- I sing it up once more!
Martin is already moving towards the recording room. His friend grabs his arm.
- Since when you became that maniac yourself? It wasn't enough of that self claimed band supervisor? And Dave's perfection mania? The song is good as it is. Why you won't accept it?
He just fixes his view on the ginger man for long silent moments. Then bend his head.
- It's not good enough yet. - With that he is already behind the mike stand. “I have to finish it before he arrives, though it seems as his Land Rover is parking front of the building...Maybe he gather his strength before he comes in. I don't really know how he can remain that calm. If I were him I would beat myself to bloody bits. Or maybe he finally managed to lock me out of his life for good. Excellent Curly-wurly, you are very good. With your stubbornness you finally achieved that the most important person in your miserable life look over you like you were air.” Standing inside he stare at the badly crumbled piece of paper. He's not in need of it; he simply needs to hold into something that still exists. With a sigh he waves outside, closing his eyes he try to sink into that inner reality, that seems much nicer as he adjust his shocked up emotions into sound.
Outside the studio Dave still sits in his car, his mobile on his ear from long minutes.
- Sure I know...I know...I don’t want to push it. But tell him that your boyfriend greets him - he laughs - Oh I thought that you already knew that...Well he is calling me his mommy's boyfriend...No, no I'm not your chick - giggles out loudly - Yeah, I know...You can't left that one out...With him? I'm not sure...Nothing, tensed. I don't think so. I don't know - he sighs heavily - Maybe now it just can't be. Or I don't want it - picking the material on the steering wheel frustrated - I tried so many times. And every time I convince myself that this is it, it’s finally be okay there was like a glass wall before me and he wouldn't let me closer...Yeah that is good...Sure I practice a lot...Yeah the teacher Lady is pleased with me. And the others too. Well yes. It will form. ...Yes I know, the time...Just...You know I always end up feeling that I am waiting far too long. Alright. I have to go before they send out a warrant of arrest on me. Yeah sure, I will call you right away in that case, so you can see me in the evening news - shaking his head laughing he get his things - Okay. Me too. Take care of you two. Bye-bye.
Brightly as his mind still around the phone call he walks inside. Tim jumping up to greet him, ask his how about.
- All is alright, thanks Tim - taking his espresso from the guy. As he slips on it he looks at the others. Andy is sitting at the mixing controls “Yeah like he knows which pretty colored button does what" - he have to smile on that sight. The studio musicians are busy with their instruments. That short blond drummer who is always hang around him trying to be friendly jitter again, as he saw David his smile light up warmly like the sun, waving his drumsticks towards him.
- Hello Chris – they hug as he gets close – everything’s fine?
- Sure I was waiting for you. I can’t go out to have a smoke and coffee with those ones – signals with his head to the direction of the rest of the crew.
- Yeah we sneak out soon – lapping his shoulders. He shakes hands with the others too. The atmosphere is nice course the working is in progress as it should. Unconsciously he gets more and more distanced from the real existing glass walls and the man behind it. But he can’t stretch all the chit-chat forever, he end up where he should. Trying to keep cool he looks up burnish his long lock behind his ear.
The blond man with closed eyes and angelic face sings the song bend close to the microphone. He is almost shining. At least in the eyes of the paralyzed singer he is an angel, even without hearing his voice. Gulping a huge one he tries to get back his composure as he sits beside Fletch and try to cover his discomfort he escapes in to the songs papers.
- Which one he sings? - asks unconcerned, but his voice shaky tone gives him away. Whatever. “Whatever! I am nervous cause of the singing. What are you staring at, you clapping champion? I can be nervous cause of the recording, no?”
- I wasn’t here when he started. – Measures him with that know it all look the questioned one. - Something private project from the new ones that he wrote while you…
-Yeah right. Good, I will look over those ones as well – cuts off the possibility of the detailing.
“New songs while I was out. Its sounds like I gone to the corner store or something. Whatever!” He is looking at the fresh material trying to hold on to his cool with arrogant thinking. He can’t be seen weak again. He amused them way too many times with that before. When Mart comes out he acts like nothing happening. He doesn’t take notice, he’s here to work, and so he’s way too busy working than to look up at him from the lyrics. Yeah that sounds good. He can believe that, though his heart beats in his throat from the other one’s presence.
- Hello Dave – he hears the voice.
- Hi! – with not lifting his gaze he grabs the papers and goes inside the booth. Avoiding any contact.
