(no subject)
<< bring it into the small world
i'm building the big big love
The following days David struggled to keep himself above the water that was slowly flooding his whole life in the form of one celebrity singer who had seemingly captivated the whole town. Everywhere he looked, there was a sign with Noriega's face in his vision field; every single conversation in Tulsa revolved around the man who had stolen Archie's heart. David's chest ached a little whenever he heard those words, stolen Archie's heart, because he still held some hope for the impossible chance that his best friend would see the darkness surrounding Danny Noriega - with all the rumors about his wild parties back in California, and the possibility of him doing some sort of drugs and driving without license and under the influence, and all those paparazzi pictures of him in various compromising positions with both men and women - and then, once Archie had realized the evil that Noriega was, maybe he'd come running back to his true friends, the ones who had supported him no matter what, and perhaps, just as a tiny possibility, he would realized as well that David had always been by his side, waiting and hoping for a chance to prove that his heart belonged to Archie.
It was his living fantasy that kept him sane, that helped him sleep at nights when nightmares of what Archie could be doing with Noriega. David knew his life had been reduced to a single succession of hopes being crashed by reality, but he was glad to accept it so long as he could dream that Noriega would leave Tulsa for good - and without Archie hanging off his arm.
When Saturday came, David didn't want to get out of bed. His alarm clock went off at seven thirty, just like any other day of the week, but he rolled in bed and reached out and pushed on the snooze button. He didn't want to be awake just yet, and the burning hangover he was sporting - which he realized when he tried to crack one eye open and it fucking hurt to see the light - made him swear off drinking forever. He had been spending his nights alone in his apartment, where he was headed right after work because he couldn't stand hanging out with his friends when Noriega was around, and Noriega was always around. Therefore, he had taken to lying on his couch with a bottle of his old friend Jack Daniel's and old movies in black and white that he had previously muted.
The night before he had cried for four times in a row while watching Bogart letting go of Bergman in Casablanca. And it had been the cherry on top of the cake of the worst week in his life, so he had decided to go to bed with another bottle of Jack Daniel's. When David looked at the side of the bed, he found it almost empty. Shaking his head, he sighed. He needed to rein over his life once again, but he had the feeling that he wouldn't be able to do so until a certain foreign singer packed up his bags and went back to his sunny California paradise.
His cell phone blared on top of his nightstand. He glared at it, wondering how it had made it there. Maybe he had taken it with him the night before, but all he remembered from his drunken stupor were pieces and bits of moments, like watching the movie and crying and drinking in bed. David sat up on the bed and stretched out to take it. His fingers were trembling slightly, and he almost missed the phone. With a frown, David grabbed it finally and checked the display. It was Neal.
"Tell me you have a good reason to call me at this goddamn hour in the morning, Tiemann," David spat as a greeting.
"Someone's grumpy today," Neal joked. When David grunted in response, his friend seemed to sober up. "Listen, I know it's really late to tell you this, but I tried to call you yesterday, and since you disappeared so soon I thought maybe you weren't feeling well and-"
"Can you get to the point, Neal?" David cut him, exasperated. Neal could look like a tough man, with all his tattoos and his cigarettes, and he certainly didn't talk much - but only to strangers. With his friends, Neal was a true chatterbox.
"-whatever, man, you're a spoilsports," Neal complained. "Anyway, Andy and I can't go pick you guys up, my battery car kinda died."
"What the hell, Tiemann?" David grunted again. "And you tell me this now? You have some balls, knowing the only reason I haven't been using my car is because-"
"-you don't have money to fill the tank, I know," Neal sighed at the other end of the line. "Listen, I'll pay for the gas, I swear. Just, I don't know, move your ass and pick us all up, please?"
