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harry-on-broadway · 2 years ago

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The Last Line: Part Three

Part Three

Word Count: 10K || Series Masterlist || Rating: M

A/N: I actually managed to keep my promise and post when I said I would 😅 But seriously, thank you to everyone who has hung around waiting for the update. I hope you like it and would LOVE to hear what you think!

***

Bzzz. Bzzz. Bzzz.

“Are you going to get that?” Chloe asked pointedly, eyeing Penny’s phone as it vibrated on her desk.

“I’m sorry, is it bothering you?” Penny replied cheekily.

“Yes, but only because I want to know who has been texting you.”

Penny picked up her phone and looked at the screen. Four text messages from Harry. “Just a source,” she said. “I think I might have a lead on a new feature, so I’ve been trying to build a relationship with them.” That was kind of the truth wasn’t it?

“Uh huh,” Chloe said, twirling a pen between her fingers. “And does this source’s name rhyme with Barry Tiles?”

“Shhhh!”

“I knew it!”

The two women stared at each other over the partition that separated their desks, as Penny steeled herself for the barrage of questions Chloe was sure to hurl at her. “You want to take a walk? Get a coffee?” Chloe asked, clearly opting for discretion now that she had gotten what she was looking for from Penny.

“Yes, but you’re buying.”

“Deal.”

When their lattes were in their hands, Penny and Chloe began their slow and strategic walk around the office park, following a carefully planned route that they knew put them out of earshot of nosy coworkers.

“So when did this happen?” Chloe asked.

“Umm…” Penny searched for an answer. “Like a couple of weeks ago, I think? We got drinks after that concert we went to.”

“Yeah, you mentioned that but not the fact that he’s suddenly your new best friend.”

“You know he’s not my best friend. I could never take that title away from you.”

“I appreciate that but that doesn’t explain why you didn’t tell me about him.”

“I didn’t say anything because this just kind of…happened,” Penny said.

And it had. She thought about the way she had texted him when she’d gotten home from their post-show drinks. And how he’d replied. And how when she’d woken up the next morning he’d sent her another message, this one containing a link to a country song that she hadn’t heard before. She thought about how she listened to the song on repeat while she made her coffee and got ready for work, crafting the perfect response in her head as she tapped her fingers to the beat. She thought about how Harry had texted her daily since that night. And, each time she added to her notes on whatever it was Harry was working on, she tried to suppress the feelings of guilt that brewed deep inside.

“Like hell it ‘just happened.’” Chloe tried to make air quotes around the coffee cup in her hands. “It wasn’t that long ago that I thought I’d have to be a character witness at trial for you.”

“Ha ha, but I swear! We just had a drink and talked and things progressed from there.”

“Where’d you take him?”

“Seventy7.”

“Your date spot?”

“My source meeting spot.” Penny took a sip of her coffee.

“So, he’s a source? What are you cooking up?”

Penny looked around, making sure they were far away from anyone who might be eavesdropping on their conversation. “He has a new album coming out sometime this year. Tom told me and so did Harry. And I was thinking, maybe if I got a scoop on it, it would impress Darren and would give me a better shot at landing some stories.”

“I’m sorry,” Chloe said. “But in what world is this a good idea? Did you miss the ethics class freshman year? You know the one about unbiased reporting? Keeping friends and family out of stories? Do you recall any of that? Or were you too hypnotized by his ravishing good looks during your date that all rational thought left your head?”

“He’s neither friend nor family and it wasn’t a date. It was networking. A source meeting. You have those all the time.”

“Yeah, at premieres where I’m talking to 50 year-old men I most certainly don’t want to fuck.”

“I don’t want to fuck Harry.”

“OK, that was great,” Chloe said. “Let’s take that once more though, and this time make me believe you actually believe what you’re saying.”

“I don’t want to fuck him,” Penny said definitively.

Chloe held her gaze waiting for her friend to break. “Well all right then we’ve settled it.” Penny’s phone buzzed again. “What’s your ‘source’ want now?”

Penny unlocked her phone, angling the screen so Chloe could see the four texts Harry had sent.

Hey. How’re you?

I’m in the studio today so I’m on your side of town. Might be stopping by the office to talk to Jeff about something too.

Been listening to this today. Have you heard of it?

Um, any chance you want to grab a drink? Maybe dinner?

“Do you usually get dinner with sources?” Chloe asked with a grin.

“First time for everything,” Penny said, replying to Harry’s message.

Yeah, maybe tomorrow?

His reply came back fast. How’s tonight?

“Someone’s eager,” Chloe laughed.

“What’s wrong with that? Maybe I’ll get what I need.” After confirming the time and location, Penny slid her phone into her bag. “Now where were we?”

“You were profusely denying your attraction to Harry. Unbelievably, I might add.”

“Chlo, I don’t know how many times I can say this…I’m simply tolerating him to get something from him.”

“This is the part in the rom com where the sassy best friend tells the plucky protagonist that she’s making a mistake because she’s going to develop real feelings.”

“And this is the part in the rom com where I go back to my desk and actually get some work done.”

Penny spun on her heel and started back towards the office, leaving Chloe to catch up behind her. Penny spent the rest of the afternoon bouncing between edits to a listicle about “10 Songs You Didn’t Realize Were Turning 10 in 2019” and making a list of things she wanted to ask Harry that night. How far along was the album? Was he close to announcing a release date? A single? Were the songs he’d been sending her any indication of what his new tracks would sound like? A few minutes before five, she slammed her laptop shut, tossing it into the canvas tote that doubled as her purse and work bag these days.

“See you tomorrow,” she called to Chloe and Devon, one of their graphic designers. Devon waved, quickly turning his attention back to his monitor, while Chloe spun in her chair.

“Make good choices tonight,” she called with a sly wink. “Don’t get into too much trouble.”

“You’ll be my one call if I do,” Penny called cheerfully over her shoulder, as Chloe’s laugh echoed through the mostly empty newsroom.

Penny pulled out of the parking garage, cruising through the streets to the restaurant Harry had texted her. It was a bit further out than she usually traveled during the week, but when she looked on the map, it looked like it was midway between her neighborhood and his. Neutral territory. She drummed along to the song on the radio – something by Justin Timberlake – as she waited for the light to turn, catching a glimpse of herself in the rearview mirror. Several strands of hair had escaped from her ponytail and she had a smudge of eyeliner under her left eye.

Ugh. This was not how she wanted to show up to dinner. Eyeing the light and the number of cars in front of her, she shook out her hair, retying it into something slightly neater before rubbing at the smudge under her eye. That looked better, right? She continued to stare at her reflection. What was missing? Lipstick? She thought she had one that wasn’t too old in her bag. After one more glance at the light, she rooted through her tote until she found a neutral coral color that wouldn’t look too out of place on her face. She was just about to apply it to her lips when the car behind her laid on their horn.

“OK, sorry. I’m going!” she cried out to no one in particular. Lipstick would have to wait. But as she made the final turns of her journey and pulled into the parking lot, she couldn’t help but wonder why she felt the need to get dressed up for Harry. This was essentially a business meeting. She gave one final glance at the lipstick that was now on her passenger seat and decided to forgo it. Source meeting, business dinner, not a date. She locked her car and made her way inside. Harry had texted her that he was already there at a table in the back, a message she relayed to the host at the lobby of the restaurant.

“Party name?” he asked.

“Ugh…” She stumbled over her words. “Harry Styles,” she whispered, unsure if she was breaking some unspoken rule by saying his full name aloud.

The host smiled knowingly. “Right through here. You’ll see him seated towards the back. Have a nice evening.”

“Thanks, you too!” Penny said, walking through the curtain that separated the dining room from the lobby.

Her eyes swept over the room, adjusting to the dim lighting as she looked for Harry, finding him on a second glance. He lifted his hand and waved gently, a soft smile on his face. She strode briskly to the table, and he stood as she approached.

“Hey,” he said when she was within earshot. “You look nice.”

Penny looked down at her worn jeans, t-shirt, and blazer. “Thanks?”

“Shit, that was weird,” Harry said with a laugh.

“No. Hey, I’ll take it. You look��nice…too.” It wasn’t a lie. Harry would look fantastic wearing anything in any situation, but there was something about him that was different from the last time she’d seen him. He looked tired. Stressed. “How have you been?” she asked, trying to change the subject.

“Good, good. Staying busy, lots going on,” Harry said, returning to his seat once Penny had sat down. “Been spending some long days in the studio which is…great, but also tiring.”

“I can imagine.”

“You?”

“Oh, pretty similar actually. Not that I’m in a studio, but just a lot of work stuff. They haven’t hired a new news writer yet so I’m kind of doing the work of two people right now, and then there’s a lot of late nights with concerts and stuff and oh my God I should stop talking.” She laughed nervously.

“No, you’re good,” Harry said with a chuckle. “See anyone cool lately.”

“I saw John Legend last week, and I’m seeing a jazz ensemble tomorrow.”

“Sick.”

“Yeah.”

An awkward pause fell over the table as Harry sipped his water and Penny fidgeted with the silverware in front of her. Mercifully, a waiter appeared to take their drink orders.

“I’ll do the Moscato,” Harry said after perusing the wine menu.

“Oh, that sounds good. I’ll have some as well,” Penny said, returning her own menu.

“Should I bring a bottle for the table?” the waiter asked.

“Uh, sure,” Harry said. “Is that OK?” He looked at Penny who just nodded. “The bottle would be great, thanks.”

The waiter disappeared and returned shortly, pouring their wine and taking their dinner orders, before leaving them alone. Silence once again filled the space between them.

“So what did you want to talk about?” Penny asked at the same time Harry asked if she had listened to the song he’d sent her. They both laughed.

“I just thought we could catch up. Make good on that promise of ‘next time,’” he said, swirling the wine in his glass.

“Oh yeah,” Penny took a sip of her own wine. “You said you’d been getting lots of studio time in. I assume the new project is coming along nicely.”

“It’s certainly coming along. I’m not sure about nicely.”

“Why not?”

Harry let out a long breath. “Things aren’t going as easily as I hoped. I feel like everything I’ve written in the past couple of weeks has been shit.”

“Well, I’m sure that’s a lie.”

“I don’t know. If you heard what I finished before I came here you might think differently.”

“You write with others, right?” Penny asked.

Harry nodded. “Yeah, Tom, Tyler, Mitch. That’s the usual crew.”

“Good group. I’m not super familiar with Mitch’s work, but I’m sure he’s top tier if you’re working with him.”

“I’m not sure if that’s a compliment for me or Mitch, but I’ll accept it regardless.”

Penny thought about shooting back a “Why would I compliment you?” but seeing how drained Harry looked, she refrained. “Is there something in particular that’s holding you up?”

“Well, I did some writing while I was touring, and then did a lot of writing earlier this year when I was in Japan. But I still don’t feel like the album’s done. It’s like the secret ingredient is missing or something. But sometimes I feel like I’m the only person that feels that way and that everyone else just wants to wrap it up to get it out there.”

“You have to listen to your gut then,” Penny said without hesitation.

“Easier said than done.”

“No, seriously if you think something is missing, I think you have to hone in on that feeling. Really listen to what your heart and your gut are telling you. Only you know what your album needs to be. Collaboration is great and it clearly works when you have the right group of people together, but when you start letting everyone’s voice in the room, that’s when things start to feel inauthentic. And there’s nothing worse than listening to an album where you know it’s not what the artist fully believes.”

“You can tell?” Harry said, somewhat surprised.

“Well, it’s not like I know everyone personally,” Penny began. “But it’s just a feeling you get when you’ve listened to a lot of stuff. Artists have their signature, and it’s always there even when they start experimenting. Like let’s use Rihanna as an example. If she suddenly started writing about the good life on the farm and drinking beer on the porch with her dog, it would just feel weird, like a label pushing her to replicate the hot new country song. But good artists don’t need to follow the trends, they set them.”

Harry nodded, which Penny took as a sign to continue. “Like for example, your first album.” She took a breath knowing she was potentially treading on thin ice. “It really set the standard for your sound as a solo artist. It’s an album that is clearly very modern, but very heavily influenced by 60s and 70s rock. So, people know to expect that from you. You’re the guy that makes vintage modern and cool. But, perhaps that album was a little too cookie cutter, which I think you know. So this time around, maybe you needed to take a couple of risks, make an album that shows the world who Harry really is. Each album is an opportunity to change the trajectory of your career and I think you should act on it.” Harry stared at her, speechless. “Sorry, if I overstepped,” she said.

“No no, you didn’t,” he said. “Fuck that was exactly what I needed to hear.” He ran his hands over his face. “It’s just that even when I try to insulate myself from the noise, it leaks through. Comments about sales and singles and streaming and charting and all of this stuff that will really determine if I get to keep doing this. And it just makes me get so caught up in my head…” he trailed off.

“I do the same thing sometimes,” Penny replied. “I just get so focused on if this article will get more clicks than the last one, or if it will get good traction on social and help me ‘build my brand.’ I just forget why I do this job.”

Harry nodded. “It can be easy to lose that reason why.”

Their waiter used the break in the conversation to deliver their food, and Penny tucked into her chicken parm, savoring the dish that was a massive step up from her usual combo of a pre-packaged salad and Easy Mac.

“About those songs, you sent me,” Penny began.

“Oh! Did you like them?”

“Surprisingly, yes.”

“Surprisingly?”

“Yeah, I'm admittedly not the biggest country fan,” Penny said. “And to be honest, I’m pretty surprised you're into that kind of music.”

“Oh, I love it,” Harry said, leaning closer and speaking faster. “Country artists are hands down the best at telling a story in a song. I’d like to be able to do that one day. You know, write about an experience that isn’t mine? Or at least tell a story of my own.”

“You’re well on your way to doing that.”

Harry flushed but ignored the remark. “I, uh, liked the playlist you sent me. I’ve been listening to it in the mornings.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Like I’ve heard almost all of the songs before, but not in that way. They tell a different story when you listen to them back-to-back like that.”

“Oh, well thanks. I’ve always prided myself on making good playlists.”

“If you have another, send it my way,” Harry said, taking a bite of his pasta. “I’d love to hear more of what you’ve put together.”

“Well, I’ll have to send you my ‘Bad Bitch’ playlist that I listen to ahead of meetings with my editor.”

“Please.”

She had meant it as a joke, but Harry clearly didn’t take it that way. “Oh yeah, I’ll send it now.” She picked up her phone and sent him the link. “Enjoy. I hope you’re able to find your inner bad bitch.”

