let the music fade. [standalone]
TITLE: Let the music fade.
AUTHOR: therecordskipsx
RATING: So PG it’s sickening, guys.
POV: 3rd-ish.
PAIRING: Hayley Williams/Ryan Kirkland (Between The Trees)
SUMMARY: Complete fluff involving red lights and dandelions.
DISCLAIMER: I don’t think this really happened, but you can draw your own conclusions.
A/N: Under the cut, bbys.
AN: So, okay. I swore I wouldn’t do any het unless it was Hayley/Josh (my ~sekrit Paramore OTP), but then I was listening to these two songs (which are provided below for your listening pleasure) and the parallel between the lyrics made my brain go, "OOH! OOH!" and wiggle around and it demanded this little story be written.
It will make the most sense under the following conditions:
a) you are aware of the To Write Love On Her Arms story, at least enough to know who Jamie and Renée are, and to realize that some of the stuff in quotes is from the story. If you have never read it, I recommend that you go and do it right now, because it is incredible. /end obsession.
b) you know who Ryan and Wes are, because otherwise you might be confused (you can find out at their myspace *points to pairing*).
c) you have heard the songs (which are down there for you to download. YOU HAVE NO EXCUSE!)
///
Lock the doors, ‘cause I'd like to capture this voice that came to me tonight, so everyone will have a choice. And under red lights, I'll show myself it wasn't forged. We're at war; we live like this.
Paramore - We Are Broken
;;;
We are in each others arms just like a movie scene, and as we're leaning in the light decides to turn green. Me and you together, this is getting better, just butterflies won't do. I don't want just red lights, I want more of these nights, ‘cause baby I love you.
Between The Trees - White Lines and Red Lights
They meet because they were meant to. It’s not like a scene from a movie; it’s more like the end credits, that fade-to-black moment before the music dies.
Ryan’s known Renée since before, before Jamie and Lauren and David and rock star rehab. Ryan’s been writing songs about her, songs about hope and healing, the kind of song that Jamie wrote about, the words that he remembers through everything.
(“I would rather write her a song, because songs don't wait to resolve, and because songs mean so much to her. Stories wait for endings, but songs are brave things bold enough to sing when all they know is darkness.”)
So, no, it isn’t a surprise when they meet, not when there’s already so many people moving to change. Jamie just says, “This is Hayley,” and she’s this tiny red-headed girl wearing one of the shirts, and Ryan notices the black Sharpie writing up and down her arm, and in that instant, he knows she understands everything.
///
Renée is something he fought to understand, this enigma of broken and lonely, someone he wanted to help. Someone he wanted to love. It took him a while to realize that she wasn’t just the pretty girl at church.
Then there’s the week, Renée’s rock star rehab, “lots of fun, too much Starbucks and way too many cigarettes,” and he’s afraid for a while that he’s never going to want to love anyone again, that maybe when Renée comes home she won’t be Renée anymore.
He writes songs for her, about her, for everyone. He thinks there’s too many, that she’ll be embarrassed or somehow ashamed of her life held up for everyone to see; his voice, but not really his words. Really, they’re her words. Later, after a stretch of time he doesn’t remember much of, she’ll tell him, tell everyone, that she’s glad her pain has a purpose.
But mostly, he’s afraid, afraid he’s never going to love again, never going to want to.
And then Jamie says, “This is Hayley.”
///
He wonders if there’s supposed to be a moment while they’re sprawled outside on the grass talking, while he’s watching her sitting Indian-style and picking dandelions out of the grass with small, pale fingers and spreading them in her lap, if there’s supposed to be a moment when he feels it settle deep in his bones.
He picks a chord and sings, “A little love, a little love is all it takes”, and sees her smile, rubbing the pollen off the dandelions and staining her fingers yellow, and she says “Love is a many splendored thing,” and falls backwards into the grass, hair spread out and glistening, laughing at the sky.
Maybe this is that moment, just in slow motion, building up underneath his skin, and he thinks of Renée, safe, somewhere with someone and beautiful.
He falls back beside her.
///
Wes laughs and elbows him in the ribs, pointing an accusing finger and mocking a glare. “So, who is she?” he says, and Ryan flicks him in the forehead and says, “None of your business. Hands off.”
Wes rolls his eyes. “Come on, man,” in a tone that implies that he’s offended that the idea even crossed Ryan’s mind, and then he says, “No, no. I just meant. She’s pretty. You like her?”
He rubs his hands together and leans his hip against the wall, and Wes sighs. “Come the fuck on. I want to know.”
So finally, he stands up a little straighter and says, “Yeah, I do,” and Wes nods, grins.
“I’m awesome.”
