Hers Chapter 1
Title: Hers
Pairing(s): David Cook/David Archuleta
Rating: PG to NC-17
Genre: AU
Disclaimer: The real-life characters do not belong to me, and the story is fictional.
Summary: David falls in love with someone he can't have, but what happens when that person wants him back?
Author's Notes: This fic was originally posted at cookleta from July 2008 to September 2008. :)
1
I. David Archuleta.
I didn’t let the tears fall until I closed the bedroom door behind me. I’d excused myself from the dinner table and raced upstairs as quietly and quickly as I could. I had to escape. I felt like I’d forgotten how to breathe. I grabbed the pillow to bury my face in it so that I could muffle the angry sobs wracking my body.
+
I never meant for things to get out of hand. Every last fragment of emotion that I was letting myself feel was against every rule and creed I was taught to believe.
I had always been certain of who I thought I was - at least, who I was supposed to be. I was the shy and well-mannered child who grew up to be the shy and well-mannered teenager who could do no wrong. There were some who compared me to a robot programmed to be the perfect kid, but I was content with the way I was, despite the constant, nagging fear of going beyond the many boundaries that were set for me. I preferred seeing movies to going to clubs. I did my homework first thing after school. I never complained when I had to look after my siblings. And as much as it embarrassed me to death to hear the string of compliments that came as the consequences of my actions, I liked the effect it had on my parents. It was like an addiction. Seeing their proud faces made me want to never get off the paved road that was my life.
The first crack through my foundation appeared almost a year ago, when I noticed that several of the girls I was friends with at school were poring over magazines instead of talking to the rest of the lunch table and suddenly sporting the same orange rubber bands around their wrists.
“What are you guys so excited about?” I asked casually one day to the relief of my guy friends, who had also been dying to know the reason behind the endless fits of giggles.
“Oh, we’re just being fan girls,” one of the girls, Sarah, answered back in her usual sing-song voice. Seeing my confused expression, she laughed and pushed a magazine toward me. “Look.”
“Who’s this?”
Sarah stared back at me as if I had grown an extra head. “Are you serious? It’s David Cook! His single is like number one right now!”
I turned my gaze back down to the magazine spread, focusing on the unfamiliar but friendly face smiling back.
“Hmm, I don’t think I’ve ever heard his music.”
“Really?” Sarah still seemed incredulous. “Well you should check it out. You might like it.”
She was right.
I had always loved music and had my musical influences, but becoming a total, full-out fan boy was something completely new. A week and eighty-three YouTube videos later, I found myself listening to David Cook’s music day and night. Apart from his talent, I began to admire this man who was the complete opposite of me. He managed to be passionate about his work yet laid-back. He could by all means be my friend’s older brother or that one guy on the block, because he flaunted neither his stardom nor success. He was the one who made me doubt whether or not I truly wanted to live my life the way it was, without daring to be different.
I got my answer soon enough, and with it I received an unexpected surprise that seemed more like a nightmare. After waking up from a dream in which David Cook had me up against a wall and kissing me, I realized, to my own horror, that what I was feeling was more than simple admiration.
That was when my entire world turned upside down.
My mind began to spin so quickly that I couldn’t keep up with my own thoughts. Confusion clouded my lucidity and I felt like I was being sucked into a black hole and couldn’t stop myself. I didn’t know how to behave around my family and friends anymore, because it seemed like one word or gesture would give away my secret at their utter disgust. All I could do was to act as if nothing was out of the ordinary, and that’s how it was for one full, agonizing year.
+
I ran the tip of my finger down the side of the CDs that had accumulated on my desk. I stared long and hard at the glossy, autographed program that I had gotten at his concert with Amber, justifying my excitement by saying that I was only there as a brother accompanying his little sister.
I laughed at the impossibility of it all. Wiping my eyes with the back of my hand, I wanted so badly to scream at the top of my lungs at whoever had decided to condone this cruel twist of fate.
It had started with Amber all but tumbling into my room just before dinner, announcing that Jaidyn, our oldest sister, had called from New York. She was our brave sister who had left Murray for an intimidating city to write for Rolling Stone.