“I’ll keep you updated on my progress.”

When the waiter dropped the check on the table, Harry swiftly collected it, placing his card in the leather holder, ignoring Penny’s protests.

“I’m the one who invited you,” he said. “It’s only fair that I pay.”

Penny chewed on her lip. It was basic ethics that journalists didn’t accept gifts from sources. You always paid and kept your fingers crossed that your publication would reimburse you. “I can’t let you.”

“Why not?”

“Because…” What was she supposed to say? I accepted your invite because I wanted to hear about your album? I want to use you for my own personal gains? “Because it’s 2019 and women can pay for themselves.”

“Tell you what, you pay for me next time?”

“You and these next times,” Penny said with a laugh. “Always asking for more.”

“I just thought you were having fun and I was –”

“Harry, I’m kidding. It would be great to see you again. You’re actually pleasant to be around when you’re not acting like an asshole.”

“Two compliments in one night? I should buy you dinner more often!”

“I think that will be the next next time.”

Harry laughed and Penny noticed how when he found something funny, really truly funny, the skin around his eyes crinkled as his dimples deepened. She felt a rush of pride knowing she brought that out in him.

Harry’s phone chirped and the dimples and crinkles disappeared as he looked down at the incoming message. “I guess I should be going. Duty calls.”

“Heading back to the studio?”

“Yeah…” The lightness had disappeared from him.

“I know it’s easy for me, the person that will be critiquing your album, to say, but just write what you feel, Harry. You can’t go wrong with that.”

“I’ll try my best,” he said. “Thanks for coming tonight.”

Penny rose from the table and Harry followed her to the exit. “Have a great rest of your night,” she said, unlocking her car.

“Yeah, you too,” Harry said, swaying on his feet. “I’ll uh, see you later?”

“Definitely! I think I’m free on Wednesday. I’ll text you.”

Harry smiled, and Penny felt warm inside, and marveled at how he could make her feel so good with just one gesture. “I’m looking forward to that,” he said. “Drive safe.”

As she drove home, Penny listened to the songs Harry had sent her over the week, really paying attention to the lyrics and the stories Harry had been talking about. He was right. They were some of the best she’d heard.

It wasn’t until Penny pulled into her parking spot in front of her building that she realized she didn’t get answers to any of her questions.

***

Harry took the quickest route to the studio from the restaurant, opening the voice notes app on his phone when he was stopped at a red light. He spoke quickly, tripping over his words, wanting to make sure he captured everything he was feeling in the moment. When he reached the studio, he rushed in, nearly bumping into Tyler as he turned the corner.

“Wasn’t expecting you to come back tonight, H,” Tyler said.

“I wasn’t either but inspiration struck and…”

“No, I get it,” Tyler said. “Want to get to work?”

“Let’s do it.”

***

The next morning, Penny awoke to a message from Harry.

I think I’ve finally found my inner bad bitch. Thanks for all the help.

***

Over the next couple of weeks, Penny and Harry fell into a rhythm. He’d text her, usually at night when she was getting home from a gig, and they’d message back and forth until one of them fell asleep. They met up for impromptu drinks a few times and got coffee a couple of others. Their outings were usually initiated by Harry, and Penny was more than happy to go along with his suggestions. She kept reminding herself that this was just for work, but she couldn’t deny how much she was enjoying their time together.

Penny had just left Darren’s office one Wednesday afternoon, clenching her hands so hard, she was sure her nails had drawn blood. He’d killed another one of her features, even after suggesting she write it, and everything felt pointless. She was back at her desk deciding what her next move would be – get coffee or cry in the bathroom – when her phone rang. Seeing Harry’s name on the caller ID, she answered almost immediately.

“Hey,” Harry said, his voice tinged with surprise.

“Hey.” Penny could hear the waver in her own voice.

“Is now a bad time?” Harry asked.

“No.”

“You sound…upset,” Harry said cautiously.

“Just a typical day here.”

“Would you have time to take a break? Maybe get a coffee? I’m at Full Stop today.”

Penny looked at her watch. She had time to spare and the way things had been going lately, Harry might be the perfect way to improve her mood. “Sure. I can meet you at Blue Bottle in like 10 minutes.”

“See you there.”

Penny ended the call and grabbed her wallet. “I’ll be back later,” she said to Chloe. Blue Bottle was just a quick walk from her office and she stood outside the coffee shop, rocking back and forth on her heels until she saw Harry approach.

“Hey,” he said, his eyes searching her for obvious signs of distress. “I’m glad you were able to sneak away.”

“Yeah, I needed the break.” Penny gestured to the register inside. “Want to order now?”

Harry nodded and followed Penny inside, ordering an iced Americano after she’d asked for a vanilla latte.

“This was supposed to be my treat,” Harry said as Penny inserted her card into the machine to pay. “I invited you.”

“Next time’s on you,” Penny said with a tight grin, moving off to the side to wait for their drinks, handing Harry a straw.

“So…” Harry said, picking the paper straw wrapper. “Are we going to talk about whatever’s happening here?”

“What? Nothing’s going on.”

“It’s just, you sounded upset on the phone,” Harry said. “And now you just look kind of sad. Stressed.”

“Gee thanks.”

“I didn’t mean that as a bad thing. I was just worried that something was going on.”

Penny looked up to meet Harry’s eyes. It was truly touching how concerned he was, but it also felt monumental. Like whatever she said in response would change the course of whatever was happening between them. “Thanks,” she said after a moment. “It’s just been a rough day at work after a string of rough days.”

“Want to talk about them?”

Penny sighed. “It’s my editor.”

Harry nodded. “I remember you talking about him. He’s the one that keeps shitting on your ideas.”

Penny whipped around to look at him again. “You remember?”

“Yeah, because I thought he sounded like a dick from what you told me.”

“Well, I can confirm that he is. And what he’s been doing recently is instead of letting me pitch stories, he’s assigning me his own pitches, and then even after I follow every single one of his stupid-ass rules, he still kills the story. Now, some of my sources are starting to get cagey since they don’t love sitting down for a call for an article that never materializes and I just feel like a terrible writer and it’s just hard. I feel like I’m stuck and that I’ll never get out.” She looked at Harry “Well, that’s what’s new with me. How about you?” She laughed nervously, aware she’d just spilled her guts to the man who was her mortal enemy mere weeks ago.

“I’m really sorry you’re having to deal with this,” Harry said.

“I know it’s something everyone in a creative field goes through since art is so subjective but it’s just really tough when it feels like you’re the only one experiencing it.”

“Could I read it?”

“What?”

“Your story. The one Darren just killed,” Harry prompted.

“I don’t think you’d be interested. It’s really boring about music licensing and copyright law.”

“I don’t know. I’m a musician. I have songs. Feels pretty applicable.”

Penny sighed. “I’m just -”

“Trying to come up with another excuse?”

“Fine.” Penny unlocked her phone and opened the Google Docs app, navigating to the doc with the story she’d filed earlier that day. “Here,” she said, handing Harry her phone and walking away.

“Woah, where are you going?”

“I’m not going to stand here and watch you read my article. That’s just a form of cruel and unusual punishment. I’m going to wait over there.”

“No you’re not.” Harry grabbed Penny’s hand and pulled her back to his side, not letting go of her hand, even when she was standing next to him.

Penny froze. Harry didn’t appear to register what he was doing as he bowed his head and started to read the screen on the phone he held in his other hand. She stood there, next to him, watching as he read her work. The crinkle that emerged between his eyebrows as he focused, the way his mouth moved as he scanned the page, the way he nodded when he came across certain phrases.

“Latte and Americano for Penny,” the barista called.

Penny cleared her throat. “I should get those,” she said softly.

Harry looked down at the hands. “Oh, right, sorry. Didn’t mean to hold on like that.”

Penny fetched their drinks and when she returned, Harry had migrated to a small table in the corner where he finished reading the article. She didn’t want to fish for compliments, but was curious about what he thought. “Sooo,” she said, handing him the cup.

“I don’t know who your editor is but he’s an idiot for not publishing this. I heard a couple of people at Columbia discussing this last week. People would want to read this.”

“Maybe I should bring you back to the office to see if Darren will listen to you.”

“I am free for a couple more hours.”

Penny grinned. “Thanks. For…everything.”

“No, thanks needed, You’re a fantastic writer, Penny.”

“I wish Darren believed that. Hell, I wish I believed that.”

“Artists are always the most critical of themselves,” Harry said thoughtfully.

“Do you know that from personal experience?”

Harry let out a long sigh and nodded. “It has been a week.”

“Making any progress?” Penny asked, trying to sound casual.

“Kind of. But the label is asking for something that’s more radio friendly and I just don’t want to give it to them. Probably because I don’t know how to give it to them,” he added under his breath.

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out. You’ve got a good team. You’re…smart.”

Harry laughed. “You don’t sound so sure about that.”

“No, I didn’t mean it like that,” Penny said. “You just have like good music sense. It’s something that can’t be taught.” Harry stared at her blankly. “What? Did I say something wrong?” she asked.

“No.” He shook his head. “I’m just trying to remember when you started being so nice to me.”

“Shut up! You’re so stupid,” Penny said, flicking her straw wrapper at him.

“Shut up!” Harry shot back, mocking her tone as flicked the paper back towards her.

The two giggled, shooting the paper back and forth until Harry put a little too much muscle into it, causing the paper to land on the back of the woman behind Penny.

“So athletics aren’t your strong suit?” she teased.

“I don’t know about that.”

“Penny?”

Penny turned around and came face to face with Darren. Was no place safe? “H-h-hi,” she spluttered. “I was just taking a break. I’ll be back at the office soon.”

“Oh no worries,” Darren said smoothly. “I can tell you’re busy.” He eyed Harry. “Nice to meet you.”

“Yeah, pleasure,” Harry said, extending his hand for a handshake that Darren reciprocated. “I’m Harry.”

Darren nodded, not bothering to reciprocate the introduction. “Well, I’ll see you at the office, Penny.”

“Mhmm, talk soon.” Penny waited until she was sure Darren had left the coffee shop before turning back to Harry. “Fuck, I didn’t think he’d come here. He usually hates anything that brings people joy.”

“Was that weird? That was weird,” Harry said.

“It was.” Penny hadn’t been able to interpret what Darren had been thinking when he walked over there, but she didn’t think she’d be able to pretend like it hadn’t happened when she eventually made her way back to the newsroom.

“I think you could take him though,” Harry said.

“Excuse me?”

“I think you could beat him in a fight. Especially if it was a war of words.”

“Well, we’ve had a couple of those and they typically end with me hiding somewhere to cry.” Harry didn’t say anything and just stared at Penny with an indiscernible expression on his face. “But you didn’t need to know that…” she trailed off.

“You’re good at your job, Penny. Don’t let anyone try to convince you you’re not.”

“Thanks? Not sure if I believe that coming from the guy who bullied me over my writing a couple of weeks ago, but I’ll keep that in my back pocket.” Harry shook his head. “What?” Penny pressed.

“I’m always going to feel terrible about the way I treated you,” Harry said. “It had nothing to do with you, though. It was all about me.”

“Oh?”

“What bothered me was that everything you said was true. In that review you were just pointing out things that were painfully obvious. I just had my head so far up my own ass I couldn’t see. And when I read your words, I just felt so vulnerable. Like if you noticed how guarded and cheap that album was, how many other people did too? I put everything into that it. What if that’s the best I have to offer? What if I never do anything better than that? Do you know what it feels like to question your worth and purpose like that every fucking day?”

“Of course I do. My job is to share my opinions online only to get yelled at by trolls on Twitter who think my being a woman means I don’t have a brain. Or feelings. Each day when I walk into work I have to brace myself for whatever shit Darren is going to throw at me. I have to watch men who know fuck all get chances that I deserve and anytime I try to do anything about it, I’m the one who gets punished. It’s exhausting and stresses me out more than it should, but if I woke up tomorrow and couldn’t do that, I’d be lost. It’s sadistic, but I think you know exactly what I mean.”

Harry blinked slowly. “I do,” he said after a moment. “I don’t think anyone has ever described it like that before, but that’s exactly it.”

They finished their drinks while checking their phones and it wasn’t lost on Penny how even sitting in silence with Harry felt comfortable, like they were old friends. She could have sat with him like that forever, but eventually Harry sighed, signaling the end of their time together.

“I probably need to be getting back,” he said. His face looked drawn and Penny couldn’t tell what had changed.

“Yeah, I should get back too.”

“I’ll walk you over.”

Penny got up and pushed in her chair as Harry disposed of their cups and wrappers. He met her at the door and held it open, walking alongside her when they were out on the sidewalk.

“Are you going back to the studio?” Penny asked. “Or is this a business day?”

“The studio. Hopefully things will fall together soon.”

“Well, break a leg? Good luck? I’m not sure what recording studio protocol is.”

“Any of those will work.” Harry glanced over at her. “Um, I’m assuming you’re back to work.”

“Yeah, not really sure what I’m going to work on for the rest of the day, but I’ll find something.”

“Try not to think about Darren. I mean it.”

“Well you can’t think about the studio execs when you write.”

“Deal.” Harry stopped outside Penny’s office as she pulled her ID from her pocket. “I’ll see you later.” He put his hand on her shoulder and then paused, as if it was a step too far. “Text me or something?”

Penny reached up and covered his hand with hers. “Definitely. Maybe we could do dinner sometime this week if you’re in the area.”

“Yeah, I’ll be around.”

“Great.” Harry’s hand was still on her shoulder as she awkwardly shifted towards the door. “Have a great rest of your day,” Penny said softly.

“You too,” Harry mumbled, breathless as he watched her walk inside.

***

Penny hadn’t been at her desk for more than a minute when Darren strode out of his office straight for her desk. “Fuck,” she mumbled under her breath. She looked around, hoping that someone would be around to diffuse the conversation, but the newsroom was surprisingly empty.

“Penny,” Darren began, voice echoing in the empty room.

“Yes?”

“I didn’t realize you knew Harry Styles?”

“Um, that’s a recent connection. We have a mutual friend.”

“Very cool.” Darren sat on the edge of Chloe’s desk, clicking the pen in his hand. “Learn anything from him?” he asked, attempting to sound casual.

“Not really. Like I said, I only met him recently.”

“That’s a shame. Any scoop from him could be big. Keep an ear out.”

“Um, sure,” Penny said.

“Keep me in the loop on any developments.”

