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multirockbands · 1 year

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A Moment Too Late

•Chris Cornell•

Summary: the reader gets a phone call, the last phone call from Chris.

Warnings: Death, Suicide, Fluff (some sad shit grab your tissues)

Pairing: Chris Cornell x Fem!Reader

You and Chris have knew each other since teenage years, you saw him struggle through his darkest moments now he seemed happy, or so you though he was, you welcomed Three kids with Chris, today you all were in Detroit for one of Chris’ performances he was always anxious when it came with shows or appearances you walked into his dressing room to find him sitting, he looked up at you then put his head back down “you’ll do great my love” you said has you kneeled down in front he looked at you and gave you a slight smile “I love you so much, you know that?” He stood up and wrapped his arms around your waist locking his lips with yours, you pulled away grabbing his hand “Come on you’ll do great” he walked out the room after you his face brightened when he saw your kids, he gave them kisses and hugs and gave you a kiss before going up on stage.

*time skip*

After the show you and Chris finally made it back to the hotel room while the children were with a nanny you woke Chris who had fallen asleep during the drive, Chris seemed off but you didn’t question it probably from the show, you followed behind Chris he stopped at the desk “two rooms please” you were confused ‘two rooms?, what was he thinking?’ Chris grabbed your hand and you both were in an elevator to the second floor, you looked at him with curiosity, “why did you say two rooms?” You really needed to know why he ask for two rooms, he smiled and looked at you saying four words “Don’t worry about it” the elevator door opened and you walked out following Chris looking for your rooms “Come on Chris im your wife tell me what’s wrong”, he turned around annoyed “Look y/n if your not gonna respect me on what I want to keep to myself then leave!” “You know what I will, fuck off!”, you turned around walking away driving to the nanny was staying you got out the car knocking on the front door to reveal the nanny, “hi y/n! Aren’t you suppose to be with Chris?” You walked inside and sat down “the kids?” You asked the nanny as she say next to you “asleep. What about Chris”?, you let out a breath looking down at your hands “he wouldn’t tell me why he checked in for two rooms I was just trying to help but I didn’t get response I wanted.” You looked up at the clock reading the time 12:06 am, “I think I should get ready for bed its pretty late” the nanny agreed and went to her own room, as you got ready for bed you heard your phone ringing and saw it was from Chris.

“Hello?”, there was a silence for a second then there was an answer “hey baby im sorry for what I did I just wanna let you know I love you and the kids a lot.” He sounded sad, as if he was crying “Chris what’s wrong my love?” You heard him breath in shakily “Nothing baby im just tired” you weren’t buying any of it “No your not Chris please tell me what you did I’ll forgive you I promise” he let out a breath saying his last words “im just tired I love you” you know something was wrong and got up quick and drove to the hotel and remembered the room number of his and hurried to his room and knocked on the door “CHRIS OPEN THE DOOR PLEASE” no response “CHRIS PLEASE” again, no response you ran downstairs and asked for a copy of the room key and ran back to the room, you unlocked the door and ran into the room “CHRIS BABY IM SORRY” you turned around and saw the bathroom light on ‘Oh god please no’ you thought you ran to the door and opened it to see him hanging in the restroom “CHRIS NO!” You got him down and called the phone for help you took Chris’ lifeless body into your arms crying, “Chris please wake up, please baby I need you” you leaned down and kissed his cold lips one last time, as the ambulance came and took Chris you sat with him holding his cold hand the paramedics doing everything they can to save him, everything around you was a blur your focus was all on Chris.

Moments later you were in the waiting room with the nanny who had came along you sat there with everything being a blur thinking what you could’ve done more, you saw the doctor come out of the room Chris was in “Mrs Cornell?” You stood up and waited the doctor to say he was at least ok, but no “we tried everything we can by the time he was here he was pronounced brain dead” you felt your knees go weak as you fell to the floor thinking of the times you two were the happiest.

1980

*flashback*

You and Chris were skipping school he looked at you, admiring you “go hide and I’ll seek” you looked at him confused “what” he smiles at your cluelessness “go hide and I’ll find you” he smiled your eyes went wide as you hopped off the tree and ran somewhere to hide, you decided to hide behind a tree and heard Chris as soon as you did “im coming to get you!” You smiled to yourself hearing him getting closer “hm I wonder where she can be” you chuckled which was a bad mistake causing him to find you “I found ya!” You smiled and ran until there was grass making it easier to run you squealed as you felt a pair of arms wrap around your waist causing him to fall on top of you smiling and laughing that he caught you he leaned down and kissed you and put his face in your neck and gave it a quick peck and helped you up, you both sat on a bench nearby Chris looked at you and you smiled back, you poked his thigh smiling “what’s going on in that mind, Cornell” he smiled and said proudly “I’m gonna Marry you one day and make you Mrs. Cornell” you instantly connected you lips with his pulling away hugging him “I would love that”.

*Flashback end*

You couldn’t believe he was gone he promise he wouldn’t leave you, but he did, he promise he wouldn’t hurt you, he did if only you knew that he was struggling again you loved him so much he made your world and now the light is gone and darkness makes it’s way back in, if only you knew and only if he would’ve told you.

A/n: this was a long one let me know what you think please I also take requests love y’all!

#chris cornell #soundgarden #90s grunge #grunge #fanfiction #fanfic #reader insert #requests #x reader #rock #seattle #sadnees #fluff #punk

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rottingspunk · 2 years

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Masterlist

So some of these links go to my main blog @ozzysbloodbat bc I moved a bunch of stuff over here to help separate a lot of stuff I do so this blog is strictly grunge focused so I moved all my gunrge fics/edits to this one.

Long story short my asks are open request for any person on this list

ᴷᵘʳᵗ ᶜᵒᵇᵃⁱⁿ

ᶠᵃⁿᶠⁱᶜˢ

ᴴᵉʳᵉ ᶜᵒᵐᵉˢ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᴹᵃⁿ

ᴱᵈⁱᵗˢ

ᴮˡᵒⁿᵈⁱᵉ ⁻ ᶜᵘʳʳᵉⁿᵗ ᴶᵒʸˢ

ᴶᵉʳʳʸ ᶜᵃⁿᵗʳᵉˡˡ

ᶠᵃⁿᶠⁱᶜˢ

ᴸᵃʸⁿᵉ ˢᵗᵃˡᵉʸ

ᴰᵒ ʸᵒᵘ ᴴᵉᵃʳ ᵀʰᵃᵗ

ᶠᵃⁿᶠⁱᶜˢ

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afterglow-tommylee · 1 year

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Chapter 28. Karma And Effect

Hollywood California, October 12 2002

"Hi Mrs Lee -"

"Gina you know you can call me Andi," I smile at her as I walk in through the doors to the office building in downtown Hollywood. She was the main secretary for the entire building as my office was on the third floor.

"-Sorry... Andi," She smiles.

"It's ok... any mail?" I ask as I approach her desk.

"Oh yes... I have a stack here for you," She says as she turns in her chair then reaches for the stack of envelopes and sets them on the top of the desk for me.

"Yay," I say sarcastically with a giggle and she lets me know if anyone comes in for me today that she will just buzz me and I make my way to the elevator and up to my office on the third floor.

