★ — lyrical healing.

ABEL MICHAEL THOMAS THIRTY-ONE. MUSICIAN.

[abel-thomas]

monikahalston‌

          “And I’m impressed that no one’s recognized you. Though, I’m sure that beard of yours helps with the anonymity. Isn’t that going to be a little hot for summer?” In a teasing manner, Monika pantomimed scratching at an invisible beard. It was a different look for Abel, but there was no denying that it suited him. Everything seemed to. When he’d walked back into her life last December, fresh-faced and grinning, he’d seemed so much more mature than the Nashville-bound twenty-year-old she’d kissed goodbye all those years ago. And now, just shy of six months later, he’d changed even more. They both had; individually, and as friends.

          (Friends. Such a lovely word, evocative of warm memories, and yet it wasn’t enough to convey the complexities of their relationship, their history, and everything in-between.)

          Clearing her throat, Monika focused on what Abel was saying about his records. “Come on, they’ve got to have them kicking around here,” she said, gesturing to the rows of vinyl. “I’m sure the owner won’t mind, but we should probably ask the guy at the desk if he’s cool with you taking a Sharpie to whatever they’ve got in stock.” It felt good to see him again, to keep up the playful banter they’d managed just fine, despite the awkwardness that had lingered in the weeks that followed their encounter in Abel’s new apartment. Her lips formed a modest smile at his mention of the Fourth. Her birthday. Had he forgotten? She couldn’t be sure. Not that it really mattered. She had a feeling that her thirty-first would be a quiet celebration; a candle-in-a-cupcake kind of thing. It would suffice. “Well, thanks for making time for me,” she said quietly, a smile lighting up her face, the sarcasm gone from her tone and replaced with genuine contentment. 

          Remember when we were kids and we’d come in here and pick our vinyls for one another? How could she forget? Some of their best memories were made around music, including their first date. Which he’d invited her to recreate, essentially. Swallowing hard, Monika nodded along. “I know I’m up for that challenge, Thomas,” she said, thankful that the partition between them concealed the tremor in her hand as she selected a Blondie album from the display before her. “Any rules you want to set before I go and win this thing?”

          “You and me both." He was thankful that no one had pulled him aside to ask for autograph or picture, but he knew better than to think it wouldn’t happen before their evening together was over. “Yeah, I don’t know how much longer I’m going to be able to take it. Having a beard is cool and all, but it’s hot and there’s a lot that goes into making look nice,” he grinned, well-aware of just what the beard factor did for him.

          Despite the hometown love and appreciated being admired, he would always be somewhat reserved when it came to his own work being displayed. He was proud of it, but he was also okay with not seeing it around. “You don’t think they’d be cool with me marking up their stock? My signature isn’t that bad, okay? It’s way better since high school.” Practice made perfect, right? He enjoyed the back and forth; the ease behind it all. They were working a term no more than friends, but the love he felt for the woman was far from that of a friendly heart. “Anytime,” he returned, the statement padded with far more commitment than she probably knew to be true. He’d drop everything for her if she asked, but until then, it was patience he had to rely on.

          They weren’t kids anymore, but he craved the feeling they’d shared whenever they were. They’d been careless about the world; lovestruck teenagers looking to spend a lifetime by each other’s side before he’d gone and screwed up the dream. He’d walked out, yet she’d let him. Both at fault, but neither letting the other take the fall. “No rules to set before you lose. I don’t wanna make this any harder on you than it already is. You’ve got ten minutes on the clock to find your pick. If you wanna go ahead and forfeit, I get it. No one likes to lose, especially you,” he teased, wanting nothing more than to see just how competitive she could be. “May the odds be never in your favor, Halston. When the clock strikes quarter till, that’s when we have to show our final selection. Time starts now.”

          Ready to win, but more eager to see what she picked, Abel started thumbing through the classic rock section, again impressed by every letter he passed. He was a lover of all things music and Monika, and when the two were put together, nothing else mattered. Aerosmith, The Beatles, and Eagles all were viable options, but he continued to flip until fingers paused on Fleetwood Mac’s “Rumours.” It was yet another that he’d played for her, it’s track-list one of the better vinyls he’d been able to move the needle on. “You doing okay over there?” With a little over five minutes to go, Abel felt more than confident he’d found the winner. Still, his quest to find the unquestionable best wasn’t over.