Penny would rather chew glass than keep Darren “in the loop” but she just nodded pleasantly, hoping her agreement would make him go away. “Will do,” she said.

“Great!” Darren hopped off of the desk and headed back to his office, nearly bumping into Chloe as she walked in, coffee and pastry in hand.

“What was that about?” Chloe asked. She wiped off the edge of her desk when she was sure Darren’s door was closed.

“So, Darren ran into me and Harry while we were getting coffee.”

“Ooh, tell me more.”

“He started pumping me for info on Harry–”

“No!” Chloe whined. “Not about Darren, about Harry. I didn’t know you all were meeting up.”

“It was an impromptu thing. He was in the area and I needed a breather.”

“And Darren saw you?”

“Yes, and I think he wants me to leverage my…knowledge…of Harry to get a scoop on something.” Penny chewed on her lip. “I feel conflicted.”

“Babe, that’s exactly what you’ve been planning this whole time! I told you it was a bad idea then and I still think it’s a bad idea. You really think any idea Darren has is a good one?” She said his name in a tone usually reserved for dog shit.

“I know, I know,” Penny moaned. “But I’m just kind of torn because getting anything on him would be great for me but it would ruin our -”

“Burgeoning love affair?” Chloe cut her off.

“No, our friendship or whatever the hell it is.”

“Pen, I think you know what the right move is here. So I’m not going to tell you. You’re better than this and you are smarter than this. Don’t be a Darren!”

Penny clicked the cap on and off of the pen as she thought about Chloe’s words. “There has to be a way I can do the best of both worlds. I mean, critics and journalists hang out with the subjects of their writing all of the time. I can make this work.”

“I will make sure not to tell you ‘told you so’ when this blows up in your face.”

“That’s why you’re my best friend.” They sat at their respective desks and worked until it was closing time. Penny said goodbye and headed to her car. As she stepped outside of the building, she impulsively turned left, taking the circuitous route that would take her in front of Full Stop’s office. As she approached the building, she squinted looking in the windows. She didn’t know what she was hoping to find but she felt an extreme sense of disappointment when she didn’t see Harry.

She finished her walk to the garage, climbing in her car and turning the radio on first thing. As she drove home, her mind wandered – to Darren, to her brother’s upcoming birthday (she still needed to find a card), to Chloe’s annual film festival – but her thoughts were mainly occupied by Harry. What was he doing at this moment? Was he still at the studio? Was he out with friends?

Her phone chimed as she pulled into her parking space. It was a text from Harry. A link to a song. She smiled as she put her headphones on to listen.

***

Are you busy?

Three little words and her heart started racing.

It had been a few days since her impromptu coffee with Harry, they’d talked even more than usual. Penny woke up to texts from Harry – songs, random musings, once, a funny YouTube video – and his messages were also what lulled her to sleep. She wasn’t sure what to call this new stage, but felt that friendship was a good start.

Penny counted to twenty before responding. Not really. What do you need?

She could see him typing in the message thread.

I’m working today and am a little stuck on something. I wanted to get your advice. A voice note followed the message. Take a listen and let me know what you think.

Penny’s phone burned hot in her hand with the knowledge of what that message contained. She rose from her desk, searched for her earbuds and rushed off to find a quiet spot in the office to listen to the note. In the dim hallway that led the kitchen, she pushed her earbuds in and turned up the volume before pressing play.

It was an unfinished demo, but despite the rough nature of the recording, she could tell this song was something special. It started off with a strong drum section before Harry’s vocals came in. His higher register, smoother than ever. She closed her eyes, Even with shitty discount earbuds she could feel the beat pulsing, throbbing, echoing within her. It was magic. When it finished playing, she hit play again, focusing on the lyrics this time through. Phrases about shining, stepping into the light, recurred throughout, and while it was beyond her to speculate the meaning of the lyrics, they felt deeply personal. The kind of personal that everyone could relate to. The hallmark of a good song.

She listened a third time for good measure before typing out her response. Initial reaction, I love it. On more listens, it feels like the bass and drums might be a little too much. There’s an intimacy to this song and you don’t want to lose that. Find a way to balance the two and you’ve got a hit.

Harry’s reply came quickly. You’re exactly right! Thanks!

Any time.

“Penny?”

She looked up from her phone to see Darren in front of her, mug in hand, clearly on his way to get some of the paltry excuse for coffee kept in the kitchen.

“Yeah?”

“What are you doing?”

She searched her brain for a reason she’d be standing in a dark hallway with her headphones. “I was taking a call,” she finally said. “It was a little noisy in the main room and I just needed some quiet.”

“OK, well that’s what we have the call booths for. Keep that in mind.” Darren stared at her and Penny prayed he wouldn’t be able to sniff out the real reason she was there.

“I should go,” she said, dashing towards her desk.

“All good?” Chloe asked, taking in the panic on Penny’s phase.

“You-know-who almost caught me with a demo the other you-know-who sent me,” Penny said, voice low.

“Shit.”

“Yeah, it was a little too close for comfort.”

“Why?”

Penny turned around in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“Let’s think this through,” Chloe said. “Why are you so concerned about Darren finding out what you know?”

“Because it’s an ethics issue.”

“Why is it an ethics issue?”

“Because I know Harry. We’ve gotten drinks together.”

“OK, yes,” Chloe prompted. “But how is that any different from you getting drinks with Paul at a networking event and then quoting him in a piece? Or when you went to dinner with those investors that were funding that new streaming startup and then wrote a story?”

“It’s just different. My brother’s best friend didn’t introduce me to them.”

“But he did introduce you to Janice and you quoted her.”

“I-that’s not the same and you know it.”

“You want to know what I think?” Chloe asked.

“Not particularly.”

“I think that three weeks ago you thought this scheme was a great idea but then you actually spent time with Harry and now you care about him and you don’t want him to know you were using him and you also don’t want to risk your reputation.”

Penny scoffed. “You are so off base.”

“Am I? You haven’t looked me in the eye since you sat down and your hands are shaking. You’re lying and we both know it.”

“It’s not what you think,” Penny said. “I didn’t want Darren to know because if he gets ahold of the story he’ll probably kill it and I don’t want that to happen. I’m saving it for one of our editorial meetings so I can have Skylar there as backup.” She hoped the lie sounded more convincing than it felt.

“Sure,” Chloe said. “Do you want to get drinks after work tonight?” she asked, smartly changing the subject.

Penny nodded in agreement, but inside she was wondering why she was so scared to tell her best friend the truth.

***

Penny paced in her kitchen keeping an eye on her phone on the counter, willing it to light up with a new notification. It had been three days since Harry had shared his demo, forcing her to confront the emotions that had been brewing inside of her for the past few months.

She’d reached out a couple of times. First to ask how the rest of his studio session went, and then to share some more songs and music videos she liked. And when those went unanswered, she reached out again, asking if everything was OK only to be met with radio silence. She was fairly certain that nothing was wrong, but concern lurked in the back of her mind, and after a few more minutes of pacing, she grabbed her phone and keys and headed for her car.

She scrolled through her messages until she found Harry’s address which she programmed into her GPS. When she pulled up to the gate, she pressed the buzzer. Then hit it again. And again. And again. Finally, she heard Harry’s voice through the crackly speaker.

“Hello?” His voice sounded different than usual and she couldn’t be sure if it was because of the speaker or something else.

“Uh, it’s Penny. I hadn’t heard from you and was a little nervous since we were supposed to go to that show tonight?”

“Oh, fuck. Come on in.”

She heard a loud buzz and then the gates parted, allowing her to drive in. She glanced at the landscaping as she drove up the path. It was nice and well-maintained, definitely not by him, and she appreciated the views the property offered. She put the car in park in front of the garage. Harry was standing on the front stoop waiting for her.

“I’m so sorry,” he croaked, voice gravely even without the interference of the intercom. “I came down with this spring flu or something. I’ve been out of commission for a few days.”

“Don’t apologize. I was just worried.” Shit. That wasn’t what she meant to say. “Like just since we had these tickets. I wasn’t sure if you still wanted them or…”

“Yeah, of course. I honestly don’t think I’m up for a show tonight. I’m better, but still not 100%.”

“No, I get it.” Penny rocked back and forth on her feet. “Do you want some company?”

Harry paused. “What about the show?”

“One of my friends had been asking about the tickets. I can give them to her.” It felt wrong to go if Harry wasn’t there, not that she’d ever admit that to him.

“Uh, sure,” he said, scratching the back of his neck. “Come on in. It’s a little messy.”

Penny followed him inside, toeing off her shoes in the front hall. She padded behind Harry as he led her into a den. The large sectional was covered in pillows and blankets and he cleared a spot off on one side of the couch, making room for Penny.

“Make yourself at home,” Harry said, a sniffle punctuating his statement.

“Can I get you anything?” Penny asked.

“You're my guest. Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”

“But you’re sick.”

Harry shrugged. “There’s water, juice, beer, and wine in the kitchen. There might be some ginger ale left as well.”

“Ooh my favorite.”

“Help yourself. I’ll have one too.”

Penny grabbed a couple of cans from the fridge, trying not to gawk at the gourmet kitchen around her. “Ice?” she called over her shoulder.

“No thanks.”

She handed Harry one of the cans and they popped the tabs in synchronicity, grinning at their timing.

“Should we be drinking to your health?” Penny asked, before sipping from the can.

Harry grinned. “I can use any and all well wishes. This just knocked me out. I can’t remember the last time I was that sick.” He shuddered as if reliving a traumatic memory.

“It must have been pretty rough. I was worried about not hearing from you.” That was a normal thing to say, right? Penny was suddenly second guessing her words. “I mean just because we had the plans for the show,” she quickly explained.

“No, I apologize. I wasn’t really with it for a couple of days and was pretty useless. Thankfully I had some people looking out for me.”

At that moment, there was nothing Penny wanted to know more than who these people were. “That’s nice. I’m assuming Jeff stopped by?”

Harry nodded. “And Glenne. They brought me some soup and bread. Glenne is Jeff’s girlfriend,” he clarified.

“Oh.”

“And now you are stopping by. I’ve clearly got a village looking after me.”

“Um, yeah.” Penny didn’t know what was wrong with her. On the drive over, she’d been filled with thoughts of what she’d say when she saw Harry, but now that she was with him her mind was blank. “How does it work when you're sick? Like do you have to take a sick day?” What the fuck kind of question was that, she thought to herself. She took a sip of ginger ale.

“Uh, like not really. Sometimes I try to work through it but since we aren’t on a hard deadline I just tried to take it easy. Figured taking a few days off might also help me get in a better place creatively.” He stroked his chin. “Not sure that worked but I guess we’ll find out soon.”

Penny stared at Harry until she realized it was her turn to speak. “I do a similar thing when I have writer’s block.”

Harry looked at her questioningly. “Get sick?”

“No, like, try to take a break.” She took another sip of her drink. “This is weird. I didn’t mean to intrude. I’m just going to head out.” She rose from the couch.

“Why is it weird?” Harry asked, voice still strained from his illness. “We were going to the show tonight, why can’t we just hang out here instead? Watch a movie or something? Play a board game?”

Penny laughed. “A board game?”

“I happen to be a next level Scrabble player.”

“Is that so?”

Harry nodded. “And I can prove it to you if you’ll stay and play with me.”

Penny rubbed her thumb along her can, catching a drop of condensation. What did this mean – the two of them hanging out together without a concert or shop talk as a buffer. The two of them alone in Harry’s house altered the stakes in a significant way. The lines between source and friend and whatever else was lurking in the background were significantly blurred and she felt like she was playing with fire. “Sure,” she said. “Just let me send these tickets to Chloe so someone can make use of them.”

“Great! I’ll find the game.”

Just as Penny pressed the transfer button, Harry reappeared, a worn and well-loved Scrabble box in his hand. “Get comfortable, I’m serious,” he said, easing down onto the floor and setting the Scrabble board up on the coffee table.

Penny shrugged off her cardigan, laying it on the couch behind her before joining Harry on the floor. “How does this work?”

“You’ve never played?” he asked incredulously as Penny shook her head. “How is that even possible?”

“I don’t know,” Penny laughed. “I just never played. I’m honestly not a huge board game person.”

“I can’t believe I let you into my house,” Harry deadpanned. “Not a board game person! Madness!”

Penny rolled her eyes. “Just shut up and teach me how to play.”

Harry started explaining the rules as finished setting up the pieces and Penny tried not to giggle at his excitement and the way he tripped over his words as he laid everything out for her. It wasn’t a complicated game and Penny quickly caught on, relishing the few times she was able to land a double or triple word score, much to Harry’s chagrin.

“I thought you said you hadn’t played before!” he exclaimed.

“I haven’t!”

“How are you so good?”

“Harry, I write for a living and it’s a word game, not fucking brain surgery.”

“Beginner’s luck!”

“Or maybe I’m just better than you!”

They were in the middle of their second game before Penny realized that they hadn’t said a thing about their jobs. No mention of new albums or concerts or studio executives or editors. And the conversation managed to feel easy. It felt like she was with someone she’d known forever, and she loved how comforting that felt.

As they were finishing up the game, Penny could see that Harry’s energy was waning. His laughter didn’t quite reach his eyes anymore and he seemed a little dazed after a couple of coughing fits. “Would you want to switch to a movie or something?” she suggested gently.

“That would be nice,” he relented after a moment’s hesitation. “I’m going to make some tea before, though. Would you like some?”

“Sure, I can help.”

Harry looked like he was about to protest but after glancing at Penny, he abandoned whatever he was about to say, gesturing for her to lead the way. They stood side by side in the kitchen as the water boiled, and Penny tried not to shiver when Harry’s hand grazed hers as he handed her a teabag. Beverages in hand, they made their way back to the couch. Harry stretched out, fishing for the remote among the cushions and Penny plopped down across from him. Harry flicked through the various films available turning to Penny every so often to gauge her opinion before finally settling on a comedy they’d both seen before.

For the first half of the film, they made each other laugh, reciting the memorable lines along with the actors on screen, but after an hour or so, Penny heard an odd noise coming from where Harry was sprawled. His head was resting on the arm of the couch and he had his arms folded over his chest, as if he was trying to curl into himself. His chest rose and fell evenly as soft snores came from his lips. The moment felt too intimate and Penny felt as though she should avert her eyes. But try as she might, she couldn’t.

This was the Harry she’d gotten to know over the past few weeks, the one who was vulnerable and second guessed himself and who cared about things so deeply he let them consume him. The one who looked out for those around him and was surprised when people did the same for him. The Harry who wanted to be her friend.

