ain't it good being all alone

he instinctively leaned in as sweets kissed his cheek although the way she brushed off his question bothered him a little. as if she would let no one into the studio with her? “got sick of axel,” he answered the question regardless, shrugging and glancing around the room. “why? not going well today?” wondered parker. everything seemed fine to him — well, except for the visit from some stranger, that is.

sky: i still don't get why we need to have twenty copies of the same magazine all over the studio, but i actually flipped through one today and it's kind of an interesting read

sky: did you know our sophomore album is one of the most highly anticipated alt rock releases of 2018?

sky: and that you're being considered for next month's list of "hottest frontwomen in rock and heavy metal"?

sweets: bc i'm a good girlfriend, that's why.

sweets: did i write those articles? because i am definitely highly anticipating our next album and i do think i'm the hottest frontperson of every band!

parker nearly collided with someone on his way into the studio room he expected sweets to be sharing with her bandmates, but it definitely wasn’t styx or sky he wordlessly stepped aside for. “hey,” he greeted casually, sauntering over towards sweets and leaning against the wall adjacent to where she stood. “who was that?” / @sweetshqs

“My mom thinks she can do it, and I guess I have to support her,” Arden said, eyebrows furrowing. “But, it’s in Australia and it’s hotter than hell down there.” He huffed, knowing they were getting ready to go into summer time. “My mom’s weird. She’s up at 4 am every morning, no matter what.”

“I didn’t know they had farms in Australia... which sounds dumb, I guess, but when I think farms I think of places that actually get a decent amount of rain.” Sweets grimaced, shaking her head. “Your mom is braver than the marines. If someone tries to wake me up before 11am, they better be ready to fight me.”

“I think my mom’s having a mid life crisis or something,” Arden said to the person who was sitting across from him. “She texted me saying that she got a farm, a fucking farm.” His eyes widened as he shook his head. “She can barley keep plant’s alive, how is she going to be able to sustain a full farm?”

“I don’t understand.” She made a face, pushing her food around on her plate. “Farms are... so hard to work. We took field trips to farms all the time when I was growing up, and the farmers would wake up at, like, 5 am, every day, and do stuff. I can barely wake up before 11 am, and even then I still don’t get out of bed until noon.”

   upon arriving at the club, simon checks his front and back pockets — and realizes that he had forgotten to bring his vip key. ❝ hey — ❞ he says, meeting their eyes with an apologetic gaze. ❝ i might have left my key at home. would you mind vouching for me as a plus one ? ❞ he asks.

“left your keys at home or you’re not a member?” sweets raised her eyebrow at simon, clearly eavesdropping on their conversation. “don’t really think we should allow just anyone to walk in here.” sweets didn’t actually care, she thought the ideas of exclusive clubs were dumb, but she always took advantage of being able to hang out somewhere without worrying about anyone taking pictures of her. 

// open starter ! *

The sight of his brand-new ( well, three-week old ) bmw motorcycle with a chiseled line across one of the metal plates instantly shot harvey’s mood from its already valleyed state to a depth of disappointment he seldom felt. “fucker,” he whispered under his breath, his fingers gliding over the damaged section of his vehicle. “who the fuck even thinks keying cars and shit is funny these days?” he chuckled, trying to laugh off the pain he was clearly suffering.

this is cool, thought parker as sweets shone a bluish light around the building’s interior. forget empty — the place was absolutely gutted, lumber bones on full display. were they really still in los angeles? to parker, this almost felt like an entirely different sphere. somewhere emptier, scarier. intrigue rather than fear appeared upon his features, however, adoring smile widening infinitesimally with every passing moment in which they explored. “if ghosts are real…” ( which they are, he believes. ) “…then i guess they’d hang out in places like this.” so maybe it’s foolish of them to be stepping even further into the weary old structure, but parker still tugs sweets along with him. ( he doesn’t remember linking hands yet their fingers are tangled together and the warm, familiar pressure feels nice in contrast to that empty evening chill. ) “i don’t see what one thing has to do with the other,” argued parker tepidly as they shuffled over filthy, creaking floorboards. 

