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Bed Hair is Not a Fashion Statement - Two - 24/7

  • So, this is something I started coming up when we went away for a week. I started this in my notebook.

    Oh, and I'm calling it like it is: A shameless self-insert. :D. Gotta write to my fantasies, lol.

    Pierre was in love with her, but then she walked out of his life. He became a nasty shell of himself, and the band don't know what to do with him.

    Her world and his are on a collision course; whether it will end in peace remains to be seen.

    BED HAIR IS NOT A FASHION STATEMENT

    Zero

    December 2008
    Laval, QC
    Pierre?s Apartment

    ?Do you remember how we met??

    ?Hmm??

    He leaned down, brushing a lock of hair from my eyes. I could see the almost strained expression in his own as he met my weary gaze.

    ?How we met. Do you remember??

    My throat felt clogged as I stared into his deep stare, but, I nodded a little in response.

    I remembered very well how we had met. It had been in some bar in upper city Brisbane. I?d been very tipsy, which was highly unusual for me. My friend, Carly, had tried to get me to loosen up a bit after we?d seen his band in concert. And, Pierre had walked into the same bar. Somehow or other, I?d collided into him. I think he?d been standing at the bar, ordering himself a drink and I?d literally collapsed on a stool next to him.

    I didn?t really think I looked like an interesting prospect at the time. I was definitely not anyone?s idea of a good time; or at least that was my belief.

    I peeked up at him, and whispered, ?You were such a gentleman. I made such a fool of myself, though. Even though, I promised I wouldn?t act like a creepy teenie...?

    He chuckled low, that deep rumble that always sent tingles all through my body. I lowered my gaze to the hand that was resting lightly against my stomach. He was moving it in slow, gentle circles, his touch making me crave him all over again.

    Biting my lip, I sighed, looking up at him once more. He tilted his head to the side a serious expression in his eyes.

    ?You know I love you, right??

    I trembled, nodding my head more. ?I know, but...?

    His jaw tightened a pained cast to his features. He blinked several times, smearing his free hand over his face.

    ?I hate ?buts?.? His voice was hoarse, tensed.

    ?I?m sorry, Pierre. I really am.? Placing both my hands over his, I stilled his motions. He grimaced, but didn?t interrupt me. ?It?s just that, I need to get on with my life. I...I?ve realised that I practically put all my plans on hold when I met you.? I paused, peering up into his face; it was shuttered, impassive, giving nothing away.

    I went on. ?I mean, sure...I finished my science degree and, it?s been amazing...being with you...just...beautiful.? Squeezing at his hand, I took a deep breath. ?I...I can?t ignore what I want to do with my life, though...?

    Pierre?s head lowered; his face had darkened a considerable amount. I knew he wasn?t happy with what I was telling him. But, I was hoping he wouldn?t take it too hard. He made no move to say anything, giving me space to go on. I stared up at him, blinking, waiting for a heartbeat before continuing.

    ?Three years is a long time, for me at least. And, I know I?m only twenty-three. But, uh...? Halting, my voice shaking a little, I dropped my eyes, unable to finish the sentence.

    Pierre sighed. ?But, you have hopes and dreams too, eh??

    I was glad he knew me so well. It made this just a little easier to do. Lifting my head, I smiled at him, a mere twist of the lips.

    ?Exactly, and I?ve put them on hold long enough.?

    His brow furrowed in thought, his mouth flattening in a hard line.

    Stroking my hand along his arm, I waited for him to let me know how he felt about this. While I did, I looked around the room we were sitting in. It was a large, yet simple living space. The only grand, expensive, pieces in the room were an ornate black chandelier and a large grand piano. Everything else was basic, yet homey. Furniture and decor that wouldn?t have looked out of place in any home. Pierre wouldn?t have it any other way; he was all about making a home out of a house.

    Pierre cleared his throat, drawing my attention from the room. I glanced at him.

    ?So.? He hesitated; his voice was all gravel. ?We?re over. Is that what you?re telling me??

    I stared down at my hands. ?You make it sound like a bad thing.?

    Pierre snorted. ?Think about it, Marlz. We?ve been together three years, and you?ve never, never hinted that you were thinking this way.? The tone of his voice was confused, as if he didn?t quite understand my reasoning. I wondered why he thought that, though. I was sure I had at least mentioned wanting to go back to university at least once before.

    Shaking my head, I said, ?I?m sure I have. But, I guess maybe I was too subtle about it.?

    Pierre frowned, eyes narrowing on my face. He wasn?t pleased by my statement.

    ?I?m a guy. You need to be more explicit.?

    I laughed, rolling my eyes. ?Don?t be so insulting. You?re smarter than that, Pierre.?

    He took hold of my chin, turning it up so he could look in my eyes.

    ?It?s true though.?

    ?No, it?s not.? I pulled my face back. ?I hate those stereotypes, for real.? Slapping his arm, I shook my head at him again. Pierre groaned, though I had hardly even tapped his arm. He pretended that I?d really wounded him, clutching at his forearm.

    ?That hurt, babe...?

    I sat up, pushing his arm away from my body. ?Don?t be such a wuss.?

    He pouted at me, bottom lip sticking out.

    ?No,? I said, covering my eyes. ?Please don?t do that. It doesn?t make this any easier.? He knew I couldn?t ignore the pout. I heard him sigh heavily.

    ?Fuck, Marly. You?re gonna leave me. You?d think you?d at least try to lessen the blow.?

    The tone in his voice made me feel like the worst person in the world. I looked down at the floor, feeling the weight of his pain, as well as my own, bearing down between us. I had known this wasn?t going to be easy. But, I obviously hadn?t figured out how much it would hurt. I guess I?d just been too naive.

    Hunching my shoulders, I spoke in earnest to my lap. ?I won?t ever forget you. But...uh...I need to do this.?

    Pierre asked, in a gruff voice, ?What about me? What about what I need?? There was frustration there. I lifted my eyes. He glared at me. ?What if I need you here, right now??

    I shook my head. Pierre had never needed me. I didn?t think falling in love with someone fulfilled a need. A want perhaps, but never a need.

    ?You have your friends. The band. You?ll be heading off on tour soon, for God alone knows how long...?

    The band had toured on and off for the past year since their self-titled album was released in February. However, there had been large stints of time where they hadn?t, giving me time to finish my Science course, between legs. It was going to become more full-on, though, and I thought it would be best to leave before they did. Before they embarked on their massive world tour.

    Pierre wrapped an arm around my waist, tensing it a little. ?That doesn?t mean you have to leave. Can?t you study via correspondence?? He was grasping at straws now, a hopeless note giving him an edge. ??Cause that?s what you want to do, right? Study??

    I shook my head again; it felt as if that was all I?d been doing for the past hour.

    ?Pierre, I want to be a teacher. I can?t do that off campus. Not if I?m jetsetting with you.?