[abel-thomas]

frankierobbins‌

Living out the real life version of Wedding Crashers had never exactly been on Frankie’s bucket list, but it was true what they said about idle hands, and the day was crisp and clear and the dress she’d just bought herself from Target was begging for a reason to come out and play. It was simply fate (and the impeccably dressed crowd funneling into the hotel lobby) that had piqued Frankie’s interest and had her slipping into the line behind some guy with an impressively tailored suit. 

For a wedding reception, it was easy enough to blend in. Plucking a champagne flute from a passing tray, Frankie strutted across the room like she belonged there. Taking a rather large sip, she made her way to the back of the room, her eyes locked on a lone figure against the wall. Sliding into position next to them and smiling like she’d just gotten away with something, she brought the flute back to her lips. “Bride or groom?” she asked as she took a sip.

Come to the reception, it’ll be fun. The only fun that had been had was an old friend using him as bragging rights. It shouldn’t have annoyed him in the way that it did, but Abel was always willing to help out wherever needed, if he did nothing at all. Round after round, he scooped a drink off of every tray until his annoyance had been replaced with amusement. After that, he’d called it quits and wondered just how long he had to stay before being able to leave without notice.

Bored, buzzed, and quite honestly, ready to go, Abel turned the female at his side and sighed in defeat. “Groom. Old high school buddies. You?” Buddies was putting it loosely, but he’d considered everyone a friend at some point or another. “If I’m being honest right now, I’m looking for a way out of this without someone noticing I’m gone. It was fun and all, don’t get me wrong. Just ready to get outta here.”

[cassandraxwilson]

JB’s

[abel-thomas]

cassandraxwilson‌

“Anyone worth their stones’ll tell you that answer,” she said before laughing at his pantomimed hat doff. “Ahh, coming down to mingle with us lesser folk, yeah?” Cass knew Abel wouldn’t mind her teasing him. Out of all the celebrities she worked with, he was by far one of the most down to earth and likable ones. She smirked at his song reference. “Nah. ‘Cotton Eye Joe’ was a few rounds back. You missed that one. It was a real hoot, lemme tell you.” Matching his pose by leaning forward, Cass cocked her head to the side, mulling over his words for a minute before replying. “And what exactly do you mean by keeping it that way? Hmm? You know, connections aren’t exactly a bad thing.” She might not have been one to talk when it came to romantic entanglements, but Cass had a good network of friends in town that she wouldn’t trade for anything. “Why wouldn’t you wanna reach out?”

“Personally, I don’t care for the fruity stuff. Beer tastes horrible and the clear stuff gives me a headache. Bourbon is the only way to go.” He’d had fancy cocktails at one too many events, but nothing soothed him like a whiskey neat. “I’m just like everyone else in this place. Only difference is I’ve written a few songs and done a couple tours. Doesn’t make me any better than them,” he shrugged, far too humble for his own good. Money hadn’t changed him, in fact, he’d barely spent anything since his back account had been filled. His mother’s shop was perhaps his most expensive purchase, but it was nothing compared to the happiness it offered her. “What a shame. I guess I’ll have to come back next week in time.” Connecting with people seemed far too difficult for his liking. The more people he got close to, the more that he could potentially letdown. “Just seems easier to fly solo. Pretty sure most people don’t give a shit about actually getting to know me. Fame sorta blocks out your humanity.” Everyone wanted him for his name, not for what he had to offer. “Besides, I got a pretty good connection standing right in front of me. I mean, if haven’t changed your mind about me yet.”

[abel-thomas]

monikahalston‌

          A laugh tumbled from Monika’s lips. “Abel Thomas is impressed. What an honor that is for the owners.” Her understanding of music was limited to appreciation, and of industry was even more limited to what she’d heard from Abel in the months since his return to Philadelphia. She understood his inclination for the classics ⏤ both in genre and format ⏤ but couldn’t deny how it made him sound like an old man calling for children to get off his front lawn. “Hey, I’m pretty sure they have your albums kicking around here.” Her smile broadened when he showed her the album again, the strokes of color transporting her back to her teenage years, when they’d lie on the floor in his living room and listen to records. He’d sing and she’d try her best to carry a note. In retrospect, it was one of a few signs back then that he was destined for something more than this city could offer him. But Monika knew that now, just as she’d known it then. She felt herself swell with pride at the thought, a genuine flood of happiness washing over her, for him and for everything he’d accomplished over the years. Making it in music didn’t seem easy, not by a long shot, and he’d gone and proven people wrong on his way to carving out his own audience, releasing hit songs, selling millions of albums.

