All Through Our Lives

September 1983, part I

New Jersey, September 1983

  "My life is done. Destroyed."
Jon was sitting on a material box, head in his hands, making his full-of-hairspray blond hair look like a lion's mane. At his side, Richie was tapping on his red electric guitar with the tip of his fingers, eyes in the vague.
Your first reaction entering the studio was coughing due to the smoke filling the room. You sniffed. It smelled like something had burnt. You had to walk some metres to actually see something through it. And what a vision: the set looked like a post-apocalyptic scene, with its rocks in polystyrene, metallic shapes and barrels. A black box with roulettes had been brought at the centre, a mic-stand on the floor next to it. You shrugged and said loudly, to warn of your presence: "What happened here?"

Your friend lifted his head and threw you a look of despair noticing you; his brown-haired bandmate next to him eyed you discretely. You glanced at him too, but your look moved back to Jon when you noticed him move.
He went to get up, and that's when he unfolded his body that you noticed his outfit: you couldn't help but laugh in front of the violet leather pants and pink jacket. He had a white torn t-shirt, darkened at some parts to look like it was dirty. Your friend and you both dressed roughly the same, always looking like you spent the night backstage at a rock concert, but there... He went hard.
  "Jon, oh my god..."
He dragged feet to you and nearly collapsed in your arms.
  "y/n, I think it's the worst day of my life. They ruined me. I'm never going to be famous, this is going to follow me everywhere."
You frowned, not having a single clue of what he was talking about.
You knew today was the day the video clip of Runaway, one of their songs, was going to be filmed. It would be the first song of the album, and the song they put a lot of hopes in. He asked you to come during the day of filming, the whole thing interesting you. You were expecting people everywhere, cameras, make-up artists, sound engineers... But all you were seeing was two desperate people in the middle of a questionable set, in questionable clothes. You had to squint to notice two cameras a little further. And all of that after getting nearly choked by smoke.
  "y/n! Wassup?" You turned and opened your arms, seeing who was coming to you: David took you in and held you close.
  "Well, me, good; but I feel like you have a lot of things to tell me." The keyboardist took a sip from his cup of coffee and shrugged. You raised an eyebrow. "That bad, uh?"
Jon said, still looking like he had the worst day of his life: "You know what? I don't even want to look at the result. Like, for me? Never happened. I swear, there is..."
He started explaining how the people here today acted like shit with them when your gaze looked between the two guys: on the box was still sat Richie. You knew his name, Jon had already talked about him to you, and seen that he had an electric guitar on his knees, you could guess it was him. He was wearing a black outfit, top opened. Well, he was better dressed than Jon. You crossed looks. Was he smiling at you? Since you came in, he hadn't moved, watching the scene shyly from his observing point. You waved at him to make him approach – and stop Jon from complaining a bit too.
Seen that he was already looking at you, he directly got up and walked to the little group, planting himself between Jon and David. It didn't make Jon stop talking though: "...and I thought there would be, like professionals you know. Like make-up artists, des-"
  "Jon, I already figured out there wasn't any stylist out here." You emphasized what you said by looking at him from his head to feet. He stopped and threw you a pissed look before shaking his head and huffing.
David took you by the shoulders: "This is my friend y/n!"
Richie's face enlightened and he nudged at Jon's side. He didn't take the hint and pouted at him: "Careful dude, you just hit me..."
You cleared your throat and looked at David, then Richie: "Yeah, but is it how you treat a friend? You don't even introduce me."
He complied and looked at him.
  "Well, Richie, this is y/n. y/n, this is Richie." Both of you nodded at the other. "y/n works with Jon at the recording studio, and is a future talented professional guitarist." You raised your hand to his sentence but he lowered it: "And the lady out here refused to be in our band, so, in a way, you can thank her to be here." Jon smiled at your side. David carried on: "And the three of us go out every Friday together!" He ended his sentence by a "Yoo-hoo!" and you pinched the bridge of your nose, huffing. Indeed, David being Jon's friend from school, you had met him by him some years ago.
  "Nice to meet you." You extended your hand with a smile.
He grabbed it.
  "Well, nice to meet you too, Jon's party colleague." He bent and kissed it. You laughed.
Jon grabbed his friend by the shoulder and straightened him: "Oh no Rich, her, you won't touch her." It took his face three seconds to be all red. You huffed and put a hand in front of your mouth. Jon carried on, to his friend's disbelief: "No shit, with everyone I found back in your bed some mornings..."
You made the "time" movement with your hands: "Right! So, I propose we go out of this mess and never talk about it again, okay? Let's change your minds." You grabbed Jon and David's arms and looked at Richie, who was still recovering from his friend's speech.
He took the control of himself back and put his hand on his heart and gasped in surprise:  "Wait... You... You propose me to be your party colleague." You laughed to his words, once again, and made a movement of your head towards the exit.