    He closed his eyes, pinching at the bridge of his nose; his breaths were ragged as he was evidently attempting to come to terms with everything. I stayed quiet, observing the many emotions that passed across his face. Pain, confusion, sorrow and anger warred over his features, making his brow crease and his lips tighten in a slash.

    After what felt like forever, he opened his eyes. Glowering at me, he asked, ?Why can?t you go to school here? There are plenty of places you could study to be a teacher at.?

    He was right, there was, but I needed to be with my family if I was studying. They could support me financially. I told Pierre as much; his face hardened.

    ?What are you saying? That I can?t do that for you??

    ?Pierre, no. I can?t expect you to do that. It wouldn?t be fair on you.? He opened his mouth to protest, but I stopped him. Pressing fingertips to his lips, I shook my head even more. ?Don?t argue. I?ve made up my mind. I?m going to move back in with my parents. They?ll be able to help me out while I do my course.?

    Pierre gave a slow nod. ?Where did you say they lived??

    ?Perth now. They moved two years ago, remember??

    He smirked, nuzzling into my hair. ?Didn?t we cancel a gig there??

    I rolled my eyes, even though he couldn?t see. ?Yeah, in October, and my younger brother was totally pissed off.?

    Pierre grunted into my hair. ?What was his name again??

    ?David.?

    ?Oh. Yeah, he has the same name as...David.?

    Giggling, I leaned into him more. ?Funny that.?

    He smiled, but I noticed that it didn?t quite reach his eyes. Sighing, I rested my cheek against his chest, just wanting to hear his heartbeat, wanting to be as close as I possibly could. I was trying to be strong, and having him close helped; but, I knew if I fell apart, Pierre would probably be able to use it as leverage and convince me to stay. And I knew I would not be able to resist him.

    Pierre stroked my hair, playing with the ends while resting his chin on the top of my head. Enveloping me in his arms, he held me close. We remained like that for awhile, until he broke the silence again, murmuring a hesitant question.

    ?So, when are you leaving??

    I swallowed hard. This was going to be difficult; I was already choking up and I knew I was dangerously close to tears. But, I couldn?t not answer him. Wiping the back of my hand over my face, I took several moments to compose myself. Pierre waited, more patient than I?d ever given him credit for.

    Finally, I dredged up the courage to answer. ?I...asked Pat to come in a couple of hours. My flight?s booked for tonight.?

    I peeked up at Pierre, and my heart ached as I saw the colour literally bleed out of his face. His eyes darkened so they appeared to be black, bottomless pits. Hurt radiated from their depths, practically blasting out at me in a rush of heat. I turned my head away, unable to bear the pain in his eyes.

    ?Dammit, two fucking hours?? Pierre snapped. He shifted me abruptly off his lap; I landed on the sofa with a slight bounce, blinking hard at him. He stood and began to pace in front of me.

    He was mad. I could tell by the set of his shoulders and the way his brows drew tight over his eyes. He glared at the floor, standing with his back to me. The muscles in the broad expanse were taut. Normally, I would have considered going over and offering him a back massage, but right now, I didn?t think anything would help.

    When he was like this, brooding, angry, it scared me a little. It wasn?t that he?d ever done anything in anger to be ashamed of, except jump to the wrong conclusion a few times. But, we?d both gotten upset and had stewed for days. They?d been easily sorted in the end, though. This time was different. I was leaving him and it was going to hurt like a bitch. I needed to find some way to ease his pain.

    ?Pierre...??

    He looked over his shoulder at me. ?Yeah?? His expression was guarded, revealing nothing.

    I rubbed my hands against my jeans before saying, ?I?m sorry. I had to book it as soon as possible, because I had a feeling you wouldn?t take this well.?

    Pierre growled, ?What do you mean? I?m doing fine.?

    I scoffed, ?Yeah, right.?

    His eyes took on a steely glint, and he squared his shoulders, jaw jutting out at me. ?I am. It wouldn?t worry me if you walked out the door right this very second.? He stared hard at me, gaze not wavering an inch. I knew that he was lying, though. It was killing him; I could see that right deep in his eyes. But, I said nothing to disabuse him of the notion.

    He cleared his throat, roughly. ?I s?pose you?re all packed??

    ?Yes. Just a couple of bags. All the big stuff, I already sent ahead of time.? Yes, I?d known for awhile I was going to return to Australia. I just hadn?t been game to tell Pierre.

    He nodded, averting his gaze to the floor again. Sitting, I observed him quietly, taking in his appearance, stamping his image onto my mind. I was afraid that I would slowly forget what he looked like. Granted when the band started touring again there would be plenty of pictures turning up on the main fan sites online, but it wouldn?t be the same. Having him in the same room as me was much more personal, and worth remembering.

    Pierre had grown his hair out, the deep brown waves not quite framing his face. It made him look younger, softer. He was wearing a long-sleeved black tee-shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. The ink on his left arm was on display and I gazed at it for a long moment. The image began to blur, and I realised tears were prickling at the corners of my eyes. Bending my head down, I wiped at them, trying to brush them away.

    I heard feet shuffling toward me, and then felt his large, warm hands, gripping my knees in a firm yet gentle hold.

    ?Marly??

    I peeked at him; Pierre looked back at me. Sniffling, I just stared at him for a second; then I threw my arms around his neck, burying my face in his hair. The tears that had been threatening began pouring from my eyes, down my face. He pulled me into his arms, the two of us ending on the floor. I cuddled into his body as close as I could, strangled sobs rising from my throat.

    He rubbed his palm in slow, sweeping motions at the small of my back, while murmuring sweet nothings in my ear.

    ?I?m sorry,? I repeated, over and over. I wished I could be stronger over my decision, but I still loved him so much that what I was doing caused an ache so profound that I felt my heart may spontaneously combust. But, I had to do this...

    Pierre rocked me as I cried into his chest, still whispering, his own voice grating, filled with pain. After my sobs began to subside, I sat back and just looked at him. He sighed, meeting my eyes.

    ?So.?

    ?Well...? We spoke at the same time.

    Pierre gave a sour laugh. ?You first.?

    I placed my right hand against his cheek; he ended up leaning into my touch. Stroking my fingers against the stubble, I said, ?I?m going to miss you...?

    Pierre blinked rapidly. ?You could call me, sometime.?

    ?No.? I had to veto that. ?I don?t think that?s a good idea. I...need this to be a clean break.? That might not seem to make much sense. After all, I could imagine the objections one could make to that. Why did I need to even break up with him, right? We could do the whole long distance thing. But, I just felt it would be easier this way.

    His jaw clenched, but he just nodded, even though I saw irritation flash in his eyes. ?Fine.? He rocked back on his heels then stood, looking down on me. ?When?s Pat getting here??

    I cast my eyes to the clock above the piano. ?An hour.?

    Pierre shoved his hands into his pockets, shifting on his feet. ?Right.?

