Sitting cross legged on the ground, I pushed the empty cardboard box behind me with the rest and placed the photo frame in my hand on the ground.
Sighing I cupped my chin in my hands, staring around at what was spread across the ground before me.
I’d opened every single box I’d kept stored since I moved into the apartment, the things gave off a stale scent and some of it was faded, but it looked exactly how I remembered. It had taken me hours to do, the gleam of the morning sun was peeking through the large windows into my apartment, but I wasn’t sparing it a moment to consider the morning.
Almost all the things spread across the ground might look like rubbish to most people. I honestly couldn’t say why I saved these things over all these years. The photographs, framed diamond records and awards made sense, but the pieces of stray paper, throw away booklets, tickets, set lists; those were things that should have been tossed right away.
Yet as I sat here, my legs going slightly numb, a pile up of boxes behind me, The Arctic Monkeys’ Suck It And See vinyl was coming to an end, I couldn’t help but be thankful I’d kept all of this.
“Your love is like a studded leather headlock. Your kiss, it could put creases in the rain. You’re rarer than a can of dandelion and burdock. And those other girls are just Postmix lemonade,” sang Alex Turner through the speaker system I had spread out through the apartment. Leaning forward, I picked up that photograph I’d placed on the ground without looking at. Staring down, I could feel those chords on my heart getting tugged violently to the point of pain in tune to the guitar in the song. “Suck it and see, you never know. Sit next to me before you go. Jigsaw women with hollow movie blue shoes. Be cruel to me ‘cause I’m a fool for you.”
Slowly, I ran my finger down the side of the glass covering the photo, feeling the song sinking beneath my skin as I stared at those four happy faces. This photo was from the very beginning of The Spares. We looked so young, all bright and though we had that nineties cynicism built in deep, we looked as hopeful as a sixties band standing in the sunlight. “I poured my heart into a pop song. I couldn’t get the hang of poetry. That’s not a skirt, girl, that’s a sawn-off shotgun. And I can only hope that it’s aimed at me.”
My bright red hair was shining underneath the sun, but my eyes were crinkled shut from laughter as Seth pressed a kiss to my cheek, his eyes glowing golden even as his dark hair cancelled out my brightness. He had his arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me flush against him. And there was Jake, making a mocking gagging expression to my side, his tongue sticking out of his mouth with his long blonde hair pushed behind his ears. Then, of course, there was William who was on Seth’s side and he was laughing loudly at something I couldn’t remember, his arms crossed in front of his chest and the toothy smile scrunching his eyes.
“Blue girls from once upon a Shangri-La. How often I wonder where you are. You’ve got a face that just says, “Baby, I was made to break your heart.”.”
Giving a tight laugh, I lightly ran my fingertips over Seth’s hair in the photo, moving them so they moved across his strong cheekbones before curling my hand around the corner of the photo. There was no doubt that if anyone was made to break another person’s heart, it was Seth and I.
That was just the relationship we’d had. It had been so passionate that when the fire started to consume, we started to destroy. And we’d always been good at destruction.
As the song ended, that singularly moment of silence let me hear as the door swung open.
I wasn’t surprised by it, which I might have found odd had I not been in a sleep deprived state; I just placed the photo gently in front of me. A smile came onto my face, and I almost felt as if I should sway as I twisted around to the door.
For a moment I almost expected someone else to be closing the door. I felt like I should be seeing a boy with dark tousled hair, golden eyes and a leather jacket closing the door behind him. And he’d smile at me with that dimple as he saw me delving into our pasts, sit behind me and wrap his arms around me, making my skin tingle before singing along to the next song into my ear in a low voice. But I should know better than that, even in this state, I should know he’d never be doing that again.
It was Nick, who closed the door, and he wasn’t smiling, his eyes were worried. He was always looking so worried these days, and I knew it was because of me. I’d work through it on my own eventually, but I didn’t like to know that I was the reason he didn’t have that carefree smile on his face all the time.
“Hey,” I greeted, that smile staying on my face as the music started again.
He didn’t look reassured by my smile as his eyes travelled around the mess that was my apartment. I know it would be shocking for him; this apartment was always spotlessly clean as if no one even lived in it. Little did he know how messy I could be.