          “It’s good to see you, too. I know you’ve been busy.” She’d been busy too, with end-of-the-year preparations, but it somehow seemed far less hectic compared to his schedule of meetings and songwriting sessions. “So I’m really glad you could fit me into your schedule,” she added with an exaggerated sigh as she flicked through the vinyl in front of her. “What prompted the return to our old stomping grounds? Are you on the hunt for something?”

          “I think I’m more impressed with the fact they’re still around.” That, and that someone would honestly leave behind a find like he gripped in his hands. He probably had another copy in the safety of his bedroom, a place they’d spent many hours, some more innocent than others. “Think so? I wouldn’t mind signing a few if they did.” It only seemed fair seeing as the service they’d done him over the years. They’d help feed his hunger for music and for that, he owed them everything. He owed a lot of people, but he owed no one as much as he owed Monika. Whether she knew it or not, she was the muse behind every track he’d ever released; every song inspired by her impact on his life in some way, shape, or form. She’d given him a reason to write and while it hurt like hell, he didn’t waste that creativity.

          “Things are starting to settle down. I’m excited to spend the Fourth here. First time in eleven years that I don’t have somewhere else to be or something else to do.” Management kept him busy and for good reason. A quiet chuckle escaped full lips, the familiarity of her sarcasm putting him at ease. “Wasn’t easy. I had to move some things around, shake some things up, and make a few phone calls.” No matter what he had to do, he’d always make time for her if she had the time to give in return.

          “That’s a good question,” he hummed, bottom lip settling between pearly whites as he backed away, only to settle on another section of vinyls. “I wanted to see how the place was holding up and I figured it was only fair if I asked you to come seeing as I rarely came here without you. Just felt like the right thing to do. That, and I wanted to try something. Remember when we were kids and we’d come in here and pick our vinyls for one another? I wanna do that again. Think you can accept that challenge, Halston?”

[cassandraxwilson]

JB’s

[abel-thomas]

cassandraxwilson‌

“Is there any other way?” Cass shot back, the amusement in her tone matching the man’s. Still without looking his way, she speared a few bits of fruit on a tiny plastic sword to garnish the drink she was on before sliding it across the bar to the woman awaiting it. Finally turning to see who had spoken, her eyes lit up in recognition. She and Abel knew each other through the music scene, having met at a few parties of other well known country artists. “Well hey there, darlin’. What brings you here tonight?” Judging by how he was dressed, Abel was hoping to fly under the radar and Cass had no problem not calling him out. Pouring him a glass, she set it down in front of him with an expectant grin. “You here all by yourself?”

“Depends on who you’re asking.” He’d seen and drank more mixed cocktails than any man ever should, but preferred something simple and to the point. He watched in pure amusement as tended to another customer before recognition truly sat in. “Hey to you,” he greeted, tipping an imaginary hat with a smirk. “Figured I’d get out of my apartment and at least try to live a normal life. I assumed everyone would be too busy with the Cotton Eye Joe to notice me.” For the most part, he’d been right. Besides, most of the people in attendance probably knew nothing more than the classics. “Not like I got many people around here,” he shrugged, leaning atop the wooden bar. “Trying to keep it that too.”

[abel-thomas]

pao-molina‌

“Not a bother at all,” Paola smiled, adjusting in her seat and pulling her sunglasses from her face to the top of her head. She inhaled, basking in the sun and sitting Indian style with her hands placed on her knees. She reached down to grab her tumbler, filled with alcohol of course. There is never a reason not to day drink when the opportunity presents itself. Sipping from her straw, she looked Abel up and down. He mentioned that he was a returning Philadelphian but she didn’t recognize him. Pao is typically pretty good with faces, but this one she couldn’t place. “Eleven years, huh? Couldn’t take the traffic anymore?” She joked, but honestly, the traffic is no joke. “What have you been up to?”

