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terreisa · 4 years ago

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Love Down the Line: Chapter 11

The last thing Indie musician Emma Swan needs is a gigantic wrench thrown in the workings of her biggest tour to date weeks before its launch. When her backing guitarist that caused the problem says she has the perfect solution Emma is skeptical but left with little choice but to accept. Unfortunately she isn’t really prepared for said solution to be former Rock Star and leading man of Emma’s teenage fantasies, Killian Jones. With no other options and a month of performing across the country ahead of her Emma just hopes she doesn’t come to regret letting Killian onto her stage and into her life.

Ch 1, Ch 2, Ch 3, Ch 4, Ch 5, Ch 6, Ch 7, Ch 8, Ch 9, Ch 10, AO3

~*CS*~

Vancouver, May 30th

Emma stared out at the large, empty space in front of her feeling exhausted and exhilarated. She was sitting with her feet dangling off the edge of the stage, her heels drumming against the wall without any discernible rhythm. Her hair was still damp with sweat from the show and her arms ached from the intensity that she’d played but she didn’t care. Even the roadies working around her barely paid her any attention, they all knew she was merely basking in the moment.

Her tour was officially done. Seventeen cities in a month and every one of them had been amazing but there was always something extra special about the final show. It was as though everything and everyone had come together to create a perfect moment in time that they capitalized on to give the best show possible. Her playing had been spectacular, the others had been just as great, better even, and the audience had loved every second, sang every lyric, cheered their hearts out. They’d ended up doing two encores.

As her gaze swept across the thousands of empty seats she let out a contented hum. They had sold every ticket for every show and each venue had been just as big. It boggled her mind that every person that filled those seats did so because they loved her music, connected with her lyrics, and appreciated what she was trying to communicate through her art. She only wished she could have personally thanked each and every one of them for it.

The bustle behind her continued on as she soaked it all in. She took no notice of the footsteps approaching her until a pair of familiar, well worn boots stopped beside her. Looking up at Will with a smile she patted the stage next to her. Lowering himself next to her she noticed that he’d taken a shower, the smell of his body wash still strong. With a pang she realized that Killian had used the same brand.

“‘Nother one in the books, eh?” Will grinned, knocking her shoulder with his.

“Yeah,” she sighed happily, “Tonight was really great.”

He chuckled, shaking his head, “Clearly. You haven’t done two encores in ages. Then again, you haven’t been too keen on doin’ the planned one lately.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” She asked, frowning as she adjusted herself so she was facing him.

“Well-” he leaned back and gave her an unimpressed look, “Ever since LA and the shit with Killian you’ve been phonin’ it in a bit. Tonight was the first show you actually looked like you were havin’ fun.”

“I haven’t been phoning it in!” She protested a little too loudly, some of the crew behind her stopped to look over at them. Blushing she gave them a wan smile before glaring at Will, “I played my heart out at every show, asshole.”

“Not possible,” Will negated, his grin unfurled again, “You left that thing back in LA.”

She felt a pang of longing and regret again, even as she scrunched up her face in distaste, “That was really cheesy and absolutely not true.”

“Oy, you’ve put cheesier lines in your songs,” he accused. “Besides, I’m just the purveyor of truth in these troubled times. Admit it, you’ve not been givin’ it your all. Especially in Oakland. That was a rough one.”

She opened her mouth to refute and couldn’t. Will was absolutely right and she kind of hated him for it. Oakland had been more than rough, it had almost been a disaster. It had taken an intense pep-talk from Ruby and Tink combined to just get her to the venue. She’d been able to put on a convincing enough show but the second she’d stepped backstage between the main set and the encore she’d nearly had a complete breakdown. More than once during the show she had looked over expecting to see Killian grinning back at her and found Ruby instead. Every little thing she’d pushed aside had hit her as she’d moved offstage and it had taken everything she’d had to get back out on stage to finish the show.

