"remember me", I sing

Basics: 

Name: Oliver Hedley

Pronunciation: oh-lih-ver h-eh-d- lee

Meaning: Oliver comes from Old Norse meaning “ancestor’s descendants.” It also stems from the Latin and French words for “olive” or “olive tree”, respectively.

Birthday: 20 February 1958

Age: 23

Pronouns: He/him

Sexuality: Homosexual

“You actually sure this time or do you wanna scribble in your notebook twelve more times before we can actually run through the damn thing once, top to bottom?” Gully hadn’t meant to slip into full blown jerk, he really hadn’t. His feet tapped endlessly to a beat in his head as he eyed his brother. The drumstick in his hand twirled almost listlessly. “I’m honestly kinda sick of the stop and start. Have you considered that maybe it’s just a rough first draft and not something workable yet? Or are we playing by Ollie is the Leader of the band rules so what he says goes, today?”

✧*ﾟ

“Excuse me?” Oliver let out an indignant scoff. Gully always knew exactly how to rile him up, ever since they were kids. He found himself digging his fingers into his guitar strings a little too hard. 

“You daft or somethin’?” His accent always seemed stronger in moments like this. When he was drunk, or emotional, or in this case - on the verge of starting a fight with his brother. The barely contained frustration and anger was seeping into his voice fast. “You wanna play trash, that it? You know how the creative process works, mate. You don’ like it? I don’ care.”

With one last glare in Gully’s direction, he held his plectrum between his teeth so he had a free hand to tune his guitar. 

“You can be fuckin’ ridiculous,” he muttered around the small piece of plastic. 

Logan couldn’t remember a time in the last six months, or perhaps longer, where he had laughed so much in such a short space of time. Since his parents had passed away, the most anyone had been able to drag out of him was the odd wry smile or smirk of amusement, but Oliver made him chuckle, and when he told him the bands name, genuine laughter burst out of him, possibly frightening a few nearby birds.

“I’m glad they didn’t. That is, hands down, the best band name I have ever heard” he assured him, watching the other man wince and shaking his head. He was now a little surprised he had never heard of them, even in passing. “Good Head… ley”.

He felt his lips dip into a frown, almost a pout, when Oliver let go of his hand but quickly reminded himself that strangers didn’t usually hold hands in the middle of the woods. He ran his now free hand through his hair and pushed backwards as well, leaning up against the nearest tree.

When he winked at him, one single thought floated through his mind before anything else: ‘you’re screwed now, logan’. He felt his heart racing, and was glad that he was propped up against a tree, certain he might literally swoon if he wasn’t careful. “I’m sure if we put our heads together, we can come up with some way…”

✧*ﾟ

Logan’s laugh was bright, and infectious. Oliver found him chuckling along with the other man, smiling widely. He did a sort of half-bow with a flourish as best he could while sitting down. 

“I’ll be happy to let my brothers know we’ve won over another fan with our name alone,” he said.

The words that came out of Logan’s mouth next made Oliver’s mouth dry. His throat bobbed with a hard swallow. The words, themselves, were innocuous enough. But it was the way he’d said it, the context...

Oliver was young, but he wasn’t inexperienced - nor was he stupid. Logan was being flirtatious. It was bold of him, really, considering they’d just met and that they were out in the open. Though they seemed to be...very alone in the forest.

Emboldened by this fact, Oliver decided to give as good as he got.

“What usually happens next in the fairytales?” Oliver felt a cheeky smile curling up the corners of his mouth, “The knight gets a kiss from the damsel for his troubles? Sadly I don’t have my guitar here, else I’d serenade you. Unless...” he raised his eyebrows and pulled a face as if to silently say, ‘who knows? you might get lucky.’ 

who: Logan ( @xavecamour )

Ah, Valentine’s Day. A day to spend way too much money on commercialized rubbish and chocolates to spoil your loved ones with. An excuse to buy the ugliest teddy bears and put them on your brothers’ pillows so that it would be what they woke up to. 

Oliver loved Valentine’s Day - even if he was currently single. This Valentine’s was even proving itself to be better than most; he’d opened the front door that morning to find a bouquet on his doorstep. After staring at it for a moment, surprised, he’d picked it up tentatively to read the note. Sometimes, an odd fan or two would find out where they were living and be really weird about it - so Oliver was always wary. This seemed to be a Valentine’s gift, however, and it was addressed to him. The note said that it was from his knight in shining armour. 

When Oliver had read the words, he’d smiled so hard his cheeks ached. His heart was still doing little somersaults in his chest just thinking about it. So, he did what any man would do - he called Logan and asked the man out on a date.

Well, not out. He’d invited Logan to his place for wine and (the idea came from a sudden burst of inspiration) baking together. He hoped the man would prefer a quiet night in. It was the best Oliver could offer him right now. 