“Sure you are,” he mutters, reaching out to mess the strands of Wes’ hair between his fingers. “I’ll see you later.” He turns and starts walking over to her, far off and talking to Josh, and Wes shouts it at him from way back, “Good luck!”
///
He asks her if maybe, some time, she’d like to go out. You know. A movie? She throws her hair back and laughs, eyes twinkling.
“Of course,” she says, and reaches over to lock her arm through the crook of his elbow, shouting Josh’s name until he uncovers his ears and walks back over, smiling huge. “Let’s go find everyone!”
And she drags them off at full speed to find whoever ‘everyone’ is, and for such a tiny girl she’s sure strong.
He doesn’t stop smiling for the rest of the day.
///
He calls her one night, and he can almost hear the ridiculous long distance charge cha-chinging through the wires, but he ignores it in favour of hearing her voice.
She says she’s working on a song, one she hasn’t showed the boys yet. She says it’s about hope, and he tells her he knows what that’s like.
He asks her if she could sing it to him. He misses her voice, and he wants to imagine she’s here. She says the song isn’t finished, there’s something missing, something she can’t place. He says please. She caves. She sings just a few lines, “We are broken, what must we do to restore our innocence, and all the promise we adored?”
When he hangs up the phone, he grabs a pen and scrawls on a loose sheet of paper, you are the brightest star, and I’m in love with who you are.
///
He counts the days, but after the fact, the number slips his mind like sand through his fingers, and he lets it float away. They’re driving in this shitty car he’s had since way before anything, handed down from his dad, rust and all, and they’re just…driving. They aren’t sure where they’re going. They aren’t sure it matters.
It’s dark, only the occasional car on the road, so when they get to a stop light it’s like waiting for no one, and he drums his fingers on the wheel, impatient for reasons he can’t quite place.
She leans over and puts her hand on his arm, and he goes still all over, and when he turns his head she’s right there, right up close, and they’re kissing.
He forgets where they are until someone honks the horn behind him, and the light is green, and she’s laughing and covering her mouth and saying, “Go!” and the sound echoes and bounces through the car, like bells, and he stomps on the gas.
He learns to appreciate the value of red lights.
///
She calls him the next day from wherever she is.
“I finished it!” she says, and he can hear her fluttering the paper around, hear the excitement tingeing her voice.
He smiles into the phone and reaches for a pen, scribbling and filling in spaces he hadn’t known existed.
“Sing it for me,” he says, pen flying across the page (“Late night, driving home together, and at red lights, we press our lips together”).
And she does.
AUTHOR: therecordskipsx
RATING: So PG it’s sickening, guys.
POV: 3rd-ish.
PAIRING: Hayley Williams/Ryan Kirkland (Between The Trees)
SUMMARY: Complete fluff involving red lights and dandelions.
DISCLAIMER: I don’t think this really happened, but you can draw your own conclusions.
A/N: Under the cut, bbys.
AN: So, okay. I swore I wouldn’t do any het unless it was Hayley/Josh (my ~sekrit Paramore OTP), but then I was listening to these two songs (which are provided below for your listening pleasure) and the parallel between the lyrics made my brain go, "OOH! OOH!" and wiggle around and it demanded this little story be written.
It will make the most sense under the following conditions:
a) you are aware of the To Write Love On Her Arms story, at least enough to know who Jamie and Renée are, and to realize that some of the stuff in quotes is from the story. If you have never read it, I recommend that you go and do it right now, because it is incredible. /end obsession.
b) you know who Ryan and Wes are, because otherwise you might be confused (you can find out at their myspace *points to pairing*).
c) you have heard the songs (which are down there for you to download. YOU HAVE NO EXCUSE!)
///
Lock the doors, ‘cause I'd like to capture this voice that came to me tonight, so everyone will have a choice. And under red lights, I'll show myself it wasn't forged. We're at war; we live like this.
Paramore - We Are Broken
;;;
We are in each others arms just like a movie scene, and as we're leaning in the light decides to turn green. Me and you together, this is getting better, just butterflies won't do. I don't want just red lights, I want more of these nights, ‘cause baby I love you.
Between The Trees - White Lines and Red Lights
They meet because they were meant to. It’s not like a scene from a movie; it’s more like the end credits, that fade-to-black moment before the music dies.
Ryan’s known Renée since before, before Jamie and Lauren and David and rock star rehab. Ryan’s been writing songs about her, songs about hope and healing, the kind of song that Jamie wrote about, the words that he remembers through everything.
(“I would rather write her a song, because songs don't wait to resolve, and because songs mean so much to her. Stories wait for endings, but songs are brave things bold enough to sing when all they know is darkness.”)
So, no, it isn’t a surprise when they meet, not when there’s already so many people moving to change. Jamie just says, “This is Hayley,” and she’s this tiny red-headed girl wearing one of the shirts, and Ryan notices the black Sharpie writing up and down her arm, and in that instant, he knows she understands everything.
