the road to paradise

“Oh I'm fine, just kinda... you know,” Her hand flapped awkwardly, a vague indicator that loosely translated to ‘suffering from hot mess syndrome but working through it.’ A drink sounded awesome right then. At least she'd have something to focus on with a glass in her hand. “That'd be great, actually. Like a total role reversal. Are you sure you wanna listen to me babble about my shitty guy problems though? Cause lemme tell you they are not all that interesting.”

WHEN — Sometime in the morning. Pick a date, since this is late!

WITH — Dahlia Young ( @dahliayoung ).

Meticulous isn’t exactly a word that can be used to describe Elijah, at least not in terms of his everyday life. In fact, he considers himself to be the complete opposite — loses track of his most important belongings on an embarrassingly frequent basis, needs help from Hattie more than he’s willing to admit in order to ensure all the correct ingredients get measured out for breakfast, can hardly reply to a message in the family group-chat with coherency, so on and so forth. The list’s endless, really. It makes it almost funny, the way his attitude completely shifts as soon as he enters the studio; when he’s here, meticulous might as well be his goddamn middle name. No room for oversight, double-bookings, untuned instruments. That sort of thing. It’s worse when he has new talent, and for what reason? He doesn’t know. Maybe because he wants to impress them. Maybe because the element of the unknown keeps him on his toes — how he’s not quite sure how the day’s gonna go, working with someone he never has before. He wants to control what he can control, if he has to guess. He’s been toying with the wires in the live room for the past ten minutes or so when there’s a quiet knock on the door and his eyes shoot to the time on the wall. Ten o’clock, nearly on the dot — when the day’s client’s supposed to show. He hurriedly completes his frantic organizing and barrels to the front, passing a ‘thank you’ to his employee along the way for letting him know. A smile’s plastered on his face within seconds, and he hopes it doesn’t look as disheveled as he’s come to feel, “Ah, hello! Welcome to the studio — Ms. Young?” He crosses the distance and holds out his hand invitingly for a shake. “Elijah. It’s lovely to finally meet you. I, uh — I’m afraid emails aren’t exactly my strong suit,” he laughs. “In person’s much better. Are you alright? Do you happen to need anything before I take you in?”

“Magical. Hm. Yeah, I think that’s a fair word for it,” he says, a hint of nostalgia threading through his voice. “It’s got this — energy to it, you know? Like the city’s alive in a way that’s hard to describe until you’re there.” His lips twitch slightly at the memories, conveniently blurring the man who’d explored the city beside him for an entire night. “Canals lit up at night, little cafes on every corner, the kind of vibe that makes you want to stay up and see what happens next.”

He pauses, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “For me, Amsterdam was — complicated,” he admits slowly, though he doesn’t elaborate further. “I think it’s one of those places that gives you back what you bring to it. You’ve got an open heart, a sense of adventure?” He gestures loosely, as if casting a spell. “The place’ll feel like magic. But if you’re carrying too much weight on your shoulders, it’ll remind you of that too.” Antonio’s eyes flicker back to hers, the soft spark of her curiosity disarming in its sincerity. “You should go someday. I mean it. I bet you’d find all kinds of inspiration there.”

There’s a beat before he adds, more lightly, “And hey, maybe by the time you go, I’ll have some tips for you on the best places to eat or whatever. Save you the trouble of tourist traps.” The smile he offers is easy now, free of the weight that had briefly settled over him, as if her excitement alone had been enough to pull him out of his head. 

Toni’s explanation of how Amsterdam ended up giving back to its visitors everything that they put into it. What would the city echo back to her when if she ever managed to set foot in it? “You know, when I was a kid, I thought that cities had personalities. Like, they know who you are the second you step into them. And each city tells you something different about yourself.” It was funny to consider when she wasn’t that well-traveled herself. Still, her experiences visiting Chicago and living in New York were enough for Dahlia to back her childhood theory. “Wonder what Amsterdam would say about me.” His encouragement made her smile and shake her head; traveling internationally seemed like a very distant dream. “Yeah, maybe someday,” she nodded, though the idea felt bittersweet. “Funny thing is, Amsterdam’s been on my mind for years but – well, my ex – he went there for an internship and ended up breaking up with me. For the longest time, I couldn’t even think about going because I was terrified of running into him.” Dahlia’s gaze lowered to her hands as she fidgeted with her fingers. “It sounds silly now, but the thought of seeing him and being ignored, or worse, feeling like I didn’t belong in a place he’d made his own…” Her voice was softer, more vulnerable than she had intended. She blinked rapidly, her attention returning to Antonio’s face as if suddenly remembering where she was. “Shit, I’m so sorry, I did not mean to trauma dump on you.”

location: Crave & Co

The bakery was most definitely somewhere she wanted to be, very interested in purchasing a pastry and coffee. Dylan felt like it would most definitely make her life easier and make the day she was about to have full of meetings and stress that much easier to get through. Admiring all the options of pastries in the display case it took her a moment to look in front of her and only to be shocked by the person who was in front of her. "Dahlia?" She questioned as she was shocked at the thought it could be the younger woman standing in front of her. Her time in New York had been made by certain people and although she hadn't done a wonderful job of keeping in contact with everyone, she was not expecting to see not one but now two people she knew from her time living there. "What...It's so good to see you!"

