tori

the cover was taken by seven when the whole gang went to the city. devyn had just got her license and her parents let them take the minivan to fit everyone LMFAO and arabella stuck her head out the window on the drive home. earlier versions of the ep had seven on the back cover doing the same pose (arabella had taken that photo in return <3), but after the breakup any physical copies printed had the same picture on the front but blurred.

where the heart is

written by: jazzy and seven

the drums on this song YOU KNOW jazzy had a hand in this! she wanted to write a song for the ep and was kinda struggling but seven helped her out :) so this is one of their many co-written songs together <3 this being the opener is so fitting for me because of lines like "6:30 alarm, brush my teeth, and start the car" and "it's time to go home again, that's so boring"

starting off at 6:30 am, early in the morning, starting off this ep with this song just feels fitting to me! and the whole "i hate my town" rite of passage most punk rock bands go through!

favorite lyrics:

"all in all, i've always had the same thoughts riling up my heart // and all in all, i haven't changed a single thing to feel differently"

"my mind's been in a million places, but my body hasn't moved an inch"

"if i could just take a chance, i wouldn't feel so bad // to see past myself, i wouldn't feel so bad"

baby tonight

written by: devyn, arabella

this is just an iris and devyn love song im afraid! i have this VIVID headcanon of devyn coming up to arabella and being like "i wrote some lyrics for a song about iris can you help me out" and arabella IMMEDIATELY being on board! i imagine devyn inviting iris over to her house and the whole band already being there in the garage ready to play this song for her :) it's such a cute lil moment and i like to think whenever they have a gig on or around iris' birthday or their anniversary they play this song! they put this on their first ep because they love devyn and iris and SO DO I!

favorite lyrics:

"she's a diamond in my fucked up world // prettier than the pearls that lay around on her neck // she makes me so fucking SICK!"

"so baby won't you take my life? or maybe you could crush my soul?"

red with love

written by: seven

unrequited love is really something else huh LMFAO i like to think that seven wrote this after him and arabella went to a party and played spin the bottle which resulting in them kissing for the first time (which later on when they're dating arabella doesn't count it as their first kiss because her eyes were open and the kiss was horrendously bad because that's her BEST FRIEND and she CANNOT have feelings for her BEST FRIEND-)

anyways ! i think seven started developing some sort of feelings for arabella after that and this song is the product of a late night writing session on his roof. when he shows it to the band they're like "who the HELL is this about" and arabella just looks at him like she knows and is immediately just like "let's practice it right now!" much to seven's relief.

when they're dating though and they perform this song together i like to think that after the line "you kiss me so sweetly, it gets me high" arabella ALWAYS without fail would kiss seven on the cheek :)

they stop performing this song when seven leaves the band.

favorite lyrics:

"the sunlight through my windowpane illuminates your face // i need you closer and you're not even an inch away"

"when you come home, you call my name // believe me when i say // tomorrow i will love you more than i did yesterday"

"i can't seem to get enough // it makes me sweat, you’re in my head // it turns me red with love"

sleep to dream

written by: arabella, iris

this bitch loves fiona apple idk what to tell you. i imagine that during high school arabella dated the WORST people but that just fueled her writing so she wrote this after one particularly bad boyfriend. iris also helped with the piano composition! i fear these breakup songs will become a pattern for arabella in later works LMFAO

favorite lyrics:

"i tell you how you feel, but you don't care // i say tell me the truth, but you don't dare // you say love is a hell you cannot bare // and i say gimme mine back and then go there, for all i care"

"this mind, this body, and this voice cannot be stifled by your deviant ways // so don't forget what i told you // don't come around, i got my own hell to raise"

where the lines overlap

written by: arabella, rowan

just the first of MANY certified rowanbella classics! rowan came up with the basic chords and arabella wrote the lyrics. this song is just them basically saying we're so happy to be in this band with our friends and we hope that never ever changes and it WON'T… right?

anywayyyy.. this song is an absolute crowd favorite and whenever they play a gig they always play this one last :)

favorite lyrics:

"no one is as lucky as us, we're not at the end but oh, we already won"

the person you were then - sidestep, the vigilante, the sidekick - could have seen herself following through with it. but fear and anger always came rushing back to bring you to your senses.

now, there's a whole lot more to deal with.

the person you are now - retribution, the anarchist, the villain - can't get caught up in this. you're lying to him. constantly. more than you ever did in the past. almost everything you say to him is a lie. 

except for those rare occasions when you let your true feelings slip. that you love him back, despite everything in you telling you not to. what you just told him, and why he's looking at you the way he is right now. as if you're the only thing on this earth that matters to him, his brown eyes lighting up with the adoration you've tried getting adjusted to ever since he found you back at that diner. his eyes are crinkling in the corners, more than they ever did seven years ago. the smile on his face still gives you butterflies, like it did when you first saw it.

there's a beat of silence, the only sound occupying his apartment being the ceiling fan swinging above you both, a futile attempt to cool down the temperature in the infamous los diablos heat.

futile also because your own body feels like it's overheating, sweat accumulating on your forehead, your hands warm and clammy. 

