Ship/Member: Joshua/Vernon Major Tags: rock band, vague references to Warped Tour Additional Tags: set in the 2010s, post-breakup, badly-processed hurt Permission to remix: Please ask WC: 1,064
***
you can die now. you can die now as people were meant to die: great, victorious, hearing the music, being the music, roaring, roaring, roaring.
- Splash, Charles Bukowski
"Is this going to be a problem?"
Joshua looks up to meet Jeonghan's eyes. They're standing by the end of the tour bus, about forty minutes left before they hit the road. Like his, Jeonghan's shirt collar is soaked in sweat, their laborious hour of packing up and securing equipment finally over. Jeonghan's gaze is pointed but mild, not looking down even as he taps out a menthol cigarette from his pack with a well-practiced ease.
Joshua leans back against the bus, the paint cool against his neck, and pushes his bangs up out of his eyes. "Is what going to be a problem?"
Jeonghan makes an annoyed sound in his throat. "Don't play dumb. You know what I'm talking about."
"I don't," Joshua says, tamping down on the reflex to argue.
Jeonghan raises an eyebrow and turns around to look behind him.
Joshua follows Jeonghan's gaze to where Vernon is sitting down on the other side of the loading bay, headphones plugged into his Zune, and swallows.
"That," Jeonghan says, sticking the filter in his mouth before rummaging around in his pockets.
Joshua's mouth goes dry, and he turns back to watch Vernon fiddle with his music player. Almost on cue, Vernon looks up and meets Joshua's eyes. Vernon holds it for a brief second before giving him a stiff smile, then pointedly looks down again.
"No," Joshua finds himself saying, almost a little too quickly. "It's not—it wasn't a big deal."
"Uh huh." Jeonghan's hands emerge from his pockets emptyhanded. "So this isn't gonna get in the way of the tour. It's not gonna make the music weird. Is what you're saying?
"Right," Joshua says. "We talked about it already. It's fine."
Jeonghan looks at him for a long, uncomfortable moment, then shrugs. "Okay. Do you have a lighter?"
"You know I don't smoke," Joshua says. "You know I wish you wouldn't."
Jeonghan takes the filter out of his mouth and tucks it behind his ear. "Why? 'Cause it's a habit you can't seem to kick, and you know you'll just want more even after you're done? Even though you know it's bad for you? Even though you tell yourself you can quit anytime?"
Even to his ears, Jeonghan's words are harsh and mocking. Joshua stares at him, the blood slow-moving and lead-like in his veins. "What are—"
"Just kidding," Jeonghan says, sing-song, and pats him on the shoulder. "I'll quit, okay? After this pack." Before Joshua can say anything else, Jeonghan stalks off to where Minghao and Seungkwan are going over inventory.
Now by himself, Joshua looks back over at Vernon, trying to stitch together the badly-hewn pieces of that memory, when Vernon had dumped him at the beginning of the summer.
I need space, he'd said. This isn't working.
This, Joshua thinks. Not me, not you. This.
Is this going to be a problem?
Joshua exhales through his teeth, then drains his water bottle in one go.
"Hey," he calls out across the loading bay, making his way over to Vernon's spot before his brain catches up to the rest of him.
Vernon looks up and pulls an earbud out. "Hey."
"Are you almost ready?" Joshua asks, stopping a couple of feet away.
"Yeah," Vernon says, wrapping his earbud wires around his Zune player. "You're driving, right?"
"Yeah."
Vernon's features settle into that inscrutable calm that Joshua has never been able to fully parse. Quietly contemplative, as Vernon looks up at him. He's still sitting, and Joshua—feeling awkward—sticks his hands in his pockets.
"Minghao said he'd switch with you tomorrow, if you want," Vernon says quietly. "For the leg between Ojai and Bakersfield. So you can rest."
"It's okay," Joshua says. "I don't mind the drive. It gives me time to think."
Vernon's mouth twists up into something Joshua can't quite comprehend. "You got a lot to think about?"
Joshua shrugs, shifting his weight from foot to foot. "Well—you know."