David scratched his head for a second while he thought. He was usually the last one to be picked on their way to the music store downtown, their friend Bryan's very own Heart of Music, where Neal taught little children how to play the guitar like badasses on Saturday mornings. Neal and Andy made the rounds before getting there, where while the most tattooed man among them - David had less than half the number of tattoos Neal had - worked, the rest of the gang - Andy, Archie, David himself - would spend their free time wandering around the music store. Sometimes, if Bryan needed people to entertain his customers whilst they walked around the store, they'd fool around with the guitars and attract a couple of interested listeners who usually enjoyed Archie's pure voice. David had a powerful voice as well, grave and hoarse and downright engaging, but even with Andy being the singer of their little band and Archie not being a part of it, they still allowed the younger of them all to take the spotlight. David thought it was worth the sight of those bright eyes lightening up when little girls walked up to him to ask for an autograph.
"Dave?" Neal said through the phone. David realized he had spaced out, and promptly apologized. "It's okay, man; I'm used to people disconnecting from what I say from time to time. Anyway, going to pick us up or what?"
"I'll have to go to Archie's first, then your house and from there we'll go downtown. Give me half an hour, tops," he decided suddenly, the hand in his nape falling gently to his side. He wasn't going to allow anyone to come in between his best friend and him - he would have to remind Archie of the fun they had doing what they liked the most - music.
It was with a fresh goal in mind that David got out of bed after hanging up on Neal, and with a brand new strut that he walked to his shower, getting rid of all his clothes in the way.
Less than fifteen minutes later, David was exiting his apartment, the set of car keys dangling in his hand. He made it to his Ford and positioned himself behind the steering wheel, ready to become a new age Hoke Colburn. But when he stopped in front of Archie's house, something inside of him told him that it was going to be really different than what he had already planned it to be.
Danny Noriega standing at the door with a single red rose definitely complicated everything.
David wanted to groan out of frustration. Instead, he killed the engine and hopped out of the car with the full intention of proving Archie that Noriega was just another shallow celebrity seeking for a piece to complete their personal collection of conquests.
Archie was walking out of the house; David noticed the way his smile shone like a thousand fiery suns against the darkness of the façade. Archie was gorgeous, David thought with a small shiver.
"Shall we?" Noriega asked after greeting Archie with a sickeningly too long kiss.
"Oh, yes, I want to show you everything about here! On Saturdays we go to the music center and Bryan lets us tune his guitars and test his pianos!"
"Bryan?" Noriega questioned with a raised eyebrow, turning to Archie, who hooked his arm with Noriega's, diverting his attention from David.
"Bryan Jewett, you know, he's the owner of that store," he butted in, though he had the inkling that no one would pay him attention.
"Sounds like a plan!" Noriega continued, pointedly ignoring David. He leaned toward Archie again - Archie who was so freakingly tiny - and kissed the top of his head.
David had to suppress a pretty obvious gag before masking it with a fake, plastic smile, and guiding them to the car waiting for the three of them. The ride to Neal's house, which he shared with Andy, was spent praising the virtues Danny Noriega possessed and that David noticed, as he counted inwardly, that he lacked. Things didn't look up for him when the rest of his friends hopped in the car, because Andy chose to share the back seat with the couple and he squashed Archie against Noriega in his haste to fasten his seatbelt. As if he needed the excuse, David thought when he watched, through the rearview mirror, the singer throwing an arm around Archie's shoulders and pulling him closer.
David wished he would close his eyes, but since it was out of the question he decided to focus on the road and the red lights the city threw his way, making him stop every few minutes and endure a sickening experience of loving displays. On the passenger's seat, Neal was holding back his laughter, David could tell, but it was to no avail. Whenever Noriega said anything - and the fucking man just wouldn't stop - everyone agreed and nodded and paid him the attention Noriega was most surely used to having, and Neal took advantage of the situation to let out one giggle, or one laugh, whenever he could. David gave up on glaring at him when he almost ran through his third red light in a row.
David was ready to hang himself by the time the five of them reached the music center. He actually sighed happily when Noriega shut up to take in the massive building in the middle of one of the most important streets in Tulsa.
"Didn't know you had such things here," he muttered. David could tell there was awe in his voice.
