get up, get out

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               “NAH, THAT WAS all you,” he insisted, laughing and leaning with an exaggerated swing when she leaned on him. It wasn’t like he could fall over — even if he was air and she was real, he was still, like, heavier air than she was, or something — but it was just… one of those stupid friend things THEY COULD DO NOW: she could lean on him, he could pretend to fall over from the brunt of her. She could laugh and roll her eyes and poke him in the side if she wanted to, and he could feel the ghost ( hah ) of a tickle. They could, like, do that now, and it was pretty much all he wanted to do. 

“You gotta talk to Luke about that one,” he replied as a reminder. “I’m not awesome-song-writer guy: I’m transposing-songs-in-a-single-afternoon guy. Or, like, need-an-accordion-I’ve-got-two guy.” He laughed, pushing himself back up and looking exactly at the section she was so excited about. Admittedly, it was some of his better work in a sea of pretty decent work: the progression was simple and stripped, but still pretty fresh, he hoped. He still had two decades of music to catch up on before he could be sure that anything he was doing was fresh. “What have you guys been working on, anyway?” He waggled his brows. “Can I get a sneak peek? Luke isn’t usually, like, lock and key about this, but you’ve been keeping him so busy that he hasn’t had time to share what genius level stuff you’ve been cooking up.” 

       ❛ stop that, it was you too! ❜ julie says, laughing as she picks up her own notebook and swats at his arm with it playfully as though to beat the humbleness out of him. you’re one of the most talented people she’s ever met, reggie, stop being so casual about it! her smile widens, sharp and mischievous, and she raises her eyebrows at him teasingly before she speaks again, voice pitched downwards in a joking imitation of reggie’s own. ❛ own your awesomeness, reg. ❜ not to toot her own horn, but she thinks she did a preeeeetty good job. 

@mohlinas; continued:

Well – what kind of question was she supposed to ask, huh? ‘What’s your favorite color?’ ‘How long have you been playing the piano?’ ‘Where do you buy all your sneakers???’ Well – that last one she was actually dying to know the answer to, but shoe shopping wasn’t juicy enough for truth or dare! The stakes were supposed to be high! Like – as high as they were when Julie dared Charlie to walk on her hands while singing an entire Dirty Candy tack!

Love. was. juicy. Love was exciting! Love was mysterious and elusive and if anyone could give Charlie some insight into what the heck the emotion was even supposed to feel like, it was the poetic mind of Julie Molina. Julie’s songs always sounded like she knew exactly what she wanted to say. Like a perfect translation from heart to hand. Charlie wasn’t sure she’d be able to tell if she’d fallen in love if cupid came up and bit her on the ass. Julie, though – if Julie was in love, she’d probably be able to tell right away. She’d probably write the perfect song about it and whoever she was in love with would hear it and fall even deeper in love with her.

So, obviously – Charlie had to know. And she was pretty sure she got her answer before Julie even said a word. Unfortunately for Julie, as distractible as Charlie usually was, she was so taken back by the nonchalant answer that her mind was moving too fast to process the question being thrown right back at her.

“What do you mean you don’t know? You guess? That’s a yes, right? You’re saying yes you have been in love?” Amidst her excitement, Charlie took an uncharacteristically rational pause. “Wait – why are you avoiding my question? Did something happen? Tea, Julie. Tea!”

        aw, darn. she was really hoping charlie would take the bait and answer her question back and forget about her ( frankly very suspicious sounding — she doesn’t blame charlie for jumping on it, honestly ) answer, but ... yeah, that was probably pretty naive of her. if the roles were reversed, she’d definitely be just as curious as charlie is, so she can’t really fault her. it’s just, y’know — the roles aren’t reversed, so now she actually has to answer her. and she doesn’t exactly know the answer.

        or maybe she does. she’s not sure. that’s kiiiind of the whole issue here.

        but either way, it’s not like she can talk about the whole luke situation! seriously, what’s she supposed to say — well, charlie, it’s just that i may or may not be in love with my bandmate! you know, the one who you all think is a hologram from sweden but is actually the ghost of a dead guy who lives in my studio which is obviously a very complicated situation and i don’t really know how to articulate my feelings about it especially now that we can apparently touch after i saved him and the other guys from dying a second time! no big, though!

        — yeah, not gonna do that. 

yearning starters. / accepting.

        but why is her happiness apparently more important than his? this, the ache of pretending and denying and acting like he doesn’t make her so happy she feels like she’s floating, isn’t making luke happy, she can see that much — and for the record, it isn’t making her happy either, so why are they even doing this?

         ( she knows why. she does. but that doesn’t mean she has to like it. that doesn’t mean they have to do it. ) 

         julie glances away as her heart twists, over and over and over and over, in its home in her chest, her fingers curled against her collarbones as if she could reach through and turn it right side out again if she just pressed close enough. her other hand stays laced with his, and the feeling of his hand, solid and there under hers, is almost enough to unravel her heart on its own. 

        her cheeks are still warm from where he’d pressed a kiss to them only minutes before. she wishes she could go back to then, before the conversation had shifted suddenly, turning down a path neither of them could stop and the weight of their actions had pressed its familiar hands to their shoulders once more. they’re playing a dangerous game with this, she knows. there’s no way this isn’t going to hurt in the end, whatever the end ends up being ( and god, is that something she can’t even bear to think about thinking about ). but julie’s had enough hurt to last her a lifetime — she’s tired of hurting and she’s tired of mourning and why should she have to grieve someone who isn’t even gone yet? 

         ❛ i am happy, ❜ she says, finally, her voice laced with a quiet intensity as she finally looks up at luke, the same intensity mirrored in shining eyes. julie lifts their hands, still intertwined, to rest against her chest, and curls the fingers of her other hand across his knuckles with a sad laugh.