ROLL WITH IT [g.way x reader]

Chapter 3: Creating A Peace Offering

"No problem," you assured, a little weirded out that he was talking to you so casually — but then again, apparently this guy had known you for years.

As you sat down carefully on the sofa, he ambled his way past a huge cabinet folder, before plopping down heavily in the chair behind his bureau; "So, setlist," he stated, tapping at his computer to turn it on, "we know that we're going to have to put all the singles on there, so 'Understatement', 'Alone And Afraid', 'Head In The Mud' and 'Exit Stage' are must haves. So, we're gonna need an extra seven tracks. We'll have to take some stuff of your old album then, which your older fans will love—"

"Harvey," you said carefully, your voice wobbling, "could you slow down for a second? I'm kinda... having trouble keeping up. I have to perform over seven songs?"

"I know it's a bit more than your calibre, but Projekt Revolution is a demanding event," Harvey replied, in slight sympathy, still tapping away at his computer. "It'll only be an extra four from what you're used to, so we'll have to do a bit of practice, but, y'know, I'm sure you'll be fine."

There was a pause, before Harvey noticed that you didn't respond, and was surprised to find you with your head in your hands.

"Hey, what's wrong?" he asked gently, turning to see you properly.

"Just... hit my head yesterday, and it still hurts," you croaked.

What you really wanted to say was, "I don't belong here, I'm actually from a different year, and you guys have no fucking idea what's coming", but that was out of the question.

"You do look miserable," Harvey remarked bluntly, "even more miserable than usual. Just hold out till we get this done, okay?" his expression was genuine; he did seem like he truly cared for you deeply, even though for you, you had just met him.

"Fine," you sighed, looking at him through tired eyes. "What songs off the old album do you think will be okay to play?"

"I'm thinking the hard rockers that had some minor success back in the day," he answered, "like 'Percolation' would be a good fit. Are you alright with that?"

You nodded blankly, making a mental note to listen to 'your' older album later.

"Okay, that's a win! So, I'm thinking 'Cement' and 'Bug', is that good? Yeah? Alright, then we can add the rest of the album to that, and boom! We have a setlist," he triumphantly finished tapping, before grabbing a piece of paper and a pen, and manically gesturing for you to come over to the table.

You stood up, and shuffled over, before peering down at the sheet — it was a contract, to say you were consenting to your involvement in the project. You gulped, hands shaking as you took the pen; "Do I have to do this?" you asked weakly. "I—I don't know these people, and I don't know if I'll — I'm not a performer."

He stared at you, tilting his head. He stated your name, in a firm tone, "I'm not forcing you to do this," he told you, "but I'm heavily encouraging you to. It would be really good for your career, trust me. And you'd get to meet some amazing people, you've never been able to meet any musicians that big. You'll get to meet fucking MSI — that's huge!"

"You mean the band whose singer is a paedophile?" you spoke without thinking, before your eyes widened in realisation.

The allegations for Jimmy Urine weren't to come out until 2021.

Much to your relief, Harvey shook his head, "No, that's just their persona. They're like that to make fun of those people, they're purposely offensive."

"They still use slurs," you pointed out, with a small scowl.

Harvey shrugged helplessly with a grimace, as if there was nothing he could do about it, when in fact there was probably a lot he could do, before returning to his typing. You felt a pang of irritation; there was really a lack of caring in this time period, it seemed, and it was pissing you off already.