Once I enter my office I set the stack of envelopes down in front of me as I sit with the large bay window behind me. I didn't have much to do here today but I did have one appointment.

Chris was meeting me here today.

Ok, I know. I don't understand why I'm even entertaining the thought of speaking to him, but let me explain. Chris had reached out to me when Tommy was touring for Ozzfest back in August, and I blew him off so many times. I was pretty busy between being on the road and working then planning everything for Tommy's birthday and rehearsing with the dancers, that I really didn't have time.

Now that the craziness has finally died down, Tommy now having some free time to just do whatever, I figured maybe I should see what Chris was wanting to talk to me about. I sent him a text last week and he immediately replied saying that he would be in Los Angeles finishing up some last minute recording on an album with Brad Wilk, Tom Morello and Tim Commorford - which they now call themselves Audioslave - and that he could meet me at my office anytime.

I honestly didn't have a clue as to what he could say to me that would make everything better. It's stupid and I shouldn't even care but, the more I thought about it, I know we are going to cross paths one way or another as much as I try to tell myself that it wont happen.

A short while later, Kat calls me on the phone telling me that there is someone here to see me and I tell her to send them up.

"Well, he was always pretty punctual," I say to myself as I glance up at the clock above the door that reads 2:00pm. Moments later, I hear a knock on my office door and I rise from my office chair, make sure I look presentable enough with my favorite Pantera band shirt and my black ripped leggings with my Doc Martens, pushing a few dark curls out of my eyes, walking to the door.

"Hi," Chris stands in the doorway, his dark hair curly and spiky wearing a plain white t-shirt, leather jacket and ripped jeans.

"Hey," I say with a small smile.

"You um... you look really good," He says sweetly with that smirk he always used to give me.

"Thank you," I say as I look down at myself for a moment.

"I uh, brought you some coffee," He says, holding out a cup for me to take.

"Oh, um, thank you," I say and take the cup from him. "Uh... come in," I step aside and gesture for him to sit down on the chair at my desk. He steps inside and I close the door behind him.

"Have a seat," I say as I walk around him and behind my desk and I sit back down and then he does. I take a sip of the coffee he gave me and set it down in front of me. "It's good coffee,"

"Yea, I uh, think I remember how you like it... just milk right?" He says.

"Yea," I say.

There it was.That horrible awkward silence that immediately fills the room making it feel like it is so much smaller than it is. We hadn't talked to each other since Layne... and Tommy punched him which I don't care to reminisce about.

"So um... how are you?" He asks, those familiar blue eyes looking right at me.

"I'm good... good... how are you?" I ask.

"I'm ok," He says. Then the silence ticks by and then he says. "I saw the... the um... magazine article for Guitar One... it was Guitar One right?"

"Uh, yea," I say and take a sip of my coffee secretly loving the fact he saw it.

"It came out really good. You um... you two look happy," He says and I give him a half smile.

"Thanks," I say sweetly.

"I also wanted to say... congrats on your um, marriage. I know I'm a couple of months late on that," He chuckles and I giggle.

"That's ok," I smile.

"It uh, looks like he loves you a lot,"

"He does," I say.

"Well, he better. Damn, he has a mean right hook," Chris chuckles as he touches his jaw where Tommy had punched him all those months ago and I giggle.

"I'm sorry. I mean I know Tommy isn't sorry but I am," I say and Chris laughs.

"It's fine," He chuckles.

We then let some silence creep back in the room and even though he was being sweet, I wanted to know why he wanted to see me so I decided to just get right to it since it seemed like he wasn't going to any time soon.

"So... what's up? Why did you want to see me?" I ask.

"Ok... um, I wanted to see you because I didn't think this would've been justifiable over text, but um... I wanted to apologize," He says shifting in his seat.

"For what?" I ask and take a sip of my coffee. I had a pretty fucking good idea what he was apologizing for but I wanted him to say it completely.

*** "Chris why are you being this way?"

"Why am I this way? You fucking made me this way. I can't even get away from your voice... that fucking annoying voice... why can't you just stop talking - "

"Chris this isn't you. I know this isn't you... it's the pills talking and I know you don't mean it,"

"Oh I fucking mean it,"

"Chris I know you love me - "

"No, no I don't,"

"Chris - "

"I don't love you. I'm done. There's nothing there. There's nothing fucking there anymore get it? There's nothing there. I feel nothing,"

"Chris, I love you - "

"Stop,"

"Chris - ?"

"STOP!"***

I take another sip looking at him as he sits across from me, his arm resting on the arm of the chair, his leg crossed over with his ankle resting on his knee, glancing down at himself, then at me.

"I uh... wanted to say that I'm sorry for how everything happened between us,"

"What do you mean?" I ask. I know exactly what he means but again, I wanted to hear it from him. He then shifts again, sitting up and forward and resting his forearms on his knees, his intense blue eyes looking right into mine.

"I was an asshole. Well probably more than an asshole.. for selling the house the way I did - "

I'll say

"- and I never meant anything by what I said about Tommy. I was just concerned. I didn't want you to get hurt. I get it though, I crossed the line. We aren't married anymore so I know I don't have any right to be concerned for you anymore -"

"Chris - "

" - and I'm sorry for all the things I've said, and for everything that I've done during the last years of our marriage. I wasn't fair to you - "

"Chris - ?"

"No let me... let me say it. The way I hid everything that I was doing from you... all the drugs, all the drinking, lying about it and then blaming you for how horrible I felt inside because I couldn't..." He hesitates for a moment looking away from me but I keep my eyes on him. "I couldn't forgive myself for not being there when... when you -when we lost our little girl... then trying to pressure you into having another after we got back together when I knew you weren't ready... "

I had no idea what to even say. This was not what I thought he came here for at all. I mean I had no idea why he wanted to see me in the first place but I definitely did not see this coming.

"Chris it's... it's ok," I say, not realizing how much I needed to hear that from him.

"Andi, it's really not but..." He trails off looking down at himself again then glances back at me. "You didn't deserve any of that shit from me. I don't ever expect you to forgive me but... I just wanted to tell you that I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry..."

The silence fills the room once more as he looks away from me and down at himself again, then leans back in the chair, his eyes finding mine. It wasn't something I ever thought I would hear from him. I wasn't sure what to say yet. I then clear my throat and take another sip of my coffee.

"Um... can I ask you something?"

"Sure," Chris says.

"You know that interview you did that was for that magazine, uh Harper's Bazzar, back in like I don't know May? I think," I say looking down at my coffee cup.

"I do," He says as his blue eyes focus on me.

"Did you mail me a copy so that I would see what you said in that article to get me upset?"

His brow furrows for a moment and then he says "No... why would I do that? I'm not proud of the things I said in there but I wouldn't throw it in your face about it,"

"Ok," I say and take a sip of my coffee. " I just thought maybe to spite me, you might have sent it to me if um, you were upset about me and Tommy,"

"No Andi it wasn't me," Chris says looking at me. " I mean, I'm not gonna lie and say I wasn't just a little hurt by you and Tommy getting married, but I wouldn't do that,"

"Did you mean what you said in that article? When you said something like you were finally happy now for the first time in your life because you were awake for it?" I ask looking right at him. I could feel my voice hitch for a moment repeating those words he said.