“Yeah, well... Why didn’t anyone say anything?” She asked accusingly. “Regina didn’t even bring it up and you know she loves to find something to critique.”

“Eh, the shows haven’t been complete shite,” he said with a shrug. “No one’s posted a rant or got a new hashtag trendin’ and you know I’d tell you ‘bout those.”

She snorted, “I don’t know why you’re so fixated on social media. Hasn’t Belle broken you of that habit yet?”

“Ah, but she loves me for all my charmin’ qualities,” he said with a wink. “I’ve her almost convinced to join Instagram. Told her other nerds’ll love to see her books and all those plants her dad’s given her. They like seeing all those uninspired posts you do of your piano after all.”

“It’s the only thing I’m comfortable sharing,” she mumbled.

Will stared at her for a moment before nodding and looking out at the empty seats. She waited for him to finally say what he’d stayed behind to say instead of going back to the hotel with Belle. He loved to tease and stir up trouble but she knew that when he got serious that it meant something. There was no way he’d waited until nearly everyone else had left just so he could not so gently criticize the last few shows.

Instead of saying anything he began humming. Emma rolled her eyes and focused on watching the last of the equipment being packed up and cleared off the stage. It wasn’t until Will began singing under his breath that she recognized the song.

“Backstreet Boys? Really?” She asked with a raised brow.

“Show me the meaning of being lonely,” he said instead of singing, “So many words for a broken heart. Right, luv?”

She recoiled, “My heart’s not broken.”

“Could have fooled me and everyone else ‘round here. Even Belle noticed somethin’s off with you.”

“She did?”

Instead of answering Will looked back out over the empty seats, leaning back on his hands as he did so. He continued to recite the lyrics of the song, as though it was a masterpiece in verse instead of a late nineties pop song written with the sole purpose of being a hit. She watched, impressed and amused by his unabashed performance, spoken in a voice that carried to an audience of one.

Just as she was about to press him about what it was about her, that definitely wasn’t a broken heart, that Belle had noticed he fell silent. His mouth quirked up at the corner as he tilted his head to look at her.

“Have I ever told you how I met Belle?” He asked, his gaze soft.

She blinked, “Uh, no?”

“Broke into her shop,” he said proudly, the other side of his mouth ticking up into a boyish smile.

“You broke into her shop?” She asked slowly, not quite believing him.

“I was quite pissed at the time. That’d be drunk to you, you bloody yank,” he teased and she rolled her eyes, “Had the bright idea that a certain book was all I needed to set things to right.”

“You broke into her shop,” she repeated, “to steal a book?”

“Never said I was stealin’ anythin’,” he said with mock innocence. “I’m not sure I like what you’re implyin’.”

She huffed, “Fine, you broke into her shop to not steal a book. Did you meet her when she knocked you out before she called the cops?”

“Not exactly. You know those squishy little settees she’s got round the children’s nook?”

“You mean the beanbags? Yeah,” she said nodding.

“Well, I tuckered meself out picking the lock, findin’ that bloody book, and drinking far too much whisky. Decided to take a little nap before movin’ along,” he said with a nonchalant shrug.

“So you passed out and Belle found you in the morning?” She surmised.

“The cops found me first, not fifteen minutes after I’d set off a silent alarm. Belle was livin’ above the shop then. She had no idea anythin’ was amiss until after they’d cuffed me and had her come down so they could explain what’d happened-” he ducked his head at that. When he continued his voice was fond, “The constables were telling her what I could be charged with and she just kept lookin’ at my sorry ass. Drunk as all hell and mouthin’ off, as I’m wont to do. When they finished their little spiel she calmly told them that I was a friend and she’d forgotten that she’d offered me her couch to sleep on. Mind you, I’d never even stepped foot in her store before that night.

“Well the officers didn’t take too kindly to that. Blustered and threatened but she never backed down. I was at least sober enough to go along with her tales, who was I to ruin a perfectly good lie on my behalf? Finally, they removed the cuffs and took their leave, not without dire warnings and some more threats. As soon as the door closed behind them Belle invited me up for tea.”