Another moment passes like this—not quite uncomfortable, but not soothing either. Silences with Vernon are often like that. Just another thing that Joshua has learned to get used to.
Vernon turns his gaze back to him, studying him. "Are you okay?" he asks finally.
It's a bitterly-won victory, the outright extension of Vernon's quiet, careful consideration. The thing is that Vernon isn't inconsiderate—in fact, far from it. But for him to vocalize it—that's rare, and Joshua knows its value. For a moment, Joshua almost resents him, that their relationship had to take this kind of irreparable damage for him to be on the receiving end of Vernon's concern.
He inhales deeply, trying to push it from his mind. "You know me," Joshua says. "Just give me a stage. And a crowd."
"And a cold beer after?" Vernon finishes for him, lips quirking up in a smile, the kind of smile that Joshua loves. The kind that says that Vernon's attention is fully his, hard-earned, but cherished all the same.
Joshua grins in spite of himself. "Exactly."
Later that evening—when he's standing on the slick, laminate flooring of Ernie Ball stage, twenty seconds out from their first opening chord—Joshua has himself mostly-convinced that this is something he can work through.
From his side of the stage, Vernon looks up and gives him another kind of smile that Joshua loves—but this one is all teeth and a little bit of tongue, eyes curving up with the ferocity of it. This smile is the one that Joshua fell in love with, over countless summers of bad decisions, pressed up against each other, sharing skin and chords and lyrics.
"What's up, Ojai," Vernon says into the mic, and then from behind them Jeonghan's bass rumbles to life, and Minghao smashes down on the hi-hat. The crowd in front of him opens up, gapes, swallows him, and Joshua doesn't have any more time to think. His guitar is weightless, electrified in his hands, and there isn't much for him to do except to give himself over to the music, to surrender his heart over to the roar of the audience and get lost in the surge, in the rush.
Joshua's fingers are already moving, gripping his pick and the neck of his guitar. He strikes down on a G, leans into the mic, lips parted—like a kiss. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. He lets go.
[FILL] roaring, roaring, roaring
Major Tags: rock band, vague references to Warped Tour
Additional Tags: set in the 2010s, post-breakup, badly-processed hurt
Permission to remix: Please ask
WC: 1,064
***
you can die now.
you can die now as
people were meant to die:
great, victorious,
hearing the music, being the music,
roaring,
roaring,
roaring.
- Splash, Charles Bukowski
"Is this going to be a problem?"
Joshua looks up to meet Jeonghan's eyes. They're standing by the end of the tour bus, about forty minutes left before they hit the road. Like his, Jeonghan's shirt collar is soaked in sweat, their laborious hour of packing up and securing equipment finally over. Jeonghan's gaze is pointed but mild, not looking down even as he taps out a menthol cigarette from his pack with a well-practiced ease.
Joshua leans back against the bus, the paint cool against his neck, and pushes his bangs up out of his eyes. "Is what going to be a problem?"
Jeonghan makes an annoyed sound in his throat. "Don't play dumb. You know what I'm talking about."
"I don't," Joshua says, tamping down on the reflex to argue.
Jeonghan raises an eyebrow and turns around to look behind him.
Joshua follows Jeonghan's gaze to where Vernon is sitting down on the other side of the loading bay, headphones plugged into his Zune, and swallows.
"That," Jeonghan says, sticking the filter in his mouth before rummaging around in his pockets.
Joshua's mouth goes dry, and he turns back to watch Vernon fiddle with his music player. Almost on cue, Vernon looks up and meets Joshua's eyes. Vernon holds it for a brief second before giving him a stiff smile, then pointedly looks down again.
"No," Joshua finds himself saying, almost a little too quickly. "It's not—it wasn't a big deal."
"Uh huh." Jeonghan's hands emerge from his pockets emptyhanded. "So this isn't gonna get in the way of the tour. It's not gonna make the music weird. Is what you're saying?
"Right," Joshua says. "We talked about it already. It's fine."
Jeonghan looks at him for a long, uncomfortable moment, then shrugs. "Okay. Do you have a lighter?"