    An awkward silence filled the room. Like the proverbial pink elephant. I could tell he had nothing more to say; or that he had no idea what else to say. His eyes were darting around the room, obviously avoiding meeting mine. I closed my eyes, breathing hard.

    Pierre spoke, then, without looking at me. ?I?m gonna go for a drive.?

    I looked at him. He made a face. ?I won?t be back before you go. So...um, have a safe trip.? He paused as if he was trying to think of more words, but then he shook himself, turned on his heel and walked out.

    I sat frozen for a moment, hearing his footsteps going toward the front door. Pushing to my feet, I rushed out after him.

    ?Pierre, wait!?

    He was at the key rack, grabbing the ones for his car. He swivelled his gaze back toward me.

    ?Yeah??

    Biting at my bottom lip, and rubbing my arms in a nervous gesture, I blurted out, ?Won?t you stay and wait with me??

    Pierre exhaled in a harsh breath. ?I can?t. I can?t be with you, right now. Just...uh...stay safe.?

    He gave me a brief look, then, after tucking his keys in his pocket, walked out the door. Out of my life. But how fitting was that? Because that was exactly what I was doing to him.

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on 09 May '10

So, this is something I started coming up when we went away for a week. I started this in my notebook.

Oh, and I'm calling it like it is: A shameless self-insert. :D. Gotta write to my fantasies, lol.

Pierre was in love with her, but then she walked out of his life. He became a nasty shell of himself, and the band don't know what to do with him.

Her world and his are on a collision course; whether it will end in peace remains to be seen.

BED HAIR IS NOT A FASHION STATEMENT

Zero

December 2008
Laval, QC
Pierre?s Apartment

?Do you remember how we met??

?Hmm??

He leaned down, brushing a lock of hair from my eyes. I could see the almost strained expression in his own as he met my weary gaze.

?How we met. Do you remember??

My throat felt clogged as I stared into his deep stare, but, I nodded a little in response.

I remembered very well how we had met. It had been in some bar in upper city Brisbane. I?d been very tipsy, which was highly unusual for me. My friend, Carly, had tried to get me to loosen up a bit after we?d seen his band in concert. And, Pierre had walked into the same bar. Somehow or other, I?d collided into him. I think he?d been standing at the bar, ordering himself a drink and I?d literally collapsed on a stool next to him.

I didn?t really think I looked like an interesting prospect at the time. I was definitely not anyone?s idea of a good time; or at least that was my belief.

I peeked up at him, and whispered, ?You were such a gentleman. I made such a fool of myself, though. Even though, I promised I wouldn?t act like a creepy teenie...?

He chuckled low, that deep rumble that always sent tingles all through my body. I lowered my gaze to the hand that was resting lightly against my stomach. He was moving it in slow, gentle circles, his touch making me crave him all over again.

Biting my lip, I sighed, looking up at him once more. He tilted his head to the side a serious expression in his eyes.

?You know I love you, right??

I trembled, nodding my head more. ?I know, but...?

His jaw tightened a pained cast to his features. He blinked several times, smearing his free hand over his face.

?I hate ?buts?.? His voice was hoarse, tensed.

?I?m sorry, Pierre. I really am.? Placing both my hands over his, I stilled his motions. He grimaced, but didn?t interrupt me. ?It?s just that, I need to get on with my life. I...I?ve realised that I practically put all my plans on hold when I met you.? I paused, peering up into his face; it was shuttered, impassive, giving nothing away.

I went on. ?I mean, sure...I finished my science degree and, it?s been amazing...being with you...just...beautiful.? Squeezing at his hand, I took a deep breath. ?I...I can?t ignore what I want to do with my life, though...?

Pierre?s head lowered; his face had darkened a considerable amount. I knew he wasn?t happy with what I was telling him. But, I was hoping he wouldn?t take it too hard. He made no move to say anything, giving me space to go on. I stared up at him, blinking, waiting for a heartbeat before continuing.

?Three years is a long time, for me at least. And, I know I?m only twenty-three. But, uh...? Halting, my voice shaking a little, I dropped my eyes, unable to finish the sentence.

Pierre sighed. ?But, you have hopes and dreams too, eh??

I was glad he knew me so well. It made this just a little easier to do. Lifting my head, I smiled at him, a mere twist of the lips.

?Exactly, and I?ve put them on hold long enough.?

His brow furrowed in thought, his mouth flattening in a hard line.

Stroking my hand along his arm, I waited for him to let me know how he felt about this. While I did, I looked around the room we were sitting in. It was a large, yet simple living space. The only grand, expensive, pieces in the room were an ornate black chandelier and a large grand piano. Everything else was basic, yet homey. Furniture and decor that wouldn?t have looked out of place in any home. Pierre wouldn?t have it any other way; he was all about making a home out of a house.

Pierre cleared his throat, drawing my attention from the room. I glanced at him.

?So.? He hesitated; his voice was all gravel. ?We?re over. Is that what you?re telling me??

I stared down at my hands. ?You make it sound like a bad thing.?

Pierre snorted. ?Think about it, Marlz. We?ve been together three years, and you?ve never, never hinted that you were thinking this way.? The tone of his voice was confused, as if he didn?t quite understand my reasoning. I wondered why he thought that, though. I was sure I had at least mentioned wanting to go back to university at least once before.

Shaking my head, I said, ?I?m sure I have. But, I guess maybe I was too subtle about it.?

Pierre frowned, eyes narrowing on my face. He wasn?t pleased by my statement.

?I?m a guy. You need to be more explicit.?

I laughed, rolling my eyes. ?Don?t be so insulting. You?re smarter than that, Pierre.?

He took hold of my chin, turning it up so he could look in my eyes.

?It?s true though.?

?No, it?s not.? I pulled my face back. ?I hate those stereotypes, for real.? Slapping his arm, I shook my head at him again. Pierre groaned, though I had hardly even tapped his arm. He pretended that I?d really wounded him, clutching at his forearm.

?That hurt, babe...?

I sat up, pushing his arm away from my body. ?Don?t be such a wuss.?

He pouted at me, bottom lip sticking out.

?No,? I said, covering my eyes. ?Please don?t do that. It doesn?t make this any easier.? He knew I couldn?t ignore the pout. I heard him sigh heavily.

?Fuck, Marly. You?re gonna leave me. You?d think you?d at least try to lessen the blow.?

The tone in his voice made me feel like the worst person in the world. I looked down at the floor, feeling the weight of his pain, as well as my own, bearing down between us. I had known this wasn?t going to be easy. But, I obviously hadn?t figured out how much it would hurt. I guess I?d just been too naive.

Hunching my shoulders, I spoke in earnest to my lap. ?I won?t ever forget you. But...uh...I need to do this.?

Pierre asked, in a gruff voice, ?What about me? What about what I need?? There was frustration there. I lifted my eyes. He glared at me. ?What if I need you here, right now??

