Everlong - Let Me Call You Sweetheart Part 2

The Killing Moon

Warnings:Behaviour shaped by Trauma, Alcohol, Security, Violence, bruising, fluff, arguing, contracts, family, bruising, mention of vomiting and nausea, scars, a kiss, playing on stage, guitar

Summary: Reader is reunited with their band Unholy Angel for a one-off performance.
Will old resentments rear their ugly heads, or will this be an opportunity for making dreams come true?

106... You've counted the number of mosaic tiles in the repeating abstract pattern in front of you on the floor several times over, and there are definitely 106. Your leg bounces rhythmically and rapidly with nervous energy. Your guitar standing up between your legs, twisting the guitar by the neck, left then right, in your hands.

"Hey! Anybody home?" You hear Mr Harrington's words slowly get more comprehensible like you are emerging from water.

You lift your head and look around the waiting room, checking where you are. A tiled room, plush chairs around the outside, and a tall reception desk in the centre of the wall to your right.

"I shouldn't have come here," you whisper in fear to Mr Harrington. As you look up at him, you feel a droplet of sweat run down your spine.

He puts his arm around you, "Hey, look, if you wanna go home, let's go home, OK? It's not a problem." He takes out his keys, gives them a shake at you, and accompanies them with a big warm smile, "OK? You don't have to do any-"

"JONES!" A head pokes out of the door and bellows your new last name out to you, cutting him off. It wasn't official, it was just so in situations like this, or the doctors or any appointments with a waiting room, only the people that needed to know who you were, knew who you were. It was generic enough for everyone else.

"It's OK, it's OK, we can handle this, OK?" Mr Harrington says through his smile and squeezes you to him reassuringly. It is not working, but you know he's trying. You flip your phone around in your hand as you walk in. A message pops up as you do from Ambrose, "With you in spirit x"

Mr Harrington's lawyer was already here and engaged him in a lengthy conversation about contracts.

You place your guitar on the table for inspection and sit next to Mr Harrington.
As you look around the room, you can see the set places opposite you, one for each of the band, including your replacement, their manager, their legal team and a representative for Dustin Henderson in case any security questions popped up.

You wait nervously in your seat, trying to remain calm. Last time you'd seen Terry was about 6 months ago. The others add a year to that. They'd never visited, not once.

You'd assumed Terry visited for some kind of closure to do with his arm being lost in the vortex at the battle of the bands. He needed to forgive you to move on. Harley and Jenna... you'd guess they couldn't forgive you for what happened to Terry, which is why you hadn't seen them. Yet here you were in a room about to potentially agree to play at one of their shows.

Something else has been plaguing you the last few weeks, this fear and paranoia growing steadily inside you. Back in your cell, you'd talk to anyone, go through the motions, and give them what they came to see, but outside in the real world, it was proving much more difficult.

Could you have been so accustomed to being locked up that you couldn't function out here? Perhaps it had both trapped and protected you? You scratch down gently on the table in front of you, and just as your mind wanders down the slippery slope of self-loathing, something catches your eye. Just on the outside of your hand that is still busy scratching at the table, a small gathering of particles shines as the light hits them. You smile to yourself and wiggle your fingers through them. Earning you a giggle in your head. Your smile broadens.