"Andi, I... " He trails off and looks away from me and begins to play with his beard, which he would always do when he was nervous.

"I'm not trying to start an argument or anything, I just want to know if you really meant that. If you really were never happy with me," I say. He glances down at the arm of the chair, still playing with his beard and taking a long pause.

"You were the first girl that I ever truly loved with my entire..." He hesitates for a moment then clears his throat and continues. "... we just had so much bad shit happen to us. It wasn't that I wasn't happy with you, it was that I had spent years drowning myself in alcohol and pills that I was in a haze. I couldn't feel anything because I didn't want to feel anything. I loved you more than I thought I could love anyone ever but I wasn't happy with myself and so I did all of the shit that you aren't supposed to do when you love someone,"

There was a long stretch of silence between us once more as we both looked at each other. It finally feels like after years of fighting, then avoiding each other, then fighting again, we - or really I - I can move past my childish grudge that I've held against him. He then looks away from me and sighs and I could tell just how sorry he really was for everything that has happened.

I rise from my chair and walk around my desk as he watches me and just as I approach him, I gesture for him to stand up and as he does I embrace him in a hug. He hesitates for a second and then I feel his arms around me. He hugs me the same way he always used to. It was familiar and comforting. We stay this way for a few more moments and I close my eyes as he holds me tighter.

"Now Tommy isn't gonna jump out and punch me again is he?" Chris jokes as he continues to hold me.

"No," I laugh.

"He knows I'm here though right?" Chris says.

"Yea he does," I say.

I then slowly pull away from him and as he looks down at me, I look up into his eyes and he reaches out brushing a curl from my face like he used to, then touches my chin with his thumb remembering all of the good times we had together before time and circumstance had pulled us apart.

"Uh, well, I should head out," He says, clearing his throat, dropping his hand from me and glancing down at himself for a moment.

"Oh yea, um... of course," I say shaking my head out of my thoughts, and as I walk him to the door, he turns back to me and says,

"Are we ok?"

"Yea... yea we're ok," I say, surprising myself. I honestly thought I would be angry at him still, that the pain would still linger. I never realized that all I really needed was an apology. A truthful sincere apology.

"Ok, well I guess I will talk to you later? Maybe eventually - and I know not right now but - maybe we can get together as friends... and just catch up?" He says sweetly looking down at me with that cute smirk he would always give me.

"Yea, maybe... sure," I say softly. And with that he gives me a small nod and a wave as we say goodbye to each other, I then close the door to my office, turn and lean against the door for a moment.

I finally got the closure I needed. It was definitely a bittersweet feeling, and it's crazy but all I could think about was how much I'm in love with Tommy. Without even realizing it, tears had started to fall from my eyes. They weren't sad tears, or even happy ones, just emotions I held in for so long that I had finally let free.

Suddenly I'm startled buy the buzzing of my cell phone on my desk and I quickly walk over, pick it up, and see it was a text from Tommy,

TOMMY: What's up babeh!!!

I giggle wiping my tears from my cheeks and text him back with:

ANDI: Nothing, just finishing up here and about to head out the door.

TOMMY: Well get that cute ass out here! Haha! I've got the boys and they are going crazy waiting to see you

ANDI: Ok, On my way

I then grab my keys and my leather jacket sliding my phone into my pocket and as soon as I head out the door my phone buzzes again.

TOMMY: 😛😜😝🤪

"Oh my god Tommy," I laugh to myself looking at my phone and head down to the elevator, finally arriving on the main floor, saying goodbye to Gina and walk out the main doors to see Tommy in his jet black Mercedes Benz convertible, the top down with Brandon and Dylan in the backseat.

"Andi!!!" They both cry happily in their little voices and I swear my heart melted right into a puddle of mush.

"Hey you," I say with a huge smile across my face, immediately leaning over the car and placing a kiss to the top of Brandon's little blonde head.

"Yay dad she kissed me first," Brandon giggles in his little voice as I open the passenger door and slide in.

"Yea, I saw that dude," Tommy laughs and I lean in as Tommy leans over to me pressing his lips to mine lingering just long enough before pulling away and hearing Dylan say something about how I didn't say 'hi' to him yet.

"Hi Dylie," I say in a silly voice through clenched teeth grabbing his little leg and tickling him and he squeals with laughter. As Tommy pulls away from the curb, I slide back into my seat, my body turned to face him.

"So how was it?" Tommy asks as we make our way down the road.

"It was fine... actually it was pretty good," I say.

"He didn't try and turn you against me or anything did he?" Tommy smirks.

"No... no we just cleared the air and um... we're fine. He apologized and that was it," I didn't exactly want to go into every detail of our conversation, that I will hold onto just for me.

"So I don't need to kick his ass or anything?" Tommy says glancing at the rearview mirror seeing Brandon and Dylan playing in the backseat.

"No, you don't need to do that," I giggle as Tommy takes my hand and places sweet soft kisses to the back of it. " - but he totally thought you were gonna jump out from somewhere and punch him again though,"

"Good,"

"Tommy!" I say and he laughs in between his kisses.

#tommy lee fanfic #tommy lee #motley crue fanfiction #chris cornell #grunge crossover #chris cornell fanfiction #motley crue #audioslave #soundgarden

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sisterthecloud · 2 years

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If you like Chris Cornell.

Beautiful and very emotional.

#chris cornell #soundgarden #audioslave #temple of the dog #fanfic #fanfiction

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thekidsfromyestergay · 1 year

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My mom once told me that if tumblr and ao3 had been around in the 90s she probably would've been a Chris Cornell/Eddie Vedder fanfic writer and I think that's beautiful

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zmediaoutlet · 1 year

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happy new year, z! for the fanfic asks, if you like: Do you listen to music while you write? What song have you been playing on loop lately? Is there a fic of yours that broke your heart?

red! welcome back! hope to see you around, you were missed :)

and how nice of you to send in some asks, let's do it--

Do you listen to music while you write?

I do! Like, a lot, and loud. Lately I've been really relying on the spotify daily mixes, particularly my blues and folk mixes, although a little grunge doesn't hurt. I tend to prefer songs I don't know that well, for two reasons: a) I don't want to sing along and get distracted, and b) my superpower, like legit it is something I am so happy my brain does, is that I just flat out don't hear songs the first 2-4 times they're played near me unless they're very good or very annoying, so it becomes a nice vibey aural ocean to float in that actually can't distract me. So then it's just -- taptaptap of the keyboard and hoping that Spotify doesn't decide to throw in some weird twangy shit.

What song have you been playing on loop lately?

Seasons, by Chris Cornell. No idea what the lyrics are but the sound is just right. The sound is just -- so what I want to hear, these days, a little acoustic and a little melancholy and a little sweet. Plus Chris Cornell songs always make me a little sad, now, and that's pretty helpful for the kind of stuff I write.

Is there a fic of yours that broke your heart?

Oh, how much time do we have. Yeah. I make myself cry a lot when I write, lol. 'set theory' hit particularly close to home in the first section, although at least in fiction we have a hope of heaven so it got slightly fixed. For a less intensely personal one, 'passion' also really guts me. I'm just so sad for Sam. Never will I ever write a 'boy king' Sam Winchester fic where he gets to be happy, so. Heartbreak city.

