Time After Time

Fraser Taylor was like a vice prime minister of Young Guns if Gustav was the prime minister. Whenever they need to do something compulsory for the band, like dealing with contract or any kind of business stuff, they were the first two who get in touch with the company. That was why that morning, he went to Gustav’s place so they could discuss some of the royalty left from their last album and tour before he left with John to their parents’ house for Christmas. It was seven in the morning and Fraser had told Gustav that if he was too early, they could discuss the matter later, but Gustav refused. He said that they needed to do that as soon as possible and Fraser agreed.

They were both sat on the living room of Gustav’s flat, with two mugs of coffee and a pile of papers between them while they read the contract and counted the money they would get and how much they should pay for tax. Fraser was counting that they had only half of the documents left to read and respond when he heard footsteps on the stair.

Ah. Yes. Rose.

He saw her a couple of seconds later, in the grey, oversized pyjama that she used too wear back in Australia. Fraser thought that the pyjama must be her favourite pyjama, because she brought it all the way here. He couldn’t help but think how domestic she looks; messy hair, messy pyjama, and small, funny looking socks.

“Oh,” she smiled when she looked at Fraser. “I didn’t know we have a guest. Good morning, Fraser.”

“’Morning,” he nodded once and Rose proceeded to the kitchen, making herself a cup of coffee. Gustav was still counting with one hand on the paper, the other on his phone with calculator on and Fraser couldn’t help but think that they were sleeping together, less than an hour ago before he knocked on the door and wake Gustav up. It was a good change, Fraser thought. The last time he was here, before everything happened, before they left for another tour, Gustav was all about his cat. It was okay, he knew, but sometimes he felt a little sad for Gustav who mostly thinks about how to be the best in whatever he was doing and that was mainly his job. He needs to come home to someone who takes care of him, not a cat.

“Done,” Gustav’s voice made Fraser blink and he gave him another paper. “What?” the half-Norwegian man eyed Fraser, who chuckled when he stared at him.

“I just think that it’s nice to see you have partner again,” he smirked.

Gustav smiled, “It feels nice too, trust me.”

“I thought she was a morning person. She always wake up first when we’re touring around New South Wales,” Fraser pointed out.

Gustav yawned, “’Lent her my Kindle. She probably tried to read everything by Stephen King there last night.”

Fraser nodded, before Rose walked to them and reported, “I’m going back upstairs, okay? I think I can finish three more chapters before I cook breakfast.” Gustav nodded and she leaned down a little to peck him on the cheek while he tilted his head a little so she could do it easily. Rose then disappeared upstairs, with Sampson meows indicating that the cat was upstairs and it probably waited for Rose to come back to bed with him. Fraser observed that Gustav was slightly flushed, but he already knew that this best friend of his could get a little shy when it comes to romantic relationship.

As Fraser looked at animal-printed sweater Gustav wore in front of him, he laughed when he realised that Rose was wearing a pair of similar, hideous-looking socks. His laugh must be intensified because even Gustav couldn’t ignore it much longer.

“What’s so funny?” his blue-eyed friend pouted, seemed slightly irritated.

“Do you realise that beside your usual cool, black clothes, sometimes you wear something that is totally out of your closet like that animal-print sweater you’re wearing now- or, or that ugly grey sweaters you own?” Fraser smirked, felt like he just realised a small secret of the world.

Gustav chuckled, “Yeah, I realised that. Why?”

“Do you realise too that Rose was wearing same thing, only she wore stupid-looking socks instead of sweaters?” Fraser was laughing by this point.

Gustav blinked, “Well…yeah. She likes them. She has a lot of them but don’t wear it that much because it was never really cold on her place…they look funny, I think. She has the whole series of tuna and canned tuna socks, all in similar patterns and colours.”

Fraser tittered.

“You know what, even though she has brilliant taste in clothing and could as well be everyone in Young Guns’ mother, she has thing for hideous looking socks. And you, probably the father, who always look cool except that times when you somehow wear stupid looking sweaters.” He was still laughing and he didn’t exactly know why.

Gustav just scoffed and smiled. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Fraser finally stopped laughing. “You know what I think? I think you guys are soul mates.”

And John Taylor’s brother swore he saw Gustav blushed rather furiously.


Later that evening, Gustav came to Rose who was feeding Sampson when he asked out of the blue.

“Rose, do you think my animal-print sweaters are ugly?”

She raised her eyebrows, “They’re kind of weird, to be frank… why?”

He laughed, “Nothing. I just had Fraser pointed it out this morning- said you have weird taste in socks like I have weird taste in sweaters.”

Rose walked to the kitchen to throw away the empty cat food can and he followed her. “Well…I don’t know about you, but do you ever look at something so…weird and considerably hideous and you go thinking, ‘Oh God, that’s the worst clothing I’ve ever seen’ but then you go, ‘I must own them’?”

And Gustav never laughed that fast in his life because he thought exactly the same thing with his ugly sweaters. He hugged her from behind and Rose chuckled.

“Fraser said that we must be soul mates,” he whispered to her ear before kissed it.

Rose hummed happily, “Well, I’m glad that we are, then- Michael never understood my obsession with tuna socks.”

Gustav chuckled and landed kisses on her face. For the first time in long time, since they officially dated, he won. He could finally won over Mr Michael ‘Perfect’ Jones-Andretti because of little things like this.