Almost Easy

“Blair,” Justin was whispering loudly at me, waving me over with his hand. “Blair, come here.”
I was at the opposite end of the bus as it hurdled us toward our last couples of shows. Justin had been cooped up in the back of the bus for hours doing god knows what. But now he had resurrected and was beckoning me to join him.
“Blair!” he said again, louder this time.
Brian leaned into my ear, “I think he would like your attention.”
I sighed heavily but got up anyway. I’d been quite comfortable nuzzled into Brian’s chest, half-asleep, half-contemplating the meaning of life. Life’s meaning would just have to wait.
“What do you want?” I groaned playfully once I was situated in the back.
He was sitting on the couch, an acoustic guitar in his lap. He patted the cushion next to him and urged me to sit.
“I wrote something,” he told me when he realized I wasn’t going to sit without an explanation.
Justin had never written anything for our band. He’d contributed once an idea was established but he’d never taken it upon himself to craft up an idea that was one hundred percent his. As a matter of fact, he’d hidden most of his musical talents away from the world. He was known to our fans as the drummer—but he could play so much more than that. He was skilled in guitar, piano—he played the violin for fuck’s sakes. Justin was definitely our virtuoso but his pompous demeanor detracted all attention from it. It was kind of a shame.
So, naturally, I sat the fuck down.
“I don’t know if it’s something we could use,” he went on as he absently strummed at a couple chords. “It’s really different.”
“I like different,” I smiled.
He nodded, leaning to his right and fumbling with some papers. He pulled out a semi-crumpled piece of white paper and handed it to me, his hands shaking a little.
“The queen of the damned?” I asked, a playful little smirk tugging at my lips.
He laughed, “Not the movie.”
I nodded subtly, skimming along the words. They were beautiful but they were seriously in the vein of depression.
“It’s about you,” Justin said lowly, “kind of.”
“Me?” I snorted. “I’m hardly a queen of the damned.”
“Oh, please,” Justin scoffed.
I glanced up at him quickly and then back to the lyrics. Maybe they were about me. It was basically a scripture of resilience. About finding a way to stand despite the weight of the world pulling you down to the damned events that had cursed you. It was fucking heavy.
“Show me,” I demanded once I’d read through its entirety twice.
He smiled, “You like?”
I tapped the paper a couple of times, staring him down, “I love this. I need to hear it.”
He played the chords for me, making sure to point out the bits and pieces that were “a work in progress” or that he was considering rearranging. It was slow. But it was powerful and I was instantly in love with it. I’d never performed a ballad—I wondered if I could pull it off.
“We need to show the others,” I told Justin happily once he’d finished. “This is awesome, Justin.”
He shook his head, “Can we wait on that?”
“What? Why?”
“I’d rather work on it with you,” he explained slowly. “I want it to be perfect before we pitch it to the guys.”
It had never occurred to me that Justin might be self-conscious. He’d always been so confident and fucking smug about everything. He’d never struck me as the type that might have insecurities nibbling on his ear lobes. But it was clear in that moment that Justin was undeniably human.
“Okay,” I agreed softly. “It can be our secret.”
“So you really like it?” he pried curiously.
I nodded, “I fucking love it. It’s maybe the best piece of lyrical work I’ve ever read—and the melody is…It’s perfect, Justin. Really.”
And it was.
We played through it together a few times, making changes together and noting places to add more depth and intricate drum work. We decided that once we were home, we would slave away at it in private, record the demo, and then pitch it to the group. It was undeniably different than our usual song structure but with its serious and intense beauty, there was no way they could overlook it.
Once Justin had grown tired of me, I was banished from his sight. I was happy to return to Brian and I wasted no time before dropping my head into his lap and closing my tired eyes.
“Not in front of the children,” Jimmy warned from the table.
“Shut up,” I groaned.
And I was asleep.


“Last show tomorrow,” Justin told me like I didn’t already know. “I can’t fucking believe we’re done.”
I half-laughed, “I can.”
He nodded, “Yeah, but you’ve been through the ringer on this tour, B. It’s been nothing but good times in my camp.”
“Rub it in,” I groaned.
“You’re moving when we get home?” he asked. “Like, right away?”
I just nodded.
“Do you need help?” he volunteered, much to my shock .”I’m happy to come lend my muscles if you need an extra set of hands.”
“Why are you being sweet?” I asked suspiciously.
He laughed loudly, “I’m not. I fully intend to call the favor in later.”
“Ah yes, there’s the Justin I know,” I smirked, shoving him a little.
“I’m glad everything’s working out for you,” he said then. “I promise I’m not going to get all lovey on you—but just for the record, you deserve all the happiness in the world.”
I blushed a little, smiling fondly, “Thanks, Justin.”
He nodded awkwardly, “I’m going to go finish my check. I’ll see ya later.”
And he was off, leaving me in the wings of the stage by my lonesome. The others were talking to the techs, or stretched out on the stage floor, maybe getting some shut eye. It wasn’t clear. Chris was remarkably hung over—he and Jimmy had gone on a bit of a bender the night before, despite my objections. I wanted our last show to be perfect—which seemed unlikely if our guitarist was fucked out of his tree.
Brian caught sight of my lack of companionship and instinctively came to keep me company. He wrapped an arm lazily around my shoulders, kissing the side of my head quickly.
“What’s up, pretty girl?” he asked without actually looking at me.
I exhaled loudly, “Just taking it all in.”
“Sad the tour’s done?”
“Not at all,” I laughed. “I’ll be happy to be home. I can’t wait to leave this tour behind.”
“I wish it had been a better experience for you,” Brian frowned. “I’ve always had the best fucking time on tour.”
“Live and learn,” I decided dismissively. “I’m excited to be home tomorrow. Isn’t that crazy? We’ll be home this time tomorrow.”
“Do you know what’s crazier?” Brian smirked, looking at me then. “We’ll be going home…to the same home.”
I smiled at the thought.
“But do you know what that means?” he asked seriously.
My eyebrows dropped a little as I shook my head no.
“You’re going to have to meet my parents,” he said with a little grin. “I can’t shack up with someone that my parents haven’t met. I’d never hear the end of it.”
“There’s no time for that,” I teased. “I only get fifty-some hours with you. I’m not sharing.”
“Nice try, Pretty,” he smirked, pulling me in a little tighter. “You’re going to have to meet my dad at the very least; he’s been harassing me nonstop about meeting you.”
“Okay,” I forced a smile even though the very thought made me insanely anxious.
He sensed my anxiety and smiled, kissing me again to comfort my stress level, “He’ll love you. How could he not?”
“Because I am a train wreck,” I said seriously.
Brian laughed hard, “Shut up. He’ll love you.”
Suddenly going home wasn’t seeming so sweet. Pros and cons. I’d never been good at the whole ‘parents’ thing. It was probably because I couldn’t remember actually having parents. I couldn’t remember what it was to be a daughter. I was too young when it had stopped for me—parents made me uncomfortable.
Except for Ty’s parents. But they were the closest thing I had to family; it was different with them.
But if Brian loved me, maybe his parents would have to love me by default.
I hoped that his father was as wonderful as Brian was. After all, he had to have inherited his personality traits from someone, right?
My lip was a bloody mess by time we hit the stage.

Notes

Coming to the end of this story, I think. It's getting to be pretty fucking long haha

Don't worry though, there are still a couple of points that I still need to hit before I can wrap it up. Plus, I fully intend on starting a sequel--if you will--to this story. What do you think is better, to finish this up at a point and start a sequel? Or would you prefer to keep it all within Almost Easy even if it means breaking 150+ chapters? Thoughts? Opinions?

Let me know!
xx