*Quinn's POV*
Some people wish that they had a soundtrack for their life. A playlist of songs, reflecting their mood, their thoughts, their actions, feelings, the whole lot. In a world of USBs and whatnot, I was still burning playlists onto CDs like how I used to back in middle school. Since that writing session, I vowed to pick up the pieces myself, and rebuild who I was with the help of Death Cab for Cutie, Fall Out Boy, a little bit of Ariana Grande, a hint of One Direction, and various other artists with songs that seemed to soothe yet redeteriorate one's emotions at the same time.
I did eventually get my phone back. The morning after the writing session, I woke up to see my phone sitting on the floor next to my bunk, and the bouquet sitting in a vase in the main room. After that, Wesley went through girls the way I went through mixtapes. Sometimes, the mixtapes were used with my earbuds to drown out the sounds of him bringing girls onto the bus. Picking one that seemed appealing at the time, sticking to it until satisfaction hit zero, then moving on and repeating the whole process again. Only I'm pretty sure I'm not going to get any STIs from mixtapes. But still.
Touring wasn't too bad, other than the fact that there were still about 5 months to go, and I was 110% homesick. The mixtapes were the only thing keeping me from taking a private jet home, and staying in bed wrapped in a blanket burrito.
However, the thing about songs that mean a lot to you is that they carry memories with them, good or bad. There were countless mornings when I'd wake up in a cold sweat, getting up so quickly that I'd smack my head on the top bunk, waking up a groggy Drew, or feeling just overheated with tears cascading down my face.
The latest memories and flashbacks were from way back before I graduated high school, before prom when Wes and I were probably at our best. Falling asleep to the sound of Patrick Stump's voice led to dreaming with the sound of Wes and I's laughter during better times.
"You were the song stuck in my head
Every song I’ve ever loved
Played again and again and again
And you can get what you want but it’s never enough
And I’ll spin for you like your favorite records used to."
The same memory kept playing over and over again.
*Flashback*
Wes had rented a pickup truck for the date. SInce we were in the city, he drove to the top floor of an abandoned parking garage, overlooking the city. It wasn't much, lying in the back of a pickup truck with a checkered picnic blanket in a dingy parking garage in Toronto, eating Nutella-covered strawberries and music playing out of crackly speakers. But I wouldn't trade this moment for the world.
"...So then, Keats tripped onstage on national TV!" We both laughed uncontrollably. Keaton still found a tad bit embarrasing, but now we just laughed it off. "Oh my gosh, I totally remember that. And that moment you looked like you were posessed by the spirit during your audition?"
We groaned, covering his face with his hands. "Can we not talk about that? I swear, after I saw that, I was going to buy myself a rosary. It looked like some exorcism." I started laughing even harder, as Wes pounted and glared at me. "I'm sorry!" I gasped for air."Your arm was shaking like a phone on vibrate and your eyes were like, rolling around in the back of your head or something!" Thank god I wore waterproof makeup, because at the point, we were both laughing so hard that we were crying.
"I'll give you the last strawberry if we stop talking about X Factor. Even though I was the one who brought it up." He held the strawberry towards my lips, but then his shaking hands accidentally smeared it right uner my lips. "Thanks, Wes. What a romantic gesture of giving me a chocolate goatee." I grabbed the strawberry from him, and popped it into my mouth, putting the top in the massive pile that we'd created. He leaned in, one of his shaking hands found its way in my hair, the other on the small of my back as his lips removed the smear of Nutella, then worked their way up to mine.
