Glitter In My Wounds chapter 3

[dracopet.livejournal.com]

Chapter 3: Operation Get Life Under Control Commences…..
and Promptly Crashes

In retrospect, he really shouldn’t have expected Christian to be alone.
The boy who answered the door had a very downtown posh look about him, which Draco knew was the sort of boy Christian liked. (Incidentally, he himself had never quite fit into the role right; the first time Christian met him, he’d been skinny as a rail and wearing black nail polish.) His clothes were all fresh-pressed and designer label, and there was a sneer on his face when he answered.
“Can I help you?” He asked, raising an eyebrow and putting just the slightest emphasis on the word ‘help’.
“Is Christian home? I need to speak with him.” Draco replied, standing up straight and speaking in his most imperious voice.
“Yes, he’s here. I’ll see if he has a moment.” The boy said, and closed the door. A few seconds later, it was opened again by Christian himself.
“Draco, come in, come in…Gabriel, you were just leaving, right?” Gabriel shot Draco an absolutely murderous look and slipped out the door.
“Draco,” Christian purred. “What brings you by?”
“I just came ‘round…I need to talk to you.”
“Yes, sure. What about?” Christian asked, sitting down next to him. He smiled. “Everything all right?” Draco swallowed hard. God, will power was harder than it sounded.
“Everything’s fine, I guess. I just—I wanted to ‘come round and tell you—you won’t be seeing me anymore.”
“Why not? Are you off on a tour or something?”
“No, I just—I can’t keep doing this, Christian. When I said I couldn’t be with you if this was the way things were going to be, I meant it. I don’t want this.”
“Draco,” Christian said softly. He put a hand on the side of Draco’s face, rubbing his fingers through his hair. “You and I both know you do.”
“I don’t.” Draco protested, but it sounded weak even to his own ears.
“You do, so why try and fight it?” He asked, leaning forward. He kissed him softly, gently. “Besides, I love you.”
Draco leapt up, his heart pounding.
“I mean it this time, Christian, don’t call me, don’t come ‘round to see me; we’re over, okay?” He snapped. Christian said something, but he was out the door before he could hear it.
During the walk to the underground station, he found two tabs of E in his pocket and swallowed them dry. On the ride home, he thought feverishly of why this hadn’t gone according to plan.
‘Clearly, I should’ve just done it on the phone. I’d forgotten what a master manipulator Christian can be. I’ll do it over the phone. Bit rude, but why do I owe him the courtesy? Right, over the phone, so he can’t touch me, or look at me, or smile.
Right, tomorrow over the phone.’
*******************************************
Brian was there when he got home, asleep. Draco was shaking with the effects of two tabs of Ecstasy and an empty stomach. The world was swirling just a bit. He felt dizzy and giddy as he stumbled into his bedroom. He swayed in front of the bed for several moments before falling into it.
“Draco…is that you?” Brian asked sleepily. “What have you been up to?”
“I went to see Christian, but it didn’t work, so tomorrow, over the phone. Have we got anything to eat around here, will you get up and make me an omelet?”
“Draco, love, you know I’m not really much of a morning person.” Draco sat up.
“I feel a bit ill.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know…I think I took some bad E.”
“Ecstasy on an empty stomach?” Brian groaned and sat up. “It’s no wonder you feel sick. Get up, let’s go into the kitchen. I’m a horrible cook, but I’ll do what I can.”
Brian made him an omelet and three pieces of toast and then marched him into a bath. Brian was sitting next to the bathtub listening to The Cure on the tape deck before he finally asked the question Draco knew had been on the tip of his tongue since he woke up.
“So what did you go see Christian for?”
“In all fairness, I don’t think I should have to have this conversation until you have the commitment conversation.”
“Your conversation is more immediate.”
“Yours is first in the queue.”
“I made you an omelet.”
“Fine. All I did was try to break it off with him properly. But, as I said, it didn’t work, so I’m going to do it tomorrow instead.”
“Why didn’t it work?”
“Oh, you know, Christian was, er….”
“There?”
“Yes, exactly.” Brian sniffed delicately.
“Did you fuck him?”
“No. I have got some sense, you know. Anyway, what do you care if I fucked him?” Draco asked sullenly, slumping farther into the water.
“I was only asking out of sheer curiosity.”
“Yes, of course, stupid of me to think otherwise.” Brian sighed.
“Look, studio time isn’t cheap. I should really be getting back. But I don’t want to leave things so weird with us.” Draco smirked.
“What’s weird?”
“Draco—“
“All I want to know is why you don’t want to date me properly.” “Because I honestly think it would mess everything up between us.” Draco took a deep breath and looked down at the water.
“Fine, go back to Scotland, and when you get back, we’ll pretend that none of this ever happened.”
“Draco, I’m not—“ Draco met his eyes with as much calmness as he could muster.
“Really, Brian, don’t worry about it. I’ll call you a taxi to the station tomorrow.” Brian gave him a last, conflicted look and left the bathroom.
Draco heaved a sigh and sank down in the water. He’d just crashed on Ecstasy and the only semi-normal love interest in his life was now wrecked.
Fan-bloody-tastic.