"What, did you think us poor country people wouldn't know how to build tall buildings?" Andy mocked, winking at Archie. Everyone snickered when Noriega blushed.
"Hey, I haven't said that!" he tried to counteract, but even Archie dissolved in giggles at his outburst, and in the end Noriega imitated them. The only one who wasn't laughing at all was David, with his gaze set forward, pointedly ignoring the mirth inside his car. He felt deflated and lost.
"You'll see, when you come to Los Angeles," Noriega said when he regained his composure. "You'll see the tallest buildings you've ever seen."
"You're taking us to Los Angeles?" Andy retorted with a high pitched squeal. It was no secret to his friends that one of his dreams was to live in the City of Angels.
"Of course!" Noriega nodded vigorously. "You can all come visit when I come back home. I'll make sure to have enough food in the fridge."
"You mean, you'll make sure to call your two assistants so they can order someone to fill your fridge for you," Archie chastised him at the same time as he patted him affectionately in the arm.
"That too," Noriega admitted, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand. The other was still tangled with Archie's in between their laps. David felt the nausea rising again in his throat, bile and bitter anger piling up. He bit his tongue to remain silent and stopped quickly in front of the front door.
"Listen, you go now," he said evenly. No one seemed to mind him speaking, so he continued. "I have to park, and it's obvious there's no free spot around here, so there's no point in you tagging along when you could be enjoying music until I get there."
Under the excuse of going to find somewhere to park, David left them there and turned the following corner, where an available parking spot promptly glared at him. As he put to good use his knowledge of the common parking rules, he let his mind wander to places where he shouldn't have allowed it to. He was aware that, if he studied the situation from an objective point of view, Danny Noriega was pretty much the best thing to ever happen to Archie. But David was biased and stubborn as all hell, so he refused to believe that. He wanted to think that he would be a much better option - he knew Archie inside and outside, he could tell when his friend was angry or sad or annoyed or bored with just a glance at the way he moved his hands. But life was never fair, David knew that was well, and therefore he didn't stand a chance against the most loved - and envied - celebrity around.
When he considered that his car was perfectly parked, David killed the engine, but he didn't exit the vehicle. Instead, he remained inside, wrists resting on top of the abused leather of the steering wheel. His thoughts were running wildly in his mind, like crazed dancers in a high. His hatred for Danny Noriega was unfounded; the singer hadn't done a thing to him except for existing, and David resented him just for that. He had the feeling that nothing would have ever happened if Noriega had never drawn that fucking date with him to raise money for charity. David resented Save The Children as well - who the hell did they think they were, supporting the hideous cover of a celebrity that had used them to get back in track with his fans? David had read somewhere that Noriega had lost his path, rumors of alcohol and drugs and general nastiness spreading around like gunpowder, and he found utterly disgusting that his trick to gain popularity not only had been successful, but also had gotten Noriega to meet one of the purest people walking the Earth.
Maybe David was a bit biased when Archie was concerned, but he couldn't care less. He wanted Archie for himself, even if he felt as if he would never grow the balls needed to tell Archie face to face, or through a letter. David had written countless songs about love and life and loss and regret, he knew what he was talking about. He knew about heartbreak and shyness. He knew about longing and brooding in solitude. All his heroes, the people he sang about, were brave and audacious - they spoke their minds most of the time. David wasn't like that at all, and that was why he liked singing about withdrawn emotions when no one would listen to him.
He frowned. The clock told him he had wasted too many precious minutes alone in his car, but he didn't feel the need to step out. If he did so, he'd be forced to face one of the realities he wasn't ready yet to confront. However, his mother had taught him to never shy away from problems, so he made up his mind. Whether he liked it or not, Archie was now living his personal version of a modern fucked up fairy tale, and David had been a shitty best friend just by having behaved the way he had those days. He sighed and opened the door, picking his messenger bag from the car floor and setting his feet on the dirty ground outside. He closed the door of his car with more force than necessary, and walked towards the building with just one idea in mind - he needed to show Archie that Noriega, just like every other vapid celebrity from Hollywood, was only another empty pretty face.
