Annalisa's Fic
For a friend,
“I can’t believe I got into one of Jon’s concerts for free,” Annalisa murmurs to herself. She blows a lock of auburn hair from her eyes, holding onto her cup of coffee with shaking hands. He’s looking right at me, she thinks.
She’s been to see Jon Walker in concert a few times before, spoken to him even - his voice directed at her is something that will remain in her memory for the rest of her life - but she would never have been pretentious enough to expect him to actually recognize her. He must have seen a thousand or more faces that looked more or less like hers staring up at him through all the shows he’d played since she’d last heard him, the only time she’d had the nerve to stay after and talk for a moment or two while he packed up. However, sure enough, when she’d walked into the door of the warm coffee shop and had attempted to buy her tickets from the door man, Jon, who had been walking toward the stage, had stopped in his tracks.
A look of confusion had passed over his features before a grin took its place, his brown eyes lighting up. Annalisa was sure that, in that moment, her heart had stopped beating; Jon Walker, the Jon Walker, had directed his beautiful smile quite unmistakably at her. His eyes lingered for a moment, studying her face - she was embarrassed by the red surely staining her cheeks due to the feel of his gaze, an emotion that served only to deepen her flush - before they flitted away, meeting those of the large doorman’s.
“She gets in free,” he had instructed, his soft, lazy voice sounding like music already. Annalisa had gasped and looked quickly at him, receiving a wink and a conspiratorial smile in return. She had blushed again and pulled her jacket tighter around herself, allowing a curtain of deep red-brown hair to hide the disbelieving smile that stretched across her face as she heard Jon’s gentle laugh.
Now Annalisa stands before Jon, watching with wide eyes as he murmurs soft words into the microphone. She can barely stand, she’s so dizzy; not ten feet from her, Jon Walker is singing. From the looks of it, though she’s sure she’s flattering herself, he’s singing to her.
She doesn’t know the words to this song, but it’s okay; it’s about the quality of the music. Jon’s thin fingers stretch across the fretboard of his coffee-colored guitar to create beautiful, mystifying chords. His voice is the most natural thing in the world, and Annalisa briefly wishes she could hear him sing a lullaby, but then she realizes that she’d much rather have this.
As the set finishes up, the crowd splits into two - one half meanders to the door, the other, a mix of teenage girls and parent-aged adults, swarm toward Jon. Annalisa, unsure of what to do, steps slowly toward the door, but suddenly, a voice stops her in her tracks.
“Wait!”
There’s no way, she thinks. There’s just no way…
“Wait, don’t leave! Girl with the reddish hair, I can’t remember your name, but I want to talk to you! Do you have a few minutes?"
There’s just no way it’s her, Annalisa know, but she turns around and faces Jon, and oh God. He’s looking right at her, a little bit of - is that uncertainty? - in his eyes. Her breath is gone in an instant, she feels dizzy, her… her heart is hammering. Is this real?
Suddenly, she hears herself answering without her mind’s consent, “Er, y-yeah. I’ll just sit.” She gets a smile in return, though, so she assumes that was the answer he wanted. She plops down in the nearest
When the crowd has dispersed, the last Panic! fan tripping out the door in a moon-eyed daze, Jon approaches. Annalisa, messing with her phone, doesn’t even notice his presence until her coffee cup is slammed down in front of her. She jumps, looking up to meet Jon’s face. His expression is irritated, but it’s clear that he’s trying very hard to hide a smile. “Ugh,” he scolds. “You let it get cold. Shoulda’ warned me before I took a sip!”
Thanks to some higher power, surely, Annalisa manages not to fuck up her words, instead delivering a teasing comeback. “I don’t know, maybe if you didn’t go around drinking other peoples’ coffee you wouldn’t run into that problem.”
Jon’s composure breaks, and a wide grin spreads across his face, a soft laugh filling the room. Annalisa feels her heart flutter at the noise. “Fair enough, fair enough. Hey, come out back with me for a minute, alright?”
