- 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐝 𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒆, ( the movie : the book. )

chapter eight - awsten

that was the first night that awsten dreamt of otto wood. they woke up the next morning and had to ask their parents if they had gone to a job the previous evening, to which their mom said they passed out immediately after coming home.

it's embarrassing. well, it isn't, but it is. how is awsten supposed to rationalise dreaming about a boy they've barely met, let alone making out with him to the thought of their own band? it's almost pathetic, they think. they're pathetic, and they're laying in bed hating themselves for wanting someone so bad. especially, again, a borderline stranger. what did otto have that made awsten so susceptible to his magnetic force? it's something intangible, something unholy. the devil is pulling awsten towards someone who looks like an angel, and they're mad about it. they're mad at stupid otto for making awsten stupid. they're mad all the time, but this is a new type of angry.

awsten constantine knight often found themselves to be angry at anything and anyone, that being the fuel for the songs they wrote with their band and cry about when no one was around. they thought it's always been that way, or at least it seemed like it. their childhood was fuzzy and they don't remember a lot of details, but they'd scream ferociously and throw tantrums each and every time something hurt them. they never expressed hurt in the way people were supposed to, not at all. they'd yell and scream and take it out on whatever unfortunate soul made the mistake of asking awsten if they were alright when they'd silence their loud voice, to which awsten would apologise about later. it made no difference, awsten was a menace when it came to expressing any emotions rationally to the point they refused to express any at all, side from the lyrics they sang in jawn's living room.

and to any outsider, it would seem as if the unnamed band was passionate about everything they wrote, and they were, but the outsider didn't know how raw everyone felt in the moment.

how pseudo deep, awsten thinks as they stand in front of the mic stand. the journey to jawn's house is lost to them, all they've thought about was the upsetting awakening from the morning's dream and how obsessive they feel. maybe they should focus on something else, like their friends calling their name around them. awsten didn't catch onto it, however, mindlessly playing a single riff on their electric guitar while staring off into space, words lost to them. they watched the wall in front of them until geoff touched their shoulder.

"what the hell is going on with you, dude? are you okay?"

awsten turned to him, the outside of their cheek puckering as they gnawed on the inside. they were all green. green hair, green eye, green guitar, green mood. "sorry, sorry."

geoff sighed and gave awsten a look.

it was stern and implied that geoff knew there was something more to awsten's demeanour than just zoning out, he had a way of telling whenever his best friend was lost in their own mind, but he was also smart enough to realise that awsten wouldn't talk about it unless forced at gunpoint. and, just his luck—geoff didn't own a gun.

so, instead, he sighed again and placed a hand on awsten's shoulder, looking the other directly in the eye. "we're playing take her to the moon."

the band rarely got gigs, and, if they did, they were often because someone's mom had felt bad for their kid and booked them to play at sewing club or pta meetings. occasionally even church clubs, but they had been hired by the local library to play a six song set for a fundraiser, so the unnamed duo longed for something to come out of it. they still needed a drummer, though.

"find you, keep you—" awsten sang as jawn counted them in. jawn was the temp drummer, but he didn't have time to play on a consistent schedule.

take her to the moon used to be one of awsten's favourite songs, but it was written for ciara, and they find it hard to enjoy any song for her. "—mirror mirror on the wall, show me everything i want."

everything felt completely depressing as awsten sang. because of the light, they think. jawn's house had a sickly yellow overhead that leaked onto stiff as hell armchairs and fake potted plants and pictures of his family, hung along the walls. there were also paintings of places more beautiful than la, and it was the only indication that awsten had that houston, texas was gorgeous, as they couldn't recall a single moment in which the city they called home looked like how it did in jawn's landscapes. outside the windows showed los angeles in all its glory, smoggy air and starless skies and clouds and greys and cars and people and cars and people and cars and people. something about the awful baroque pattern on the walls made awsten long for the cars and people. they weren't claustrophobic often, but being in the house while singing about the girl that completely destroyed their heart made every breath feel itchy and earned. that might have been ciara's intention, though. always make awsten feel like they're about to get buried alive.

but awsten knight had a way of focusing entirely too much on the things that made them feel the most depressed, and they figured they should stop that. it was a good song, used to be one of awsten's favourites, and they could jump around and release all the energy they held inside of them, which was a lot, usually. besides, who said it had to be sung about ciara? she might have been the inspiration originally, but there were many different girls in the world that could be the object of awsten knight's desire. or boys. or boy. and awsten's mind shifted and they started to think of otto again, which made their performance even jumpier and energetic, and then the guilt set in again.

their friend group was small — they had moved from houston with two of their closest friends and left the others back in texas — so they had limited options for talking about what was bugging them. if they even decided to talk about it. the song ended and awsten removed their guitar and placed it on the ground before going down the hall and into the bathroom. they slammed the door shut and shouted out an apology. they looked in the mirror and turned the faucet on. cold water was thrown on their face and their reflection showed every square inch of worry on their features. they chewed their tongue and thought about their dream. kissing otto. kissing a guy. kissing a guy who could very well have been straight, who wasn't even flirting with awsten. it had been in their head, it had to be. why would someone as gorgeous as otto, the waiter with the mocha eyes, be interested in a highlighter wannabe rockstar like awsten? it would be a joke.

awsten started to tear up when jawn opened the door and asked if they were okay, and instead of pushing for an answer, he wrapped his arms around them.