“you love me.”

you roll your eyes. “don't make me repeat it.” even though you want to. until the words don't make sense anymore. until you grow tired of saying it, but part of you knows you never would.

a knowing smile graces his face. you want to hurl. “i won't.”

he holds your hands in his, one of his thumbs rubbing over the jagged edges of a scar you don't remember how you got. there's so many, you gave up trying to.

“i wish i had told you,” he starts, uncharacteristically nervous. “i wish i had told you all those years ago.”

would it have changed anything? a part of you wants to believe it would have. a stupid, stupid part of you wants to believe that.

“it would have made things worse,” you decide, refusing to meet his eyes. “it would have made…”

even now, you can't bring it up. 

the heartbreak incident. jumping from the roof. vaguely hearing screams that you know came from him. your skull cracking against the pavement. being put in an ambulance. being taken to-

he tilts your chin up, taking in your wide eyed expression and your heavy breathing.

“it's okay,” he assures you, and you desperately want to believe that. another stupid part of you.

“it wouldn't have made it worse,” he says, “i was in love with you then, too. i should have told you, bella. i’m sorry i didn't.”

his eyes shine with unshed tears, and it takes everything in you to not respond with tears of your own.

it makes no sense. you've fought him, broken his nose, put him in the hospital. cleaned his blood from your suit, your gloves.

and yet, this makes you feel something. remorse. regret. that foreign feeling of love that you're still trying to understand.

you don't deserve him. you didn't then, and you certainly don't now. 

“it's okay, ricky,” you finally respond. “we didn't know.”

he chuckles. “no,” he pushes a strand of hair away from your face, and you hate how calming it makes you feel, “but now we do, and we have all the time in the world to make up for it.”

time.

how much do you really have left? being here, in this moment, on his couch, inching closer and closer to each other. you almost didn't realize you were doing it.

as his lips meet yours, warm and familiar, you want this moment to last forever.

you know it can't. it won't.

but for now, you'll enjoy it. even when it all inevitably comes crashing down around you.

she sees seven sitting at the table. because, of course, who else would be up at this time of night? his back is to her, but it looks like he’s… writing. or, writing something and then immediately crossing it out.

she almost laughs but stops herself.

he lets out a sigh before running his hands through his hair, and she’s hit with a wave of… deja vu? nostalgia? nausea?

her hands clench at her sides, fingers twitching as she resists the urge to walk over to him and push the strands of hair away from his face, something she used to do so often when they were together. she wonders if he ever thinks about it, when she would tease him for wearing a bandana but was seemingly never able to contain his hair within it.

the overwhelming feeling subsides and she has control over her body again. she walks over to the other end of the table, avoiding seven's intense gaze as she feels him staring at her, doing what feels like trying to burn a hole right through her.

she doesn't say anything as she sits on the couch, getting comfortable as she reopens her notebook. she still feels him staring at her.

she came here to write. seven being here shouldn't be a hindrance, but as she tries and fails for the millionth time to put words on the page, she wonders why it feels this way. she used to be so comfortable in his presence, almost always being joined at the hip. they would always be up at odd hours, trying to figure out lyrics to the new songs they were working on.

together. always together.

she can't succumb to that type of thinking right now. not when he's the closest he's been to her in nearly three years and yet so far away. he put that distance between them, and she understands why, but sometimes she wishes the never ending ocean of separation where he ends and she begins wasn't so wide. she just wishes this wasn't the way things were.

but they are. and for the past three years she's tried coming to terms with that, failing miserably at every turn because as much as she wants to hate him, and a part of her really, really, does, she can't bring herself to commit to it fully. how ironic, she realizes, when giving all of herself to him came as easy to her as breathing.

she shakes her head and puts her focus back to her notebook. she's barely written two lines when she hears his voice.

"aveiro."

she grimaces at the way he says her last name. is that really all she is to him now? he can't even call her arabella? there was once a point in time when all she loved hearing was the sound of her name coming from his lips because she knew it was safe there. safe from the people in her life and on the internet who told her she was too arrogant, too rude, too bitchy to survive in the industry they’re in. but she never cared about that, and neither did seven.

she knows, and she's known for a while now, that she won't ever have that sense of safety again. and maybe that’s why he won't call her that.

"what made you choose me?"

she wants to laugh. three years apart, a dozen songs between them clearly about one another, and that's the question that's eating away at him? she knows it's been bothering him because she can feel the uneasiness coming off him in waves. no matter how hard she tries, she'll never be able to just see him. she'll always see the emotions underneath everything he says and does.