And yeah, maybe from a guy she’d just met, this would sound a little odd - but this was Jon Walker. He was a good man, and, to be honest, Annalisa thinks she sees something akin to fear in his eyes. Like maybe he isn’t so sure of himself. And so, she follows, her eyes on his black Chucks, the dirty laces dragging across the coffee shop floor all the way to the back exit.
The little alley isn’t dirty, but it isn’t clean, either. It’s perfect, however, for what Jon’s doing - rolling a joint. Annalisa feels bad, but she can’t help but watch intently as he brings the smoke to his lips, lights it, and takes a long drag. An easy smile spreads across his face, and he exhales with a laugh through his nose. The girl’s focus is still on the man’s lips, but she forces herself to tear her eyes away and meet his.
“Do you want a hit?” he asks, extending the joint to her. She doesn’t know what to do - this is Jon, would he be mad if she declined? - but quickly decides against it, waving the joint away with wide eyes. She isn’t into that sort of stuff. Maybe later, but now, she’s still in school, and she needs all of her wits for that. Jon nodded understandingly. “The pretty ones are never into it, are they?” she thinks she hears him mutter as he inhales more of the herb, and another blush creeps across her cheeks. He sees, and a smirk tugs at the corner of his distracting lips.
“It’s true,” he says, unabashed. “You’re really pretty.” Annalisa smiles. She had been beginning to suspect that Jon thinks as much, to be honest, but it was still the most amazing thing in the world to hear. “Does this pretty girl have a name?” Jon presses.
“An-annalisa,” she stammers, but holds his gaze. His smirk grows wider.
“Well, Anannalisa,” he says, and she grins. “I really hope you enjoyed the show.”
“Oh, I did! It was amazing, as always. You’re so - just, thank you for letting me in for free! But you really didn’t have to, I was more than prepared to pay-“
“Hush,” he insists. “I wanted you to come in for free, alright. I have my reasons.”
They stand in silence for several minutes, Jon smoking and Annalisa stealing quick glances, blushing whenever she is caught. Finally, she shifts. “Jon, why did you bring me out here?”
A strange expression crosses Jon’s features, and he crushes the butt of the blunt beneath the sole of his shoe. “To be honest, Annalisa, I… couldn’t tell you. I just. I. This is,” he stuttered, and Annalisa finds herself grinning. Jon Walker is nervous. Jon is nervous because of her. “I just remember talking to. To you, you know, at a concert a while back. It was only for a moment or two, but, it’s just that you struck me as very smart. Very sweet. Very musically inclined.” He turns to face her fully. “I thought that it would be nice to get a chance to talk to you again. The people who come to see me after the shows are usually just old Panic! fans that want to talk to me so they can ask if ‘Ryden ever existed’ or to ask if I still talk to Ryan or if The Young Veins will ever come back from hiatus.” Annalisa snorts; that sounds about right. “You, though; you came to talk to me because you wanted to hear about me. Not about me, even. You only wanted to talk about my music.”
“That’s what’s important, right?” she asked.
He nods. “Exactly. And you wouldn’t believe how rare that is.” She shrugs like it’s no big deal, because really, it shouldn’t be.
Suddenly, her pocket vibrates. A text from her mother, great. “I’ve got to get going soon, Jon, I’m really sorry,” she says, and he nods, eyes on the sky, expression far away, as if he’s contemplating something big. She begins to move toward the door again, but he stops her, placing a hand on her shoulder.
“No, I. Annalisa, just, uh, wait.” She nods. He swallows hard and looks straight into her eyes. “I. I’m really sorry in advance, I just have to. I. Just don’t freak out, okay?”, he begs, and before she has time to ask what the hell that’s supposed to mean, she feel’s Jon’s lips pressed against hers.
The world must have ended, because Annalisa has only ever known this sort of perfect moment in her dreams.
And, alright, admittedly, she never envisioned a ‘perfect moment’ as having her back rubbed roughly against cold bricks as she stumbles backwards, but she can’t say she minds all that much. And maybe her fantasies about Jon Walker included a little more tongue than this, but this little chaste kiss, the scent of pot and sweat heavy on Jon, close-mouthed but sincere, is more perfect than anything she could dream up.
