His only reason (Emblem 3 fanfic)

His only reason (Emblem 3 fanfic - Chapter 15)

The day dragged on after breakfast. It took us a good half hour to walk 5 blocks back to the hotel, despite it being only a 10 minute walk originally. The temperature dropped-- it was nearly thirty degrees as we approached noontime.

“Don’t you ever get sick of it?” I asked, stepping aside a few impatient fangirls, squealing and shoving their cameras in front of the boys’ faces. “Tired of what?”

I sighed, as a few more onlookers stopped in their tracks to take a quick picture of the boys. “This. The attention, the constant camera flashing, the spot light.” Drew let out a small laugh, trying to talk between his teeth while smiling for a picture. “Never. Unless you could picture me in college, this is definitely where I belong. I dropped out of high school anyways- definitely fate.”

He continued on, turning his head for another snapshot. “These people are the reason we’re here right now.” Could I see them as average guys in my high school? Unlikely. Drew would be the popular senior, and with even a short wink any girl in the school would fall in love with his macho personality and overbearing arm muscles. His carless attitude would rack in all of the lady attention.

Wesley on the other hand, would be the junior, quarterback of the school football team. After scoring the winning touch down, he’d run up to the hot blonde captain cheerleader and pull her in for a congratulatory kiss, and definitely have a drink or two with her at the after party. After homecoming, of course after a win, he’d take her on an expensive dinner date, insisting she order the finest lobster bisque you could find on the island. After, he’d end the night with a long make out session in his perfectly waxed camaro.

My eyes flickered towards Keaton, who was signing a cracked phone case, a generous grin plastered cheek to cheek. He’d be the freshman, not confused but content. His brother would get recognized whenever they went to the local diner, or out to the mall, and he’d quietly wait for the attention to die down before dragging his brother to the next PacSun in sight. He’d sit at the top of the bleachers for the football games accompanied by his mother, quiet, while she screamed for her ‘star’. He’d bring a pen everywhere with him, scribbling down notes and suggestive song lyrics, ready to be played on the acoustic guitar the minute he got home. At lunch he’d sit with a good friend or two of his, laughing and discussing last night’s Myth Busters episode. He caught my eye and smiled toothily, and I returned the gesture, reaching into my pocket.

I felt for my phone, which was wrapped in a chipped plain black case and pulled it out of my pocket, dusting the lint off of the cover. It’d been a day since I last checked it, and not expecting any messages I unlocked the lock screen, to be greeted with 8 missed calls, 7 of which were from home. This included 14 text messages from Demetri demanding a response on why I hadn’t gotten in contact with him after the concert or this morning. I clicked my finger over my mother’s name, and immediately dialed her number, nervously biting my lip. “Nadine?”

Her voice was relieving, but it trembled with fear. “Yeah, Mama, it’s me.” She exhaled deeply, and I could tell she was about to raise her tone. “Who do you think you are not returning my calls? Are you insane? Are you alright? Where are you?” Her questions nearly flooded me. “Are you with Demetri? He said he hasn’t seen you in 2 days, why haven’t you been answering your calls?”

“I’m with, believe it or not, the band who’s concert I attended.” I could almost feel the overwhelmed vibe she gave off. “You could’ve gotten raped! Ay Dios Mio. You know I can’t leave your sister and grandmother alone to come find you. You better take the 5 pm train back to Woodside, and be at the table for dinner tonight. Call me when you arrive, I’ll send Patrick out looking for you if you don’t call me by 6.”

Keaton cocked his head, asking me what was wrong, but I shook my head. “Okay Mama. Te amo mucho, hasta lluego.” She hung up without a response.

“I have to go,” I exclaimed, glancing up at the clock hanging in the center of Times Square. 9 am. “When?” 