"choose you?" she asks.

"when it came down to it, you chose my band. why?"

she decides it's best to be logical in this situation. he can't get mad about that, can he?

"i just thought it made the most sense. underground wastebasket are unpredictable and volatile, if you haven't noticed."

he makes a face and she realizes that was probably the wrong thing to say. but what does he want her to do? admit that she's still so pathetically in love with him? admit that given the choice, of fucking course she's picking him? she would pick seven over anything and anyone, and despite everything, that'll never change.

"what?" she asks, but it comes out as more of a demand. he’s the one asking stupid questions in the middle of the night. he should be grateful she was coherent enough to give him the response she did, the exhaustion and their close proximity taking a toll on her brain.

"nothing about you makes sense to me, but alright."

it used to, she wants to say. i used to make more sense to you than i did to myself.

she scoffs instead, which makes him grimace. good. "does it really matter who i chose?"

"yes."

he says it so quickly it makes her want to laugh, but the sound dies in her throat. she’d rather die than let him hear a genuine laugh from her.

"i'm just trying to figure out what you’re planning."

it takes her a second to realize he’s being dead serious. "what… i'm planning?"

"this is a competition and i'm not clueless, aveiro."

she’s changing her last name by the end of this tour. she rolls her eyes as far back into her head as they can go before laughing pitifully. "you caught me. i'm currently on a mission to ruin your life.” she reopens her notebook and clicks her pen. ”any big allergies since we last spoke? i have to make sure what to spike your food with."

he glares at her. "you're not funny."

which is seven speak for ‘that was funny, but i hate you so it's not.’ she's getting pretty good at this. at this rate, they'll be back together again in no time.

ha.

“you used to laugh at every fucking thing i said.” she blurts out, sudden anger surging through her.

“and look where that got us,” he replies, not even sparing her a glance as he doodles in his notebook. seriously?

“yeah, my humor definitely explains the stick up your ass and why you left-”

he looks up at her now, barking out a dark laugh, his face full of nothing but contempt for her. “we are not discussing that shit tonight.”

she shrugs. he wants to treat her like a villain, she’ll gladly accept the role. “seems as good a time as any. i can tell chuck to park and we can hash this shit out tonight. because i, for one, am tired-”

“oh, you’re tired? how do you-”

“think you feel?” she scoffs. even now, he's minimizing how she feels because how could she possibly understand. “you’re forgetting that i know you. and don’t fucking interrupt me.”

“i’m not doing this with you. you’re acting like a child-”

“oh, that’s fucking rich-”

they stop talking over each other once they hear the sound of someone clearing their throat. they both turn to look and see avina standing in the doorway looking extremely uncomfortable, rubbing the back of their neck.

arabella realizes that seven wasn’t writing alone after all. he was writing with avina. she doesn’t understand why it hurts the way it does, but it makes her stomach drop and makes her feel stupid all at once.

“um,” avina starts, attempting to break the tension still in the air, “maybe we should-”

“don’t worry, i was just leaving.” arabella interjects, quickly grabbing her things from the table. she wants to look at seven before she leaves, but decides better on it. she doesn’t think she could stomach seeing the all too familiar look of hurt on his face. the look he always wears in her dreams before she snaps awake, sweating and shaking.

she knows she shouldn’t, but her body moves against her wishes and her head swivels to look back at the table. seven’s back is to her and avina has their arm wrapped around his shoulders, comforting him in the aftermath. claiming a job that was once hers.

a rage bubbles up inside of her and before she can think better of it, her mouth starts moving, calling out, “have fun writing another song about me. good luck!”

she quickly climbs into bed so she doesn’t have to hear any kind of response, pulling the curtain closed with as much force as she can muster.

her head is throbbing now, and she groans softly as her face hits the pillow. she feels hollow. arguing with seven when they were friends always made her feel uneasy, and that feeling only amplified when they started dating.

three years later and that same anxiety creeps its way back into her heart and leaves her utterly exhausted, hands shaking, with tears pricking the corners of her eyes. god, she feels pathetic. they're not even through the first night on this bus and she's breaking down over an interaction that she escalated.

she wants to blame this all on seven, but she knows deep down she brought this on herself. when they were together, arabella thought that seven only brought out the best in her. three years later, and she knows he’s capable of bringing out the worst in her too.

her phone buzzes beside her in bed and she checks the notification. it's from rowan.

open up.

she rolls her eyes, wanting to text back that he could just open the curtain on her bunk if he really wanted to talk. but she knows he's doing it so she can hide the fact she's been crying before she faces him.

and she hates that. she fucking hates that he knows how she gets dealing with seven, and yet ignored her feelings so blatantly earlier.

she quickly wipes her eyes before sitting up and pulling back the thin curtain to reveal rowan standing there, if a little awkwardly. he's in his pajamas, hands in his pockets.

