(no subject)
Title: I'm a Loner Dottie, a Rebel
Author: E*A
Pairing: m/m
Fandom: Saves the Day/Get Up Kids
Rating: PG-13
Summary: One night at the Re-Play doesn't mean the rest of their lives.
Disclaimer: I do not know or own TGUK or STD. If I did, TGUK would still be together making more amazing songs like "I'm a Loner Dottie, a Rebel"
Notes: Thanks for 10 great years, Get Up Kids! You made the moon shine for everyone!
It was the middle of the day on Sunday. Mass Street was busy as hell; it always was on Sundays since the meters weren’t turned on. We had played a show at the Re-Play the night before. Nice place. We’ve been playing there since ’97 or something like that.
We’ve done shows at The Bottleneck and the defunct Pink House, but nothing compares to the Re-Play. Something great always happens there. It happened last night. It made me declare last night the night of my life.
We were getting ready to play and I was getting nervous like I always do before we play at the Re-Play. It was nice outside so we played on the patio to a packed house. We had Kelpie open for us and they really got the crowd going. Bill from Ultimate Fakebook even showed up for a little support. It was so nice to be back home. Lawrence is my only love.
Well, Lawrence is the only town I love. I mean, the only other town I know like Lawrence is Eudora…and hell, there is nothing in Eudora except our recording studio and my house. I can’t say Lawrence is my only love because it’s not. I love something, or rather, someone else. He was at the show.
Chris Conley. What a perfect name. What a perfect face, person, voice, everything. God, I’m obsessing or something like a little girl or something…I’m sure Ryan would make some joke about me being emo or something. I’m sure half the world would make the same joke; actually, they probably wouldn’t be joking.
Anyway, back to Chris and my night. My perfect night that makes up for all those last chances I missed, all those break-ups, and all those nights I couldn’t sleep. I was on stage trying to put on a good show for the Re-Play when I saw the most perfect piercing blue eyes I have ever seen.
Chris Conley. I didn’t even need to think twice. We had met before, after all, Saves the Day was signed to Vagrant just like us. I felt so privileged to be talking to him when we met. I don’t know why, I just did. We never really talked and he lived on the East Coast and I lived in Kansas and we had opposite touring schedules and…and…all hope was lost even from the start.
But, God, those damn blue eyes just made me shake and they made me feel like he could see through me, which made me nervous. I wanted to get off stage to either talk to him or run away. I stuck it out through the set and tried to put on a great show and hit every note just to impress him. I was acting like one of those dumb 7th grade boys.
When the show ended, he clapped and hollered. I felt so fantastic: Chris liked the show. We stepped off stage and packed our stuff into the van after signing a few autographs. Ryan and I were finishing up loading stuff in the van when I felt a hand on my shoulder.
“Hey,” he said. I died. “Your show was fantastic!” I died again.
I think I sort of starred at him a little, astonished and mesmerized by those damn blue eyes. I don’t really remember much, I was dead. “Umm, thanks, thanks a lot.” I shook his hand.
“You don’t remember me, do you?” He smiled sort of crookedly and looked perfect. He looked absolutely perfect.
“No, no, I do. You’re Chris Conley, Saves the Day. I remember you quite well.” I felt like a moron. I actually said that. I can’t believe myself sometimes. I can’t trust this mouth of mine.
Chris laughed a bit and sort of looked at his shoes. He looked back up at me and said those unforgettable words: “Want to go get a drink?”
“Yes.” I said quickly. I hate myself sometimes. He laughed again and I smiled nervously. “Let’s go to the Bottleneck, it’s too busy in there.”
“Lead the way.” I put the last amp in the van and we started the short walk through the muggy summer air.
The Bottleneck was pretty much cleared out. “Weird,” I said as I noticed how few people there were. Weird, but lucky.
“They were probably all over at your show.” He smiled at me and I smiled back. We took two barstools and ordered two Bud Lights. He ordered first and I ordered the same thing and felt like a moron again.
“I really like your new album,” I said, trying to break the awkward silence that had fallen over us.
He made a face. “Thanks.”
“What’s the face for?”
“It wasn’t one of our best albums.”
“I thought it was great. The lyrics were, well, really heartfelt.”
He looked up at me shyly. “I love the lyrics on the album. They’re the only good part of it all.”
“How’d you write them? Maybe I can learn a lesson or two.”
“First of all, your lyrics are amazing and you need to learn nothing.” He smiled and set his hand on my back. “Secondly, I wrote them about something I, well, was really interested in.”
“What?” I hoped he wouldn’t say a girlfriend.
“Oh, you know, love interest.”
“Girlfriend?”
“Hardly,” he paused. “I’m, well, gay.” He picked his beer up and pressed it to his lips.