Slowly he moved across the room, treading almost tentatively before he dropped on the ground beside me, stretching his legs out as he wrapped an arm around my waist. “Are you alright?” he asked in a low voice, barely audible over the music.
Still smiling, I turned my head, placing a light kiss on his cheek and letting my lips linger there. I knew why he almost had a suspicious note in his voice; I was almost suspicious of the peace I had gained in this moment. I’d been hanging on a thread for everyone to see lately, casting myself into a spiral, and all the sudden I was calm and smiling with music blasting and random rubble spread across the apartment. Maybe it was just the eye of the storm.
I wouldn’t be surprised if he thought I’d finally lost my mind.
“I’m fine,” I assured him, my lips brushing against his cheek. Slowly I let my eyes drift closed, finally feeling the weight of the day pressing down upon me as I leaned into his body, my head dropping onto his sweater clad shoulder.
Gently he ran a hand over my hair, making a small smile come back onto my mouth. “What is all of this?”
Opening my eyes again, I stared out across the mess in a whole. “This,” I started, gesturing outwards with my head still on his shoulder, “Is my life with The Spares.”
“What?” he asked in a voice coloured in confusion.
Smiling, I just shook my head ever so slightly. “These are all the things I kept from The Spares years,” I explained gently my mouth pressed against the softness of his sweater. “This was what I had packed away.”
There was a moment of silence, causing me to tip my head to the side so I could see his expression. He wasn’t exactly frowning, but he wasn’t smiling either. I didn’t understand the look he was wearing as his eyes searched all the things lying across the couches, floor, coffee table and kitchen. Eventually he spoke up, asking, “Why did you decide to take it out now?”
I wanted to snap at him, ‘why do you think?’ but I held my tongue. It was very much against that mood I’d been in. That sleep deprivation was addling with my mind. “I guess since the music is getting sold, I’m going back to the beginning where it was all ours.”
Nodding, he didn’t look at me as his eyes continued to work over everything.
As the needle lifted off the album, signalling the end and showering us in silence, I still didn’t move. I gave him a long moment to look over everything before I began to speak. “You can ask,” I pointed out.
Finally he looked down at me; the frown was visible in his eyes if not his face. “What?”
“You can ask what about these things. I know The Spares were your favourite band,” I told him, “Just ask.”
Understanding what I meant this time, he didn’t waste much time as he looked back to the things, all too soon pointing at a place where there were a bunch of booklets in one area. “What are those?”
I moved my head slightly, keeping it on his shoulder, but no longer able to see him from my position. “Those are the festival booklets from our first year as a band, all of them are from the UK. That was the first time we ever did festivals. I mean, we were just playing the afternoon slots, but that was the first time we got to experience doing that as a band.”
“Where’s your favourite place to tour?”
At his question I felt him shift slightly to look down at me, but I stayed facing forward. “The UK,” I mused after a moment of thought. “We’d toured clubs out here before going there, but I don’t what it is about that place, they just seem to get it more than people here, you know? Maybe it’s the rock history that comes from that place, but whatever it is, that’s where The Spares really got recognized for the first time.”
“How about that?” I followed the point of his finger to find him focused on a singular concert ticket not too far away from us.
“That’s a ticket Will got off a fan in exchange for the shirt he was wearing in the concert and signing it. It’s from the first time we played Wembley, we sold it out and it was only the second year of us being a band.”
The questions went on like that. I think it was the first time I had ever been open and honest to him at the same time, and I blamed it on my sleep deprived state. Who knows what I’d agree to in moments like these.
He asked about everything he could point at, from photographs to a broken drumstick or all the way to the movies I’d kept. The movies ranged from music documentaries the four of us watched constantly or concerts that had been filmed of The Spares, though I’d never watched them. The broken drumstick was from our last show; William had been playing so hard it had snapped in half.
And the photographs were endless, and if you looked at them in order you could see the way our tale had progressed. So bright and happy at the beginning, then we got a little darker yet still happy and close, our eyes started to get more hooded, then all the sudden we looked perfectly normal again after the time we’d stopped using drugs completely. Yet all the sudden you could see as there was getting distance between us, and it got further and further with every picture, we started to look worn out, suspicious and downright miserable right up to the very end.
When we finally lapsed into silence, I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to muster up the courage to speak. I never wanted to talk about him, let alone to Nick, but I needed to do this.
