Scarlett saw him. She saw him in billboards and newspapers, magazines and occasional evening talk show appearances. She didn't bother to buy tickets to those, meeting him again had to be unforced. She wasn't sure if she wanted to see him again either.
He was everywhere, jumping all over the state with a setlist and a few hundreds stuffed in his back pocket. After every show, he offered the crowd a charming wave and was tossed into the back of his car for another trip. He didn't even get to comb his hair or change his coat. If they focused enough, the lucky few who snatched front row seats could spot discolored patches on the ends when he sat down.
He couldn't deny that he loved it. He hadn't slept in days and everyone he met had to speak on his right since his left ear was going deaf, but that didn't matter. Ashton loved it. The people that would listen to him when he was convinced before that no one would. The harsh lights that forced him to stare at his feet while making his entrance. The screaming that was unbearable the first time, but was a wrap of comfort around him now. The swaying shadows that captivated him when looking up. He hadn't seen any of it before and now that he had he couldn't picture letting it fly away from his hands. He had to hold onto it.
Holding on meant letting go of the girl.
Ashton missed her, but that's not what it was. He wasn't willing to chase her down or ask his manager to poke around and find out where she lived. First of all, he didn't need to. She would be easy to find, and Ashton knew the street and number of the bar. He could go back and see that she hadn't moved from where he had left her, but he couldn't.
He hadn't gone far, but it was far enough. Distance from Scarlett had done what it was supposed to: unravel him from her. Spinning back was unimaginable and seemed rather silly. Besides, separation fueled his passion more than being with her ever did. There was pain, but the pain only boosted him up, hungered him for something better. She was fluttery and bold first hand, but the memories of her were lovely and stormy.
***
A flyer lay on the sidewalk and it was already the lowest place it could be, but Scarlett wanted to stamp it into the ground more. It had his face on it, toothy and mocking to say the least, with her title for him as the headline. Piano Man, come see the Piano Man. As if it wasn't cold enough already with the wind taunting at her shoulders. She passed the flyer in its quivering state.
Ashton had his day off, but he didn't view it that way. Ever since starting his gig, every day was a busy one and going out meant dressing up as someone else. Or at least, someone unrecognizable. Hats, scarves, gloves, sunglasses on sunless days. They were another burden to his glamour. No one treated him the same, and that wasn't a bad thing, but it had its flaws.
His face was printed on places that he didn't think they could be which was weird. Sometimes it was degrading to see his eyes staring back at him from the garbage or on the wall when he was trying to go to the bathroom. He started looking in mirrors less since he saw enough of himself from other sources. He became bored and unconcerned with his appearance.
Ashton kicked at the sidewalk, litter scrambling away into the street. The clouds above pressed down on him, joining with the smoke and the city sewer's distinct scent. He made out another flyer of himself a few feet ahead, sticking to the dull sidewalk-y muck with one corner wishing to be pulled free. He passed it and looked at it from the corner of his eye.
Scarlett turned around when she saw another flyer.
Ashton pocketed one before it escaped into the gutter.
She recognized his hair.
He recognized her composure. She thought she could pass without an awkward hello.
"Scar!" he called right before they met. The nickname was new and he used it because that's what she was: a cut that was bound to scar later. It didn't hurt much initially, but it sucked when he realized that she would still be there after her image faded. There was an edge to her smile like she wanted to leave and wanted to jump into his arms right there.
"You're... you still," she said. Her muscles didn't allow her to smile, but Ashton's didn't stop his. His whole face wasn't in it though. His eyes were round and panicked, like when that old man picked him out from the crowd and ushered him towards the piano, towards this. That led him to a better future than what this outcome would bring.
"I can't say you haven't called, I guess. I didn't ask you for your number," Ashton replied. No, you left without a word, Scarlett swallowed to try to get rid of the words but they remained. She couldn't spit at him.
"No."
"I, uh- what have you been doing?"
"I mean, you already know." He did.
"I'm trying to get a show at the bar," Ashton said, tilting his head to look into her eyes more. She kept her gaze straight at him.
"John will be thrilled." Even if he went back, Scarlett would be sure not to show up. She wasn't like one of his songs that he could just play whenever. She had learned.
"Have you seen these?" he asked, pulling out what she had, indeed, already seen. She had seen too much. He was going elsewhere, being with other people, sleeping with someone in his bed instead of on a stool. Not that she had wanted to sleep with him in the first place, but it shocked her to know that he could if he wanted to - he could get anybody there now. She didn't count herself a priority to him, instead she was a girl that he met in the early years who helped him pursue his love for music. She helped him only by being a warm body and being somebody to leave, somebody to produce lyrics about when the time arrived. And to think that she was the writer here. "They put a number on here and people think it's mine, but it's just my manager's. He doesn't answer."
"And he's smart for that," Scarlett told him. Ashton smirked, reaching in his pockets for a pen or something that could help him out. She was snarky; that was new. His hand glided across the tattered page, blotchy numbers on a red background. Scarlett wouldn't read them.
"There's something more personal if you want it."
"Okay."
"I have to get going."
"Wait," she barely got the word out. She wished she had kept quiet but she didn't want to keep a pathetic link to him. She reached in her pockets and pulled out her song - their song really, but not anymore. "Don't forget this."
"Okay."
"Nice to see you, Ash."
"I'm glad I could see you again." She nodded and it hurt to force happiness on her lips. She only needed to for a moment because he reflected her expression and went ahead. He wasn't paying attention and ran into a girl with a red coat. Scarlett had her back to him, but still heard him when he asked, "Are you alright?"
The flustered girl let out an audible "yes" and seemed to scurry away. Scarlett imagined she would do the same.
a/n: okay so this is the end !! I went back and edited, and I hope it's at least a little bit better now and more sensical. I hope y'all liked it.
