#angstfactory

[Aggie]: Please tell me you're not listening to the radio, right now.

Her entire world was a mess. Disheveled inside and out, hair a mess from her tussle with Lilith, even sporting a darkening bruise to the apple of one cheek, designer dress not only dirty but torn in a few places. She'd realized, there in her car, that she had no one to run to. Sure Jonathan would hold her and console her but he was paid to do that. She didn't have any friends left in Carroll. Holden was gone who knows where, Val justifiably hated her now and here was only one person she could even think of that might give her the time of day. Jesse.

[txt: Jess] I know we aren't great again yet, but you got me thinking after our last "talk".

[txt: Jesse] About our ideas for the ranch. And I think they could still work.

[txt: Jesse] I'm visiting family in OK for a few months, but I'm gonna figue out what I can get moving for it while I'm gone.

[txt: Jesse] Think you could stick around town a little bit longer?

"Hey... I'm gunna be okay... and so are you." Sitting on the bench outside the club, still closed due to the early hour, the pair sat and waited for Sada to show up. Penny was both shocked and kind of nervous about being on such a long drive with her intimidating boss, unsure how any conversation would go all things considered. What she really worried about, though, was Jesse.

asher is nervous. not the usual kind of nervous, either. not opening-day nerves, not first-date nerves, not the jittery excitement before stepping onto a stage. this is something heavier. something that has him pacing the production booth on the second floor like if he keeps moving, the feeling won’t catch up to him. he hasn’t listened to this demo since england. not all the way through and he definitely hasn’t listened to it with someone else in the room. fitz is there, and that should help. fitz makes things easier most of the time. but this doesn’t feel easy. this feels like opening a door he sealed shut with both hands and a prayer.

“so,” asher starts, then stops, ruffling a hand through his hair. “i guess i should tell you the song isn’t mine.” he lets out a breath, trying for a laugh and not quite getting there. “not really.” he keeps pacing for another second, then finally slows near the soundboard. “when i was traveling, i was producing for this band. their frontman, rowan, he was…” asher pauses, throat tightening around the name. he looks down at the floor instead of at fitz. “he was my person.” the words land soft, but they feel enormous. “and he died.”

asher doesn’t look up after that. he can’t. not yet. his fingers tap once against the edge of the console, searching for a rhythm that doesn’t come. “after the funeral, the band found this in his files. just a demo. acoustic guitar, voice note quality, nothing finished.” he swallows. “i didn’t even know it existed.” finally, asher sits down, rolling his chair closer to the laptop like distance from the file might somehow make this easier. it doesn’t. the little audio track sits there on the screen, harmless and devastating.

he glances at fitz then, eyes a little too bright. “it’s basically a love song,” he says quietly. “to me.” saying it out loud still feels impossible. like admitting it makes it more real, and making it more real makes it hurt worse. “but i don’t want to just leave it as this… sad thing i found too late.” his voice shakes a little, but he keeps going. “rowan wrote about hearing me in everything. about being tuned to me.” asher exhales, looking back at the screen. “and i think maybe i want to answer him.” he turns slightly toward fitz, the idea steadier now that he’s finally saying it.

"Oops, dropped your glasses." Which he hadn't, they were still firmly on his face, but she was sure the words accompanied by her pointing would be enough to have him taking a glance at least. "Ahh, made you look." Just like Maverick he was so so much fun to mess with, the bulging of the vein in his forehead a personal accomplishment each and every time. "Look at you all casual and shit. It's cute."

winnie wanted to get the bonfires set up quickly. efficiently, even. not because she had suddenly developed a deep personal respect for event logistics, though that was a very nice thought and one she might use later if anyone asked. no, winnie had a date to get to, and the sooner the beach looked appropriately festive, safe, and fourth-of-july-adjacent, the sooner she could go find her date and pretend she had not spent the entire day thinking about grayson like a woman in a sunscreen commercial. to say she was infatuated would have been polite. winnie darling was full-blown twitterpated. unfortunately, guy boucher had decided to be guy boucher about the whole thing. after royally screwing her over with the meeting notes from the fourth planning session she had missed, winnie had done her absolute best to balance both priorities: civic duty and kissing a very handsome surf shop owner again as soon as humanly possible.