Star Crossed

Gena must have returned to the house sometime while I was at the hospital, because when I finally did return home late that night I found that all of her clothes were gone. I almost regretted throwing her out, simply because coming home to an empty house was strange. Even having somebody to rage at would have been better. I wandered the place absently, never staying in one room for anymore than a few minutes before moving on. I just couldn't find my place.

I jumped noticeably when the doorbell sounded from downstairs. I wasn't expecting anybody, and people didn't often come door-knocking at this hour of the night. I approached carefully, peering out through the peek-hole before making my decision about whether or not I was going to answer. Seeing Johnny's mess of hair, I pulled the door open.

"Hey," he said at once. "I hope you don't mind me coming here. I just...didn't want to be alone right now, and Lacey's out of town."

"You know you're always welcome here," I reminded him, stepping aside to grant him entry. "Besides, the company wouldn't be so bad."

"Gena come back?" he asked casually as we made our way into my living room. "I didn't see her car, but I guess it could be hiding."

"She's not here," I assured him. "All of her clothes were gone when I got back, too. So it looks like she got to point."

"Good riddance," he muttered. "Seriously, I can't believe her..."

I felt like a teenage girl, sitting there in my living room with Johnny, bitching about Gena and all the things that she had stupidly done while we were together. All that we needed was a few good chick flicks and several tubs of ice cream.

"So, how long do you give it before he wakes up?"

Johnny's sudden change in subject surprised me. I glanced over at him.

"Brian?"

"Of course Brian. Who else would I be talking about?"

He could have been talking about the dog for all I knew, but I chose not to say this aloud. I thought we had been on the same page about avoiding the subject of Brian, but it seemed I had been wrong. I shrugged absently, not knowing how to answer.

"Soon, I hope," I said at long last. "I mean, we need him, don't we? We start recording in like two weeks. Not that I can see that happening unless he's okay in time."

My words came out quickly. Too quickly. It was his turn to give me a funny look, though for what reason I did not know. My answer came a moment later.

"It's okay to say you're worried about him, y'know? We all do."

"Well, of course I'm worried about him. I would think that was a given without me having to say it out loud."

"Nobody else seems to have a problem with it."

I shrugged, hoping that this was enough of an indication to Johnny that I wanted the subject to be changed. Quickly. To my utter dismay, he didn't. Indeed, he pushed the subject further.

"I know you're not trying to be inconsiderate," he began cautiously, "but, well, that's how it's starting to come across. You hardly said a word about it to Brian Senior when you spoke today."

"His son is in the hospital. I didn't think he needed reminding."

"What's going on between you?" he asked suddenly, curiousity taking over. "Between you and Brian."

"Nothing," I replied truthfully. "There's nothing going on between us."

He didn't outright call me a liar, but the look he gave me said more than his words ever could. Realising that he wasn't going to change the subject for me, I decided to do it myself.

"You wanna practice?"

He agreed, and we migrated across the hall to my home studio. It had for so long been my sanctuary away from Gena when she was parading the house like she owned the place. Now it could be exactly what it was supposed to be, and nother more, if I chose: our practice space. It provided everything we needed.

We set to work quickly, silently falling into sync with each other. It wasn't a conscious choice, but we took to practising some of the newer music that had been written. I couldn't remember any of the lyrics that Matt or Jimmy had written for the songs, so I took to making up my own lines in my head.

Without having realised it, my lyrics took on a tune of their own that I started playing on my guitar. Johnny stopped strumming his bass to listen, his face blank. I chanced a glance at him once I realised what I was doing.

"Sorry. Didn't mean to get side tracked."

"Sometimes it's a good thing."

I grabbed pen and paper, something that we always had nearby, and scribbled down both the lyrics from my head and the chords that I'd been playing. Intrigued, Johnny moved from his strings over to the piano. He wasn't as good at playing it as the others (nor was I, for that matter) but he could get the general sound that we needed, and for now that was all that mattered.

Before I knew it, we had our song; the piano was choppy, the lyrics weren't worthy of anything Matt could have written, but it was decent and it was done. We were both satisfied with it, and for the moment that was all that mattered.

"You should look over these again later," Johnny insisted, jabbing at the lyrics that were sprawled out on the floor between us. We sat with our backs to the wall, beer and cigarettes in hand. Screw ice cream. "I think you could put a lot more heart into them."

"Saying I'm a crappy lyricist, Christ?"

"Compared to Matt?" I rolled my eyes, and he pushed on. "I don't mean anything bad by it. Just that I think you've got a little more you could put into it. These words say a lot about what we're all feeling, but not much about what you must be feeling."

I was half way through bringing my smoke up to my mouth when he words hit me. I lowered it, giving him my full attention as I studied him. He looked back just as intently, his expression neutral.

"How long have you known?"

"A while. But don't worry. I'm the only one who's noticed. As far as I know, anyway."

I didn't know how I felt about this. About his knowing. About him having known for a while. But he didn't seem to be mocking me or attacking me for it, so that was definitely a good start.

"So...you're okay with it?"

"With you crushing on Brian? It was a little weird at first, but sure. I mean, in the long run, what's wrong with it?"

Crushing on Brian. If only it were as simple as that. Still, I gave him a smile of thanks. He nodded back.

"Well, I'm gonna crash on your couch if you don't mind," he went on, scratching his head. "See ya when I wake up."

"Yeah, see ya..."

He departed the room, no doubt heading back towards my living room. I let him go, allowing my focus to drift back down to the papers lying beside me. I hesitated for only a second before I grabbed the pen again and got to work.