"Hiya, gorgeous!" she greeted Dahlia excitedly, cradling her friend's chin in her hand for a second, "I forget sometimes. I forget that so much time has passed. Since I showed up at your doorstep." Spencer gave a playful wink and scrunched her nose at the brunette before kissing the air beside her cheek. Having spent over two decades completely intertwining their lives, there was hardly ever a beat to miss since the last time and yet, from time to time, she looked over at her friend and she remembered how they were both young and innocent once. Before Spencer taught Dahlia that there was more to makeup than a smokey eye, and that the hurt from the end of an era with Liam would one day heal. Right, Liam. His was a name that sent a a shockwave of anger through her. "So, did you end rendezvousing with Liam, or...?" She tried to tame her emotions, enough at least to pretend like she didn't mind the guy.

The mention of free udon for life had Dahlia standing up to attention. “You’re joking! I live like two blocks from that place. The food is so good!” she gasped, eyes shining bright. She wasn’t the type to take advantage of other people’s kindness but one free meal couldn’t hurt, right? Dahlia observed as the girl made a rather dramatic roll across the hood of her car and stepped closer to remain in earshot. “Don’t say ‘for life’ though unless you mean it! Otherwise, I’ll show up ten years from now demanding my free bowl.” Her gaze drifted down towards the contents of the car – a few cans of Monster and a duffel bag spilling over with clothes – and bit back a comment. She was in no position to be judging the state of anyone else’s car. “I can call my dad for a tow. It won’t cost you anything and you can pick it up somewhere safe,” Dahlia offered before realizing she hadn’t introduced herself properly yet. “I’m Dahlia, by the way. Dahlia Young. My dad owns Young’s Auto Shop.” It was weird to name drop herself like that but it was useful in explaining how exactly she could manage to offer a free tow.

Clearing his throat, he shifts his weight from one foot to the other, aiming for something warmer, something that might make her feel proud of it, as she should. “Hey, no, don’t — don’t cover it up. It’s really cool. I mean it.” And he does; the words are soft but carry a strange finality. “I just think — sometimes I forget that the songs belong to people like you now. Not just me anymore. Or — or any of us,” he adds quickly, alluding to Amethyst as much as he can without naming specific names. He half-smiles, trying to bring himself back to the present, where it’s Dahlia standing in front of him, not memories of someone he’s already let go of.

“And if it’s helped you in any way, then—” His voice hitches, and he forces himself to laugh, an attempt to keep things light. “Well, then I think that song’s done something pretty good with itself, you know?” He’s grateful now, that the song went out into the world and impacted people like her. That’s what it was meant to do, from the moment the words touched notebook paper to the second they played its very last note live. And in any case, it’s probably high time he stops tying himself to everything in the past. Elijah made his choice, after all. He took their memories, their history, buried it all somewhere he clearly doesn’t want to find, and Antonio doesn’t have it in him anymore to keep visiting that graveyard.

Maybe his words are better, on foreign skin. Maybe that’s the way they stop haunting him, when he looks back.

Antonio meets her eyes again, that familiar, easy smile making a slow return. “I’d say you’ve got pretty good taste.” He nods. “Ever been to Amsterdam? Still don’t think there’s any place quite like it.”

“It’s special,” Dahlia began, glancing at Toni hesitantly before continuing her explanation. “When I heard it for the first time, it was like someone pulled out words from my heart that I’d never been able to vocalize. Like someone out there understood something I hadn’t even wrapped my brain around.” Dahlia laughed a little, feeling embarrassed by the intensity of her own words, but if there was anyone who would understand it’d be Antonio. He’d helped create those words, after all. 

Antonio’s smile grew more genuine, and the tension between them gradually eased. She exhaled, feeling her shoulders relax as the topic of conversation shifted ever so slightly. “Amsterdam? God, I wish. I’ve never been out of the country.” Dahlia’s eyes lit up at the thought, curiosity sparking in her eyes and overtaking her initial shyness. “It’s on my bucket list, though. I’ve always wanted to go.” She hesitated, debating asking a question before it tumbled out of her. “What was it like for you? Is it as magical as I’ve imagined or am I overhyping it?”

Dahlia hoped she wasn’t overstepping with the question, but she genuinely wanted to know. She’d gotten to learn a lot about Toni as a musician, but she was just as curious about him as a person.