——
Dearly beloved,
We are gathered here today to remember and celebrate the life of Koli. This is the official wake of what once was. The official tearful send off of a beautiful romance, buried deep six feet into the earth. Any and all hopes of a Koli reunion have been repeatedly and forcefully shot down by Kellin Quinn and Oliver Sykes, former lovers, former soulmates, now, as Kellin puts it – strangers.
I interviewed them both on separate days in separate locations, nearly fifty miles away from one another, and to be as brutally honest as possible, they both looked like certifiable s**t. Oliver for his part looked like he hadn't even so much as stepped outside his cavernous house in as long as we haven't seen him (which would explain that), and Kellin looked sullen and worn out. It was f**king sad. It was like an honest to God funeral at both interviews.
"I haven't seen him, he doesn't even know where I live, alright? I don't know how many times we can say this. There's nothing f**king there anymore. It's like trying to mix oil and water, with us. We don't f**king get along. At all." Harsh words, from a man who once danced Kellin through a three-song set of slow songs at Taylor Momsen's Midsummer Night's Dream party.
Is it even worth it anymore to have a Koli tag on MuttPop? Should we just tear it down out of respect for the dead, or should we leave it up in memoriam? (Taylor Swift is Going to Write About This –Lynn Gunn, MuttPop.com)
——
Jenna McDougall drives a dark blue BMW X3. She has her blonde hair down and curled in messy beach waves and a pair of Versace sunglasses pushed up onto her face. She's dressed in all black, adorning a fitted blazer, worn over the top of a short crop top, giving the tiniest peek of the bright red mark that taints the pale skin of her hip. She's also wearing skin-tight jeans with rips at the knees and a pair of high-heeled leather boots.
She approaches where Kellin is sitting in the very back corner of one of the least frequented coffee houses in Mission Bay.
A few people had recognized Kellin when he walked in, but it didn't go much farther than the barista already knowing what name to scribble across his coffee cup and a polite hello.
When Jenna places herself down in the chair across from him, she crosses her legs elegantly and sits ramrod straight, refusing to remove her sunglasses even in the dim, atmospheric lighting. Her pink lips are curled down into a tight frown as she appraises him. "You've still got it, then."
The small boy glances down at as much of the mark as he can see; just the tiny sliver of it that reaches down towards his collarbone. "Like a scar, I guess."
She purses her lips. "Right."
Kellin sips at his coffee for a second, and Jenna doesn't say anything else. It's unnerving, with her sunglasses on, that he can't tell where exactly she's looking. All he sees is his own dim reflection in the dark lenses. "Is there a particular reason you..?"
"Yes. I'm sorry about what happened at your party."
Kellin shrugs his slim shoulders slightly. "Yeah, well it was a shit party anyway, right?"
The joke falls flat, and Jenna doesn't laugh. Kellin doesn't laugh either.
"I knew you two were different," Jenna says it without a hint of pride or smugness, not the way people usually say they were right at all. She says it like she fucking hates the fact that she was right. Would've given anything to be wrong. "Just something in the way he looked at you."
Kellin can't fucking stand staring at himself in her glasses anymore, so he looks away. "And how does Tay look at you?"
"Like she loves me," The blonde answers simply, leaning her elbows down onto the table in front of them. "Oliver looked at you like he didn't have a choice."
