separation ; reggie peters (julie and the phantoms)

1: 11 minutes

I'm just thinkin' all these thoughts up in my mind

Talkin' love but I can't even read the signs

I would sell my soul for a bit more time.

- halsey, 11 minutes

December 17th, 1995

"Reggie, we're going to be late. You have got to hurry up!"

With an open hand, Quinn banged on the bathroom door three more times, equaling up to...she'd honestly lost count. It seemed like Reggie had been in the bathroom for hours, but she attributed part of that to how painstakingly slow the day had passed. Between the nerves and the excitement leading up to Sunset Curve's performance at the Orpheum, a minute spent in that day had felt like an hour.

She raised her hand to hit the door again, only for it to swing open. The scent of Polo Sport hit her like a brick, her face scrunching up for a second before she quirked an eyebrow at the boy. Reggie stood in front of her with a smirk on his face, adjusting his leather jacket, leaning in the doorway. She lowered her hand, crossing both arms over her chest.

"How many times have I told you...you can't rush perfection?" he chuckled, running a hand over his gelled hair.

Quinn rolled her eyes, "Soundcheck is in 45 minutes and we are 30 minutes away!" She let out a huff of frustration.

"So, we have about, what?" he paused, glancing up as if he were thinking, "Fifteen minutes until we have to go so..."

Without missing a beat, Reggie leaned in, attempting to press a kiss to Quinn's burgundy painted lips. She took a swift step back, the corner of her lip curving up as he stumbled forward a slight bit, his eyebrows furrowing.

"You really should've tried that before I put my lipstick on." she grinned, pursing her lips.

"So, you're like...mad, mad, huh?" he questioned, putting his back to the wall, his hands coming together in plea, "Okay, but...mad as my manager or mad as my girlfriend...or both...please don't be both."

"I'm not mad at all. I'm irritated as your manager, really nervous as your girlfriend." she said, raising her hand to her mouth, biting at her already chipped black nails.

"Psh, you've got nothing to worry about. We've got this. We're Sunset Curve. We're going to be the next big thing. First the Orpheum, next the second annual Warped Tour. You know, that is, if tonight isn't a disaster and we don't fail miserably...or die." His expression dropped and his eyes darted to the floor between both his and Quinn's black boots.

"What is going on inside of your head, dude?" she shook her head incredulously, "Pretty sure you can't die of embarrassment. If that's the case, Luke would've died when he drunk called Alex the day after they broke up singing 'Don't Speak' ."

Reggie let out a snort of laugher, "Now, we don't speak of it." He shot a finger gun towards Quinn.

"You are such a dork." she laughed, reaching up to pat his cheek with her palm, "Come on, rock star, you've got a show to play."

The hustle and bustle of the Hollywood music scene never failed to amaze Quinn, despite being Sunset Curve's official manager for the past 10 months. When they arrived at the Orpheum, there were already people waiting outside of the venue. Once they got inside, there were employees shuffling across what would later become the pit, discussing the upcoming show and working to make sure the experience was something their guests would never forget.