///
Renée is something he fought to understand, this enigma of broken and lonely, someone he wanted to help. Someone he wanted to love. It took him a while to realize that she wasn’t just the pretty girl at church.
Then there’s the week, Renée’s rock star rehab, “lots of fun, too much Starbucks and way too many cigarettes,” and he’s afraid for a while that he’s never going to want to love anyone again, that maybe when Renée comes home she won’t be Renée anymore.
He writes songs for her, about her, for everyone. He thinks there’s too many, that she’ll be embarrassed or somehow ashamed of her life held up for everyone to see; his voice, but not really his words. Really, they’re her words. Later, after a stretch of time he doesn’t remember much of, she’ll tell him, tell everyone, that she’s glad her pain has a purpose.
But mostly, he’s afraid, afraid he’s never going to love again, never going to want to.
And then Jamie says, “This is Hayley.”
///
He wonders if there’s supposed to be a moment while they’re sprawled outside on the grass talking, while he’s watching her sitting Indian-style and picking dandelions out of the grass with small, pale fingers and spreading them in her lap, if there’s supposed to be a moment when he feels it settle deep in his bones.
He picks a chord and sings, “A little love, a little love is all it takes”, and sees her smile, rubbing the pollen off the dandelions and staining her fingers yellow, and she says “Love is a many splendored thing,” and falls backwards into the grass, hair spread out and glistening, laughing at the sky.
Maybe this is that moment, just in slow motion, building up underneath his skin, and he thinks of Renée, safe, somewhere with someone and beautiful.
He falls back beside her.
///
Wes laughs and elbows him in the ribs, pointing an accusing finger and mocking a glare. “So, who is she?” he says, and Ryan flicks him in the forehead and says, “None of your business. Hands off.”
Wes rolls his eyes. “Come on, man,” in a tone that implies that he’s offended that the idea even crossed Ryan’s mind, and then he says, “No, no. I just meant. She’s pretty. You like her?”
He rubs his hands together and leans his hip against the wall, and Wes sighs. “Come the fuck on. I want to know.”
So finally, he stands up a little straighter and says, “Yeah, I do,” and Wes nods, grins.
“I’m awesome.”
“Sure you are,” he mutters, reaching out to mess the strands of Wes’ hair between his fingers. “I’ll see you later.” He turns and starts walking over to her, far off and talking to Josh, and Wes shouts it at him from way back, “Good luck!”
///
He asks her if maybe, some time, she’d like to go out. You know. A movie? She throws her hair back and laughs, eyes twinkling.
“Of course,” she says, and reaches over to lock her arm through the crook of his elbow, shouting Josh’s name until he uncovers his ears and walks back over, smiling huge. “Let’s go find everyone!”
And she drags them off at full speed to find whoever ‘everyone’ is, and for such a tiny girl she’s sure strong.
He doesn’t stop smiling for the rest of the day.
///
He calls her one night, and he can almost hear the ridiculous long distance charge cha-chinging through the wires, but he ignores it in favour of hearing her voice.
She says she’s working on a song, one she hasn’t showed the boys yet. She says it’s about hope, and he tells her he knows what that’s like.
He asks her if she could sing it to him. He misses her voice, and he wants to imagine she’s here. She says the song isn’t finished, there’s something missing, something she can’t place. He says please. She caves. She sings just a few lines, “We are broken, what must we do to restore our innocence, and all the promise we adored?”
When he hangs up the phone, he grabs a pen and scrawls on a loose sheet of paper, you are the brightest star, and I’m in love with who you are.
///
He counts the days, but after the fact, the number slips his mind like sand through his fingers, and he lets it float away. They’re driving in this shitty car he’s had since way before anything, handed down from his dad, rust and all, and they’re just…driving. They aren’t sure where they’re going. They aren’t sure it matters.
It’s dark, only the occasional car on the road, so when they get to a stop light it’s like waiting for no one, and he drums his fingers on the wheel, impatient for reasons he can’t quite place.
She leans over and puts her hand on his arm, and he goes still all over, and when he turns his head she’s right there, right up close, and they’re kissing.
He forgets where they are until someone honks the horn behind him, and the light is green, and she’s laughing and covering her mouth and saying, “Go!” and the sound echoes and bounces through the car, like bells, and he stomps on the gas.
He learns to appreciate the value of red lights.
///
She calls him the next day from wherever she is.
“I finished it!” she says, and he can hear her fluttering the paper around, hear the excitement tingeing her voice.
He smiles into the phone and reaches for a pen, scribbling and filling in spaces he hadn’t known existed.
“Sing it for me,” he says, pen flying across the page (“Late night, driving home together, and at red lights, we press our lips together”).
And she does.