“if dying my hair green wasn’t enough, i doubt getting a tattoo would work. i mean, imagine me walking into a business meeting with green hair, wild.” he nodded his head to her guess before giving her a simple shrug. “something like that. more like he wasn’t to open my studio up to the public because it’ll help with the business or something. like it needs the fucking help. all i know is, it’s my studio and i’m not opening it up to anyone.”

“are you kidding me, i’d want to do work with you. that’s how i’d know i could trust you, but maybe i should figure out less superficial ways to trust someone...” she frowned sympathetically, although she couldn’t necessarily relate to the situation. she was stuck using a public studio, and unless her next album took off she didn’t see herself getting a private studio any time soon. “you tell him. maybe change the locks, if he can’t get in how can he rent it out to people?”

“If you really wanted me to I could tell you that it’s saccharine garbage pandering to mainstream tastes that has no artistic merit and you should scrap the whole fucking thing. Didn’t seem especially constructive though.” Lucky shrugged, huffing slightly as he lent back in his seat. In truth saying that would have made him one of the world’‘s biggest hypocrites. The record that his own band were working on right now seemed to be doing exactly the same thing, no matter how bad of a taste it was leaving in his mouth. Plus the song was genuinely good, even if it wasn’t to his personal tastes. Besides, he’d always at least had an unspoken respect for Better Now, and as far as he was concerned Sweets had a better ear for melody than both. “Alright firstly: fuck you, we don’t do boring or lame.” He huffed again, leaning over to unzip the guitar case that was leaning against his own seat and trying to ignore her invasion of his personal space. “And secondly I don’t know how this is going to sound on an acoustic. It’s… different.” After a strum of the strings to check the tuning and a quick tweak of a few pegs, he tentatively started to play Drown, mumbling the lyrics that had yet to be fully written.

“Listen, if you say that that’s how you actually feel I might have to kick your ass, just because you’re a pretty boy doesn’t mean you get to say whatever you want.” In truth, if that was how he actually felt about her song she might actually scrap the whole thing. She watched him, listening intently to the song. He was right about it being an acoustic, it did make the song sound different, and it definitely was unusual to hear it played that way since she knew of the typical sound that Lucky and his band usually go for. “I like it. I mean, yes, I hope that this isn’t the finished version of it, but I really like what you have so far. I think you have something with this song.” She grinned, unable to come up with anything bad to say, even if it was just to tease, because she genuinely did like the song. Surprisingly, she wasn’t the biggest fan of the kind of music Lucky played, but just because she wasn’t a fan doesn’t mean she couldn’t acknowledge talent, and they had it. 

their calm pace and shuffling footsteps were obviously leading them somewhere, but parker hadn’t really been paying attention when they first set out. now, glancing around a quiet neighborhood full of crumbling old buildings, the curiosity finally arrives. ( good thing, too — he didn’t want to talk about his parents anymore. ) they finally stopped in front of an empty structure, exterior crawling with grime and thick boards nailed over both doors. “cool.” parker grinned, leading now as he shuffled towards the trashcans sweets had pointed out. they didn’t look too stable but that’s never stopped him before. still, he gave one an experimental kick and glanced over at sweets as a huge dent cut into the metal. “i can climb on these and reach a window because you’re too short?” teased parker playfully. sure enough, with only minimal climbing he was able to reach for and pry open a miserably rickety window. he’d actually clambered inside, squeaky wooden floorboards whining beneath his weight. he practically leaped halfway out the window again before even taking a look around, helpful hand extended towards sweets. “need a lift?” he smirked. 

“yah, well you can tell dad to go fuck himself and the company.” his voice was loud and echoed off the building wall he had just entered. what was louder was the force he used to hand up the phone. with a roll of his eyes, he sat down at the nearest table and let out a drawled sigh. “how do i get my parents to disown me. because honestly, i’ve been trying fora while now.” @sweetshqs

“i’d suggest dying your hair ridiculous colors and getting a lot of tattoos, but my mom just thinks they’re cute.” sweets leaned back in her seat, a smirk on her face. “you sound like some shitty tv show where the guy is refusing the family business. is that what’s going on?”

