Run (John O'Callaghan Fanfiction)

Chapter 7 - John

I still felt as though there wasn't anything for me to really do, here. It's stupid.

Tempe is my home, always has been. Why do I feel like this? 21 years old, and I want to go home. Real home. Waking up in the mornings to my family having breakfast together, or something. Not that anything of the sort was an everyday thing, but it was nice if that ever did happen. 21 years old, and I want to be back out on the road. Singing my heart out every night to hundreds of people singing back to me. I want to have a hard time sleeping in a bunk on a crowded tour bus. I don't care. I hate it when we're touring, but when I get back home, I wish I could get right back to it. I will admit, sleeping in my own bed is definitely better than a cramped bunk in a hallway that smells like sweat and dudes.

Either way, I think I'd rather be in a stinky bunk with my best friends in a too-small tour bus, being something. Rather than laying here, being nothing. At first it's a wonderful feeling, being home, doing nothing. Then it starts to wear on you. Being so... So directionless.

Technically, I'm off work, but I'm still working my ass off. Not necessarily on purpose. I just keep writing songs and trying to do new things with my music. Fuck, I need to get out more. I'm driving myself insane, staying cooped up in my house 24/7.

I regroup and decide to head out to my favorite coffee shop. I argue whether to drive my truck or to walk, and walking seems like it will keep me out longer, so I shut out my inner thoughts, and head out the door in my jeans and Tom Petty and The Heartbreakers t-shirt.

Thinking and walking, walking and thinking. Tripping.

"God damn fuckin' rocks." I mumble, fixing my shoe on my foot. I huff and continue to walk, the buildings coming into view from where I stand.

I open the door to the medium sized shop, and a blast of air conditioning hits my face.

No matter how many fuckin' times I come in here, I'll never get used to that. Gets me every time.

One of my good friends, Danny, owns the place. I come all the time when I'm not touring. Been gone for a while, so this is the first time I've been in since I've been back. I take a few quick glances around, but I dont see him. I shrug and trudge up to the counter, thinking about what to buy.

I lift my gaze to see who the person at the cash register is, and my breathe hitches.

Its her. It's Lyric.

I didn't think I'd ever see her again. I cant stop staring. It's probably weird that I'm looking at her so hard, but I can't help it.

Her face has plagued my mind for almost 2 weeks. And now she's stood right in front of me, and she probably has no remembrance of me. She turns her head and looks at me, and her facial expression changes from confusion to recognition.

"Lyrick." I say shakily, not even believing myself.