nurses gave them to her all the time, she was kind of addicted. She asked if we could get her some, and Karen said something stupid like, "I'd get you a private jet if you asked for it." And she laughed and said "Don't tell me that ― I might ask, just to see you sweat."

DAISY: Billy left the room to get her some ice and then...I'm no doctor, I can't tell you exactly what happened.

CAMILA: She started seizing up again, so Karen and I tried to put her on her side, but she started fighting us. Like, smacking us away whenever we tried to touch her. I don't know if it was her or...[Pause] something other than her. That's the kind of thing that keeps me up, you know? She was so happy to get married. So happy. But when she hit us away...it was almost like she knew exactly what she was doing.

KAREN: The doctors came in and shooed us back out into the waiting room. Camila didn't want to let go. Neither did I. They practically had to pull us off of her. Billy found us out there, still holding the ice chips, and Camila just started bawling. She didn't say anything, but I think he could piece together what it was that'd happened.

DAISY: Karen sat down. Billy stayed up with Camila, holding her while the ice in the cup started melting down to water. We couldn't have been out there more than ten minutes when the doctor came out. The look she gave us...we just knew. We knew.

BILLY: Camila was almost screaming. Karen left; we didn't ask where she was going. All of a sudden, it was like...like the first time I ever took a punch. You know, you've heard about getting in a fight and taking a hit so hard it makes your head spin. And then there's the first time it really happens to you, when you take your first punch. And there's this brief moment in between the hit and the pain. You know it's coming, but there's that delay before it gets you. In a second, you get the air knocked out of you, and then...[Shakes head] and then it hits you. It didn't feel like losing a friend, either. I lost a sister.

KAREN: I was just completely blindsided. I walked out, not really knowing where I was going. I felt like I was going to puke, and I didn't want to do that in front of everyone. I think we all forgot, you know, that Graham and Eddie were out...

CAMILA: I remember looking over Billy's shoulder, seeing the car drive back up and Eddie stepped out in the tux. He was holding a bouquet of flowers in his hands, talking a mile a minute, and I just...[Chokes up] I couldn't tell him.

BILLY: He walked into the room, and he saw her, and...God, he just...he pulled out this little box from his pocket. He took her hand, opened the box, and put the ring on her finger. He kissed her on the forehead, and then he left.

KAREN: Camila was his first love, yeah. But Y/n? She was the love of his life, man. He had something people would die for, kill for. And the minute he realized it, the minute he realized what he had, the universe snatched it away from him. Life is un-fucking-fair, man. Always has been and always will be.

CAMILA: God, he really loved her. He really did.

When Eddie got the call, he was surprised to hear that she wanted to speak to him directly. Even more so, he was surprised to hear that someone wanted to write a book about the band. He had always been a firm believer in leaving the past in the past, but she was persistent. Plus, he couldn't say no. Not to her.

They met in a park near the coast. They chatted about life, what she was doing, what he was doing, and it was the general consensus that all was good and well.

"So, where should I start?" he asked as she hit record on the camera.

Julia stepped back from the camera. "Just...tell me about Y/n."

He paused, caught off-guard. And then, he smiled. "This might be a while."

EDDIE: It's not all bad anymore. I got time with her. I'll always wish I had more, but the time I got...it was great. It was the best time I've ever had. But I was able to move on, meet someone new. I think about her every day, and I always will, you know? A person like Y/n...that doesn't leave you. And Jesus Christ am I grateful for that. Julia...I'm really glad you're doing this. Your Aunt Y/n would've loved it.

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#daisy jones & the six #daisy jones & the six fanfiction #daisy jones and the six fanfiction #eddie roundtree #eddie roundtree x reader #billy dunne #graham dunne #karen sirko #daisy jones #camila dunne #warren rojas #warren rhodes #rod reyes #eddie roundtree fluff #the chain

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meropegaaunt · 1 year

Text

EVENTUALLY

Billy Dunne x reader

Implied eventual Graham Dunne x reader

Can be read as a stand-alone or as a sequel to West Coast

Summary: You grow apart from your childhood best friend, Billy.