“Don’t be afraid to tell me if I am,” he returned, gentle smile resting on his lips. He had nothing to do but lounge the entire summer away, at least until his label came at him once again for the next album. It was a lot of pressure, but then again, it was the career path he’d chosen and at one point, he’d loved it enough to everything else behind. “I’m glad to be back. It’s no southern getaway, but it’s home.” Or something close to it. “Y’know, some music stuff. Headlining tour here, few opening acts there. Nothing too cool.”

[girlrose]

[mattstewartmusic]

[abel-thomas]

TEXT MEME FT. MONIKA HALSTON

UNSENT TEXT MESSAGE → I wish I could see you right now. I can’t get you outta my head, M. Ever since you stayed the night, you’re all I can think about. Maybe we should try again? I never stopped loving you. I’m sorry I left all those years ago. I fucked up.

[abel-thomas]

                    FATHER’S DAY... MOTHER’S DAY 2.0?

Debra Thomas did on her own. When she was pregnant with Abel, Michael, Abel’s Father, was shipped overseas to serve his country proudly in a final tour before settling into his new family. There were times that Abel didn’t understand why his father wasn’t around, but he always understood that his father was a hero. Growing up, it was hard at times not having a father when everyone else around him had one. He didn’t get the luxury of playing catch with a father or doing whatever it was that other kids did with their father. His mother was too busy with her shop to get him to sporting events, and therefore he took up another hobby that helped him feel a little closer to his father.

His mother did everything on her own, but she never let Abel forget the memory of his father. His middle name is Michael which stands as a solid reminder of where he came from. Every Father’s Day, Abel’s mother would be sure to take him to the military cemetery where his father is buried. Each year, it was Abel’s choice on what color flowers they’d plant, which he usually went with a royal blue.

When he was eight, his mother gave him an old guitar that had belonged to his father. To his own surprise, playing came easy. At first, it was nothing more than a hobby he enjoyed in the safety of his room, but as he aged, he got more serious about his music. He wanted to make his mother proud and he wanted to do right by his father and that beat up guitar.

Father’s Day is important to Abel because it helps him remember where he started. He still visits his dad at the cemetery on Father’s Day and is always accompanied by royal blue roses, sometimes paired with red and white. Father’s Day is a time to remember his dad, but is also a time to remember the fact that his mother played both roles.

As for his own son that he recently learned about, this is his first Father’s Day knowing he’s a father, or was? He can’t help but wonder if his son is being taken care of the way he should be, but there’s nothing he can do about it now. He trusts that Monika made the right decision, even if part of him wonders what life could’ve been like had she asked him to stay. One day he wants to be a father though and he wants to do it right and one day he will be.

[cassandraxwilson]

Text Starters!

Send ✉ for an 2 AM text Send ✘ for an unsent text Send ☠ for a threatening message Send ❤ for a lusty/loving/affectionate message Send ♣ for a drunk message

[cassandraxwilson]

JB’s

[abel-thomas]

cassandraxwilson‌

Feet stomped along the top of the bar, patrons hurriedly moving their drinks out of the way as the couple of women dancing atop the bar scuffled along in a line dance to a Jo Dee Messina classic. “You’ve really done it this time, haha, my give a damn’s busted!” Cass sang aloud and punched the air as the last strains of the song echoed through the bar to the sound of raucous cheers. God, she was having fun. Hopping down from the bar, her cowboy boots clattering on the floor, the brunette immediately went back to work, feeling like she was 21 again. Done up as stereotypically country as could be, she had donned her cowboy boots, her daisy dukes, and a plaid, red, flannel shirt that she had mostly unbuttoned and tied up to show off her midriff. The white cowboy hat that had topped her curls was lost somewhere in the crowd, but she figured it’d either make its way back eventually, or she’d just buy a new one. She heard as much as felt someone step up to where she was at the bar. “Hey, what can I get for ya?” she drawled without glancing up from the drink she was already mixing, her voice coming out twangy and flirty.

