𝙵𝙾𝚁𝙶𝙴𝚃 𝙷𝙴𝚁࿐ ྂ ᴊᴇꜰꜰ ʙᴜᴄᴋʟᴇʏ

ᴛᴡᴇɴᴛʏ-ᴛᴡᴏ

POLLY CLASPED HER HANDS TOGETHER NERVOUSLY,

picking at callouses on her finger tips and messing with her rings.

She had decided that two weeks of no job was enough for her, so now she sat waiting for an interview. With restaurant jobs, you'd be almost hired instantly- no interview required.

But this, as she called it was a 'real' job, that required an interview. At Columbia records.

Even though it was just taking pictures for bands, it was more 'real' than waitressing.

Her name was called and she walked down the hall, sitting opposite a middle-aged man, who seemed nice enough but annoyed to have gotten stuck with conducting interviews.

It only lasted ten minutes, so Polly found herself back on the street, staring up at the almost skyscraper.

Even though Polly had taken a taxi there, she decided to walk the distance back to her apartment instead. It was a beautiful day, the sky blue and the sun reflecting on the glass of windshields and buildings. 

Her feet hurt as she walked, having worn her nice shoes rather than old docs. She ignored the feeling as the weather grew hotter, wishing East 12th would come into view sooner, and her AC wouldn't be broken.

The AC was broken.

She stripped from her dress shirt and work pants, replacing them with one of Jeff's band shirts he'd left in her bed.

As she stared up at the ceiling from her spot in bed she felt a giddy feeling developing. She was gonna have something that was all hers, something of value.

Jeff had that with playing music, and she had watched that develop greatly- always wishing something like that for herself.

Maybe she finally had what she was looking for.

Not that she actually had the job yet, and even if she did it wasn't that big of a deal. It was just the thought of it.

The feeling accompanying her newfound optimism was inspiration, so she made her way down the spiral staircase and sat down at her piano.

Polly's fingers were slightly sticky with sweat, and lesser-used keys covered in a thin layer of dust.

She allowed herself to be lost in the music, truly in her own world of arpeggios and new progressions. There were so many different sounds and feels, songs depicting loss, love, sickness, and opportunity.

Each arrangement was wildly different from the next, but terribly gorgeous all the same.

Jeff had come in while she played, the sound of the piano covering the squeak of the door, he smiled to himself as he rested on the sofa, Polly unaware of his presence still.

She finished her songs, a small sigh escaping her lips when she stood.

"You're so beautiful," Jeff said, his words only a fraction of what he truly felt.

Polly turned quickly, "you scared me so bad."

"I'm sorry," he apologized, not sorry at all to have been able to hear her play uninterrupted. His voice was soft as he admired her carefully, eyes trailing down her face to his shirt, her ring-clad fingers, and bare legs. Every inch perfect in his eyes. He raised his hand to her face, tucking a strand of hair that fell in her eyes away. "I love your eyes."

"I love yours." Polly replied, meeting his stare.

Jeff laughed slightly. "They're just brown."

They weren't just brown to Polly. They were more than the color- deeply expressive and piercing. A window to his beautiful, tortured soul.

"I don't think so."

"We can disagree." Jeff had never looked at his face and seen distinctive beauty, although his idea of beauty was different from what was deemed normal.

Beauty, in his opinion, was more often found in a persons smile, in their eyes. In their ability to freely be true to themselves.

Polly would be beautiful in every standard, but especially in his. The way she threw her head back when she laughed, held his hand just because.

A million or more little things represented her beauty. If he could, he would spend the rest of time listing every little detail to her.

༻✦༺

More demos.

Why was he recording more demos if he had no desire to record an album?

Was Jeff lying to himself? Or was it really just because the opportunity presented itself?

He sat in the studio in Soho, across from Gary Lucas, a man he'd met at Saint Ann's.

He wasn't sure if he was officially apart of Gary's project, Gods and Monsters, yet he still sat there reading over the lyrics for Grace and Mojo Pin.

It was just guitar and vocals, although Gary promised the next session to be with the rest of Gods and Monsters.

Jeff's lyrics were becoming actual songs, and fast. His art transforming into something real.

It was both scary and beautiful. The situation seemed to be more real than past times Jeff had been in similar situations, sitting in a studio, ready to record.

It made him think about what he wanted with music, what he was willing to give up to get.

For now, he would just be with the music. Worry free. Record the songs and return home, not talk about his musical future, a band, or a possible album.

But as he sang, feeling would overcome Jeff. For the seconds in which he closed his eyes and focused all thoughts on the music surrounding him he felt pure weightlessness. On a different plane than his normal self, like some sort of drug.

The feeling was even greater up on a stage, whether he was in someone's basement back in high school, to even Saint Ann's Church playing his fathers music.

It didn't matter where he was, as long as the music was there.

༻✦༺

a/n

still filler chapter 😭
& sorry for the lag school been super busy