“I know what you were going to do at the studio,” I finally got the words out.
Without a clue he knew what I was talking about, Nick pressed his lips to my hair, asking, “And what was I going to do?”
“You were ready to have at it with Seth,” said I, staring straight ahead with dry eyes. “You thought you were going to be able to protect me, both you and Ben, from him. You were ready to get into a fight with a guy I know you idolize.”
“Keely,” Nick started, his voice unsure.
Pushing up, I turned slightly so I was looking straight into his uncertain eyes. “You don’t need to protect me from him,” I told him slowly, searching his face. “Let me tell you, if something like that happens again, leave him to me, it’s not like he’d ever physically hurt me. It’s so much easier for me to deal with him, I promise you.”
“He was being an asshole,” Nick pointed out.
This time I squeezed my eyes shut, holding the moment together as I found that peace I’d had slipping out of my grasp.
“I’m going to tell you something,” I announced, shifting so I was kneeling and cupping his cheeks with my hands so he couldn’t look away. “And I want you to listen to it, even when I say I didn’t mean it once I get some sleep, alright?”
Although he looked bewildered, Nick had the grace to nod anyways.
“I don’t want you to hate him,” I blurted out.
“Keely,” he said, putting his hands up to pull mine away.
“No,” said I firmly, “Listen to this. I hate him, but I can’t deny that he’s a genius in ways you don’t even know about. I’m never going to be able to explain the way I feel about him to you, just know it’s nothing good. And even though I hate him, I hate him so much, I don’t want you to. I’m not saying I want you two to be best friends, because I don’t want you to be anything like him. But he’s one of your heroes; I know that Nicholas. You told me that it was him, John Lennon and Noel Gallagher a long time ago. As musicians from our generation go, he’s it, but that’s not to say he’s not an asshole. So whatever you feel about him, make sure it’s nothing to do with me, okay?”
Nick stared at me for a long moment, his eyes searching my face but he found nothing but raw honesty painted in it and finally he nodded.
“Things might get nasty, and you might hear things that you’ve never heard about me and him and the band, but that’s the past, okay? And I love you. I swear I do,” I promised him, not once breaking eye contact.
“You’re starting to scare me now,” Nick replied, his tone suggested he was trying to make it into a joke, but I could see the truth from his words in his eyes. “He’s only back in town, it’s not that bad.”
However I just shook my head. “You don’t know him, and you don’t know who I am with him around.”
Before he could comment, I pressed a kiss to his forehead gently, closing my eyes only momentarily. “I need to go shower and drink a litre of coffee, I’ll meet you at the studio.” Not waiting for his reply, I pushed away from him onto my feet before walking towards my bedroom without a backwards glance.
Awkwardly, I shut the door of Robert’s office door behind me.
For a moment I just stood there frozen, and I knew I probably looked like quite the sight with wide eyes and a gaping mouth, but I couldn’t help it. Shell shocked was a good way to describe what I was feeling.
When I’d finally made it to the studio – cleaner, but just as tired – I’d sucked up my pride and headed into his office with my head down.
There was one thing I knew, whatever I felt like saying and my own feelings concerning the man, I should have never spoken to Robert the way I had last night. I wasn’t one to take back words, and that wasn’t my intention today, but I knew I had to apologize this one time. There wasn’t a time when I was good at damage control, though this time I had to give in. Robert was likely to be vindictive, especially because I’d spoken to him like that in front of all those people, and since he was pretty much my boss, there was no doubt that he could make my life very much a living hell.
Yet the ordeal hadn’t been as mortifying or degrading as I thought it might be. In fact, I’d barely gotten words out about my behaviour the day before and he was waving me off, smiling broadly and telling me that it was quite alright. Artists were always passionate, and he told me I was obviously no exception, I should just go and work on the album. And he said this all wearing that smile…
Standing there, I began to get suspicious. There was no way I was getting off that easily.
Pulling a face I just fixed the strap of my bag on my shoulder before treading the not so familiar path from his office down to my studio. He was up to something, and I could swear it wasn’t going to end well for me.
Moments like these could be nice. Sure, I was still glancing over my shoulder at every moment; half expecting Seth to be there and wishing that he was nowhere near. Yet I loved seeing those shocked expressions on people’s faces when they saw me walking back into the studio as if the day never happened before. They probably didn’t even think I’d show my face today, I wouldn’t doubt if they thought I was going to pull a diva and hide away in my apartment.
