living_endless | From the Cabins to Room 322, Thursday Night

This was probably the most misleading birthday gift to be given to Jonothon through his entire life.

In all fairness, Jono hadn't gotten many birthday gifts throughout his lifetime, which was possibly part of the reason why he hadn't really let anybody know about his birthday in the first place. What was really the point, if you psyched yourself up only to be faced with disappointment?

And so the fact that Didi was leading him back to the dorms for 'something special' was... Well, it was absolutely making his day. Shouldn't it be?

//And I don't get any hints?//

Really, with all of the innuendo that had been involved, he didn't figure that he needed any hints. But, well, that was how this was supposed to go, after all...

He was only turning 19! There could be many, many more misleading birthdays to come.

"Do you trust me?" she asked, sing-song. "'Cause if you trust me you don't need hints."

//Well, if I didn't trust you,// Jono reasoned, //I probably wouldn't be followin' yer all th'way to th'dorms for a complete surprise, like this.//

Oh yes. A total, absolute surprise. Because he would never in a million years guess what Didi had in mind for him, right?

"All ... half-mile across the island?" Didi checked, with a raised eyebrow. They were climbing the stairs to her room, now, and she frowned hard as she patted down her pockets.

"I can't find my key...."

Liar.

//No key?// Jono's eyebrows furrowed faintly. //Well, it doesn't have to be yer room, does it? I could probably pick th'lock, if need be...//

Jono was good at getting himself into trouble, back in the day.

"Found it," Didi sang out, pulling the key out of the coin pocket in her jeans. She twisted the knob, slowly pulling the door open.

Jono could wait a few more seconds.

Christian sat on the edge of Didi's bed, sitting bolt upright with a bow around his neck. (The bow was his own idea.) He grinned at the pair as they came in.

"Surprise!"

Jono was, indeed surprised.

In fact, the only thing keeping Christian from being crispy-fried by a very surprised flaming mutant was, possibly, that bow, and that ridiculous grin. Both of which suggested that, instead of some kind of intruder, this boy here was, in fact, that 'something special.'

...

//You... got me a bloke for my birthday.//

Give him a moment.

//...He has a bow.//

"He's not just a bloke," Didi explained. The expression on Jono's face was absolutely priceless; it was a little hard to keep herself from laughing. "There's a plan here. He -"

"I sing!" Christian declared earnestly, interrupting Didi's explanation. "You have a very special lady in your life. She wanted to give you a singing voice for your birthday ... so she loaned you mine. Or, technically -- I suppose I will."

Jono was going to need another moment, still. There was a lot to process, here. Things like, 'He's really wearing a bow,' and 'A voice? Really?' and, of course, '... That wasn't the special something I was expecting.'

That last one was going to stick with him for a while.

//You're... a vocalist, then.// He had to make certain that he was getting this straight, yes. //Have you got any experience singing for audiences, mate?//

If Didi were being a nice girlfriend, she might point out that the something special he was expecting was hardly entirely off the table, what with the having an empty dorm room and all night thing.

Ahem.

However, she was too curious how the scene would play out to make that point. So it was to Christian to answer Jono. "A bit," he said, bobbing his head. "Friends, mostly, and a few church pageants. But I'm hardly shy about it. Would you like to hear me?"

//Well, if yer not going to freeze up in front of an audience...// Jono waved his hand a little, raising an eyebrow at... his birthday present, Christian. //Fine, then. I'll audition you here on th'spot.//

For his wildly popular, mostly nonexistent band, sure. So far, he'd managed to draft Dandelion into being a second guitarist. The one that screamed plenty and tended to attempt to smash her guitar after every song.

Every modern band needed at least one.

//Go on, then. Sing.//

"Sing?" Christian echoed, a bit uneasy. "I suppose I ... could, yes. This is something I'm rather proud of."

He stepped up on the desk chair, closed his eyes, and began to sing.

You would not believe your eyes
If ten million fireflies
Lit up the world as I fell asleep
Cause they'd fill the open air
And leave tear drops everywhere
You'd think me rude but I would just stand and
Stare

I'd like to make myself believe
That planet Earth turns, slowly
It's hard to say that I'd rather stay awake when I'm asleep
Cause everything is never as it seems...

He'd sound interesting next to Dandelion.

He'd sound even better next to Owl City.

