the wild one.

sixxteen

While Motley had unfortunately lost their door, that didn't stop parties from taking place. Instead, everyone had to go through the window while they nailed the door shut. With that policy, they were practically telling their neighbors to get fucked and to get used to it. Harley often avoided confrontation from neighbors whenever she was in the hallways.

They spent more time in the studio, the completion of the album just around the corner. They still had no record deal, which resulted in creating their own - titling it as Leathür, with the same two signature dots above the u. Harley knew Nikki was writing newer material for what they could use in their second album - whenever they were going to work on that.

Speaking of Nikki, it was once again a weird situation with him. Harley suspected they would never not have a weird situation going on between them. Now, though, instead of things going the opposite direction before, it went crashing in flames. It seemed that whenever they were alone - which suspiciously was often - they couldn't keep their hands off each other, resulting in quite often make-outs and more.

Vince remained to be the only one in the band who knew and Harley planned on keeping it that way - she practically begged him not to spill every time she told him something new. She thought it was weird, the incidents that bring friends together. She remembered originally not being able to stand Vince, and now the two were always whispering about something to each other.

Harley was still worried about jeopardizing the band wherever the relationship was going. She didn't want Motley Crue to go down in flames just because she and Nikki fucked up.

It was one of the rare moments of silence in the Crue apartment, as Harley laid on her back with her eyes closed on the bed. She listened to Nikki's pen scratch against the paper with the occasional silently plucked bass string.

Harley opens an eye and watches him. Nikki writes something down again and bites the edge of his pen before glancing at Harley, only to notice her watching him. He sets his pen in the notebook and closes it.

"What was your family like?" Nikki asks, remembering how she had mentioned them once before, but not a deep dive into their life.

"I've said it before," Harley responds.

"Only a bit."

She hesitates for a moment. "I dunno, just the typical, overly catholic family? Y'know about my mom, a bit. She was batshit crazy about everything, making us pray before every event, whatever big or small it was. She was one of those crazy anti-anyone people, which fucking sucked. I couldn't have friends who weren't white or straight. It was pretty rough on my brother. Dad just turned a blind eye to it all. He never interrupted or told her off for things, she'd probably scream bloody murder and try to frame him if he did. My mom also enforced a god-awful dress code, like Sunday clothes every day. I always brought a change to school and then changed out before I left."

"That's awful. What was with your brother?" Nikki questions, that part making him want to know more - it was strange she left that unopen.

"It's an iffy subject," Harley explains, sitting up slightly. "Alright then, what about you?"

"Me?"

"Yeah. What about your family?"

"Well, first, I was born, as it usually goes. That's about as long as my dad stuck around for - just long enough to name me after himself - which made me Frank Feranna. Once the dickhead was out of the picture, it was my mom and I left. My mom wasn't much better - very self-centered. She always had a different boyfriend, every week it was someone new. They were all pieces of shit too. Sometimes my mom couldn't handle me and would send me off to live with my grandparents for a few months, then they couldn't handle me, and I was back to my mom. It went on like that for a while. Eventually, I had enough, which then I stuck a blade in my arm and acted like my mother attacked me. After, I just pretty much lived out the rest of my life homeless in LA, until I guess I met you all." Nikki explains.