Jolene (Band on the Run Fanfic)

Jolene

Chooseitwisely's Band on the Run - Fanfic

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Within a blink of an eye, their love story flashed in front of me.

His darkness contrasted brilliantly with her sunlight as they spent the night in the dingy bar musing over poetry and its influence on music. Before he could notice enough to throw up a wall, she had casually inched in through his defenses, drawing out his rare-dimpled grin and golden-glint in his otherwise dark, hazel eyes. As the night passed, which in his opinion was far too quickly, he did begin to notice the breaks in his armor, but at that point, he didn't care enough to repair it because he liked the sun rays peeking in, warming him somewhere deep inside.

That would go down in their memory books as their first meeting.

Many more meetings would come soon after. Not of their volition but rather that of their tall, mutual drummer friend who'd decided that they were hand-picked and vetted for each other, compliments to him. Their unexpected encounters would by no means be chances of fate, and the two of them knew it undoubtedly, but it didn't mean they didn't revel in these meetings. Once their companions left them to their abandon, they led long, thoughtful discussions without any end in sight, judging by the countless times the sun would set and leave the moon hanging high above them as they talked through many nights.

Any onlooker would just see them as a pair on an old couch in a warehouse filled with too many musical instruments, a dark, messy-haired head pressed close to a smooth, golden one as they both would stay consumed with their conversation, blue and gold eyes locked, voices hushed, intimate, and only for each others' ears.

That's how their relationship would continue. Eventually, the accidental meet-ups were on purpose as they would each, not so subtly, beseech their drummer friend to make plans for them before they'd bypass the middleman he'd become and start contacting each other directly. Texts, calls, and hangouts lasted into the early mornings as she was just as much of an insomniac as he.

Their conversations, begun as just musings, would start to dip into their histories, but they'd go slow and find the balance to not scare each other away. Their memories would be stories that they'd share with fond smiles, emphatic laughter, and pained grimaces, bonding the two and transcending their original relationship, allowing them to understand each other on a different wavelength that no passerby or even friend could hope to fathom.

Then, he'd find a moment, like when they're lounging lazily on a worn leather couch in her rarely-visited apartment during one of their days off with no publicity stunts for him and no shoots for her. She'd be reading to him a particularly insightful passage from Rimbaud, the romantic language flowing effortlessly from her rosebud mouth. The same mouth he'd unexpectedly press his own lips against, interrupting her careful recitation. She'd gasp in a breath of shock from underneath him before their breaths became one and the same. Her clear blue eyes would flutter shut, and she'd thread her delicate ivory hand through his dark, messy locks.

They'd be in the eye of the public, no doubt. They'd be known as a power couple, overflowing with talent and charisma, and the world would fawn over the sudden link between the beautiful, popular actress and the dark, troubled guitarist. However, their pasts, while already known to each other, would come back haunting, stories mangled by the twisted words of outsiders.

Fights and outbreaks and rifts would form. He'd storm out a couple of times, leaving her with tears seeping from her crystal eyes as she'd watch the back of his leather jacket vanish with the slam of a door. He'd curse himself and beg for her to unlock the door to the bedroom in which she'd locked herself after a particularly nasty comment from his lips.