Roaming eyes gaze upon the star-crossed lovers. Blasting rock music is somehow muted by the beating hearts of Goldie and Harry. They drank the toxic potion of lover's spit and swallow their romantic words in attempt to keep their passion stifled. The Orphans don't want to be grouped with the other bands that met their demise at the feet of a charming woman. The Mamas & The Papas. The Beatles. All geniuses torn at their delicate joints as the result of the sweet brains of one woman. One woman in particular that managed to infiltrate their minds and cast her spell. A spell of realness and love.

Goldie and Harry listen to their teeth hit one another's occasionally in the heat of passion. He's experienced. She's inexperienced. But the friction of deep intimacy can turn anyone virginal, simply because such a connection is so rare. A snow leopard in the midst of the Mojave Desert.

Their surroundings are in hyperspeed. Legs moving in a blur. Heads twitching like a game in glitch. Harry and Goldie stand in the middle of chaos, in slow motion. They take in every sense. She tastes the saltiness of his upper lip. He breathes in the sweet smell of her lotion. She hears the perfect percussion of his breath and beating heart. He feels the peach fuzz on her arms stand on end, tickling his fingertips.

An entity plays the piano in the corners of their minds. It plays the perfect melody. It plays the perfect beat. Goldie, caught in the ideal moment, looks into Harry's eyes to finally speak and break the tense silence that has built between them.

"Thank you for catching me..." She pushes his hair behind his ears. She rubs the blush color on the tip of her nose — like a cold elf in the North Pole — against the tip of Harry's.

"You're welcome, Michelle," Harry responds with a quiet laugh. She didn't have to explain her thought process. He knew of the emotions for which she needed to show gratitude. "... My belle."

"Maybe you guys should go talk in the other room," Grimmy interrupts.

"I second that," Matt chimes in, chugging almost an entire beer as a follow-up.

The front door of the concert venue slams shut. The bang of the cheap wood against the hollow metal door frame echoes throughout the packed hall. Andrew's frazzled hair and wrinkled shirt disappear into the front light of the establishment, taking with him a piece of Goldie's childhood.

* * *

It's the day after Harry and Goldie displayed their kiss to the masses. The Orphans have gone through soundcheck. Their clothes, or lack thereof given Harry's bare chest, were picked out late the night before, and Andrew, solemn and in desperate need of reparation, regrets the slaughter of his childhood dreams the night before. A dream in which he sits back on his sectional couch, loosening his tie after a hard day of work and Goldie, his beautiful wife does everything in her power to help comfort him.

He shakes his head, removing him from the daydream that's so quickly slipping between his fingertips. His seat at the venue is hard, and being in the crosshairs of aggressive fans is anything but flattering to him.

The hustle and bustle behind the scenes of a performance entails more than you'd think. Yet Jimmy's voice is a 5-karat diamond. A gem of reason, hard enough to cut through glass and dispel his lessons to anyone willing or unwilling to listen.

"Harry..." Jimmy coughs, tapping his daughter's new friend on the shoulder. By the sound of his voice, he may have sounded unconfident. But in reality, he had been preparing himself for this moment his entire life.

"Yes, sir," Harry responds with the utmost respect. His body shuddered at the aggressive tap of Jimmy's index finger. Never before has Harry felt such a desire to impress someone else. A father. The wisest of the Wise Men presenting his gift to the Messiah.

Jimmy pulls Harry into a quiet corner of the room backstage. "Have you ever had the beauty of innocence cross your mind?"

"W- w- what do you mean?" Harry stands in shock, trying to decode Jimmy's question.

"You're an idle dream, Harry. A dream so idle that it's formed into Goldie's reality. A reality that will turn her into a person that she's dreamt of being since she was in diapers. I can't help but respect what you've taught her but I'm still her dad, Harry."

"I know, sir." Harry's nostrils flare with nerves. What would Jimmy say next? Would he reprimand his wild ways? Would he be distrustful of Harry's true feelings?

"Never fail to remember, she's fallen asleep looking at pictures of you. She stayed up in the wee hours of the night reviewing your songs. Rewrote her article about your band I can't even tell you how many times. She's a true fan but not just that. I've never seen her show so much passion. I think I owe you some appreciation. But at the end of the day... I'm still her father. And I swear on my wife's grave, if you ever hurt her..."

"I would never," Harry nervously fidgets with the many rings on his fingers. "Since I met Goldie... I— I— I mean Michelle. Since I met Michelle, I go out and I perform for her. She's told me she's my biggest fan and I'm certain I'm hers. It'd kill me to disappoint her. She's one of us. She's an Orphan."

Jimmy reluctantly nods in haphazard approval. He's still skeptical of the fact his one and only child is falling for a narcissistic rockstar, but the genuineness of Harry's explanation strangely puts Jimmy at ease.

Harry shakes Jimmy's hands, his furrowed brow focused on the grown man he so wishes to impress. Goldie sits on the sidelines, snapping Polaroids and taking notes about the moment until Harry walks toward the rest of the group.

"Paperback Writer" rings from the vocal cords of the band. Not only Harry, but Mitch, Niall, Matt, Jonesy and Grimmy motion for her to join the huddle before the show. Goldie slinks her arms around the guys', a giant smile stretching across her face. Her short arms struggle to wrap around their shoulders.

"Jimmy, I want to fly!" A 5-year-old Michelle beams up at her dad.

"I'm your father! Call me dad or daddy!" Jimmy lifts his daughter into his arms. She rests her head in the crook in his neck. He grips his hands in her armpits and lifts her as high as he can in the air. She fans her limbs like a starfish and flashes her light blue eyes toward him, framed by golden hair.

"I want to fly like mom, daddy!" Goldie screeches. Her mom performs in the background. She's thrown and lifted. A true ballerina. "Mommy's so beautiful! We'll all fly so high we can go to the moon, right?"

"Mommy and I will take you anywhere you want to go." Jimmy lowers his daughter. She wraps her legs around her dad's waist and admires her mom on stage. Her grace. Her beauty.

"Jimmy?" Goldie asks as the band goes to the stage. "Remember what I would demand when we'd watch mom perform? I want to fly, dad..."

"You have grand wings, my dear. You can go anywhere you want to go. And I'll always be right behind you when you need it." Jimmy kisses her forehead and Goldie exits into the crowd to her assigned seat. A seat next to Andrew. Next to the one person she's been on the outs with. How will she handle their interaction? Should she pretend their argument never happened?

"Seems like it's going to be a good show," Andrew comments as the stage lights brighten. "So many groupies. It's incredible."

"What are you trying to get at, Andrew? All I see are regular fans. Boys. Girls. All the like. So I'm not really sure the point you're trying to make right now." She shifts her knees towards her best friend to engage him more directly.

"He's going to get famous, I'd imagine. He's going to interact with a lot of people, as I'm sure he already has. And when you walk away from all of it, and come home at the end of the day, I'll be here for you, M. Because I know he doesn't really care. If he did, you'd know it already..."

"Hello, ladies and gentleman," Harry's voice echoes from the front of the stage. The crowd screams as the lights dim. The mood of the audience signals the start of the show. Andrew tries to continue his practiced reprimanding but the pulsating bass drum and lights cut him off. And Harry continues. "If there is one reason that we exist, it's to perform for all of you. This tour has been incredible so far, all because of you and my muse. And we still have a LONG way to go. So this first one is for my belle." Harry points directly at Goldie, a devious smile stretched from ear to ear. "ONE, TWO, THREE, FOUR!"

— END OF ACT 2 —

Author's Note: One more act to go... predictions?