AT LEAST IT'S ALL ABOUT YOU // Dream X Reader

12

The bus rumbled around you as Myra poured herself some cereal, sitting down on the couch next to you with a bowl of Captain Crunch - her favorite since you were both ten. You were working your way through an apple and peanut butter, watching the highway roll by outside the bus windows, still a little sleepy. You had only woken up a few minutes ago after all, and you had been out on the bus roof with Clay for almost the whole night. 

Next to you, Myra yawned and spooned some cereal into her mouth. 

"How was your party last night?" You asked, dipping another slice of your apple into the peanut butter. 

"Fun." Myra said. "We ended up going to a couple places. Nick got absolutely wasted, which was pretty funny." She smiled to herself before turning to you, munching on more cereal. "What'd you end up doing while I was out?"

"I hung out with Clay." You said. "He was playing guitar a little, and we smoked a bit. Not enough to get super high or anything, just a little."

Myra smiled knowingly. "Scandalous." She said, like she hadn't been inhaling smoke straight from Nick's mouth after the Miami show. "I'm glad you guys are getting along though. I take it George was already passed out?"

"Yeah." You said. 

Myra snickered. "Past his bedtime. I swear he's like a grandpa." She spooned another bite into her mouth. "I wouldn't be surprised if he was secretly, like 42, or something-" She was cut off when her phone began to ring.

You reached forward, plucking it off the little table it had been sitting on and handing it to her, glancing over the caller ID. It was Shawn. 

Myra picked up right away, tucking the phone between her jaw and her shoulder so she could keep eating. "Hey pops." She said. You could just hear Shawn's gravelly grumble through the phone speaker. "Yeah, Y/N's here too."

A second passed, and then Myra was handing you the phone. "You first." She said. 

You took the phone and pressed it to your ear. "Hi Shawn."

"Hiya kid." Shawn said. You could hear the smile in his voice. "How's touring? Your mom and I have been watching the clips of the shows from home, and it all looks really good."

"It's been great so far." You said. "I could get used to this rockstar thing, I think."

Shawn laughed. "I'm glad you're having a good time so far." He paused, and you could hear him moving around on the other end of the line. "Your mom says hello, by the way. She had to go in to work early today, but I told her I'd pass on the message."

"Tell her I say hi too." You said. "And that I miss her cooking. Touring is fun, but takeout every night gets kind of boring."

Shawn laughed again. "Myra better be feeding you right! You and I both know she's more than capable of making a decent meal."

"She's usually busy hanging out with her boyfriend in our free time though." You said. On the other side of the couch, Myra's eyes snapped to yours, mild panic flashing behind them.

"Boyfriend?" Shawn echoed. "Hold on, you put me back on the phone with my daughter. It better not be that British one-"

You passed the phone back to Myra and she snatched it back from you. "Why'd you say that?" She hissed playfully. 

You shrugged mischievously as Myra pressed the phone to her ear with a sigh. Even now, you could hear Shawn's voice.

"Yes dad... no, it's not the British one... it's the drummer, his name's Nick... he's from Texas... no, he's not racist, Dad, why would he be dating a black girl if he's racist..."

You held back a laugh and turned to your own phone, tuning out of Myra's conversation - it would be a while before she broke free of that phone call. You dipped another apple slice into your peanut butter and bite into it, savoring the sweet fruit. You scrolled through your feed for a minute before deciding that you honestly didn't care about politics that much, and went to your notes app instead, opening the running journal that you had started a few days ago.

You didn't have much to add - just the memory of the tickling smoke in the back of your throat and Clay's wheezing laugh - but you added it anyway and then scrolled back to the top of the note to read through what you had written. It didn't take you that long - it was mostly just small phrases and single words - but when you reached the end you realized just how much of it was about Clay.

They way he sang, the way he played guitar, the way he laughed, the way his eyes looked different depending on the lighting, the way he was so open and confident around his friends and how he still wore a mask on stage, how nobody knew him past the mask except for a select few, how you were lucky to be part of that group.

Reading it back, it sounded like a love letter. 

Was it?

A deep feeling settled in your stomach. You couldn't have a crush on Clay - you had only met him, like, a week ago. But then again, you had built crushes in less time and with less material (cough cough, Timothee Chalamet, after seeing one - 1 - picture of him on the Instagram explore page). Maybe it wasn't so far fetched to like Clay. After all, you'd already admired him as a fan, and now that you knew him as a person that feeling had expanded. Maybe it was a love letter-

Your thoughts were interrupted when Myra chucked a throw pillow at you. 

"Hey!" You said, protecting your breakfast. "What was that for?"

"Telling Dad about Nick!" She said. "You better hope you never have to tell him you're seeing anybody, oh my god, he does like a full background check... what do you want for dinner by the way?"

You felt your face heat up slightly, remembering the way Clay's eyes had flicked up to meet yours, laying on the bus roof last night. "Um, whatever's fine."

Myra looked at you quizzically. "What's the face for?"