Smiling smugly, I shifted through them. Yeah, try to guess what I’m about to do. I love to prove people wrong.
Walking down that dark stairway, I couldn’t help but think going through those boxes had been the best thing I could have done last night. Sure, I wouldn’t doubt that I’d knee Seth again if I saw him, and it caused me to feel queasy at the thought of calling up Jake or William, but I’d opened up to the past.
Well, as much as I could. I still felt separated from it. There was no way I could bring those two different girls together, it would be catastrophic.
Hell, this was catastrophic. Everything that was happening, by the end, I’d be done.
One thing I knew was that I wasn’t getting out of this unscathed.
Sighing, I rubbed my temples as I walked down into the studio, finding all of the members of the band strewn across the room.
Despite them all being in very much different positions – it looked as if Jackson was hiding his head in the corner, or he had been put in a time out – I noticed one thing as their eyes turned to me, they all looked hesitant, almost scared. And I couldn’t blame them, the past two sessions in this studio hadn’t exactly gone smoothly. Well, yesterday had gone well right until the very end.
I mean, one of their idols marching into the studio only to be kneed in the crotch by someone else that they’d idolized. Yeah, that was no biggie.
Walking straight into the studio, I dropped my bag on the table before reaching up to pull my hair back into a messy bun on the top of my head. “We’re going to rerecord You Should Know,” I announced, referring to the song I’d been trying to mix when we’d been interrupted the night before. I moved towards the soundboard without glancing at my hair, knowing fully well that it was probably sticking out at the most awkward position as I continued, “We’re going to take out all the instrumentation except the guitar.”
Ben’s voice was the one that spoke what I was sure every person in the studio – but me – was thinking at the moment, making my hand pause before I could finish setting up the board. “You’re doing what he wanted?”
There was no doubting who the he in this equation was.
Closing my eyes, I hauled in one shaky breath before steadily beginning to work through the board. “Nope,” I told the room in general without lifting my head or turning around.
“But we’re just doing what he told you to do.”
This time my head did snap up, and I glared daggers into the glass in front of me that showed the reflection of the band in it. “I’m not doing what he told me to do,” I said sharply, “And it’s not what he wanted. If it was his choice he’d put Nick on with a solo guitar, keep the track clean and complicate the guitar. We’re not doing that.” I kept my comment that I didn’t think they could play the guitar track he’d have made to myself.
There was a long moment of silence, but it was Nick that seemed to work up the courage to speak after my words. “What are we going to do then?”
“You, Marcus and Ben all play the guitar. We’re going to keep the guitar tracks by themselves rather simple, keep it on acoustic, but I want the finger noise with it, we’ll dirty it up a bit. And when we have the three separate tracks, we’re going to cross-fray them into each other. Nick you wrote the song, I want you to rework the lyrics tonight, switch up the hook a bit and loosen up the words, it’s a bit stiff at the moment. We’ll work on the vocals tomorrow.”
In the reflection, they all looked shocked at my sudden barked commands, but all nodded to my decisions not saying a word. I almost wished that they’d challenge me a bit, voice their own opinions, but they just agreed.
“Alright, Ben, go into the studio, I’ll tell you what microphone we’re going to use for the guitar once you’re in there,” I ordered, looking back down at the board as I busied myself. “It’s going to sound great. Let’s go.”
“You’re sober,” Fiona said point blankly.
Raising my eyebrows, I placed the guitar on the chair, shaking out my arms. “What tipped you off?” I replied with a raised eyebrow.
She brushed the stylish bangs from her pixie cut away from her eyes, looking down at the ground shamefaced. “Look,” she began, “I’m sorry about the way I –”
Not letting her finish, I cut in quickly, “Don’t worry about it.”
The last thing I wanted to have was a heart to heart with the bassist of my back up band right before the show. The four of us had just warmed up, singing scales and practicing the songs in my change room instead of the room that had been set up just for this purpose with comfortable couches and plenty of alcohol.
Quickly I glanced around the room in hopes to find something to distract me from Fiona, but found John and Darren in a conversation with one of the sound guys called Alex. One distraction was to have a drink, but I figured I’d save that for after the show tonight.
But I was starting to really want one.