Forever and a day later, yet all too soon, it’s over, and Jon’s backing away, and they’re both shaking. Annalisa knows that her trembles are from fear, but Jon looks like he’s having something of a minor freak-out himself. “Are you… alright?” she asks softly.
“I, it’s just that I don’t usually kiss, you know,” he mumbles, “just that I don’t usually have any sort of feelings toward, younger, you know, such younger girls.”
She’s tempted to interject, ‘not that much younger’, but she knows it’s not true. There’s a wide age gap here. Instead she just clears her throat. He shuffles in place, drawing a contorted smiley face in the dirt of the alley way with the tip of his shoe. Suddenly, another text appears from Annalisa’s mom. Sighing, she checks it, and it reads in capital letters, WHERE ARE YOU?? Annalisa sighs and says, “I… Jon, I’ve really got to go. I’m sorry.” He nods. Her eyes linger on him, trying to take him in. She’s not sure if she’ll see him again. She’s certainly not sure if she’ll get this again. She wants to remember.
“I’m probably going to stay here and smoke another,” he tells her, not looking at her, and she nods even though he can’t see.
“Will you come see me again?” he asks.
“I don’t know,” she answers honestly. “Will this be what happens again?”
He sighs. “I don’t know.”
So here they are.
Annalisa watches him just another moment, and she turns to go, but suddenly, she feels herself being flipped around, this time thrown against that wall roughly, Jon’s body pressed against her, and she can’t bring herself to struggle very hard. “I’m playing here again in not too long, you know,” he whispers, so close that the breath that hits her ear sends a shudder coursing through her. “You should come see me.”
“I’ll see if I’ve got time in my schedule,” she tries to say aloofly, but it sounds more like a promise.
“Well,” Jon sighs, “until then.” And the kiss he presses to her lips, fiercer, more desperate, but more assured - that feels like a promise, too. And-
Oh.
There’s the tongue.
“I can’t believe I got into one of Jon’s concerts for free,” Annalisa murmurs to herself. She blows a lock of auburn hair from her eyes, holding onto her cup of coffee with shaking hands. He’s looking right at me, she thinks.
She’s been to see Jon Walker in concert a few times before, spoken to him even - his voice directed at her is something that will remain in her memory for the rest of her life - but she would never have been pretentious enough to expect him to actually recognize her. He must have seen a thousand or more faces that looked more or less like hers staring up at him through all the shows he’d played since she’d last heard him, the only time she’d had the nerve to stay after and talk for a moment or two while he packed up. However, sure enough, when she’d walked into the door of the warm coffee shop and had attempted to buy her tickets from the door man, Jon, who had been walking toward the stage, had stopped in his tracks.
A look of confusion had passed over his features before a grin took its place, his brown eyes lighting up. Annalisa was sure that, in that moment, her heart had stopped beating; Jon Walker, the Jon Walker, had directed his beautiful smile quite unmistakably at her. His eyes lingered for a moment, studying her face - she was embarrassed by the red surely staining her cheeks due to the feel of his gaze, an emotion that served only to deepen her flush - before they flitted away, meeting those of the large doorman’s.
“She gets in free,” he had instructed, his soft, lazy voice sounding like music already. Annalisa had gasped and looked quickly at him, receiving a wink and a conspiratorial smile in return. She had blushed again and pulled her jacket tighter around herself, allowing a curtain of deep red-brown hair to hide the disbelieving smile that stretched across her face as she heard Jon’s gentle laugh.
Now Annalisa stands before Jon, watching with wide eyes as he murmurs soft words into the microphone. She can barely stand, she’s so dizzy; not ten feet from her, Jon Walker is singing. From the looks of it, though she’s sure she’s flattering herself, he’s singing to her.