Jono listened, nodding a bit every time Christian hit certain notes, gauging how strong this other boy's voice was. If he'd be able to carry against a backdrop of instrumental accompaniment. He wondered how flexible this other boy's tastes actually ran. And, beyond that...

//Very good. Yer... Proud of that one, then? Of yer delivery of it, you mean?//

It was an untrained voice, but good -- strong and flexible, a light tenor.

"The delivery," Christian agreed at once. "And -- the words, you know."

...

//You... wrote it, then?//

Jono was taking a good many moments, tonight. This particular moment was taken in order to cast a look at Didi, asking if she was aware that she'd given him a delusional bloke for his birthday.

Wearing a bow.

"I did!" Christian affirmed, beaming. His expression faltered when he took in the doubt on Jono's half-face. "At least I ... thought I did. Sometimes songs just come to me and I'm not sure where they come from. My friends at home said I heard music in everything."

"Maybe he did in his world?" Didi suggested -- she'd heard the song on the radio all spring, too. "He can adjust to your repertoire, Jono."

Her eyes said something like please don't look this gift horse in the mouth too hard.

But the mouth was the part of the gift horse that was the most important.

Still and all, Jono projected a bit of a sigh, looking back at Christian and attempting to give him the benefit of the doubt.

//Listen to the radio much since gettin' here, mate?//

"I don't own one," Christian said, not seeming certain of the relevance. Usually, when people mentioned radio in his hearing, it was about some bit of gossip.

His answer didn't seem like enough, so he added, "I watch the television in the common room, sometimes. But that's hardly ever about music."

//And that's because MTV has failed this generation and every generation after it,// Jono replied, certain in the knowledge that music video programming was ruined forever.

As it probably was.

//I'll get you a radio, then. I think... hearing what people listen to nowadays might do you some good, mate. Not that there's anything th'matter with yer writing, of course.// A beat. //Quite the opposite, I'd say.//

"Thank you!" Christian said brightly. "Are there any particular styles of music you'd like me to get to know, or will we -- play it by ear, as it were?"

Then, shyly, "And what is emteevee?"

Oh my.

//MTV- M. T. V. It used to be Music Television. But now they waste their airtime with absolute rubbish that has nothing t'do with music.// Jonothon did not approve. The nuances under his voice probably broadcasted that much clearly. //What year are you from, mate?//

Apparently a year that had Owl City, but not MTV. Christian came from Special Land.

"It was 1895 at home," Christian said.

Very, very special 1895.

"What year are you from?"

The most special 1985 that Jono had ever heard of, at least.

//A century after you are, mate,// he replied, managing to finally choke down his skepticism. //From 1995. And so I don't imagine you've ever heard of Grunge music, then?//

"Never," Christian said emphatically. "But I know all the songs the girls do at the Moulin Rouge!"

Why he thought this was relevant, who can say.

//And did you write those ones, too?//

Look, Jono couldn't help himself. Sometimes he had to be completely patronizing while wearing a totally sincere face. The sincere face part was easy to do, at least, as he only had to worry about looking half-sincere in the first place.

".... no?" Christian tried, blinking. "A lot of them are in French. I don't write French."

//Pity,// Jono replied, lightly. Heck, he was even offering his best attempt at a smile! That totally counted as being nice. //And here I was hoping I could introduce you as th'bloke who wrote Frère Jacques.//

Jono was an ass. He couldn't help it. Or, rather, he could, but that would take too much effort. And his was a friendly sort of teasing, at least. If he was being malicious, he'd make certain that Christian knew it.

//Very well, then. How are yer Tuesdays, mate? I run th'record shop in town, and Tuesday is my day t'go in. We could... rehearse. Or... something.//

"I don't have anything to do Tuesdays," Christian answered. Encouraged by Didi's glances in his direction, he had stood and was edging towards the door. "I'll -- stop by the record shop, then? Is there anything I should bring?"

//Just yer voice and an open mind,// Jono replied. //I'll try to get our other guitarist to show up, and we'll see if we can't find some happy medium between our respective styles of music.//

Jono figured that it ought to work out well for him, at least. The happy medium between Fireflies and Feedback probably did happen to be Grunge.

Christian flashed that smile of his one more time. "I think I'd like that," he said. "I'll see you."

He started fiddling with the bow, untying it and letting it drop to the floor. "If -- if there's nothing else, I think I'll leave you to your birthday celebration."

