𝙇𝙤𝙤𝙠 𝘼𝙩 𝙔𝙤𝙪𝙧𝙨𝙚𝙡𝙛, 𝘽𝙤𝙬𝙞𝙚!

ELEVEN - Intrusive Thoughts

When Mick finally appeared, the three head off to the studio. Mari was nearly positive that he hadn't stopped talking since he got there. Was he high? Was it because David was there? Oh, but such a thing may be possible.

Mari was oh so familiar with the things that had been said about the two in the tabloids, but she also knew that the tabloids were not such a reliable source. Who knows? She could tell they were good friends, it was quite common for good friends in the music industry to hook up at least once, the only reason people freaked out about the rumors so often was because they were both men.

"Where are you two in the recording process?"

"Far enough, we just want to finish things up." Mick answered David as he opened the front door to the studio.

"We had to leave earlier because some things came up for the both of us, we planned on working all night," Mari looked back at David as she walked through the entrance, "That's alright with you, yeah?"

David nodded with little hesitation, he knew he wouldn't sleep through the night anyways.

"Thank God the sound engineers are still here," Mari sighed in relief as she entered the recording studio. Mick sat down immediately, pulling a pack of cigarettes out of his back pocket and a lighter out his front pocket, watching from his peripheral as David examined the unfamiliar environment.

*

"Right, we're about done with vocals, yeah?" Mick asked, stepping away from his microphone. Mari was with the sound engineers, David by her side.

She nodded, "Yeah, last couple lines. We've got some backing vocals left, I don't know if we should do them now or leave them for tomorrow--"

"Now." Mick interrupted. He was determined to finish the song right then, despite that it was already around 2:00am.

"Alright then." She said, letting him continue recording vocals.

"God, I hate this part." She said, stepping back from the sound board.

"Recording?"

"No, when I'm almost done. It makes me rush everything just to be finished."

"I understand," he began, "but your part's already done for now, yeah?"

She paused, trying to think of anything else she might have to do that night. Nothing came to mind.

"I suppose you're right." She deadpanned. The two went silent for a while, watching as Mick restlessly tried to perfect his vocals. They were nearly fried from having been working on the song all day and most of the night, but he wasn't going to leave that studio without finishing that song.

"You know, this is probably the longest time I've seen him sober." David finally examined.

She nodded, a tight lipped smile spreading across her face.

"Yeah, well that's what you lot do for fun." she started.

"You don't?" he asked. He wasn't used to meeting a musician who wasn't into drugs. It was hard to be in the industry and not be on drugs.

She laughed at his shocked expression, "No, but I can't say I never have."

"Mick's always high in front of you." she quietly added.

He laughed, watching the woman's lips turn into a more noticeable smile. His head began to wander as silence took over again. He spared a glance over at the woman, his mind wandered further.

Maybe it was the drugs that had him thinking so off, so suddenly, but from then until he finally got up from his spot on the sofa, he couldn't stop sparing glances at the woman.

He'd gone into a trance, she was speaking but he didn't hear her. He was responding, he didn't know what he was saying. He was worried, but he didn't know what he was worried about.

"Where's the restroom?"

"Down the hall, third door on the left."

"Thank you."

He went off, Mari taking notice of how hastily he opened the door to exit the room. He sped down the hall, pulling a bottle of pills out his jacket pocket before he could even open the bathroom door. Sleeping pills.

He needed rest. Apparently, nothing could pull him away from everything. Reality stood around every corner, he had to get away from it.

He took five, six, maybe ten— he'd lost count, taking water from the sink and swallowing the tablets, not bothering to check how strong they were. Was he going crazy? He sure did feel like it; he meets one woman and his mind racks ways to overdose.

He let the water run over his hands, running them down his face and repeating the process over and over again before finally making his way back to the room he'd left around five minutes ago.

Mari was concerned the moment he'd left the room. Mick hadn't bothered to notice David's absence, too engulfed in whatever he was doing.

She almost got up to look for him before he finally returned, hands coming out of his pockets as he sat back down on the couch. He leaned back further than his original position, resting his hands on his temples as his eyes screwed shut.

"What's wrong?" she asked, walking towards him.

"I don't feel well. Headache."

She nodded, "Do you want me to take you home?"

He shook his head in response, "No, I'll be fine on my own."

He knew it was a lie. Of course, he hated to lie, but he hated the idea of having to bare the look of worry on her face the entire way home. It made him feel ashamed.

"Alright." She said, a low hesitation in her voice as she watched him get up from the seat he'd just sat down in and walk towards the exit.

"Bye Mari, thanks for the nice night."

"You're welcome David, stay safe!" She said as he made his way out.

He'd be fine, she had hope.

Though every time they saw each other, she had a burning fear of it being the last. What for, she didn't know. They didn't even know each other very well, but maybe it was the desire to get to know him. Maybe it was because she'd looked up to him for such a long time. Whatever it was, she always hoped to see him again.

***