David entered the music center to the sounds of his boots' heels clicking on the floor and an all too familiar tune. Frowning in confusion, he searched for the source of the music and found it in the back of the store, where usually he and his friends played the songs they themselves wrote. A crowd had gathered around the small set of guitars. David approached the audience from behind, wondering why Andy might have deemed appropriate to play one of David's songs when David wasn't around. He pushed his way to the front row and had just made it halfway there when a voice he had been forced to hear for over a year crashed into him. Even though he didn't have to look, he reached the front row to see Danny Noriega sitting on a stool and playing one of David's songs on David's guitar - the one with AC engraved on it that Bryan kept in his store following David's own request, since he didn't want to misplace the only memory he had from his older brother, and God forbid it from being stolen in the ratty apartment he rented - with Andy accompanying him, serenading Archie as he sang lost his way from everything he swore he knew, a friend run away from start to finish though it never ends, in his mind he is blinded by all he sees that David himself had written for Archie.
He stood there through the whole song, as Noriega mumbled his way through the lyrics someone - probably Andy - had placed in front of him, close your eyes, just pretend the bullet isn't there, no surprise, no need to pretend that no one really cares, but in his eyes you will find the very best in me, what are you looking for? David closed his hands in tight fists as he listened to his own creation being butchered by someone who called himself an artist, when all he was could be resumed in a couple of words - an thief of ideas.
"Are you looking for something more? It's not me, it's not me," Noriega finished, his fingers plucking tentatively at the strings as he evidently sought for a way out of that stage. Everyone gathered around applauded when he retired his hand from the guitar. Everyone except David Cook.
David wasn't livid. He was numb, he couldn't feel anything. All he could see was Archie's face and his adoration radiating through every pore. Even if he wanted to scream that the song was his, David couldn't ignore the light in Archie's eyes.
"Dave," Archie called when the song ended, moving against the crowd that was clapping excitedly. "Dave, have you heard it? It was so incredible!"
"Yeah, yeah, I've heard it," David sighed. He stepped backwards, jerking away from Archie's touch. "Listen, Arch, I think you're going to need a ride back home. I don't feel all that well."
"Why? What's going on? We have just arrived, you have just arrived!" Archie seemed truly worried. "I'm going with you-"
"Nah, Archie, enjoy your morning. I'll see you at the karaoke tonight." David began to retreat. He didn't see Andy looking at him pitifully.
"But-"
"Goodbye, Arch," he tried to say in a firm voice, only to find with rising fear that it was breaking at the edges.
"Is this because of the song?" his friend asked, widening his eyes. "I should have known better, I'm so sorry, David, I should have said no when Danny talked about performing but had no song ready, and then Andy suggested your songs you kept in your guitar case and-"
"See you later, Archie," he muttered, finally turning around. He had no strength left to explain that it hadn't been only the song, it had also been the guitar, since it was the last vestige of a past that had died slowly in his hands, like sand falling little by little through the open spaces in between his fingers. David didn't wait for Archie to talk again; he kept walking, hoping that the trembling he felt in his limbs didn't show in his strut. He didn't realize he had been holding back his tears until he found himself alone inside his car, wiping them away with his thumb.
"Fuck, Arch," he muttered t himself as he started the car. "The things you do to me, and the things you make me do," he continued.
The trip back to his apartment was filled with angry thoughts and deep feelings being crushed and burned for all eternity in his soul. The moment to open his front door and get away from the world didn't seem soon enough, but somehow he managed to get by those endless moments before he could see his building in front of him. He parked carelessly and barely managed to lock his car, scraping to reach his door. He just wanted to crawl into a ball and cry himself to death.