In that moment, everything clicked for Penny and she felt like she was seeing clearly for the first time in weeks. She couldn’t betray Harry. She’d figure out another way to deal with Darren and find the career changing scoop, but she couldn’t risk losing Harry. If she was this concerned about not hearing from him for three days, what would happen if he was out of her life forever?

Penny wasn’t sure what she was supposed to do with her newfound clarity, but being in Harry’s presence in the wake of the revelation felt suffocating. She needed to get out of his house. Gingerly, she reached over to turn the television off before placing a blanket over his sleeping form. She grabbed her cardigan and shoved her feet in her shoes only to open the door and come face to face with Jeff.

“Heeeyyy,” he said cautiously. “What are you doing here?”

“Hi!” Penny said quickly, stepping out onto the porch and gently closing the door behind her. “How are you?”

“Fine. I-I don’t mean to be rude but I’m just confused as to what you’re doing here.” Jeff laughed lightly.

“So Harry and I were supposed to go to a concert tonight but I hadn’t heard from him in a couple of days and when I texted him about meeting up he didn’t respond and I was a little worried so I came over to check on him.” The words all came out in a weird, breathy, rushed whisper.

“Right,” Jeff said slowly. “Why are you whispering?”

“Because Harry’s asleep.” Penny’s eyes widened hearing her own words. “He fell asleep. After we played Scrabble. And watched a movie. I think he’s still on the mend.”

“You hung out with him?”

Penny nodded. “Yeah, I didn’t plan on staying but he invited me in and it seemed like he wanted company sooo…”

“Yeah, no that’s great,” Jeff said. “I’ve just been checking in on him on my way home each night and I know some others have too but I was just surprised to see you here.” He grinned. “Quite different from how things were a month ago.”

“Mhmm,” was all Penny could get out. “I should probably go.” She darted around Jeff and half walked half jogged down the path, fishing for her keys in her bag while she did so. When she managed to unlock the door, she gave Jeff a casual wave before driving off.

“They just need to fuck,” Jeff said to himself, shaking his head before heading inside.

Harry was jolted awake by the sound of the front door closing, and looked around the room confused as to where his companion had gone. “Penny?” he rasped.

“Nope, just me,” Jeff said, poking his head around the corner. “Don’t mean to disappoint you.”

“You’re the farthest thing from a disappointment, Jeffrey. Penny was just here earlier and I just assumed...”

“I know, I ran into her on the way out.”

Harry frowned as he ran his hand through his messy curls. “She left without saying goodbye.”

Jeff shrugged. “I guess. She said you were asleep and looked like she was in a rush. Maybe she had better things to do than watch the guy who refuses to admit he’s in love with her sleep for two hours.”

“I -”

“Don’t fight it, H. We all see it.”

“There’s nothing to see, Jeffrey.”

Jeff sat down on the edge of the coffee table looking Harry directly in the eye. “H, I’ve known you a long time and because of that, I’d like to think I know you better than most. Something’s been going on with you this year. You’ve been…off. You said Japan was going to reset you but it didn’t seem like it worked. I mean the way you treated Penny those first couple of times.” He exhaled. “That wasn’t you. But the past few weeks, it’s like a switch has been flipped. You’re writing again, you seem happy, and I don’t think it’s a coincidence that this happened after you’ve gotten to know Penny.”

Harry refused to meet Jeff’s eyes, keeping his gaze on the wall behind him. “I feel like Penny understands me in a way no one else does. It’s like I don’t even have to explain things to her. She just gets it, gets me. But that’s it.”

“Oh, is that all?”

“Yeah, we’re friends.”

Jeff pursed his lips. “So if she wanted to go to dinner and then…I don’t know…have sex after you’d say no? Since you all are ‘just friends.’” He made air quotes with his fingers as he said the last two words. “If she said you should call it a date instead of dinner, you wouldn’t want that?”

“Yeah.”

“Look me in the eyes and tell me that, H.”

Harry turned his head and looked Jeff dead in the eye. “Penny and I are just friends and I don’t want to sleep with her. Or date her.”

Jeff held his gaze. “You’ve always been a shit liar, H.”

***

Penny couldn’t sleep that night, her mind replaying her day with Harry again and again. She knew what she needed to do now, but that didn’t make things any easier.

She couldn’t move forward with the article…that was a given. But Harry…she didn’t know what to do about him. There was no way he could feel the same about her. He just couldn’t. And to put herself out there? Be that vulnerable with him? Now that was a recipe for disaster.

She closed her eyes and willed herself to fall asleep. But as she counted sheep, all she could think of was how much she wished Harry were lying next to her.

***

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shedoessoshedoes · 1 year ago

Text

i'll sing her my songs, i'll stay through the night.

HAPPY NESSIAN WEEK!!!!!!!!!!! I didn't think I was going to have anything to post (and I haven't posted fic in like a year oops) but I hope you like this one for Song Association! Inspired by Taylor Swift's surprise songs and Peter Sun's song "First of July." Enjoy, and let me know what you think!!

@nessianweek

also, I have an ao3 now (YAY) sooo read on ao3

warnings: some language

word count: 1.3k

“Alright, alright,” Cassian chuckles as he works to calm the crowd down. It’s a packed house tonight, and they’ve been rowdy since the boys took the stage. “Welcome to our acoustic set!” The crowd goes wild at this: the Bat Boys have been adding in surprise songs to their set since they started performing, and it’s become a major draw for concerts. They rotate picking a song each show, and there are no rules on what that song has to be.

Azriel tends to pick slower, indie songs, and their fans adored his version of ‘Next to You’ by John Vincent III so much they ended up releasing it as a single. Rhys picks classic rock more often than not, and Cassian has the most variety: everything from ‘Let’s Talk About Sex,’ to Hozier’s ’NFWMB.’

They’ve played unreleased music, fan favorites that don’t fit into the typical set, covers of nearly everything, and, most memorably, have dedicated some of their favorite songs to their girls. Rhys’s picks are always overly sappy songs for Feyre: his performance of Frankie Valli’s ‘Can’t Take My Eyes off You’ was particularly iconic as he reenacted Heath Leger’s 10 Things I Hate About You dance. Azriel brought Elain out one night and perched her on a stool next to him while he covered Gregory Alan Isakov’s ‘Big Black Car’ for her. Cassian’s dedicated songs to Nesta, of course, but since they decided to keep their relationship private, he’s never acknowledged her officially before playing a song. Until tonight.

“So, y’all are especially lucky because it’s my turn to pick the surprise song for you tonight, and we have something extra special for you.” He sits down on the stool the stagehand brings out and slings an electric guitar over his shoulder as he sits. “I don’t know if any of you saw, but I actually got engaged last week.” They’d announced it with a picture of Nesta’s ring on his Instagram, the only caption a white heart. No tag. The public knew Cassian was seeing someone, but they didn’t know who she was. Didn’t know she was Feyre and Elain’s sister, and had no idea she was in the crowd tonight. “If it’s alright with you, I’d like to play a song I wrote for her.” The crowd goes wild, and Cassian grins.

“It’s the first time we’re playing it, and she hasn’t even heard it yet,” he chuckles. “She doesn’t know I wrote it, either.” The crowd oooohs in response. “It’ll be out at midnight tonight, so you can listen to it again, if you’d like. It’s called ‘First of July,’ and I hope you like it. Nes, sweetheart, I hope you like it, too.”

He starts playing, simple chords on the guitar filling the venue.

I know that she loves me. I know that she loves the mountains more. Sun on her shoulders. First of July.

In the crowd near the stage, Nesta is standing, awestruck. She had no idea he was planning this. No idea he was even writing a song, much less one named for the day they met, and to spring it on her like this, well. She was probably going to cry. He did that to her. Made her express how she felt a little more honestly than she ever had. She stares up at him as he continues to sing, hand over her mouth.

You can’t tell her one thing to do She pushes your limits, she makes her own rules She’ll lift you up just to let you down, But she’s honest, she’s kind, she’s like no one around.

I’ll sing her my songs, I’ll stay through the night, With her in my arms, with her at my side So tell me what’s wrong, and I’ll make it right.

”Fuck,” she whispers, reaching blindly out for Elain or Gwyn’s hand. “I didn’t know he was doing this.”

Feyre laughs. “Rhys says he’s been planning it since you met.”

“Shit, Feyre, don’t tell me that. I’m already a mess.” Gwyn wraps Nesta up into a hug. Emerie gives the group of them a knowing look from where she plays with the boys on stage. Cassian is looking determinedly down at his guitar, and Nesta knows he’s nervous about what she thinks of this.

I know that she’s happy. I know ‘cause she’s humming while she eats At the counter Twelve o’clock noon

I know that she’s happy. I know ‘cause she’s reading me her stories. That she writes They’re not the ones she hides.

Nesta laughs wetly as Cass launches back into the refrain. It really was about her. About her schedule when she was on a deadline, and the songs she would hum when they wiggled their way into her brain and she couldn’t get them out. About the stories she read to him, and the scenes she hid because they may have been inspired by certain activities and she didn’t want Cassian getting too much of an ego, even if he was sure to read them once the books came out.

I’ll sing her my songs, I’ll stay through the night, Dear honeybear, love bug, sweetheart of mine.

She starts crying, then, because he hasn’t called her any of those names since they first started dating and determined ‘sweetheart’ was the only pet name she could stand. He really had been thinking about this for the whole time, then.

I know that I love her. I know ‘cause there’s nothing else I want.

Cassian finishes the song to raucous applause, and Nesta’s already sure it’s going to top the charts by the end of the week. He starts to get up and adjust for the next song, but she needs him to know she loved his gesture. That she was okay with it. “Cassian!” she shouts.

His head whips up, attuned to her at all times, even in a space as loud and chaotic as this one. When he sees her smiling despite the tears running down her face, his expression softens into a smile she knows is just for her. She waves him over, and he turns to gesture at a security guard. He looks back at her his face clearly asking if she’s doing what he thinks she is. She nods, and then follows a security guard up to the stage.

Cassian meets her at the top of the stairs. “You sure, sweetheart?” Nesta nods. He laughs, once, a joyous, hopeful sound, and kisses her. The crowd goes wild, and he’s sure the his brothers and the rest of his band are cheering too, but all he can see is Nesta. He pulls away from her to bury his head into the crook of her shoulder, and presses a kiss to her neck. “Love you, love you, love you.” He mumbles, and Nesta pushes him up and away so she can look at him.

“I love you too, you idiot. Go finish your show.” He laughs and pecks her nose.

“Nesta Archeron, everyone!” he shouts into the microphone, holding her left hand up so the camera can zoom in on her ring. “Also known as the love of my life.”

Nesta laughs, and he kisses her one more time. “See you after?” he asks.

“You always do. Break a leg. Don’t bring anyone else up here.”

“Never. It’s just you, Nes.”

“I love you, too, Cassian.”

He goes back to his set and Nesta watches the rest of the concert from off-stage. They finish and bow, and Nesta already knows there won’t be another show like this any time soon. She takes a picture of Cassian running back to her as he comes off stage, takes a deep breath, and posts it on Instagram. The caption reads: ‘@batcassian i guess the secret’s out. i love you.’

Cassian changes his Instagram handle to @cassianarcheron the next day.

#nessian #nessian week 2023 #nesta archeron #cassian

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married-2-the-music · 1 year ago

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K-pop Discography Deep Dives: Dreamcatcher (Part ONE)

A Disclaimer: I was planning, when I first started Tumblr, to be a lurker, but then I began an office job and needed something to listen to to keep myself occupied. And then, I started going through entire K-pop groups’ repertoires, album by album, and jotting down my thoughts. And then, I stumbled into K-pop tumblr and decided, you know what, there’s at least four people on this hell site who would read in depth rants about these discographies and at least five who wouldn’t read it and then get mad because it’s kind of our job as K-pop fans. My lukewarm takes should be taken with an entire silo of salt and the knowledge that this is completely for fun and occupying my very bored, very neurodivergent brain. All this to say, for the love of god, I’m a sleep-deprived student and I don’t have time for internet hate, so don’t kill me. With that being said, enjoy!

Here are my credentials: I’m a HUGE fan of Dreamcatcher, and have been an Insomnia since mid-2021 or so, just after the release of BEcause. They were actually the first concert I’ve ever been to, and I couldn’t have asked for a better experience for that. They totally gave their all for those two hours and I ended up loving them even more afterward. I’m even considering going again if they have another tour.

Dreamcatcher debuted in early 2017, so they’re nearing their 7th anniversary (breaking K-pop’s infamous curse), with 7 members: JiU, SuA, Yoohyeon, Gahyeon, Handong, Dami, and Siyeon. Handong was not involved in their 2020 comebacks due to being in her home country of China when COVID broke out, but she’s since returned. They have very complicated storylines which I won’t be going too deeply into here besides when I think a specific song’s meaning in context is important to mention.

Their first single was Chase Me, which starts with a deceptively lovely piano and very typical for-late-3rd-gen-vocals. I was surprised by how k-poppy the song sounded, at least in its early stages and verses, but this was their debut after all. A lot of their early work is slowly stepping out of k-pop convention, one step at a time, although a sound all their own wouldn’t come for a couple songs. Any worries I had were assuaged by such a strong chorus, especially the combination of the bridge just before the last one.

Good Night immediately stands out from the often overly-bubbly, aegyo-filled 2017 k-pop landscape with its creepy ticking clock, marionette-like dance moves and an almost violent electric guitar riff. This time the guitar continues through the whole song, so there’s no fear of it sounding same-y. I’ll probably say this many times in this review, but I just can’t get over how well-suited DC’s vocals are to this rock sound, which isn’t always the case for other groups I’ve seen with a rock concept. The distorted voices in the bridge are a nice touch too. The b-side Lullaby is actually quite lovely, and is a good showcase for their voices in a more soothing context.

Fly High is a poppier sound for Dreamcatcher, although still with more of a rock base than is usual in k-pop, which does make sense as it’s supposed to be a prequel to their much darker storyline. I’ve heard it described before as a bit like an anime theme song, and I’d have to agree, especially the “I can make it!” combined with the strings, lighter electric guitar, and super high power note. Even with a bit of a sound change, Dreamcatcher never slows down their energy, which is something I really appreciate. They always sound like they wholeheartedly believe what they’re selling.