He was just finishing up his charcuterie board when the doorbell rang. He wiped his hands on a dish towel before tossing it rather haphazardly aside and hurrying downstairs. He stopped at the front door, took a deep breath and straightened his shirt - then opened the door with a smile. 

“Hi,” he said smoothly. “Welcome to my home. Do come in.” 

who: Dex ( @dexter-bennett​ )

Oliver felt sweaty and disgusting and bone-tired - in the best possible way. He collapsed onto the dingy couch of their small room backstage and let out a content sigh. 

“That was a good one, boys!” he announced, to nobody in particular. Gully and River had yet to return to the dressing room. “Now. Time for me to have a much-deserved power nap.” He tilted his head back and closed his eyes.

A moment later, he felt the couch dip next to him with the weight of another person. Cracking open an eye, he was surprised to see that it wasn’t one of his brothers next to him - but rather, Dexter. Who was...glaring at him, for some unknown reason.

“Can I help you?” Oliver asked, conversationally. He leaned over to grab some peanuts out of a bowl on the coffee table, and popped some of them into his mouth as he spoke. He grimaced - they were wasabi flavour. He hated spicy food. 

“You were phenomenal tonight, by the way. When my microphone died and you got it working in under five seconds - spectacular.”

He chuckled at the other man’s words. The dry sense of humour was certain more entertaining than that of the idiot he had been set up on a blind date with. Perhaps this day wouldn’t be a total loss to his time. 

“You should be. I don’t just bring anyone to the woods, you know?” he half teased, using his foot to kick up some of the dirt and leaves underneath his feet. It had been a few years since he had returned, but it felt like stepping back in time; comfortable. 

“It’s nice to meet you Oliver Hedley” he smirked, giving the other man’s hand a brief squeeze as they shook. He was sure he recognised the last name at least, perhaps from school, but he couldn’t place him. “I guess I must have been living under a rock then, because I would definitely remember a face like yours if I’d seen it before”.

“You’re in a band” he repeated, knowing now why he hadn’t recognised him. Ethan would; but Logan had never been the musical one of the family. He would need to speak to his brother soon. “Wow, that’s- impressive. What’s the band name?”

“So what you’re saying is that I saved you from an afternoon of being mobbed and possibly trampled by adoring, starry eyed fans?“ 

✧*ﾟ

The man’s offhanded compliment about Oliver’s face had said face turning a shade of pink. Oliver let out a breathless chuckle as he blushed, running his free hand through his hair. He couldn’t remember the last time a man had gotten him so flustered. 

“It’s Good Head...ley.” he winced a little as he said it, “The name started as a joke, but it sort of just stuck. I could never convince my brothers to change it.” 

He realised that he hadn’t yet let go of Logan’s hand. He cleared his throat awkwardly and released it, taking half a step back. He found a good-sized boulder to take a seat on and got comfortable, crossing one leg over the other.

“You did, in fact! How will I ever repay you,” he paused to shoot a wink in Logan’s direction, “my knight in shining armour?” 

who: Gully ( @xkilljxy )

“No, no - no!” Oliver shook his head and set his guitar down with an air of frustration, “This isn’t sounding the way I want it to.” 

They’d been working on this new song for hours, and still weren’t getting anywhere. Oliver was on the brink of a full-blown artistic meltdown. 

He leaned forward to scribble something on the pages scattered across the coffee table. A changed note here, a repeated verse there, and an adjustment to the bridge - finally, he leaned back to examine his changes, and nodded. 

“There. Better,” he said. Reaching for his guitar, he gestured for Gully to continue, “From the top, then!” 

who: Ivelisse ( @of-beasts-and-blood ) 

alochol consumption TW

reference to / implied homophobia TW

“Unhand the rodent,” Tristan demanded the second he saw someone holding the exact rat his cat had been circling the entire time they were in the store. With a straight back and his version of a polite smile, he stepped closer to the other patron, reaching out his hand expectantly.

“My cat saw it first. And he wants it.” Like on command Jupiter, a beautiful grey tomcat, sat down in front of Oliver and gently placed a paw on his shoe. Looking up, the cat gave his sweetest meow for the man who was holding the tasty treat he had picked out for himself.

✧*ﾟ

Oliver whirled around to face the man, opening his mouth to protest. His gape soon became one of horror as Tristan explained what he needed the rat for. Oliver let out a sound of indignation when the cat leapt in front of him. 

“Absolutely not!” he exclaimed, taking a step back and protectively cupping his hand over the rat to shield her. 

“Keep that -”  he pointed to the cat at his feet and scowled, “that demon away from Duchess Stilton,” 

Had he named the rat within seconds of meeting her? Yes. Was he perhaps forming an unhealthy attachment to it? Certainly not. 