And to that, Jonothon nodded.

//Have a good night, mate.// A pause, and then, to both Christian and Didi, //Thank you.//

She'd gotten him a voice for his birthday.

There weren't words to describe how touched he was, underneath the leather and snark.

Christian said it was nothing and let himself out of the room, leaving Didi to beam at Jono and flop backwards onto her bed.

"I didn't ask for the bow," she said. "But I like him, don't you? He's so ... alive."

//Very enthusiastic,// Jono agreed, eyeing the bow on the floor for a moment, and then reaching down to pick it up. //Th'bow was definitely a unique touch, I'd say.//

He looked the bow over in his hand for a few more seconds, and then made his way over to the side of Didi's bed, leaning forward and smiling down at her.

//I suppose I'll have to stop givin' him a difficult time of it, if he's serious about singing, hm?//

But teasing the Bohemian was fun.

"Oh, I don't know. He didn't seem to mind so much," Didi said. "Besides, aren't egos a tradition for rock stars?"

And teasing the Bohemian was fun.

She was craning her neck to see him, and she waggled her fingers in a little wave. "Hi. Sit down?"

Well, he certainly wasn't about to let an invite like that one pass him by. His fingers brushed against her knee as he sat himself down on the edge of the bed beside her.

//Egos are a tradition,// he pleasantly agreed. //But I'll try not to get too full of myself when we're rich and famous and all that. No promises.//

Edited 2010-07-23 14:46 (UTC)

She cuddled into him, fingers interlacing with his. "He can be the prettyboy frontman," she said. "You'll be the brooding genius. And Dandelion will be ..."

She broke off, there, thinking about it. "Dandelion will be the wild one. Always in tabloids."

Going by what Jono already knew about Dandelion, or, at least, what she'd said about her life to date, she seemed the sort who was already tabloid-fodder.

//If people keep calling me th'genius of the band, then it will all go straight to my head.// A pause. //Though I don't suppose it would be too much of a stretch.//

At least, so far as Jono saw it, not if people were comparing him to the other two in the group.

He was kind of afraid to start looking for a percussionist, at this rate.

Didi laughed. "See? You already have the ego part down. No superstardom needed."

She glanced at him under her eyelashes. "I know this wasn't what you were expecting, but ... you've wanted a singing voice. For a while. Meeting Christian felt like fate."

//It wasn't what I as expecting,// Jonothon admitted, twining his fingers through hers for a moment, and then re-claiming his hand so that he could tie the bow that he'd picked up around her wrist. //But I don't appreciate it any less, luv. Provided we don't manage to frighten him off... He's got a good voice.//

There was always that lingering undertone that he'd gotten better at wrestling down. The one that pointed out that Didi wouldn't have had to surprise him with a vocalist if not for the fact that he was only half there. A year ago, he might have gone out of his way to run that point to the ground, to repeat it until anyone within psionic earshot was well aware of his condition.

Now, it was simply fact. He couldn't sing. Christian could. Didi had brought him a singer. He still felt that pang of loss, missing the life that he'd had before, but that pang was easily overshadowed by how much more important it was, just then, to appreciate what he did have.

//You spoil me, you know that?//

Didi brought her hand up in front of her face, examining her new bracelet as she considered the weight in his words. Did she spoil him? She didn't think so. She didn't think Jono knew how much he deserved (which, in her head, was everything).

"Not really," Didi disagreed. "What's the point of a girlfriend if she doesn't take care of you? Besides, I like being on guests lists at shows. it was selfish."

Edited 2010-07-23 18:56 (UTC)

//Front row, centre seat,// Jono laughed, leaning sideways enough so that he could bump his head affectionately against hers. //Every show that you'd like, unless you prefer backstage. I'm fairly certain I could the stage hands to bring you refreshments, if yer backstage.//

He was getting a little ahead of himself, yes. He figured he was allowed, as it was his birthday and all.

"I can't get the stage hands to bring me refreshments in my seat?" Didi joked. "Oooh, or they could help pull me onstage to dance with you during the slow parts. I always like when that happens at shows."

//You'd be dancing around a Fender Stratocaster, which I'd be playing at the time,// Jono pointed out, laughing a little, //but I'm certain we could work around that, somehow.//

He was totally willing to give it a shot.

From the Cabins to Room 322, Thursday Night

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