Songs for the chapter:

Rebel Rebel- David Bowie

Detroit Rock City- KISS

Take On Me- A-ha

{J A X}

"Just sit that shit down and leave it there!"

Vick startled a little. She was used to my sharp tongue, but maybe I was going a little overboard that day. Nothing she did was satisfactory to me, and nothing was going to be.

"Alright already," Vick snapped, tossing the homework I wasn't gonna do anyway onto the table. "You're acting like you've got PMS or something."

Danny gave her an equally as critical glance. "Check your attitude," he said. "Medusa is in town. And the 'brethren'."

It seemed like she suddenly understood. She swallowed hard. "Oh... my bad. Crystal is enough to make anyone turn into a fucking monster."

"It's not her," I said quickly, speaking to my emotion before my mind could shut it off. They all waited for me to continue speaking, but I clamped my mouth shut and refused to say it out loud. Because that would make the feeling real.

"Then what is it?"

I angrily shook my head and stared at the list in front of me.

I closed my eyes for a second and saw dark red hair. Caramel brown skin, deep brown eyes, freckles. I heard her faint giggling, the little sigh she made whenever I licked the skin above her collarbone.

"Jax?"

Twin number one looked at me expectantly, fixing his glasses. "You seem... conflicted?"

I waved him off and refocused my attention on the list. I couldn't let my mind wander. Every time I did, I felt regret begin to overwhelm and consume me.

"Danny already paid a visit to The Captain down on fifth and forty-third. The 'hijos de putas' already repledged their loyalty, and the Clan won't be bothering us anymore. The list is taken care of."

Danny flexed his bruised knuckles with a prideful smile. It quickly dropped when Vick started to speak again.

"But who knows? That Williams is a snake."

Twin 2 looked at her contemptuously. "If you talk about how attractive he is one more time-"

"Relax." She growled defensively. She was already growing tired of being the doormat.

I needed to get my mind off of Red. The night had already fallen and it'd been dark for a while, but I didn't care. Anything was better than looking at the bedroom and wishing she were here to lead me to it by the hand.

"Let's split," I demanded, standing quickly and nodding toward the door.

We were met with unwanted visitors on the way out.

"Well lookie here," proclaimed Tito with his long arms spread wide and a smile on his face. "If it isn't my fuck-up kid brother and his group of hoodrat friends. What are you guys up to on this fine evening?"

Vick's face drained of color. She stepped back toward the house. The others stood around me, just waiting for a response.

I looked over both shoulders, and then back at him. "You talking to me?"

Tito's smile never faltered. He stood leaning against the opened car door of Joe's Bentley, slightly swaying back and forth on it's hinge. Who else was in the parked car? I had no clue.

"Who else would I be talking to?"

I shrugged. "I dunno, it's just a little hard to take you seriously with that ridiculous-ass bell bottomed piece of shit you're wearing blocking my view."

Then his smile turned into a pained grimace.

"Nice to see you too, brother."

I wanted to tell him he was no brother of mine. I would not claim one who chose a woman like Crystal over his flesh and blood, one who valued indulgences and luxury more than he valued family and history. I wanted to tell him he was nothing.

Instead I simply strode across the lawn, motioning for the others to follow me.

"We're gonna be around, Michael," Tito called after me with another million-dollar smile. "Can't avoid us for long."

"Try me," I muttered sourly.

{M A U R A}

"Who was she?" I said softly.

Jon took another swig of beer and let his head rest against his bed frame. "Who?"

I let my fingers trace shapes in the wetness cloaking my beer bottle. I never liked the taste of the stuff, I could only tolerate it when coupled with greasy pepperoni and cheese.

"She. Your fire, your mojo. Your reason to sing."

Jon looked at me hard. His lips parted but he didn't say anything for a while, bashfully averting his gaze to the empty pizza box lying on the ground between us.

"You know me too well," he smiled.

"Well?"