“And you fell in love. Cute,” Emma tried not to sound bitter but failed completely.

“Nah,” he said with a click of his tongue, “That took a while yet.”

“Okay… so why are you telling me this?”

Will eyed her, “You’re askin’ the wrong question, luv.”

She frowned. There were a dozen questions she could have asked, least of all why Belle put up with him. He watched her patiently which only pissed her off.

“I give up,” she said, throwing her hands up in exasperation. “You’re obviously trying to tell me something so just spit it out.”

“You should have asked why I thought I needed a book that bad in the first place,” he stated, as though it were obvious.

“Fine then, why?”

“To broaden my horizons, of course,” he said cheekily with a wide grin. When she glared at him he grew serious, “Books always have the answer, yeah? Thought I’d find a way to win back my ex in one of them.”

There was only one ex Will could have been talking about and she’d done a number on him. The poems he’d written about her were terrible but the broken heart he’d suffered and lashing out he did was worse. She was still surprised he hadn’t ended up in jail from the stories he’d told her over the years.

“Ana.”

He nodded solemnly, “This was about a year after she’d ended things. I’d already started playing with you lot but I was still hurtin’. Probably didn’t help that we rehearsed across from her new husband’s office. Used to see her stoppin’ by to see him every few weeks. Couldn’t escape her, even if I wanted to.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” She asked softly.

“Why didn’t you tell us about what happened with Jones?” He shot back, though not unkindly. Shrugging he pushed himself forward and set his elbows on his thighs, his hands dangling between his legs, “Self preservation mostly and, yeah, a bit of enjoyin’ the wallowin’. Then Belle invited me for a cuppa instead of pressin’ charges. She’d seen my blusterin’ for what it was because she’d had a bit of a rough go of it herself. A couple of abusive exes will do that to ya.”

She nodded. Belle hadn’t told her much about her romantic history but what she’d told Emma was enough.

“Anyway we drank the tea, I sobered up, apologized, and that was it. I went on my way expecting nothing to come of it but another tale to spin for people over a pint-” the soft look returned, “Then a week later I ended up back at the shop. When it was open of course. Looked around a bit, chatted with her and then left. Kept doin’ that a couple times a week for a month or so before I realized I was stoppin’ by every time I’d seen Ana visitin’ her husband. Stayed away for two weeks after that. Belle took it all in stride, of course, welcomed me back with another cuppa and a book of poems.”

Emma smiled, knowing exactly when that was. He’d suddenly stopped writing his own poems and started reading them instead. She’d noticed that he’d seemed more settled, less angry, and she’d written a song about it. Will had demanded a writer’s credit as a result.

“That’s when I realized I was fallin’ for her. Thing was, I had always believed I’d love Ana forever, even if it meant I spend the rest of my days pinin’ after her like a lovesick fool. Had a real close look at what I was doin’ with my life. Only stayed away a week that time and asked Belle out to dinner before the door to her shop had closed behind me when I went back. She said no.”

“She said no?” Emma gasped, having fully expected a cutesy story of their first date to follow.

Will’s smile was enigmatic, “You see while I was having my little crisis of faith Belle was havin’ one of her own. All she knew about me was I was a terrible thief who played in a band and had an affinity for poetry. That was enough for any woman to be wary of trusting me and with the number both of her exes did on her she had no trust left to give. She wanted to say yes but couldn’t bring herself to put everything on the line if there was even the smallest chance of it shattering beneath her.”

She shifted uncomfortably, dropping her gaze to her hands that were perched in her lap. Unless Ruby or Regina had blabbed no one else knew exactly what had happened with Killian. All she’d told Will and Tink was that things hadn’t worked out, end of story. They hadn’t pushed for more of an explanation and she’d thought that was that. Clearly she was wrong.

“Does Belle know you’re telling me all this really personal information about her?” She asked accusingly, unable to keep herself from lashing out before he prodded a really vulnerable spot.

