Los Angeles, Sunday
Jun. 29th, 2025 05:57 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
suitably_heroicThe news had come in last night, and by 'come in', Jack meant that a single text message had rolled in from Trent at around 3 AM. He'd been the only one to get it - which made sense, because he was the only one who was always awake at 3 AM and everyone knew about it. And then he'd laid there, on the vaguely comfortable hotel bed, staring at the ceiling.
Wondering if he should wake up Dane, or if he needed to come up with something to say to Trent on his own.
In the end, he just texted back. Something something sorry. And an offer, to which he'd gotten no reply.
So it wasn't until morning, with him and Dane stuffed into a booth somewhere in the hotel restaurant, that he said it out loud. "Trent's mom passed last night," he said.
"Shit."
"Yeah."
"Is he playing tonight?"
"I don't know. He didn't say." Jack poked around in his oatmeal with his spoon. "Do you think we have time to practice something extra today?"
Dane looked up from his pile of pancakes and blinked at him - slow and deliberate. "We're just moving on from the big news, huh?"
Oh, right. That probably came off flippant. "No," Jack said. "Just... you know Green Day is a big deal to Trent, right?"
"Practically a religion," Dane said, nodding.
"I asked him if he wanted to lead tonight's cover," Jack replied. "For her. That's all."
"It's a sweet idea." Dane reached for his drink, taking a moment to consider it. "He'd probably want that? I think. I don't know. The guy can be hard to read."
"I think he would." But Jack's phone screen told him nothing, so far. Dammit. "So I think we should at least prep it. You know. Just in case." Maybe some other things, too. Shit, he'd been trying to talk Lana out of letting Trent come along on the trip back home just a few days ago...
"Can always find some time." Dane sipped his coffee. "... Especially with Green Day. It's not like it's hard."
---
Trent showed up to practice. He didn't say much of anything. It was kind of worrying, in its own way; sure, Trent wasn't much of a talker on a good day, but he always brought some kind of chaos, a weird tuning, an unexpected monologue. Not this time. He was just quiet. Hit all the notes on time.
Was there a point to taking him aside? To asking him if he wanted to talk about it? Space, Jack never wanted to talk about it - though sometimes he had to - and he was pretty sure his stupid, insane bassist was the same way.
So he put it off. Until he couldn't.
"Time to hit the night's cover," he said. He looked to Trent, found him messing around with the A-string. That currently bleach-blond head only went up once. A nod.
"Okay," Jack said, and looked to Dane. Caught a little smile on his face, and worry in his eyes. "Okay."
---
"Thanks for being with us tonight, LA," Jack said, eyes roving over the crowd - bigger than he'd expected, but then, weren't they all? He caught a couple of pairs of eyes, but lost them just as quickly. "I mean, I don't know why, but I'm grateful you had nothing better to do."
He heard Jill give a purposefully lame rimshot in the background. He rolled his eyes.
"We like to close our shows with a cover," he said. "Usually it's something by TSOL. Our bassist, that asshole over there--" He waved to Trent's weirdly quiet corner, "--picked it. But tonight we're doing something else."
He locked eyes with Trent for a second. Saw the small set of his jaw, the way the man's sneakers took just one half-step forward. "This one's for the good people who've left our lives," he said.
A low bass note rung out through the hall. And then a second, finding a familiar melody. "The ones who matter long after they've gone," Jack said, counting the beats in his head, until-- "My friend drove off the other day, now he's gone and all they say, is you gotta live 'cause life goes on..."
He let himself fade to the background a bit. Let Trent take those extra steps forward, until he was the only one under the heavy lights, his fingers moving quickly on that bass. Hitting that loop, over and over.
Until the end, anyway, when Jack drifted back over there, microphone in hand, and Trent's crumbling, ragged voice carried them through the outro, and they kept going until the bass melody finally, finally faded out.
---
Trent hugged him, after the show. From quiet, loitering by the exit, to right in his face, slinging those gangly arms around Jack's chest and giving a big squeeze. Jack, for his part, didn't even get the time to figure out what to do with his hands.
It was just that. And then staring, stupefied, after Trent's back as he jogged out of the venue.
"You think he's going to be okay?" Dane asked, slinging his guitar over his shoulder.
"I dunno," Jack admitted. "We'll see after he makes it through all the funeral poodoo, I guess."
