#lbst

This is my original work. Plagiarism of any sort shall not be tolerated.

EXCERPTS

IV. Levi

Levi is sitting in a bus stop watching people live their lives like 'normal people' and feels sad about how much he's missed out on because of touring and performing. The poet in Levi comes out in this excerpt.

I know stars are actual beings that burn like the sun. But sometimes I like to think what I see is just light from the heavens spilling through holes in the sky. It makes me believe that there’s always light beyond an expanse of darkness and that it creeps out of whatever it is contained in. When silhouettes of pre-fame Levi shadow my persona, this thought makes it seem like maybe I radiate that kind of light too. It makes me believe that there is someone who cares enough to let me have these thoughts; maybe a God.

Here's the sad part. (CW for mention of self-harm)

I should take my parents out to the movies. We should go to our regular restaurants and eat the same meals we used to. I should meet Ruth’s boyfriend—Charles, from college, English Literature student. Mom and Dad have met him several times already, have had dinner together and baked cakes for his family. I still have to say hi in person. I should take Ruth on a long drive and catch up on all the things I wasn’t here to see. I should meet up with friends from high school. Host a party with pizza and beer and stupid games. But before all this, I want to feel like I’m here. I want to feel as present as the child on her father’s back, as the young couple laughing inside the barbeque joint on my right, as the group of teenagers stumbling into the café on the other side. I want to feel as present as the universe with all its flaws; like all other things that burn and break and kill pieces of themselves to stay alive.

Above me, the sky is starless.

V. Noah

This one's short and I'm quite proud of it, so here's the whole thing.

The first boy’s name is Joshua. His friends call him Josh because that’s what friends like them do – give you unremarkable nicknames and act like you’re special to them. You aren’t. I’m calling him Josh in my head and I do not care. I do not care about his order – a large iced coffee. I do not care about the barista messing up his name on the paper cup, the ‘hua’ bleeding down the edge in indigo. I do not care about his hair being fluffy and dark brown, the same colour as his eyes, or him checking his phone every three minutes only to put it down with a heavy face. I do not care that no one texts him. I do not care about the piercing on his left ear or the silver cuff on his left hand or the expensive-looking watch on his right. I do not care about whether or not he wears a silver chain with an angel pendant. I do not care about him looking at the second boy like he’s the only one he’s here for; like he’s in love. I do not care because I know it’s not true. Because I know he’s the boy that dares people to kiss each other at house parties, and the boy multiple girls in the room want to be dared to kiss. He’s the boy who smokes and vapes and takes a different girl to his room every night. He’s the boy who deals drugs and beats innocent kids up because it makes him feel powerful.

But he keeps looking at the second boy—Zach. Zachariah, I guess. Another one of those stupid nicknames. He looks at Zach and his girlfriend and his face crumbles, so he pulls out his phone again to check the time and take a sip of his iced coffee.

But I do not care about Josh or how beautiful he is or how pained he looks.

Why would I?

VI. Levi

Levi watches two girls taking pictures outside an old telephone booth and wants to go in. When he does, he doesn't have anyone to call except home and that makes him feel lonely. (Tbh, I would feel lonely too. You're feelings are valid, love.)

Muddy water splashes dark patches on my jeans. Dirt and vapour mist the glass door. The inside of the booth is suffocating, mosses growing in the corners, water dripping down its walls. The door shuts with a rattled squeak. I take the receiver, put a coin in, and dial the first number that comes to mind – home. Four rings before Mom picks up, one hello before my throat goes dry, another hello before my legs start to shake, one who’s this before I feel like I’m burning, one sorry, wrong number before the call is over.

He knows there's no hope but gives it another go anyway.

I slam the receiver back and lean against the damp wall. It has started drizzling, delicate raindrops loud on the roof. I need to call someone. I want someone to listen to all the things I don’t know how to say. I grab the receiver again. I put another coin in and stare down at the dial. My fingers linger over every digit for longer than it should, but I press none. And then, I press 1. I press 2. I press 2 again. And again. I press 3.

There’s no one to call.

He then runs to the cafe on the other side, where, co-incidentally, Noah happens to be judging people.

VII. Noah

Noah is watching Josh as he exits the cafe and has a 'moment of distress'. But when he looks out the window a second time, he sees someone else.

I look outside again. There’s a telephone booth on the other side, and beside it is her. It can’t be her, but it is. Long, blonde hair flying in the wind, overgrown fringes covering her eyes, blocking her vision. Yet, she’s looking straight at me. She recognizes me. She’s wearing the same floral shirt from that night—little daffodils and lilies printed on black nylon. The ketchup stain on its white peter pan collar is still fresh. It had dripped from the burger we shared inside one of those cabinets under the stairs. This can’t be, but it is.

This can’t be because she’s gone. Isla is gone.

Spoiler: Isla might be the ghost narrator. Not sure if I'll actually have her as a POV character, but I really want to. Let's see how it goes.