“Like I said, luv, she noticed there was somethin’ off with you-” he pointed a finger at her, “and before you go accusin’ me of blabbin’ about you to her I haven’t said a word. I can be a wanker but I do know how to respect a person’s privacy.”

“Why didn’t she say something?”

He sighed, “You two are friendly but you’re not exactly the sharin’ type are ya? She didn’t feel it was her place to butt into your life.”

“Oh, but it’s yours?” She asked harshly.

“We’re a horse of a different color, you and I,” he said with a conspiratorial air, “Seein’ as our love of music unites us.”

She smacked him in the arm and he gave her a wink in return. He wasn’t wrong. When they first met they got along like oil and water but she’d needed a drummer and he genuinely liked her songs. It had taken a slew of dive bars and a cramped van to tolerate each other and a little over a year before he was one of the few people she considered a tried and true friend.

“She could have talked to me,” she said petulantly.

“And she still might if this-” he waved his hand between them, “here doesn’t take. But I haven’t finished my story yet.”

“Sorry,” she said, feeling anything but, “continue.”

“Where was I?” He asked cheekily, chuckling at her glare. “Right, I’d decided to woo Belle and she’d wisely decided to protect her heart. Let me down gently, of course, my Belle.

“I was a bit disappointed but I also knew why she’d said no. Stopped goin’ round the shop, thought it’d be best to take a step back. She didn’t need me hangin’ around makin’ things awkward. Surprised the hell out of me when a month later she showed up at one of our gigs and asked me to dinner as soon as the set was done. She said that no one had actually listened to her or respected her decisions before, especially her exes, and that even if she didn’t know much about me she was willin’ to give me a chance. Celebrated three years back in March.”

“I know, you posted it all over Instagram,” she said with only a hint of the frustration she was feeling, “Is that it?”

“Almost,” he said with a chuckle, “Long story short-”

“Too late,” she muttered.

“Belle knew somethin’ was off with you ‘cause she’s been there before and she wanted me to tell you ‘cause she thought I could get you to see what’s in front of your face-” he said with a touch of impatience. “If you broke things off with Jones because he was bloody awful or your personalities didn’t mesh or whatever that’s one thing. If you did it because you’re scared then that’s somethin’ else. Okay, now I’m done.”

Emma sat, stunned, as Will stood up and stretched. He gave the few crew members still clearing the stage a genial wave before offering her his hand. With a scowl and some reluctance she grabbed it and let him haul her up beside him. She gave him a wary look, girding herself against more pointed jabs at her emotional expense, but he just spun on his heel and started walking off stage.

“That’s it?!” She called after him, a bit disgruntled.

“I said my piece, luv,” he parried back without turning around. “Besides I’ve my lady love waitin’ for me back at the hotel. She’s a rare one but I don’t think she’d be too forgivin’ if I spent the whole night with another woman. Even if it’s you.”

She rushed after him, “You’re not going to try to convince me to call him or… or tell me about how much of a great guy he is or something?”

“I ain’t gonna tell you what to do, luv. You’re the one that has to decide if you want to keep bein’ miserable or not-” he pulled his phone from his pocket, “I’m orderin’ a Lyft, you wanna ride with?”

“I’ve got a car waiting,” she said absently, still trying to figure out his game.

“Excellent, you got anythin’ you need to grab?” He asked without looking up, tapping away at his phone, “I can wait.”

“No, Ruby grabbed it all for me-” she grabbed his elbow and swung him around to face her, “You’re really not going to say anything else?”

He sighed, “You’ll do what you want and if you actually listened to what I’ve told you then you know there’s nothin’ else I could say. Now, do you want to stay here until we’re kicked out?”

She looked back across the stage but the magic of the moment was gone. Now it was just a big empty space with the last of the equipment being rolled out through the wings by the sweaty road crew.

“Fine, let’s go.”