He'd only remember that today was the Fandom Pride Parade - and all the associated baggage - eighteen hours later, back on his own sofa. Staring at the ceiling again.
[[ nfb due to distance, can be open for phone calls/texts. ]]
Wondering if he should wake up Dane, or if he needed to come up with something to say to Trent on his own.
In the end, he just texted back. Something something sorry. And an offer, to which he'd gotten no reply.
So it wasn't until morning, with him and Dane stuffed into a booth somewhere in the hotel restaurant, that he said it out loud. "Trent's mom passed last night," he said.
"Shit."
"Yeah."
"Is he playing tonight?"
"I don't know. He didn't say." Jack poked around in his oatmeal with his spoon. "Do you think we have time to practice something extra today?"
Dane looked up from his pile of pancakes and blinked at him - slow and deliberate. "We're just moving on from the big news, huh?"
Oh, right. That probably came off flippant. "No," Jack said. "Just... you know Green Day is a big deal to Trent, right?"
"Practically a religion," Dane said, nodding.
"I asked him if he wanted to lead tonight's cover," Jack replied. "For her. That's all."
"It's a sweet idea." Dane reached for his drink, taking a moment to consider it. "He'd probably want that? I think. I don't know. The guy can be hard to read."
"I think he would." But Jack's phone screen told him nothing, so far. Dammit. "So I think we should at least prep it. You know. Just in case." Maybe some other things, too. Shit, he'd been trying to talk Lana out of letting Trent come along on the trip back home just a few days ago...
"Can always find some time." Dane sipped his coffee. "... Especially with Green Day. It's not like it's hard."
---
Trent showed up to practice. He didn't say much of anything. It was kind of worrying, in its own way; sure, Trent wasn't much of a talker on a good day, but he always brought some kind of chaos, a weird tuning, an unexpected monologue. Not this time. He was just quiet. Hit all the notes on time.
Was there a point to taking him aside? To asking him if he wanted to talk about it? Space, Jack never wanted to talk about it - though sometimes he had to - and he was pretty sure his stupid, insane bassist was the same way.
So he put it off. Until he couldn't.
"Time to hit the night's cover," he said. He looked to Trent, found him messing around with the A-string. That currently bleach-blond head only went up once. A nod.
"Okay," Jack said, and looked to Dane. Caught a little smile on his face, and worry in his eyes. "Okay."
---
"Thanks for being with us tonight, LA," Jack said, eyes roving over the crowd - bigger than he'd expected, but then, weren't they all? He caught a couple of pairs of eyes, but lost them just as quickly. "I mean, I don't know why, but I'm grateful you had nothing better to do."
He heard Jill give a purposefully lame rimshot in the background. He rolled his eyes.
"We like to close our shows with a cover," he said. "Usually it's something by TSOL. Our bassist, that asshole over there--" He waved to Trent's weirdly quiet corner, "--picked it. But tonight we're doing something else."
He locked eyes with Trent for a second. Saw the small set of his jaw, the way the man's sneakers took just one half-step forward. "This one's for the good people who've left our lives," he said.
A low bass note rung out through the hall. And then a second, finding a familiar melody. "The ones who matter long after they've gone," Jack said, counting the beats in his head, until-- "My friend drove off the other day, now he's gone and all they say, is you gotta live 'cause life goes on..."
He let himself fade to the background a bit. Let Trent take those extra steps forward, until he was the only one under the heavy lights, his fingers moving quickly on that bass. Hitting that loop, over and over.
Until the end, anyway, when Jack drifted back over there, microphone in hand, and Trent's crumbling, ragged voice carried them through the outro, and they kept going until the bass melody finally, finally faded out.
---
Trent hugged him, after the show. From quiet, loitering by the exit, to right in his face, slinging those gangly arms around Jack's chest and giving a big squeeze. Jack, for his part, didn't even get the time to figure out what to do with his hands.
It was just that. And then staring, stupefied, after Trent's back as he jogged out of the venue.
"You think he's going to be okay?" Dane asked, slinging his guitar over his shoulder.
"I dunno," Jack admitted. "We'll see after he makes it through all the funeral poodoo, I guess."
He'd only remember that today was the Fandom Pride Parade - and all the associated baggage - eighteen hours later, back on his own sofa. Staring at the ceiling again.
[[ nfb due to distance, can be open for phone calls/texts. ]]
