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And the black smoke rises From the fires we've been told
"We've never celebrated your birthday together," Jake commented, the observation distant and muffled as he rifled around in their shared closet for something to wear while Alex sat behind the antique vanity, applying her makeup in the three-way mirror.
She hadn't really thought about it before, but he was right. Her birthday had always managed to fall during...the in-between. "Yours either," she called, one eye closed as she attempted to apply the liquid eyeliner in a smooth enough swoop. "Granted, I'm kinda glad I missed the pyromania."
The Instagram photos were, well, rather telling. Whatever grown adults saw fit to give them lighters and aerosol cans must have been paid to do so, and those poor cardboard cutouts of themselves never stood a fighting chance against their more destructive tendencies.
Jake's body appeared inverted, standing in the doorway, and she allowed her eyes to trail over his shirtless frame in the reflection. "Babe, we're one with nature, and that includes the combustible elements," he stated, looking nearly offended by her lack of faith in their flame-throwing abilities, but she just stared blankly in return. "Whatever. The white or the blue?" He asked, lifting two long-sleeved button-ups for her to choose from.
Alex returned to dusting blush across both her cheeks and said, "you already know the answer." It was the blue. It was always the blue. She didn't know why he even bothered asking when the latter consistently guaranteed she'd be hastily pulling it off him later.
"I gave you the opportunity to behave yourself in public. Remember that," Jake smarted before disappearing back into the walk-in.
Like his shirt would have made even the slightest measure of a difference. What was it people said about rabbits? Lagomorpha comparisons aside, Alex excused it as making up for lost time-like a lot of lost time. And, a corner of her brain, which she tried not to scratch as best as she might, echoed that it wouldn't be this way forever.
This stagnant phase was, unfortunately, temporary and would be altogether fleeting. When things got sorted, the band would be back touring the new album before long, and these moments of solitude would be lost to a tide of indistinguishable cities, countless venues, and a sea of people pulling for his attention at all hours.
"You're overthinking. Stop it." She hadn't heard him shuffle across the carpet to stop at her side, but the unexpected statement, suddenly so close, made her jump.
Regrettably, he was fully dressed now, so the only skin left for her to gawk at were the forearms exposed beneath his rolled sleeves, and the expanse of chest left revealed by his ever unbuttoned shirt. "I wasn't overthinking," she argued without much conviction, distracting herself with applying mascara.
Mirror Jake didn't look like he believed her because his lips were pressed in an unamused line. "Yes, you were. You do that staring off thing when you get neurotic."