All I kept getting was lingering glances from people that we’re supposed to be part of the crew as well as the people that worked at the club. There wasn’t much of a doubt what for. Some people were hoping and others dreading a repeat of the last show that we’d played, and the fact that The Spares’ catalog was going up for auction was apparently public knowledge by this time. I just wanted these gazes off me. Now. Those pitying glances were grating on me, and the next person that asked me if I was alright was likely to get the answer straight in the nose.
“How much time do we have before the show starts?” I called out in random, shifting from my heels to my toes, trying to keep moving before the show. That tension that came before a show was there, and I wanted nothing more to keep moving or else my foot was bound to go crazy with tapping.
It was Alex who answered, although I could feel all the eyes in the room on me – I just chose to ignore them. “You’ve got a little while,” he replied, checking his watch, “Why?”
“Then I need a smoke,” I muttered.
Without watching for their reactions, I gripped the faded jean jacket off where it was hung over the edge of a chair and slipping it over my shoulders before leaving the room. The jacket that was ripped in certain places was supposed to finish off the look that went with the black leather boots and baggy white tank top that had the words ‘Screw Hipsters” scrawled across the front, but what did I know? I just knew that I needed to find Brad to go get me a pack of cigarettes, right now.
I went straight to right back stage where most of the people from the crew were hanging out, wasting away the minutes until the show, but there was no Brad. Cursing, I stuffed my hands in my jacket pockets, stalking away in the opposite direction. I needed something to keep my mind off the stares I was getting, to keep me from getting too caught up in my own thoughts and I didn’t want the sympathetic looks I’d get if I started drinking. Fuck compassion.
And I was out of smokes, dammit. It wasn’t like I could exactly just walk out to the closest corner store right now; there was a mob out the front of the club.
It wasn’t until I was making my way to the common room that I realized that my hands were trembling.
For a moment I paused, running my shaking hands over my and into my hair. Everything I’d managed to hold at bay while I was focusing on my past this morning then the Fly Way song was hitting me now that our warm up was over. I just needed something to keep my mind occupied.
It was so easy to fake it for the rest of the world, even lie to myself, if I had something I could focus on. Yet the moment I had free time on my hands, the things came back to me. My song writing, The Spares, Seth, the music, Nick.
God, I just needed that fucking smoke.
Sighing I walked forward pushing the door of the common room open by the cold door handle, yet I’d only managed to get two steps before I halted dead in my tracks.
“Who the hell let you in?”
Easily, Seth lifted his head from where he’d been leaning back against the couch and raised his eyebrows. “There are perks about being me.”
Setting my jaw, I stared at him without moving from my position, hearing the door shut behind me even as I kept my one hand stuffed in my pocket, the other hanging limply at my side. “No, literally, tell me the name of the person who let you in. Better yet, point them out to me. I need to fire them.”
Languidly he took his feet off from where they were resting on the coffee table and standing up, acting as if there wasn’t hostility practically dripping off of me. “Since when were you vindictive, rebel?”
“I told you not to call me that,” I hissed.
“Oh, yeah, about that,” he began as if just remembering and giving a yawn paired with a stretch as he ran a hand through his hair. The motion was the exact same as his old habit, making his dark hair rumple as if fashioned. That son of a bitch. “Next time, aim for the face, it’s not worth as much,” Seth informed with a smug smirk.
I snorted loudly, rolling my eyes at his words. “You keep telling yourself that,” I told him, my tone so sugary it burnt my tongue, “But I know better.”
That got a surprising laugh out of him, but there was no dimple in his cheek that was burnt into my memory. “Do you remember the first time we played this club?” Seth asked out of the blue.
The question threw me off, and I blinked at him. “Seth,” I sighed, “I don’t know what you’re playing at, but now’s not the time for memory lane.”
“No one even had a clue about the band, they didn’t know one song,” he reminded me as if he hadn’t even heard me speak. “We got to play right through Laika, but people were shouting for songs from your solo album or NSR or The Cavern Jets or The Dynamic, and the worst was that guy right beside the stage by you. You got him a refill of his beer, handed it to him and said into the microphone, “Now will you shut the fuck up?”.”