********************************
The phone rang at around four that afternoon, long after Brain had left, mumbling a vague excuse about mates in pubs.
“Draco, I told you will power works!!! He was there!”
“Simon, calm down and stop shrieking in my ear.”
“How can I calm down when I’m in love, Draco? Granted, he does seem a bit on the straight and narrow, but that’s probably just you and your bloody powers of persuasion. We talked for hours. As it happens, he really likes Placebo.” Draco winced a bit; he’d managed to not think about Brian all day since the incident in the bathroom by instead thinking about his flailing career.
“That’s great.”
“Are you all right? You sound a bit down.”
“I broke up with Brian. He’s taking the train back up to Scotland tomorrow morning. Also, have you noticed that I’m a no-talent hack?”
“Writer’s Block still holding, then? Take the underground someplace. You write all your best stuff on the tube anyway, right?”
“Yeah, I suppose. I don’t know, Simon, it’s just a matter of time before I get the usual phone call from the label asking how it’s going. They’ve got to be getting antsy; it’s been ages since we’ve sent them anything new. What if they drop us and I have to get a real job?”
“Draco, as usual, you are worrying over nothing. You thought your career was over when you were making I Lost My Head In Tokyo, then you wrote ‘Hammering In My Head’ in ten minutes in a hot air balloon in Japan and you were back. You’ll be fine.”
“But I’m not coming up with any ‘Hammering’s this time, Simon. Anything I write doesn’t even sound faintly like a legitimate song.”
“I’m putting the phone down on you now, love. Have a Mimosa and stop worrying.”
********************************
Max and Lance came strolling in around seven-thirty, arm in arm and laughing like laughing was going out of style. Normally, the sight of the two of them in such a state would have been fantastic, but now the sight of such happiness just made him sick.
“Have a nice day out?” he asked.
“Oh, yes, it was tops.” Max called. They were already halfway to Max’s bedroom.
“My day was horrible, thanks for asking.” Draco shouted at the closing door.
“That’s great!”
**********************************
Still, it was Sunday, right? There was a whole new week in front of him, a week that involved dinner with Harry Potter, breaking up with Christian, and saying good-bye to all his hopes for he and Brian.
A whole new week indeed.
************************************
Brian was already gone the next morning when he woke up.
The day at work was excruciatingly long. Draco could already feel himself falling back into an old familiar depression. On his lunch break, he sat in the bathroom of the bookstore for a half-hour, smoking and wishing he were dead.
When he got home at five, he went straight to bed until six-thirty. He walked to the club, still drowsy, and fell asleep again at the make-up counter in the dressing room despite Whitechapel Window Front’s loud-as-fuck playing. Simon woke him up five minutes before Angelfish was due on stage.
“Hi, Simon…just five more minutes, okay?” He mumbled.
“Draco, the rest of them are glaring at you like they want you to burst into flame. I highly suggest you get up and play like your life depends on it. Which it just might.” Now that he mentioned it, Draco could hear the announcer introducing them. He sat up; the room started to spin a little.
“I think I’m going to be sick.”
“I think you’d better wait.” The announcer called their name. Christian, Christopher, and Max started towards the stage without him. Draco made it to the microphone just as they started playing ‘Queer’. Draco did his best to brush off their glares and try to ‘play like his life depended on it’.
***********************************
Draco made it through the set, but just barely. The lights were too bright and everything was too loud and blood was rushing in his ears the whole time. When they finished, the rest of the band refused to talk to him, so he sat on the fire escape until The Slivs finished playing. They burst out of the side door of the club and caught sight of him.
“Hey, Draco! We’re taking off early, do you want to come and eat with us? It’s a free meal!”
“Sure,” He called back. He climbed down the fire escape and followed them to their van. On the way to whatever restaurant they were going to, Draco rested his head on Xev’s shoulder and mumbled,
“You’re all so much nicer than my so-called mates. Can I be in your band?” Xev laughed and ruffled his hair.
“You like Italian food, right?” Tim called back at him from the front seat. Draco fell asleep.
*********************************
He didn’t really like Italian food, but like Xev said, it was free meal, so he didn’t complain. By the time they were finished eating, he felt a lot better anyway. The Slivs was a band full of nice, normal people; there were no drugged-up, melodramatic relationships, no child abuse scandals, no masochistic obsessions, no pregnant pauses and loaded questions. You could tell from how they acted together that they’d never refuse to talk to each other because one of them fell asleep at the make-up counter.
When they dropped him off, Xev leaned out with a significant look and said,
“I’ll call you tomorrow. Don’t do anything rash.”
******************************************
Draco decided calling Christian would have to wait another day. Before falling asleep, he wrote what seemed to be the makings of a decent song. After a few minutes of blindly writing down lines, he stopped and looked at what he had:

