Greta Van Fleet Imagines

world burn 2-jmk

Warning: There is some slander in here. I promise that I love the band equally and I would never, ever support an article like this. I feel like this goes without saying, but I don't want it to be take out of context. Also, a lot of the insults were taken from my friends and things that we've insulted each other with.

To say Josh was fuming was an understatement. After failing to convince him to stay away from your work, he demanded to see it. His heart ached when he got to your honest opinion of him. Tears formed in his eyes as he scanned the insults and honest opinions. Over the years, he learned how to deal with unhinged comments and unnecessary hate. He also knew the difference between criticism and anything else. He could feel hot tears running down his face as he looked away, trying to figure out why.

Sam was the last to read finish reading it. He was also inappropriately amused with the slander. "Listen to this," Sam laughed, beginning to read the article out loud.

As for sex with Josh. Ha! I promise that you will find something more satisfying written by a 15-year-old fan girl on the internet. Ladies, don't get your hopes up. He may be a rockstar on stage, but the sparks end when the curtain falls.

Jake snatched the phone from his younger brother's hands. "You're supposed to be helping, not reading him the fucking paper."

The three of them waited for Josh to make sound. He'd been sitting there, quietly crying to himself. They'd never seen him like this before. Jake placed a hand on his shoulder, pulling him back down.

"I'm going over there," Josh said.

"Not right now," said Danny. "Please. Just cool off for a minute and we'll talk to her together later."

Josh ignored his friend. He loudly pushed the door to the studio opening. Once he made it to your apartment, he had no idea what to do or say. He stood in the lobby for a minute before pressing the button beside your apartment number. The elevator opened, signaling that there was someone waiting for him.

Damon opened the door for him, looking a little confused. "I thought you were my delivery."

"Is Y/N here?" Josh looked for your purse or keys.

"She went to see her mom. I can leave a message." Damon shut the door. "You look... like you're going through something. Are you okay?"

Josh scoffed; a light chuckle thrown in. "She posted an article about me and she's not answering her phone."

You were still reeling at the loss of your mother. You always knew it was coming, but it did little to soften the blow.

The disease had begun years ago, slowly eating away at the woman who cared and loved you all your life. Even though you desperately wanted to return the favor when she was confined to her bed, all you could do was love her. Financially, you could take care of her, but there was no room. There was no way that Damon could leave, he had it too good with you and it was unfair to kick him out. She also refused to live in a dining room, taking up communal space. As a compromise, she moved into the care home the next town over, right in between both of your homes. You visited as often as you could, usually weekly.

Picking up everything after the funeral was worse than anything you'd ever encountered.

As if nothing happened, the facility already had someone else settled in her room. The box of personal items your mother kept with her were set outside the door like garbage. Everything that she was, all her memories, was watered down into seven scrapbooks and a box of trinkets she collected from her travels. Almost everything from your childhood home was gone, sold to strangers on the internet, given to friends, or put into donation bins. This was all she carried, and now you had them.