“Dave, guess what?” Amber exclaimed, her light hair in a tangled mess from running through the house.
“What?” I answered, smiling as I reached out to tidy up her curls.
“Jaidyn has a boyfriend!”
“Really?” I raised my eyebrow. It was hard to believe, since Jaidyn was a dedicated workaholic.
“Yeah and you will never believe who the guy is!”
“Oh? Who is it?”
“Guess!” Amber insisted.
“I don’t know. Christian Bale?” I asked, throwing out the first popular male actor I could think of.
“Close! Well, kind of,” my sister giggled.
“What?”
“He’s way famous too!”
My eyebrows climbed even higher. “A celebrity?”
“Not just any celebrity. Dave, come on. Who do we totally love right now?”
A thought instantly crossed my mind but I ignored it. I wanted to cast it away. Sure, Jaidyn met numerous musicians for interviews but what were the chances? It couldn’t be him. It couldn’t possibly…
“I give up,” I mumbled, bracing myself.
“David Cook, silly!” Amber gushed, rolling her eyes at my incompetent guessing. “I can’t believe it! Oh my gosh, I have to call so many people!”
And there it was in the blink of an eye. Another nightmare.
I couldn’t believe my own luck.
II. David Cook.
There are some things that never change, and one of them is the feeling I get when I step outside after a concert to find a line of fans so long that I have to squint to see the end of it. I am always in awe that this many people go through the trouble of waiting, crowded up against a railing, just to see me. Sometimes I wonder if it’s all one very long, incredible dream. I was especially convinced that none of it was real when I saw t-shirts with my face on them for the first time. But after awhile, I was just grateful that they would take time out of their day to actually customize a shirt to wear to my concert.
I’m pretty good with faces too, which means that I can recall those super enthusiastic fans that have asked me out, proposed and even declared that they would have my kids. And again, I return to my bus and ask my manager to pinch my cheek.
There has been one particular person who has been planted in my mind for the past few months, however, for a completely different reason. I remember making my way down the line of fans after a show in Utah doing the usual thing and glancing up to look at the people who were still waiting.
And seeing him.
Having guys at my concerts wasn’t something too unusual, but they were normally dads accompanying their daughters or guys who had been dragged along by their girlfriends. He didn’t look older than eighteen so he couldn’t be the former, but I didn’t see a girlfriend he was holding the camera and concert souvenirs for either. Slowly but steadily I approached the spot where he was standing, making small talk with the fans who had nice compliments to offer. Being a late night in February, there wasn’t much light to help me other than the street lamps outside the venue, but once I got closer my eyes widened.
He was gorgeous.
“Um, you were really great tonight,” I could hear him say to me, his mouth forming a sheepish smile.
I kept my eyes on him as I signed his program, noticing the way his dark eyelashes contrasted with his pale skin. I wanted to reach out and touch his cheek to see if it was as soft as it looked.
“Thanks so much,” I replied, handing him the autographed booklet and making sure that our eyes met as I did so.
“David, can I take a picture with you?” asked a perky voice, bringing my attention back to what I had been doing before I had become totally, most inappropriately smitten.
“Sure,” I said, smiling at the curly-haired girl looking back up at me expectantly.
“David, here’s the camera.”
I watched as the girl handed the dark-haired boy her camera. I figured he was her brother. Well, at least I knew his name. The rest of the night was a blur. My eyes frantically searched for him on the walk back to the buses. To my utter disappointment, it was a futile attempt. As our buses left the parking lot, I sat glumly on my bed, consoling myself that it was useless to think about him any longer, considering that I would most likely never see him again.
+
My cell phone rang as soon as I walked out of the L.A. studio. I smiled when I saw the name flashing on the screen.
“Hey,” I answered, grateful for a break from a day spent with a bunch of producers.
“Hey,” mirrored the voice on the other line, “Guess what, big guy?”
“What?”
“I called my family.”
“You did? Today?”
“Yeah. They were pretty excited. Well, my sisters were at least.”
“Hey, it’s a start,” I joked.
“So I guess it’s an okay from my parents for us to invite them to the concert this weekend.”