In the middle of the night
Head on my pillow
Looking like a little ghost
Seems like all the things that you gave me, mother
Have all gone up in smoke

In the middle of the night
You don’t know what I’m thinking
But still the stars will sparkle and shine
Seems like all the time, out boat was slowly sinking
We didn’t even seem to mind

Now all I want to do is sleep

With a sleepy but satisfied smile, he scribbled ‘Sleep’ at the top of the page and turned out the light.
*******************************
The saying about how things always look better in the morning rang true for Draco because when he woke up the next day, he felt as though the day was just waiting to be seized. Granted, the day only consisted of going to work and getting the cold shoulder from Max, but you had to seize what you could, right?
Indeed, Max was still not talking to him when Draco strolled into the kitchen for a glass of juice before leaving.
“Morning, Max.” He said brightly. Max just sort of tipped his head at him and narrowed his eyes. “Still not speaking to me, then? Honestly, you’d think none of you had ever fallen asleep before.” Max looked as though he wanted to say something, but instead slammed his cup of coffee down and stormed into his room.
On the walk to work, Draco thought about the upcoming holidays. It was November 14, and it looked as though he would be spending another Christmas alone. He didn’t dare try to get in touch with his mother, chances were Brian would still be avoiding him like the plague, and at this rate, he wouldn’t even have any mates to share the misery with. Still, he refused to let it get him down. In any event, he could always guilt Xev into letting him stay with her.
“Draco…how’s it going?” Richie asked when he entered the record shop.
“You know, Richie, one day, the boss is going to come in and sack you for being stoned on the job.”
“Stoned…..I’m not…stoned.” He giggled, then cleared his throat. “We got a new shipment of those Linkin Park Texas DVD things…or something…I’m gonna go across the street and get some chips or something, I’m starving.”
Richie ultimately didn’t come back for three hours. While he was out ‘getting some chips’, Michael came in. Draco bit back a groan. Michael was the last person he wanted to see. Ever.
“Hi, Michael. Can I help you find something or anything?” He asked with the utmost politeness; he bloody hated the service industry. Michael sneered at him and said,
“I doubt you sell what I’m looking for, Malfoy.” Fuck politeness.
“Then why the hell did you come in? Buy something or get out, it’s bad enough I have to see you at shows, but now you’re coming to my job to harass me?”
“You might want to hang on to this job. I hear you’ve got some nasty case of Writer’s Block and your band’s not even talking to you.”
“Mind your own business, Michael. Do you plan on buying that?” He asked, pointing to the David Bowie CD Michael was holding.
“I’m not buying anything from your store, Malfoy. See you at the show.” He said as he left.
“See you at the show.” Draco mimicked under his breath. “I bloody hate that wanker.”
Still, he sort of brought up a good point; his band wasn’t speaking to him. They had practice tonight, and a show the night after that, and they weren’t speaking to him, which was bound to make things just the slightest bit tricky. He’d just have to have it out with them at practice that night.
When Richie finally came back, he took his lunch hour and went immediately to the phone box on the corner to call Christian, but he wasn’t home. He called his house to check the messages and discovered there was one from Harry. The message asked if Thursday was good for dinner. That would give him a few days to get everything else in order.
When he got off work, he went straight to practice, which was at Christian’s house that night.
“Draco,” Christian answered the door, looking extremely uncomfortable. “You’re really early….great.”
“All right, Christian, why are you all not talking to me?”
“Look……..when Max and Christopher get here, they’re going to talk to you, and just so you know in advance, I tried to get them to lay off and I had no part in this whole intervention thing they’re planning.”
“Intervention?” Draco asked incredulously. “Why the hell would I need an intervention?”
“Er…I can’t tell you. They’ll…you know…” Christian looked at the floor sheepishly. “They’ll shout at me. But I’m sure we’ll get past this. I mean, we’ve gotten past Tokyo, the whole cross-dressing thing, etc., etc., so we ought to be fine. Do you want to see the new CDs I got today?”
*******************************
When Christopher and Max arrived, they gave each other grim looks before clearing their throats loudly.