The ride to the hotel was quiet. Will had clearly said everything he’d wanted to, spending the whole ride furiously texting someone. For her part she was too pissed off at him while trying desperately not to think too much about what little lesson he’d been trying to get her to understand to say anything remotely close to nice. When they reached the hotel he stopped her from leaving the car with a hand on her arm.

“One last thing-”

“Really?!” She snapped. “I just want to go up to my room, drink the champagne that I know the label sent, and not think about the emotional vomit you dropped in my lap tonight.”

“It needed to be said,” he stated without a hint of remorse. Then he squeezed her arm gently and sighed, “Look, I’m gonna send you somethin’ and you need to promise me you’ll look at that first.”

“First?” She asked warily, pulling her phone out of her back pocket. She’d never taken it off silent and saw that there were way more texts and calls than she’d expected to be there, “What is it?”

“Nothin’ too terrible,” he hedged.

His gaze darted over her shoulder. When she looked she saw a few paparazzi waiting by flanking the front doors of the hotel. She turned back to him and saw his jaw ticking.

“Will-”

He ignored her and leaned towards the driver, “Hey, mate, mind pullin’ round the back so we don’t get ambushed?”

“Of course, sir,” the driver said with a nod, immediately pulling away from the curb.

“Will,” she put every ounce of frustration she could into his name.

“You’ll thank me later,” he said absently, back to tapping madly on his phone, “And you know what, don’t look at it until you’re in your room. Can you do that?”

Just as she was about to grab the hand that was on her arm and twist it until bones cracked the car stopped again. Looking outside she saw they were at some kind of loading dock and one of the doors was propped open.

“Brilliant,” Will said happily. He let go of her and fished in his pocket, pulling out a couple of bills that he handed to the driver, “Cheers, mate!”

“Thank you, sir,” the driver said with a nod. He caught her gaze in the rear view mirror, “Ma’am.”

“Thanks,” she said weakly. Will was already out of the car and she scrambled out after him, “Wait, you can’t be all cryptic and then just leave me like that. What the hell is going on?”

“I know you want to punch me in the face-” he squinted his eyes at her, “Nope, you’re ready to murder me on the spot. Just trust me, luv. Besides, it wouldn’t do to make a scene out here and bring ‘round those vultures we made a point of avoiding.”

“Fine,” she huffed, pushing past him. “But you’re so on my shit list right now.”

“I’m always on it, luv,” he said with a laugh.

The hotel was five star but the door that had been left open led to a not so pretty hallway. She’d worked plenty of shitty jobs to know what a service corridor looked like. There were several stacks of empty milk crates and egg cages lining the walls and from the delicious smells wafting towards her it wasn’t hard to figure out that they were near the kitchens. She turned back and gave Will an unimpressed look.

“It was this or the paps,” he said unapologetically. He pointed ahead of them, “That way and then the second right will get you to the lobby.”

“And where are you going?” She asked suspiciously.

“Got a mate that’s holdin’ a bottle of champagne for me that way-” he hitched his thumb to the left. “I’ll let him know you said thanks for sneakin’ you past those vultures.”

He strolled past her, with his hands in his pockets, whistling the damn Backstreet Boys song he’d been singing earlier. She was torn between wanting to strangle him or begrudgingly thank him. In the end she settled for glaring at his back and muttering obscenities until he turned a corner and disappeared from her sight.

Twenty minutes later she was finally holed up in her room, freshly showered and wrapped in one of the hotel’s fluffy robes with the bottle of champagne in her hand. All should have been well except for the litany of messages she had. Will’s wasn’t the most recent and she would have ignored it if he hadn’t said anything but she had a feeling that whatever he had sent her was the reason behind all the other texts and calls. Her thumb hovered over his message, calculating how much it was going to ruin her night if she ignored it, before she scoffed at herself and tapped on it.

