Between Strings and Sparks

Chapter 4 - "When the Noise Gets Too Loud"

The wind on the terrace was still rocking his hair when Jack slid his thumb down his cheek - a gesture so soft that it seemed impossible coming from him.

The world had become small there, just the two of you, the open sky, the smell of hot night and the distant sound of the festival.

But the moment was broken by a dry knock on the metal door.

- Jack? - someone's voice sounded, angry. - You can't just disappear, man. The press is waiting.

Jack closed his eyes, exasperated.

- Damn...

You gave a small smile.

- Go there. Ill wait.

But Jack held his wrist, firmly.

- I don't want to leave you alone. Not now.

The door opened abruptly. It was Evan, the band's manager, closed expression, looking evaluating you and Jack as if he had found a new problem to solve.

- The press has been inside for twenty minutes waiting for you - Evan said, dry. - And you are... here?

Jack took a deep breath, but didn't let go of his hand.

- I needed a minute - he replied. - A minute with her.

Evan sighed, running his hand over his face.

- Her? Jack, you know you can't—

- I don't want to hear - Jack cut, his voice low and firm.

The manager widened his eyes, surprised. Jack almost never spoke like that.

- All right. - Evan raised his hands. - But whatever this is, needs to end now.

He looked at you, too professional, too cold.

- Don't take it the wrong way... But this kind of involvement causes a problem. For him. For the band. For the tour. It's not personal.

Jack seemed to be punched.

- Are you serious? - he took a step forward. - She's not "a problem".

- Jack... - Evan tried to soften his voice. - You know how this works. A new face glued to you after the show becomes a headline in three minutes. You don't need that. Not now.

Those words hit you more than you would like to admit.

"A problem."

"A headline".

"A new face".

A bitter feeling rose in the chest - insecurity, doubt, fear of not belonging to that huge world where Jack existed like a fire and you were just... you.

Jack noticed at the time.

He turned to you with the most worried expression he had ever used.

- Hey, don't listen to him. It's not like that. You're not—

But you were already taking a step back.

- It's okay - you said, with a smile that hurt a little. - He's just doing his job.

Jack frowned, his voice almost breaking.

- Don't do that. Don't get away from me.

Evan snorted.

- Jack. Five minutes. After that, I'll come back and you go with me. No discussion.

He left, closing the door tightly.

The silence that remained was heavy.

Too heavy.

Jack ran his hand through his hair, frustrated, distressed.

- I hate it. I hate it when they talk to you like that. I hate that it seems like... that you have no place here.

You took a deep breath.

- It's because I don't have it, Jack.

The pain in his face was immediate.

- Don't say that. Don't say that, please. I like you in a way I shouldn't even. I don't let anyone in like that. And I don't want you to disappear because of all this shit.

You looked away, trying not to disassemble.

- What if I end up getting in the way? And if it becomes gossip? What if you regret it? We just met...

Jack approached, holding his face with both hands - so delicate, so desperate.

- I won't regret it. From you, never.

You closed your eyes, feeling his forehead touch yours.

For a moment, that seemed enough.

But then the door slammed again - harder.

- Jack. Now. - Evan's voice came loaded with warning.

Jack retreated, taking a deep breath, as if he was being pulled into two worlds at the same time.

- I need to go - he admitted, his voice broken. - But I'll be back.

He held her hand, bringing it to his lips.

- Do you stay? Please... stay. Don't go away.

You wanted to say yes.

You wanted to promise that you would be there when he came back.

But before you could answer...

His cell phone vibrated in his pocket.

A notification. A photo. From Twitter. You. With Jack. At the dressing room door. Hand in hand.

Caption:

"Barakat's new girl?"

And thousands of comments appearing, rolling so fast that it hurt just to look at them.

His breathing failed.

Jack saw the screen.

And the horror on his face said it all.