“Five tonight, Penn Station. My mother’s worried, plus I have school tomorrow morning. My mom’s angry because one, I’m not with Demetri. And two, she has no idea who any of you are. She doesn’t know if you’re some sort of criminal and such.” After uncomfortably lowering his stare, Keaton began to walk towards the end of the block, oblivious of the dozens of girls grabbing at his arms. Wesley and Drew continued taking photographs, unaware of their fleeing bandmate. Keaton looked back over his shoulder, extending out his hand, palm faced up. His grasp felt warm.

We walked for what felt like ages until we reached the hotel again. “Check out’s at three so we still have a few hours,” he smirked, leading me into the hotel lobby. It was nicer than what I thought this morning, a grand chandelier hanging from the ceiling and a gold and maroon theme encrusting every couch and counter. We approached the elevator and stepped in, before I broke the silence. “What would you wanna do?” The ride was extremely rocky after I pressed floor 7. “I just need to hop in the shower real quick, if you don’t mind.” I shook my head, “Just don’t be too long.”

We reached the floor and stepped out, heading down the hallway still hand in hand. Once we reached the room and managed to slide the key in properly, the cold air rushed towards my face. A slight breeze soared in from the kitchen window. Everything looked the same as when we left, uneaten pancakes sitting on the kitchen table and blanket still on the floor from the couch. The shower jets spurt on, so I took a seat back on the all too familiar couch.

There was an empty coffee mug, a few candy wrappers and a stack of papers lying on the table, covering a small book. Out of curiousity, I lifted up the papers and reached for the mangled notebook. There were random scribbles all around the face and tears at the spine. Once I opened it, a few pages fell out, but one in particular hit the ground. 

The writing wasn’t sloppy like the rest of the random lyrics covering the pages, but rather neat and properly written. “Curious”. I rad down, touching my fingers to the smudged ink, until I reached a disclaimer at the bottom  corner. Written and performed by Keaton Stromberg. Played on the acoustic guitar. Rough draft.

I glanced around the room, searching for the guitar, and eventually found it’s head peeking out from underneath the couch I was perched upon. I slowly uncovered it, running my fingers down the smooth wood shaft. The strings were tight, and cold, once my hands strung across them they flowed accordingly. I’ve never really been much of a musician. Back in junior high I participated in the school chorus and band, playing the flute, acoustic guitar and piano. I lost interest eventually, because I rarely stuck to one thing, my mind always wondered about. But the way my hands felt once they got into proper position, and the way his words slipped off of my tongue felt ravishing.

“Imagine. All Lennon had to say, to make us want to pray for peace every single day. Keep your money don’t want anything to do with it.”

“Reach your love, heart of gold, and I’m never losing this.” A voice chimed in on that last vocal, nearly scaring me to the point of dropping the guitar. It was Keaton, standing directly behind me. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to mess with your notebook I was just-” He sat down beside me, gently removing the guitar from my hands and placing it back in it’s hiding place. He leaned in towards my puzzled face, whispering. “It was beautiful.” His green eyes shifted from my widened pupils to my lips, before he suddenly leaned in, pressing softly onto mine.

His lips were slightly chapped, and I’m sure he could feel the bite marks I had impressed on mine previously. He leaned back, setting his head on the arm rest of the couch, pulling my body on top of his, our lips still in tact. His chest was bare and moist, icy against my hand which was pressed onto it gently. His hair was towel dried and damp, dancing in small curls around my other hand while our tongues began to twirl.

He wasn’t aggressive with his actions, but rather cautious and meaningful. His fingertips were hesitant, but slid down my torso, stopping at my waist before tugging at the belt loops on my jeans. His intimacy was interrupted, when the door immediately shot open. “Keaton?”

Author’s Note: hii!! xx i owe you guys a huge explanation. i actually had a few finals back in december before Christmas break, then got totally occupied with studying. i actually have my next week of finals in 2 weeks, so updates will be slow that week. but i hope this makes up for it. i’ll be back to updating, love all the support really the comments motivate me to keep writing!! when should i post the next chapter, and how was this one? thanks xxxx