From the EP, Prequel, there are a few great b-sides I could choose (like the off-beat Sleep-walking), but I’m gonna have to say that Wake Up is my favorite. I’m totally biased, but I’ll just never forget the experience of watching them have the absolute best time performing this live for their encore and jumping into the stratosphere while waving a pride flag back and forth. It’s an anthem that needs an audience, first and foremost, and there’s really nothing more exciting than screaming “Wake up, wake up!” at the top of your lungs.

Full Moon is a special single for their first anniversary, and I won’t spend too much time on it, but I really like how it combines that anime-esque energy from Fly High, a harsher electric guitar, EDM, and some ballad elements. It’s a style that DC returns to later in their career, and it’s fun to see a slightly less complicated version here. I never gave this song much of a chance before so I’m glad I did now.

You & I is next in the “Nightmare” saga, and is probably both the most popular of that arc and the most similar to a lot of mainstream k-pop (which I do like, I want to be clear about that. This is not an attack on mainstream k-pop, guys, I run a blog about it.). Maybe it’s a product of that, but in such a strong catalogue it doesn’t really stand out to me. All of DC’s songs add other elements to their rock sound like EDM, pop, metal, or even a flute (we’ll get to that), but You & I is pretty straightforward, as are its lyrics. The chorus and the opening hook are both pretty good, I will admit, and always get me at least nodding to the song. Again, I in no way even dislike this one, and I’m not going to skip it if I’m doing a re-listen or if it comes up on shuffle, but I just never find myself going out of my way to listen to it.

Though the title isn’t my favorite, I quite like the EP Escape The Era. Which a Star may be an average b-side but it's really elevated by their voices and its twinkling instrumentation, while Scar takes some lovely strings and some crushing electric guitars and somehow turns itself from a rock song into a ballad and right back again. Mayday, meanwhile, is much like Wake Up with its anthemic answer, and immediately gets me headbanging to its hook.

WHAT starts with a tense energy right out of the gate with those strings, and in what may be DC’s best first 20 seconds of a song, it culminates in an excellent electric guitar riff that would feel right at home in a BabyMetal song. When the song returns to “normal” after, it only adds to the sense of “wrong” and foreboding…until the chorus smashes through a brick wall with perfect metal anthem energy. In case it wasn’t clear, I love this song and it’s tied for my favorite. You just can’t do much better than a song encouraging people to wake up, fight their nightmares, and live another day, which is one of my personal favorite song subjects.

In a switch from Escape The Era, I love What but Alone In The City is one of my least-favorite of their albums. That being said, I do like the contrast between acoustic and electric guitars in Trap, and its build up is pretty great. But I usually have more than one liked b-side.

Over The Sky is another special single and returns to the softer, more string and pop-rock led base (or “anime theme”, I suppose). It feels much happier than a lot of Dreamcatcher’s singles, and is a nice break in between their very heavy discography. I especially like the twinkling quality of its background piano.

PIRI is the end of their nightmare saga, and is a continuation of the defiance seen in What. It’s named after a traditional Korean flute that the song uses to say “sound the alarm (piri), emergency, emergency.” This is the first time rap is incorporated in its own (albeit short) verse, and I think the combination works quite well. The inclusion of the flute in the background is something I’ve never heard in a song before, but its shrillness provides a good contrast to the very low guitar and drums and Dreamcatcher’s voices sitting in the middle, perfectly capturing the song’s whole idea of being stuck in between light and dark. Overall, a fitting finale.

From PIRI’s EP The End Of Nightmares, while I do really like the sweetness of the ballad Daydream, Diamond was an easy choice for me. It has quite a minimalistic chorus, which normally I’m not the biggest fan of (for evidence, look at any review I’ve ever written to hear me decry the existence of anti-drops), but here it’s to let the great guitar hook and electronic background have some time to be appreciated and its fuller pre and post-choruses make up for it.

Deja Vu is a special single made for a game collaboration, so perhaps one would assume it to be a usual ballad or easily-overlooked piece of a great discography. One would assume very, very wrong. I assumed this, when I heard the first, very slow verse and the backing piano. Deja Vu definitely leans more into melancholy than most of their singles, but it's really at the end of the pre-chorus where the band comes in and DC goes full-on rock ballad that it begins to sound like them.The song is a slow burn, definitely, but the incredible catharsis at the end is totally worth it. Just go watch the music video itself, which is full of delightful drama and betrayal, and can best be described as “Macbeth, if it was gay, Korean, and magical.” You’re welcome.

Raid Of Dream, the EP, was also produced for the game, but the mix of metal clashing and delicate vocals in Silent Night, the backing piano for the full-on ballad Polaris, and the return of the anime theme (plus guitar solo!!) in the call-to-action that is Curse Of The Spider render it quite a strong album in their greater discography.

I don’t normally dive too deeply into Japanese releases, but, like with Taemin, Dreamcatcher’s offer an interesting expansion on their work. Endless Night starts with much harsher rock than most of their singles, while Breaking Out features a surprisingly chill tropical beat, and No More goes full now-or-never nu metal with guitar riffs that would make Babymetal proud.

R. o. S. E. BLUE is another special single produced for a game, and does lead into the more ballady side of k-pop soundtrack songs, but without sacrificing Dreamcatcher’s rock edges. It, like Deja Vu, is a slow burn that doesn’t seem to have much energy at first, but builds up to it through its great pre-choruses. It’s definitely not as good as Deja Vu (few things are), but does remind me of later-stage Gfriend’s more dramatic and celestial sound, and the music video follows JiU attempting to rescue her friends from the magical prison their minds are trapped in, at the expense of herself.

So that’s where we’ll end it for now, being around halfway through. I mentioned last time in my TXT review that this was supposed to be a one-parter and became two, but the second one is basically done and will be coming out in a few days (after I listen to the new album), not a week from now, and I won’t be doing supplementals. Apologies to the five people who actually read those, lol. So, I’ll see you next time for Part Two. Tschüss!

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mc-lukanette · 2 years ago

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Luka was in the middle of taking out the trash when his phone started vibrating. He stopped to reach into his pocket, pulling it out to check his notifications.

Rose was spamming the Kitty Section group chat, going off about how there was an interview starting soon about Ladybug's love life. Mylene responded from Ivan's phone to express intrigue, whereas Juleka replied her usual short reply of 'cool.'

Luka had to resist the urge to roll his eyes. He knew well enough that the relationship between Ladybug and Chat Noir - as well as their civilian selves - was more rocky than a concert. Knowing the news too, Ladybug hadn't been told what the interview was about before being called on; probably was called on her own specifically so she'd suspect nothing. It was scummy, but that was the way they'd treated her for a long time, always out for a scoop.

Somehow, despite keeping track of Ladybug for years, the news had yet to realize what Luka had a long time ago: that pressing the relationship actively made everything worse, and if they couldn't get together on their own then it simply wasn't meant to be.

That said, it was still something involving Marinette, so Luka wanted to see it. He finished up his task, then returned to his living room to tune into the channel Rose had mentioned.

He was just in time to catch the middle of the show "welcoming" Ladybug to the set. There was an audience too, because of course there was, and Luka's thumb ran anxiously across the remote thinking of how Ladybug must've felt figuring out where this was all going.

"So, Ladybug, are there any updates on the relationship between you and Chat Noir?" the interviewer asked. "The world wants to know!"

Ladybug didn't visibly react to the question, but Luka knew she was tired of hearing it. He was impressed by her immeasurable patience when her love life was no one's business.

"..Listen," she began carefully, fingers twitching against her lap, "no matter what anyone might say, or whatever anyone thinks happened in the past because of all those pictures taken out of context, there's nothing between us."

The audience let out dejected sighs, apparently having nothing better to do in life than fantasize over two superheroes dating.

"But Ladybug," the interviewer said, undeterred for the sake of their building scoop, "even if you say that nothing's happening now, surely there's time for that to change, no? After all, if the two of you had a fight, it's important for you to—"

"Nothing between us," she interrupted, raising a finger. "I'm sorry for constantly disappointing everyone about it, but that's just how it is. Chat isn't for me. Besides..." She paused, hesitating as her gaze grew distant. "I'm not going to date anyone. Not anymore."

"Ohhh~!" they leaned in upon finding their next point of attack. "A Ladybug with a frozen heart? What could've happened, and what guy could ruin things so much that—"

"He didn't ruin anything!" she burst out, offended by the implication. An awkward silence stretched out at the reaction, but Ladybug wasn't phased. She frowned, crossing her arms and averting her gaze. "He was amazing, actually; the only guy I've ever dated. Calm, sweet, and the kind of guy that could always make you feel at peace."

The remote fell from Luka's hands, and he didn't notice when it landed on his foot.

"I'd even say that he was too good for me," Ladybug continued with a sad smile. "People might look up to me, but I'm not a perfect Ladybug. I had a lot going on, no time to do much of anything, and I could never be the girlfriend he deserved."

The interviewer shifted in their seat, suddenly uncomfortable. They clearly hadn't been expecting such a response when they prodded.

"I avoided him for a while and a part of me still wants to, but I know that he's forgiving enough to miss and want to spend time with me even now." She chuckled bitterly. "It's still selfish to stop trying to get close to him like we used too, but he reminds me of everything I've dreamed about but could never have. I'm already married to my duty to Paris. There's no room for anything else."

The audience was silent. The story that the show had wanted hadn't been juicy or telling in the slightest; just... sad.

Ladybug, finally noticing the tense atmosphere, settled back in her seat and gave a practiced, fake smile to the interviewer. Sad, but gentle, she requested, "So, no more questions about me and romance. Please..."

Luka was already out the door by the time the interview ended.

——-

After texting Marinette as casually as possible, already anticipating the minutes of delay for Ladybug to leave the interview, Luka eventually got a response confirming that she didn't have any plans for that day. It was perhaps a little deceptive, but he asked her out for a casual time at a cafe, knowing that she wouldn't be able to say "no" to it. It wasn't a private setting, nor was there any implication that he was doing it for a date, and she knew that he knew that it would be suspicious to reject him when she'd just admitted to having no plans.

He'd always kept it a personal rule of his to never tell Marinette that he knew unless she told him herself, but that was before he became aware of how much it'd been holding her back. It wasn't either of their faults - they'd both been grieving over the break-up, as he'd now realized, and it had been awkward talking about it - but that didn't mean he felt any less obligated to fix it now that he was able to. It was late for it, but he couldn't leave things as they were while knowing what he did.

Luka idled on his phone while he waited, only looking up when he heard Marinette's distinct footsteps approaching. She wore a small, restricted smile that he'd made sense of in every wrong way in the past, but he wasn't going to make the same mistake again.

"Luka," she greeted, then added weakly, "S-sorry if I'm a little late."

"We didn't pick a time," he reminded her. Apologizing for "being late" was a norm for her, so he wasn't surprised when she did it out of habit.

"Oh. Right." She scratched her cheek sheepishly, turning her attention to the nearby cafe. "Anyway, is this the place?"

He nodded, putting his phone back in his pocket and promptly opening the door for her. She gave him an appreciative look, approaching to head inside, but he spoke up once more to warn, "I really need to talk to you."

She froze, meeting his gaze with wide eyes. He could almost see the flash of thoughts pass by with the way her expression suddenly shifted as she thought about how he's usually not this serious, wondered if it was something important, and then wondered if something bad had happened. He kept quiet through all of the unspoken questions though, so she headed inside and he followed after her.

They got a table, some drinks, and a small dessert for each of them before Luka felt like it was okay to start talking. "I know, Marinette."

She looked up, having just put a forkful of her dessert in her mouth. "H-hm?" She swallowed her food before asking for clarification. "You know... what?"

He placed his hands on the table, clasping them together as he eyed her. There were times where he'd suspected that she'd figured him out without putting it all together, and this was one of those times.

"Your stage name," he replied, which was about as blunt as he could be in a place where others could hear their conversation. Giving her a careful look, he stressed, "You didn't do anything wrong either. I've just... known for years."

She stopped breathing for a second, eyes leaving his to stare silently at the table. "Y-you—oh, so you..." She brought a hand to her mouth and set her fork down, losing her appetite for the time being. "Then, did you—"

"Yeah. I saw," he confirmed.

"You weren't supposed to hear any of that," she said in a panic. "If you're mad, I'm—"

"How could I be mad?" he asked, reaching to place his hand atop hers on the table. Seeing the baffled look she gave him, he explained, "I heard the girl of my dreams, who I've been in love with for years, say that she's been singing in harmony with me."

Her face heated. "S-still? But—no." She shook her head and pulled her hand from his, bringing it to her chest to cover it with her other one. "W-whatever you want, Luka, I can't give it to you."

"It's not about what I want." He gestured to her. "It's about you."

She looked up from the table to make eye contact, puzzled. "Me?"

"Marinette, I..." He trailed off, trying to figure out the best way to tackle the subject. Tapping a finger on the table in thought, he asked, "Have I ever told you why I didn't want to become a rock star?"

Though she was still in shock, she managed to respond, "I thought... I just thought you were an introvert?"

He chuckled. "I am, but there's so much more than that. I could force myself to do it if the job was appealing enough, but it isn't. There are a lot of expectations placed on you when you're a rock star, and... well..." He glanced at her meaningfully. "It's hard, finding someone who will let you play the way you want to."

He knew she got the metaphor when her hand gravitated to her ear. He could hear her legs shifting from the fabric of her pants rubbing together, her mouth a thin line as she took in his words.

"I..." She sighed. "That's already my life. I don't have a choice in what I play; I don't even have a schedule."

"Do you think you don't deserve to be happy, Marinette?" He knew it was a harsh question, but he needed to make sure.

"No!" she answered immediately, then hesitated with a more uncertain, "No? I just—I messed up all the time, and it's more stressful worrying about not making more mistakes to someone I..." She trailed off.

"You don't have to worry about that with me. I know what happened between us, but that was my fault for projecting my insecurities from what was happening with me and my mom." Looking back, he still didn't know why he'd even done that. Odd. "You can make mistakes, and you can be late. We don't even have to plan anything so you can't be late. It can just be us in our pajamas on the couch."

She cracked a smile at the mental image and he smiled in return, though the fact that such a simple thought made her happy hurt in a way even if it felt like progress.

Just barely suppressing her grin, Marinette pulled back into her Ladybug professionalism to argue, "I'm playing for an audience who'd be upset if I'm not paying attention to them all the time. This...this isn't about me, it's about everyone else. If I'm distracted or doing something else, then—"

"So you won't let yourself be happy so you can keep track of everything on days you might not even have to play?" he countered, his hand on the table curling into a fist.

