Prompt fic - Lies I've Told
Follows " Let It Go." Written for this prompt at 
fic_promptly. (Yes, I know the first part was in 1st/present and this is in 3rd/past... that's just how I roll.)
Lies I've Told
Ty paced the length of his hotel room, stopping to read the fire escape plan on the back of the door (always good to know) again. When he finished, he spun and walked back to the window at the opposite end. He pulled back the curtain but nothing had changed. Portland was just as rainy as Seattle which was pretty rainy. He expected nothing less in the dreary Pacific Northwest.
The TV murmured softly in the background--mostly white noise until the anchor introduced their entertainment segment.
"I'm sitting here with Tyson Quinn, lead singer of Leo's Last Day, to talk about their newest album, Lies They've Told coming out later this year," the reporter said, her voice silky. "Welcome, Tyson."
"Hey, Marcy, glad to be here."
Ty cringed at the sound of his voice through the crappy television speakers. He sounded nasally. He made an about face and marched back to the door ignoring the smiling figures on the TV.
"This is your fourth album in as many years," she continued. "You've been very busy."
The Ty on the TV grinned. "Very busy."
The reporter laughed and leaned over, her fingers running down his leg. "I'm sure your fans appreciate that. How has the fast pace been affecting you? It must be tough to be in the studio and on tour so much."
"Well, you know, we've been doing this since we were seventeen. It's all just part of the business. We're still going strong, and I can't imagine doing anything else."
Ty grabbed the remote, turning off the TV. He resisted the urge to throw it through the screen. It was lies. All lies. He pulled at his hair. They weren't still going strong. At least Ty wasn't At twenty-one, he was already burnt out. He didn't want to do these interviews. Especially with the reporters hitting on him the entire time. She was nearly thirty--so not his type. And he was tired of the constant touring and time in the studio. The parties and release events. Like tomorrow.
He flicked back the curtain again. Still raining. Somewhere below him was a store prepping for an onslaught of dedicated fans waiting to get photos of their favorite band being cooler than ice. Ty felt sick. Worse than before a concert. That he could handle. It all went away once he was on stage--the music filling his head and the blinding lights heating his skin. He loved it. Lived for it.
Small spaces. Lots of people pawing at him and demanding his attention. Not so much. He swallowed back bile at the thought then flopped back on the bed.
"I can do this," he muttered to himself. "I can do this."
He closed his eyes. I have to do this. I have no other choice--the guys are depending on me. There were never any choices for Ty, unfortunately.
This entry was originally posted at https://jennickels.dreamwidth.org/385832.html.
fic_promptly. (Yes, I know the first part was in 1st/present and this is in 3rd/past... that's just how I roll.)
Lies I've Told
Ty paced the length of his hotel room, stopping to read the fire escape plan on the back of the door (always good to know) again. When he finished, he spun and walked back to the window at the opposite end. He pulled back the curtain but nothing had changed. Portland was just as rainy as Seattle which was pretty rainy. He expected nothing less in the dreary Pacific Northwest.
The TV murmured softly in the background--mostly white noise until the anchor introduced their entertainment segment.
"I'm sitting here with Tyson Quinn, lead singer of Leo's Last Day, to talk about their newest album, Lies They've Told coming out later this year," the reporter said, her voice silky. "Welcome, Tyson."
"Hey, Marcy, glad to be here."
Ty cringed at the sound of his voice through the crappy television speakers. He sounded nasally. He made an about face and marched back to the door ignoring the smiling figures on the TV.
"This is your fourth album in as many years," she continued. "You've been very busy."
The Ty on the TV grinned. "Very busy."
The reporter laughed and leaned over, her fingers running down his leg. "I'm sure your fans appreciate that. How has the fast pace been affecting you? It must be tough to be in the studio and on tour so much."
"Well, you know, we've been doing this since we were seventeen. It's all just part of the business. We're still going strong, and I can't imagine doing anything else."
Ty grabbed the remote, turning off the TV. He resisted the urge to throw it through the screen. It was lies. All lies. He pulled at his hair. They weren't still going strong. At least Ty wasn't At twenty-one, he was already burnt out. He didn't want to do these interviews. Especially with the reporters hitting on him the entire time. She was nearly thirty--so not his type. And he was tired of the constant touring and time in the studio. The parties and release events. Like tomorrow.
He flicked back the curtain again. Still raining. Somewhere below him was a store prepping for an onslaught of dedicated fans waiting to get photos of their favorite band being cooler than ice. Ty felt sick. Worse than before a concert. That he could handle. It all went away once he was on stage--the music filling his head and the blinding lights heating his skin. He loved it. Lived for it.
Small spaces. Lots of people pawing at him and demanding his attention. Not so much. He swallowed back bile at the thought then flopped back on the bed.
"I can do this," he muttered to himself. "I can do this."
He closed his eyes. I have to do this. I have no other choice--the guys are depending on me. There were never any choices for Ty, unfortunately.
This entry was originally posted at https://jennickels.dreamwidth.org/385832.html.