Warnings: Angst, drug abuse, alcohol abuse, a non-detailed mention of childbirth, implied cheating, and attempted kissing

Word Count: 4,940 words

Author’s Note: If anyone would be interested in a third part of this fic, please let me know in the comments!

BILLY DUNNE (lead singer, The Six): I don’t remember exactly when it happened, but at one point or another, things between Y/N and I changed. They started to pull away, to keep me at arm’s length, and that . . . that hurt more than I can put into words. For twelve years, we had been inseparable, then boom. Just like that, we were separated.

Don’t get me wrong. I was happy with Camila, happier than I had been in ages, but can one truly find joy without their best friend? No, I don’t think they can.

ੈ✩‧₊˚

Billy and Camila getting together served as a wake-up call. At some point in 1969, you had unknowingly developed feelings for him, had let him into your heart, but now that he was off the market, you felt the need to take a step back, to figure out who you were without your best friend. So you stopped going over to the Dunne household every day, instead opting to spend time with your father or your other friends. As expected, Billy took note of your absence, but when he pushed you for an explanation, you assured him all was well. The year before, he would have immediately noticed that your voice had cracked when offering assurance, revealing your words to be false. Now, though, he was distracted, his mind so wrapped up in other things that he did not notice. (Or so you thought . . .)

Despite the wide berth you were giving Billy, you still saw him at band practice. As per usual, the two of you played side by side, giving your all to the music, and while your musical talents continued to grow, something was off. A tension could be heard, one that neither of you were willing to acknowledge even after Chuck left . . .

His departure was completely unexpected, blindsiding not only you but the rest of the band, because he had been quiet in his discontent, not telling anyone he was going to leave until there was no other choice. He had to, because you had all rode up his stone-paved driveway in Warren’s rickety, beat-up van, expecting to practice, only to realize that the door to Chuck’s garage, your designated practice space, was closed.

“Ah, there he is,” Eddie breathed, kicking open the back door of the van, a half-smoked cigarette hanging from his lips. Out of the back spilled you, him, and Graham, your features all a mask of confusion.

“Hey, Chuck,” you greeted, offering him a wide, sunny smile. The kind that could calm even the most nerve-addled man, because he looked to be in need of assurance. “We‘ve been calling all morning. What’s up?”

There was no time for him to answer, though, before Warren and Billy emerged from the front of the van, the former suspiciously eyeing the closed garage door. “Why’s the garage door closed?”

A beat of tense silence trickled by, depriving the space around you of oxygen, then, “Look, I don’t know how to say this, so I’m just gonna say it. I got into college.”

Warren glanced at you, unable to suppress the soft, surprised chuckle that escaped his mouth. “Huh, all right.”

Your own mouth curved downward in response, showing that you had mixed emotions about the whole ordeal. On one hand, this was good news. Chuck had always been smart, the type that could go far with his brain so long as he applied himself. You could, too, but scholarly pursuits had never appealed to you, not the way music had. Four more years in a classroom personally sounded like torture to you, but if that was what Chuck wanted, then so be it. On the other hand, though, him going to college meant the band would be down both a bassist and a practice space.

“Bro, we didn’t even know you applied,” Graham pointed out, sparing a glance at the rest of the band. No one had a clue about Chuck applying to college until this very moment, because he had stayed silent, closed-lipped.

“Was this, like, before or after I spent all my money on this van?” Warren asked, his surprise bordering the line of disbelief.

“I know. I’m sorry, it’s just . . . they have a really good dental program.”

That was shocking, so much so that it was now your turn for disbelief. “You’re gonna be a dentist?”

“I don’t know. I guess so.”

“Chuck, come on,” Billy huffed, stepping closer to him in an effort to get through to him, to sway his decision. “Please don’t do this. All right? Not now. Not when things are just starting to happen.”

Chuck had thought long and hard about his decision, which was why he stayed firm, hard as stone. “What do you mean, ‘just starting to happen’?”