“Draco, we really need to talk to you.”
“The silent treatment’s over, then? What’s it about?”
“Draco,” Christopher began with a sigh. “You know we love you, a lot, which should be evident in the fact that we put up with so much from you, but the other night was the final bit of straw that broke the camel’s back. The way you neglect this band these days—“
“Neglect this band? What makes you think I’m neglecting this band?”
“Oh, I don’t know, every-bloody-thing you say or do, ever. Honestly, Draco, maybe this band doesn’t mean anything to you—“ Max said.
“The band means everything to me, how can you say that?”
“Look, look,” Christopher said. “It’s just that you haven’t bothered to write anything in months and—“
“You think I’m not trying? You can’t blame me because I’ve got Writer’s Block!”
“Draco, just be quiet and listen to me for a moment, okay? You haven’t written anything in months, you blow off practice, and you can barely keep it together on stage, especially last night.”
“I was tired last night!”
“Draco,” Christopher said, cocking his head to the side and giving him an almost pitying look. “Do you really expect us to believe that? We ought to know drugs when we see them.” Draco scoffed.
“I was not on drugs! And even if I was, I really don’t think you have a right to hold that against me, considering everyone in this band does drugs, and some of you do a lot bloody more than me! I mean, God, aren’t I allowed to be a bit off sometimes? I’m having a rough time right now, and I—“
“God!” Max exclaimed. “That’s all we fucking hear from you! We’ve stood by and waited time and time again while you dealt with your many issues, but sometimes you have to stop thinking of yourself and remember that there are other people in this band.”
“Max is right, Draco. You’re the songwriter and the lead singer in this band, and it’s time you took responsibility for that.”
“Max writes songs just as well as I do; make him write something for fucking once.”
“Draco, there’s no need to be childish.”
That was it, Draco had had enough.
“When you’ve decided to be reasonable and vaguely understanding, I’ll be waiting.” He said, and left.
“Can you believe the nerve of them?” He ranted to the taxi driver on the way to Xev’s flat (no way was he going to stay with Max at the moment). “Especially all that rubbish Max said about me and my many issues, after we all had to stand by and watch him totally self-destruct with Lance. Unbelievable! God, I should quit and form a new band, and then they’ll be sorry! Don’t you think?” The taxi driver blinked and said,
“Absolutely…are you that bloke from Boyzone?”
*********************************
Xev’s girlfriend, Lucinda, answered the door.
“Hello, love. Were we expecting you?”
“No, I’ve just come because I really can’t go back to my flat at the moment.”
“Why not?”
“Long bloody story.”
“Oh. Fancy some cocoa, then?”
Draco had always really liked Lucinda. Half Scottish and half Indian, she came from a very no-nonsense family. She wasn’t one to mince words or hide behind things; Lucinda told it exactly as it was, no more and no less.
“Cinda! Who was at the door?” Xev called from the lavatory.
“It’s Draco! Says he can’t go back to his flat!” Lucinda called back. She turned to Draco and handed him an oatmeal cookie and a cup of hot cocoa. “What’s that about then?” Draco sighed.
“They’re all hacked off with me for no legitimate reason.” Xev came into the kitchen wearing a hot pink string bikini.
“What’s going on with your mates, love?”
“Why are you wearing a string bikini in the middle of November?” Draco asked.
“Look, love, I’ve seen your closet, and someone who owns a green sweater vest should hardly be passing judgment. So what’s on?”
“His mates are hacked off with him for no legitimate reason.” Lucinda replied.
“They think I’m a selfish, irresponsible drug addict, apparently.”
“I thought they liked selfish, irresponsible drug addicts; they’ve got Lance in, don’t they?” Xev scoffed.
“Well, according to them, I’m the leader of the band and I need to stop fixating on my ‘many issues’ and start writing properly.”
“I thought you had Writer’s Block,” Lucinda said, pouring Xev a cup of cocoa.
“I do.”
“Well, they can’t blame you for having Writer’s Block, that’s stupid.”
“That’s what I said. But they all seem to have lost their minds. Anyway, I assume we’ll patch up before the show tomorrow night, but who knows?”
“I’ll go in early and see what’s what.” Xev offered. She pursed her lips. “I suppose you want to stay with us, then?”
“Can I? I really don’t want to have to hang ‘round with Max, and I can’t go to Christian’s, as I’ve vowed to break it off with him, and Simon can barely fit himself into that sardine tin he calls a flat, let alone company. You’ll barely even notice I’m here, I swear it.” Xev snorted.