She flinched at the accusation, biting her lower lip and looking down at her lap.

"J...Jagged can handle his job," she stated, clearly reaching.

"That's just it, Marinette." Pausing for effect, he then pointed out, "Jagged can play whatever he wants and loves his job, but even with all that, he still wanted to put himself back in my life. He still wanted to make it work. What does that say about what's going on with you?"

Her lips parted in realization. Troubled, her brows furrowed, eyes darting around the room at random.

"I'm not expecting or asking anything of you," Luka clarified. "I just want you to let yourself be happy, no matter what that looks like."

He meant it. While she had essentially said that she was in love with him over the interview, he would've approached her on the matter even if it'd been someone else she was interested in.

After a long silence, Marinette even taking a moment to pick her fork back up and stab at her dessert, she sighed. "I-it's your fault."

He blinked. "What?"

"This is why I didn't—!" She aggressively shoved a piece of her dessert into her mouth, then swallowed before saying accusingly, "You're always encouraging me, a-and making me want to do things for myself!"

She made it sound like a bad thing. It would've been amusing if it weren't so sad. She reached out, resting her hand over his and brushing her thumb over it.

"Making me want to be happy," she murmured with a pout.

He placed his free hand over hers, insisting, "You can be. Maybe it won't be the same way as everyone else, but you can be happy."

"With you?" she blurted out, a hint of hopefulness to her voice.

His heart skipped a beat at the suddenness of the question, but he nodded. "We'll work on it together, I promise. I don't know how long it'll take to convince you, but even if it took forever, I'm not going anywhere. I'm yours."

He could feel her hand shaking, worrying momentarily when she pulled back again. He watched as she ran her fingers idly along the edge of the table, as if in thought, then she pushed herself up and walked around the table to him.

Just as he was about to open his mouth to call her name, she bent down and kissed him. It felt like lighting going up his spine in every best way, and he reached up to cup her cheek while kissing back.

Given that they were in a public place, it didn't last long but was nonetheless full of emotion. Marinette was blushing pink when she pulled away and returned to her seat, at which point Luka realized that she'd been shaking earlier because she was happy.

"I-I guess—" She giggled, licking her lips in a way that he felt vaguely teased by. "...maybe it's okay if I'm a little happy."

He beamed. Marinette might've still had to deal with putting on a concert for all of Paris, but he'd always be waiting backstage for her afterwards.

#queuekanette #lukaneventte: No Context November #Flower Arrangement Shipping #Pro LukaMari #Lukanette

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sunspray-peak · 1 year ago

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Ch. 60: Camellia Station

SUNDAY - WINTER 14

When Achilles woke, Alex was gone, but he knew better than to worry. He slipped on a pair of socks and padded to the kitchen. No, Alex wasn’t the type to slip silently into the night without a goodbye, he was more likely to—ah yes. There it was.

Alex, dressed in an old crewneck of Achilles’, standing at a sizzling stove, spatula in hand.

The sight of Alex in his clothes, as chaste as their night had been, brought a small tickle to Achilles’ stomach, and after taking just a beat to admire the view, he called “Morning,” from the doorway. “Raiding my closet, I see. Just can’t help but rifle through my things, can you?”

Alex (and Voltaire, who was waiting patiently at Alex’s feet) turned, a wide grin already plastered across his face. “It’s good stuff. Hey, by the way, you don’t have an apron.”

“Why would I need an apron to boil an egg?”

“I’m not wearing, like, one of your $500 sweaters am I?”

“No, it was free. Got it at a signing years and years ago.”

“You’re not lying to me are you?”

“It’s got a bookstore logo on the back, Al.”

“I don’t know, don’t rich people sometimes pay a lot of money for things that look free.”

God, how easy it was still to talk to him. Achilles gave a snort before disappearing back into the bedroom to change and brush his teeth.

When he returned, Alex was setting two plates down on the table, each complete with pancakes, two fried eggs, and some hashbrowns.

Achilles scooted his seat forward and gave the yolk a poke, letting it run into the potatoes. “Is making breakfast the morning after part of the Handbook as well?”

Alex rolled his eyes good-naturedly as he poured Achilles a glass of milk. “I’m not supposed to kiss anyone until the third date, you really think my grandpa had instructions for ‘staying the night’ and ‘the morning after?’ I shouldn’t even be here.”

“So you’re breaking the rules, huh?”

“Only for you, Ash.”

“No, no, don’t try to flatter me this time.” Achilles waved his fork at Alex who was now digging into his plate. “You broke them for Tanya, didn’t you?”

“Huh?”

Oh. Shit.

“Ah. I…” Achilles sighed and set down his fork. “I must confess, I ran into you. Well, not ‘ran into’ because you didn’t see me, I suppose you could say I was snooping—”

“—How the turn tables—”

“—but I saw you and Tanya at the beginning of the season. When she dropped you off in the parking lot that morning.”

Alex blinked several times, as if trying to remember the aforementioned events. Only after he swallowed a rather hefty bite of pancake did he exclaim, “Oh.”

“I’m not mad,” Achilles hurried to say. “Or upset. Just to be clear. Not that I have any right to be mad, anyway. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“No, I… I was…”

“You don’t have to explain yourself.”

“No, I mean, if I’m honest, I guess I… almost kind of forgot about that.”

Huh. Well clearly it meant nothing, then.

“She just asked me if I wanted to go to a concert after work, and one thing just… led to another, I guess, maybe I figured I’d… Actually. I don’t really know why I did it. I’m really sorry—”

“Yoba, don’t fucking apologize.” Achilles pinched his nose. “Al, you’re obviously allowed to date other people and…” Experiment? Fuck, what’s the right word…

“After Spirit’s Eve, I had this… dream. About… you. And I just… well I panicked, a little. At the time, I just chalked it up to the alcohol and stuff, like we’ve all had weird dreams… but you know, looking back, maybe I… maybe I started liking you a lot earlier than I thought I did. Like, maybe my body had caught on before my brain or something… It’s not that I… hate that I’m… gay.” Alex frowned—his expression darkened for a second before he added firmly, “I’m not my grandpa.

“But I just… well. Like I said last night, I just didn’t believe I could have… feelings for another guy. Like outside of senior year of high school for like five minutes, the thought had never even crossed my mind.

“And I think I just panicked, you know. Was confused for a day, there. And when she asked me out, I think a part of me was just desperate to prove to myself that I was… normal? No, I know, I know, that’s the wrong word, but I mean, I guess I just… I wanted to try and see if I could actually feel some way about a person—about a girl. I don’t know. I’m sorry. I did it because I just… didn’t know what I wanted. Or, thought I was supposed to want something that I didn’t actually want but wanted to test that out—that didn’t make sense, I don’t know. But it didn’t mean anything, shit, I’m sorry—”

“You don’t have to apologize or explain yourself, Al.” Achilles bumped Alex’s foot from under the table. He sighed, lay his fork back next to his plate and shook his head. “You know, I sometimes forget how lucky I was… How easy I had it growing up. I never really questioned anything, I think I always just knew… And I never worried about how my parents would react. Everyone’s got their own journey, right? Don’t apologize for taking your time with yours.”

*****

“Any plans for today? Or is it just getting ready for tonight?”

Achilles sighed and tossed a clumsily re-folded napkin to the left of his empty plate. “Do I ever have plans these days? Might go for a run later, I’m feeling a bit antsy. Likely vicarious nervous energy…”

“What have you got to be nervous about?”

“Well nothing, really. That’s why it’s vicarious.”

“Come on, Ash, you know I don’t know the meaning of any words with four or more syllables.”

“Oh, it’s just like… hmm, like when you experience or feel something second hand, like through somebody else’s experiences. I know Elliott’s probably freaking the fuck out about his reading, and I’m also nervous specifically through him, if that makes sense?”

“Huh.” Alex thoughtfully munched on his last bite of pancake. “So like, when I felt really excited watching you win second place at the Stardew Valley Fair last season, that was like, vicarious excitement?”

“The Stardew Valley Fair? Fuck, was that really the last time I seemed excited about something?” Achilles stood and grabbed his and Alex’s empty plates. “But, yeah, that’s pretty much what vicarious means. Good job.”

“Oh no, let me help you with the dishes—”

“It’s 7:45, shouldn’t you be heading to the bus?”

“Dang, you’re a real party pooper, you know that?”

“We’ve been friends for a year now, it’s your own fault if you weren’t aware. Come on, pip pip, Mr. Manager.” Achilles thwacked Alex’s shoulder on his way to the sink. “You can just keep the shirt.”

*****

They stood on Achilles’ porch, an early morning Winter wind swirling the previous evening’s dust of snow. Alex was rolling on the balls of his feet, hands in his pockets.

“I, um. Well I had a really good time. Last night. And this morning.” He gave Achilles a shy smile before looking quickly away at one of the dead bleeding heart bushes by the greenhouse (Shane had reassured him they would grow back in the Spring).

“Likewise.” Achilles leaned against the doorframe, drying a plate with a dishtowel. “Let’s do it again sometime.”

“I can’t tell if you’re messing with me—”

“I mean, I am. I’m sorry, I’m being an asshole—it’s ‘cause you’re making me nervous, why are you hopping around like that—”

“What? You become an asshole when you’re nervous?”

“Don’t you dare make the joke I know you’re about to make—”

“No idea what you’re talking about—”

“Right, mmhm.” Achilles slapped him lightly with the dish cloth. “Anyway, all that to say… I was messing with you, but I was also serious. I… had a good time, too. And would… genuinely like to do it again.” A beat. “Let me take you out tomorrow, unless that’s too soon?”

Not even a beat. “Nope!”

"I can pick you up from Orange Grove. Take you to dinner. Maybe catch a show, I saw Persephonopolis is in town, I’ve heard good things—actually, wait, do you like theater?”

Alex, who had brightened immediately at Achilles’ offer, was quick to eagerly exclaim, “Yeah!” only to immediately deflate. He bit his lip, scratched the side of his nose. “Well, okay, actually, I don’t know. I’ve never seen a musical before. But I don’t see why I wouldn’t like one! I’m excited!”

“You’ve never seen a musical?”

“Nah, theater just always seemed like it was for… fancy people.”

“Well, I suppose this is our time to be fancy people.”

“You are a fancy people.” Alex glanced down at his collar. “Hmm, I haven’t worn a tie in awhile…”

“Ok, we don’t have to be that fancy—”

“Might be fun though—”

“Hey if you want to go all out, let’s go all out. Whatever you want. Now get off my porch, boyyo, you need to go.”

Alex smiled. His cheeks were red, perhaps from the cold, perhaps from something else… “I… I really like you, Ash.” Achilles’ hands were full (you dumb bitch, why didn’t you leave the damn plate in the kitchen?), but Alex lightly traced the back of his palms before absentmindedly wrapping the corner of the dish towel around his forefinger. “Can I kiss you again?”

Achilles couldn’t help but laugh—oh Alex. How could he be so unaware of the effect he had on him? Then again, he could just be being polite…

“Al.” He set the plate down on the porch swing and trailed his now-free fingers down Alex’s scarf. “I think it’s very sweet that you always ask. But you don’t have to anymore, the answer’s always going to be yes.”

It was a small thing this time—light and quick, but even so, Achilles closed his eyes and savored the brief touch.

“You really ought to go…” Achilles murmured, gently tightening Alex’s scarf. They had dallied long enough, Alex would probably have to run if he wanted to make it to the bus stop in time… “I’ll see you tonight?”

“You know it.”

After but the smallest hesitation, he hopped forward to kiss Achilles on the cheek. And then he was gone.

*****

Achilles was in a daze. For nearly half an hour after Alex had sprinted off, he had continued to sit on his porch, despite the cold and the wind, warmed by his flush from the morning’s events.

Did that really just happen?

The past 12 hours or so… had they all really been… real? Surely this was all but a very good dream.

“Meow!”

Achilles patted his lap as the cat bounded up to join him. “What do you think of Alex, Voltaire? Do you like him?”

“Meow!”

He smiled softly to himself, petting the purring cat. “I do, too.”

Oh, but had they moved too fast? Should he have taken a step back, put on the brakes? Had he sabotaged this with his eagerness before it had even really had a chance to begin? Despite his joke the previous evening, Achilles didn’t often kiss on a first date, let alone invite his dates to stay the night.

But those had usually been strangers—acquaintances, mutual friends at best. Surely this was different. He and Alex had been friends for practically a year. They hadn’t needed to spend time getting to know each other, or feel each other out.

Don’t overthink this, bitch.

No, he had no regrets.

Alex’s reveal the night before had been a bit—well, more than a bit—of a surprise. Achilles had sat on the information some, long after Alex had fallen asleep, pondering the potential ramifications of Alex’s asexuality. Now Achilles hadn’t lied—disappointed, he was not—but he had always had an average enough libido (at least, before the antidepressants), and he’d be lying if he said the news hadn’t somewhat caught him off guard.

But that didn’t necessarily believe this made the two of them incompatible. Of that, Achilles was sure. Yes. He would be fine to wait—more than fine to take it slow. He would compromise, and perhaps there were things Alex would be willing to compromise on, too. They would talk more—what was Alex comfortable with, what would be enough for Achilles. Better define their limits, their wants, their needs. Communication, the foundation of every good relationship, right? And they’d always conversed well. Yes, this would be fine. Better than fine.

Yoba, to even just touch him again, let alone kiss him. Both were enough for Achilles, and both Alex was more than eager to provide. Yes, he had no regrets. The memory of their dinner last night alone was enough to set a permanent smile on his face.

He allowed himself an hour to digest both his thoughts and what had probably been the best breakfast he’d had since moving to the Valley before indeed going for a jog. But if he’d hoped the biting cold would clear his mind from the man at hand (you lovesick goon, you’ve got other things to worry about right now) he was sorely disappointed, for with every pound of his footsteps against the familiar beaten path through Cindersap, Achilles was brought back to the previous season, when he and Alex would run side by side.

How had this happened? Truly—what were the chances that Alex, of all people, could have ever fallen in love with him?

Speaking of which… in love! Those were the words Alex had used—and multiple times, at that. Perhaps Alex simply didn’t place the same weight to them as Achilles did, but even so, the thought thawed his wind beaten face with overwhelming warmth.

