His Dreams of Memories

8

Saturday night is his night. Julian takes songs that he's written, or a song that someone wants to hear, and plays it at the bar Damien owns. He's a big hit and is there every Saturday night.

"Hey, Damien, I'll be there in a few. I've, uh, been somewhere that... I'm a little bit away from the bar." Julian tapped his fingers on the console, watching the people in front of the Uber honk at one another. "And traffic's a bitch."

There was laughter on the other end. "I don't usually... ask you these things, but... were you with someone?" Julian flinched. "Sorry, I know how sensitive you are about these things, but you've been acting-"

"God no, Damien, I haven't done anything like that," Julian rubbed his eyes. "I just... I'll tell you over a glass. O-Obviously one." He licked his lips and sighed. "See you soon."

Sunsets are always beautiful. Orange and pink stretched across the sky while the sun slowly falls down the horizon. It's usually the perfect scenery to meet someone, it's usually something out of a fairy tale...

"Well, this would be lovely to write about." Jaskier breathed with a smile, ignoring the witch's eye roll. The bard wasn't ready to meet him- no, sir. He wanted to go straight back through the portal and drown himself in ale.

But, Yennefer blocked his path. "Alright, Jaskier, go to the inn. I don't know if Geralt's back from killing that pack of ghouls or not. But, the cemetery isn't far so he shouldn't be long." Her upper lip twitched. "Be good to him, will you?"

Before the bard could answer, Yennefer left through the same portal they came in. He wanted to tell her yes, he wanted to thank her, but something told him they would be seeing each other soon.

"What're you gonna sing?" Damien slid his friend a glass of ale then propped his elbows up to rest his head on his fists. "That song that you wrote, people had a big hit with that."

Julian shook his head. "Not quote that song, my friend. I've written a new one."

Damien arched a brow. "Have you now? Is it as depressing as the other one you wrote?"

The musician's upper lip twitched, but didn't quite transform into a smile. "Just a tad bit, I suppose. Perspectives and all that." Julian downed the rest of his ale, wiping the lingering liquid off his lips with his sleeve. "Well, off I go."

Yes, the song he was going to sing was quite depressing. 'Her Sweet Kiss' had been sad as well, but it hadn't been his song. The composer was Jaskier, not Julian.

Once he was done setting up, Julian propped himself up on a stool and reached for the microphone, a small grin on his face. As usual, his gesture brought a quick hush to the crowd. "How are you all doing tonight?" The opening question always had the same answer: people raising their glasses with a cheer. "Good, good. So," he began to strum at his guitar. "I hope you all don't mind a change in mood this evening. I wrote a song, and I'd like to share it." The crowd, once again, raised their glasses and cheered. "Great. I'm sure that some of us can relate to the feeling of heartbreak that most likely doesn't exist."

A man in the back raised his hand and shouted: "All the time!" Before being smacked by a woman beside him, to who Julian presumed to be the man's wife. Laughter filled the bar, and it boosted the musician's confidence. People wouldn't have a huge problem with his song, that was great.

"Here we go, then." The song was precisely what Julian said it would be. The words matched the mood... he sang of a lover who had been to Hell and back with him, but it hadn't been real. It was merely a dream, he would wake up in the wrong world with no one by his side. It was a dream that had been so close to reality that once he woke up, chains of heartache and wanting tugged at his heart, slowly breaking it into itty bitty little pieces in the process until there was nothing left.

Damien, who was leaning on the bar, watching his friend, cocked his head and frowned. He had a nagging feeling this is what had been wrong with Julian. Something was eating him alive, and only songs could express such feelings.

When Julian finished the song, he felt some weight lift from his shoulders. The crowd was equally pleased, even if his song changed the atmosphere, they enjoyed every part of it.

One thought crossed the musician's mind as he put away his things: 'Maybe now that I've let it out, things will go back to normal.'

But a second thought quickly destroyed the first: 'No matter what you do or try to do, you can't forget him.

You'll always come back.'