I shook my head. Pierre had never needed me. I didn?t think falling in love with someone fulfilled a need. A want perhaps, but never a need.

?You have your friends. The band. You?ll be heading off on tour soon, for God alone knows how long...?

The band had toured on and off for the past year since their self-titled album was released in February. However, there had been large stints of time where they hadn?t, giving me time to finish my Science course, between legs. It was going to become more full-on, though, and I thought it would be best to leave before they did. Before they embarked on their massive world tour.

Pierre wrapped an arm around my waist, tensing it a little. ?That doesn?t mean you have to leave. Can?t you study via correspondence?? He was grasping at straws now, a hopeless note giving him an edge. ??Cause that?s what you want to do, right? Study??

I shook my head again; it felt as if that was all I?d been doing for the past hour.

?Pierre, I want to be a teacher. I can?t do that off campus. Not if I?m jetsetting with you.?

He closed his eyes, pinching at the bridge of his nose; his breaths were ragged as he was evidently attempting to come to terms with everything. I stayed quiet, observing the many emotions that passed across his face. Pain, confusion, sorrow and anger warred over his features, making his brow crease and his lips tighten in a slash.

After what felt like forever, he opened his eyes. Glowering at me, he asked, ?Why can?t you go to school here? There are plenty of places you could study to be a teacher at.?

He was right, there was, but I needed to be with my family if I was studying. They could support me financially. I told Pierre as much; his face hardened.

?What are you saying? That I can?t do that for you??

?Pierre, no. I can?t expect you to do that. It wouldn?t be fair on you.? He opened his mouth to protest, but I stopped him. Pressing fingertips to his lips, I shook my head even more. ?Don?t argue. I?ve made up my mind. I?m going to move back in with my parents. They?ll be able to help me out while I do my course.?

Pierre gave a slow nod. ?Where did you say they lived??

?Perth now. They moved two years ago, remember??

He smirked, nuzzling into my hair. ?Didn?t we cancel a gig there??

I rolled my eyes, even though he couldn?t see. ?Yeah, in October, and my younger brother was totally pissed off.?

Pierre grunted into my hair. ?What was his name again??

?David.?

?Oh. Yeah, he has the same name as...David.?

Giggling, I leaned into him more. ?Funny that.?

He smiled, but I noticed that it didn?t quite reach his eyes. Sighing, I rested my cheek against his chest, just wanting to hear his heartbeat, wanting to be as close as I possibly could. I was trying to be strong, and having him close helped; but, I knew if I fell apart, Pierre would probably be able to use it as leverage and convince me to stay. And I knew I would not be able to resist him.

Pierre stroked my hair, playing with the ends while resting his chin on the top of my head. Enveloping me in his arms, he held me close. We remained like that for awhile, until he broke the silence again, murmuring a hesitant question.

?So, when are you leaving??

I swallowed hard. This was going to be difficult; I was already choking up and I knew I was dangerously close to tears. But, I couldn?t not answer him. Wiping the back of my hand over my face, I took several moments to compose myself. Pierre waited, more patient than I?d ever given him credit for.

Finally, I dredged up the courage to answer. ?I...asked Pat to come in a couple of hours. My flight?s booked for tonight.?

I peeked up at Pierre, and my heart ached as I saw the colour literally bleed out of his face. His eyes darkened so they appeared to be black, bottomless pits. Hurt radiated from their depths, practically blasting out at me in a rush of heat. I turned my head away, unable to bear the pain in his eyes.

?Dammit, two fucking hours?? Pierre snapped. He shifted me abruptly off his lap; I landed on the sofa with a slight bounce, blinking hard at him. He stood and began to pace in front of me.

He was mad. I could tell by the set of his shoulders and the way his brows drew tight over his eyes. He glared at the floor, standing with his back to me. The muscles in the broad expanse were taut. Normally, I would have considered going over and offering him a back massage, but right now, I didn?t think anything would help.

When he was like this, brooding, angry, it scared me a little. It wasn?t that he?d ever done anything in anger to be ashamed of, except jump to the wrong conclusion a few times. But, we?d both gotten upset and had stewed for days. They?d been easily sorted in the end, though. This time was different. I was leaving him and it was going to hurt like a bitch. I needed to find some way to ease his pain.

?Pierre...??

He looked over his shoulder at me. ?Yeah?? His expression was guarded, revealing nothing.

I rubbed my hands against my jeans before saying, ?I?m sorry. I had to book it as soon as possible, because I had a feeling you wouldn?t take this well.?

Pierre growled, ?What do you mean? I?m doing fine.?

I scoffed, ?Yeah, right.?

His eyes took on a steely glint, and he squared his shoulders, jaw jutting out at me. ?I am. It wouldn?t worry me if you walked out the door right this very second.? He stared hard at me, gaze not wavering an inch. I knew that he was lying, though. It was killing him; I could see that right deep in his eyes. But, I said nothing to disabuse him of the notion.

He cleared his throat, roughly. ?I s?pose you?re all packed??

?Yes. Just a couple of bags. All the big stuff, I already sent ahead of time.? Yes, I?d known for awhile I was going to return to Australia. I just hadn?t been game to tell Pierre.

He nodded, averting his gaze to the floor again. Sitting, I observed him quietly, taking in his appearance, stamping his image onto my mind. I was afraid that I would slowly forget what he looked like. Granted when the band started touring again there would be plenty of pictures turning up on the main fan sites online, but it wouldn?t be the same. Having him in the same room as me was much more personal, and worth remembering.

Pierre had grown his hair out, the deep brown waves not quite framing his face. It made him look younger, softer. He was wearing a long-sleeved black tee-shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. The ink on his left arm was on display and I gazed at it for a long moment. The image began to blur, and I realised tears were prickling at the corners of my eyes. Bending my head down, I wiped at them, trying to brush them away.

I heard feet shuffling toward me, and then felt his large, warm hands, gripping my knees in a firm yet gentle hold.

?Marly??

I peeked at him; Pierre looked back at me. Sniffling, I just stared at him for a second; then I threw my arms around his neck, burying my face in his hair. The tears that had been threatening began pouring from my eyes, down my face. He pulled me into his arms, the two of us ending on the floor. I cuddled into his body as close as I could, strangled sobs rising from my throat.

He rubbed his palm in slow, sweeping motions at the small of my back, while murmuring sweet nothings in my ear.

?I?m sorry,? I repeated, over and over. I wished I could be stronger over my decision, but I still loved him so much that what I was doing caused an ache so profound that I felt my heart may spontaneously combust. But, I had to do this...

Pierre rocked me as I cried into his chest, still whispering, his own voice grating, filled with pain. After my sobs began to subside, I sat back and just looked at him. He sighed, meeting my eyes.

?So.?

?Well...? We spoke at the same time.

Pierre gave a sour laugh. ?You first.?

