hi i have some continued thoughts about the gif set i made earlier but i’m just thinking about like baby boys writing nothing personal and jack just like feeling really down on himself one day bc he doesn’t know what he’s contributing and alex tells him he named this song for him bc he is so important i don’t know there are so many THOUGHTS TO BE HAD why are they like this
hi paige i don’t know if this was supposed to be a prompt but i took it as one because i’m me hope that’s okay <3 (also here is the gifset in question, warning for max damage)
read it here on ao3
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“Hey, where’d Jack go?”
Flyzik looks up from his laptop and glances around the control room. “I dunno,” he says. “I thought he was here.”
“I leave for two minutes,” Alex says, sighing exasperatedly. “We need to put a bell on that kid.”
“Believe me, if I could, I would,” says Flyzik, returning to the all-important task of probably talking shit on Twitter or whatever he does when he’s taking up studio space.
Squire, whose playing had been arrested upon Alex’s re-entry, starts the guitar line from the top. The unfinished track fills the small room. Alex considers handcuffing him just so he’ll stop playing that one fucking guitar part.
At this rate, he’ll be sick of the song before it’s even released.
“I’m going to find Jack,” he announces, not that anyone cares. In a halfway attempt at defiance, or being annoying, or whatever, he snatches Flyzik’s coffee mug off the table.
“Hey,” Flyzik says half-heartedly without looking up. “Give that back.”
“You’re fired,” Alex informs him.
“Joke’s on you, I quit this morning,” says Flyzik.
Alex rolls his eyes and leaves the control room.
There’s really only one place Jack is likely to be (okay, two places, but Alex has just come from the bathroom and he’d been the only one in there). Alex heads for the lounge. The TV is on, playing a commercial for mattresses. Occupying the entire length of the couch:
“Jack,” Alex says. “Where’d you go, man, I thought we were working on the song.”
Jack makes no indication that he's heard Alex at all.
“Dude,” Alex says, coming into the room and facing Jack. The way Jack is slumped into the cushions, it looks like he’s been lying here all day, not for two minutes. “Were you just waiting for me to go to the bathroom so you could bail?”
Jack shoots him a glare, but again says nothing. Alex frowns.
“Are you good?” he asks, sinking to the floor with his legs crossed. He sets Flyzik’s coffee on the table at his side. “Is something wrong?”
Jack groans. “Can you leave me alone?”
“Hey,” Alex says, hurt. “What —” He breaks off. Obviously Jack doesn’t want company — or at least not Alex’s company, which stings — and if Alex doesn’t want to be a dick, he should leave.
Except Jack is already kind of being a dick. So.
“Dude,” Alex says again. Jack keeps his eyes on the TV over Alex’s head. “Can you at least look at me?”
“I’m just taking a break, what’s the big deal?” Jack mutters.
“The big deal is you were fine five minutes ago when we were tracking the guitar,” Alex says irritably. “I leave for two seconds and when I come back you’re gone? ‘Taking a break’?”
“Yes, Alex, I came to jerk off in peace,” Jack snaps. “So can you piss off?”
Alex huffs. “Stop being an asshole when I’m just trying to understand what’s wrong.”
“Nothing is wrong, dude!” Jack finally looks at him, though it’s clear he would rather not be. “You don’t need me to finish the song, okay? You have Squire to do the guitar, and if he can’t do it then you will, so I’m just gonna sit this one out, alright?”
Alex stares at him. “The fuck do you mean, we don’t need you to finish the song? You need to learn it. And Squire’s just doing the demo track anyway. Meaning technically he doesn’t need me for it, either.”
“Alex, you wrote the fucking song.” Jack crosses his arms. “It wouldn’t exist without you. Unlike me.”
“You…would exist without me?”
Jack glares at him, again. “No, the song would still exist without me. And it would have a guitar part, without me. I know my role in the band, Alex, I’m not getting any ideas, okay? I’m the one who makes inappropriate jokes on Twitter and collects bras during shows. I don’t contribute in the studio.”
The gears in Alex’s brain grind loudly to a halt. “You don’t — what? What?”
Jack draws his knees up to his chest and looks back up at the TV. “Am I wrong?”
“Uh, yes?!” Alex says emphatically. “Extremely wrong, what the fuck? Since when is this a thing? You really feel this way?”
“Oh my God, it’s not a big deal,” Jack grumbles.
