Under Control.

chapter forty two.

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After Albert but before the room was full — before all the lights were switched on and the cameras, too — Julian and Nora steal one last moment for themselves.

There was a trick that happened, between off stage and on, and Nora had seen Julian and the band perform enough times now to recognise it when she saw it. It was a look in his eye but also a slight shifting of his whole being, and it made it so the version of Julian's honest self trailed him like a ghostly lag when he was being the version of himself he had to conjure to be able to get on stage.

Him on-stage was a slightly bigger, brasher, bolder, person — all voice and bravado and command. And, it was sexy. But it also wasn't him — wasn't the Julian that Nora had woken up to this morning, or gone to bed with last night. And she wasn't here for that guy — the onstage persona, the frontman who lived on the cover of magazines. No, Nora was here for the boy who was tucked up beside her now on this dressing room sofa — the boy with the wide eyes and the bee-stung lips who was ricocheting between looking nervous, and then like he wanted to just stay put and kiss her until time ran out.

And it was them together, just like they were, that sealed Nora's fate insofar as Ryan was concerned. Because he had seen the way that Julian could be soothed by the simple act of Nora just looking his way. He'd seen the brief stillness she could conjure in him just by touching him, and the way he'd relax from the ends of his wild hair to the tips of his scuffed up toes when their lips would meet. And so, that's when he'd decided — when he'd seen Julian's forehead pressed against Nora's with his eyes shut tight, his shoulders relaxed, and the beer in his hand temporarily forgotten about.

That was when he'd picked Nora to sit in the front row, right where Julian could see her — and everyone else, as well.

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When Ryan shows Nora to her seat while the band is still hovering in the wings and everyone else is already seated, there's a harumph and a few stray glares that get shot her way as a space is made to prop her up just to the right of stage — stage right; to Julian's left. And Nora's not thrilled about any of it.

Even though she's glad to be in the room, she'd never had any intentions of ending up at the very front of it. She doesn't like knowing that the girls she's sandwiched between feel jealous, or that she's being looked at, and seen. The idea of it all makes her uneasy, and then some. But in the end, she stays.

She sits and she watches and she lets herself be noticed, and she does it all for Julian. Because she can see it on him once he's up there, that he doesn't really want to be. And, she can see that he's glad she's nearby.

For his part, Julian likes the idea of Nora being right there — he likes the thought of being able to look over to her, and to see her, and of being made to feel real while he's up doing his thing, and being unreal while he does it. He likes how steady she is amongst the ruckus — peaceful among the screams, still against the rush, seeing him instead of just watching. And, he likes the way he knows she's there only for him — and them, the band — because she cares about the people they are off the stage more than she does about what they can do on it.

There's a feeling, in Nora's spot and in the room, that's kind of like magic.

None of what she can see or hear makes total sense — it shouldn't be so good. It shouldn't feel like this — not when they keep stumbling around like they are together, dropping ash and tripping over cords and spilling beer all over the place. And, Julian shouldn't be so good, either — not with a cigarette hanging from his mouth and a beer sloshing in his hand. He shouldn't be able to keep hitting his mark — not when he keeps having to storm across the stage to make it back to the mic in time.