“Awesome. When are you flying in?”
“Probably Thursday night.”
“Okay, call me as soon as your plane lands.”
“Don’t worry, I will. Bye, David.”
“’Night, Jaidyn.”
By the time I hung up the cell, I was in my car ready to get out of the parking lot and head home. I set the phone down on the passenger seat, nervous for the first time in a long time that I was meeting my girlfriend’s parents. It was like high school and college all over again.
My tour had started in Nevada back in February, and was ending after a three-month run in Los Angeles this Saturday, and I’d figured that I could invite her parents, who lived in Utah. She would fly in from New York where she worked so we could finally meet each other. Of course, it would’ve been a better idea to have invited them to the concert I had in Salt Lake City, but that was near the beginning of the tour and I hadn’t met Jaidyn yet.
I closed my eyes as guilt washed over me. This happened every time I recalled the moment I met Jaidyn, because I knew exactly why I had fallen for her.
She looked exactly like him.
By March, I was touring on the east coast, enjoying the hustle and bustle of the closely knit states. As we headed into New York, my manager warned me that I had a long line of interviews waiting for magazines, radio stations and television. I shrugged it off, expecting the usual.
I nearly choked when the writer from Rolling Stone walked onto my bus for an interview a few hours before the concert. I did a double-take. She was the spitting image of the boy I hadn’t been able to get out of my head. She had the same dark hair, porcelain skin, and expressive eyes. The only difference seemed to be that, despite a shy smile, she was anything but timid, greeting me as if we had known each other for a long time.
She tossed me her first question. Instead of answering her, I asked what her name was.
After giving me a quizzical look, she obliged, “It’s Jaidyn Archuleta. Now if you don’t mind, can we talk about you, Mr. Cook?”
I grinned and nodded. Within five minutes I was asking her to call me David, and by the time she stood up to leave, I was asking for her number. I still have trouble dealing with the notion that none of what is happening is fair for Jaidyn, but I figured it would be the best way to forget.
What I didn’t know that soon this feeble consolation would come crashing down.
Pairing(s): David Cook/David Archuleta
Rating: PG to NC-17
Genre: AU
Disclaimer: The real-life characters do not belong to me, and the story is fictional.
Summary: David falls in love with someone he can't have, but what happens when that person wants him back?
Author's Notes: This fic was originally posted at cookleta from July 2008 to September 2008. :)
1
I. David Archuleta.
I didn’t let the tears fall until I closed the bedroom door behind me. I’d excused myself from the dinner table and raced upstairs as quietly and quickly as I could. I had to escape. I felt like I’d forgotten how to breathe. I grabbed the pillow to bury my face in it so that I could muffle the angry sobs wracking my body.
+
I never meant for things to get out of hand. Every last fragment of emotion that I was letting myself feel was against every rule and creed I was taught to believe.
I had always been certain of who I thought I was - at least, who I was supposed to be. I was the shy and well-mannered child who grew up to be the shy and well-mannered teenager who could do no wrong. There were some who compared me to a robot programmed to be the perfect kid, but I was content with the way I was, despite the constant, nagging fear of going beyond the many boundaries that were set for me. I preferred seeing movies to going to clubs. I did my homework first thing after school. I never complained when I had to look after my siblings. And as much as it embarrassed me to death to hear the string of compliments that came as the consequences of my actions, I liked the effect it had on my parents. It was like an addiction. Seeing their proud faces made me want to never get off the paved road that was my life.
The first crack through my foundation appeared almost a year ago, when I noticed that several of the girls I was friends with at school were poring over magazines instead of talking to the rest of the lunch table and suddenly sporting the same orange rubber bands around their wrists.
“What are you guys so excited about?” I asked casually one day to the relief of my guy friends, who had also been dying to know the reason behind the endless fits of giggles.
“Oh, we’re just being fan girls,” one of the girls, Sarah, answered back in her usual sing-song voice. Seeing my confused expression, she laughed and pushed a magazine toward me. “Look.”
“Who’s this?”
