(pink) fairy quartz is a healer and supporter. yeah she’s really good at supporting and cheering gems. She’s lovely and cute and very very very kind. Fairy quartz’s weapon is a sword with a little crystal shards on it
when her diamond - pink diamond, - was shattered she just falled into a deep depression: <<No one deserves it! No one deserves to be shattered!>>. So yes, fairy quartz really really really don’t like rose quartz. She wanted become a crystal gem, but after al this she’s not.But now, she’s in a bubble like the others rose quartzes
“Gem”, Harry’s face broke into a grin as he walked briskly through customs and answered his phone to his sister. He breathed deeply, swearing blind that England had a better smell than anywhere else, even the gaudy shops and stalls of Heathrow made him feel fuzzy inside. He had been in Australia almost three months, and home had never looked, or felt sweeter.
“Alright H”, he could hear the smile in Gemma’s voice as she spoke, and was excited to see her. Since he had been in Australia she had moved down to London, to begin her first job since university, a correspondent at The Book Agency, a modelling and acting recruitment company in the city. She had made it out to Australia for ten days at the very beginning of his trip, and they text frequently, but it had probably been the longest he had been away from her in years…maybe even since X Factor, he mused. “Landed I take it?” she asked down the phone and he grinned when he saw Olly at the gate, waiting for him.
“Yep”, Harry replied, mouthing hello to Olly and giving him a clap on the back.“Just got Ol, by the time I get washed and changed, it will probably be about seven before I make it out”.
Gemma had organised a night out to celebrate Harry’s return with some of their closest friends, Lou and Tom included, as well as Nick Grimshaw, Daisy Lowe, and Sam Teasdale, Lou’s twin sister, whom Gemma was currently living with.
“Urghhh”, Gemma groaned. “Mate, I am gutted, but I’m not in London tonight. I got a call out this afternoon. I’m in Dublin, just for the night. Can catch up tomorrow though?”
Harry felt his mood visibly droop when he heard this, and sighed heavily. He loved his friends but he was most looking forward to seeing his sister, and telling her all about Eilidh and his new relationship. He knew that if it was splashed all over the papers in Australia, then it certainly would be in the UK as well, and he always liked to try to tell his mum and Gemma his own version of stories before they became bitter and twisted.
“Ah”, he said into the phone, trying to sound amiable. “That’s a shame. Was looking forward to seeing you”.
“Me too”, Gemma said regretfully. “I have a feeling you have some stuff to tell me”, she teased, and Harry laughed.
“Big time”, he agreed.
“Listen, the gang will be at Groucho regardless. I booked a booth, go along and have fun. The paps might not know that you’re home yet, you might get a free run”, Gemma said hopefully.
Harry sighed, looking at the revolving doors at the main entrance to the airport and the horde of photographers swarming and pushing there. “I wouldn’t bank on that”, he said, barking out a dry laugh, and trying not to sound despondent. “But cheers, Gem. Call me when you’re home. Love you”.
“Love you, H”.
Harry clicked off his phone, pulled his fedora further down over his eyes and stepped out behind Olly into the madness that was his life.
“Hi, baby”, Eilidh was in a rush, all but running up the stairs of her tenement building, before plunging her key into the lock and clattering into the flat. “Landed safe?”
“Yeah”, Harry smiled slowly in amusement at her flustered tone. “What the hell are you doing?” he chuckled down the phone.
“I’m so late”, Eilidh lamented, throwing her bags in a corner and stripping off to her underwear in the kitchen. “I have to be at the Rebellion gig in twenty minutes, I told Al I would take pictures-“
“Take pictures?”, Harry interrupted her. He was in his house by now, which felt echoing and chamber-like, still and silent. He sat at his kitchen island with his chin on his chest, twisting a banana back and forth in his hand.