I placed my right hand against his cheek; he ended up leaning into my touch. Stroking my fingers against the stubble, I said, ?I?m going to miss you...?

Pierre blinked rapidly. ?You could call me, sometime.?

?No.? I had to veto that. ?I don?t think that?s a good idea. I...need this to be a clean break.? That might not seem to make much sense. After all, I could imagine the objections one could make to that. Why did I need to even break up with him, right? We could do the whole long distance thing. But, I just felt it would be easier this way.

His jaw clenched, but he just nodded, even though I saw irritation flash in his eyes. ?Fine.? He rocked back on his heels then stood, looking down on me. ?When?s Pat getting here??

I cast my eyes to the clock above the piano. ?An hour.?

Pierre shoved his hands into his pockets, shifting on his feet. ?Right.?

An awkward silence filled the room. Like the proverbial pink elephant. I could tell he had nothing more to say; or that he had no idea what else to say. His eyes were darting around the room, obviously avoiding meeting mine. I closed my eyes, breathing hard.

Pierre spoke, then, without looking at me. ?I?m gonna go for a drive.?

I looked at him. He made a face. ?I won?t be back before you go. So...um, have a safe trip.? He paused as if he was trying to think of more words, but then he shook himself, turned on his heel and walked out.

I sat frozen for a moment, hearing his footsteps going toward the front door. Pushing to my feet, I rushed out after him.

?Pierre, wait!?

He was at the key rack, grabbing the ones for his car. He swivelled his gaze back toward me.

?Yeah??

Biting at my bottom lip, and rubbing my arms in a nervous gesture, I blurted out, ?Won?t you stay and wait with me??

Pierre exhaled in a harsh breath. ?I can?t. I can?t be with you, right now. Just...uh...stay safe.?

He gave me a brief look, then, after tucking his keys in his pocket, walked out the door. Out of my life. But how fitting was that? Because that was exactly what I was doing to him.

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CUSTOM COMMENTS

Why is she leaving! This is sad :(

kate18
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Because she wants to study to become a teacher, back home in Australia. She says that much, at least.

evilpierreowns
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I still think she should stay :(

kate18
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Pierre thinks so too...:( Poor Piebear

evilpierreowns
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uh uh :(

kate18
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I've only got half of chapter one written, though, the rest of the story is going to be set mainly two years after the prologue.

evilpierreowns
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Ahh okay

kate18
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Finally got a title and banner, also reposted part zero :D Edited a bit, so go read it again ;).

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I really like it!!! But this chapter is so sad ='(
Can't wait to read the new chapter ^^

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She still leaves! This is still sad! :(

kate18
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Lol sorry. I wasnt going to change that.

Thanks for commenting both of you. Next chapter will probably up in the next few days.

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yays cant wait! :)

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And here it is!

One

April 2010
Perth, WA

Dear Diary,

You know what I don?t like? Sitting around, twiddling my thumbs and having to wait for work to come to me. I know I should be proactive, but when work doesn?t exist it?s a little difficult to be all gung ho over it. My parents have been complaining, but come on, you have to blame the government, don?t you? And, the media. All the hype last year about not having enough teachers has turned into just as much hype about not enough students. I wish they?d make up their minds.

Luckily, I?ve managed to secure a casual position at the Association of Science Teachers. Not ideal, but at least I don?t have to scab off my parents for fuel money. And I can pay for my own car insurance. Whoop-dee-do. That?s all small potatoes, though.

I can?t believe I?m writing this down; I?m such a boring person. Then again, I guess no one is going to be sticking their noses? into my journal, are they? I mean, the ramblings of an average Australian woman who doesn?t have a spectacular life aren?t going to interest anyone in particular. Of course, in my opinion, it?s been a pretty speccy life, so far. But, doesn?t everyone think that about their own lives, no matter how ordinary they are?

Okay, so I?m not being entirely honest am I? But, my life is ordinary now. Let?s just forget about that three year period where I was not living at home in a normal suburban bungalow. I mean, not that it was bad...just...well, I?ve compartmentalised that part of my life to be treasured in my own private moments, too private even for this journal.

Anyway. After graduating last year, I was hoping that I?d get a job, quick smart. It didn?t happen, though. Which just sucks. But, that?s life for you. Well, at least it would be, except that ever since coming home, I?ve become more serious about my life. Or, to be more exact, my spiritual life. Which naturally translates to me going to church regularly.

I?ve found this great church in the city that?s just the right fit with where I?m at, right now. I?m not new to this. I was raised in the belief, but I wasn?t really serious about it. It?s kind of ironic my science degree was the catalyst that made me start thinking on it more. That was a few years ago, though. It just sort of came back to me in the last year. I guess that makes me a weird Christian.

