DOWN BAD | JULIAN CASABLANCAS

XVII.

His gaze split daggers through her chest as he glared at her on his doorstep. Her expression twitched as it hardened. Neither of them would back down. "What the hell are you doing here?" he muttered through gritted teeth, hand clasped tightly around the doorknob. It was almost as if he towered above her, she stood on the ledge with her eyes glazed over. Neither one could intimidate the other if they tried, both were hurt and confused. "I don't know." She mumbled, her resolve weakening at the sight of his pale skin and the overgrown tips of hair that framed his face. It had been weeks since she had seen that soft jawline and that sharp nose. For a second, his nonchalance seemed to morph into the only display of true emotion he'd ever shown her. Anger.

Stella refused to back down. Her foot was as good as nailed into the concrete below her. She had dreamed of this moment for many days and many nights. Of how to approach the subject with either a seductive touch or a screaming match. Their complicated "relationship" continuously on the edge of stability and death. When the highs were high, they could reach up and touch the stars. A stellar explosion of bodies moving in synchronization, the warmth and buzz of their mingling breathing entwined in his bunk in the cold mornings on the road. The lows crashed into the ocean rocks covering their bay with waves of terror and flashing warnings reading "THE END IS NEAR." After nearly two years of being strung along, she had found no relief and felt he'd sowed her fertile land enough to cause a drought. The idea of a relationship felt suffocating to him especially on the cusp of fame.

"You think this is a game?" he scoffed, "I have an album coming out in three months, I don't have time to play high school games, Stella." She wanted to roll her eyes, but her mouth involuntarily began moving. "Then maybe you should think about who you run around with." She crossed her arms with a small, smug huff. Julian felt the anger brewing within him as she began to run her mouth again. Every word out of her mouth seemed to infuriate him more and more. Julian had deeply retreated into his music in the wake of her fit. He didn't have time to be going back and forth with a teenager who wouldn't truly provide any help outside of picking what jacket he should wear onstage. "You're a groupie, Stella! You don't mean anything, neither do your hissy fits!"

A match strike of fury lit up her entire body, warmth filling every crack in her skin. All the sweet whispers between bunks and warm kisses beneath rehearsal stage lights. Stella's eyes fluttered shut, a deep sigh escaped his lips. He held the arrow aimed straight at her chest, leaning, and tugging back with perfect precision. Her gaze avoided his as he ran a hand down his face, "I'm sorry. It's not like that." Julian drew back his gun, holstering his fiery tongue when Stella's eyes softened with that specific sadness he had grown to know so well. "I was just- Sorry," his body turned away from hers on the steps whilst she hugged herself in shame. "No, I shouldn't have acted like that. I know I don't have that authority." A croak escaped her lips leaving her pale and dimmed in his presence. He unchained the door, revealing the hallway she knew well and the face she had last seen splashed in scotch.

"I hate you." He murmured with a soft smirk teasing at the corner of his lips mirroring the one on her own, "C'mere." The tide pulled her right back in with strong arms around her waist and a sweet kiss. His fingers laced through her blonde locks as she smiled against his lips as if nothing had ever happened. The status quo was set, they had become a rotating door amid the scene. "No more of that jealous bullshit," he whispered as he nudged her nose with his, eliciting a giggle from Stella, "I mean it. Loosen up, baby." He tapped her nose as he dragged her into the hall, "And no more drink throwing." Stella nodded; her fingers entwined with his. "Okay, promise."

The coffee mug steamed from the littered table in his apartment, perfectly tailored to her taste as she stretched her cat legs over the arm of the sofa. Her hair splayed over his arms as her head was nestled in his chest. "This is all I have so far, I mean it's concise. We've recorded most of it." She giggled softly while flipping through his scribbled notepad of lyrics, humming to herself the notes he'd written on the side. "I like it," she murmured before stumbling on the full track list with a soft snort, "barely legal?". Her eyes flicked upwards at his smirking face, grinning like a devil. "It'll make for a great story, huh? Notre Dame?" the cigarette smoke curled from his lips into the evening air. "Shut up." She gently giggled as he stole a kiss from her reddened lips.

This incident would unknowingly set the precedent for their relationship. Always pulling them in despite futile attempts to look the other way. In that moment, time only existed outside the half-drawn blinds. Inside, they were sheltered from what would become decades of turbulent fate.