"You know I don't smoke," Joshua says. "You know I wish you wouldn't."
Jeonghan takes the filter out of his mouth and tucks it behind his ear. "Why? 'Cause it's a habit you can't seem to kick, and you know you'll just want more even after you're done? Even though you know it's bad for you? Even though you tell yourself you can quit anytime?"
Even to his ears, Jeonghan's words are harsh and mocking. Joshua stares at him, the blood slow-moving and lead-like in his veins. "What are—"
"Just kidding," Jeonghan says, sing-song, and pats him on the shoulder. "I'll quit, okay? After this pack." Before Joshua can say anything else, Jeonghan stalks off to where Minghao and Seungkwan are going over inventory.
Now by himself, Joshua looks back over at Vernon, trying to stitch together the badly-hewn pieces of that memory, when Vernon had dumped him at the beginning of the summer.
I need space, he'd said. This isn't working.
This, Joshua thinks. Not me, not you. This.
Is this going to be a problem?
Joshua exhales through his teeth, then drains his water bottle in one go.
"Hey," he calls out across the loading bay, making his way over to Vernon's spot before his brain catches up to the rest of him.
Vernon looks up and pulls an earbud out. "Hey."
"Are you almost ready?" Joshua asks, stopping a couple of feet away.
"Yeah," Vernon says, wrapping his earbud wires around his Zune player. "You're driving, right?"
"Yeah."
Vernon's features settle into that inscrutable calm that Joshua has never been able to fully parse. Quietly contemplative, as Vernon looks up at him. He's still sitting, and Joshua—feeling awkward—sticks his hands in his pockets.
"Minghao said he'd switch with you tomorrow, if you want," Vernon says quietly. "For the leg between Ojai and Bakersfield. So you can rest."
"It's okay," Joshua says. "I don't mind the drive. It gives me time to think."
Vernon's mouth twists up into something Joshua can't quite comprehend. "You got a lot to think about?"
Joshua shrugs, shifting his weight from foot to foot. "Well—you know."
Another moment passes like this—not quite uncomfortable, but not soothing either. Silences with Vernon are often like that. Just another thing that Joshua has learned to get used to.
Vernon turns his gaze back to him, studying him. "Are you okay?" he asks finally.
It's a bitterly-won victory, the outright extension of Vernon's quiet, careful consideration. The thing is that Vernon isn't inconsiderate—in fact, far from it. But for him to vocalize it—that's rare, and Joshua knows its value. For a moment, Joshua almost resents him, that their relationship had to take this kind of irreparable damage for him to be on the receiving end of Vernon's concern.
He inhales deeply, trying to push it from his mind. "You know me," Joshua says. "Just give me a stage. And a crowd."
"And a cold beer after?" Vernon finishes for him, lips quirking up in a smile, the kind of smile that Joshua loves. The kind that says that Vernon's attention is fully his, hard-earned, but cherished all the same.
Joshua grins in spite of himself. "Exactly."
Later that evening—when he's standing on the slick, laminate flooring of Ernie Ball stage, twenty seconds out from their first opening chord—Joshua has himself mostly-convinced that this is something he can work through.
From his side of the stage, Vernon looks up and gives him another kind of smile that Joshua loves—but this one is all teeth and a little bit of tongue, eyes curving up with the ferocity of it. This smile is the one that Joshua fell in love with, over countless summers of bad decisions, pressed up against each other, sharing skin and chords and lyrics.
"What's up, Ojai," Vernon says into the mic, and then from behind them Jeonghan's bass rumbles to life, and Minghao smashes down on the hi-hat. The crowd in front of him opens up, gapes, swallows him, and Joshua doesn't have any more time to think. His guitar is weightless, electrified in his hands, and there isn't much for him to do except to give himself over to the music, to surrender his heart over to the roar of the audience and get lost in the surge, in the rush.
Joshua's fingers are already moving, gripping his pick and the neck of his guitar. He strikes down on a G, leans into the mic, lips parted—like a kiss. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. He lets go.