Scarlet: whatever you do don’t kill the messenger ie me

There was a second message, which was a link to YouTube. She hesitated again, even more so with his ominous message. When she tapped on the link she felt a momentary flash of panic, nearly closing out the app, because she knew without a doubt that watching the video was going to destroy any semblance of finishing off the night on a high note.

Her panic quickly turned into longing and heartbreak at the sight of Killian on her phone screen. He was sitting with his guitar in a room she’d never seen before but knew without a doubt was from his place in Boston. If pressed she wouldn’t have been able to explain how she knew but from the small bits of decor she could make out in the background and his sense of ease in the space were big clues. Her attention was drawn back to him as he cleared his throat and addressed the camera.

“Er, hello all,” he began sheepishly, his fingers nervously scratching behind his ear as the tips of his ears turned pink. His hair was in disarray and there were slight shadows under his eyes but he looked good, she would have even said great if there had been anyone around to ask her. He gave a rueful smile, “I’ve never done one of these, honestly never thought I would seeing as I seemed to have missed the metaphorical boat with this whole video blogging thing-”

Emma snorted in amusement despite herself and muttered, “It’s like he’s three hundred not thirty-three.”

“Aye, I may be belying my age but as you can see I’ve retained my youthful glow,” he said with a cheeky grin, his blue eyes sparkling with mirth.

The quip seemed to bolster him, the tension in his shoulders disappeared and he seemed to breathe easier, but it only lasted for a moment. His smile faded and he dropped his chin, his chest expanding as he took a deep breath. When he looked back to the camera the look in his eyes made her own breath catch in her throat.

“As many of my fans-” he paused and then gave a mirthless laugh, shaking his head, “Well, let’s be honest, a lot more than just my fans know my story. My exploits, my tragedies, missteps and extended stays in rehab are just cannon fodder for the gossip mongers that dwell on the internet. All of that led to my taking a much needed step back from the spotlight that’s lasted a good while. In that time I’ve continued to play, the creative soul in me would never stand for me not to, but I never thought I’d put pen to paper with the intention of writing a song ever again.

“The accident, yes that fucking accident, took more from me than just my brother and my love that night. It took the part of me that knew the right words to tease the desired emotion from an audience, how to hook them with a few notes and reel them in with lyrics that sprung from my heart and soul. Without that-” his voice cracked and he paused again, closing his eyes. After a few deep breaths he opened them, looking straight into the camera, his pain bare to see, “Without that it’s a wonder I didn’t drink myself to death within six months.”

Her phone screen went blurry and it wasn’t until a drop of water fell onto her hand that she realized she was crying. Impatiently brushing away the tears she focused back on the video.

He had begun idly picking at the strings of the guitar, “Getting sober was the first step to getting my life back. One of many. It’s been a hard road and every day is a struggle in one way or another but it’s a battle I’m willing to fight. My life, quite literally, depends on it. Next was getting serious about playing music again. I’ve spent the past few years not doing much more than recording backing tracks for what seems like every artist under the sun. I was in a rut and my agent convinced me that it was a sign that it was time to return to the recording booth. This time as the headliner, as it were. With no true argument against it I agreed, thinking that if anything I would enjoy a middling solo career out of it. What I hadn’t counted on was it leading to something that would turn my middling life upside down in the most unexpected of ways.

“You see, I had thought that I would be hoisted off on a producer and bundled to a cabin to write as many songs as possible before being shepherded back to a recording booth. Handled but not inspired. Before that could happen, though, another much more appealing opportunity presented itself.. A friend called needing a favor. One that my agent and the label approved of, though I would have done it regardless”

His finger picking continued as a wistful smile played at his lips. She couldn’t figure out what he was playing. It seemed somewhat familiar but his playing was too slow for her to catch the tune.

“In doing this favor I met someone-” he focused on the camera and gave a slight shake of his head, “You know, I never thought I’d be capable of letting go of my first love, of my Milah... to believe that I could find someone else... until I met her.”

Emma nearly dropped her phone in shock.