“Dude, we open for the Winters on Thursday, and that’s just the beginning.”

“This is a real opportunity.”

“So is this.”

“Billy,” Chuck released a deep, exasperated sigh, one that showed just how much he had thought this over. He would not be swayed, even when his closest friends begged him to. “I know this is your dream, man, but just because you want something to happen doesn’t mean it’s going to. Do you really think that there’s a future here?”

“Well, yeah. Chuck, I do.”

“You’re out of your fucking mind.”

With that, Chuck left, leaving a large, bassist-sized hole in the band. It came as a harsh, cutting surprise, but even so, you called after him, “Good luck.”

Your words, though light, did nothing to dispel the tension that had fallen over the group. Eddie seemed to be feeling it most of all, as shown by how he pulled the cigarette from his mouth, turning it over and over in his hands. “We gotta cancel the gig.”

“No, man,” Billy shook his head, refusing to be put out by this one setback. He would not be stymied, not when the band had just gotten started on its rise to greatness. “We’re not canceling.”

“Yeah? What’re we gonna do? We don’t have a bassist, Billy—“

“We’re not canceling,” he repeated, remaining firm, unyielding. Emerald eyes slowly strayed to Eddie, clearing with comprehension, then, “Eddie, you switch over to bass.”

“No.”

You could not help but roll your eyes at the suggestion, because even though Eddie was a team player, there was no way he would switch over without kicking up a storm. He would no doubt complain, spending precious time complaining rather than practicing. That was why you straightened your spine, volunteering, “I’ll do it.”

“Thanks, Y/N. We owe you one.” A pleased grin slid onto Billy’s face, replacing the discontent that had been there moments before. He placed a hand on your shoulder, pressing his gratefulness into your skin in a manner that could have been taken as friendly . . . if only his hand had not lingered a moment longer than it should have.

ੈ✩‧₊˚

GRAHAM DUNNE (lead guitar, the Six): (Smiles) Y/N ended up becoming a better bassist than Chuck, anyway.

─── ��･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ───

ROD REYES (tour manager): Oh, yeah. I remember the night the Dunne Brothers opened for the Winters, specifically Billy Dunne and Y/N L/N. One look, and I could tell they were rock stars. He was cocksure, knew who to play in the crowd. They had this air about them, the kind that entranced the crowd, really brought out their emotions.

There’s just a quality that some people have. If you took nine guys, plus Mick Jagger, and you put them in a lineup, someone who had never heard of the Rolling Stones before could still point to Jagger and say, “That’s the rock star.” Billy and Y/N had that. And the bad had good sound.

ੈ✩‧₊˚

“Obviously, you got to write your own material,” the famed manager, Rod Reyes, declared, the distinct smells of smoke and sex emanating from him, filling the air. The smell was so strong and potent that it filled your nostrils from your spot beside Graham, burning your throat, but you were happy, too optimistic to mind the burn.

“Well, I-I mean, I do. We do,” Billy replied, his emerald eyes flitting briefly from Rod’s to yours, because the two of you had written the band’s songs together. A multitude of hours had trickled by in which you two had tried to piece together worthwhile ballads, throwing paint at a theoretical wall and seeing what stuck. The first drafts of the songs had been horrid, lacking any harmony or smoothness, but with much shaping, they had been turned into songs that could go a long way. Key word: could. “Most of it’s not good enough yet.”

“What are you writing about?”

“I have this one song called ‘Nevermore’ about the Catonsville Nine.”

“No. Oh! Are you Bob Dylan? Are you Buffy Sainte-Marie? Enough with the political shit. It’s a new decade. No one needs reminding that the world is a mess. People want to feel good again. They want to feel hope. You can write a love song, can’t you?” Rod demanded, a sour look crossing his face at the thought of ‘Nevermore.’ The song had not been bad, sounding pleasant to the ear, but he did not need to hear it to know that it would not go over well with the masses. He turned to Graham, then, “You need to cool it with the solos, brother. Nobody cares about your technical guitar skills. They want to sing. They want to dance. Look, the last thing I’ll say, and this is key, you need to get the fuck out of Pittsburgh. You want to be signed to a label, you want to work with Jimmy Miller, Tom Dowd, Teddy Price—“

The mention of Teddy Price caused a great, perceptible shift in the air. You immediately sat upright, a curious glint working its way into your eyes. “Wait, you know Teddy Price?”