“You,” he addressed the cat, “are beautiful, and I respect you, but please get off my foot and find something else for dinner.” 

baptiste was in desperate need of a new tub. the one that he was swimming in now was hardly held together with magic and tape. it couldn’t hurt to pick him up a few treats too. it had been a good week of work. there was enough to spare this time. echo was browsing the different treats on the shelf and holding her tub to the hip when oliver’s voice cut through the ambient shop noise as if he was standing right over her shoulder. she turned around on her heel, not noticing the rat in his hands. both eyebrows furrowed together and her lip pulled up with disgust. “excuse me?”

✧*ﾟ 

Oliver whirled around to face the woman, alarmed. He opened and closed his mouth uselessly for a moment, unsure as to why she seemed so agitated with him - when realisation dawned across his features.

“Oh! Oh, you thought I was talking to you,” he had to laugh, though not unkindly, “No, my dear, I was speaking to the rat.” He held up the creature in his hands for her to see. 

“I’ve become quite enamoured with her,” he explained, gently rubbing the rat’s head, between her cute little ears.

“i’m your favorite drummer?” ethan asked with a raised brow, only after a brief pause while he eyed down the books oliver had put back in place, half-convinced they’d fall right back over. not that he didn’t have faith in oliver’s spellwork, but moreso that he didn’t have faith in the books. they got up to some shit.

he shrugged, a small but polite smile on his face. “i’m good. ‘ve been busy with the station and stuff.” and stuff. there was a lot of ‘stuff,’ wasn’t there, now that he was sitting on the ‘how are you’ question for a second. fuck. he normally didn’t have this much stuff. things were weird. “what about you? you, uh, you find a good book?”

✧*ﾟ

“Yeah, Gully is a wanker. He only ranks as my second favourite drummer, maybe even third.” Oliver said conversationally, examining his nails. 

He and Ethan hadn’t spoken much in the years they’d known each other. Oliver half-wondered if these were the most words they’d ever exchanged. He realised that, in fact, he barely knew anything about the other man. 

“Ah, speaking of the wanker. I’ve been trying to find this book Gully’s been wanting for ages, but,” he gestured around them, to the shop at large, “I’ve gotten a little lost in a sea of tomes.” 

River smacks the other’s feet once more, pushing them away the best he can. “It might be so, but I’m awake and you know I never go back to sleep, so you’re stuck with me annoying the shit outta you until you do as I say,” River replied, as if it was a completely logical sentence. 

He lets out a laugh, shaking his head and only slightly aware that the third in their trio was still asleep. He wasn’t going to lower his voice for Gully though. “If you think I’m cooking anything you are sorely mistaken. You’re free to destroy the kitchen as much as you please, though.”

✧*ﾟ

“You wanker,” Oliver says, but there’s no heat behind it. He yawns and moves to get off of the couch, scratching at his stomach beneath his shirt. 

“Coffee, food, and then practice,” he informs his brother, “We need to get those new songs studio-ready.” 

Their label was putting pressure on them to get their first album out. As it currently stood, they only had an EP. Oliver stayed up many nights worrying over the album, on the verge of tearing his own hair out.

He tried not to let his brothers pick up on his stress, if he could help it. But he was sure it was starting to become obvious. 

“i know, i’m a fuckin’ delight.” gods, he loved getting under oliver’s skin and seeing that vein on his forehead pop out. “cute jazz hands. did you practice those in the mirror?” he strummed the guitar with the sole intention of being an annoying little prat, knowing the amp was turned up loudly and the closer oliver got, the worse the ringing in his ears would be. “did your huge ass ego inflate your head too much? is your ability to read impaired?” he nodded towards the chalk board hanging over the door. the one that had his name spelled out clear as day. “studio’s already booked, mate. it’s mine for the day. so maybe you should be the one to,” he strummed his guitar again to match the energy of those jazz hands, “fuck off.”

✧*ﾟ

Oliver stalked over to where the amp was plugged in and unceremoniously yanked the cord. The sound of Lorenzo’s guitar died immediately. 

“That can’t be right,” he glanced up at the chalk board. Sure enough - clear as day, the name written there was that of his rival’s. He huffed through his nose, irritated. 

“I phoned the studio a week ago and booked. They must have forgotten,” he muttered, placing his hands on his hips and shaking his head to himself, “Sure, give the studio to golden boy Lorenzo the second he asks for it - fuck Oliver, right?” 

tig rolled cautiously through the bookstore. the milling readers paid her no mind as she ducked into the back corner. she wasn’t sure what book she needed, but something had told her to enter the store so here she was. the thudding of collapsing books next to her elicited a little gasp. she rolled back a step and looked up.

the pile of books on the ground twisted and turned much like her twigs and stones. they had a strange pattern that shifted ever so slightly when oliver tossed another book down onto the mix. she tilted her head to the side. her vision was fixed a little further than what she was seeing.

