𝙵𝙾𝚁𝙶𝙴𝚃 𝙷𝙴𝚁࿐ ྂ ᴊᴇꜰꜰ ʙᴜᴄᴋʟᴇʏ

ꜰᴏʀᴛʏ-ᴛʜʀᴇᴇ

MARCH 18th, 1994
LONDON.ೃ࿐

JEFF WAS ALWAYS ON TIME WITH THE PHONE CALLS,

if he was late, he'd let Polly know in advance. But he almost always stuck to their agreed upon time, calling the moment he stepped into whatever Motel he was being put up in, the calls sometimes lasting until either she or he finally fell asleep.

He would detail shows for her, the good and the bad. It seemed like they went better as the tour progressed, much thanks to Dave for advising Jeff to be more organized and formal. He'd reminded him that not every venue was like Sin-è, and to have an actual set list.

Jeff had complied with Dave's advice, and things significantly improved. By the time they had arrived in Europe, Jeff felt as if he had a hang of things, Dave would say he 'still had a lot to learn,' of course.

A few weeks into the tour, Steve, Polly's boss, had granted her time off for a week in March. He'd called it a work trip, to see how things were going with Jeff and Dave, but he'd given it to her, not anyone else.

Steve knew how much it meant to the both of them.

༻✦༺

Bunjies was a tiny little folk club and coffee shop, but the 'club' really just looked like an ancient wine cellar.

As the sound check went on, the line only grew longer for Jeff's show, now at least four blocks down the street.

Jeff had a request, white roses to pass out to the line as they entered the club. Polly joined Dave in the hunt for his flower of choice. They bought several bouquets and helped give them away.

Polly looked at Jeff as they passed them out. He looked so happy, doing what he loved. He couldn't believe that all those people were there for him, but Polly could. As he sung to the crowd stuffed into the cellar, his attention remained on his girlfriend, beyond pleased she was there.

At the end of the show, he passed out the rest of the roses, saving what he thought the best one was for Polly.

"For you." He held the rose out for her. "It's not wrinkled or anything." He smiled, and Polly smiled back, basking in the joy that seeing him brought.

She took it, holding the delicate flower in her hands as he kissed her. "I wouldn't care if it was wrinkled."

"I know. But I still wanted you to have the best one." He stared down at the rose in her hands, and in the moment he thought what he had thought many times over- though this time he truly believed it. They'd be together forever, and he had no doubt about it.

He hoped one day he'd make enough money from the music for Polly to join him on his tours, so that they never would have to be apart again, even though he knew that they could withstand the long distance.

They walked along Litchfield street hand in hand, and even though now they'd been officially together for over a year and a half, Polly couldn't believe she was there- in another country, with a stable job, a loving man.

Jeff often thought like this as well, though in these little moments his head was perpetually in the clouds as he glanced at Pollys face in the moonlight, thinking how pretty her eyes were and her smile along with the little details that made her so perfect to him. He let himself get lost in the thought of her, and her only.

In her free hand that wasn't being held, Polly still clutched onto the rose, slightly drooping now, but still looked perfect to her. She had already decided that she'd bring it back with her to New York, as something to remember the short trip by.

She smiled as she thought about bringing the flower back home, as well as Jeff returning only a few short days after she did. She knew he'd be busy putting the finishing touches on Grace with his newfound band, but at least they'd be in the same country, be sharing the same home once again after the two months they spent apart.

Even though the room they had been staying in for the past week was cramped and had a slight musk to it, there was no place they'd rather be except side by side on the lumpy queen mattress with the tacky floral quilt.

Jeff played his telecaster unplugged as he sat on the foot of the bed, cigarette hanging from his slightly parted lips as he sang ever so softly. Polly let her eyes close as she tried to tune out every other random and unwanted noise, focusing on only his songs.

She almost liked listening to him better like this, it was so much more raw, so much more real. Less of a production with amps and microphones and a crowd, Polly alone was his crowd, and she loved it. She loved the intimacy of their smoky hotel room, she loved when he passed her the guitar and instructed her to play various chords as he sung.

Nothing could, or ever, compare to nights like those, and they both believed that wholeheartedly.

༻✦༺

a/n
this is so so short, but just kinda a filler chapter so I don't write a bunch abt them being apart for 2 months. anyways, thank you sm for reading, and I hope (and am planning) on this story getting more interesting very, v soon!! ‼️💟