#answers #writing meme #ask meme #thank you for the ask <3 #now i'm listening to seasons again lol

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mookie--jam · 2 years

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A reintroduction

Hi there!

Four years ago I wrote this Eddie Vedder fanfic here on Tumblr. At the time I used the URL mookiejam. It was called Empty Canvas and it told the story of Eddie and Lola.

At the time I was getting a lot of positive comments and enjoyed writing it so much. But I got into a bit of a writer's funk and the fic slowly died down. I deleted the fic and the blog some time ago now and I've really come to regret that decision. The main thing I regret was losing all the amazing asks and comments I got about the fic.

I have been kinda lost these past couple of years and have only been finding my footing again since the beginning of this year. It has motivated me to go back to the things that I really enjoyed doing. That I really loved doing. And my God, how I loved writing that fic...

So four years later, I return to Tumblr, with a somewhat similar URL, with the mission to write again.

Eddie and Lola's story (even though I had so much planned out for it) is not going to be one that I'm going to continue (I mean, never say never, but right now, no). Instead I wanna start a new fic. It's going to be a Chris Cornell/OC and Eddie Vedder/OC fic, intertwining the two story lines. That's all I'm going to say about it at the moment, because I don't have much more to say. I'm working on the first chapter right now, so it will go up in a couple of days I think.

But as for my previous fic... I spent the past couple of days rereading it and I decided that I'm going to post it again. So that will be all of the following posts and then I'll do a masterpost with all of the chapters. I'm only going to post the story up until a certain chapter, because that chapter could've been the end of the fic and the chapters that follow were all leading up to next major plotpoints I never got to because I got in my funk. I'll maybe post the other chapters at another time, but for now the shortened version it is.

So yeah, that's my little reintroduction. Here goes nothing, I guess...

#pearl jam fanfiction #pearl jam fanfic #eddie vedder fanfiction #eddie vedder fanfic #grunge fanfiction #grunge fanfic #grungefic

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belladonnaandulriched · 3 years

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the artist | chapter thirty-one

“I don’t do drugs. I am drugs.” -salvador dali

“Holly?”

Blond Dave's voice rang through my ears. He sounded as though he stood about a mile down a sewer pipe. I opened my eyes a little bit and saw his hazy silhouette standing over me. Hazy in the face of the incoming daylight. His blond hair dangled down from his head and towards my chest.

“Holly?” he called again. His voice came in closer to me as I woke up more and more. My back and my hips really hurt, to where I wondered if I could even move them. I heard a soft groan next to me. I blinked a few times so my vision returned to focus. Dave's face entered my view and I could make out the look on concern riddled in his eyes.

“Holly—hey, are you alright?”

“I—” I cleared my throat and rolled my head to the side a bit. A dull pain emerged at the base of my neck. “—I think so?”

“Well, you're talking to me right now,” he said to me in a gentle voice, “you're definitely alright. How do you feel?”

“My neck hurts,” I told him. “As long as I didn't hit my head—”

“You and Joey were about a few inches from smacking your heads on the curb, but you just so happened to land in the right spot.”

“Where is Joey, anyway?”

He groaned out from the right of me. I rolled my head over for a look at him: it all happened so fast that I have no idea how he managed to land on the ground unscathed. But he groaned in agony as he rolled over onto his back and let himself breathe.

“Fuck—” His eyes closed and his chest heaved from the rush of adrenaline. There was a crack in the crown of his helmet, and I could feel mine was broken as well.

“What the hell happened?” Dave asked me.

“We were—” I shifted my weight on the pavement. “—we were coming down to the garden on that bike. And Joey told Lars and me that he wasn't feeling good.”

“Next thing I know, the front wheel hits a rock, and I lose my balance and go flyin',” Joey filled in for me in a pained voice. “I didn't break anythin', though—just—just—”

“In a lot of pain,” Dave filled in.

“Yeah—” Joey grimaced and lifted himself up on his forearms. I could see a road rash on the outside of his left wrist; he grimaced again and pushed himself into an upright position. He turned his left arm over to look at the rash on his skin and wrinkled his nose.

“Think I sprained my wrist,” he confessed; he pulsated his fingers and he winced at the feeling. “Not the first time that's happened but—fuck.”

It hurt my back to do so, but I lifted myself next to him, while Dave backed away from us to check on Lars and the bike: I looked past Joey to see Lars had landed in a bush on the other side of the street and the bike lay on its side near the storm drain. I tried to sit myself in a cross legged position but a sharp pain surged through my hips, so sharp that I yelped out.

“What?” Joey asked me, concerned. “What happened?”

“You okay, Holly?” Dave called over to me.

I leaned back with my legs stretched out which helped a bit. It didn't hurt when I was laying down but I was in agony if I even so much as sat up next to Joey.

“What happened, Hahlly?” Joey asked me again.

“It hurts to sit up,” I groaned out. I tried to push myself upright and it felt like someone stabbed me in the lower back. I yelped out again and almost thrust myself back down onto the pavement.

“Oh, shit,” said Joey.

“Yeah, that's not good,” Dave replied, “we've gotta get you to the hospital. You could've cracked some vertebrae or your pelvis.” Lars grunted and groaned inside of his helmet as he slithered out of the bush.

“You got yer phone on ya?” Joey asked me.

“Yeah, it's in my jeans pocket—” I told him, and he reached into my front pocket for it. His fingers were gentle even on the other side of the denim: soothing and gentle even in the face of pain. But he took out my phone and opened the lockscreen, where he was faced with the lock number.

“Zero seven two zero six four,” I said to him.

“Interesting choice'a numbers,” he said in a soft voice as he tapped on the screen. The light from the phone shone over his face as he dialed 911 and I could make out the somber look in his eyes. I needed to come clean with him, but I also liked keeping the secret from him. I was seeing Chris as well as seeing him and Lars.

He held the phone up to his ear and waited a second. I peered past him to see Dave helping the disoriented Lars to his feet.

“Uh, yes, my friend an' I were just in a bike accident and she might'a either broke her pelvis or her back,” Joey said in a single breath. He hesitated for a second. “Uh—” He looked over at me with his eyebrows knitted together.

“Where are we? I dunno where we are.”

“We're by the garden in Tacoma,” I told him.

“We're just outside of Tacoma,” Dave called out.

“Just outside'a Tacoma,” Joey told them. He then turned to me.

“Where exactly?”

“I don't know,” I confessed to him.

“You've lived here yer whole life, you dunno where you are,” he cracked. The person on the other end said something, then he returned to me. “Y'know where the Five freeway is from here?”

I shook my head.

“No.” The person said something. He returned to me.

“The five oh nine?” I shook my head.

“No.” The person said something. He returned to me.

“The Puget Sound?” I shook my head.

“No.”

“Joey!” Dave called out.

“Wait up—” He lowered the phone and turned towards him. “What's up?”

“We're just passed the cemetery—the Pacific Coast Highway,” Dave shouted from the end of the street.

“The Pacific Coast Highway just passed a cemetery goin' down to Tacoma,” Joey echoed it. “We're like right in the middle of the street.” He paused. “My name? Joey Bellardini. My friend's name is Hollywood. Yeah, I'm from outta town. Stuck here in th' Northwest without any means'a gettin' home.”

