All At Once

Three days into the same routine, Bryn strides in purposefully, looking like herself again. The sleeves of her denim button-up are rolled up to her elbows and the bottom is tucked into her pale red skinny jeans, also rolled up, to about mid-calf. There's an old leather belt he's certain he's seen Luke wearing before and loafers with what looks like pictures of cats drinking tea on them.

Because Joe's decided today wasn't an alcohol today, it was more of a weed-and-alcohol day, he laughs and says, Hellooooooo. to Bryn.

In the light of the single lit lamp, he sees her roll her eyes and smile, maybe even a little affectionately. He grins back, too. And then there's light, light everywhere, so painful that Joe physically recoils and yelps with his face smushed into the couch. He hears Bryn laughing over the clacking of blinds being pulled up and decides he hates everything, starting with her.

Joseph, Joseph, Joseph, she says, and he cracks open an eye at her. The light streaming in from behind sets her hair aglow and the rings she has on her fingers twinkle like stars. Joe can't decide if he loves the giant window behind her or hates it. The Raves have a concert tonight, she says, starting to move the alcohol away from the coffee-table and into the kitchen, and you're coming.

Joe nods. He's not sure why and he doesn't particularly care to overanalyze. Bryn stays with him until the concert, helps him clean up and calls through the bathroom door every minute or so to make sure he hasn't drowned himself. They put away the pile of DVDs on the floor together, talking in hushed voices, Oh, I loved Downey in this, or, God, can you believe how much they fucked that book up?, and eat cupcakes from the bakery one of Bryn's friends owns and vegetables from Luke's fridge. Neither of them feel inclined to cook properly, so they just eat them raw.

At eight, Bryn glances at the old leather watch on her wrist and jumps up. That's us, she says. Let's go. Joe nods and stands, and they walk out of the apartment and into a taxi without cleaning up the mess of food they left behind.

The venue is called The Yelp (somebody's graffitied Not the website!) underneath), and it's small enough to be intimate but big enough to lose yourself in the crowd. The rest of The Raves scream Joeeee! when they see him and Joe can't help grinning back at the four men as they clap him on the back or pull him in for a hug. Bryn and Luke deposit him side stage and Joe lets himself forget about them and lose himself in the music. It's not what he normally listens to, but he likes to think of himself as a person who just appreciates art in general, so he stands and listens, thinks about the way Bryn murmured, Stay, you'll see, like a secret before running off.

An English band called You Me At Six finish off to a roaring crowd, and then The Raves are up. Bryn tosses a smile over her shoulder as she runs up and Luke claps him on the back and points at him in a serious, You better be doing well, face. The effect is slightly marred when he trips over some wires and just manages to save his Gibson.

The crowd, as expected, loves them. Joe's only heard them a few times, on the radio or at parties, and never live. He's not sure what he was expecting- maybe formation dancing or Jonas Brothers flips or sparkles or confetti. He doesn't know. But the show is- the show is- Wow. It's just a feeling in the air, a thrumming undercurrent, like a, Hey, dude, Jesus Christ, we're doing something fucking amazing over here. They're really, honestly, a great band, and a hell of a performance too. Joe's heard people who sound like shit live, but Bryn- she sounds even better live. And God does she know how to work a crowd. They function like five parts of the same thing, picking up on each other's cues, finishing sentences and notes and melodies without a second thought, and Joe would roll his eyes and think it took hours of rehearsal and a shit load of auto-tuned and marketed crap but - and this is the worst part - it's not. It's effortless and seamless and Joe is maybe even a little jealous.

Of course, all his thought processes grind to a halt when Bryn says, And we've got Joseph helping us out on this one, too! Joe blinks. Bryn beams. Then she comes over and tugs him out, in front of the crowd and the lights, and whispers, Non, Je Ne Regrette Rien, in his ear. It sends a little shiver through him before he realises that she's talking about the Edith Piaf song and expects him to sing with her, not... something else. Bryn, Joe whispers urgently, I can't. I can't sing. Bryn fixes him with a stare. Joseph. Don't pull that card. She sounds a little like his old French teacher at school, middle-aged but still naturally attractive, and strict and demanding. As Bryn shoves a piece of paper at him with the lyrics on it, he squirms a little because no, he is not getting turned on by a girl singing French next to him and sounding maybe a little like his old teacher and knowing obscure facts about singers- he's not.

He sings with her - how could he not? - and follows the directions written in Bryn's tall, loopy handwriting on the page. It nags him a little that he needs instructions to sing with her while Luke, Landon, Matthew, and Alex, don't. He tells himself that that's not a rational worry, since he doesn't even know her that well, but he still finds himself pushing to sing better for her. Their voices weave and tangle in French, a sort of whimsy folk feeling, not like Edith Piaf's singing at all, and Joe smiles as he watches her long, skinny fingers pluck out a melody on her guitar. When it's over, they don't get a roaring round of applause, there's just silent. A good kind of silence, a quiet, calm, contented one, and Joe smiles one last time before turning and walking off. He catches a quick smile from Bryn before the mood is broken, the rest of the band jumping back over with Pour Some Sugar On Me.

He stays for the rest of the show, just because. A few times some of the other bands or crew members try to initiate conversation, but he tries to deter them as politely as possible. The Raves really are something. Joe grins, and he can't help feeling ridiculously proud that his best friend - his best friend! - is a part of this. Hell, he is this. He imagines this is how Steven Spielberg's friends feel on a daily basis.

There's an after party afterwards, and Joe goes along just for a minute. He lets himself laugh so much it hurts and watches his friends do stupid things, before excusing himself and ducking out to head back to Luke's. Bryn, because she's Bryn, follows him out.

You're leaving? she asks, stumbling a little.

Yeah, Joe nods. I can't- he waves a hand towards the club, and Bryn nods like she understands.

Okay. Well. I- There's a moment of silence and Joe thinks she's about to say, I'm sorry for your loss, and they'll be back to square one, but she doesn't. Instead: I miss him too, she says.

Not as much as me, Joe thinks before he can stop himself. He winces and says, Yeah, because he can't think of anything else to say.

Okay. Bryn nods.

Okay, Joe repeats, and slides into the waiting taxi. He's just about to close the door when Bryn catches it and steps closer, ducking down to see him.

Joseph, Bryn blurts. I'll see you around.

Yeah. He gives her a smile because he can't think of any words to fill the space, nods, and rides back to Luke's apartment in silence. He cleans up the mess he made and texts his manager, who calls back immediately, singing with delight. He fiddles around on Tumblr for a bit- HitRECord's still a bit much. He shines his shoes. Sometime between an episode of Mad Men and Luke stumbling in with a girl, he books a ticket to LA. Then, after Batman Begins, a ticket back to New York City on the day The Raves' tour will finish. He doesn't let him think about it too much, and goes to bed over the sounds of sex coming from the next room.