Sprawled on his bed, David didn't even think of having lunch. He was lost in his mind, replaying the scene he had seen, the love that he had been able to feel there in Archie's stare. By the time he had to get ready for their weekly karaoke night, David's head ached almost as much as his heart.
it has to be a big thing >>
i'm building the big big love
The following days David struggled to keep himself above the water that was slowly flooding his whole life in the form of one celebrity singer who had seemingly captivated the whole town. Everywhere he looked, there was a sign with Noriega's face in his vision field; every single conversation in Tulsa revolved around the man who had stolen Archie's heart. David's chest ached a little whenever he heard those words, stolen Archie's heart, because he still held some hope for the impossible chance that his best friend would see the darkness surrounding Danny Noriega - with all the rumors about his wild parties back in California, and the possibility of him doing some sort of drugs and driving without license and under the influence, and all those paparazzi pictures of him in various compromising positions with both men and women - and then, once Archie had realized the evil that Noriega was, maybe he'd come running back to his true friends, the ones who had supported him no matter what, and perhaps, just as a tiny possibility, he would realized as well that David had always been by his side, waiting and hoping for a chance to prove that his heart belonged to Archie.
It was his living fantasy that kept him sane, that helped him sleep at nights when nightmares of what Archie could be doing with Noriega. David knew his life had been reduced to a single succession of hopes being crashed by reality, but he was glad to accept it so long as he could dream that Noriega would leave Tulsa for good - and without Archie hanging off his arm.
When Saturday came, David didn't want to get out of bed. His alarm clock went off at seven thirty, just like any other day of the week, but he rolled in bed and reached out and pushed on the snooze button. He didn't want to be awake just yet, and the burning hangover he was sporting - which he realized when he tried to crack one eye open and it fucking hurt to see the light - made him swear off drinking forever. He had been spending his nights alone in his apartment, where he was headed right after work because he couldn't stand hanging out with his friends when Noriega was around, and Noriega was always around. Therefore, he had taken to lying on his couch with a bottle of his old friend Jack Daniel's and old movies in black and white that he had previously muted.
The night before he had cried for four times in a row while watching Bogart letting go of Bergman in Casablanca. And it had been the cherry on top of the cake of the worst week in his life, so he had decided to go to bed with another bottle of Jack Daniel's. When David looked at the side of the bed, he found it almost empty. Shaking his head, he sighed. He needed to rein over his life once again, but he had the feeling that he wouldn't be able to do so until a certain foreign singer packed up his bags and went back to his sunny California paradise.
His cell phone blared on top of his nightstand. He glared at it, wondering how it had made it there. Maybe he had taken it with him the night before, but all he remembered from his drunken stupor were pieces and bits of moments, like watching the movie and crying and drinking in bed. David sat up on the bed and stretched out to take it. His fingers were trembling slightly, and he almost missed the phone. With a frown, David grabbed it finally and checked the display. It was Neal.
"Tell me you have a good reason to call me at this goddamn hour in the morning, Tiemann," David spat as a greeting.
"Someone's grumpy today," Neal joked. When David grunted in response, his friend seemed to sober up. "Listen, I know it's really late to tell you this, but I tried to call you yesterday, and since you disappeared so soon I thought maybe you weren't feeling well and-"
"Can you get to the point, Neal?" David cut him, exasperated. Neal could look like a tough man, with all his tattoos and his cigarettes, and he certainly didn't talk much - but only to strangers. With his friends, Neal was a true chatterbox.
"-whatever, man, you're a spoilsports," Neal complained. "Anyway, Andy and I can't go pick you guys up, my battery car kinda died."
"What the hell, Tiemann?" David grunted again. "And you tell me this now? You have some balls, knowing the only reason I haven't been using my car is because-"
"-you don't have money to fill the tank, I know," Neal sighed at the other end of the line. "Listen, I'll pay for the gas, I swear. Just, I don't know, move your ass and pick us all up, please?"