-

  "And then, the girl was doing... Fuck I don't even know how to phrase it. Like, super weird movements."
David patted Jon's arm.
  "Dude, move on."
Jon gasped: "No! Plus, we need to tell y/n."
You took your glass and raised it to him.
The singer got up and moved his hand towards you. "Look." He first shook his head up and down, wanting to move his hair in a dramatic way – but as it was full of hairspray, it just bobbled a bit. You threw the others questioning looks. He put his hands above his head and started to move his hips, doing eight-shapes with his pelvis. David made his head fall on the table in a loud thud and Richie burst in laughs. You nearly spat what was in your mouth, took off of your chair and extended your hand to grab him by the jacket to sit him back down.
  "Oh my god Jon, there are children out here!" You glanced around you in the bar; at the table next to you, an old couple was looking at you in shock.
Richie swiped his eyes. He pointed at the table: "Bro, I think we might get people call the police for outrage..."
You added: "And we're not talking about your pants."
Richie and you nudged at each other at your common pun. Jon threw you offended looks and pouted. David sat back in his chair, hand on his heart, out of breath due to his laugh.
You took your empty glass and raised it, signalling the others you were going to the bar for a refill. You got up and headed to it, placing yourself in the queue.
You suddenly felt someone tap your right shoulder and turned: no one. You frowned, and looked back in front of you: you nearly jumped when you noticed at your left Richie looking at you expectantly, a huge smile on his face. You tried your best to not laugh to this – honestly? – but failed.
  "Okay, I see why y'all get on. You are big children."
  "Yet I'm three years older than them." You raised eyebrows. There were two people in front of you yet. You heard him clear his throat. "So. You're a guitarist, right?"
You grinned.
  "I don't know. Is it to keep the conversation going?"
He grabbed his chin between two fingers and lifted his eyes, feigning thinking.
  "Mmh... Well, you unmasked me. I'll have to change my plans."

You laughed. He was clearly flirting with you, and you couldn't say it displeased you – you would be lying if you said he didn't catch your eye. But something tickled: Jon had depicted him as a ladies' man earlier, and that kind of person usually irritated you.
He suddenly grabbed you by the shoulders and shifted the both of you to the side. He addressed to the person behind you: "After you." The woman looked at you frowning, and stepped forward. Still holding you, he put you back in the queue behind her. He looked at you: "Here! I just won three minutes."
You rolled your eyes, and once again tried to hold your laugh. "So, we were saying. You're a guitarist."
You nodded. "Indeed I am."
He scratched his head.
  "And why didn't you join Jon's band?"
You tilted your head to the side.
  "Well, I like independence. I don't want to depend on anybody, you know. Plus, playing with several bands brings experience."
He nodded with understanding. "And which band have you played with?"
You raised your finger. "This, Mister Sambora, is a question asked a bit too early." He smiled, making your heart jump in your chest. You shook your head. "As I understood, it's a common point between us." He tilted his head to the side, not getting it. You approached your face from his: "Not getting engaged and just being there for an occasion."
His head dropped back and he bit his lip. You got him. You saw his cheeks getting a bit pink.
  "Ma'am?"
You turned to the barman who just called you, and asked for the same he gave you earlier.
You turned to Richie. You still wore a grin.
  "And you? Where is your glass?"
He passed his hand through his hair.
  "Oh no, my glass is still on the table, only half empty." You frowned slightly. "Yeah, I just came here to flirt with you."