Little Jackie McGillis (onefourfive) wrote in forgotten_gods, @ 2010-04-06 13:00:00 |
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Current mood: | contemplative |
Current music: | Matt Nathanson - Come On Get Higher |
Entry tags: | blues |
If I could walk on water, if I could tell you what's next...
Who: Blues [narrative] (mentions of Indie, Classic, Hippie, and Jazz)
What: Musings from an unquiet mind
When: Sometime between dusk and dawn Tuesday
Warnings: Possibly disjointed, writing train of thought
It was a gorgeous night, moonless, the sky crystal clear as Blues paced out front of their van lighting another cigarette as he let his thoughts run wild. What was he doing here? Really. Spending so much time with the kid; it made no sense even to him.
Indie and Blues, two entities that had more in common than either had probably realized until they had swayed into each other's orbit. Blues couldn't remember ever feeling so calm and understood around anyone other than Jazz in a long time, but he couldn't argue what had become apparent even to strangers. He had fallen for Indie, and he wasn't going to deny it anymore.
It wasn't even that he had tried to argue the point, just that for a man who spent so much time putting the emotions of others into words he was shit with voicing his own. He was used to speaking through his songs, the burn of the whiskey easing the words from his throat as he grit his teeth, closed his eyes, and spun concepts into stories that others couldn't tell. Blues was one of the voices of a time long past, and Indie was a scene still growing, and yet glancing over at her smiling face while she slept made him feel like a young man picking up his first guitar.
He hadn't known how to react, at first. The old man and the bright young star; it should have never worked, but it was. She made him remember what it was like to have someone who he could relax in silence with, or make a symphony from a cacophony. When he first knew how deep his feelings went he considered calling Classic, one of the few of his ilk who he could shoot straight with without worrying that his bluntness might prove offensive, to see how it was he knew Hippie was the one. He thought about how happy both seemed when in each others company, how no matter what obstacle came their way they faced it together, their love obvious to all. It hadn't been apparent to him before how much he wanted that, until he found it lying in bed next to him one fine morning.
Neither had voiced their feelings, both just kind of assumed and let it ride. He didn't want to rock the boat, but he knew one day it might just slip out. Could he imagine a life without her? Of course, but it would seem dull in comparison. He had a feeling Jazz already knew, and probably approved, but would others? She came with a family, as did he, but how well could they blend?
Stubbing out his cigarette, he took one last pull from his bottle and shook his head, realizing all he was really worried about was how she would take it. Selfish but true, if others didn't like it they could take a walk.
His mind made up, he head inside and curled up around her on the bed finding peace in the sound of her breathing.