He probably deserved that. He normally did. Being called an asshat was practically a compliment compared to how a lot of people described him. Lucky knew that he was difficult but it was a shtick he’d learned to play up to, because if there was one thing he’d learned it was that the press loved a villain. That meant that a majority of his interactions were at best… frosty.That last barbed remark would ordinarily have been enough to launch him into a tirade, but honestly it just didn’t seem worth it. Instead he simply shot her a glare withering enough to kill all plant life in a five mile radius before sinking back into his seat and listening to her strum out the song. His brows furrowed in thought and he let the silence sit for a moment once she’d finished. “It’s kind of cheesy, but so is every other love song. Not something I’d listen to, but better than lot of the fucking drivel in the industry right now.” He started, leaning forwards on his knees. “Not feeling the key change in the bridge either. Too drastic, too sudden. Kind of kills the whole teenage angst and melancholy vibe you got going on.”

“I think that’s the closest I’ll ever get to you complimenting my music, so I’m not going to push it this time.” She put her guitar down, pleased that she was able to get such high praise as ‘better than a lot of the fucking drivel’ from such a cynical critic. “I’ll keep your notes in mind when I go to the booth.” It was true, as much as they teased and fought, she’d always take any notes as long as they seemed like they’d actually be helpful, and so far Lucky hasn’t let her down. She leaned back in her seat, stretching her legs out and invading his space. “What about you? Have anything super boring and lame to show me that I can give you backhanded compliments on?”

parker only just understood the harry potter reference enough to roll his eyes despite an enduring grin. “i went to boarding school,” he explained, “started when i was eleven, quit going home for the holidays when i was fifteen.” by then he’d realized that…well, that he’d never have what sweets does. back when it still pissed him off he’d use isolation to cope, hence staying at cushy dormitories during holiday breaks. “they weren’t wrong,” parker snorted quietly at the elitist comment, grimacing as he recalled all the pricks he’d known from boarding school. los angeles was practically a field of sheep in comparison to that pit of vipers. “i thought we were going on a trip right now,” he pointed out, glancing over at sweets with a lifted brow, “not that i’d mind taking another one with you sometime.” it did sound nice. he’s never been very interested in skiing, but with sweets it’d undoubtedly be enjoyable to him anyway.

she seemed to have their destination planned before they’d even left the apartment which naturally got parker. he lifted a brow as sweets smirked and they shuffled out of the apartment, easily falling into step beside her. “yeah?” his playful laughter was brief, falling silent once she began telling the story again. clearly sweets had enjoyed herself, wistful tone hinting at nostalgia for something he couldn’t fully comprehend. exciting holidays, fun with family…he’d never had that stuff — not at christmas or ever. “sounds nice,” he commented sincerely, lifting his pensive gaze to find sweets. she was right there beside him, just like always nowadays. “i haven’t seen snow in ages, but i used to love it, too. snowball fights in the courtyard just before everyone went home for winter break was one of my favorite things about going to school.” not that he’d ever liked much else about the whole experience.

“Seriously? This is why you called me?” Lucky asked flatly, face void of emotion aside from the slightest hint of questioning impatience. It wasn’t as though he’d had anything especially important to be doing instead, and when he’d received the call his focus had been elsewhere, but he nonetheless found himself feeling unimpressed. Nothing new there though. That was just his permanent state of being most days.  “You’re lucky I didn’t have to call off rehearsals for this shit.” He said with a quiet sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. In truth he’d probably be looking for any excuse to cancel right now, but there seemed little point in mentioning that. “Just go through whatever the fuck you just said one more time. I lost interest about two sentences in.“

“Seriously, this is why you called me?” Sweets mimicked, giving him a nasally voice. She didn’t understand how she was the one with the reputation of a diva when people like Lucky existed. “Look, I called you over because I wanted to know your thoughts on this song, but if you’re going to be an asshat then I would rather get yelled at by someone who actually has talent.” She rolled her eyes at him, picking up her guitar again to play a song that she had just finished, The Only Exception. “Does it sound too cheesy? I don’t want people to think it’s just your typical love song.”