“Which means we didn't even go that far,” I remarked; we were within a mile of the actual garden, and yet I swore I saw neon coming up on the right of us. Unless their post collapse garden had expanded that much or the plants were that bright in the darkness, I swore we were there.

“Okay, we'll be waitin' for ya,” Joey told the person on the other end. “Bring food, too—neither of us had breakfast yet an' why we wiped out is 'cause of that.” He paused. “Okay, thank you.” He hung up and handed me the phone. “Help is on the way.”

“Thank you,” I said to him. I tucked it back into my jeans and that was when Lars stumbled towards us. He pried off the helmet and gasped for air.

“Y'alright?” Joey asked him.

“Holy fuck,” he declared in a broken voice. In the incoming morning light, his skin was washed out and pale from fear.

“Yeah, that was—” I started as I shifted my weight on my elbows: apparently I hurt my shoulders, too, given they ached from the accident. “—that was something.”

“Besides, Dave,” Lars started as he shook his head about to loosen up his hair at the back of his head, “how'd you even get here?”

“I was going back up to the speakeasy to check on you guys and I saw Holly and Joey laying on the ground. Then I saw the bike—”

“Shit, the bike!” I shouted.

“What about it?” Lars asked me.

“It's a cop's bike,” said Joey.

“Yeah, they see it, they'll probably think we stole a cop's bike!” I exclaimed.

“Okay, so what should we do with it?” Lars asked us.

Dave turned his head the patch of grass up the street from us.

“Hang tight,” he told us. He hurried over to he bike and picked it up from the pavement: the crash had dented the body a bit and the front wheel was crooked, but the three of us watched him walk it up to the graveyard on the back wheel. He strode over to the bushes on the outside of the fence and lay the bike down in there. He hurried back to us when the whine of ambulance sirens off in the distance caught my ear.

“If anyone asks, I already took the bike home with me for repair,” Dave told us once he entered earshot.

The medics arrived in their protective masks and they helped me and Joey off of the pavement: I was in such agony that I couldn't even stand up. They lifted me onto a stretcher while Joey and Lars both stayed seat on the back of the ambulance with blankets around their shoulders and cups of hot chocolate in one hand each.

The first thing they did for the three of us was to test us for the virus. Negative across the board. Dave tested negative, too, despite having visited Stone in the hospital.

And apparently we were headed for the same hospital where Stone had checked into: I saw his face in one of the rooms as they led me into the radiology room. A lead apron over me and glasses over my eyes to protect me.

Within time, they had my X-ray. Joey and Lars were in the room next door being checked on as I could hear their accents compliment each other as the nurse showed what had happened to me.

She helped me back onto a stretcher and guided me to a room with a bed. She and another nurse lifted me onto there and hooked me up to a couple of monitors and a bit of pain killers.

“Three patients here,” she announced, “—two male, one female, no clue what their ages are. Both boys are from out of town: one is from upstate New York, and the other is I think German. The New York boy who was driving the bicycle lost consciousness due to hunger and hit a rock and the bike high sided. He extended his left wrist out to break his fall and wound up spraining the ligaments within as well as receiving a rash on the outside. The girl sustained a hairline fracture to her pelvic bone as well as her coccyx—”

“My what?” I asked her.

“Your tailbone.”

“My ass,” I muttered. “I broke my ass.”

“—the second boy didn't receive any injuries, and the vitals of all three are stable. Coronavirus tests came back negative for each of them.”

I was unsure if it was the morphine, but Joey looked a lot softer and sweeter than normal once he entered the room to check on me. His face looked fuller and rosier than normal, and it took me a second to realize they had cleaned up his skin and put his one arm into a sling.

“Just ate a bunch'a ice cream,” he told me as he took a seat to my right. “Gonna get sump'n real here in a second.”

“And—you didn't bring any for me?” I asked him.

“The nurse is comin' back with some,” he assured me.

“Not the worst thing that's happened to me, I guess,” I muttered under my breath. Joey knitted his eyebrows together and set his free hand on his hip.

“Hate that I sprained my wrist an' got a li'l rash here an' my darling artist can't even so much as sit up.”

“You sprained your wrist, Joey,” I pointed out, “you have to use just one hand for a while.”

“I usually use one hand anyways,” he smirked at me.

I rolled my eyes and chuckled at him.

“Is there never a time where you're not thinking of having me do the Artist on you again?” I asked him as I could feel my speech slurring.

“Yeah, when I'm sleepin'.” My eyes blurred with sleep. It was hard to keep them open.

“Them drugs gettin' to ya a bit?” he teased me.

“Uh—”

His brown eyes were big and luminous, much larger than they seemed before. For a second, he turned into Chris as his black curls fanned out from his head and his face appeared much more handsome than normal. His skin glowed with the radiance of the incoming sun. He became the sun as gold and red feathers sprouted from around his head to form a crown. He was as warm as the sun on the Italian Riviera. So much more handsome. So much more gorgeous.

A beautiful man. Too beautiful in fact. Too beautiful for me to want to fuck, either.

“You aren't real,” I said aloud.

“I'm as real as the nose on yer face.” His voice scattered about for a hundred years. Different shapes and colors from all around him. He became something else. He became everything and nothing. Orange spots emerged from the wall behind him to take on the shape and swirl of Jupiter's Great Red Spot.

He raised his free hand to push a lock of the serpentine corkscrews on his head behind his ear and his arm extended out, as skinny as a willow on Christmas. His fingers were long and slender and loaded with spiderwebs. He was becoming so beautiful it was terrifying.

“Hahlly?” That upstate accent was as jovial as the spots on the wall and the ones on my blanket. He leaned in closer to me and those brown eyes became black holes. He resembled a painting, one of those oil paintings that were made down to the detail to where they looked very real. He turned into a painting right before my very eyes.

“This pain yer feelin—it's gonna go away here in a second,” he told me as those dark lips took the form and texture of blood pudding.

“A second?” I asked him.

He turned his head and the hair on the side of his head resembled to ribbons the size of Finger Lakes.

“Get 'er some ice cream,” he told the moth at the door, which came towards me to lay me down flat on my back. I was motionless and still so I let him do it to me. The light in the room turned into a soft haze that swallowed me whole and covered me in a blanket. I closed my eyes and I was met with a dark forest. The trees morphed into fountains that spouted bright red water. Red water for blood. Blood on the pain. Blood on the table. Blood on the tree branches as they nudged me towards the sun on the horizon. The full moon hung behind me with a red and white glow on top of itself.

Joey was the sun. Lars was the moon.

Chris was everything.

Everything and nothing.

Paint with my blood. Paint with the breaks in my bones. Paint with everything.

I woke up to see Chris himself standing over me. His black curls dangled down towards my face; but for a split second, I swore it was Joey. But the morphine allowed me to see the fuzz of a mustache over his top lip.

“I was hoping when you'd awake,” he told me, “I was just about to take Joey and Lars back to the speakeasy.”

“They can't,” I said, “they can't go back. I can't go back—not like this.”

“You guys gotta get back to the speakeasy, though,” he insisted.

“But why, though?”

“Yeah, it's locked, Chris,” Lars told him from across the room.

