February—Cannes
"If you even think about throwing up back here, I'm going to kick you to the curb," Chandler grumbles.
Maeva stops pacing to glare at him, "you will not."
Her knuckles pale around the microphone in her palm. He shrinks under her icy stare.
"You're right, I won't. But please," he says, "don't throw up, break anything, or screw the song, alright?"
She rolls her eyes at him. But all three of those things are becoming distinct possibilities. Each burst of the stage lights twists her anxiety higher up her gut. She can hear Corin's voice as he sings, the energy and emotions rolling off every word. Alex, Cameron, Nathaniel, and Quentin on their instruments barely reach her ears. The anxiety tightens a little more as she picks up on the bite of anger in his tone. She resumes her pacing. Chandler doesn't protest any more. He is all too familiar with backstage idiosyncrasies, and she has more to worry about than merely hitting notes.
"How much longer?" She nearly has to scream over a guitar solo.
"However long it takes them to get through two more songs," Chandler leafs through more paperwork, "if they start making jokes, who the hell knows?"
Maeva turns away from him and paces again, tossing the microphone back and forth between her hands. She distracts herself with warming up her throat—it doesn't work. The stage is quieter as the band talks to the crowd. Corin laughs, and it is nothing like the laughter she has ever heard or drawn. This is a harsh, lashing sound like a cartoon character. Manic laughter. When they start the next song though, every note he sings is electric.
She takes a deep breath and shakes out her hands. One more song. The logical part of her brain watches the flashing lights and preaches the ridiculousness of this. The ocean of emotion she has let loose hears his voice, and pushes her uncertainty back down. Her heeled boots clack as she paces.
When the lights go out to signal a break, Chandler grabs her elbow and herds her out of sight. Maeva leans on the wall and takes deep breaths. Cymbals crash as the roadies swap Quentin's out. He clacks a fresh pair of drumsticks together. Nathaniel asks for a new pick, and someone brings Corin a towel.
"Thank you. Say, can you grab me an energy drink too? Perfect," Corin talks so fast his words nearly run together.
Maeva wonders if the roadies notice, if they know. She cranes her neck and sees the roadie get caught by Chandler. He mumbles something under his breath to her. She nods and walks away, steps much more purposeful than before.
"Maeva?"
Her stomach rings as she whips around and sees Alex grinning in front of her. Her chest hammers.
"For fuck's sake, you scared the shit out of me!"
He just laughs, "sorry. Are you ready for this?"
The glitter in his dove eyes is visible even behind his aviators.
"Yes," She looks at her mic, "hell no. I don't know if I can do this Alex. You see him, what if it doesn't work?"
"It will. You're his Kryptonite, everything will be fine,"
"His what?"
"Oh, never mind."
"Suit yourself," her eyes fall to the high hem of her dress, dark against her legs, "do I look alright? Should I have worn something else?"
"You look metal as fuck, Maeva. Every—"
"Alex, what are you doing back there?" Corin interrupts him.
It sounds like "Alewhatareyoudoingbathere'. Maeva swallows, forcing herself not to look over the speakers at him.
"Taking a piss!" Alex shouts back.
Corin laughs, and it is horrible. Her ears and eyes sting with every high-pitched ha.
"Come on, get your heads out of your asses!" Chandler shouts, beginning to wrangle his rock stars together, "let's go, we have a show to finish!"
"Good luck."
Alex drops a kiss on the cheek she offers. When he pulls back, even his curls are smiling. She commits it to memory for future paintings.
"See you on the other side," he winks, and walks away.
The stage lights flood purple again. She stays in her corner until the next song is well into motion. It is Coffin.
Chandler is waiting for her with a small gray box when she comes out.
"I just want to remind you that this is a show, so please keep it together," he says, popping an in ear monitor out of the foam lining of the box, "you know the song, you can deal with the crowd?"
"Yes," she tilts her head so he can settle the monitor in her ear and start wiring it.
Corin's voice becomes much more intimate through the tiny speakers, "I'll never let you steal my coffin..."
She swallows again. The lights change to blue, then green. Chandler moves around to her other side. She turns her head to look at him.
"What did you tell that roadie earlier?"
"I told her to open a can of Monster, dump it out, and put Sprite in it. He'll be pissed, but whatever." Chandler's dark eyes flick to hers, "you're not the only one who knows how he is, Maeva. We all have a part in taking care of him."
The second monitor nestles in her ear before she can respond to that. Alex's guitar comes through much clearer, completing the rage of the song. Maeva takes a trembling breath and plays with her microphone. Coffin ends. There are more jokes, more taunts, more manic laughter. Then the lights turn blood red, and the slow, sultry opening to Wasp touches her ears.
Adrenaline bursts and spirals up her spine. It carries tension through her shoulders, up her throat.
"January is the color of her skin, February are her lips so inviting..." Corin's singing is dark and gravelly and slow.
Maeva blows breaths from her stomach through her lips, working out the tension. Her adrenaline pulls higher the closer he gets to the chorus.
"Her body shakes, her breath is cold. To keep her safe is all I know..."
She turns on her microphone and holds it by her lips.
"I've been stung by the wasp..." his anger digs nails into her ears.
Maeva breathes into the microphone, "so...come to me."
Corin misses his next line. She can hear him freeze through her in-ears. Alex murmurs the lyric for him between strums.
"So...come for me," she steps into the searing stage lights amid the sound of her own moans.