“Yeah bloody right, I’m sure. Still, I suppose it’s all right. But not forever, eh? If you all break up or something, you have to get your own bloody flat, I won’t have you mooching off us for the rest of your life. If I wanted that, I’d have kids.” Draco sighed.
“Thanks a lot, and I mean it. Sometimes I think you’re the only reasonable mates I’ve got.”
“Yes, that’s true, actually. Do you want me to go ‘round to your place and pick some things up for you?” Xev asked.
“That’d be great, thanks.”
*******************************
Xev returned about a half hour later, carrying his suitcase and looking furious.
“Draco, I’m afraid Angelfish is breaking up; I decided on the way back here that I really hate Max and that you can’t talk to him anymore.”
“What did he do?” Lucinda asked.
“Well, he told me about his and Christopher’s ridiculous ‘intervention’, and what I want to know is why, just because he and Lance have finally cracked it and started behaving like normal people, does he think he has a right to give other people advice on things and rave on about drugs and what have you? Only last week, he was just as much of a wreck as the rest of us! It’s so bloody hypocritical. I hope you can make it up for the sake of the band, but quite frankly, if you and Max are never mates again, I don’t think it would be so much of a loss.” She tossed his suitcase into the guest room. “Anyway, I’ll go tomorrow and see what’s what. I think I’m going to go to bed before I do something irrational; are you coming Cinda?” Lucinda got out of her chair.
“Yeah, I suppose so. You’ll be all right, then?” She asked Draco.
“Yeah, absolutely.”
“Well, you know where everything’s at. See you in the morning.”
“Yeah.”
So it seemed like waiting Christian would have to wait another day…he’d have to call Harry, too…….probably call Christian and make sure that Max and Lance hadn’t turned him against him………………he should call Brian while he was at it……………..and………………………………………………………….
He fell asleep.
*******************************
Work the next day was mostly uneventful. Business was slow, as it usually was, so Draco idly tried to write. He came up with a few lines, but he didn’t think much of them.
When he got back from getting lunch for he and Richie across the street, Christian (the one he was supposed to have broken up with, sadly) was sitting on the counter talking to Richie. He turned when the bell over the door announced Draco’s entrance and gave him that slow, lazy smile that Draco loved/hated.
“Christian…what are you doing here?”
“I just wanted to talk to you about some things. Can we go in the backroom?” Draco eyed him warily; the backroom was never a good place to be when you were trying not to sleep to someone.
“Sure,” He said coolly. Christian followed him into the backroom. “All right, you’ve got ten minutes.” Draco said, turning on him as soon as the door was closed.
“I was just wondering what it was you were banging on about the other day when you came ‘round.”
“I wasn’t ‘banging on’ about anything; I was breaking up with you.”
“You already broke up with me.”
“Yes, and it’s clear that the message didn’t get across quite right. Now, as I said, I don’t want to see you anymore, Christian.” Christian reached out and tucked his hair behind his ear.
“Yes, and as I said, we both know that’s all a complete lie.” He sighed and put an arm around Draco’s shoulders, pulling him close. “Why don’t you just come back to me, Draco? I want you to, you want to, so what’s so complicated?”
“Christian,” He sighed, leaning into the embrace just the slightest bit. “Let me go.” Christian let his arm drop, and Draco stepped back.
“It’s Brian, isn’t it?”
“Yeah,” Draco lied. “It is.” Christian bristled.
“That’s great; you’ve replaced me, then?” Draco sighed.
“If you want to put it like that, then, yes, I have.”
“Fine, then.” Christian said stiffly. “I know when I’ve been defeated.” He gave him a brief once-over before taking his elbow and pulling him close. “One last for the road.” He purred, pressing their mouths together. Draco moaned helplessly as Christian’s tongue slid against his hotly for one quick second that seemed to last a lifetime. Christian pulled back and whispered, “Good luck, pet; I have a feeling you’ll need it.”, before slipping out the door.
Draco leaned against the wall. His thoughts were a whirlwind, but one stood out very clearly: at least that was out of the way.
*********************************************
When he got home, there was a note on the television. A paragraph was written in Xev’s semi-illegible scrawl, crossed out, and re-written in Lucinda’s more agreeable penmanship.