“It’s a big deal to me,” Alex retorts. “You think you don’t contribute when we’re in the studio? You’re, like, the reason most of these songs get made. If you weren’t here we’d still be on our first record.”
“You don’t need to therapy me,” Jack says dully. “I’m fine with it.”
Which is obviously not true. Jack’s shuttered expression and bitchy attitude don’t exactly communicate ‘fine.’
“I’m not trying to ‘therapy’ you,” Alex says, making air quotes. “Whatever the fuck that means. I’m trying to tell you something you should already know.”
Jack sighs wearily. Somehow he seems to sink deeper into the couch, like whatever’s weighing him down is only getting heavier. “Alex, it’s fine.”
“Stop saying it’s fine,” Alex says sharply. “It’s not fine. Did someone say something when I left? Is that why the mood whiplash?” There’s no way. Squire would never, and Flyzik hadn’t even been on the same planet. Not that Flyzik ever would, either, but then again, they make a lot of fucking jokes around here. Sometimes the kind of joke that hits a little too close to home. Call it an occupational hazard of living and working with a bunch of guys in their early twenties; none of them really know when to stop.
It’s all fun and games until someone gets hurt.
Jack’s gaze flits between Alex and the TV, which has really been playing commercials for far too long. He seems to realize he’s not going to escape this conversation, and with an almighty sigh grabs the remote and hits mute.
“No one said anything, okay?” There’s a pause. Alex waits patiently while Jack gathers his thoughts. “It was just that, like, you were there, and we were joking around, and then you left, and like…Squire kept playing the part, Flyzik was still on fucking MySpace or whatever, and, like, I don’t know. It just felt like if I left it wouldn’t matter, so I did.” He barks a humorless laugh. “And I was right. It didn’t matter.”
“It mattered to me,” Alex says. “I came back and you had abandoned me with Squire and Flyzik. You think I want to be stuck with them?”
One corner of Jack’s mouth pulls up, barely, then drops down again. “I’m fine,” he says a third time. “You can go back and finish tracking the lead. Just call me when you need me for something.”
Alex considers this. “You know, I could use a break, while I’m here.” He takes a sip of Flyzik’s coffee, which is absolutely disgusting and also room temperature at this point. Jack frowns at him.
“You’re in the middle of demo-ing a song,” he says flatly. “‘Best Friend Knows,’ right?”
“Well, as you so eloquently pointed out, Squire can track the guitar,” Alex says. “And in fact is tracking the guitar. And has been for half an hour. He doesn’t need me for it, either.”
“But that’s not the fucking same and you know it. You wrote the song.”
“Yeah, so what? It’s not that great of a song. Anyone could have written it. I bet Andrew has fifty better songs in his back pocket.”
“But Andrew isn’t in the band,” Jack says. “The whole point is they’re your lyrics that you write for your band.”
“And you play the guitar,” Alex counters, raising his eyebrows at Jack. “Yeah, there are a billion songwriters and guitarists in the world. Anyone can play guitar, but there’s only one All Time Low guitarist, and it’s you. You’re our guy, Jack. You brought the band together, you keep it together, and you keep us moving forward. So what if you’re not writing lyrics? There’s way more to being in a band than writing the fucking lyrics. I promise you, man, without you we’d still be playing the fucking Dulaney Talent Show. We’d be fucking nowhere. We definitely wouldn’t be in L.A. recording our second full-length studio album.”
Silence falls as Alex’s words hang in the air. They’re both quiet for a moment. The Red Bull fridge buzzes in the background, and even more faintly comes the sound of Squire relentlessly playing the same lead part for what has to be the millionth time.
“If you say so,” Jack finally says, although he doesn’t really seem to believe it.
“I do,” Alex says firmly. Jack is the heart of the band more than anyone else, the beating pulse that keeps them alive no matter what shit gets thrown their way. When they were traveling from venue to venue in a shitty van, Jack was the one who kept spirits high. In their earliest days, Jack had held them together like glue, as if he could tell that something really special would happen as long as he didn’t let them go.
And he’d been right. There’s no All Time Low without Jack. That’s always been obvious to Alex.
“I think it’s an awesome song,” Jack quietly adds, as an afterthought. “No one else could’ve written it, so take that shit back.”
“Mediocre at best,” Alex says. “But there’s still time to make it better.”
“I like it,” Jack insists. “It’s cool. You’re a good songwriter.”
Alex waves a hand. “All the good lines are from Squire.”