Yes, I remembered that clearly. I couldn’t seem to forget a moment of that damn time, no matter how much I wanted too. I also remembered the fact that the two of us had got into a fight right after the show. I’d thrown the closest thing I had straight at his head, but luckily he’d dodged out of the way before the hairbrush nailed him in the head. Then we’d ended up having sex in that same change room not too long after. Talk about summing up our relationship. Music, fighting, sex.
But I didn’t say any of that. Instead I just stared at him through dry eyes, announcing, “I’m going to call security on you.”
“No, you’re not,” Seth said confidently, his hazel eyes piercing mine deeply.
Laughing without a hint of humour, I ran a hand through my hair as I looked up to the ceiling, pushing it out of my face. “You really think I wouldn’t? Do you really think I wouldn’t enjoy watching your ass get thrown in jail for harassment? That would look great on a record like yours.”
But he ignored my words again. “You know what’s going on with UAE and Jordan right now,” he stated. There wasn’t a question there.
“Of course I do,” said I, suddenly meeting his eyes dead on. I tried to keep my emotions at bay, but it wasn’t as easy around him, not about this and I could feel my throat tightening. “I was the one who stayed,” I reminded him, “I’m the one who had to talk to Jordan. Don’t fool yourself, Seth.”
“Then you know exactly what I came to talk to you about.”
Giving a hysterical laugh, I rubbed my palm over my face briskly. “There’s nothing to talk about!” I exclaimed. “There’s nothing we can do, they’re selling off the music; we have no say. What do you even care? What do any of you even care?”
This time his eyes darkened as they focused on me, and I could tell I struck a chord, but I wasn’t about to back down any time soon. “Why do I care, Staub?”
Even the use of my last name didn’t faze me, and I knew that he only used the surname when he was angry though I wished I could forget it. “Yes, Ryan,” I threw back, using his fake last name pointedly, “What do you fucking care? You, Will and Jake, you guys got out easy and left. It was nothing to you then, why are you pretending to give a shit now?”
Seth took a step forward, and to anyone else his height should have been daunting, but I just folded my arms over my chest and stood my ground, my eyes taunting.
Without giving him a chance to counter me, I pointed one arm at the door. “We’re not anything to each other anymore, there’s nothing we can do about The Spares’ music, so get the hell out of here before I do call security.”
Unsurprisingly, he didn’t listen to a word I said, instead took another step forward so he was close enough to touch and gripped my forearms, grabbing my attention even more solidly than before. The hold didn’t hurt, in fact it wasn’t even tight, but I cringed away from it as if I’d been burned, my eyes turning to slits as I stared at him.
“Let me go,” I spoke carefully, every word dangerous.
“We need to talk about what’s happening to the music,” he responded, keeping his grip.
Angrily, I tried to rip my arms from his hold, but it only succeeded in me getting pulled closer to him. “There’s nothing to talk about,” I seethed, “Let me go.”
Before he could reply, the door behind me swung open, but neither Seth or I looked towards it. In fact, had a voice not spoken, I probably wouldn’t have even realized the fact that another person had walked into the room.
“We’ve…” the familiar voice trailed off at the scene in front of them.
“Hi John,” spoke up Seth, but his tone was still furious. Even as he greeted my guitarist, his eyes didn’t leave my face, smouldering with anger.
“Hello Seth,” said John from behind him. “Good to see you after all this time, but we’ve got to be on stage right about now and if you don’t let her go right now, I’m not going to care about the fact I haven’t seen you in years, I’ll knock your front teeth out.”
The threat didn’t even make him blink. “After all this time, you owe me enough to listen to what I have to say,” Seth told me, his eyes boring into mine.
My chest was rising and falling rapidly from the fight as I glared at him, and this time when I wrenched my arms, he let go. “I don’t owe you anything,” I spat before turning on my heel and marching straight past John towards the stage.
I could feel the rush of the crowd as I got closer, but I was ignoring it as I bounced in my step, trying to rid myself of the previous conversation and get into a show mode. But it wasn’t working even as I shook my hands out as I came to a stop right outside the stage, hearing the crowd chanting my name. Ignoring the looks from both Darren and Fiona, I jumped up and down lightly on my toes, but it wasn’t making a difference. I was still almost trembling from anger.
He too ignoring the looks, John came up to me, talking in a low voice so now one could hear his words except for me. “Are you going to be alright?”
“I’ll be fine,” I said firmly, staring straight ahead. “Let’s just switch the cover we were going to do to the first song, alright?”