The curly man stays calm, not showing the hurt inside. Yes it seems he’s finally done it. He just lost him again, maybe this time for good. Sitting down to the chair that holds Dave’s warmth and scent is a feel like nails digging in his flesh. It’s afternoon now, he was working on that song for him. Just for Dave. He wants to make it perfect. Only Tim and Andy heard it till now. He tortured himself to fill the song with his emotions and he’s treating him like air. Well he wanted that. So he must take what he bought. Dave throws himself in to working harder than ever. That is a good sign. And he is friendly with the others, even with Andy too. Only treating him like air. Well people needs air…Martin smiles “Yes he needs me like air-some arsenic gas I was.“
Fletcher is right. They are too much alike. So as their minds set on recording mode and they starts to act like two newly met dock-workers whom too involved with the material and don’t have a personal life all is fitting like clockworks. Working like machines, avoiding all the unnecessary talking. They can do that easily. Martin has to fill the main composer’s seat, not having someone around to past that task over to. Being mostly with the musicians and Tim. David now within days made good pals with that foreign drummer, going to pubs and having the same kind of sick sense of humor. The two once lovers drifting apart like the past has been erased. The band is over with the first few press conferences. Andy’s all time lines now is golden “The vibe is great, Dave is in good shape, his singing is fantastic, we’re like family.”
- Yeah, I know that family feeling – mumbles Dave over the breakfast table reading – I had enough of that at twelve, thank you – throws the newspaper next to the plate. He’s lost his appetite. At least he tried to force the food down, but now his stomach give up. It got used to the empty status and nowadays it gets so overstuffed. Dave can visualize it like some funny comic. The small sad and helpless looking stomach staring at the huge mountain of food and the poor thing is very unsure about what it should be done with all that. He can’t hold his giggles back. Maybe he should draw that scene. He drew so long ago. Well now he has some spare time. The recording is heading where it should, all is in time. Yes Sir Andrews is right. The vibe is G.R.E.A.T. Christian have that ill nature like him, they got close buddies now. Dave even trusts him enough to share his sexual interest with him. And Chris wasn’t had a second though towards him. Accepted him the way he is. Well he is a fan of the band. No. Now he is more. Chris is a friend. WOW! He got a friend from the band. That’s odd. But it’s good to have him. And Tim is a really great producer, got all those ideas where the tracks should head. Beside that coldness he still feeling inside all is just fun-fucking-tastic! The sarcastic bitter smile that forms on his face is telling that all of the positive thinking is useless.
- So lie to me…what a fucker I am!
The confused man turns his sight to the outside world. His apartment is on the twelfth floor, from the balcony ha can keep an eye on the ants who’s running around below on the streets. Driving them little cars, hurrying somewhere, acting like that something is so important that it worth rushing like mad. The poor things. Running in circles in their treadmill everyday. Not living just existing. It’s sad. No, it’s disgusting. He always pitied that lifestyle. Battled against it. And well, he tried completely everything to escape it. Maybe he fights too much. Tried too much, and now he still doesn’t feel that freedom and happiness that he longed and it’s need made him leave his home as a kid. It feels like he gone too far for nothing. Still incomplete, still broken, still miserable and empty. Depression starts to grab him again with those strong cold hands, the ones he’s always aware of inside his chest. He can still remember very clearly the last time those hands squeezed the life out of his heart. They still there waiting for the next time. Dave can almost see it. The visuals are coming. Oh fuck, he’s going to hallucinate again. Forgot to take his morning meds. All those grey clouds covering the sky don’t help either in the mood. The wind turning icy, blowing his dark locks off his face. Closing his eyes he bends his head back a little, enjoying the cooling air on his pulsating forehead. It’s so calmingly chilly easing the burning pain inside. He gets lost in the feeling turning numb.
Now David sits on the balcony under the dark clouds still as a statue. He lets the cool strong wind carry him away. Picking up his sense easily like it picks up his hair. It holds on it like it holds on his thoughts that leave this useless piece of heavy rock shaped as a human body.
The sharp pain pinning through his scalp make him realize that his time of free falling is not now. Again it seems he just don’t deserve that kind of peace. The world turning back into reality again. Real, but not very clear. Opening his eyes he’s surprised that the moist on his face is not rain, it’s his tears. The sky is angry now with various shades of black and grey. To Dave it’s like a graphic draw. He even smiles on it. Well, he wanted to draw. Before the storm’s silence is covering the city. At the end of the horizon the far away lightning’s flashes. Making the drawled sky tones and outlines more visual.
The man is still motionless, still lost somewhere. The hurt in his head turning into cramps that blurry his sight. Mr. Migraine is back, and because he forgot to hold him back with the pills, now his going for a riot. This is the last line he can think over, as the heavy cramp slide down his spine from his head. Making him curve into a ball with a loud moan. His jaws pressed together, his stomach turning upside down, a bitter lump filling his throat. With the last spark of his will power he wishes for a quick rush trying not to faint. After a few seconds his muscles ease up. He drops down to his hands and knees from the seat. Gasping for air. Thanking to that someone who is in command over him to let him breath finally. He knows he don’t have too much time, so he stands on his shaking legs try to find his way to the night-stand. Stumbling like a blind man. Now he can’t bare the pain anymore. Kneeling beside the bed he flips the lid off the plastic tube swallowing the meds with much difficulty. But they’re finally down. Only be able to focus on his breathing he’s unconsciously lay on the bed on his side waiting for the relief. He’s not aware of his falling tears, or the way he grabs the plastic bottle with whitened fist. He keeps holding on to the last straw that could save him from drowning into the pain.