“Yeah, I have a really decent camera and like to take pictures sometimse”, Eilidh said distractedly, in her bedroom now and trying to hop into a pair of tights. “Said I would do some tonight cos it’s such a big gig and all. Where are you anyway? Did you meet Gemma yet?”
“Gem had to work”, Harry said despondently. “The rest of them are at Groucho and I dunno if I can be fucked, to be honest”.
Eilidh took a minute to consider his tone, and sat down at the edge of her bed. “You alright?”
“Yeah”, Harry assured her. “Just a bit… anticlimactic coming back to an empty house I suppose”.
Eilidh frowned, wishing she could sweep his fringe out of his eyes and kiss him. “Baby…I wish I would have known. You know I would have come down”.
“It couldn’t be helped”, Harry dismissed. “It was always the big gig tonight, and I had always made the plans to see Gem anyway”.
“I’ll see you in two more sleeps”, Eilidh hedged, swearing she could almost feel his crooked smile down the phone. They had agreed for her to go down, leaving the salon with Kelly again for two nights. They didn’t plan on leaving his bedroom the whole time she was in London. It had been a long, wretched, fortnight apart.
“Course you will”, Harry assured her. “Listen babe, I know you’re in a rush. Have a good one, give my love to Al, I’ll text him in a bit. Call me later if you want”.
“I will”, Eilidh assured him.
“So…”, Harry felt the awkward space where he wanted to say those words again, but bit them back. “Bye then”.
Harry hung up the phone and groaned into his hands. He hated this about coming home from tour, it was so quiet, so lonely. This was why he made plan after plan to be busy, to be visible. This time however, he only wanted her. The thought of fighting through fifty paparazzi outside The Groucho Club made bile rise in his throat.
His eyes fell on his brown leather holdall that lay by the door, tantalising him, teasing him. Making a split second decision he grabbed his phone and his car keys, slung his holdall back over his shoulder and slammed out the house.
Eilidh felt a familiar shiver of pride and anticipation when she saw the bright lights of the Barrowlands rise in front of her. She looked over in the taxi at Nina, who looked almost serene, and Eilidh wondered how. She felt almost sick with nerves for Alex and the rest of the band, although she knew that she didn’t really have anything to worry about. She just couldn’t believe that they had sold out The Barrowlands.
The most iconic venue in Scotland, historic and majestic, loomed before them, and like she did every single time, Eilidh smiled inwardly at its paradoxes. The coolest and most iconic yes, but typically Glaswegian, with an old fashioned cloakroom, a stone floor, and chips out of the ceiling and stairs. The faint smell of vomit that seemed to permeate the place didn’t hinder any reveller in here. In here all work or personal problems were forgotten about, lost in a cloud of music and reverie. Eilidh felt her hands tingle.
“Hiya, I’m press”, she explained at the door to a bouncer who was built, to be quite frank, like a brick shithouse. He eyeballed her maniacally, while she grinned toothily and cheekily back.
“I haven’t seen you before”, he challenged readily, and Eilidh just grinned harder. “Press pass?”
She pulled her phone out and showed him her Iphone background, a picture of her family. “I’m Al McLean’s sister. That’s my pass, dickhead”.
The bouncer and Eilidh both broke into laughter at exactly the same time, him waving her through. She and Nina weaved backstage where the air was thick with anticipation, families of the band milling around with journalists and some lucky competition winning fans. It was a carnival atmosphere of joy and cigarette smoke, drum beats and the odd shouted musical note.
Eilidh slipped out a back entrance to smoke, shivering in the freezing Glasgow November air.
“Well, well”, a voice came out of nowhere and she jumped, grinning when she realised it was Rudy, readily throwing herself into his arms for a bear hug.
He picked her up off her feet and spun her slowly in a circle.
“Where have you been?” Eilidh exclaimed, hitting his shoulder as he stood tall and smirking above her. “I’ve been back from Oz for over a fortnight, you never answered my calls or texts!”
Rudy grinned and looked away. “Aww don’t tell me you missed me”, he grinned.