“For the first time since I thought I’d lost everything I felt like there was a possibility for me to find it all again. I found myself wanting- no, needing, to write again. I think I filled the first notebook within a week. She inspired me in a way I hadn’t been before. Then, I was privileged enough to become a part of her life.

“Unfortunately even before we met I had decided that there was no need to share with her what was to be a fairly big change in my life. I figured, why tell her about making a return to music when I hadn’t truly wanted it to happen in the first place?” he scoffed. He stopped playing, clenching his hand into a fist, “It was a selfish decision on my part, wanting to bask in the simplicity of what we had for as long as possible before I had to give myself over to the machinations of creating an album. What I failed so spectacularly at was considering her feelings, her expectations and hopes as to what we could be. By omitting that truth from the beginning and trying to shield her from it, even believing that I was doing the honorable thing, hurt her far more than telling her from the start.”

She could see the frustration and self loathing in his gaze. It made her want to soothe him and shake him at the same time.

He blinked, seemingly remembering that he was being filmed and gave a brittle smile to the camera, “It should come as no surprise that it all came ‘round to bite me in the arse. I’ll admit that I spent a good amount of time as the living embodiment of a Morrisey album. Listened to a few of them ad nauseum to boot. It took a good friend knocking some sense into me and a few words of advice Liam had given me long ago: ‘A man unwilling to fight for what he wants deserves what he gets’.

“I deserve every second of her silence, every ounce of her anger, and I will respect her decision regarding us, whatever it may be, but I have one final plea to make. She may never see this, the bloody idiot that told me to do this will also be editing this and might cut this all out, but I’ve laid myself bare so that she perhaps might come to understand why I’d done the things that hurt her so.

“Sw-” he cut himself off, looking down as his jaw ticked in frustration before he took a breath and looked back to the camera, his gaze sincere and open, “Love, I’m sorry for lying to you. I’m sorry for making you feel used and unimportant and as though you were dupe in a scheme designed to benefit everyone but yourself. It was never my intention to make you feel that way but my actions and my lies did so all the same. I’m sorry, love, for everything.”

Her tears were falling freely but she made no move to brush them away. They were too quick and numerous for her to bother. In the video Killian had started playing his guitar again, his fingers plucking out the notes of a tune she still couldn’t place but that he seemed to know very well.

“I wrote this after an eye opening night in Chicago. This is my truth, love, it was then and it is now.”

With that he began to play in earnest. She could hear echoes of the songs he’d written with Milah and Liam, a distinctive style that even the chasm of a decade couldn’t erase. There was something more to it though, a longing in his voice she’d never heard before but it was far from melancholic, she could almost feel a wellspring of hope bubbling within it. Then she actually listened to the lyrics he was singing.

And all of the steps that led me to you

And all of the hell I had to walk through

But I wouldn't trade a day for the chance to say

My love, I'm in love with you

The phone tumbled from Emma’s suddenly numb fingers. The video kept playing but the audio was muffled in the folds of her robe. Scrambling to pick it back up and muttering curses while desperately trying to hear the rest of the song she fumbled with the phone for what felt like minutes before it was back in her hand and facing the right way. With a shaking finger she scrolled back until the point where he started to play and began watching again. When he played the final note she scrolled back and watched it again. After the fourth time she let the video keep playing, though she could barely focus on it through the sobs she was holding back.

Killian gave the camera a pained smile, his hands folded over his guitar. He seemed on the verge of saying something and she held her breath. Instead he shook his head and leaned forward, reaching towards the camera. The video ended there, an emotionless black screen with links to a few of the more popular music videos that Realm of Jewels had made. Emma sat staring at the thumbnails in a stupor, her mind whirring with too many thoughts to even begin to process what she was feeling. It was only when her screen went dark from inactivity that she made a decision. Unlocking her phone she brought up her contacts and tapped on the name of the person she’d been avoiding talking to for days. They picked up on the second ring.

“I know it’s late but I need a favor.”

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