“Yeah, I know everybody, and they’re all in L.A. now. Not London, not New York. California, my friends. That is the place you got to be.”

His words resonated deeply with you three, specifically the brothers, which was why the prospect of going to L.A. was promptly proposed to the rest of the band. As expected, they agreed, and the six of you and Camila set off, riding off in Warren’s van, Lady Peaches, toward your futures.

ੈ✩‧₊˚

Y/N L/N (singer, The Six): I knew the chances of making it big were slim, but I also knew that if I didn’t at least try, I would never forgive myself. The boys wouldn’t either. So I packed up my things and bid Dad farewell. He was sad to see me go, but just as happy that I was going after my dreams.

He didn’t tell me he was sick . . . Probably because he knew I’d have stayed behind to take care of him.

─── ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ───

The City of Angels welcomed you and the Dunne Brothers with open arms, taking you in as one of its own. You got into contact with Rod, hoping that he would set you up with the big guys, specifically Teddy Price, but all he had to offer was a gig at a dank, seedy bar named Filthy McNastys. Its attendants were sketchy, having all sorts of sins to their name, but given that the bar was on the Strip, the band gladly pushed through, giving their all to each and every performance.

ੈ✩‧₊˚

Y/N: The months we spent at McNastys were slow. At first, barely anyone came to see us, but the more shows we played, the more attention we got. People started coming in just to see us, which was fantastic, but there was a problem: we were barely getting paid.

I ended up getting a job as a waiter at this cute little coffee house to help make ends meet, but no matter what we did, it just didn’t seem like it’d be enough.

ੈ✩‧₊˚

“What happened with that producer you went up to?” Eddie asked as you slid into the booth aside him, donning your work uniform. Working at a coffee house was not exactly what you had envisioned yourself doing when you had set off for L.A., but hey, sacrifices had to be made if the group was to stay. “The one with the parrot?”

“Parrot guy passed on us,” Camila answered, having fashioned herself the band’s manager. You thought she was doing a great job, given that she had never done such a thing before. Others did not think as such, though, as shown by Eddie’s next comment.

“Wow. That is bleak.”

“Might want to save half that toast for tomorrow, Eddie,” she retorted, eyeing his toast with an expression of deadly seriousness. Atop the table lay a mound of cash, which was all of the money that the band had amassed since the start of the month. “This is barely enough to cover the rent.”

“Fuck,” Eddie cursed, breathing out a deep sigh. Half his toast was promptly placed in his shirt pocket, being tucked away to be eaten tomorrow.

“Fuck,” you echoed, resting your head atop his shoulder, the move a sign of just how deeply tiredness had settled upon your bones, weighing you down. “I’ll be working another double this weekend, I s’pose.”

Eddie opened his arms in response, letting you lean more closely against him. You did so happily, soaking in his warmth. The action, though gentle, was purely friendly, yet still, unbeknownst to you, two sets of eyes looked upon said action disapprovingly. Both Billy and Graham, despite not wanting to admit it, were jealous, because there you were, snuggling up against another man.

Their jealousy went unnoticed, but your exhaustion did not, as shown by the concern that made its way across Warren’s face. “Fuck it. Maybe old Chuckie was right, huh? Maybe this was all just a big mistake and we should have just stayed at home with our parents, saved money on rent, and become dentists.”

“I mean, I’ve sent out hundreds of photographs. Not a single fucking paper has responded. Should I just quit? No one said it was gonna be easy.”

Camila’s disheartened words drew your attention, causing your head to snap up toward hers. “No, don’t quit. All it takes is one person to make a difference,” you replied, flashing her a weak but warm smile, because even though you had distanced yourself from Billy, you had welcomed her into the group as kindly as you had the new keyboardist, Karen Sirko.