He let out a long sigh. "Dorothea."

I cocked my head. "That's a strange name..."

"She was strange," he said agreeably, nodding with a tiny little smile on his face. A reminiscing smile. "She was something, that's alright. She was my little Runaway."

Such conflicted hapiness radiated from him, his chest heaved and his eyes were glazed. I didn't like it. I looked up at the stack of records on the turntable, realizing I didn't wanna hear about any of Jon's past girlfriends.

"She was beautiful," he continued, looking at me. "I mean... not like you, but kinda close."

I grinned involuntarily.

"And she was something. Grew up knowin' her, what a classic Jersey girl. She made me wanna be the best I could, so fiesty, independent, such a ball-buster. I love that kinda thing, I have no idea why. Just turns me on like a lightbulb."

"No kidding," I chuckled. "And she made you a rockstar?"

"Yes and no," he said thoughtfully, drinking more beer. "She didn't take me seriously. I felt like I was doing everything just to prove her wrong, and when things went south... maybe I blamed her. Never supportin' me, never being there."

His jaw ground.

I didn't know what to say.

"She ain't like you, Freckles."

"What, a ginger?"

"Well yeah," he laughed. "She's a brunette. But that's not what I meant. I meant-"

"I've never heard you play."

I sat up straight with my hands on the carpet, nearly tossing my beer bottle to the side. "Here I am trying to sell you to the world with all this music, but I've never heard you strum a single note. I need to."

He got up and solemnly went to the closet and slid it open, revealing a hilarious amount of muscle tees and tight black pants hung up neatly. He reached inside and pulled out a sleek black acoustic guitar, all shiny from extensive oiling and careful cleaning.

"My precious baby," he said, lovingly caressing the guitar's neck and sitting close beside me on the ground again. "A Takamine EF341C. The best money can buy."

I nodded to him. He took a deep breath and let his eyes close.

I was amazed when they never opened again, and he began to expertly strum the notes of blackbird, a Beatles masterpiece.

His rich, rusty voice came out a few moments later. It wasn't silky smooth like Whitney Houston, and it wasn't sandpapery like Steven Tyler's. It was somewhere inbetween, complimented by beautifully controlled vibrato.

I realized I wasn't breathing. He was breathtakingly beautiful as he played, as if God put him on the planet for the sole purpose of performing. He did so effortlessly, perfectly, which struck a throbbing hole of passion in my chest.

When he finished, I touched his arm, trying to think of something to say.

He looked deadly serious.

"Jon, you're so... I think you're... how do you even..."

"I didn't unpack this room because then it would be real," he said, almost choking up some. "It would mean everything I fought for was really nothing, it would mean the music was gone, my career is over before it started. Making myself at home here would mean Jersey is gone, Bon Jovi is diminshed. If I unpack, the end is here."

Sadness had consumed him so quickly. Was he a sad drunk? He was on his fourth beer of the night.

I wrapped my arms around him, getting up on my knees and bringing his head to my shoulder. He slid his guitar to the side and pulled me in closer, breathing in and sighing heavily.

"It's not over, Jon. It's far from over. It's hardly begun."

He nodded a little. Rebel Rebel was ending, followed by the awkward crackling of the transition between two songs.

"You believin' in me is the best thing anyone could ever do."

We both froze when a weird synthesizer riff we didn't recognize filled the room, the kind that was so bright and poppy it was almost disgusting.

Jon perked up. "Huh. Don't think I know this one, which is it?"

I went to the turntable and flipped through the album covers. "Um... 'Hunting High and Low'? It's from this new wave group. I picked it up just to try it out, I guess. I had heard only good things..."

I stood there, watching the vinyl turn for the entirety of the song. It was... strange, it wasn't rock or pop, but instead some weird, muddled inbetween thing that couldn't be identified.

When the song ended, I turned the dial to cut the power to the turntable.

"I don't think I like it," I said, rubbing the back of my neck. "I dunno."