Don’t get ahead of yourself…

It was a shorter run but a longer shower than usual. After it became clear he wasn’t going to be able to think of anything else on the trail, he returned home after half an hour to sit in a cloud of lavender-scented steam for twice as long as his run had been.

The bath seemed to have done the trick, though Alex was, of course, still lingering in his mind. The sight of the toothbrush Alex had borrowed sitting by the sink brought a small smile to his lips. But when he emerged from the bathroom, it was with a renewed sense of peace and focus that he hadn’t felt in many a week.

Good. After all, he had business to attend to!

*****

There was almost an hour to go before doors officially opened, but even so, Achilles found himself scurrying about the museum in his usual impatient way—arranging flowers, moving lamps, straightening the thirty chairs he’d had Gunther arrange ahead of time.

He hoped thirty hadn’t been too generous an estimation. Surely most of the Stardew community would come out, even if it were more out of curiosity surrounding Elliott’s long-time-coming novel than genuine support for the writer.

Achilles hadn’t had much to time to advertise, especially with the snowstorm. But he had made sure all villagers were aware at least, and had reached out to some local publishing contacts and had taken out a last minute ad in the local daily paper, promising a book reading and refreshments. Alex, bless his heart, had been more than happy to drop off some flyers at the Zuzu bookstores and coffee shops to help spread the word beyond.

Taking a page out of Lewis’ festival book (though the thought made him shudder), he had pushed over one of the longer tables at the back of the library and draped it in a sapphire blue tablecloth. Emily was now helping him carefully lay out the catering he had ordered from the Stardrop Saloon earlier that day.

He’d even managed to put together a little silent auction to benefit the museum—a couple pieces of art from Leah, a few of Gus’ homemade jams, some of Shane’s goat cheese. Haley was even offering up an hour long portrait session (though Achilles highly suspected Alex had perhaps manhandled her into it). The items had been lain neatly out across another table he’d pushed in between two bookshelves. Hopefully it wasn’t a fire hazard.

Make the space cozier, he had thought to himself earlier when he’d been transforming the wide, labyrinthine space into something a little more intimate. Close the gaps, move the desks, bring up the bean bags. If only he could move the fireplace closer. Gunther, in addition to donating a few rare hardbacks, as well as a peculiar chicken statue, to the silent auction, had pretty much given him free reign to rearrange the room.

He better, after all I’ve done do liven this place up. Barely even had a book a year ago…

Not so anymore. Since Summer, the shelves had been heavy with the community’s surveyed selections and more. It had cost him quite a pretty penny (damn Lewis, where the hell were the tax dollars going?), but Achilles had no regrets.

Amidst all his scurrying, Achilles allowed himself a minute to pause, weaving through the bookshelves to sidle up to Elliott, who had hidden himself away in the far corner of the adjoining room. The man, an unusually morose expression on his long face, looked without seeing through the darkened windows at the fresh flurries fluttering down outside.

“How are you feeling?”

“Oh…” Elliott declined the crab cake Achilles was offering with a wriggle of his fingers before burying his head in his hands, his mane of auburn hair slipping from behind his shoulder to conceal a pale face. “Sick.”

“Oh.” No lengthy metaphors? No waxing poetic? Yikes. Elliott really must be feeling bad.

“It’ll be great, man. You’ll be great.” Achilles patted him on the back, adding a bit of extra oomph in his tap against the burgundy velvet of Elliott’s sports jacket for reassurance. But the writer only turned an impressive shade of pea green.

*****

Shane had been the first to arrive, to Achilles’ surprise. He had slinked in near noiselessly, and was halfway down the refreshments table, paper plate stacked with three hefty crab cakes and a poppyseed muffin, before Achilles, who’d been jotting his name down to bid for the portrait session (knowing it’d drive Haley insane) noticed his presence.

“Shane! How are you doing, glad you could make it.”

“Mmph.” Shane poked a pudgy finger at the three sprigs of dandelion salad on his plate. “Couldn’t have ordered pizza?”

“Sure. Right…”

Leah joined soon after, followed by Penny, then Willy the fisherman, and Gil and Marlon. A bit of an odd group, those early birds, but Achilles had provided a spiked option for the hot chocolate, and all were soon mixing and mingling with relative ease.

At a quarter to 6, Alex arrived with his grandparents. Evelyn greeted him with what was, to the discerning eye, perhaps an overly warm embrace, but George, Achilles noticed, refused to even acknowledge his presence, moving almost immediately away to take a seat in the last row after ignoring the bookmark Achilles had been offering him.

He and Alex had discussed the matter briefly during dinner the night before—Alex had said there wasn’t much to share, really; it was plain and simple, exactly what Achilles would’ve expected. George wasn’t pleased. And that was that.

“But it’s my life, right?” Alex had said with a wan smile. “He’s not really… talking to me right now, but Grandma says he’ll… come around…”

How long that’d take, who knew. But at least Evelyn was on his side, Alex had said—and, of course, Achilles.

Still, likely overly conscious of George’s glare, they didn’t touch—not even the side-hug that was Alex’s usual way of saying hello for just about anyone. But Alex did greet him with an enthusiastic, double-handed wave after Evelyn had finishing squeezing Achilles within an inch of suffocation.

“Hi!”

Achilles unconsciously smoothed the front of his cardigan. “Hey.”

“Nice shirt.” Alex nodded at the tiny trains dotting Achilles’ button down before flicking a piece of dust off of his shoulder. A far from intimate touch—really, barely a touch at all—but it nevertheless kicked off a prickling ripple down Achilles’ arms. He could get used to this. “I’ve always wondered, do you just, like, already own these or do you buy them specifically for whatever event is going on?”

“Eh, a little bit of both… I did already own this one, though I can’t actually remember why…”

An obnoxiously loud cackle announced Abigail, Sebastian, and Sam’s arrival. It seemed like they had brought friends from the city, traipsing in with two other strangers who all made their way immediately to the refreshments table.

“Gonna be a full house, Ell!” he heard Leah exclaim from behind the bookshelves. “Better not fuck this up, eh!” The exclamation was followed by a lengthy, low, almost melodious, wail.

Well, at least the melodrama had returned. That had to be a positive sign, right?

Alex and Achilles shared a look, the former stifling his laughter behind a cup of hot chocolate. As more and more guests continued to stream through the doors, he gave Achilles’ shoulder a little squeeze before joining Penny by the bean bags, leaving Achilles to play the role of host undistracted.

“Congratulations.”

“Pardon?”

Achilles turned from greeting Maru and Dr. Harvey, fresh from the clinic, to see Shane emerging from behind another bookshelf with an empty plate and a cup full of hot tea.

“You and him.” The man gave a jerky nod in Alex’s general direction. “Right?”

It wasn’t often Achilles was caught off guard, but Shane? Of all people?

“I—you—”

But Shane only grunted, offering up a shrug before plodding away to join Marnie and Jas who had just arrived.

By 6:25, there were well over 30 guests milling about the museum. Mostly townsfolk, as to be expected, but a sizable group of folks Achilles didn’t recognize had made it out to Stardew as well.

He made his over way to the podium.

“Hi everyone. We’re going to get started in about five minutes, if you could please make your way to your seats soon, that would be wonderful.”

*****

“Good evening everyone. Thank you all so much for coming out, we are so excited to welcome all of you to Stardew Valley’s Museum & Library.”

Achilles looked out at the small crowd of painstakingly straightened chairs. A good turnout, he thought to himself. 39 people, he’d been keeping count.

He was back at the podium after taking the final few minutes to close the silent auction (he’d been outbid by a “Zachary Grace“ for Haley’s portrait package, unfortunately) and secure a last minute snickerdoodle cookie for himself.

He had never found himself to be good at comforting others, and so was grateful to find Leah had committed herself to hyping up Elliott (though it could be debated whether she was any better than him at the task)—and though Achilles could still make out standing next to him a set of slightly wobbling knees, the writer had at least returned to his usual complexion.

“Now, it’s my pleasure to introduce to you tonight’s author, and one of my dearest friends, Elliott St. Laurent, who will be reading the first chapter from what will surely be a bestselling, debut novel, Camellia Station.”

He stepped to the side and, sneaking in what he hoped was a small, encouraging wink, gestured for Elliott to take the stage as a round of healthy applause rang through the room.

Elliott gripped the sides of the podium tight, perhaps in an effort to stem his shaking, the knuckles of his large hands white with the effort. A handful of deep breaths. A second to clear his throat. And then…

*****

“Ever since I was a young boy, I dreamt of becoming a writer.

“When the time came for me to leave home and start my own life, I moved here. I was drawn to the peaceful beauty of the valley, and hoped that days of quiet reflection in this idyllic atmosphere would fan the literary flames.

“And indeed they did! As I’m sure many of my fellow villagers would attest, it took perhaps quite a few more days than I had initially anticipated for the aforementioned literary flames to wholly ignite—“ he paused for the townsfolk to laugh politely. “ —but I am proud to share that, after many a year, I stand before you now with my completed novel in hand.

“But it would be the gravest error not to acknowledge two names, for I could never have completed this endeavor without the support and guidance of my dearest of friends—Miss Leah Connolly and, of course, Achilles Robinson, who you all surely know is a bestselling author himself!”

Achilles, who had joined Leah in a seat by the side of the room, received the applause politely, giving a small, lazy bow of his head before skillfully turning the attention back to Elliott, who, with each sentence, had quickly grown in confidence.

“And so, after countless hours scribbling at my writing desk, I now present to you my first book, Camellia Station: a romance novel about a train stewardess who falls in love with a traveling architect.”

He cleared his throat once more, and then began the reading.

“Chapter One.

“‘Your ticket, sir?’ Ticket collector Gozman extended a gloved hand towards the young commuter.

“‘Ah, yes. I have it right here,’ he replied, reaching into his coat pocket. Mortified, he discovered that the ticket was missing…”

Achilles, obviously familiar with the story, leaned back in his chair and sipped his hot chocolate. The most stressful part of the evening was over. Elliott had made it through to the reading alive, all the chairs—and then some—were filled, the refreshments had been warmly received by all except maybe Shane, and the silent auction had been a smashing success. Nice.

He found himself only half-listening to Elliott’s crooning tenor. Not because he was bored—no, he was very much proud of his friend and had genuinely admired the tomb of a novel—but he had only just finished reading it scarcely a week ago, and steamy romances and wicked love triangles had never quite captured his attention the same way genre did—funny, really, given how he’d been unable to stop replaying his own little romance in his head since this morning.

His fingers flexed at the memories, curled tighter around his paper cup.

But despite his drifting thoughts, he made sure to maintain both a smile and eye contact over the next half hour, just in case Elliott happened to glance over—though at the moment, the writer seemed a little too enthusiastically engrossed with the task at hand. Though his voice remained strong and strident, Elliott’s nose remained scarcely three inches from the page.

“‘…Clara, there’s something I must tell you,’ he blurted as she turned to leave. Clara turned, slowly, and saw the look of desperation in Horatio’s eye. At that moment, Gozman burst into the compartment, red-faced.”

After a solemn pause, Elliott closed the manuscript rather abruptly, though the applause drowned out the brusque snap of the pages.

“Well, that concludes my reading. Thank you everyone for coming out. Let us hope that we see Camellia Station on a bookshelf in Zuzu City within the next few years!”

And though it was Achilles who led the standing ovation, the sight of the enthusiastic, thirty some crowd clapping away for his friend seemed to be contaminating his pride for Elliott with something akin to… envy.

This could’ve been you.

But he felt Leah’s hand on his shoulder, and her simple touch was enough this time to pull him back to shore.

*****

“I have dedicated the book to you two, my dearest friends.” As the audience slowly dispersed, Elliott made his way over to where Achilles and Leah had been sitting in the corner.

He took each of their hands in his. “Without your support and encouragement this past year, who knows if Camellia Station would have ever… shall we say, left the station.” He solemnly placed a hand over his heart and gave them each a deep bow.

“We’re very proud of you,” Achilles said before Leah could swoop in with what he imagined would be a sarcastic comment of the highest degree. Let’s not lead with that. “Your reading was fantastic—you should record your own audiobook.”

Elliott turned red, patting Achilles’ hand as he shook his head modestly. “Oh my, you do honor me, my friend—let us not get ahead of ourselves…”

“Stop talking to us,” Leah hissed in a carrying whisper. She tilted her head at a handful of admirers who were beginning to congregate by the podium, each tossing the occasional impatient glance at the huddled trio. She proceeded to give the writer a hearty shove with her shoulder. “Go mingle with your new fans. Could be an agent in there somewhere! Schmooze!”

“Oh ho!” Elliott’s eyes gleamed as he snuck a covert peek at a particular suited stranger. He straightened his tie and stood confidently to his full, looming height—the well-received reading had clearly renewed his sense of vigor. “Then I shall pay them a visit posthaste—but oh ho, I believe there’s someone waiting to speak with you, as well, my dear friend.” Elliott ended his declaration with a devilish wink, nodding to something behind Achilles before striding over to the small waiting crowd of well-wishers.

Achilles turned to see Alex waiting patiently alone, munching thoughtfully on a small stack of finger sandwiches by the first row of seats.

Leah grunted. Less eloquent than Elliott, she merely smacked Achilles’ ass before leaving him for the refreshments table. “Go get that boy of yours.”

Achilles hadn’t had a chance to update either of his friends about his recent developments, and yet even so, Leah hadn’t bothered keeping her voice down. Alex perked up upon hearing her quip and, after shoving the remaining three sandwiches rather inelegantly into his mouth (now don’t you go there, Achilles, don’t you think about that), brushed the crumbs off his hands and jumped to his feet.

“Am I 'that boy of yours?'”

Dear lord, was Alex batting his eyelashes?

This man…

He could feel himself blushing at Alex’s hypnotizing, long-lashed gaze. But refusing to further indulge this roguish little show, Achilles lightly shoved his laughing figure aside and turned away to nod at Shane who was seemingly attempting to surreptitiously pocket the remaining crab cakes.

“No, she was talking about Shane.”

“Oh yeah? Does Shane he's ya boy—”

“Want to help me pack up the food? You can take the rest of the sandwiches if you’d like.”