“you should drink extra water this week.” she said somewhat vaguely and smiled. tig rolled forward and started to help pick up the mess. she glanced back up. “so why are you throwing books on the ground?”

✧*ﾟ

The woman had an aura about her that Oliver immediately found intriguing - even comforting, in its own sort of way. When she told him he needed to drink more water, like some sort of Oracle prophesying that his vocal folds were on the verge of collapsing from too much singing and too little hydration - he simply didn’t question it. He just hummed thoughtfully and nodded. 

“Well, my dear, book-throwing is really all the rage nowadays,” he said, with the confidence of a man who’d been caught doing something stupid. He slipped his wand out of his sleeve and waved it in the direction of the mess. The books were stacked back on the table a moment later, as if nothing had ever happened.

“Have we met?” he asked her, “I believe I’d have remembered a beauty such as yourself.” 

The cursing coming from the other man as he apparated them with very little warning almost made Logan chuckle, but he was busy ensuring that they landed safely and didn’t topple over on the rough, uneven forest floor. Feet touching the ground, he felt a twinge of disappointment as the other man stepped away from him, though he eyed him carefully as he hunched over, hoping that he was not about to hurl. He’d seen worse reactions to apparition, but even as an instructor with six years behind him, he had yet to get used to the sight. 

“You good?” he asked, concern slipping into his tone as his hand reached out to pat the man’s shoulder, before he thought better of it and quickly retracted his hand, closing his fist. He ran his other hand quickly through his hair and glanced around them. “Unless wild growing trees, birds and bunny rabbits are your idea of torture. Are torture chambers something that occur often in your world?” he asked, his lips twitching as he teased.

He opened his mouth again to respond, before snapping it shut, a sudden thought dawning on him. Had he just… kidnapped a stranger? No, surely not. He had wanted to hide somewhere so Logan had taken him somewhere to hide, though a small voice reasoned that he could have just taken him out of the alley, and into a different one. He hadn’t needed to take him to a forest. Oh fuck.

“It’s a place I used to hide as a kid. My family home isn’t far from here. You said you needed a place to hide and this, apparently, was the first place my mind came up with” he explained, hoping that would suffice. “So, am I going to get that explanation now? What were you running from?”

“I’m Logan, by the way” he added, closing the distance between them again, something he appeared unable to not do, and holding out his hand. 

✧*ﾟ

When Logan patted his shoulder, Oliver felt something akin to an electric current run through him from the point of contact. He brushed the thought off and tried to focus on the conversation. 

“I’ve not had the pleasure of being taken to any torture chambers yet, no,” he said dryly. He picked more imaginary lint off his shirt as Logan continued to speak, glancing up to meet the other man’s gaze with his own every so often. He felt his lips quirk up into an amused smile once he was done.

“Now that I know the backstory behind this place, I have to say... I’m honoured.” 

“I’m Oliver Hedley,” he replied, shaking Logan’s hand. Again, there was that feeling. He suppressed a shudder. “If that’s not explanation enough, well, I’ll have to ask if you’ve been living under a rock.”

People not recognising him was a rare occurrence, but it did happen every so often. He gestured at his face, giving Logan a minute to try and realise who he was - how famous he was - before sighing and giving up.

“I’m in a band,” he explained, “I was just running away from some fans when you...caught me.”

“it’s not beside the point, it’s exactly the point that I’m making. if they’re going to make me a dodgy headline, why couldn’t it at least be a good headline?” zina asked. her face was scrunched up disapprovingly. it wasn’t a very good picture either. of course not.

she glanced over at oliver. maybe it was just the exposure during her childhood, zina’s mother had many type of men in her life, but she couldn’t quite understand how anyone could look at that man and not immediately understand that he was not playing ball on this side of the fence? “ai. well, what are you going to do about it? and what the fuck is a bairn? I don’t know this word.” she asked.

zina read over the little blurb of words again. it felt like there was something familiar eating at the pit of her stomach. insecurity. “they’re always so shocked about me.” she rolled her eyes. “annoying.”

✧*ﾟ 

 “A bairn? You know - a wain? A child, a kid - whatever you prefer to call it,” he waved a hand dismissively, then brought said hand towards his face to slide his palm down it. He let out a groan for good measure.

His ears pricked with what Zina said next. He bolted up in his seat, suddenly sitting ram-rod straight and reaching for her hands. His demeanour had shifted in an instant.

“Now darling, don’t misunderstand me,” his gaze met hers, imploring, “I’d be the luckiest man in the world were we really together. In fact, you deserve better than me.

“If the media wants me to have a girlfriend, I’m glad they chose you - at least,” there was a spark of something in his eyes, a glint of an idea, “You know what? We could have a lot of fun with this. If you’re willing, of course.”