“Your parents are there and they're kind of freaking out because they missed the art show and they got word that you were in a bike accident.”

The morphine meant nothing at that point. What was I going to say to them about my cracked vertebrae, much less the fact I was seeing three boys at the same time.

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josiebelladonna · 4 years

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the artist | prologue

modern/sci-fi au featuring louder than love era chris, blond dave, black album era lars, spreading the disease era joey, and mother love bone era stone.

let's just say the fact about the pandemic here in the states has gotten me thinking. this was an idea that came to me after my interactions with joey himself on instagram back on thursday: i thought of a girl who does commissions for rock stars, and with a few of them, she goes a little further than you might expect. i also thought ahead, to the time following the pandemic.

yes, this is straight up erotica and it’s going to be a slow burn; let's just say i need to let loose, get down, and make a return to the sensual side of life. for me, there is in fact something sexual about making art. it's digging inside of yourself and finding what pleases you and then bringing it to fruition. it's a vulnerable notion... much like the very act itself.

yes, this will be chris-centric among other things. i have no idea how long this'll be, or where it's going to go but i hope we'll have some fun here! this will be available on wattpad at the end of the week in time for the solstice, and i’m also going to be wrapping up nothing as it seems in the next few weeks so i have something to overlap into once that story is signed and sealed (i’ll be dropping two chapters on friday, so keep yo eyes open): i’m thinking i’ll write the chapters behind closed doors and then post them in bulk there at the end of the week so updates from me are still consistent, but staggered.

in terms of writing, this is inspired by my own life, my endeavors as an artist as well as a sci-fi writer, as well as, for the most part, the louder than love books (@templeoftheslavegarden !!!!) and the billie eilish fic also titled “the artist”. enjoy xoxo

He was a tall lithe gentleman with those lush dark curls strewn over his shoulders as though they were the sides of a mane. The way he moved about on a stage with either that shiny mint green guitar cradled in his hands as though it were a naked woman, or the microphone as though it were about to get away from him was enough for me to pick up a pencil. I wanted to touch and caress his black curls, to put them down on paper. He was what I referred to as "draw-able" in that I always returned to him for inspiration.

I swore that it wasn't a phase—I tried to convince my dad that it wasn't a phase, even when I showed him my first drawing of Chris. I was proud of the drawing, too: it was rough and sketchy, and yet you could tell it was him with those long shoulder length curls behind his back and down over his collar bones. I had used a single pencil to draw him as well.

"Holly, you've gotta do something else with your art," he said to me that first time. "You've got to do some more still life."

I often heard that a few times thereafter, even as I did more studies of Chris singing and in different stances to understand his anatomy a little better. It always struck me as odd that my art wasn't more embraced at home growing up, even though my parents were more than happy to support me in my path to art school. My dad showed me the one school down in Portland. I wanted to stay there in Tacoma, even with Chris and his band based up in Seattle.

At some point, and by that, I mean a few months before I graduated, to work my way around that complaint, I began incorporating more plants into my drawings of him. More roses and more leaves jutting out from his shoulders and from the crown of his head. I kept those drawings to myself, granted I knew if I shared them with the household they wouldn't be seen as serious art.

One time when I strolled into an art shop for some colored pencils and I had my sketchbook tucked underneath my arm, I went in under the power of a secret. I had climbed off the bus before the one outside of my house. I protected my sketchbook from the soft spring misty rain of the Northwest. I had a few dollars in my pocket, money left over from the stimulus money I had scrounged up. Just enough for some new colored pencils for some more botanical type work for my drawings.

I'm the multiracial kid with the kinky coarse black hair inherited by a Native American mama and the pale skin from my half white daddy. It had been a long road to hoe the past few years in the wake of the pandemic, especially for my mom and me. She and I had been dealing with it with a bit more difficulty from my dad, since he was the one with the job, at least at first. Even though I was a few years younger by the time we got our check, I got one for myself and I made sure the money stretched enough to whenever we got another one.

Even with my drawing pad under my arm, and the introduction of my digital drawing tablet, I had days where it felt like I needed to do something a bit more useful.

It was from all of the times I heard my dad's criticisms about my art in the past. Add to this, the uncertainty from living through a global pandemic and social reset made me wonder where we all would go from the second the dust settled. I needed to rest my head so much following even the smallest projects. I had witnessed the older generation pushed to its brink and stragglers such as myself found themselves at square one for so long that it was difficult to know which way to go. I was always told that I needed something feasible, something to keep me safe. But the pandemic showed that nothing was safe.

Even in my spare time, or in the times I took a day off from drawing, I found myself seeking solace in reading about things like science and of course, listening to music. For years, I found myself leaning more towards the harder side of the rock n' roll world: Soundgarden was the first band I had found, but then there came along Nirvana, Pearl Jam, and Alice in Chains. It helped that they hailed from the north of us, so it made sense to me to find them.

But then there was Metallica and Anthrax.

I would sit on the floor of the living room before my stereo with the radio tuned to the modern rock station nearby, and with my earphones in my ears; I would sit there with my drawing pad cradled in my lap and let the music be my master. I came for the scene to the north, but I found my way to the heavy stuff.

I had used a little bit of the stimulus money to buy myself a couple of albums, on part of the recommendation of the chick in the record store of course.

Those swirling powerful but simple drums riddled throughout the Black Album. So simple and yet so strong and with such prowess, perfect for the spine of the music. That strong and exotically beautiful voice from Spreading the Disease. I wanted to touch that voice, to put it and cement it down into something like paper. I was enthralled by the power and prowess of heavy metal.

I scoured the channels of Tumblr to see and study their faces, to see Lars and his long lush brown hair and fuzz about his face, to see Joey and his long beautiful black curls and handsome face, to see them all. And yet I still found my way back to Chris. I still found my way back to him and that unique voice. So deep and full in places and yet unafraid to howl.

And yet I felt so far behind them, a teenage girl from a lower end family and with mixed roots. A girl with parents working so hard that they almost ignore the very craft she was proud of.

I wanted to draw him with roses, complete with the lush red and orange petals. Thus I headed to the little store for some new colored pencils—those good ones that come in all manner of shades of color in a silvery tin. I brought my sketchbook along with me to try them out before I bought them for myself. I already had sketched a portrait of Chris himself but I left him as is so as to fill him out later on.

I stepped into the front of the shop and stripped off my hood. I ran my fingers through my coarse black hair and then unbuttoned my jacket: I looked down at the linoleum floor underneath me. My jeans were falling apart: the waist fitted me a little too well at that point and the hems were tattered. My mom vowed to fix them for me, but when the fabric stores were all closed during the pandemic, it was difficult to find anything that could help us.

I shuffled across the shiny linoleum to the aisle with the colored pencils and the nice paints. I stood before the display case and scanned the tins and boxes before me to find anything that would catch my eye.

I was still adjusting to the world following the pandemic: there was a part of me that wanted to stroke my chin in pensive thought but after hearing all of the talk on not touching your face, a part of me continued to resist that very tidbit. I spotted a box of Prismacolor pencils, seventeen of them to be exact.

Seventeen, and as smooth as butter and right within the budget of twenty dollars in my pocket.