After eleven long years in Nashville, nothing surprised the male, especially something as southern as the night he was experiencing. Everyone in the bar sang along to the well-known song, some more enthused than others as they danced around to every strum of the guitar and drop of the drum. After it was over, Abel stepped up to the bar, his plain t-shirt and jeans definitely looking quite underdone as he was met with a cowboy hat and flannel shirt. “A bourbon of some sort seems fitting,” he returned, somewhat impressed by the outfit and accent that followed. “Neat, that is. Might as well fit the occasion,” he smirked, hoping that no one recognized him in the low light and loud music.

[abel-thomas]

monikahalston‌

📍 at the vinyl frontier with @abel-thomas.

          So little had changed in thirteen years. Monika came to a standstill inside the front door of The Vinyl Frontier, the very record shop she and Abel had spent a generous amount of time in as lovesick teenagers, browsing the vast bank of alphabetized sleeves in search of something new to play on his late father’s old player. The storefront had suffered its share of woes over the years ⏤ she recalled a campaign to keep its doors open a few years ago amid the growing trend of digital music ⏤ but it had very much retained its character, much to her delight. And fear.

          Her visit wasn’t just a casual return to an old haunt, it was a sudden gut-punch reminder of the sticky summer days and cold winter nights spent making googly eyes at her first boyfriend over the partition separating the aisle as they picked out records for each other. Her nostalgic smile deepened as she glanced about the place, clocking the yellowed posters of Queen, Madonna and David Bowie still hanging over the cash register before settling on the very ex-boyfriend she was supposed to meet. Why had Abel chosen this place, of all places? It wasn’t a date. They’d been clear in establishing that they were just friends, and for the most part things had been okay. But as the days turned to weeks, the weeks to months, Monika wondered if what she felt for him ⏤ a potent mixture of attraction, sentimentality and heart-wrenching longing for the simplicity of the love they’d shared as kids ⏤ was worth acting on, worth ruining the friendship for. 

          Worth inevitably breaking her heart all over again?

          Walking the well-worn flooring through the store to the classic rock section, where Abel was reading the back of an Outfield record, she found her place across the partition from him. “Poor Josie,” she said, fingers tracing over the selection of vinyl in front of her, "on vacation far away. No idea what her man’s up to.” The reference wasn’t completely obscure, but one that had a different meaning to them. “Your Love” was one of a few songs that Abel kept on heavy rotation and even featured on one of the mixtapes he made her, despite her joking questions about the lyrical allusions to unfaithfulness. “Finding anything good?”

          If there was a single place that Abel felt most like himself (outside of performing), it was something as musically pleasing as a record shop. Truth be told, he was shocked to see it still standing, but it wasn’t without the lack of wear. He’d been a regular his whole teenage stretch, buying used records while everyone else wasted their money on booze. It held it’s character well, just as it held every memory he’d ever shared within those freshly painted walls. it was just another spot on Philly’s map that reminded him of her.

          Their friendly hangout had been solely his idea. It was a chance to brush over old memories, all while making new ones. The time set meant nothing to him, seeing as he’d arrived almost an hour early with the intention of scanning over the old shop’s collection before they shared a look together. He was impressed by the upkeep of stock, it’s old records mixed with releases giving him hope that stores such as this one could keep going under the digital pressure. Curious and a little too excited, nimble fingers flipped through a box until he landed on a personal favorite; Play Deep, a golden release by The Outfield.

          As if on cue, a familiar voice lightly spoke the lyrics to a classic he’d strategically placed the needle on many times, sometimes even multiple times in a row. He remembered the playful annoyance in her voice, begging him not to play it again. “Honestly? I’m impressed,” he admitted, turning to smile down at the female he was trying to play friendly with. If she wanted a friendship, he’d give her that and maybe a little more. “Can’t believe this place is still up and going. They’ve got a pretty nice selection for vinyls to be taking the backseat to phones. It’s so much more authentic than some of the places I went to in Nashville. It’s not filled with brand new releases with shiny cover art. Look at this,” he hummed, holding up the same vinyl she’d joked about. “You wouldn’t find something like this in some of those places. This is music.”