Sarah stared back at me as if I had grown an extra head. “Are you serious? It’s David Cook! His single is like number one right now!”
I turned my gaze back down to the magazine spread, focusing on the unfamiliar but friendly face smiling back.
“Hmm, I don’t think I’ve ever heard his music.”
“Really?” Sarah still seemed incredulous. “Well you should check it out. You might like it.”
She was right.
I had always loved music and had my musical influences, but becoming a total, full-out fan boy was something completely new. A week and eighty-three YouTube videos later, I found myself listening to David Cook’s music day and night. Apart from his talent, I began to admire this man who was the complete opposite of me. He managed to be passionate about his work yet laid-back. He could by all means be my friend’s older brother or that one guy on the block, because he flaunted neither his stardom nor success. He was the one who made me doubt whether or not I truly wanted to live my life the way it was, without daring to be different.
I got my answer soon enough, and with it I received an unexpected surprise that seemed more like a nightmare. After waking up from a dream in which David Cook had me up against a wall and kissing me, I realized, to my own horror, that what I was feeling was more than simple admiration.
That was when my entire world turned upside down.
My mind began to spin so quickly that I couldn’t keep up with my own thoughts. Confusion clouded my lucidity and I felt like I was being sucked into a black hole and couldn’t stop myself. I didn’t know how to behave around my family and friends anymore, because it seemed like one word or gesture would give away my secret at their utter disgust. All I could do was to act as if nothing was out of the ordinary, and that’s how it was for one full, agonizing year.
+
I ran the tip of my finger down the side of the CDs that had accumulated on my desk. I stared long and hard at the glossy, autographed program that I had gotten at his concert with Amber, justifying my excitement by saying that I was only there as a brother accompanying his little sister.
I laughed at the impossibility of it all. Wiping my eyes with the back of my hand, I wanted so badly to scream at the top of my lungs at whoever had decided to condone this cruel twist of fate.
It had started with Amber all but tumbling into my room just before dinner, announcing that Jaidyn, our oldest sister, had called from New York. She was our brave sister who had left Murray for an intimidating city to write for Rolling Stone.
“Dave, guess what?” Amber exclaimed, her light hair in a tangled mess from running through the house.
“What?” I answered, smiling as I reached out to tidy up her curls.
“Jaidyn has a boyfriend!”
“Really?” I raised my eyebrow. It was hard to believe, since Jaidyn was a dedicated workaholic.
“Yeah and you will never believe who the guy is!”
“Oh? Who is it?”
“Guess!” Amber insisted.
“I don’t know. Christian Bale?” I asked, throwing out the first popular male actor I could think of.
“Close! Well, kind of,” my sister giggled.
“What?”
“He’s way famous too!”
My eyebrows climbed even higher. “A celebrity?”
“Not just any celebrity. Dave, come on. Who do we totally love right now?”
A thought instantly crossed my mind but I ignored it. I wanted to cast it away. Sure, Jaidyn met numerous musicians for interviews but what were the chances? It couldn’t be him. It couldn’t possibly…
“I give up,” I mumbled, bracing myself.
“David Cook, silly!” Amber gushed, rolling her eyes at my incompetent guessing. “I can’t believe it! Oh my gosh, I have to call so many people!”
And there it was in the blink of an eye. Another nightmare.
I couldn’t believe my own luck.
II. David Cook.
There are some things that never change, and one of them is the feeling I get when I step outside after a concert to find a line of fans so long that I have to squint to see the end of it. I am always in awe that this many people go through the trouble of waiting, crowded up against a railing, just to see me. Sometimes I wonder if it’s all one very long, incredible dream. I was especially convinced that none of it was real when I saw t-shirts with my face on them for the first time. But after awhile, I was just grateful that they would take time out of their day to actually customize a shirt to wear to my concert.
I’m pretty good with faces too, which means that I can recall those super enthusiastic fans that have asked me out, proposed and even declared that they would have my kids. And again, I return to my bus and ask my manager to pinch my cheek.
There has been one particular person who has been planted in my mind for the past few months, however, for a completely different reason. I remember making my way down the line of fans after a show in Utah doing the usual thing and glancing up to look at the people who were still waiting.