David scratched his head for a second while he thought. He was usually the last one to be picked on their way to the music store downtown, their friend Bryan's very own Heart of Music, where Neal taught little children how to play the guitar like badasses on Saturday mornings. Neal and Andy made the rounds before getting there, where while the most tattooed man among them - David had less than half the number of tattoos Neal had - worked, the rest of the gang - Andy, Archie, David himself - would spend their free time wandering around the music store. Sometimes, if Bryan needed people to entertain his customers whilst they walked around the store, they'd fool around with the guitars and attract a couple of interested listeners who usually enjoyed Archie's pure voice. David had a powerful voice as well, grave and hoarse and downright engaging, but even with Andy being the singer of their little band and Archie not being a part of it, they still allowed the younger of them all to take the spotlight. David thought it was worth the sight of those bright eyes lightening up when little girls walked up to him to ask for an autograph.
"Dave?" Neal said through the phone. David realized he had spaced out, and promptly apologized. "It's okay, man; I'm used to people disconnecting from what I say from time to time. Anyway, going to pick us up or what?"
"I'll have to go to Archie's first, then your house and from there we'll go downtown. Give me half an hour, tops," he decided suddenly, the hand in his nape falling gently to his side. He wasn't going to allow anyone to come in between his best friend and him - he would have to remind Archie of the fun they had doing what they liked the most - music.
It was with a fresh goal in mind that David got out of bed after hanging up on Neal, and with a brand new strut that he walked to his shower, getting rid of all his clothes in the way.
Less than fifteen minutes later, David was exiting his apartment, the set of car keys dangling in his hand. He made it to his Ford and positioned himself behind the steering wheel, ready to become a new age Hoke Colburn. But when he stopped in front of Archie's house, something inside of him told him that it was going to be really different than what he had already planned it to be.
Danny Noriega standing at the door with a single red rose definitely complicated everything.
David wanted to groan out of frustration. Instead, he killed the engine and hopped out of the car with the full intention of proving Archie that Noriega was just another shallow celebrity seeking for a piece to complete their personal collection of conquests.
Archie was walking out of the house; David noticed the way his smile shone like a thousand fiery suns against the darkness of the façade. Archie was gorgeous, David thought with a small shiver.
"Shall we?" Noriega asked after greeting Archie with a sickeningly too long kiss.
"Oh, yes, I want to show you everything about here! On Saturdays we go to the music center and Bryan lets us tune his guitars and test his pianos!"
"Bryan?" Noriega questioned with a raised eyebrow, turning to Archie, who hooked his arm with Noriega's, diverting his attention from David.
"Bryan Jewett, you know, he's the owner of that store," he butted in, though he had the inkling that no one would pay him attention.
"Sounds like a plan!" Noriega continued, pointedly ignoring David. He leaned toward Archie again - Archie who was so freakingly tiny - and kissed the top of his head.
David had to suppress a pretty obvious gag before masking it with a fake, plastic smile, and guiding them to the car waiting for the three of them. The ride to Neal's house, which he shared with Andy, was spent praising the virtues Danny Noriega possessed and that David noticed, as he counted inwardly, that he lacked. Things didn't look up for him when the rest of his friends hopped in the car, because Andy chose to share the back seat with the couple and he squashed Archie against Noriega in his haste to fasten his seatbelt. As if he needed the excuse, David thought when he watched, through the rearview mirror, the singer throwing an arm around Archie's shoulders and pulling him closer.
David wished he would close his eyes, but since it was out of the question he decided to focus on the road and the red lights the city threw his way, making him stop every few minutes and endure a sickening experience of loving displays. On the passenger's seat, Neal was holding back his laughter, David could tell, but it was to no avail. Whenever Noriega said anything - and the fucking man just wouldn't stop - everyone agreed and nodded and paid him the attention Noriega was most surely used to having, and Neal took advantage of the situation to let out one giggle, or one laugh, whenever he could. David gave up on glaring at him when he almost ran through his third red light in a row.
David was ready to hang himself by the time the five of them reached the music center. He actually sighed happily when Noriega shut up to take in the massive building in the middle of one of the most important streets in Tulsa.
"Didn't know you had such things here," he muttered. David could tell there was awe in his voice.