“hey,” he starts, not exactly sure what to say. “you... okay?”

he grimaces as soon as the words leave his mouth, and if looks could kill, arabella would have just struck him down.

“right,” he chuckles nervously. “stupid question.”

she feels that rage from before, quietly simmering and now back to boiling, face growing hot. “yeah, a stupid ass question, rowan.”

his eyes widen. “i’m sorry, i-”

“can you just leave me alone?” she interrupts, voice cracking at the end of her question. “i know you're trying to be helpful, but i really don't want to talk to you right now.”

“arabella-”

“no,” she says, tone sharp and laced with venom, “you got what you wanted earlier, and now i’m cashing in my favor. we’ll talk later.”

he looks like he wants to protest, but he sighs instead. “okay.” he gives her one last look before walking back to his own bunk.

she groans in frustration before pulling the curtain back closed again. she's going to have it ripped off and they haven't even been on this bus a full day.

tears prick her eyes again and it takes everything in her to not succumb to how awful she feels.

this is all she's ever wanted. she should be happy to be on tour with her best friends, competing in battle of the bands. making a name for herself. finally achieving her dreams.

so why does she feel so bad? why does the past, it seems like, always come back to haunt her?

she glances at her songwriting notebook again and picks it up, along with her pen. she opens it to the first blank page she can find and quickly starts writing down lyrics, her brain going a million miles a minute.

this tour better be fucking worth it, she thinks to herself as she keeps writing.

it has to be.

for everything she's been through, something has to finally work out in her favor. something to make up for everything she's lost and overcome.

losing sev- just his name passing through her brain is enough to make her eyes clench shut, gripping the microphone stand in front for her tighter.

losing him is the worst pain she's ever felt in her life. how do you go from talking to someone every single day for the past eleven years to suddenly no contact? how does anyone cope with that? she'd really like to know.

it doesn't help that she was so unbelievably in love with him. she never was one to believe in soulmates but no matter how dumb she thought it was, she considered seven to be her's.

a soulmate who now wants nothing to do with you.

she lets out a ragged breath, which prompts someone reaching out to touch her shoulder.

"arabella-" it's rowan, his voice uncharacteristically timid, and it makes her stomach churn. she shrugs his hand off and turns to face him.

"i'm fine," she snaps, wincing at the tone in her voice. he's staring at her pitifully. if she dared to glance at the others they would share the same look.

they were just as much friends with seven as she was. why are they all so fucking concerned for her in particular? a part of her wants to say that if they were so upset about her, they never would have taken that stupid vote in the first place. the vote that ruined everything.

seeing the look on seven's face, the hurt in his eyes, the betrayal-

she can't think about this right now. she's spent the last two weeks trying to move on and fuck if she's about to cry in front of the band over this.

she turns back around, storming toward the exit. as she yanks the door open and slams it behind her, she wonders if anyone will come after her.

they don't.

she can't even get into the car before she's a sobbing mess, hands shaking as she clambers into her vehicle, resting her head against the steering wheel. her hands are balled into tight fists as she considers if punching something would help the pain subside. it didn't help last time.

last time. that night casts an unbearable weight down on her and makes her shoulders shake as she recalls her and seven screaming at each other in drunken rage, both saying things they can never take back. going to a place they could never come back from. when he left she punched a hole in the wall and her hand flares up as a reminder. her bruised knuckles are starting to heal now, and some part of her wishes they weren't. maybe so she could have one last piece of seven to remember him by. just one last trace of the effect he had on her so it didn't feel like the eleven years she spent with him were for nothing.

they can't just be nothing.

right?

that seems to be what they are now- he hasn't talked to her since that night and every day, every hour it feels like she pulls up his contact info out of reflex to tell him something. a joke, a lyric for a song, a text just to tell him she's thinking of him. she always manages to realize what she's doing before she hits send and she doesn't think that will get any easier.

if i'm nothing without you, am i anything at all?

the lyrics she wrote down one night after getting drunk in an attempt to get him out of her brain dance around in her mind again.

she can't remember the person she was before seven. it's not the one who stares back at her now as she wipes her eyes and looks into the rearview mirror.

would she like that person? would they be friends? she never thought about it until now. she never thought she would have to.

how do you move on from someone that was so inexplicably tethered to you? where there was arabella, seven was right there next to her.

she looks across to the passenger seat that seven used to occupy every day and is met with no one there. she sees the grey headrest where a black mop of hair used to lie. she sees the middle console where his fingers used to drum to the beat of whatever was playing through the speakers. she sees the dash where he used to lay his worn out combat boots on.

emptiness eats away at her until all she can do is let out another sob.

some part of her wonders if he even feels a fraction of what she does. he has to. for her own peace of mind, she hopes this has been as hard on him as it has on her.