“Also, while we’re talking about stuff, how come I’m the only one without a bed in the house?” Warren deadpanned, heavily yearning for a good night’s sleep in a proper bed. He had been squatting on the couch, after all, and it could be felt in the aches of his back. No twenty year old should feel like they had the back of an old, decrepit man . . .

“Well, you could’ve taken Karen’s room,” Billy pointed out, finally breaking out of his jealous haze.

“No, I couldn’t have. That room is haunted.”

“It’s not haunted.”

“Everybody knows it’s haunted.”

“Oh, come on, Rojas. You don’t want to get all up close and personal with a ghost?” you teased, reaching across Eddie to jostle his arm. Of course, Warren jostled you back, the two of you nearly displacing Eddie’s toast, which he did not like. Not at all.

“Hey, stop! You almost made me drop my pocket toast—“

Sensing that the three of you were on the brink of causing chaos, Karen broke her silence, asking a question that had been bothering her for a long time, “Why are we still called The Dunne Brothers? I mean, four of us aren’t Dunnes, and the last time I checked, I’m nobody’s brother.”

“So you want to change our name?” Billy asked, not even wanting to consider the idea. Truth be told, you had been opposed to the name at the nascence of the band, but given that two of the three original members were Dunnes, your opinion had been the minority.

“I personally think that’s a great idea,” Eddie admitted, earning a sharp, accusatory look from Billy. Said look was sharp enough to cut skin, but he did not wilt, instead adding, “I’m just saying what everybody’s thinking.”

“Well, the name is the name, so . . . That’s how people know us.”

“Yeah, but it’s not exactly doing much for us, though.”

“How about Immaculate Reception?” Warren interjected, causing your nose to crinkle disapprovingly.

“God, no. That’s horrid.”

“We’re not changing the name,” Billy insisted, looking to his brother for help. Graham offered none, though, for he was open to changing the name.

“I mean, listen, if we’re throwing stuff out there, Hercules is still on the table.”

“No! No way!”

“Deliverance, Espionage, Poison.”

“How about Aurora—“

“The six of us will never agree on a name,” Billy cut you off, only liking a single one of the names that had been thrown out. “All right? So let’s just . . .”

His words caused a lightbulb to go off in Karen’s head, as shown by how brightly she grinned, realization donning on her features. “What about The Six?”

“I like The Six.”

“Sure as hell better than Hercules.”

“Y/N?” Graham looked at you, an expectant, questioning look flitting across his face. He had been looking at you more and more as of late with that look, one you could not quite make sense of. “What do you think?”

You opened your mouth to answer, to offer your view of the name, only for the words to die on your tongue when your boss, Dave, yelled out, “Y/N, break’s over. Back on the floor!”

ੈ✩‧₊˚

Y/N: I put in crazy hours at the coffee house, working to the point of exhaustion, but one of my coworkers there, this bright, fiery girl named Daisy Jones, turned what was one of the darkest times of my life into one of the brightest. One day, after working a double together, she pulled me along to watch her and her friend, Simone, perform at the Troubadour.

I thought that was all it was, that I was just going to support them, but then, after Daisy performed, she got this crazy glint in her eye. The kind where you know she’s up to something. She set down her guitar and said, “Now, I’d like to bring a friend of mine up on stage. Come on up and wow us, Y/N L/N.”

I was shocked, to say the least, but Daisy Jones isn’t the type of person you deny, especially in a room with that many people. So I got up on that stage, took Daisy’s guitar, and sang a piece I had been writing on my own called “Equilibrium.” It was about trying to find a balance between who I was with Billy versus without him.

Looking back, it was sad just how deeply intertwined I was with him, even when there was more space between us than ever. At the time, though, I didn’t realize the song was about him.

Hell, I didn’t even realize Teddy Price was in the audience that night. In my defense, though, my obliviousness might’ve been from all the mescaline I was taking at the time . . .