Not that any of that matters to anyone, but me. Anywho, I have to stop here. The phone just rang. It was Mercy School asking to see if I can come in and do some relief. High maintenance teenaged kids, here I come...

~~~~~~~~~~

The traffic was unbelievable heading down Reid Highway. It was as if it were conspiring to make me late to school. It reminded me of one time when I had been in the van with the guys on the way to a show in Laval. The city wasn?t normally known for major jams, not like here in Perth. But, that one time it had been insane. Not until after we had arrived at the venue did we find out that there had been a massive prang right on the main highway.

The guys, being the generous young men they were, had cruised through the gig, and then spent the rest of the night trying to get details on the incident. Then they promised donations to the victims of the crash. I guess that whole road safety thing they had going on with their video for ?Untitled? was still having lasting effects.

HONK!

I looked over my shoulder, just as an impatient tradey swerved around me, hollering abuse at my closed window. I fought the urge to roll my eyes. It wouldn?t make any difference to the way I felt, and the tradey wouldn?t even see it. Though, he used to say it made him lose some of the weight from his shoulders. But, then, he was a singer in a band...he had been a little cocky with it.

I slid through the school gates that thought being brushed aside by those of the approaching day. Nodding my head to several students as I parked, I then made my way to the relief office. Mr Browne, the co-ordinator, was already at his desk, dangling my keys and class files.

?Morning, Marly.? He smiled a warm expression that I was always grateful to see every time I came in. He reminded me of my grandpa, actually. An older man, with a lot of wisdom sparkling out of very clear brown eyes, he had that sort of trustworthy air that you knew you could count on all the time.

?Morning.? I leaned against the edge of the desk, smiling back at him. ?Who am I today??

He grinned. ?You?re Mark today. He?s in all day, but he had a heap of marking to do. Oh, and he has to write some submission for that NOVA contest.? He held the files out to me. I took them, flipping through them to see which classes were there.

?For his band, right?? I asked as I counted the classes. There were five today, and one yard duty.

?Yes.? Mr Browne nodded, handing me the key. ?Anyway, he said if you need anything you can ask him. He?s in the staffroom, now. Or he?ll be in the Year Eight or Science office during the day.?

?Great.? I hung the lanyard around my neck, the key dangling. ?Well, have a good day.?

Mr Browne smiled more. ?You too.?

I left the office and made my way to the staffroom.

?Miss! Miss!?

I was about to reach for the door when I heard a student coming up next to me. Glancing to my side, I recognised one of the Grade Ten girls. Sian, I think her name was. She was one of the more outgoing of the students in one of the Science classes I subbed. She was always trying to get me to tell her my life story, and made me feel like a teenager again, myself.

I smiled at her. ?Morning, Sian??

She smiled, acting as if she were shocked. ?You remembered my name.?

I pretended to look offended. ?I?ve been doing relief here for how long now??

?Almost one term, miss,? Sian gave a bright grin, bouncing a little on the balls of her shoes. She was clutching a pile of folders to her breasts. ?Anyway, guess what??

?What?? I moved aside as the door opened and some teachers came out. I nodded to them while keeping one ear on the student.

?Mr Ross told us you were coming in to take our Science lesson, today.?

Mr Ross, Mark, the teacher I was being today. Trust him to tell his Year Ten class I was taking them. He knew I liked that class the best.

Nodding, I smirked. ?Yes, I am.? I glanced at my files. ?I think I have you guys last today.?

Sian kept smiling at me. I had to a laugh a little. She grinned, a bit more, and then bounced off with a chirpy ?See you later, Miss?. Shaking my head, I headed into the staffroom.

* * * * *

?Marly.?

I looked up from my schedule to see Mark standing there, smiling down at me. He?s not what you?d call classically handsome. For a start, he?s a red head with quite pale skin. But, his eyes were the most stunning part of his anatomy. His irises were the most unusual shade of hazel, with little flecks of green and brown. They?re what attracted me to him the first time I met him. That and his infectious grin.

?Hey, how?re you?? I sat back, slipping the paper into my file.

Mark took the seat opposite mine; resting his elbows against the table we were seated at. He took several moments before he answered, seeming to choose his words carefully. ?My band?s playing tonight at Irish Flynn?s in Yokine. You know the place??

I nodded slowly; I went there a lot with my girlfriends. ?Yes, it?s just down from K?s place.?

?Yeah, anyway, was wondering if you wanted to come down and watch. It?s Friday...? He lifted his eyebrows at me. As if that would be enough to convince me.

I retorted, ?Thank God for Friday?s, eh??

Mark chuckled, absently playing with the cuffs of his shirtsleeves. He was endearing like that. Always fiddling with his clothing. He always looked good too. Even though he was wearing what he called his ?school uniform?. I wanted to adjust his tie, though. It was slightly skewiff. I had to tear my eyes away before he thought I was staring at him; refocussing my gaze on the notes in front of me, I heaved a sigh.

He looked at me. ?So, what about it? Going to come along??

Nodding, I gathered my things together just as the bell rang. ?Of course. I?ll be there. Was kind of wondering what I was going to do tonight.? Because, I rarely did anything on Friday nights. It was usually the one night I reserved for myself, a book and steaming mug of tea my usual companions.

But, hey...I was doing this for myself right? Or maybe I was doing it for Mark. What did it matter? Knowing Mark?s band, it would be a very good night. And I deserved to treat myself every now and again.

Mark smiled gratefully, waving at me as I made the return trip to the door and out into the mass of students that were rushing to get to their first class of the day.

* * * * *

Irish Flynn?s was packed. I don?t think I?ve ever seen the pub so busy before. Then, again, I don?t usually come here on a Friday night.

Usually they have some form of live entertainment and tonight the place was buzzing with expectation. I believe they haven?t had a band of the likes which Mark?s is. I?m not quite sure how you would categorise his band. I asked some of the students in his classes, earlier in the day. I think some of them were surprised that I was even interested in ?Mr Ross?s? band. Not that they really knew anything of my music tastes. Except for Sian who figured out that I was a Simple Plan fan, thanks to an unobtrusive sticker on my diary.

Anyway, it?s not easy to categorise Mark?s band, and the students told me this much. One girl even went so far to accuse me of pigeon-holing the band and said I was crazy if I thought that was important. I didn?t argue with the girl, after all I?d had plenty of experience with a band who didn?t like to be put in a box.

Also, with a name like Fools Rush In, it didn?t add any easy pointers to what they could be. An Elvis Presley tribute band for all anyone could discern from just seeing the band name. But, Mark would instantly disabuse anyone of that notion. He?s not a huge Elvis fan. Neither am I, to be honest. I wasn?t really ever much for the crooning style. Though, I admit that the many covers that I?d heard were pleasing enough to the ear, especially if sung by my favourite singers.

Not that I had many favourite singers. I think I could count them on one hand. Mark was one of them, as well as several well known Australian vocalists, including Kav Temperley of Eskimo Joe and John Farnham...of no band at all. Then there was him. But, I didn?t think of him too often for fear of allowing a set of emotions I didn?t want to give into, to run their gamut.

?Hey, you?re Mark?s mystery girl??

I glanced back over my shoulder, searching out the owner of the voice that had just spoken to me. A young woman with bright green eyes ? they had to be contacts ? stood to the right of the table I had secured. Bianca. The band?s new guitarist. I turned, smiling at her.

?I?m not anyone?s girl, let alone Mark?s mystery one,? I said with a soft laugh.

She tilted her head to the side, causing her shoulder-length hair to brush against her shoulders. ?Mind if I join you? The guys are busy sound-checking.?

?Shouldn?t you be up there with them?? I asked in return.