That first time is still such a vivid memory in her mind. It flares with heat when her eyes find his across the stage.
Corin remains still, staring at her with eyes that are frighteningly alive. Too alive, between the shock and the wild and the pain. She spares glances at his wrists, and finds them whole. His spooked expression has narrowed into fury—blues glowing too bright, nose flared, teeth edging out.
She steels her stomach and sings his next lyric, "come with me, and disappear without a trace—"
"—Criminal, in how I crave the way she tastes," he bites back.
His shoulder turns to her as he sings to the crowd. There is no changing the hostility in his voice though. His bitter glares in her direction.
"She kills me..." he steps closer to growl it at her. She glares back at him.
The crowd beneath him loves it, loves the energy pouring off of him. She hates it, hates the speed of his movements and muscles, the hollowness of him. The fact that he is only yellow-orange energy right now, barely himself anymore.
"Her lipstick stings like acid rain, dissolving away my sense of restraint," Corin moves back from her, and she follows him. His growls turn into snarls, "streetlamps burned through the cloak of the fog, concealing the violence, I've been stung by the wasp."
"So...come for me," Maeva reaches for his belt loops and catches one, stopping him.
His breath catches; Alex covers another line for him.
She brings her fingers up to his collarbone, just brushing his slick, dark skin.
"So...come for me."
Corin glares at her throughout the interlude. She only blinks at him, waiting for him to understand. His jaw is set in a stubborn clench as he lifts the mic to his mouth.
"I will wait, endlessly..." sarcasm drips off his words. His fingers dig into her hip and yank her flush to him, "I will break you carefully..."
Maeva gasps right into his mic at the feel of his body on hers, the heat and sweat and slither of muscle sinking through her thin dress.
"So take me harmfully," she breathes, and moves her fingers up his gold-washed throat. "You fit, so perfectly. I will wait..." her voice comes soft and promising through her own monitors, touch the same on Corin's jaw.
His thick lashes flutter shut, and the chorus comes hard from his chest, a mantra, an affirmation. But with each word he grows a little softer. One finger at a time, his hand relaxes and begins to cradle her hip to his. Maeva touches his cheeks, his nose, moves his damp hair aside. Her own locks are beginning to feel heavy and sticky.
When he finally opens his eyes, they are full of surrender and pleading, "some hurt me again, it's not worth saving, the heart that I've spent my whole life breaking," he begs her not to do this to him, not to make him go through this hell again.
"The windshield cracks through the cloak of the fog, concealing in silence, I've been stung by the wasp..."
"So...come for me," she picks up his wrist and tugs him back toward center stage.
Corin hesitates, and then he follows her, "I've been stung by the wasp..."
"So...come for me..." Maeva smiles at him.
He tangles his fingers with hers, "I've been stung by the wasp."
The electronics begin to fade around them. Alex picks up Corin's last line as he stares at her. The glow in his irises is infinitesimally softer, warmer, full of all the pretty blue feelings she has been waiting for. Maeva blinks back at him, a prickle like tears behind her own eyes. The song ends, and a half a moment later, a crash splits through her monitors.
Both of Corin's arms are finding her waist, dragging her toward him. Maeva jumps into his chest and kisses him with all the new things she has let out of her heart. She pulls him closer by the hair, drowning him in them. A smile curves his lips against hers. He cups her jaw and kisses her again. The arm around her waist is tight with the promise to never let go.
The crowd is screaming their delight at the kissing, the improved song. She hears Alex cheering through her monitors, Nathaniel's slow, approving clap beside him.
Corin finally pulls away with a warm breath. He tugs both of their in-ears out and leans his forehead on hers.
"Hello, lover," she says, brushing her nose against his.
"What are you doing to me, Maeva?" It comes out in a single rush of breath.
"I'm giving in. I'm done wasting whatever time we have."
Corin shakes his head and leans away from her.
"You have no idea how long I've waited to hear that. But," his rough voice hitches enough that he actually has to pause, "I just don't know if I can. Everything has gotten so twisted I don't want to go through this again it's going to—"
Maeva stops his rapid speech with her fingertip.
"This is also me promising you," She takes a tremulous breath, "I don't know what's going to happen, and that scares me, but...but I'm not going to hurt you again, I'm promising you that."
"Oh, Mae," he brushes tears off her lashes, "you can't ever know that. That's the most important part of emotions—they're utterly unpredictable."
"No, Corin, listen to me," she strokes the scars on his wrist, looks at the soft blue of his eyes, and remembers the chaotic blue from the alley, the cold glow from just a few minutes ago.
"I'm promising. I want you to call me every night on tour, and say sweet things to me. I want you to come home to me and kiss me like we won't be here tomorrow. I want to paint everything about you, and for you to write all the songs in the world about us. I want you to make me fall in love with you, and vice versa."
His eyes have widened with each little thing she has said. He kisses her again, swift and hard.
"You made me love you quite a while ago."
"So?" She cocks her head.
He laughs, "so, this is me giving in. This is me promising you all those things you asked for. I'll give them to you, so long as you give me something back."
"I will."
"Perfect," his arms come around her, "I can't believe you did this."
"Neither can I," Maeva laughs through more tears, "Don't get used to it."
Corin kisses each of her dimples. His smile finds hers.
"Never," he whispers.
The stage lights drop.
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A/N: Thank you so much for reading all the way through! I loved sharing this, and hope you enjoyed it. If you did, or didn't, please comment and let me know!
Song Credits:
"Wasp" by Motionless in White.