ੈ✩‧₊˚

After your performance, you returned the guitar to Daisy and hopped off the stage, your cheeks bathed in perspiration from exertion. As soon as your feet made contact with the earth, you were off, making a beeline for the star of the night, Simone.

A golden grin immediately slid onto your mouth, showing how happy you were for her in that moment. “Simone, you did great out there.”

“Hey,” she returned the smile, inclining her head to the man she had been chatting with before you had approached. “Y/N L/N, Teddy Price. You two should talk.”

Oh, my God, you thought when his name trickled your ears. It was all you could think, because there was one of the legends of the music industry, handing you his card. Feeling as though you were floating outside of your body, you reached out to take the card into your hands, hoping that he did not notice the slight tremble of your fingers.

“You interested, kid? We could work on some music together.”

“Oh, um, I appreciate it, but I’m not a solo act,” you informed, because at the time, you had only ever performed by yourself on a handful of occasions. They had been fine, perhaps even good, but not as great as when you performed with the band. “I’m in a band, The Six. Any chance you’d be interested in giving us a chance? Just let us play one song for you, that’s all I ask.”

He looked upon you, studying you keenly. A beat passed, then he nodded, agreeing to give The Six a chance. “Okay, kid. I’ll give you a chance. Are you ready?”

“Undoubtedly, yes.”

ੈ✩‧₊˚

BILLY: People think we played one song for Teddy Price and he gave us a record deal. Not true. After that first meeting, he put us through the wringer for months, but it was worth it.

Everything had gone so slowly, and then suddenly it was all happening so fast. We recorded our album in six days, had two weeks off, then it was time to hit the road.

─── ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ───

BILLY: The night before we were set to leave, Camila told me she was seven weeks pregnant, and I . . . I decided we needed to get married right away. We had been planning to have a wedding sometime after the tour but I decided we needed to do it right then. I don’t know why that mattered to me, but the moment I knew she was pregnant I felt like we had to make sure we were a proper family.

CAMILA DUNNE (wife of Billy Dunne): Karen knew an ordained minister. She got his number from a friend of hers and we called him late that night. He came right over.

EDDIE ROUNDTREE (rhythm guitarist, The Six): It was four in the morning.

CAMILA: Karen decorated the porch out back, and Y/N picked some roses from the bushes surrounding the house. They made me this beautiful flower crown and did my hair; it made me feel like a proper bride.

─── ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ───

INTERVIEWER: What do you remember about the tour?

Y/N: More than I’d like to.

GRAHAM: . . .

WARREN ROJAS (drummer, The Six): . . .

KAREN SIRKO (keyboardist, The Six): . . .

BILLY: I, uh . . . It was a long time ago, I don’t remember much.

CAMILA: I remember everything.

GRAHAM: Pretty quickly, we found a rhythm: get to town, sound check, play, party, get on the bus. And the better we started playing, the more we partied. Hotels, girls, drugs. Over and over. Hotels, drugs, girls. For all of us, but especially Billy.

WARREN: Let me sum it up for you: I was getting laid, Graham was getting high, Eddie was getting drunk, Karen and Y/N were getting fed up, and Billy was all four, at once.

Y/N: Billy changed on that first tour. Cracked under the pressure, I think. He turned into a person I didn’t recognize and didn’t like.

And even though I didn’t like him, I still loved him.

ੈ✩‧₊˚

After the wedding, something within Billy had changed, had shifted. He became hard, closed off. You and Graham, two of the people closest to him, were kept at arm’s length, having no choice but to helplessly watch on as he ruined all that was good in his life. He got drunk, high, and angry, and when his anger mounted to an exceedingly high level, he expelled it by sleeping with a nameless woman, one he could use, then discard when he felt better.

Him spiraling hurt you more than you cared to admit, but you were not his family. Not his spouse nor his blood, so it was not your place to set him straight . . . or you thought as such until he tried to rope you into his debauchery.

