The Punk Composer (prog/punk fanfiction)

Twists

"How did it go with him, Paul? How's he doing right now?" the girl asked, breaking that odd silence that'd fallen among them all of a sudden.
"Why don't you find out yourself?" he scoffed in irony.
"I don't know, Paul, you're his brother, maybe it was just you he wanted to see..." she justified timidly.
He shook his head, seemingly amused and a bit annoyed at the same time.
"You know, El... you're wrong. My brother didn't want to see me, at first, but after I insisted a bit he let me sit down on his bed and chat with him a bit... and mind you, he said that he felt better afterwards! Sometimes, all you need to do is to insist a bit..."
"Don't talk like we didn't care about him, please..." Pete sighed, but Paul pretended not to hear him.
Eleanor looked around and immediately noticed the fact she was the only who wasn't glaring at Paul. It felt like Glen and the Buzzcocks wanted him to go away as soon as possible.

"He doesn't bite, El..." the blondie chuckled, revealing that tooth gap that made his smile so unique.
"Y-Yeah, I'm going right now..." she replied in embarassment as she stood up to head to the stairs.
"Hold on, we're taking the lift" John stated, chasing his girl and inviting his bandmates to follow him.
"Altogether?" Diggle asked.
"No, I meant Eleanor and I are taking the lift" he said from afar, having the girl stop along her way. It sounded much like a command and he also showed off some attitude in his voice, but she didn't want to cause any more frustration in him in that moment; she simply turnt back and without replicating, she finally stepped into the lift.

"I know it was you to call Paul, Eleanor" John accused her with a firm expression on his face, as soon as the two doors of the lift closed in front of their faces.
Now it was just the two of them, alone; tension grew at each inch the elevator made on its way up to the third floor. To Eleanor's perception, it was going terribly slow, or better, time was... for the first time, she felt very uneasy beside John, who was just standing still, keeping that cold and firm attitude on his face. His brown eyes stared straight in front of him, as if the girl wasn't even there.
"What the fuck are you saying?!" she gasped in frustration, releasing all of that tension "Didn't you see how surprised I was to see him!?"
"Yeah, perhaps so... " he sighed "But I didn't say you necessarily called him here, though I'm pretty sure that you warned him about Nick"
"No, not even that! Stop accusing me!"
"I'm just stating the truth, as if I didn't know you!" he replicated, this time rising his voice.
"Wait, what do you mean...?"
"Nevermind" he cut short, looking away.
Eleanor took a deep breath and closed her eyes, trying to have his words just slip on her. She didn't want to feel any more stressed and hurt than she already was... especially not by John's hand, for that'd be double harmful to her.
"I said I didn't do any of that..." she said once again in a whisper.
He looked at her for a few seconds, in total silence, before he shook his head and stepped out of the lift.

He didn't believe her. How could he feel so doubtful about her?
Once again, why was he behaving that way? Was it jealousy? Or simply a childish side of him that she'd never witnessed?
John turnt out to be more touchy and peevish than she ever believed.
This time, there were no insults or mockery dropped at him. Nobody calling him "kid" or "brat" and whatnot. Just Paul's presence and his justified anger for the whole situation. Nick was his brother after all, she felt comprehensive. She couldn't stand the fact her bandmate and the other guys, John most of all, didn't feel empathetic about the situation. That was a low kick for her. A childish lament.
Indeed, she felt hurt and she hoped with all of her heart she'd soon have her old John back... and that it was just a momentaneous phase for him, due to his busy life and responsabilities.
But in the end, she had no clue.

All of them gathered again right in Nick's room, where he was contemplating the cloudy weather of Roslyn from his bed. He looked just like that sky: gray, still... depressed.
That sight made Eleanor sad.
The young boy scanned everyone entering his private space in alarm, as if they all felt like a danger to him. Or better, everyone, but Paul, who sat down next to him in reassurance. Probably, he was the only person Nick'd allow to stay that close, after all he'd known him for a lifetime, whereas the other guys... they were just new and sudden entries inside of his mild life. Perhaps, too sudden for his standards. Strangers.
This time, it'd been Eleanor to cast a pebble into his waters and she felt partly responsable for his breakdown.