Draco,

Xev and I have gone out to work so we can keep ourselves in cheap coffee and Prada socks. From there, we’re going straight to the club. Wait for our call vis-à-vis your band and be prepared to come and play.
XOXO,
Lucinda and Xev

PS) There is double fudge ice cream in the icebox and Xev says if you touch it, you will die. Twice.

Draco decided to use his time wisely. He called his answering machine and wrote down Harry’s number. After having a Mimosa for nerves, he dialed it.
“Hello, Harry speaking.”
“Potter.”
“Malfoy? Is that you?”
“Yes. I got your message.”
“Yeah, and? Is tomorrow good for you?”
“Yeah, yeah, I suppose. Where should we meet?”
“Oh, I’ll pick you up.” ‘Like a date.’ Draco thought immediately. “Do you like La Swansois?” Draco winced.
“Not there.”
“Okay, do you like Italian, then?” Draco gave a long-suffering sigh.
“I guess that’s okay.”
“Great. I’ll come ‘round at about seven-thirty, then?”
“Yeah, okay.”
“Cheers, then, see you tomorrow.”
“Yeah.”
That had been astoundingly easy.
*************************************************
Xev called about three hours later.
“Draco…er, the good news is, the show went on…the bad news is, it went on without you. But if it’s any consolation, no one liked it.”
“Who took my place, then? Did Max take over?”
“Er…Draco….remember not to kill the messenger.”
“Why? What is it? Really, Xev, it can’t be as bad as all that. Just tell me.”
“Oh, but it can, love. They’ve replaced you with Michael.”
“With…replaced…but I hate Michael.”
“Well, I told you it was bad.”
“But…..how does he even know—ha, I bet that horrible bastard has been waiting for this opportunity for bloody years! Michael? Are you totally certain?”
“What do you mean, am I certain? Of course I’m certain! I’m not stupid, you know.”
“I didn’t know that, actually.” Draco replied distractedly. What a dirty move! Replacing him with someone he hated to the core of his being? It was underhanded, deliberately cruel, and blunt; just what he should have expected from Max and Christopher. Apart, they were reasonably nice, but together, it was like being mates with Joseph Stalin.
“Draco? What should I do? I could beat Michael up if you’d like; I never liked him all that much anyway, and I’m sure I could take him.”
“No, just let me deal with it. Does Christian look too pleased?”
“No, he looks as though he’d rather be having sex with a goat, actually.”
“That was a really unnecessary visual. I’ll talk to you later.”
“Yeah, cheers, love. You haven’t touched my ice cream, have you?”
“No, I haven’t touched your stupid bloody ice cream.” Draco answered, and hung up the phone.
This was truly unbelievable. They’d had their spats before, but he would never have thought they would do something as vindictive as this.
But in any event, betrayal and abandonment were fantastic song subjects, and within a half hour, he had completed his first decent, full-length song in almost five months.

I wish I had not woke up today
Everyone mistakes the sings you say
Take the simple truth and…twist it all around
Make it seem important, make it seem profound

Dog new tricks, nothing you learn will stick
Dog new tricks, you make me feel so worthless

Everyone I know has gone away
Died or left or just forgot to stay
Sometimes took for granted…sometimes turned away
Sometimes I didn’t say what I meant to say

Dog new tricks, nothing you learn will stick
Dog new tricks, you make me feel so worthless

I never would have pegged you
For what you have become
Everyone lies, everyone cheats
But not like you’ve done