ੈ✩‧₊˚

Y/N: After the Ottawa show, I went back to my hotel room and started getting ready to go out for the night. I remember, I was just about to get started on my hair when there came a knock at the door. I opened it, expecting to see Graham, but it was Billy. He had been drinking tequila. I could smell it on his breath, and the look in his eye . . . I had never seen him that down, and it made me sad.

I didn’t know what to say, but I let him in. He went and sat down on the bed, and knowing I’d need a drink to get through whatever was to come, I poured myself a glass of whiskey. It was awful, but did its job. I downed the whole thing, then poured two more. One for me, and one for Billy.

BILLY: I honestly don’t know what got into me that night. I just needed to see Y/N, to hold them.

Y/N: He asked me to hold him, so I did. We sat there for a while, not talking, moving, or doing anything. Just holding each other . . . until he tried to kiss me. That pissed me off, because he knew how I felt about him. He had known when he married Camila, yet still, he had married her. Had chosen her.

I jumped up and yelled, “What the fuck do you think you’re doing, Billy? I mean, honestly, is this the kind of person you want to be?”

And he said, “The booze, the drugs, the girls . . . I’ve been doing them all to try to get you out of my system—“

I slapped him. Hard.

BILLY: Y/N slapped me, and I just kind of sat there, reeling. They looked like they wanted to apologize, but before they could, Graham walked in. You could just tell by the look on his face that he had overheard the whole thing.

GRAHAM: I only heard a tiny bit, but it wasn’t hard to piece together what was happening. It also wasn’t hard to piece together that Y/N wasn’t willing to entertain Billy’s advances, so I pushed him out of the room and into the parking lot. Outside, he paced back and forth and muttered to himself, looking a little crazy. He said, “I fucked it all up. I fucked it all up.”

Deep down, I’d known it was coming, because he loved Y/N the same way I did. So all I could say was, “Just don’t do it again, man. Just don’t do it again.”

ROD: Billy started going at it double time after Ottawa. The coke and girls and booze and all that.

GRAHAM: Camila decided to surprise Billy a few weeks after that. She drove up, five months pregnant, and found him in a . . . compromising position.

EDDIE: She walked in on him getting, well . . . I don’t know how else to say it . . . oral sex, I guess I should say. From a groupie.

Y/N: Camila blew up on Billy. Like, slapped right across the face. Hit him with her bag, too, if memory serves. She asked me to watch him, to make sure he didn’t sink deeper into himself.

And she said, “When he wakes up, give him this letter.” The letter had an ultimatum; he had to get clean before the baby came.

KAREN: He didn’t stop messing around with all of it.

EDDIE: We were all sort of counting down the days. You know, sixty days until Billy has to get clean. Then it was forty days. Then, when it got down to ten days, he was forgetting the words onstage, and I thought he was never gonna clean up.

Y/N: On November 28th, we were in Hartford for a show when one of the stage managers called me offstage. Said there was a call for me. I picked it up, and it was Teddy. “You gotta get Billy home,” he said, because Camila had gone into labor.

BILLY: Y/N took me by the arm and held onto me until we got onto the plane. Then, we landed and they dragged me into this beat-up rental car and drove me to the hospital.

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The rickety old rental car sped into the hospital parking lot, going way faster than the legal speed in an effort to get Billy to his girls as fast as possible. When the car rolled to a stop, though, he did not immediately jump to get out. Confusion overtook your features, prompting you to say, “Well? Go see your girls.”

“I can’t,” he whispered, his voice sad, broken down. Never before had you seen him so shattered.

“You can.”

“I can’t.”

“Billy.”

“Y/N. I can’t have her meet me like this.”

An emotion akin to the anger you had felt back in Ottawa arose beneath your skin, causing you to tighten your hold on the steering wheel, your knuckles flashing white with force. “Okay, then,” you said, eerily calm. “I’m going to be there for Camila and to meet that baby girl, with or without you, Billy. But if I go by myself, you’re going to get help when I come back out. Real help.”

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Y/N: That night, sitting by Camila’s bedside was when I let go of the possibility of Billy. He had a wife and a baby, and if he was going to mess that up, I wasn’t going to play a part in it.