Bianca pretended to look miffed. ?They call themselves professionals, but they take forever. I was done in less than five minutes.? There was obvious affection in her tone, which was evidence enough for me that she really cared for the other guys in the band.

I smirked. ?Well, pull up a chair, then.?

She did as I invited, propping her elbows against the table. ?So, you know Mark from school??

Smiling at the way she instantly returned to her interrogatory mode, I answered, ?Yeah. I do relief at the school he teaches at.? I shrugged. ?There?s no permanent teaching work going around. And at any rate, I haven?t been out of uni that long.?

Bianca nodded, rocking absently on her chair. ?Mark said you were smart.? She giggled, ?What?re you doing at a gig like this??

I felt a flush of heat bloom on my cheeks and ducked my head down. Gripping my handbag, which was still on my lap, I felt suddenly self-conscious. There was a pause for a moment, and then she laughed the tone warm.

?Aww, geeze...there I go...embarrassing you. I?m sorry. Mark said to go easy on you.?

I blinked, looking up at her. ?Whatever for?? That surprised me. I wondered why he would suggest such a thing.

Bianca?s lips, they were painted a pale pink, curved up as she regarded me with a knowing look. ?He said you were probably not used to this kind of scene.?

I found myself resisting the urge to roll my eyes for the second time that day. Mark had no idea at all, did he? But that was my doing. I hadn?t told him about my past. At least not the part about having been with the lead singer of Simple Plan for three years. I just hadn?t felt compelled to mention that to anyone, apart from those who were closest to me. And, even though he was quite close in a collegiate kind of way, it was still more of a professional relationship than a personal one.

?It?s cool.? I shot a reassuring smile her way. ?I guess I?ll get used to it.?

Bianca grinned so hard, I thought her cheeks might crack. ?Oh, goody. Does that mean you?ll come again??

I couldn?t help but smile back at her. ?Hmmm, I?ll see how well you guys play first.?

She laughed some more. ?There I go again, shooting myself in the foot. Of course you have to see if you actually like us.?

I already did like the band. Mark had played me some of their music one lunch time at school. It was different to what I was used to listening to, but at the same time it was something fresh and new to my ears, and that was enough for me to become a tentative fan.

Leaning against the table, I said, ?I?m sure you don?t have to worry about that.?

Bianca cocked her head at me, but then we both heard Mark calling out her name.

?You?d better go.?

?Shite I better go.? We both spoke at the same time. Then we both laughed. Bianca grinned as she sprang to her feet. ?Let me know what you think after.?

?Will do. If I?m still here,? I said, jokingly.

She pointed a finger at me. ?I?ll tell on you to Mark, if you?re not.?

Settling back on my seat, I waved her off toward the stage. I wasn?t too sure whether she were joking or not, but I knew she didn?t really need to be anxious about whether I?d do a runner, or not. I had nothing better to do with my time.

Bianca kept pointing at me as she waltzed away from my table. I just smiled in response, crossing my legs at the knees.

She joined the guys on the stage and leaned over to Mark to say something in his ear. I grinned and waved when she made him look where I was sitting. When his eyes met mine, he flashed a thumbs up my way then slung his bass over his shoulders as he prepared to greet the crowd. With that infectious grin, and his ?take me away from this life? voice, I knew that a lot of people would probably fall for the band tonight.

I knew for a fact that I?d probably be one of those people. But, who cared really? In all honesty, I was up for a change. And maybe that would bode well for my future.

evilpierreowns
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Aww so now she's a teacher....cool

She should be at that school permanently

That Mark guy seems nice...but she should still be with Pierre!

Love it :D

kate18
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Yep. I am. Without work...lol. Looking into something else though now.

Yeah...I wish. The school is based on a real school I've done relief at.

Mark IS nice. lol. He was a brand new teacher when I was doing my very first teaching practicuum back in 2007. Fools Rush In is a real band here in Western Aust.

But on the fic? I don't know about that ;) lol.

thankyou!

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I don't like Bianca :lol:
But Mark is really lovely!
So are you really a teacher?? *-*

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Bianca is a bit annoying...lol

Mark IS nice.

Well, I trained to be a science teacher...no jobs though, which sucks.

Thanks:)

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Two

Los Angeles, CA

?So. You?re telling me you scheduled a fucking promo tour to Australia without asking me how I felt about it? You know what?s doing down there.?

Pierre was fuming. Absolutely furious. He?d arrived at Chuck?s LA flat not half an hour ago, and the first thing his friend had said to him just as he was settling in for a drinking session was that the band was headed to Australia at the end of the month. Normally the announcement for some shows, or whatever, wouldn?t have even registered on Pierre?s radar other than the ?oh cool? type. However, this was much too close to home and he wasn?t pleased about it.

Chuck, who was leaning over his laptop, going over what looked like about a million emails, just shook his head and murmured, ?I know, man. But management says we need to do this.?

Pierre grunted, going over to the bar. ?What the fuck for??

His friend looked over at him. ?Promotion. Sales were down on the last album.?

?Yeah. So? I?m sure that?s the case in other countries.? Pierre grabbed a beer, cracking the lid, but not drinking from it. Instead he braced his elbows against the top of the bar and glared at Chuck.

When the drummer didn?t respond to his statement, Pierre added, roughly, ?Why Australia, man...? I don?t want to go there.?

Chuck tilted his head toward the singer. If he hadn?t known Pierre so well he would?ve brushed the question aside as an unimportant one. But he heard the pain that was buried deep beneath the nonchalance. He made no mention of it, though. Pierre was not one for airing his emotions. And Chuck was not going to be the one to dredge them out.

Instead, he said, ?Because it makes sense. Last time we went all out and did Brazil. And, apparently Australia is a little low on big music acts in the winter months, so... it?ll be cool.?

Pierre gave Chuck a weird look. ?I?m gonna chalk that comment up to the fact that you?re clearly insane.?

His friend just sniffed, closing his laptop and looking at him. Pierre raised his eyebrows back at him. Then he took a long pull at the bottle.

Chuck rolled his eyes. ?What?re you doing here, anyway??

Pierre paused, mid swig, and looked hard at his friend.

Chuck sighed, folding his arms and shaking his head. ?You don?t need to be here.?

There was a heavy pause after Chuck?s statement. He was right. There was no real reason for Pierre being there. It wasn?t like they had any songs to write, they were practically finished that part of the process. The band just had to book some time in the studio, and that was all Pierre was really worried about. But now, here was his best friend telling him he had made extra plans. Still, Chuck was right.

A little miffed, Pierre said, scathingly, ?So? You gonna kick me out??

Chuck stood, joining him at the bar. He didn?t answer straight away. Instead, going around the other side of the bench, he sorted through the empty bottles that were filling up the surface. They clinked together as he moved them to one side. Then, bracing his palms against the cleared space, he looked at his friend. Pierre raised his eyebrows, a challenge in his gaze.

?No,? Chuck finally stated. ?You can stay. I know how it is.?

?Oh, do you?? That edge was still in his voice. But, at the same time a hint of gratitude was there as well. Pierre and Chuck had been friends for too long to prevaricate. Explanation wasn?t ever really necessary.

Chuck just nodded, crossing his arms over his chest. Pierre groaned, walking back over to flop down on the couch. Tilting the bottle in his hand, he gazed down into the golden liquid, swirling it gently. His thoughts followed the same pattern of flow, spinning in a slow, steady motion, not really solidifying into anything coherent. He just stared into his beer, not moving, just attempting to relax.

