New York City, Monday

Atton had expected another crash; to be so overwhelmed with the no-longer-hereness of certain elements of his life that he'd have to lock himself in his room for a while to recover the energy to face the world. But he didn't have one. The elation and confusion of Wednesday had dovetailed into a sense of lightness and relief.

They had finished up the last of the songs for the record, the one he'd written during his last, brief meltdown in Fandom. Then, on Sunday, he had found himself on Long Island by the beach, writing something entirely new. Something less drenched in cynicism and self-criticism.

He'd put the money he'd saved up while working for Fandom High last year to good use - the Jedi had paid for his room and board, so he hadn't had much in the way of costs. Some went towards securing some studio time to actually record everything they had now. A good chunk of the rest had gone to this-- a practice space of their own in Brooklyn. He spent the morning there with Jill, wanting to do something with this new song that was a little more... percussion-forward.

He had asked Lana to join him there, for a little spar, to be followed by dinner at home later tonight.

It felt less dreamlike than he had anticipated. If anything, it felt more real.

[[ for lana! ]]