The Less I Know The Better [complete]

33 ;; frustration

It was nearing evening. John tapped his foot to a beat only existing in his head as he made his way through the chord progression he'd come up with; his lips mumbled the names of them under his breath to remember which ones were which as he went, staring down at the fretboard through his thick square glasses as he practiced it. Harsh wind rattled the dust-caked windows of the tiny apartment he was in, reminding him of the weather he was to travel home in - though at least it wasn't raining again, so John wouldn't get soaked for the thousandth time. He was comfortably sunken into the ancient leather couch of Stuart's apartment with a thick jumper on, and would not be pulled from inside his head where he was fully engrossed in his work if not for Stu, who called out to him from where he sat on the floor.

"How's it goin' over there?"

He lifted his head, blinking as he resurfaced to reality and focussed on Stuart. The boy had a half-smoked cigarette between his lips and a large sheet of paper in front of him where he was sketching something with charcoal. There was even a smudge of it on his sunken cheeks, and his fingers had been stained with the sooty black substance. The floor below had splashes of bright paint stains scattered across it, and the cracked white walls displayed tens of art pieces all created by him. John had only been to Stuart's new apartment a few times - the boy had moved in a few months ago, basically the moment he turned eighteen - and he lived with one other guy, an older man in his mid twenties who was in university to become a doctor or something. He wasn't present at the time, though, so he and John were alone in the lounge room that had basically been turned into an art studio for Stu. He was the one who managed most of the bills, though Stu did sell his art every now and then and had a part-time job at a local American-style diner. His schedule was pretty much always packed; he went to the academy, then worked at the diner for most nights, and would fit in working on his art and homework at any point he possibly could. He was building a portfolio to get into an art college once their last year finished up, so he had to focus on that as much as he could. John still felt bad that he'd pressured Stuart to go to Quarrybank in the first place when he just didn't have a passion for music. He also had no idea how his friend managed to do all those things - John would barely be able to cope with so much pressure.

"Oh.. just still sorta figurin' it out."
It had only been a few days since they'd learnt of the assignment, and John hadn't done too much so far. Stuart certainly hadn't helped either, but he wasn't going to force him to - the older boy had too much on his plate, and he had no talent for song writing. The auburn-haired boy just didn't harbour the motivation he had last time when there was no Paul beside him. It just didn't feel right to write songs without him. It wasn't the same - there was something awkward and clunky about it, and John was thoroughly disinterested in it. When they'd written together, it just seemed to come together so smoothly and they were able to bounce ideas off of each other, like a real collaboration. This.. John didn't have much high hopes for. He let out a despairing sigh, trying to shake away those painful thoughts. He hated thinking about Paul now. It used to send his heart racing and a stupid dopey grin to form on his face.. he missed that kind of feeling.

"Got a name for it yet?" Stu turned back to his artwork where he continued making quick, sure strokes across the page - John couldn't see what he was drawing from where he was, but he seemed very invested in it. He didn't reply for a few seconds, mulling it over as his gaze trained on his school music notebook on the ground in front of his feet, where he'd been writing down the chords and other ideas for the song. He hadn't even come up with lyrics yet. The chords were melancholic, bittersweet; he didn't really intend for them to be so, but they kind of just conjured themselves out of the blue. He nearly laughed aloud. Of course the song he was going to come up with would be sad, all because of one person. Jesus, he was pathetic.
It was like - without Paul - he was wandering in some unknown land, all alone.. nowhere. A nowhere man.