Jon shrugged thoughtfully. "It's a little happy-go-lucky for my taste. 'Take on Me', the song is called?"

I nodded. "Yeah... I'm gonna start it over."

I picked up the needle and returned it to the beginning of the song, breathing deeply as the synthesizer beat picked up again. I cocked my head slightly, just listening again.

When the song ended again, I turned off the turntable and looked at Jon. He rubbed the back of his neck, shrugging and cocking his head.

"Uh... it's not bad I guess."

"Yeah, they're Norwegian I think. Some weird... new wave."

He stood up slowly and same to stand beside me at the turntable, staring at the motionless vinyl. He swallowed hard and looked at me. "Maybe one more time?"

I grinned. He turned the music back on, and there was a split second of taciturnity.

And then we started dancing like maniacs, singing lyrics we didn't know and jumping on the bed. Beating each other with pillows and laughing super loud, probably confusing everyone else in the house.

When the song ended we collapsed to the floor, clutching pillows and our stomachs, our laughter fading out with the beat.

"That song..."

"It's so disgusting it's amazing."

I sat up really quickly. "I've got a secret thing for new wave, I think. And Cyndi Lauper, but who doesn't? Pop music isn't so bad, but rock n' roll is better."

"Oh yeah?" he smirked.

He rolled over on his stomach and crawled over to one of his old stacks of records and flipped through it quickly. His smile widened as he pulled out Destroyer, sparking excitement in the both of us. He took everything off and put the KISS record on.

"I feel uptight on a saturday night!" we both chorused.

{...}

The moon was full as we walked side by side back toward my house.

I shoved my hands into my pockets, throat still raw from singing for half the night. I didn't know how much of a KISS freak he was until then, and that only made me respect him even more. His hair was blowing gently in the night breeze, and he had on a pleasant little smile that matched my own.

"Can we never fight again please?" I said with a laugh.

His little smile turned into a grin. "You said it. Never again, Freckles. I forgot how good it feels to just do... normal stuff with you."

I nodded and faced him. We were getting dangerously close to my front door.

"I'm sorry, for everything-"

"Oh god, me too! I should've listened to what you said about Vick, because you were right. All she wanted was..." he trailed off, refusing to meet my eyes with his own shame-filled ones.

"But did you..."

"Fuck no, I didn't. When I realized she was using me, our 'relationship' didn't last long after that."

I gave a satisfied chuckle.

"You and Jax?"

I frowned deeply. "Yeah, I'm pretty sure that's done with."

He kicked at a few stones. "I... I'm sorry. Did... anything happen that I should know about?"

I looked at his earnest face for a little while, and slowly shook my head. "No, I'll be fine. Just need some bro time for a little while, huh?"

A mixture of emotions passed through his face, before he nodded in agreement.

"Picking me up for school tomorrow?"

"Hell yeah. Just one more question though..."

"Yeah?"

"Josh... you won't be kissing him anymore right?"

He seemed deadly serious, staring and waiting expectantly for an answer.

"Oh fuck no, that was just something I did in the moment... just because..."

"That's all I needed to know."

I gave him a nod and walked up the steps to the porch slowly, feeling better than I had in a long time. I couldn't lie, I still wanted Jax back... but at least I had someone back on my side. I wasn't lonely anymore, and I didn't have to worry about Vick getting to Jon.

"Freckles?"

I turned with my hand on the front door. "Yeah?"

A loud breath escaped him. His mouth hung open. "I..."

"I know Jon," I interrupted him. "I know."

{A/N}

SORRY FOR THE LONG ASS WAIT Y'ALL IT WAS PROM WEEKEND AND WHILE I AM BUT A MERE SOPHOMORE, MY BOYFRIEND IS A SENIOR SO GUESS WHO HAD TO DRAG THEIR ASS TO PROM

ANYWAY VOTE AND COMMENT K BYE