He titled the song ‘Dog New Tricks’ and sent it off to the head of their record label, Post-Vodka Records, with a triumphant note declaring the return of his talent.
Now he had to decide what to do about the situation. He had three options: A) go over and have it out with them at the club, B) have it out with them over the phone, or C) actually quit the band and form a new one.
But he couldn’t really go to the club and just start shouting at them (though God knew he wanted to). That would make him seem silly and petulant. And he could barely even comprehend not being in Angelfish; he had been in the band for five years, through failed tours, arrests on charges of lewd conduct, nearly crashing their car into a herd of geese (long story), and God only knew what else.
So that really only left him with the phone option. He would give himself some time to calm down and call them the next day.
Right, tomorrow, over the phone.
Now why did that sound familiar?
****************************************
He was sleeping just fine, contentedly, even, until the whole of The Slivs came crashing into the flat, completely sloshed.
“Draco,” Tim said, climbing into his bed next to him. “We didn’t wake you, did we? We tried to be quiet.”
“Funny, your version of quiet is the loudest bloody thing I’ve ever heard. If you didn’t wake me then, you sure have now. Don’t any of you have to work tomorrow?” Aidan MacCrell, The Slivs’ drummer, laughed from the doorway, which was wide open and shedding bright light directly across Draco’s face.
“Like you’re a paragon of working properly!”
“I never went to work completely pissed!” Robbie, the bassist, mumbled something and they all burst out laughing. “Get out, all of you.” Draco commanded imperiously. After a few seconds of catcalls and the usual drunken idiocy, they all stumbled out. All except…….
“Tim, I meant you as well. Leave me alone, I’m bloody tired.”
“Draco,” Tim said quietly, and in that moment, he sounded completely lucid. “Do you remember that time you and the band went to Denmark to record, but you got in a huge fight and you ran away in the middle of the night and caught the night train home?”
“And I lost my keys and had to stay with you until they got back? Yeah, I remember. Why?”
“And do you remember what I said to you that night after Xev’s party?”
“About Edgar Allan Poe being the greatest writer of our time, after Dennis Rodman?”
“No, not that. In the alley? You don’t remember?” Draco thought for a moment.
“No…..no, I just remember the Poe thing and that bastard Michael throwing a bowl of Cheetos at me. I mean, that was, God, four years ago, and I was totally sloshed at the time anyway. I think you were as well, and high, too, so you maybe are imagining it.” Draco could see Tim give him a strange look in the darkness of the room.
“Maybe.” There was a beat of silence. “I’ll let you sleep…I’ll see you tomorrow.” He left quietly.
************************************************
The next morning, the living room of the flat was consumed by 10 cans of gold paint and ten more of silver paint. There were fifteen bottles of glue on the coffee table and a stack of newspapers six feet high.
“What in the bloody hell are you doing with all this rubbish?” Draco asked, stepping around the cans and into the kitchen. Xev grinned brightly.
“We’re throwing a huge New Years Eve party this year at Tim and Robbie’s house. We’re going to make this tremendous paper mache globe type thing and paint it gold and drop it off the roof into a kiddie pool of sliver paint. Fabulous, right? And we’re going to have a movie projector screen and play films on it all night. Doesn’t that sound like the most fucking fantastic party ever?”
“Where’s the screen going to go?”
“In the back yard, where else?”
“Xev, it’ll be the middle of winter. Who’s going to want to stand around outside watching films?” Xev frowned.
“I hadn’t thought of that……still, all those idiot Americans stand around Times Square watching things on New Years Eve, so why shouldn’t the people at the party?”
“Well, the people at Times Square have a reason to be there, and since neither you nor Lucinda is Casey Kasem, I wouldn’t count on it.”
0“Yes, well, we’ll figure it out. I need you to stay in tonight and help me make it, though. It’s a lot of bloody work. I wish Martha Stewart would do a show on how to make paper mache balls the size of a bloody car, because I’ve a sneaking suspicion that I’ve got no clue what I’m doing.” Draco shook his head.
“You’ll have to get someone else. I can’t stay in tonight, I’ve got plans.”
“Like what?”
“I’ve a got a date with Harry Potter. I’m off to work, then.” He called on his way out the door, leaving Xev standing in the kitchen with her mouth wide open.
**********************************************
“Richie, friends are crap.” Draco said wisely as they sat in the backroom, sharing a joint.
“I’ve always thought that. My only friend is my bong, man. Old Angelina is faithful to the bitter end…..do you think we maybe shouldn’t have closed the store to get high?”
“Possibly not the best idea, but, hey, what’ll happen?”
“The boss might show up…it’s one thing to be stoned at work, but to shut down the store so you can get stoned at work?” Draco scoffed.
“The boss has never shown up before, so why the hell should he show up today?”
At that moment, there was a furious pounding on the backroom door.
************************************************
“Draco!” Lucinda cried with a grin as he stepped into her clothing boutique, The Velvet Box.
“Don’t be so happy to see me.”
“Why? Aren’t you supposed to be at work?”
“Fantastic news! I don’t have to go to work anymore, they gave me a permanent vacation!” Lucinda’s eyes went wide.
“You got sacked?!” She paused for a moment after Draco nodded. “Well, you have been asking for it for awhile now. What happened?”
“Er, Richie and I closed down the store so we could…..er…get stoned.” Lucinda snorted.
“That’s most excellent, Draco. Honestly, your band’s on the skids, you’ve lost your job—do you plan on, I don’t know, getting arrested or something to round out the roster?” Draco winced.
“I know I’ve fucked up, Cinda. You don’t have to rub it in.”
“Well, where the bloody hell do you intend to work now? And don’t look at me like that; you’re not working here. I suggest you go to the bookshop and make up with Max immediately. He can put in a word for you and you can just get a job there.”
“You’re mad if you think I’m apologizing first.”
“Well, you had better do something, because as far as Xevvie and I go, our generosity only extends so far. IE, not to unemployed deadbeats.”
“It’s not as bad as all that, Cinda.”
“Yet.” She said, giving him an ominous look. “Besides, the longer you stay, the more likely you are to have to help her with that paper mache monstrosity she’s working on for the New Years party. Try Simon, God knows he’s not the arts and crafts type.”