She doesn’t know the words to this song, but it’s okay; it’s about the quality of the music. Jon’s thin fingers stretch across the fretboard of his coffee-colored guitar to create beautiful, mystifying chords. His voice is the most natural thing in the world, and Annalisa briefly wishes she could hear him sing a lullaby, but then she realizes that she’d much rather have this.
As the set finishes up, the crowd splits into two - one half meanders to the door, the other, a mix of teenage girls and parent-aged adults, swarm toward Jon. Annalisa, unsure of what to do, steps slowly toward the door, but suddenly, a voice stops her in her tracks.
“Wait!”
There’s no way, she thinks. There’s just no way…
“Wait, don’t leave! Girl with the reddish hair, I can’t remember your name, but I want to talk to you! Do you have a few minutes?"
There’s just no way it’s her, Annalisa know, but she turns around and faces Jon, and oh God. He’s looking right at her, a little bit of - is that uncertainty? - in his eyes. Her breath is gone in an instant, she feels dizzy, her… her heart is hammering. Is this real?
Suddenly, she hears herself answering without her mind’s consent, “Er, y-yeah. I’ll just sit.” She gets a smile in return, though, so she assumes that was the answer he wanted. She plops down in the nearest
When the crowd has dispersed, the last Panic! fan tripping out the door in a moon-eyed daze, Jon approaches. Annalisa, messing with her phone, doesn’t even notice his presence until her coffee cup is slammed down in front of her. She jumps, looking up to meet Jon’s face. His expression is irritated, but it’s clear that he’s trying very hard to hide a smile. “Ugh,” he scolds. “You let it get cold. Shoulda’ warned me before I took a sip!”
Thanks to some higher power, surely, Annalisa manages not to fuck up her words, instead delivering a teasing comeback. “I don’t know, maybe if you didn’t go around drinking other peoples’ coffee you wouldn’t run into that problem.”
Jon’s composure breaks, and a wide grin spreads across his face, a soft laugh filling the room. Annalisa feels her heart flutter at the noise. “Fair enough, fair enough. Hey, come out back with me for a minute, alright?”
And yeah, maybe from a guy she’d just met, this would sound a little odd - but this was Jon Walker. He was a good man, and, to be honest, Annalisa thinks she sees something akin to fear in his eyes. Like maybe he isn’t so sure of himself. And so, she follows, her eyes on his black Chucks, the dirty laces dragging across the coffee shop floor all the way to the back exit.
The little alley isn’t dirty, but it isn’t clean, either. It’s perfect, however, for what Jon’s doing - rolling a joint. Annalisa feels bad, but she can’t help but watch intently as he brings the smoke to his lips, lights it, and takes a long drag. An easy smile spreads across his face, and he exhales with a laugh through his nose. The girl’s focus is still on the man’s lips, but she forces herself to tear her eyes away and meet his.
“Do you want a hit?” he asks, extending the joint to her. She doesn’t know what to do - this is Jon, would he be mad if she declined? - but quickly decides against it, waving the joint away with wide eyes. She isn’t into that sort of stuff. Maybe later, but now, she’s still in school, and she needs all of her wits for that. Jon nodded understandingly. “The pretty ones are never into it, are they?” she thinks she hears him mutter as he inhales more of the herb, and another blush creeps across her cheeks. He sees, and a smirk tugs at the corner of his distracting lips.
“It’s true,” he says, unabashed. “You’re really pretty.” Annalisa smiles. She had been beginning to suspect that Jon thinks as much, to be honest, but it was still the most amazing thing in the world to hear. “Does this pretty girl have a name?” Jon presses.
“An-annalisa,” she stammers, but holds his gaze. His smirk grows wider.
“Well, Anannalisa,” he says, and she grins. “I really hope you enjoyed the show.”
“Oh, I did! It was amazing, as always. You’re so - just, thank you for letting me in for free! But you really didn’t have to, I was more than prepared to pay-“
“Hush,” he insists. “I wanted you to come in for free, alright. I have my reasons.”
They stand in silence for several minutes, Jon smoking and Annalisa stealing quick glances, blushing whenever she is caught. Finally, she shifts. “Jon, why did you bring me out here?”
