SEPTEMBER 17 - SEPTEMBER 23, 2004
There's a series of guilty words in Brandon's head. He's found that sometimes a song comes to you and it never leaves. As an artist, which he hesitates to call himself, you find that sometimes the words will assault you and won't let you go. You let little ideas bounce around in your head but you don't poke the bear because you know the words won't stop if you do.
They're in California now for a KROQ festival, but they were able to get a day off to go to the beach the day before. He's seen the ocean many times now, usually from planes, but it's still something that he's in awe of. It makes you quiet. Gives your head room to think. Words form. Your guitarist splashes you with saltwater and it gets in your mouth.
Ronnie has been more reserved than usual since they were in London. Not bad like before, but it's noticeable. He'd been trying to avoid the relationship question for a while but now that it's been brought back to the forefront of his mind, Ronnie's behavior is hard not to notice.
They sit together on the beach. The day is overcast and the wind makes him cold. Mark and Dave have gone to grab a bite to eat. The towel he sits on is damp from the aforementioned splashing. The words in his head are tripping over themselves.
Ronnie is laying next to him, sunglasses on so Brandon can't quite tell if he's awake or not. He almost certainly is, seeing as he said something just five minutes ago when Dave and Mark left, but Brandon wishes that he wasn't. Things between the two of them have been good, Brandon thinks-at the very least it's been better than it was before. He's just in a sour mood today because of a thousand little things he can't control that have gone slightly wrong, which has made his mind wander to other things that went very wrong.
Like that damn magazine.
It's fucking stupid, how that all went down. Brandon had caught sight of it at an airport when they left England nearly a month ago and Dave had been incredibly annoyed at NME's choice to not put the whole band on the cover. That situation had been remedied when Dave actually opened the magazine and read what had been written.
It was literally paragraph after paragraph about how stupid and weird he is. It isn't all bad, but every time the article veers into positive territory, the author throws in an unnecessary description about how he thinks Brandon is ugly, or something.
Well, that's not entirely accurate, but that's what it had felt like.
Brandon feels more self-conscious than ever now. He can't help but wonder if everyone who meets him thinks these things. If not, they will now if they've read the article.
Goddamn it.
Anyway, Dave thought it was fucking hilarious and Mark had tried his best to neutralize the situation because Ronnie, ever the peacekeeper, had gone quiet.
He'd already fucking known.
Ronnie had already read the damn thing a week prior and kept it a secret. He didn't tell a single soul. He'd been with them for a week, probably trying to find the similarities between Brandon himself and the one that Mark Beaumont wrote about.
Brandon had thought he'd gotten over it, but evidently not. He's got this mean song stuck in his head but he feels so guilty about it.
Might as well try to be productive, even if nothing comes from it.
He resigns himself to the inevitable and scoots closer so that he can reach the tote bag on the other side of Ronnie. The other man immediately notices and his gaze follows Brandon's hand.
YOU ARE READING
Hopeless Haze - Volume I: Hot Fuss (Remastered)
Romance"If Brandon cared, he would wonder if Ronnie was also deep in thought about something and has only just absentmindedly found something for his hands to play with. But as Ronnie runs his fingers through his hair, Brandon finds that he does not care a...