*******************************************
In the sheer hopes that he was remembering Simon’s flat as smaller than it was, he took the underground there to get a double check.
Sadly, it was just as small as he remembered, if not smaller.
Simon sat him down on the couch and brought him a Mimosa, despite the fact that it was noon.
“So it’s finally happened then?” He asked cheerfully.
“What?”
“They sacked you. And Lucinda won’t let you stay with them anymore.” Draco blinked.
“How do you do that? It’s uncanny.” Simon shrugged.
“Queer intuition. Looking to stay here, are you?” Draco snorted.
“I was, until I saw the space. This flat is horrible, Simon, you couldn’t fit you and a bloody cheese grater in here.”
“Why’d you choose a cheese grater?”
“Just seemed right.”
“Well,” Simon said thoughtfully. “You can’t make up with Max yet, it’s a matter of pride….can’t stay with Christian as you’ve broken up with him….suppose you could always stay with Tim and Robbie, right?” Draco recalled the night before.
“Nah, things are a bit off with us, I can’t really explain.”
“Can’t stay with Christian, conflict of interest…….maybe you could stay with Harry Potter.” He cooed, batting his eyelashes with a grin.
“Shut up, Simon. Going to dinner with him tonight, though.”
“Really? You must call me with all the details, especially the part where you have sex, which, let’s be real, is inevitable.”
“Simon, really, shut up. Where the bloody hell am I going to live?”
“Well…..I mean, why the hell should you let Max being horrible run you out of your own bloody flat? I say go back there and give him the icy clavicle.”
“Don’t reckon I have much choice, right? Well, I’d better go and collect my things from Xev’s. I’ll call you tomorrow, first thing, okay?”
*********************************************************
“Draco? What are you doing home in the middle of the day? This stupid thing is going well, so I’ll be nice; do you want some ice cream?” Xev asked, holding the carton out.
“I got sacked. I’m only here to collect my things, as Lucinda’s kicked me out.”
“She told you you couldn’t stay with us?”
“Yes, and she was a bit of a bitch about, too.” Draco answered sullenly. Xev winced.
“She’s only looking out for us, you know. Don’t be cross with her, she doesn’t mean to be mean. Where are you going, then?”
“Home. I’m not going to let that bunch of so-called mates keep me out of my own bloody flat any longer.”
“Don’t do anything rash, all right? You’ve got a record to write and record for Post Vodka, remember?”
“I’m not going to do anything bloody rash, all right? Max and I were mates once. I’m sure we can be civilized to each other.” Xev just gave him a skeptical look.
“I’m sure. Anyway, actually, you know, Robbie has been thinking of moving across the pond…to the states, you know.”
“Really? Will you have to get a new drummer?”
“Well, that’s what I was thinking of. I mean, without Aiden, the band will be a bit off. Tim may leave as well, because Jay from Apathy District wants him to come to Canada and record with them. So I was thinking that you and Christian are a bit off, so why don’t Robbie, Cinda, and I, and you and Christian sort of break our bands and start a new one? A sort of Angelfish-slash-Slivs hybrid band. Think of what we could do! We’re both halfway famous, so together, we would be famous. Theoretically, anyway, but if my math holds, it should work.”
“If things get so bad that I actually have to leave the band, that sounds like an excellent back-up plan. Got any names?”
“I’m torn between The Broken Hearts Club and Douchemaster 7.”
“Let’s stick to Broken Hearts Club for now.” Draco said, wincing.
**********************************************************
Max wasn’t in the flat when he got there, but it was his day off, so he was bound to come home soon.
He laid down on the bed and tried to think of what to do when he had to have their face off; would Max still be icing him out or would they be able to talk like normal people?
Max got home around an hour later, laden with about six shopping bags.
“Xev?” He called when we he saw Draco’s open door. “That you?” Draco could hear him coming to the door. “If you’ve come to get some more of Draco’s things, would you tell him--?” He stopped when he saw Draco. “Draco,” He said coolly. “Are you here to make it up?”
“Not really. I’m here because I live here.”
“Look, Draco, I really think we ought to talk about the state of the band.”
“What is there to talk about? You’ve already replaced me, right?” Max gave him a blank look.
“Replaced you? What are you talking about?”
“Xev told me about how you’ve decided that Michael could take my place as lead, so don’t bother with the innocent act.”
“Why would Michael replace you, he’s got his own bloody—oh, what, you mean because he sang for us last night?”
“Yes, I mean because he sang with you last night.” Draco replied impatiently.
“Well, you know, we only had him sing because we….needed a singer.”
“Like you couldn’t find someone else, anyone else!”
“Well, all of the Slivs we on command not to speak to us by Xev, and I was going to do it myself, but you know, you have such a distinctive voice and I didn’t really think the audience would be pleased, and then Michael said he knew the lines and he could sing for the night, if we wanted him to.”
“That’s a very elaborate excuse, Max, but I’m not buying it. Choosing Michael was a very deliberate and very hurtful thing to do, and I really would have expected a bit more consideration from you, of all fucking people.”
“We didn’t mean to, Draco. It was just, it was about three minutes to stage and I was a nervous wreck and Michael came in to the dressing room and said he could do it, so we said, yeah, okay. We were in a panic, we couldn’t believe you hadn’t shown up.”
“I suppose you assumed I was off doing drugs?” Draco asked harshly. Max winced a bit.
“I probably deserved that. We overreacted a bit about the show, I guess.”
“You guess?”
“All right, we did. It was mostly Christopher stirring me on, though. I swear, he has the persuasive powers of Hitler. Not the mustache, though.”
“You think jokes about dictators are going to make me forget? How could you choose Michael? I hate Michael!”
“It just didn’t occur to me. I was under duress! I’m really sorry if you genuinely thought we had replaced you. If you hadn’t phoned or come ‘round to make it up, we were just going to go ahead and do it ourselves. We felt really bad about all the things we said.”
“You should. And you know, it’s not going to be as easy as all that; you were really horrible to me.”
“I bought you something while I was out; does that fix things any?” Draco smiled just the slightest bit, in spite of himself.
“It’s a start.”

Comments

[tiamet-nox.livejournal.com]

I love this. Just thought you should know ^-^

[winsome1.livejournal.com]

This is an interesting story and I enjoy it! I do hope you continue soon. I am eager to know how that fellow and Ron will get along, what will happen with Draco's band, how Draco's date with Harry will occur, etc. Well done! :D