I set my sketchbook down on the shelf so I could open the box and reveal those pencils, and I hoped to see them as sharp and new as I would ever see them. I'm usually easy going on all of my tools just out of the nature of the price range, but I wanted to make the roses on Chris as bold and fiery of red as possible. I took out the scarlet red one and opened the sketchbook for the inside cover and I paid no attention to the fact I held the box, open end sideways. Three pencils slid out from under me.

"For crying out loud," I muttered to myself as I closed the cover and stooped down to fetch them.

"I hope those are nice ones," a voice caught my ear behind me. I turned around to find him looming right there with me. The most stray tendrils of his inky black hair were tousled a bit even as he sprawled over his collar bones and the front of his black raincoat. I stood upright to meet up with his gaze: he towered over me, such that I could make out the sight of the first sprigs of hair sprouting upon the underside of his chin.

"Easy there," he cautioned me, which he accompanied with a raising of his hands.

"It's alright," I assured him, "social distancing hasn't been a thing in quite a while."

"Nah, I don't mean that—I don't want you to drop any more pencils."

"Oh!" I fetched up the pencils I had dropped on the floor and then closed up the box before I drop any more. He grinned at me, and I followed his gaze to the sketchbook perched atop the shelf.

"Is that yours, too?" he asked me.

"Why—yes." I wasn't even flustered and yet I felt it even by his gestures and that gaze from those eyes. He stood so close to me, even with the pandemic behind us. I felt my face growing warm as I took the sketchbook off of the shelf. I forgot I still had it open to that sketched drawing of him; when I took it off of the shelf, I held the drawing of his face right before my chest.

He gasped right as I held it before me.

"Is—Is that me?" he inquiringly asked me in a soft voice.

"Huh?" I clutched at the sketchbook and held the drawing away from him.

"I don't wanna—be rude or intrusive or anything," he swore to me. My face bloomed with warmth. It had been so long since I showed anyone one of my drawings from my sketchbook, much less anyone outside of my family. I whirled around to see the tender expression upon his face: his eyebrows raised a bit and his head bowed enough for me to wonder if he was flirting with me or not. He stuffed his hands into his pockets and sighed through his nose.

I swallowed and then, gingerly, I turned the sketchbook towards him.

He lowered his eyebrows and brought a hand to his mouth as if he was shocked.

"Oh," he breathed, "oh, wow, that's wonderful. I love the roses."

I shrugged.

"I just felt you could use roses," I confessed to him.

"I love it," he admitted as he lowered his hand from his mouth. "I'd love to see it when it's colored in."

"I gotta get some pencils first, though."

"Have at it, girlie." He gestured his open palm towards me as if giving me his blessing. I decided on the Prismacolor pencils—I also didn't see anything else that caught my attention. Within time, I made my way up front to break those twenty dollars even. I kept my sketchbook out in the open and I assured the young peppy clerk that I had already opened it and long paid for it. He lingered near the cash register and eyed the ceramic supplies at the front there. I never thought I would've met him there in that art shop and at such a strange time. I wondered if I could make my rapport with him as I paid for the pencils and awaited the change from the clerk there before me.

He met up with me on the other side with a pensive look on his squarish face. I slipped the pencils and the sketchbook into the plastic bag in hand so as to protect both from the incoming rain. I felt myself blushing again at the sight of him: it didn't help matters that he continued to tower over me.

"What's your name?" he asked me, that pensive look still riddled upon his face.

"Holly. As in Hollywood."

"Hollywood..." He grinned at me. He took out the little burner phone from his jacket pocket: such a sight to see, what with technology the way it had progressed to that point.

"Holly Sherman is my whole name..." My voice trailed off as I watched him open the address book up to a fresh page for a fresh number.

"You want my number, don't you," I teased him.

"Well, yeah. When the drawing's colored in, I wanna see it."

I could not resist that offer, and it was that very moment I knew I would have something on my hands. I would have something on my hands even in the wake of the pandemic.

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yaggerdangs-remedy · 2 years

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I'm trying to finish up my current TOTD/Mookie Blaylock fanfic so I can start writing an OC story and it's proving to be a lot harder than expected.

The story has gone on much longer than I ever anticipated 😂 and I think it's hard to finish it because it's hard to say goodbye to the characters and their story

I might one day write a part 2 for it but idk yet

Anyway if youd like to read it, I'm SGS1966 over on Wattpad and the story is called A Blessing On The Wind. 😽

#fanfic #writing #wattpad #fandom #totd #temple of the dog #pearl jam #stone gossard #mike mccready #jeff ament #eddie vedder #chris cornell #grunge 90s

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afterglow-tommylee · 2 years

Text

Chapter 19. Aftershock

Seattle Washington April 20 2002

"Here, let me..." I say as I see Tommy reach to knock on the door to Jerry's house but I stop him. I figure maybe if he sees me first he won't be as upset. Tommy steps back behind me and I knock, waiting for a few seconds before the door quickly opens and it just happens to be Susan.

"Hey," I sigh with a half smile. "Is it alright if we come back in?"

"Uh, yea," She says and steps aside as I step in first and Tommy follows. "You guys ok?" She asks looking at me and then up at Tommy then back at me.

"Yea, yea we're fine we just um..." I trail off feeling extremely awkward not knowing exactly what to say. I had never been in this position before where there was so much tension and grief all in one room.

"Here, I'll grab you two a towel, you guys are soaked," She says.

"Um, can you get Jerry too?" I say quietly. I figure we should just stay at the door, apologize profusely and make our way out of here. I have no intention of going back in that room with everyone and having them look at me the way they did.

"Sure," She smiles softly and turns to head into another room while Tommy and I stand at the doorway. After a couple of minutes she comes back with a towel for each of us and Jerry following behind her, taking a drag of his cigarette.

"You guys leaving?" He asks as Susan hands us a couple of towels.

"Uh, yea, I think we should," I say and I glance up at Tommy. He dabs his face with the towel, then looks down at himself for a moment.

"I uh, just wanna say I'm sorry. I did not intend for that shit to happen. Especially today like... fuck," Tommy says looking at Jerry, glancing at the living room then back to Jerry, and Jerry just looks at him without saying a word. "I fuckin' love you man and I didn't mean to start shit... I didn't mean to be disrespectful in any way towards you at all - "

"- I know man, It's ok, we're good" Jerry says and grabs Tommy and they embrace each other. "I love you too man," He adds as they continue to embrace each other. After they let each other go, Jerry patting him on the shoulder, I finished drying myself off as best I could and Susan took my towel back.

Tommy then says that he'll wait outside for me while I excuse myself to the washroom, since I needed to fix myself up a bit from the rain. I quickly did my thing, making sure my makeup wasn't running too badly, and fixed my curls, and once I felt like I looked a bit more presentable I headed out of the washroom and suddenly ran into Eddie.

"Oh shit, sorry," I say.

"It's ok," He says with a shy smile. I hadn't seen him in so long he looked so different with the sides of his head shaved and a mohawk. I guess when so much time passes, everyone really does change.

As I go to move past him he stops for a moment and says "I probably shouldn't be saying this, cause I know we haven't really seen each other in years but... ok can I ask you something?"

"Um... sure" I raised my eyebrow at him not knowing what he could really say to me.

