#knewheaven

[stormlit]

        ❝ julia. julia, hey. ❞ jimmy catches her arm; he’d have spoken to donny about this, but their fearless leader is busy trying to resolve yet another domestic between nick and wayne, and honestly, jimmy has no desire to get close to that. (apparently it is too much to ask that they appreciate this moment for what it is --- it’s not every day they meet with a record producer, after all.)   ❝ when you get the contracts from this guy, you’ll let me look over them before anyone signs? ❞ after new york, it’s probably not something he even has to ask...but jimmy’s not taking any chances. he’ll err on the side of caution --- albeit cautiously optimistic --- ‘til he has the forms next to his legal dictionary, thanks.

( @knewheaven // liked for jimmy! )

[winndowsvista-blog]

@knewheaven liked this for a       s m a l l       starter !!

“you, uh -- you’ve got good taste in music; i love this song.” winn paused, realizing how creepy he must have sounded. he was in close enough proximity to note that she was lightly singing under her breath, and what she was singing was easily identified not just because it matched the quiet notes filling the room as background music, but because it was a favorite melody of his. it wasn’t like he’d been sitting there listening to her, though the poor woman probably thought that’s what he’d been doing. hands extended in a gesture that seemed to be an attempt to calm any nerves she may have felt. “i just, um, i could just hear you, is all. and i know the song, so...that’s all that was.” this was why he didn’t talk to strangers often.

[stormlit]

        of course donny wants nothing more than to sleep beside julia, to close his eyes and drift into the kind of deep, dreamless sleep he hasn’t seen since ‘41. (he’s too young to feel this weary, too young to be this old.) he wants to hold her tight and not be afraid of what lurks in the dark, the ghosts that howl and the demons that cut. of course he wants that --- and he’s not sure how productive he’s being, tinkering on the piano through this haze of restless exhaustion --- but donny doesn’t think it’s on the cards for him. not tonight. if he’s being realistic, not any night in the foreseeable future, either, as much as he regrets that. but sitting here helps distract him from the noise in his head that becomes unbearable when he’s lying awake staring at the ceiling, even if he’s doing that with julia in his arms. it’s something.

        ❝ i already tried. ❞ maybe not hard enough. he leans into her, resting his head on her shoulder, fingers ghosting over the keys without playing a sound.  ❝ we’re always gonna need new material. we’ve been playing the same set since we formed, people are gonna get sick of it. ❞ it’s the truth, but it’s also an excuse. a reason to avoid the bedroom, and the nightmares it contains. he smiles, a ghost of a thing, pressing his lips to julia’s shoulder.  ❝ i’m not sure even you can keep me safe from what’s up here. ❞ his fingers tap the side of his head, before dropping down, sketching out a half-formed melody.

@knewheaven // continued.

[stormlit]

        it can be frustrating, sometimes. johnny’s certain there are good things he’s just forgotten --- that might as well never have happened to him, because all the details have been wiped away, leaving his memory brand spanking new. (it’s getting better, he thinks, he can remember the band, now, and some of their gigs, but that could just be because they’re playing gigs almost every night, and there’s no time to forget again.) and because people expect him to remember. because sometimes he forgets that he forgets.  ❝ it was after rehearsal, i think. ❞ he doesn’t sound sure; memory is a flimsy thing, unable to stand up on its own.  ❝ sorry, julia, i have---i don’t remember recent things well. i can remember my childhood fine, a-and sometimes i can do things and not know how i did ‘em, but, you know, sometimes it sticks, and other times it’s gone minutes after it happened. it’s called, uh--- ❞ he pauses, thinking it through like a song, each syllable placed on a different drum,  ❝ ---anterograde amnesia. ❞      ( @knewheaven / continued. )

[stormlit]

        ❝ hey, julia. ❞ he rubs his forehead, still looking a little shellshocked; he can’t imagine creating enough cleveland pride to generate a five hundred dollar donation, and it’s a lot to take in.  ❝ i know donny said we’d get the money, but i didn’t really believe him. i thought we were gonna go regular class. did you believe him? ❞

@knewheaven // liked for johnny!

[stormlit]

        ❝ hey, julia. ❞ a hand runs through his hair, trying to smooth down the locks that have become ruffled in his hurry to get here; donny couldn’t wait for a streetcar, not this time. (how many times has he just turned up on julia’s doorstep, by now? she must be sick of him turning up unannounced---at least he has an excuse, this time.)   ❝ sorry for, uh, turning up unannounced. i tried calling, but the line was engaged. ❞ there’s a glint in his eye, reminiscent of all-nighters, but this time it’s excitement setting donny alight, fourth of july fireworks sparking from his skin.

        he grins, unable to contain it, and offers an arm.  ❝ i’ve got something to talk to you about---something good, don’t worry. you wanna take a walk? ❞

@knewheaven liked for donny!

[stormlit]

"Do you think it's warm in here?" for jimmy bc why not ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

( @knewheaven / illness starters / accepting! )

        ❝ not particularly. ❞ jimmy looks up from his book, marking his place with his finger as he studies her — the crease of concentration between his eyebrows has yet to disappear. he cares, absolutely (after all, he cares about nick, and julia is infinitely easier to be around), but he’s aware he’s not the most comforting of people. jimmy prefers finding solutions to problems, acting as diplomat rather than caretaker. but there is something clearly not quite right with julia — it’s not an endless winter day, but it’s far from balmy tropical weather outside — and that he can solve. leaving his pen between the pages, he gets to his feet, fetching her a glass of water.  ❝ do you feel unwell? achy? ❞ if she’s sick, he hopes it’s not going to go round the whole band; his workload is heavy enough as it is without being out of action for a few days.  ❝ i can open a window, if you’d like? ❞

[stormlit]

LAURA’S DOING THE BROADWAY.COM VLOG FOR BANDSTAND!!