#llnks #stardew valley fic #stardew fanfic #stardew alex #stardew elliott #stardew oc #sdv alex #sdv elliott #sdv leah #sdv oc

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therecordchanger62279 · 5 months ago

Text

"I Drove Slash To the Car Show"

(or "It Seemed Like A Big Deal At The Time")

I suppose we could file this post under autobiography. I don’t really do that here as a rule. Whatever I choose to reveal about myself slips out in bits and pieces in the context of other subjects. But I worked in the retail record business for close to 30 years, and my first job out of high school was as a disc jockey at a small radio station in Ohio. The radio gig was ironic, really, because I don’t have the kind of personality where I would ever want to be in the spotlight. I picked radio because I loved music, and enjoyed playing it for people. But that’s not what radio is about – certainly not now, and it really wasn’t then either.

After about 9 months, I jettisoned my radio career for retail – specifically, the records side. I worked nearly 30 years either in record stores, or in record departments of big box stores. And in the course of doing that, I had several memorable brushes with celebrity. So, I thought I’d collect them all (or as many as I could remember) in this post. After all, this is my blog, and it’s probably going to be the only thing that survives me after I die. So why not get it on the permanent record?

I should say, first, that I never worked in a big city, so the celebrities here were not always household names. But there were a few who are or were at the time. My instructors at radio school were all local disc jockeys who had programs at stations in Dayton, Ohio where I attended school. Most are likely forgotten today. But before we graduated, the school brought famous Cincinnati Reds pitcher and broadcaster Waite Hoyt in to speak to us. He entertained us with stories from his long career in baseball and radio. And we shook hands before he left.

The next name was someone I actually worked for. The radio station where I was a disc jockey was WMVR AM/FM in Sidney, Ohio. That station was owned by an Ohio native, actor Dean Miller who was a member of the cast of a popular TV series called December Bride that ran from 1954-1959. I only met the man one time, and that came near the end of my tenure at the station. He showed up one morning for a staff “pep talk” designed to scare all of us into doing our jobs better so the station could be more successful. But it was the only station in a small town, and nobody was ever going to get rich from it – not the owner, and certainly not the employees. A DJ’s pay was beneath poverty level – even by the standards of 1976. In any case, his attitude towards all of us put me off, and as I’d already been considering leaving the radio business, I figured that might be the time to make my exit. Before the month was out, I moved on.

By 1982, I was an assistant manager for the National Record Mart chain in Toledo, Ohio training at the North Towne Square Mall location. There was a musician I worked with there for just a few weeks before he exited for a very successful career as a New Age musician. His name was Tim Story, and he left the same year he released his In Another Country album for a small independent label. Five years later he was recording for New Age giant Windham Hill Records. He's still active today, has a website, a social media presence, and his discography lists 50 titles to date. I didn’t know him well, but I do remember he was a really nice guy, and I enjoyed working with him. I’m happy he was able to make a career making music.

In 1985 I became the store manager at a National Record Mart store at the Salem Mall in Dayton, Ohio. There were two factors that were key to my several encounters with musicians while I was there. First, there was a very popular concert venue just up the street from the store named Hara Arena. In the 1960s, 70s, and 80s, most of the biggest names in Rock played there when they toured the country. The other factor was that several months into my tenure there, our store became a Billboard Reporter. What that meant was that Billboard magazine called the store weekly for a list of our best-selling albums, and singles. This was during the dark ages before Soundscan was introduced, and tracked sales electronically. We got sent all the new releases, and I spoke with countless marketing companies, and record label people each week about how their product was selling.

In the course of doing that I spoke on the phone with Ozzy Osbourne. He was calling stores to promote his live Tribute album to the late guitarist Randy Rhoads. At first, I was sure someone was pranking me, but it didn’t take long to realize it really was Ozzy on the line. (He was slurring every word.) It was brief. We exchanged pleasantries. He thanked the store for its support, and I told him we all loved the album, and played it daily in-store. I also spoke on the phone several times with singer-songwriter, guitarist Carla Olson who was working a part-time gig for an L.A. marketing company while recording, and touring with her band The Textones. I’d spoken to her a couple of times before she mentioned she was a musician, and when she told me her last name, I couldn’t believe it. She was very surprised that not only did I know her name, but I already owned her band’s first album. When the second was released, she autographed a copy, and sent it to me. She later went on to a solo career, working with both ex-Byrd Gene Clark, and ex-Stone Mick Taylor. She’s still touring, and recording today. Wonderful lady.

Dayton is famous mainly as the birthplace of The Wright Brothers. But Dayton also birthed some of the best, and most famous Funk and R&B musicians in the world. I was working at the store one morning in 1986 when Shirley Murdock walked up to the counter to buy some albums. I recognized her immediately because her debut, self-titled album on Elektra was one of our best-sellers. I confess to being a bit star-struck in the moment. Not only did we play her record in-store all the time, and loved it, but she was stunning to look at. I remember saying to her, “You’re Shirley Murdock aren’t you?” She shyly nodded she was, and I told her how much we all loved her record, and how well it was selling. She thanked me, and shook my hand. She couldn’t have been sweeter, and more unassuming. No star trip happening, and no ego either.

We had company conventions every summer in Pennsylvania, and there were always acts booked to play, as well as “meet and greet” sessions with musicians promoting their latest records. I met a number of them, of course, but the two I remember very well were Lyle Lovett, and Roy Buchanan. Lovett was there for his first album release on MCA. He was very shy, and I shook his hand, and told him I knew the album would do well. He asked me if I’d heard it already, and I had because the MCA rep in our area was promoting it as if Lovett was his best pal. He was surprised, and very happy to hear that.

Roy Buchanan was signed to blues label Alligator Records, and he’d been booked to play our convention to promote his When a Guitar Plays The Blues, his first album for Alligator. I didn’t actually meet Buchanan, but I was at a party the second night of the convention, and the managers were all mingling and trading stories with one another when Roy popped his head in, and asked, “Anybody got any blow?” You could’ve heard a pin drop. This wasn’t the NY or L.A. crowd. This was a group of managers from a Midwestern record store chain based in Pittsburgh. When he realized there was none of that particular drug to be had, he quickly ducked out. Played a great set, though. Maybe he found some after all?

In the summer of 1987, the best-selling album at the store was the second album, Pride, by the American-Danish hair metal band White Lion. Their label, Atlantic called to tell us the band would be in town to play Hara Arena, and asked if we would do a wall display to help promote the record, and the show. None of us were White Lion fans, and one evening I was working with one of my part-timers, and I put up the White Lion display behind the counter. The show was the next evening. Atlantic hadn’t given us much notice, and the part-timer I was working with objected to a display for such a second-rate, no talent hair metal band. But I told her we were doing the label a favor. Business was slow that night, and she was bored, and asked me if she could deface the poster? I said no, but after she told me what she had in mind, I let her do it. The poster was a B&W photo of the band with the name, and album cover in the corner. She took a black magic-marker, and painted each member with a lion’s nose, and mouth that aped the sketch on the album cover (Google it.) It looked great, and everybody got a good laugh out of it. But about an hour later in walked two guys who were certainly musicians, and as it turned out, were members of White Lion who were already in town. Bass player James LoMenzo, and drummer Greg D’Angelo spent some time browsing, and when they came to the counter, LoMenzo spotted the poster, and said, “Hey, why’d you guys mess up our poster?” And D’Angelo started laughing, and pointed out to LoMenzo that our in-house artist had made Lions of them. The lightbulb went on over LoMenzo’s considerable mane of hair, and both musicians thought we were paying tribute to them, and thanked us. Then they had the nerve to ask us for a discount! I told them that I wasn’t allowed to do that, and since their album was in the Top 10 nationwide that I was pretty sure they could afford them without the discount.

The next act of note at the venue up the street was the latest edition of Chrissie Hynde’s Pretenders. They were touring their Get Close album, and Hynde was making headlines for firing band members. By the time they played Dayton, a couple of them had been sacked already. Again, as was our custom, we put a display behind the counter to help promote the show and the record, and pacify the label. Feeling ornery one evening, I took a paper shopping bag from under the counter, got the scissors, and cut out small paper bags, and taped them over the heads of the two members depicted on the poster who’d gotten sacked. I was pretty certain Chrissie would not be visiting our store before the show. She was probably busy learning the names of her new bandmates. But a pair of Pretenders roadies did come in the night before the show, and spotted the poster. They both cracked up laughing, but warned us that if Chrissie did happen to stop by, she wouldn’t find it at all amusing. I left it up, and we never saw her. Good thing, too. My wife and I attended the show, and Iggy Pop opened. Pretenders came on, and someone spit on the stage and just missed Chrissie. She warned those down front that there’d be no more of that, or else. I always thought Chrissie Hynde could best even a killer one-on-one. I’m glad I never tangled with her.

Before I left NRM, I was given tickets from the Columbia Records rep to see ex-Bangle Susanna Hoffs open for ex-Eagle Don Henley at Riverbend in Cincinnati. There was a post-show “meet-and-greet” arranged, and I took a couple of CD booklets to have autographed. I did meet her, and spoke briefly with her. She signed the booklets, and then another fan snapped a photo of me with my arm around her waist (she was so tiny, my arm went almost completely around her). He told me to give him my address, and he’d send it to me after he had the roll developed. Of course, I never got it, and I’m sorry I didn’t take a camera along. She was gorgeous, and I’m still a fan all these years later.

By 1991, I was already working for a small indie shop in Dayton called Gem City Records. One Sunday morning I drove to our main location downtown for some supplies before we opened, and as I was leaving, Slash from Guns ‘N’ Roses came walking into the parking lot with a female on his arm, and he asked me, “Hey! Is the store open yet?” I turned to the store manager, and said, “Dale, Slash wants to know if the store is open yet?” Dale thought I was kidding until he saw Slash come walking up. Of course, he invited him in before opening so he could shop privately. Slash asked for a particular album, and Dale told him his store was out of stock, but I mentioned my store had it, and I offered to drive to get it for him. I was back within the half-hour, and a grateful Slash signed a copy of Use Your Illusion II for me. I was just about to leave when he asked me if I knew where the car show was being held. I said it was at the Convention Center a couple of blocks over, and as I was going that way, I’d be happy to drop him, and his lady friend. He thanked me, we got in, and I drove them to the car show. That night Guns ‘N’ Roses played The Nutter Center in Dayton. I was home. I didn’t hit him up for tickets. I wasn’t really a G ‘N’ R fan, but Slash was a good guitarist, and a very nice guy. And until I sold my maroon Mazda, from that day forward, I called it “The Slashmobile.” (A postscript to the story: when Dale ran Slash’s credit card for the stuff he bought, the card was declined. But he ran it through again a few days later, and it was approved. I guess his business manager was late paying the bills. And Slash’s real name is Saul Hudson. That wasn’t common knowledge at the time.)

In 1992, Mick Fleetwood was on hiatus from Fleetwood Mac, and he put a band together with Billy Thorpe, Billy Burnette, and Bekka Bramlett called The Zoo. They played a small club here in Dayton, and I went with a friend of mine. We took CD booklets for autographs, but weren’t certain the band would be available after the show. As it happened, though, Mick, and Bekka did come out and sign autographs, and posed for pictures. (I’d have posted them here, but I don’t have digital copies.) Mick was a real gentleman, and shook my hand, and thanked us for coming. One of the CD booklets I’d brought was an early Fleetwood Mac album with Peter Green. He was delighted to see that. Bekka Bramlett was a real sweetheart, signing autographs, and posing for pictures as well. Of course, she later was a member of Fleetwood Mac for one album. And, like her mother Bonnie, she was a belter, and could really sing.

I had a couple more surprises when I managed the music department at Borders Books and Music here in Dayton. We were getting ready to open the store by September, and a couple of weeks before, we were putting the finishing touches on things, and trying to get all the stock to the sales floor. The lady corporate had sent to supervise this process (called “the sort”) was named Jill Lyon. My boss happened to mention to me that Jill’s husband was coming to town to see her, and to be sure I had everything looking good in the record department. When I asked why he mentioned that, he told me he was sure Jill’s husband would want to do some browsing. I said, “Her husband? Who’s he?” And he told me her husband was Southside Johnny Lyon of Asbury Jukes fame. I was stunned. I had no idea our Jill Lyon was Johnny’s wife. I was a huge fan of The Jukes since their debut album nearly twenty years earlier. I had all their records, so this was a big deal to me. I did, indeed, get to meet him that day, and told him how much I loved his music, and that I’d been a fan since the beginning. He was very gracious, and friendly, told me my department looked great, and wished me well.

About a year later, still managing the records department at Borders, the store featured live music in our café every Friday night. As music manager, and manager-on-duty on Friday nights, it was my job to see to it that everything went as planned. The store’s manager in charge of planning those events had arranged for Randy Newman to appear as he was on the road doing a tour of retail stores promoting his Faust album. The rider in Randy’s contract had some pretty outrageous demands. It said we had to provide a small table with cheese and crackers, and some veggie snacks as well as bottled water for him! Oh, the horror!! No star trip for Randy Newman. No bowls of cocaine, or brown M&M’s removed from the M&M’s bowl. Just cheese and crackers, veggies, and water. Randy played a great set, sat at a table, and signed autographs, and there is a photo of me shaking his hand (again, no digital copy), and getting my Land of Dreams LP signed. He was surprised to see that, and said, “A vinyl record! Don’t see these much anymore. I miss vinyl.” And he graciously signed it.

My last encounter with a celebrity came once again by phone, and happened in 2003 when my record store days were nearly at an end. I was back at Gem City Records at the downtown store here in Dayton, and due to some turnover of personnel, I was now overseeing our Jazz department. As I was doing some of the buying for that department, I would often talk either with label reps, or promo guys about new releases. One day the phone rang, and the caller asked for our Jazz buyer. Dale handed me the phone, and the voice on the other end introduced himself as Joel Dorn, founder of the Jazz label 32 Records. I said, “Wait a minute. Are you the Joel Dorn?” And he said, “I am. Have you heard of me?” And I replied, “Of course. There isn’t a serious Jazz fan in the world who doesn’t know your name or your work.” He thanked me, and then proceeded to tell me about the new releases his label was releasing. It was a genuine honor to speak with this legend who’d worked with The Allman Brothers Band, Bette Midler, Max Roach, Herbie Mann, Mose Allison, and Rahsaan Roland Kirk among others, and won two Grammy Awards for his work with Roberta Flack. I was genuinely saddened when I heard he’d passed away just four years later.

All of these encounters were memorable ones, and nearly all of them make nice memories. I miss the record business. It was a great job while I had it, and I shudder to think what kind of drab work history I might’ve had if I’d gone down a different road. I guess I should’ve had kids so I’d be able to tell my grandchildren that I drove Slash to the car show.

#celebrity encounters

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