And seeing him.
Having guys at my concerts wasn’t something too unusual, but they were normally dads accompanying their daughters or guys who had been dragged along by their girlfriends. He didn’t look older than eighteen so he couldn’t be the former, but I didn’t see a girlfriend he was holding the camera and concert souvenirs for either. Slowly but steadily I approached the spot where he was standing, making small talk with the fans who had nice compliments to offer. Being a late night in February, there wasn’t much light to help me other than the street lamps outside the venue, but once I got closer my eyes widened.
He was gorgeous.
“Um, you were really great tonight,” I could hear him say to me, his mouth forming a sheepish smile.
I kept my eyes on him as I signed his program, noticing the way his dark eyelashes contrasted with his pale skin. I wanted to reach out and touch his cheek to see if it was as soft as it looked.
“Thanks so much,” I replied, handing him the autographed booklet and making sure that our eyes met as I did so.
“David, can I take a picture with you?” asked a perky voice, bringing my attention back to what I had been doing before I had become totally, most inappropriately smitten.
“Sure,” I said, smiling at the curly-haired girl looking back up at me expectantly.
“David, here’s the camera.”
I watched as the girl handed the dark-haired boy her camera. I figured he was her brother. Well, at least I knew his name. The rest of the night was a blur. My eyes frantically searched for him on the walk back to the buses. To my utter disappointment, it was a futile attempt. As our buses left the parking lot, I sat glumly on my bed, consoling myself that it was useless to think about him any longer, considering that I would most likely never see him again.
+
My cell phone rang as soon as I walked out of the L.A. studio. I smiled when I saw the name flashing on the screen.
“Hey,” I answered, grateful for a break from a day spent with a bunch of producers.
“Hey,” mirrored the voice on the other line, “Guess what, big guy?”
“What?”
“I called my family.”
“You did? Today?”
“Yeah. They were pretty excited. Well, my sisters were at least.”
“Hey, it’s a start,” I joked.
“So I guess it’s an okay from my parents for us to invite them to the concert this weekend.”
“Awesome. When are you flying in?”
“Probably Thursday night.”
“Okay, call me as soon as your plane lands.”
“Don’t worry, I will. Bye, David.”
“’Night, Jaidyn.”
By the time I hung up the cell, I was in my car ready to get out of the parking lot and head home. I set the phone down on the passenger seat, nervous for the first time in a long time that I was meeting my girlfriend’s parents. It was like high school and college all over again.
My tour had started in Nevada back in February, and was ending after a three-month run in Los Angeles this Saturday, and I’d figured that I could invite her parents, who lived in Utah. She would fly in from New York where she worked so we could finally meet each other. Of course, it would’ve been a better idea to have invited them to the concert I had in Salt Lake City, but that was near the beginning of the tour and I hadn’t met Jaidyn yet.
I closed my eyes as guilt washed over me. This happened every time I recalled the moment I met Jaidyn, because I knew exactly why I had fallen for her.
She looked exactly like him.
By March, I was touring on the east coast, enjoying the hustle and bustle of the closely knit states. As we headed into New York, my manager warned me that I had a long line of interviews waiting for magazines, radio stations and television. I shrugged it off, expecting the usual.
I nearly choked when the writer from Rolling Stone walked onto my bus for an interview a few hours before the concert. I did a double-take. She was the spitting image of the boy I hadn’t been able to get out of my head. She had the same dark hair, porcelain skin, and expressive eyes. The only difference seemed to be that, despite a shy smile, she was anything but timid, greeting me as if we had known each other for a long time.
She tossed me her first question. Instead of answering her, I asked what her name was.
After giving me a quizzical look, she obliged, “It’s Jaidyn Archuleta. Now if you don’t mind, can we talk about you, Mr. Cook?”
I grinned and nodded. Within five minutes I was asking her to call me David, and by the time she stood up to leave, I was asking for her number. I still have trouble dealing with the notion that none of what is happening is fair for Jaidyn, but I figured it would be the best way to forget.
What I didn’t know that soon this feeble consolation would come crashing down.