          After the final word has left his lips, Abel felt the nerves wash over him. He’d been so caught up in his speech that he hadn’t even noticed the pounding of his heart against his chest and the way it drummed in his temples. Every time felt like the first time and he couldn’t help but wonder if that’d ever change. “It’s good to see you,” he finally complimented, hoping the words wouldn’t cross the line of friendship they’d agreed upon.

[abel-thomas]

pao-molina‌

Looking up at the human eclipse in front of her, Paola felt her face soften as he attempted some jokes and an apology. Gosh, Pao. You need to stop being such a bitch. She shrugged, rising her sunglasses off her face, placing them on top of her head. “It’s fine. Not like I own the place.” She half smiled, looking around. She hadn’t really noticed before how crowded it was getting. Understandably, it was a beautiful day. Paola grabbed her bag off the chair next to her, setting it on the ground. “You looking for a place to sit?” she asked, nodding her head at the seat beside her.

Had he known was practically standing as a human umbrella, he would’ve taken less time enjoying the view and more time finding another spot to do just that. “To be fair, I picked one hell of a spot to just sightsee,” he grinned, head shaking. “I’m still getting used to being back. You wouldn’t believe how much a place could change in eleven years.” Spots were almost unrecognizable, but others hadn’t changed a bit. “As long as I’m not bothering you.” Not that he’d say much unless prompted. With that, Abel took a seat in the newly cleared spot, his smile wide as he took a moment to allow himself to relax. “It’s nice out, yeah?”

[abel-thomas]

pao-molina‌

It was the first day Paola had off in a while. She had been pulling doubles at the restaurant in the hopes of making rent this month so, needless to say, she deserved a day of relaxation. The weather was perfect: partly cloudy, high of 77 degrees - before she knew it, she found herself at the community pool. Sunscreen on, headphones in, laying back. With the next two days off, Pao planned to go out on the town and wanted a bit of sunkissed skin to show off in the newest outfit she bought. Her eyes began to close, basking in this moment, but only briefly as the sun quickly disappeared. She opened one eye, squinting with her lip curled. 

“Uh, excuse me?”

All he wanted was a day to relax without his label reaching out with questions. They had every right to be worried, but Abel had no intention of giving up. After eleven years of constant running, he was ready to rest. He wanted to see things and do things that he would’ve done had he never left. “Guess you’re not really looking for a shade tree, huh?” It was a lame attempt at a joke, but it was better than muttering a quiet apology and rushing off. “Sorry about that. I should probably watch where I choose to stand.”

[abel-thomas]

nina-floress‌

A new exhibit required new advertisements in front of the museum. They had been working on it for days and Nina stood in front of the museum at the bottom of the steps, trying not to get run down by busy people as they passed her on the sidewalk. Her eyes scanned the banners that were now adorning the museum as she came to the conclusion that everything looked perfect. Well, almost everything looked perfect. One of the smaller advertisements that had been plastered to a mounted statue looked just a bit too crooked for her liking. Without thinking and without any regard for where she was, Nina kicked off her heals and began to climb up onto the statue. It wasn’t a particularly lady-like move, nor very practical in a skirt suit, but it wasn’t enough to stop her. There she was, Nina Flores, curator of the Philadelphia Art Museum and heir to the Flores fortune, climbing a statue completely barefoot.

Reaching out, she adjusted the tiny banner as carefully as she could without slipping and falling before coming to rest on the pediment of the statue, still a few feet off of the ground. Turning her head, her eyes focused on the closest person. “Does that look straight to you?”

Philadelphia would always be home to the rising artist destined for greatness. Even after almost eleven years away, it was still the place he wanted to lay his head after a hard day’s work, whatever that entailed. For once in those eleven years though, he had no plans of a tour; no plans of traveling the world to play shows for large crowds. No, instead, he was playing catchup with everyone he’d left behind all those years ago, all while putting together new music for his label. Between checking in on his mom’s shop and doing that game of catchup, Abel found himself exploring places he’d missed out on those years ago. After all, there was no time like the present (or something of the sort), right?

“Coming from me, probably doesn’t mean much, but yeah, looks straight.” Dark hues focused in on the banner in question, taking in it’s placement before settling on his final judgement. “Looks good to me,” he shrugged, smile easy on his lips. “Need any help getting down from there?”

[passionflixsource]