I met you on accident/// Fack

but it's the only thing that makes me feel alive 💕

"LA?!" Finn gasped, his fingers tapping against the base of his guitar.

Ayla nodded her eyebrows furrowed at his reaction. "Do you have a problem with LA, Your Majesty?"

Finn scoffed, his annoyance slightly increasing, "no, dickwad."

Malcom sniggered, "well it seems like all you do is bitch nowadays." Jack (different jack) nodded in agreement while he strummed mindlessly on his guitar.

"You guys are dicks, you know what I've been going through," Finn growled, sitting up further on the couch he sat on.

Jack rolled his eyes and continued plucking at the strings, not bothering to continue the conversation. Ayla huffed, "just smoke."

"I don't want to," Finn mumbled, twiddling with his fingers.

Malcom groaned loudly and flopped dramatically back into the couch. "Well then it looks like you're just a little bitch then," he smirked. Finn turned a nose up to the boy and grumbled quietly to himself, he wasn't in the mood to smoke and he really wasn't in the mood to argue.

"Finn just take a drag already, you'll feel better after," Ayla smiled, her intoxicating voice attempting to manipulate her bandmate. It had been awhile since they had all smoked together.

Finn shook his head, he changed the topic, "whats in LA anyway?"

"We should be asking you that," Jack commented under his breath. Finn scowled at him but made no move to respond.

Malcom groaned, "a gig, that's what."

"A shitty one? Or an actual good one?"

Ayla rolled her eyes while she checked her nails for scratches and signs of worn. "What does it matter, as long as you keep up your punk boy attitude we'll get paid."

Finn scowled, "that isn't me and we all know it."

"And that kid from two years ago was? Finn you seem more alive now than you ever did before," Ayla spat, her eyes flashing dangerously at the curly haired boy.

"He was me."

"Then where is he now?" Malcom asked not bothering to look up from his phone.

Jack groaned loudly and pushed Malcom further away from him so he could sit up and talk to the curly haired boy. "Listen bitch boy, we're going to that concert. You're going to sing and play, I'm going to sing and play and we're gonna get our fucking money. I don't care what fucking happened to you in LA, you're gonna shut your fucking mouth and go." Finn's mouth clamped shut at that, his eyes glistened briefly with tears but he held them back while cursing himself for being so sensitive.

"Good job, Jack," Ayla giggled, her hands coming up to rub on her bottom plump lip. Finn watched in a blank manner, his own eyes refusing to leave the sight. Jack shrugged and continued to pluck and strum the guitar's strings.

What's in LA? Jack is in LA....

Finn took a shaky breath. He could feel the smoke leaving his lungs. His asthma screamed at him to cough and to quit but he didn't listen. If he turned up with lung cancer on his 56th birthday he wouldn't be surprised, it would be another thing he would deal with, except he'd lose it all this time. Jack.