“Well, I don’t know any of the words,” Jack says, a hint of his usual dry humor making a comeback. “But I bet that’s not true. All the best lines always come from you.”
“They’re meh. There’s not even a good line for a title. ‘What Your Best Friend Knows’ is just the most repeated line, but like, I don’t know. It’s boring.”
“So just call it something else,” Jack says. “The title doesn’t have to come from the song. You might have heard of a little album called From Under The Cork Tree? It’s by this super underground band, I’m not sure if you’ve heard of them.”
Alex laughs a little. “Yeah, okay. I guess.”
Another pause fills the room. Finally Jack says, “If you want to hang out, you can, but stop trying to therapy me.”
“I’m not trying to therapy you! It’s called being your friend, you dumbass.”
“Well, cut it out,” Jack deadpans. There’s the Jack Alex knows.
Alex smiles at him, even though he knows it makes him look very sincere, more sincere than Jack probably wants from him. “You made your band bed,” he says. “Now you have to lie in it.” He half-stands and clambers onto the couch, and Jack stretches his legs over Alex’s lap. “What are we watching?”
“I don’t know,” Jack says, reaching for the remote. “It’s been commercials since I got here.”
“Jesus Christ, don’t these people have anything better to do than advertise all day every day?” Jack unmutes the TV. An episode of a show neither of them know is playing. Alex rolls his eyes. “Which channel is playing Lost reruns, do you think?”
“Only one way to find out,” Jack says, raising the remote like a wand. “Hope you brought a board ‘cause it’s time for some channel surfing.”
“Oh my God, you’re so lame.”
Jack snickers. “Maybe there’ll be a line you can use for the song title. Like a ‘Nobody Puts Baby In A Corner’-type thing.”
“In Lost?” Alex says skeptically.
“Maybe, you don’t know.”
Alex highly doubts Lost will have any cool one-liners that could double as song titles, but it’s not a bad idea, pulling an iconic movie quote the way Fall Out Boy did on Cork Tree. The gimmick isn’t really the All Time Low style, but there’s a first time for everything.
Besides, Alex thinks, glancing over at Jack, whose attention is trained on the TV, I think I know the perfect movie.
—
“What?”
They’re back in the studio the following day. After yesterday’s minor emotional hurdle, Jack seems to be doing much better. Right now his eyes are wide in surprise as he stares at Alex.
“‘Keep The Change’ —”
“I know the quote,” Jack interrupts, a smile stretching over his face. “That’s the name? Of the song?”
Alex grins. “Has a cool ring to it, don’t you think?”
“Are you fucking kidding me? This is the best day of my life,” Jack enthuses, beaming.
Alex shrugs. “Well, someone gave me the great idea to use a movie quote for a title. This felt fair.”
“Alex, I literally love you so much, you don’t even know,” Jack says. “Just for this, I’m giving you my firstborn.”
“If you ever have children, God save us all,” Flyzik says dryly from the far side of the room. He’s not wrong, but Jack doesn’t even act offended, still caught up in the excitement of the song title.
“Hey,” Alex says in a low voice, kicking lightly at Jack’s leg. “For the record, I’d never in a million years have thought to use a movie quote title.”
“That’s why I’m here,” Jack says.
Alex gives him a meaningful look. “That’s my point, man. Next time you think you’re not contributing, just remember this, alright?”
The shadow of realization passes over Jack’s face, and he shakes his head incredulously. “You are such a piece of shit,” he says, although he doesn’t seem upset. “This was just to make a point?”
“I didn’t do it to make a point,” Alex says. “I did it because it was a good idea. But it does make a point, because you thought you weren’t contributing in the studio, and this is proof that you are.”
Jack sighs. “Point taken.” A little bit of humility colors his expression. “Thanks.”
Alex gives him a cheeky smile. “You are welcome,” he says airily, and throws an arm over Jack’s shoulders. “And now I think we both have some guitar parts to learn, am I right?”
“Yup,” says Squire, as if he’d just been waiting for his cue. “Jack, you wanna track this?”
Jack glances over at Alex, who grins. “Yeah,” he says, stepping forward and taking the guitar out of Squire’s hands. “I’d love to.”
ok i need your 5sos historian brain because ashton deleted all of his instagram and in all my digging i cannot find this video anywhere lol but do you know if the person in the background at 5:10 is kaykay? for science?
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Here is a link to the original video and she was untagged in the post but with like 99.999999% certainty I can say that is indeed Kaykay