I nodded. “Same here.”
“I know,” he set the bottle down and smiled at me.
I felt a weird panic, for some odd reason, race through my body. I wondered if I was wearing a billboard or something. “How?”
“Well, I just kind of got that vibe when we started talking.” I was wearing a billboard. I knew it. “Plus, when I was talking to Ryan earlier and he sort of told me.”
Ryan is going to die. “How much did he tell you?” I am definitely going to kill Ryan.
“Oh, you know.”
“No. Tell me so I’ll have even more of a reason to kill that kid.”
He laughed and pulled out his wallet, laid down a ten. “Let’s walk.”
Oh, I am going to gut Ryan next time I see him. I am going to gut him and hang him on my wall. I got up from my stool and walked out the door with Chris. “Thanks for paying.”
“No problem.”
“Anyway, what else did Ryan tell you?”
We were walking in the little walkway between two buildings towards Mass Street when he stopped walking. His lips slowly made their way to mine and I died. I died fourteen times over and then three more times after that and then we started walking again. That’s as much as I remember because I was dead the rest of the night; I was in heaven the rest of the night.
When I finally came to the next morning I was lying in my bed with the Sunday morning sun streaming down on my face. There was no one lying next to me and there was no one in my tiny house. I was all alone.
A cassette tape was left on my nightstand with the words, “I’m a Loner Dottie, a Rebel” written in blue sharpie. I picked up the tape and walked over to my stereo, popping the tape.
After a few seconds of his talking to someone in his band, I heard my song. The song I had written years ago and sang last night for the first time in months. It was my song and his voice.
Come tomorrow.
I'll be on my way back home.
In the morning,
call from a roadside telephone.
One night,
doesn't mean the rest of my life.
If I go it's not impossible,
but possible is probably wrong.
So, let go because I'm afraid to try.
I'll keep my hands by my side.
I won't come back.
I hope someday you'll understand.
I want to try and make it right,
but I don't know if I can.
Last night,
everything was right and the rain was gone.
One summer's night's the only time we know.
Shut your eyes,
when you wake up I'll be gone.
I don’t care if he left. I wish he wouldn’t have left, but he did and it doesn’t bother me too much. I have that night, the best night of my life, and this tape of my song and his voice which sounded so much better than it did when it was just my song and voice. It was meant to be, even if no one would ever hear that song except me.
Comment, it's only polite.
Author: E*A
Pairing: m/m
Fandom: Saves the Day/Get Up Kids
Rating: PG-13
Summary: One night at the Re-Play doesn't mean the rest of their lives.
Disclaimer: I do not know or own TGUK or STD. If I did, TGUK would still be together making more amazing songs like "I'm a Loner Dottie, a Rebel"
Notes: Thanks for 10 great years, Get Up Kids! You made the moon shine for everyone!
It was the middle of the day on Sunday. Mass Street was busy as hell; it always was on Sundays since the meters weren’t turned on. We had played a show at the Re-Play the night before. Nice place. We’ve been playing there since ’97 or something like that.
We’ve done shows at The Bottleneck and the defunct Pink House, but nothing compares to the Re-Play. Something great always happens there. It happened last night. It made me declare last night the night of my life.
We were getting ready to play and I was getting nervous like I always do before we play at the Re-Play. It was nice outside so we played on the patio to a packed house. We had Kelpie open for us and they really got the crowd going. Bill from Ultimate Fakebook even showed up for a little support. It was so nice to be back home. Lawrence is my only love.
Well, Lawrence is the only town I love. I mean, the only other town I know like Lawrence is Eudora…and hell, there is nothing in Eudora except our recording studio and my house. I can’t say Lawrence is my only love because it’s not. I love something, or rather, someone else. He was at the show.
Chris Conley. What a perfect name. What a perfect face, person, voice, everything. God, I’m obsessing or something like a little girl or something…I’m sure Ryan would make some joke about me being emo or something. I’m sure half the world would make the same joke; actually, they probably wouldn’t be joking.
Anyway, back to Chris and my night. My perfect night that makes up for all those last chances I missed, all those break-ups, and all those nights I couldn’t sleep. I was on stage trying to put on a good show for the Re-Play when I saw the most perfect piercing blue eyes I have ever seen.
Chris Conley. I didn’t even need to think twice. We had met before, after all, Saves the Day was signed to Vagrant just like us. I felt so privileged to be talking to him when we met. I don’t know why, I just did. We never really talked and he lived on the East Coast and I lived in Kansas and we had opposite touring schedules and…and…all hope was lost even from the start.
But, God, those damn blue eyes just made me shake and they made me feel like he could see through me, which made me nervous. I wanted to get off stage to either talk to him or run away. I stuck it out through the set and tried to put on a great show and hit every note just to impress him. I was acting like one of those dumb 7th grade boys.