"What, did you think us poor country people wouldn't know how to build tall buildings?" Andy mocked, winking at Archie. Everyone snickered when Noriega blushed.
"Hey, I haven't said that!" he tried to counteract, but even Archie dissolved in giggles at his outburst, and in the end Noriega imitated them. The only one who wasn't laughing at all was David, with his gaze set forward, pointedly ignoring the mirth inside his car. He felt deflated and lost.
"You'll see, when you come to Los Angeles," Noriega said when he regained his composure. "You'll see the tallest buildings you've ever seen."
"You're taking us to Los Angeles?" Andy retorted with a high pitched squeal. It was no secret to his friends that one of his dreams was to live in the City of Angels.
"Of course!" Noriega nodded vigorously. "You can all come visit when I come back home. I'll make sure to have enough food in the fridge."
"You mean, you'll make sure to call your two assistants so they can order someone to fill your fridge for you," Archie chastised him at the same time as he patted him affectionately in the arm.
"That too," Noriega admitted, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand. The other was still tangled with Archie's in between their laps. David felt the nausea rising again in his throat, bile and bitter anger piling up. He bit his tongue to remain silent and stopped quickly in front of the front door.
"Listen, you go now," he said evenly. No one seemed to mind him speaking, so he continued. "I have to park, and it's obvious there's no free spot around here, so there's no point in you tagging along when you could be enjoying music until I get there."
Under the excuse of going to find somewhere to park, David left them there and turned the following corner, where an available parking spot promptly glared at him. As he put to good use his knowledge of the common parking rules, he let his mind wander to places where he shouldn't have allowed it to. He was aware that, if he studied the situation from an objective point of view, Danny Noriega was pretty much the best thing to ever happen to Archie. But David was biased and stubborn as all hell, so he refused to believe that. He wanted to think that he would be a much better option - he knew Archie inside and outside, he could tell when his friend was angry or sad or annoyed or bored with just a glance at the way he moved his hands. But life was never fair, David knew that was well, and therefore he didn't stand a chance against the most loved - and envied - celebrity around.
When he considered that his car was perfectly parked, David killed the engine, but he didn't exit the vehicle. Instead, he remained inside, wrists resting on top of the abused leather of the steering wheel. His thoughts were running wildly in his mind, like crazed dancers in a high. His hatred for Danny Noriega was unfounded; the singer hadn't done a thing to him except for existing, and David resented him just for that. He had the feeling that nothing would have ever happened if Noriega had never drawn that fucking date with him to raise money for charity. David resented Save The Children as well - who the hell did they think they were, supporting the hideous cover of a celebrity that had used them to get back in track with his fans? David had read somewhere that Noriega had lost his path, rumors of alcohol and drugs and general nastiness spreading around like gunpowder, and he found utterly disgusting that his trick to gain popularity not only had been successful, but also had gotten Noriega to meet one of the purest people walking the Earth.
Maybe David was a bit biased when Archie was concerned, but he couldn't care less. He wanted Archie for himself, even if he felt as if he would never grow the balls needed to tell Archie face to face, or through a letter. David had written countless songs about love and life and loss and regret, he knew what he was talking about. He knew about heartbreak and shyness. He knew about longing and brooding in solitude. All his heroes, the people he sang about, were brave and audacious - they spoke their minds most of the time. David wasn't like that at all, and that was why he liked singing about withdrawn emotions when no one would listen to him.
He frowned. The clock told him he had wasted too many precious minutes alone in his car, but he didn't feel the need to step out. If he did so, he'd be forced to face one of the realities he wasn't ready yet to confront. However, his mother had taught him to never shy away from problems, so he made up his mind. Whether he liked it or not, Archie was now living his personal version of a modern fucked up fairy tale, and David had been a shitty best friend just by having behaved the way he had those days. He sighed and opened the door, picking his messenger bag from the car floor and setting his feet on the dirty ground outside. He closed the door of his car with more force than necessary, and walked towards the building with just one idea in mind - he needed to show Archie that Noriega, just like every other vapid celebrity from Hollywood, was only another empty pretty face.
