𝐋𝐎𝐌𝐋², jack champion

022, 𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧𝐭𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬

022, 𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧𝐭𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬
irl + social media

THIRD PERSON +
november 3, 2024

It was early November, the air in Los Angeles crisp in comparison to the usual sun beating down on them with the onset of fall, and the low hum of the city seemed almost distant from Juniper's secluded space.

Her house had become a sanctuary over the last few weeks, a place where she could hide from the world, from her thoughts, and from Vinnie. Since his birthday party—the night they shared a drunken kiss during that reckless game of spin the bottle—things had shifted between them in ways neither had anticipated.

That kiss, brief and careless under the influence of alcohol and weed, had lingered in the back of her mind ever since. But the haze of the night made it impossible for her to know whether the feelings that bubbled up during that moment were real or just products of intoxication. And that uncertainty gnawed at her.

Juniper had been subconsciously avoiding Vinnie ever since, her days spent hunkered down in her Hollywood Hills home, pouring her confusion and pain into her music. She thought keeping her distance would help, would give her clarity, but it only made the knot in her chest tighter.

The kiss wasn't the only thing weighing on her mind. Jack had been on her mind more than usual lately, too. His birthday was fast approaching—November sixteenth—and the reminder stung. She couldn't ignore how much she missed him, how the sharp edges of their breakup had dulled over time, but the ache never really left.

She sat at her grand piano, surrounded by a chaotic mess of sheet music, scrawled lyrics, and notes, all half-formed thoughts and melodies. Her songbook lay open on the bench next to her, and her fingers idly played a haunting chord progression that had been consuming her thoughts for days now.

The song she'd started on the plane weeks ago, which she tentatively titled "loml,"— because she couldn't decide between 'love of my life,' or 'loss of my life.'—felt like it could be one of the most poetic things she'd ever written. It wasn't like the music from Short n' Sweet, which was still enjoying its massive success in the charts.

This song was different—more personal, more raw, and the emotion behind it scared her.

She thought of Jack while she wrote it, of course. He had been her muse, her source of inspiration for so long, and while their love had once felt light and beautiful, her heartbreak had been a much heavier muse. The songs she had written since their split carried a weight her previous work didn't. And sometimes, when the insecurity crept in, she worried about how people would react to her new sound, how it would be received. The music was so unlike anything she had done before—darker, more vulnerable. What if no one liked it?

Normally, she would've turned to Jack for reassurance. He had always been her rock when it came to her music, at least the past year or so, the one who lifted her up when she doubted herself. His words, his unwavering belief in her talent, had been a constant source of strength. But now, he wasn't there, and she was left with the disorienting silence of her thoughts.

A sudden knock on the door broke her concentration. Juniper hesitated, her hands hovering above the keys for a moment before she sighed and got up. She wasn't expecting anyone.

But when she opened the door, her breath caught slightly.

Vinnie stood there, a nervous smile on his face, holding an iced vanilla latte in his hands—one of her favourites.