Synopsis: Alex is writing songs for All Time Low's "new" album, Dirty Work. Jack figures he'll help him out by writing his own song, but Alex isn't prepared for the memories this song brings up, and the feelings he'll have afterwards.
Author's Note; Kay, sorry if this sucks, but I'm pretty proud of it! I'm not sure if I'll continue it or not, it depends on if you guys like it! Please comment!
Alex’s POV
It was a plain, boring Saturday. I was back home in Baltimore, ready to take a couple of weeks off from touring; my voice was shot and I had a really fucking bad headache. It also didn’t help that I was trying to write new songs for our next album at the same time. But that’s how it works, being famous. You never really have time for a break, it’s just go go go, all the time.
Well, not really. There’s always a party to look forward to, and another hero to meet, which is pretty damn rad. I’m just really tired. With a sigh, I pull away from the desk I'm sitting at, leaving the messy piece of paper and whittled down pencil behind. All my song lyrics just didn’t fit, and I was running out of ideas. I laughed slightly at the last song I had come up with, something about eating Ramen in the rain and going to a zoo.
Yeah, I needed the break.
Walking to the kitchen, I pulled a glass out of the cabinet and filled it to the brim with water. I gulped it down gratefully, letting a few drops drip down my chin, cooling me off. Suddenly, I heard music drift up to me from the basement; someone was playing the guitar. Curious, I walked downstairs. I realized I didn’t recognize the song- it was pretty and upbeat, exactly the type of sound I was looking for. Quiet as a mouse, I traveled down the hall and towards the door the noise was coming from, not wanting whoever was playing to stop.
Peeking inside, I smiled brightly at the familiar face of Jack, scrunched up in concentration, guitar pick in his mouth as he wrote something down on a piece of paper. I remember suddenly that he said he was gonna chill here for a few days. I had nodded, not really paying attention, focussing mainly on my new songs. Then he started playing again, mumbling words under his breath. I strained my ears to pick up what he was saying.
“I’d drink a little too much, you’d offer me a ride. And I would offer you a t-shirt, and you’d stay another night...but you’re just a daydream away, wouldn’t know what to say if I had you. And I’ll keep you a daydream away, just watch from a safe place, so I never have to lose.” He smiles, clearly proud of himself, and writes down a few more things on his paper. Then, he sits for another moment, his hair falling into his face while he thinks. I feel my fingers twitch as they always do when his hair gets messy. Well, messier than usual. I just want to push that hair back into place, right where it goes, so it’s not hiding his eyes.
He frowns suddenly, his face looking a little sadder than before. Just as I am about to ask him what’s wrong, he picks up his guitar again, and says the next few lines a little louder.
“We never stood a chance out there...shooting love in real time. So we’ll take it over ice tonight, with a little salt and a little lime...” He fades off, setting the guitar down beside him, writing down the last lyrics before putting his head in his hands. His shaking shoulders let me know that he’s crying. I back away from the door; I wasn’t supposed to see this. It was clearly something personal. But I did. And now I know just what to do.
Practically running, I trip over my own feet as I rush to take my acoustic guitar from my room. I grab it and run back downstairs, towards the room Jack’s been crashing in. I struggle to remember what he was playing, but sure enough, the melody comes back to me. I pull the strap over my head and walk silently into the room, strumming on my guitar and singing what I heard of the chorus.