Meanwhile, Chuck observed his friend in silence, wondering, not for the first time, what was going through his mind. Ever since she had left to go home to Australia, Pierre had changed. On the public side of things, he was still the same charming, personable lead singer, but on the private side...well it wasn?t really worth even thinking about how he?d become.

He drank more, for one, and he was extremely short with everyone, all the time. In fact, today was the first time he?d really spoken at any length to Chuck. Usually, he resorted to mere grunts and gestures.

It was aggravating at the best of times, but it could get downright unpleasant if Pierre had been getting plastered the night before. It was sheer luck that prevented the singer from completely bottoming out on them. It was either that or maybe just the fact he still had some sense.

?Pierre.? Chuck finally broke the quiet, unable to handle the singer?s brooding anymore than he already had.

Pierre forced his gaze from the beer he hadn?t drunk from since his first swig. ?Yeah??

?I?m sorry,? Chuck said, simply.

Pierre blinked then hefted his shoulders, shaking his head. ?It?s no big fucking deal. We?ll go to Australia. Have a ball. Come back and go into the studio.?

There was no enthusiasm in his voice, but that was to be expected. Nothing really excited him anymore. At least not as much as it used to. It wasn?t as if he?d become majorly depressed. Not to the point where people were suggesting he needed to see someone about it. He just moped about. And went on with doing the things he needed to do. Chuck wasn?t going to start worrying too much unless Pierre started to go into some deep decline. Until, or if, that ever eventuated then he would speak up. But for now, he wouldn?t let his friend?s attitude get to him.

Too much.

?Yes. About that,? Chuck said, rubbing at the back of his neck. Pierre lifted an eyebrow, prompting the drummer with a sharp look. ?I?ve been trying to book time in the studio for when we get back, and it?s looking pretty tight.?

Pierre shifted his body so he was facing his friend directly. Propping his bottle against his left knee, and bouncing his foot absently, he frowned.

?Tight as in??

?As in there?s only a small window of opportunity for us.?

?Meaning??

?Meaning we won?t get as much time as we did for the last one.? Chuck sighed. ?At least that?s the way it looks if we stick with the studio we usually use.?

His statement was met with silence from Pierre, which was filled with a whole lot of ?so what?? The expression on the singer?s face spoke volumes.

Chuck began rubbing at his left leg as he tried to qualify what he had just said.

But, Pierre got there first. ?There?s always other studios.? His tone was scathing. ?You can find another one. You?re good with shit like that.?

?That sounds more like an insult than a compliment.? Chuck grimaced.

Pierre snorted. ?I wasn?t complimenting you.?

?Well, there you go,? the drummer muttered, while looking anywhere but at his friend.

An uncomfortable silence settled between them, broken by nothing except their quiet breaths and the occasional slosh of the beer in Pierre?s bottle.

After awhile, Pierre got up and wandered into the next room where Chuck had his drum kit and a keyboard set up. Chuck frowned, tilting his head back to peer into the room.

Pierre set his bottle on top of the keyboard and, switching it on, began to play. He ran his fingers up and down the keys, lips pressing together in concentration. Random notes became a tentative melody as he considered each key he touched. Playing light runs he began to hum under his breath as the tune wandered from the lower register and into the mid-range.

Chuck appeared in the doorway, leaning against the doorframe. Pierre noticed him from the corner of his eye, but made no comment. He continued to play, mouth thinning into a hard line.

His friend sighed, shaking his head. ?How long?re you gonna keep this up??

Pierre rolled his eyes, but didn?t bother to answer. Instead, he intensified his performance, bringing his fingers down harder against the keys. Attacking each note, he was basically attempting to drown out the disapproving presence of his best friend. His visits to Chuck always seemed to end the same way. They?d have some banal argument about the band and then Pierre would escape to the keyboard and immerse himself in his music.

?Pierre, you can?t stay here...? Chuck started, but the phone rang, and the singer gave an inward groan of relief as the other man ducked out to answer it.

Pierre was about to start playing again when he heard Chuck mention a name, which caught his ear. Softening his touch on the keys, he listened into his friend?s side of the phone conversation, wondering who it was on the other end of the line.

?Carls, it?s great to hear from you...no it?s been almost four years. I know, too damn long.? Chuck?s voice paused for a moment, the only sound several ?mhms?. Then he went on. ?No, he hasn?t. No. What? For real? Good on her. So? She?s still with her parents?? Another pause. ?That?s good; she needs the support, right? Have you seen her in awhile...what? Wow, congratulations. I bet you make a great mom...so, no travelling for you, then? Right...?

Pierre?s jaw tightened, and something deep within stirred, making his stomach clench. And his heart to ache. An uncomfortable sensation sank to the pit of his stomach as he tasted bile in the back of his mouth. He shut his eyes and returned his focus to the keyboard, forcing his mind to shut out the rest of the conversation going on in the other room.

Chuck?s voice droned on in the background for awhile; Pierre started to play a series of scales, blocking out the surrounding sounds.

Several moments later, Chuck re-entered the room, a small smile on his lips.

?Hey, guess who that was??

Pierre looked up at him, not pausing in his playing, but allowing his eyes to narrow. ?Do I look like I give a shit??

Chuck didn?t seem fazed by his terse response. ?It was Carly. You know? We met her when we were in Brisbane, 2005.?

?Yeah,? Pierre retorted, ?like I?m going to remember someone we met five years ago, Charles.? Grabbing his beer he took another swig, savouring the bitter aftertaste as it slid down his throat.

Chuck sighed. ?Well, considering her name rhymes with-?

?Do not say her fucking name,? Pierre interrupted, his voice rough, his expression darkening. The drummer held up his hands in a placating gesture. Pierre just glared at him then shook his head angrily, looking back down at the keys, trailing a thumb over them.

?You don?t talk about her...just...? Pierre gritted his teeth and practically breathed the words out. ?I don?t want to hear her name.?

?Alright,? Chuck said. ?I get it.? He leaned in the doorway again, observing his friend in silence.

The singer went back to his playing, shrugging him off.

After a short time, Chuck left him alone, knowing that in the end the best option was to give him some space. Getting on Pierre?s nerves was never a good plan. Especially when he?d had a few drinks. He knew that when Pierre was ready he?d drag himself away from the keyboard and mooch around for another drink. Until then Chuck would keep out of his hair; he had things he needed to take care of at any rate.

Before a tour there was so much to sort out that he hardly had time to think straight. Having to deal with Pierre?s moods was not part of his official agenda. Of course, he didn?t really mind, after all that was what friends were for. Anyway, if he couldn?t support Pierre, who would?

Out of the guys he was the only one who was able to tolerate Pierre?s mood swings at any length. Even David who himself was a little mad at times couldn?t handle him.

Though, to be honest, Chuck wouldn?t change that fact for the world. He and Pierre had been friends too long for that to ever be an issue. Still it was, admittedly, a tad stressful. He would prefer that his friend wasn?t living the situation he was.

Chuck wished that he could make things better for Pierre, inject a bit of joy back into his life. Short of that, he at least wanted to make things easier for the singer. Give him something else to think about than the fact that he was living alone.

Hopefully, once all the plans were in place and the band got together to start rehearsing for the tour Pierre would come out of his funk, at least temporarily. Even if it were just so they could manage to get along while they were touring. And perhaps getting back into the music and performing would help Pierre take his mind off her.

Chuck could only hope that would be the case.

evilpierreowns
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Chuck's a very good friend :)

Not too sure it's a good thing they go back to Australia, since marly's there :?

kate18
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I agree with Kate but maybe it would be nice if they could meet again :)

joanne_86
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