A strange expression crosses Jon’s features, and he crushes the butt of the blunt beneath the sole of his shoe. “To be honest, Annalisa, I… couldn’t tell you. I just. I. This is,” he stuttered, and Annalisa finds herself grinning. Jon Walker is nervous. Jon is nervous because of her. “I just remember talking to. To you, you know, at a concert a while back. It was only for a moment or two, but, it’s just that you struck me as very smart. Very sweet. Very musically inclined.” He turns to face her fully. “I thought that it would be nice to get a chance to talk to you again. The people who come to see me after the shows are usually just old Panic! fans that want to talk to me so they can ask if ‘Ryden ever existed’ or to ask if I still talk to Ryan or if The Young Veins will ever come back from hiatus.” Annalisa snorts; that sounds about right. “You, though; you came to talk to me because you wanted to hear about me. Not about me, even. You only wanted to talk about my music.”
“That’s what’s important, right?” she asked.
He nods. “Exactly. And you wouldn’t believe how rare that is.” She shrugs like it’s no big deal, because really, it shouldn’t be.
Suddenly, her pocket vibrates. A text from her mother, great. “I’ve got to get going soon, Jon, I’m really sorry,” she says, and he nods, eyes on the sky, expression far away, as if he’s contemplating something big. She begins to move toward the door again, but he stops her, placing a hand on her shoulder.
“No, I. Annalisa, just, uh, wait.” She nods. He swallows hard and looks straight into her eyes. “I. I’m really sorry in advance, I just have to. I. Just don’t freak out, okay?”, he begs, and before she has time to ask what the hell that’s supposed to mean, she feel’s Jon’s lips pressed against hers.
The world must have ended, because Annalisa has only ever known this sort of perfect moment in her dreams.
And, alright, admittedly, she never envisioned a ‘perfect moment’ as having her back rubbed roughly against cold bricks as she stumbles backwards, but she can’t say she minds all that much. And maybe her fantasies about Jon Walker included a little more tongue than this, but this little chaste kiss, the scent of pot and sweat heavy on Jon, close-mouthed but sincere, is more perfect than anything she could dream up.
Forever and a day later, yet all too soon, it’s over, and Jon’s backing away, and they’re both shaking. Annalisa knows that her trembles are from fear, but Jon looks like he’s having something of a minor freak-out himself. “Are you… alright?” she asks softly.
“I, it’s just that I don’t usually kiss, you know,” he mumbles, “just that I don’t usually have any sort of feelings toward, younger, you know, such younger girls.”
She’s tempted to interject, ‘not that much younger’, but she knows it’s not true. There’s a wide age gap here. Instead she just clears her throat. He shuffles in place, drawing a contorted smiley face in the dirt of the alley way with the tip of his shoe. Suddenly, another text appears from Annalisa’s mom. Sighing, she checks it, and it reads in capital letters, WHERE ARE YOU?? Annalisa sighs and says, “I… Jon, I’ve really got to go. I’m sorry.” He nods. Her eyes linger on him, trying to take him in. She’s not sure if she’ll see him again. She’s certainly not sure if she’ll get this again. She wants to remember.
“I’m probably going to stay here and smoke another,” he tells her, not looking at her, and she nods even though he can’t see.
“Will you come see me again?” he asks.
“I don’t know,” she answers honestly. “Will this be what happens again?”
He sighs. “I don’t know.”
So here they are.
Annalisa watches him just another moment, and she turns to go, but suddenly, she feels herself being flipped around, this time thrown against that wall roughly, Jon’s body pressed against her, and she can’t bring herself to struggle very hard. “I’m playing here again in not too long, you know,” he whispers, so close that the breath that hits her ear sends a shudder coursing through her. “You should come see me.”
“I’ll see if I’ve got time in my schedule,” she tries to say aloofly, but it sounds more like a promise.
“Well,” Jon sighs, “until then.” And the kiss he presses to her lips, fiercer, more desperate, but more assured - that feels like a promise, too. And-
Oh.
There’s the tongue.