"Tommy Lee? Andi... out of anyone that you could have, you chose him?"

"Excuse me?" I say feeling my blood beginning to boil again.

"This isn't you. I know that it's been hard after Chris and everything but... this isn't like you - "

"How the fuck would you know? Were you there? Oh no that's right, you were too busy getting shitfaced with Chris to even bother to know what the fuck it was like - "

"Andi-"

"No, fuck you!" I retort and walk away heading back towards the foyer.

"Andi hey, what's going on?" Kim asks as he stands in the doorway to the living room but I keep walking passed.

"Jerry, I'm so sorry what happened, I'm so incredibly sorry about Layne and you know that, but I need to get out of here," I say quickly trying to not cry in front of everyone.

"You alright?" Jerry asks, confused.

"No," I say.

"What happened -?"

"Nothing, I promise, I just..." I trail off not knowing what to say. I never thought that everyone who I thought were my friends - my family - weren't really at all in the first place. "I love you," I add and reach out as he leans down to embrace me in a hug.

"I love you too sweetie," Jerry says and we hold each other for a few seconds and once I let go I place a kiss on his cheek, then turn and head out the door seeing Tommy on the porch leaning against the brick support post waiting for me. Tommy then gives me a sweet smile and takes a drag of his cigarette but then notices my expression of sadness and anger.

"Babe?" He asks as he reaches for my hand.

"I just want to get the fuck out of here,"

**********

Malibu California April 26 2002

"Hello? Hey hi... yep, speaking..." I answer, and hold my cell phone to my ear as I flip through some papers on my desk in the small spare room that Tommy helped convert into a home office for me.

It had been a few days since everything had happened, Layne passing, the fight, the drama, and the fact that who I thought were my family weren't actually really my family and it fucking broke my heart. I'm just so happy to be back home with Tommy and I can't fucking wait until we are husband and wife.

"Uh huh... yea...yea? Yes! No I'd love to... sure... um yea just send me over the agreements and I'll read them over... Friday?... No, that's no problem at all... of course... no I still have his number... yes... yep that's the one... ok, thank you,"

I take the phone away from my ear and a smile spreads across my face, then I get all excited and start jumping up and down like a crazy person. I had to run and tell Tommy. This is going to be so awesome.

"Tommy!?" I yell as I run out of the office, then down the hallway where all of his gold and platinum records hung on the wall, through the living room and towards the other side to the back of the house.

"Tommy!" I yell again excitedly as I continue down another short hallway and to the door to his studio and open it.

"Tommy!?" I say catching my breath for a second from being so excited and he turns from the control board on his stool startled as I run towards him.

"Jeezus babe - what?" He laughs and I wrap my arms around him and he embraces me laughing.

"I'm working with Dime and Vinny!" I say.

"What?" He says confused with a laugh and I pull away from him, standing in between his legs as he looks up at me with those gorgeous dark eyes.

"I just got signed on to Dime and Vinny's management, they're looking for new management and asked about me, so their rep called me and set everything up and all I gotta do is meet them in Arlington not tomorrow, but Friday - "

" - Whoa babe, slow down," Tommy laughs, placing his hands on my hips.

"I can't, I'm so excited," I say quickly in one complete breath.

"Friday?" He asks.

"Uh huh, Do you wanna come with me?" I ask.

"Uh - "

"You're coming with me, or wait... you don't have the boys this weekend right?" I say.

"No, next weekend," Tommy laughs

"Ok you're coming with me," I say.

"Alright ok, holy shit babe," He laughs and I lean down to him giving a quick kiss on his lips. Then just as I pull away, he reaches up, placing his palms on either side of my face, pulling me back down to him and pressing his lips to mine once more, becoming instantly passionate as his tongue plays with mine.

"Ok, I gotta go and get ready - " I say when I pull away from him but he quickly pulls me right back.

"No, no I don't think so," He chuckles looking up at me then glancing down looking right at my chest.

"Tommy," I laugh.

"What? I'm suddenly getting some inspiration here," He says, still looking at my chest, his hands on my hips and moving up under my loose fitted Ramones tank top.

"Uh huh," I say skeptically, raising my eyebrow at him and he looks up at me with that charming smile.

A few moments of silence go by and his smile slowly fades. He reaches up and brushes a curl out of my eyes and I think he could tell that underneath all of my excitement, I'm still hurting inside.

"You ok baby?" He asks. I just shrug my shoulders and then he says "Talk to me baby, don't you go quiet on me,"

"I'm not sure what I could say, I mean... I'm ok, but I'm not ok. I hate that he's gone. I hate missing him. I hate that everyone... fuck, it doesn't matter," I say and look down at myself.

"It does matter baby, you hate that everyone what?" Tommy says, still looking up at me with those gorgeous dark eyes.

"I hate how everyone kept saying that I changed, that I'm not the same person. Like it's some sort of horrible thing or something. Of course I'm not the same person, I'm not some 18 year old kid anymore, like they all still seem to think I am. Like, everyone else can get older and change but I can't. I have to stay the exact same way, I have to still wallow in my break up and I'm not allowed to fucking move on. Like it's so insane for me to be with you and love you and want to marry you. I fucking love you with every part of my soul- "

"-I fuckin' love you too baby,"

"- and I don't know why I even care what they think - well I don't care what they think but it just really fucking sucks that I thought..." I trail off again feeling sadness and horrible pain bubbling to the surface.

"You thought what baby?"

"I thought they were my family. I thought it didn't matter cause I had relationships with them outside of just being Chris' wife. But now I know that, that's really all I ever was. And it fucking hurts. And it's so stupid that even now, at my age, and after everything I've been through, I feel like a little girl wanting her mom. Wanting her to make everything ok. But she's gone too. Like that's so stupid right?" My voice breaks as I couldn't hold on anymore.

I let out pain and sadness that I had completely forgotten still existed within me. Even though it had been years since I lost my mother, I still missed her.

"No, it's not stupid baby," Tommy says sweetly and comfortingly as he still looks up at me.

"Fuck, this is not how I wanted this conversation to go," I chuckle as I wipe away my tears from my cheeks and he reaches up again to push a curl from my eyes.

"Baby it's ok, I still miss my dad, like a lot. Do you know how much I wish he was here so he could meet you? I'd give anything just to have him back for even just a second," He says looking up at me and I could see the sadness and pain he still carries. It's still so new to him and he's still so lost in his grieving but hides it so well, until he looks at me like that. I then lean down and touch my forehead to his and close my eyes and he moves to place his lips to my forehead.

"Tommy?" I say after a few moments.

"Yes baby?" He says, his voice husky and deep, his forehead now touching mine again.

"Why didn't we meet each other sooner?"

"Cause it wasn't our time yet," He says.

"Ugh, of course you had to bring logic into this," I say and he laughs.

"Fuck, were you working on something? I hope I didn't like, interrupt you with all my sadness and shit," I say, lifting my forehead from his , glancing over at the control board as he continues to look up at me.

"Baby you will never interrupt me in here. You could come in here naked and I will still drop everything for you. In fact, why aren't you naked?" He smiles that sly smile he does when he's being cheeky.

"Tommy," I giggle.

"No seriously, here let me help you," He says and lifts up my shirt and I throw my head back laughing.

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