Long Island, Saturday Morning
Aug. 24th, 2024 07:58 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
suitably_heroicThe video had been a hit - for some ‘small-time band fucking around on YouTube’ value of hit - and so Trent had hustled them all back out to the beach with his film school buddy to film the next one.
At least they weren’t on a boat this time? Just on the beach, where the mostly off-screen fire had been last time. Trent, Dane and Video Guy were over there, trying to make another fire. Atton, for once, didn’t feel a particular urge to go be a part of it. They were recording for ‘Fire in the Night’ this time, the song he’d written for Sparks, and it brought with him a sense of maudlin.
He’d put the brunt of his feelings about all of that to rest, finally, a few months back. The anger - mostly, but not entirely, inward-focused - had passed. So had the urge to worry, and the sense that he was just… waiting. Waiting for a reckoning, or an apology, or the return of his old life.
His new life was pretty good.
(He did sometimes wonder how Sparkle would feel watching him do better.)
“Are you okay?”
He looked up, and found Jill staring down at him over the rim of her round glasses. She looked genuinely concerned, eyebrow raised, braids spilling past the slight frown of her forehead.
“I’m fine,” he said, and shifted, patting the sand beside him. “These songs just bring up memories, and if I can’t belt them out, they don’t really have anywhere left to go.”
She sank down, the sand shifting underneath her. “You know, we’ve been going kind of full steam ahead with this,” she said, “But I’ve never really asked you if you’re cool with this? Putting all of this music out there, I mean. It’s clear it’s really personal for you. In a… different way.”
He had to laugh.
“I mean, it’s fucking terrifying,” Atton said. “I hate being seen. But I also want to be. I just didn’t feel–” He pulled a face. The word still sucked. “--Safe. Doing so. For a while. I guess. You guys, uh. Made it safe.”
(Not to be weird about it or anything. Not that it was a big deal. The addendums were aching to slip off his tongue.)
Jill let out a soft snort. She slid her arms around her knees and pulled them close. “You say that like it’s a gift we gave you or something,” she said. “Instead of you choosing us. Grudgingly. Eventually. I sure didn’t make it easy, and neither did you. Fuck, I was there those first couple of years where we could barely even pin you down to a concert date. I know I keep ragging on you to own your mistakes, but own your wins too, all right?”
Atton snorted. “How do I keep winding up with all these pushy women around telling me how to feel about everything?”
“Sorry, I di–”
“No, no,” he said, shaking his head. “It’s fine. You’re not– going at double speed like some people.” He sucked in a loud breath. “I’m glad to be doing this,” he said. “But it’s also a part of processing, you know? And every time I think I’m done processing something, there’s just a little nugget of something–” He held up a finger and wiggled it. “--that pops up and goes, ‘you haven’t figured me out yet.’”
He dropped his hand. “One day I’m going to stop asking myself what Sparkle would’ve thought of something,” he said. “And that’ll be the last bit, I think.” He glanced at Jill with a wry little smile. “You know, they were the one who talked me into doing karaoke the very first time. I was a shit about it. But with time, that stopped being a thing we did together. Sparks became skittish about heading into the bar, and I– Well. I didn’t have a lot of safe spaces for anything.”
Eugh. Safe spaces. He pulled a face.
Jill saw it and gave him a smack on the arm.
“Well, we’re not going anywhere,” she said. “I mean. I can’t promise you the guys aren’t about to self-immolate over there, but outside of that.”
That’s what Sparkle had said, he didn’t say. He let the thought waft out into the wind. And, to his surprise, found that it actually left him. “Yeah,” he said, “I should probably go check on that.”
(And every year I light these fires in the night
These fires in the night, these fires in the night
This year I turn and walk into the light
Let it burn, let it burn
Scrub the embers from my mind.)
[[ nfb due to distance, open to texts/calls/visits-with-a-timeskip ]]
At least they weren’t on a boat this time? Just on the beach, where the mostly off-screen fire had been last time. Trent, Dane and Video Guy were over there, trying to make another fire. Atton, for once, didn’t feel a particular urge to go be a part of it. They were recording for ‘Fire in the Night’ this time, the song he’d written for Sparks, and it brought with him a sense of maudlin.
He’d put the brunt of his feelings about all of that to rest, finally, a few months back. The anger - mostly, but not entirely, inward-focused - had passed. So had the urge to worry, and the sense that he was just… waiting. Waiting for a reckoning, or an apology, or the return of his old life.
His new life was pretty good.
(He did sometimes wonder how Sparkle would feel watching him do better.)
“Are you okay?”
He looked up, and found Jill staring down at him over the rim of her round glasses. She looked genuinely concerned, eyebrow raised, braids spilling past the slight frown of her forehead.
“I’m fine,” he said, and shifted, patting the sand beside him. “These songs just bring up memories, and if I can’t belt them out, they don’t really have anywhere left to go.”
She sank down, the sand shifting underneath her. “You know, we’ve been going kind of full steam ahead with this,” she said, “But I’ve never really asked you if you’re cool with this? Putting all of this music out there, I mean. It’s clear it’s really personal for you. In a… different way.”
He had to laugh.
“I mean, it’s fucking terrifying,” Atton said. “I hate being seen. But I also want to be. I just didn’t feel–” He pulled a face. The word still sucked. “--Safe. Doing so. For a while. I guess. You guys, uh. Made it safe.”
(Not to be weird about it or anything. Not that it was a big deal. The addendums were aching to slip off his tongue.)
Jill let out a soft snort. She slid her arms around her knees and pulled them close. “You say that like it’s a gift we gave you or something,” she said. “Instead of you choosing us. Grudgingly. Eventually. I sure didn’t make it easy, and neither did you. Fuck, I was there those first couple of years where we could barely even pin you down to a concert date. I know I keep ragging on you to own your mistakes, but own your wins too, all right?”
Atton snorted. “How do I keep winding up with all these pushy women around telling me how to feel about everything?”
“Sorry, I di–”
“No, no,” he said, shaking his head. “It’s fine. You’re not– going at double speed like some people.” He sucked in a loud breath. “I’m glad to be doing this,” he said. “But it’s also a part of processing, you know? And every time I think I’m done processing something, there’s just a little nugget of something–” He held up a finger and wiggled it. “--that pops up and goes, ‘you haven’t figured me out yet.’”
He dropped his hand. “One day I’m going to stop asking myself what Sparkle would’ve thought of something,” he said. “And that’ll be the last bit, I think.” He glanced at Jill with a wry little smile. “You know, they were the one who talked me into doing karaoke the very first time. I was a shit about it. But with time, that stopped being a thing we did together. Sparks became skittish about heading into the bar, and I– Well. I didn’t have a lot of safe spaces for anything.”
Eugh. Safe spaces. He pulled a face.
Jill saw it and gave him a smack on the arm.
“Well, we’re not going anywhere,” she said. “I mean. I can’t promise you the guys aren’t about to self-immolate over there, but outside of that.”
That’s what Sparkle had said, he didn’t say. He let the thought waft out into the wind. And, to his surprise, found that it actually left him. “Yeah,” he said, “I should probably go check on that.”
(And every year I light these fires in the night
These fires in the night, these fires in the night
This year I turn and walk into the light
Let it burn, let it burn
Scrub the embers from my mind.)
[[ nfb due to distance, open to texts/calls/visits-with-a-timeskip ]]
