âmes pétillantes ~ classic rock imagines

• Jeff Buckley •

Hi everyone! Long time no see, but I've had several mental breakdowns over both my work and personal life, and haven't been able to do much besides eat cake and watch South Park. But, I am back and, hopefully, with a passion!

This was a request from http_AlePark for a piece about Jeff Buckley! I apologise endlessly for the wait. But, I hope you enjoy all the same 😊

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The arguments were becoming almost routine. Every night, Jeff would walk through the door after a day of not being with you and an evening of hiding in the studio after everyone had gone home. He wasn't even responsive to your polite questions, your 'how was your day's, 'what have you been working on today's, 'how's Dave doing's. And he showed little interest in asking you anything about your day either.

All he seemed to want to do was argue. It's not that he came home in a bad mood every night. But he came home and found something that seemed to put him in a bad mood. And he found ways to take this bad mood out on you.

It was becoming impossible to cope with. At first, when Jeff approached you with his dopy grin and shining eyes to tell you that he would be working on his second album, you were genuinely excited for him. You knew how Jeff worked, and were prepared to accommodate this new focus.

He enjoyed wandering around during his endless summer days watching and gaining inspiration, and his evenings in the depths of the impromptu studio his managers had set up for him.

His arrivals at the studio were always unannounced, just like his arrivals at home. The crew could be hanging around all day, and Jeff would roll up at any time after 4 o'clock with nothing but a guitar, wow them behind the mic for several hours, before leaving them like the shadow he was when he came in.

Sometimes he'd come home then. Other times, he'd head out to wherever took his fancy. Often, this was the apartments of friends, although perhaps he'd go by himself to take in a movie he didn't particularly want to watch, or simply wander off into the night until he found his way home.

The mismatching schedules you could deal with. Even the coming home late after spending some time out and about. But the arguments... they were breaking your spirit in two.

But it all came to a head one late evening. On this night, he caught you on a bad day. You'd come home after several long hours on your feet at the café that you once loved and the apartment was as silent as the grave, as it had been for the last few weeks. Jeff was never home. Never there to greet you with his disarming smile, kiss you like he'd never known anything besides you and your lips, hold you to protect you from the darkness outside. Never there at all.

You tried to not let it bother you, like you did every night. But, as you slouched into the couch with no energy to even reach for the television remote, you realised that it really bothered you.

It was like you two were strangers all over again. Two ghosts floating through the same house, never allowed to touch, only to glide through one another like neither of you were even there. A cosmic joke of the universe. And your relationship was quickly becoming the punchline.

Staring out of the window as though the stars would spell out the answer, your thoughts simmered like a boiling pot. Where on Earth did he, your boyfriend, your lover, disappear to if it wasn't back to you? Did he not want to spend his time with you anymore? It had been his idea to move in together - was he just looking for an underpaid housekeeper? Ha, like you had the energy or willpower to keep house anymore as it was.