He didn’t say a word in response, and as the moments dragged on before we were signalled to go on stage, I found my gaze softening in front of me before I glanced to my side where John was standing loyally at my side. “Thanks for that,” I murmured, looking away from him as I spoke. Emotional moments weren’t really our style.
In reply, John just grunted.
Right after, I got the signal that it was time for us to go on stage, and I found myself grateful for it as I walked on stage.
Without even acknowledging the crowd, I walked straight for my guitar. There was a moment of decision, but it didn’t last long as I picked up the Gibson SG and slipped the black and white chequered guitar strap over my shoulder. “Hey New York!” I shouted into the microphone as I straightened the guitar, “How are you guys doing tonight?”
The expected cheering was definite, and I took the time to glance around to the band. Instantly I received nods from both Fiona and Darren, telling me that they had been informed of the set list change.
Darren started the Foo Fighters song from behind in the drums, and my eyes scoured the crowd for just one moment. And instantly I found him. Seth was leaning against the bar to the side, just on the outskirts of the crowd, his eyes fixed on the stage and on me. I just met his eyes for the moment.
One of the things I loved about playing this song was that when the guitar hit, you could jump straight into the song, and that’s what I did. I jumped into it, one foot stabilizing me as I jumped forward to the microphone, my hand slashing on the electric guitar as my entire body moved with motion, my head bobbing to the tempo.
Dropping the guitar, I left it up to John as I placed on hand on the microphone, pulling the entire stand at an angle towards me. “I thought I knew all it took to bother you. Every word I said was true and that you’ll see,” I sang out, holding my free hand up in the air with a pointed finger. “How could it be I’m the only one who sees your rehearsed insanity?” I finished the lyrics before jumping back onto the guitar.
“I still refuse all the methods you abuse. It’s alright if you’re confused, let me be. I’ve been around all the pawns you gagged and bound. They’ll come back and knock you down and I’ll be free. I’ve taken all and I’ve endured. One day it’ll all fade I’m sure.”
It was the chorus I couldn’t wait to jump into, and I gladly moved into it, shouting the words even as I met Seth’s eyes dead on. “I don’t owe you anything!” I shouted repeatedly.
“… I should have known we were better off alone,” I sang smoothly again as we ran through the song, “I looked in and I was shown you were too.”
This time when I met Seth’s eyes for the chorus, he got the message even louder and clearer than before. “I don’t owe you anything!” I could see him scoff even from my vantage point, and I felt that had I been closer, I would have seen him roll his eyes. “I don’t owe you anything!” Then he pushed off the bar, pushing through the crowd that didn’t even notice his identity with their eyes focused on me.
“I’ll stick around!” I promised at a shout even as I watched his retreating back going for the door. “I’ll stick around! And learn from all that came from it!”
Moving back from the microphone, I jumped energetically with the guitar, struck by the moment and turned my back to the crowd. However the moment the song was over, I glanced over my shoulder to see the door of the club slamming closed and let out a long breath.
Looking at my band, I bellowed over the screaming, “We’ll take it from the top!”
Even though I had a key to the place in my pocket, I found myself knocking at the door urgently despite the hour of the night. My knocking was loud enough that I was sure I probably woke some neighbours, but I didn’t care about that.
I had a certain person I needed to wake up right now.
Sure enough after minutes of my mindless pounding, I heard a voice shout from within, “I’m coming, okay?”
Halting the motion, I rocked a step back from the door, stuffing my hands in the pockets of my jeans even as my breath raced nervously. I didn’t dare think what I was doing in case I wimped out at the last moment. There was no going back now, I’d woken him up, I couldn’t just sprint away; he was bound to catch me if I tried to run.
The door swung open, and I smiled broadly, still feeling breathless as I stared at the boy framed in the door way.
“Keely?” mumbled Nick wearily. He was only wearing a pair of sweatpants and his eyes were clouded with sleep, making me certain that I’d pulled him out of bed at four in the morning. “Why didn’t you just use your key?”
“I want to move in.”
- Okay, so the chapter was originally going to be called I'll Stick Around because that's the song Keely sings in the chapter, but I couldn't resist calling a chapter Suck It And See. Plus if you watch the video, it describes Seth and Keely's relationship pretty well lol.
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