And now, Noah sees Levi. They finally meet!

Someone exits the booth. It’s raining heavily and I can’t see his face, but I know him by silhouette. The slight hunch on his back, his stature, and the way he grips his guitar case is all too familiar. But seeing him here has to be another one of those tricks. Because there’s no way it can be him. There’s no way anyone can be anything. There’s no way that I am here after all the things I’ve done.

But when he darts across the street and is closer to the door, I see it clearly. It is him – Levi John Antonio Shires.

VIII. Levi

Don't have a nice excerpt from this chapter, but here's our boys' first conversation with each other.

“Hey there, do you listen to my music?” I ask.

“Yes,” he says, “yeah, I do.”

“What’s your name?”

“Noah,” he says. “Noah Anderson.”

“Lovely! Are you okay, Noah? You seem a bit… confused,” I observe, and he stares out the window before answering my question.

“Yeah.”

I’m not sure if that’s a yes for being alright or being confused.

The level of awkwardness in this is >>>

IX. Noah

Here's Noah being a simp for Levi. That's it.

When hunched on a barstool, Levi Shires is half a heart. It makes you wish you were the other, but you’re not, because half of him is an expanse the whole of you can’t fill. The guitar with him today is his second favourite – an acoustic sent anonymously by a fan, stated in an interview few months ago. Its fragility is a divine ornament between his fingers. They slide over its strings the way you should caress a loved one’s hair. The way I should’ve Isla’s. The way I didn’t.

Then, Noah requests Levi to sing a song and he does.

X. Levi

This chapter is Levi's explanation behind why and how he wrote Wolfpack Whispers, the song Noah requested him to sing. It has four paragraphs and they all starts with the line 'I wrote Wolfpack Whispers sitting on the floor of my bathroom'. This is the last one.

I wrote Wolfpack Whispers sitting on my bathroom floor. All of it. I wrote it and saved it for lonely nights on the tour bus—for when I needed to feel reminded of a space where I could be safe—but an artist is an artist because of their art. Quercitron needed mine. Before studio album one, we sent out my cry to the world. Not many heard the silence in the melody; not many would. But the man in the olive-green shirt—Noah Anderson—has his eyes closed all the while I’m singing. It looks like he’s hiding tears behind them. His fists clench under the table, his fingernails pressing into the inside of his palms. He’s angry, he’s in pain, and he’s listening to me like no one else in the room.

I want to know his story.

XI. Noah

Also Noah being a simp for Levi. This chapter doesn't have as much shareable content, so let's here's the opening line.

Levi says that purring makes a wolf vicious, and I know it’s true.

XII. Levi

In this chapter, Levi finishes his little concert at the cafe and wants to talk to Noah because he looks so sad and confused, but doesn't want to approach him because that would be biased and wrong of an artist. Noah goes to him and they have this conversation.

He says, “Hey. Hi. I wanted to tell you something before you left.”

I want him to tell me why he was so sad, why he was almost crying. I tell him, “Yes, Noah. Tell me.”

“Thank you,” he says, “for accepting my song request.”

I know he’s not going to tell me anything more, but my desperation wants to pull the words out of his throat. Instead, I say, “No problem, Noah. I’m glad you like Wolfpack Whispers.”

“You know, I…” he begins, “I’ve been through some really tough times and your songs have gotten me through it all. Not just Wolfpack Whispers. All of it, you know? I’ve listened to the bridge of this one so many times just to hear how your voice cracks right before you say you’re no lord or no king, and I am no lamb of your violence.”

He stops himself. I wish he didn’t. I wish he would tell me more about it. I wish he would tell me that he understands how it feels, but he doesn’t.

“I’m sorry, I just got a bit carried away,” he chuckles, “but I want you to know that I’m grateful for you and your music. It was fun meeting you today.”

He’s going to walk away. “Thank you, Noah,” I say, “and no, it’s no problem at all.”

He is walking away.

If I let him, I’ll never see him again. I’ll never know how I’ve helped him.

“Noah,” I call, and he turns back to face me. “Can you tell me more?”

XIII. Noah

Last chapter for this update, and yes, this is where the story kicks off. Noah agrees to tell Levi things.

“It’s going to take me a long time. There’s a lot and I’m not sure if it matters.”

“It matters,” he says. “It matters to me. I have time. We can go back to the café and talk. Or we can go wherever you want. But please, please tell me.”

But the café is already shutting on the corner of the street. We both turn at the sound of its shutter being pulled down. He looks at me again and asks, “Noah, will you walk around the city with me?”

“Yes,” I reply.

Well, that's it for this update. We'll have to see what Noah's story is and why Levi wants to know it so badly. I'm sorry if this update felt a bit rushed. I'm starting college tomorrow and I really wanted to get this done before that.

Thank you for reading so far.

Love, Ann.

General Taglist (ask to be +/-)