David entered the music center to the sounds of his boots' heels clicking on the floor and an all too familiar tune. Frowning in confusion, he searched for the source of the music and found it in the back of the store, where usually he and his friends played the songs they themselves wrote. A crowd had gathered around the small set of guitars. David approached the audience from behind, wondering why Andy might have deemed appropriate to play one of David's songs when David wasn't around. He pushed his way to the front row and had just made it halfway there when a voice he had been forced to hear for over a year crashed into him. Even though he didn't have to look, he reached the front row to see Danny Noriega sitting on a stool and playing one of David's songs on David's guitar - the one with AC engraved on it that Bryan kept in his store following David's own request, since he didn't want to misplace the only memory he had from his older brother, and God forbid it from being stolen in the ratty apartment he rented - with Andy accompanying him, serenading Archie as he sang lost his way from everything he swore he knew, a friend run away from start to finish though it never ends, in his mind he is blinded by all he sees that David himself had written for Archie.
He stood there through the whole song, as Noriega mumbled his way through the lyrics someone - probably Andy - had placed in front of him, close your eyes, just pretend the bullet isn't there, no surprise, no need to pretend that no one really cares, but in his eyes you will find the very best in me, what are you looking for? David closed his hands in tight fists as he listened to his own creation being butchered by someone who called himself an artist, when all he was could be resumed in a couple of words - an thief of ideas.
"Are you looking for something more? It's not me, it's not me," Noriega finished, his fingers plucking tentatively at the strings as he evidently sought for a way out of that stage. Everyone gathered around applauded when he retired his hand from the guitar. Everyone except David Cook.
David wasn't livid. He was numb, he couldn't feel anything. All he could see was Archie's face and his adoration radiating through every pore. Even if he wanted to scream that the song was his, David couldn't ignore the light in Archie's eyes.
"Dave," Archie called when the song ended, moving against the crowd that was clapping excitedly. "Dave, have you heard it? It was so incredible!"
"Yeah, yeah, I've heard it," David sighed. He stepped backwards, jerking away from Archie's touch. "Listen, Arch, I think you're going to need a ride back home. I don't feel all that well."
"Why? What's going on? We have just arrived, you have just arrived!" Archie seemed truly worried. "I'm going with you-"
"Nah, Archie, enjoy your morning. I'll see you at the karaoke tonight." David began to retreat. He didn't see Andy looking at him pitifully.
"But-"
"Goodbye, Arch," he tried to say in a firm voice, only to find with rising fear that it was breaking at the edges.
"Is this because of the song?" his friend asked, widening his eyes. "I should have known better, I'm so sorry, David, I should have said no when Danny talked about performing but had no song ready, and then Andy suggested your songs you kept in your guitar case and-"
"See you later, Archie," he muttered, finally turning around. He had no strength left to explain that it hadn't been only the song, it had also been the guitar, since it was the last vestige of a past that had died slowly in his hands, like sand falling little by little through the open spaces in between his fingers. David didn't wait for Archie to talk again; he kept walking, hoping that the trembling he felt in his limbs didn't show in his strut. He didn't realize he had been holding back his tears until he found himself alone inside his car, wiping them away with his thumb.
"Fuck, Arch," he muttered t himself as he started the car. "The things you do to me, and the things you make me do," he continued.
The trip back to his apartment was filled with angry thoughts and deep feelings being crushed and burned for all eternity in his soul. The moment to open his front door and get away from the world didn't seem soon enough, but somehow he managed to get by those endless moments before he could see his building in front of him. He parked carelessly and barely managed to lock his car, scraping to reach his door. He just wanted to crawl into a ball and cry himself to death.
Sprawled on his bed, David didn't even think of having lunch. He was lost in his mind, replaying the scene he had seen, the love that he had been able to feel there in Archie's stare. By the time he had to get ready for their weekly karaoke night, David's head ached almost as much as his heart.
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