When the show ended, he clapped and hollered. I felt so fantastic: Chris liked the show. We stepped off stage and packed our stuff into the van after signing a few autographs. Ryan and I were finishing up loading stuff in the van when I felt a hand on my shoulder.
“Hey,” he said. I died. “Your show was fantastic!” I died again.
I think I sort of starred at him a little, astonished and mesmerized by those damn blue eyes. I don’t really remember much, I was dead. “Umm, thanks, thanks a lot.” I shook his hand.
“You don’t remember me, do you?” He smiled sort of crookedly and looked perfect. He looked absolutely perfect.
“No, no, I do. You’re Chris Conley, Saves the Day. I remember you quite well.” I felt like a moron. I actually said that. I can’t believe myself sometimes. I can’t trust this mouth of mine.
Chris laughed a bit and sort of looked at his shoes. He looked back up at me and said those unforgettable words: “Want to go get a drink?”
“Yes.” I said quickly. I hate myself sometimes. He laughed again and I smiled nervously. “Let’s go to the Bottleneck, it’s too busy in there.”
“Lead the way.” I put the last amp in the van and we started the short walk through the muggy summer air.
The Bottleneck was pretty much cleared out. “Weird,” I said as I noticed how few people there were. Weird, but lucky.
“They were probably all over at your show.” He smiled at me and I smiled back. We took two barstools and ordered two Bud Lights. He ordered first and I ordered the same thing and felt like a moron again.
“I really like your new album,” I said, trying to break the awkward silence that had fallen over us.
He made a face. “Thanks.”
“What’s the face for?”
“It wasn’t one of our best albums.”
“I thought it was great. The lyrics were, well, really heartfelt.”
He looked up at me shyly. “I love the lyrics on the album. They’re the only good part of it all.”
“How’d you write them? Maybe I can learn a lesson or two.”
“First of all, your lyrics are amazing and you need to learn nothing.” He smiled and set his hand on my back. “Secondly, I wrote them about something I, well, was really interested in.”
“What?” I hoped he wouldn’t say a girlfriend.
“Oh, you know, love interest.”
“Girlfriend?”
“Hardly,” he paused. “I’m, well, gay.” He picked his beer up and pressed it to his lips.
I nodded. “Same here.”
“I know,” he set the bottle down and smiled at me.
I felt a weird panic, for some odd reason, race through my body. I wondered if I was wearing a billboard or something. “How?”
“Well, I just kind of got that vibe when we started talking.” I was wearing a billboard. I knew it. “Plus, when I was talking to Ryan earlier and he sort of told me.”
Ryan is going to die. “How much did he tell you?” I am definitely going to kill Ryan.
“Oh, you know.”
“No. Tell me so I’ll have even more of a reason to kill that kid.”
He laughed and pulled out his wallet, laid down a ten. “Let’s walk.”
Oh, I am going to gut Ryan next time I see him. I am going to gut him and hang him on my wall. I got up from my stool and walked out the door with Chris. “Thanks for paying.”
“No problem.”
“Anyway, what else did Ryan tell you?”
We were walking in the little walkway between two buildings towards Mass Street when he stopped walking. His lips slowly made their way to mine and I died. I died fourteen times over and then three more times after that and then we started walking again. That’s as much as I remember because I was dead the rest of the night; I was in heaven the rest of the night.
When I finally came to the next morning I was lying in my bed with the Sunday morning sun streaming down on my face. There was no one lying next to me and there was no one in my tiny house. I was all alone.
A cassette tape was left on my nightstand with the words, “I’m a Loner Dottie, a Rebel” written in blue sharpie. I picked up the tape and walked over to my stereo, popping the tape.
After a few seconds of his talking to someone in his band, I heard my song. The song I had written years ago and sang last night for the first time in months. It was my song and his voice.
Come tomorrow.
I'll be on my way back home.
In the morning,
call from a roadside telephone.
One night,
doesn't mean the rest of my life.
If I go it's not impossible,
but possible is probably wrong.
So, let go because I'm afraid to try.
I'll keep my hands by my side.
I won't come back.
I hope someday you'll understand.
I want to try and make it right,
but I don't know if I can.
Last night,
everything was right and the rain was gone.
One summer's night's the only time we know.
Shut your eyes,
when you wake up I'll be gone.
I don’t care if he left. I wish he wouldn’t have left, but he did and it doesn’t bother me too much. I have that night, the best night of my life, and this tape of my song and his voice which sounded so much better than it did when it was just my song and voice. It was meant to be, even if no one would ever hear that song except me.
Comment, it's only polite.