Eilidh cocked her head and narrowed her eyes at him, making him snigger as he inhaled his cigarette.
“Well, I didn’t get a chance to miss you”, Rudy said slowly, eyeing her. “Saw your face on every magazine and paper all over the place. Nice to see you took my advice, McLean”.
Eilidh smiled and looked at the ground, a flush spreading up her chest. “It’s good”, she said simply when she finally glanced up at him.
Rudy nodded slowly, blowing smoke out the side of his mouth.
“Good”, he replied, looking directly into her eyes. “If you’re good, I’m good”.
The gig was literally everything that any of the band could have dreamed of. The crowd were truly Scottish, and truly mental, and Alex’s voice had never been stronger, the rest of the band feeding off his energy, him and Rudy singing together in parts, looking like brothers as they stood together. Eilidh felt tears of pride prick her eyelids as she clicked and snapped on her Canon, in the press pit, with the most amazing view of all. Still, she felt herself looking longingly behind her now and then at the rolling crowd as they stomped and swayed, wishing she was back there. She had never felt pride like it since Leeds, and this seemed doubly special because it was at home. Her little brother had truly made it. It was the most fantastic, satisfying feeling. She felt proud of the pictures she took, and knew that their family would treasure them forever.
After the show, she rushed backstage to find Nina wrapped round her brother in floods of delighted tears, so she turned to Rudy and hugged him long and tight, before turning to Jamie and giving him the same.
“Uhh, Eilidh”, Alex called over Nina’s shoulder, who still clung to him. “Go next door, and get my fags and lighter for me, pal”.
Eilidh nodded and slipped out the door and into the next room, almost screaming she she saw a tall long figure standing there. Her mouth fell open in shock.
“Oh my god!”, Eilidh didn’t waste any time closing the gap between them and throwing herself into Harry’s arms. He audibly groaned with relief when he felt her, really felt her, back in his arms, where she belonged.
“What are you doing here?” she gasped, running her fingers through her hair frantically before he pulled her in for a long hard kiss.
“I just needed to be here”, Harry stared into her eyes, almost desperately. “I just couldn’t be in the same time zone as you and think about you, out having fun, without me. I just had to see you”.
“This is fucking amazing”, Eilidh half sobbed into his shirt with incredulity, and feeling like her night was truly complete.
Buff Club was packed, and The Rebellion had a whole section of the club to themselves. That carnival atmosphere prevailed still, the band and their friends still riding a euphoric high from the gig.
Harry nursed a Jack Daniels and coke, watching Eilidh as she flitted from person to person like a butterfly, feeling his chest tightening in awe at how she looked. Like a true punk wife, he mused, with her highlighted braided hair and vintage dress,a leather jacket adorning her shoulders, rings and bangles seeming to dangle from every possible limb.
He watched her as she spoke to nearly everyone in the vicinity, only for another friend or admirer to tap her on the shoulder for a long warm hug and for them to laugh uproariously at something she had said.
Harry felt sick. He knew he was behaving irrationally and like a child, but he simply had no more room to hide it. Seeing her in such demand pained him, and made him feel like he had no chance, like he was a toy that she was merely playing with. It was like a dam inside him had burst and his insecurities were flooding him completely.
Unable to bear it any longer, he stood up suddenly and walked towards her, where she was deep in conversation with Rudy and two other girls, the four of them bent double with laughter. Taking her arm firmly so she turned, he looked down at her with a stiff smile. “Hi love, remember me?” he asked, his tone steady.
Eilidh stared up at him. “What?” she said genuinely confused. “Are you alright?”
Harry sighed and led her away by the arm to a fire exit where they stepped out into the codl. Eilidh rubbed her arms, shivering, and genuine confusion written on her face. “What’s wrong?”
“What’s wrong?” Harry barked out a humourless laugh. “Well, I’ve flown from Australia, to Bangkok, to London, and then to Glasgow to see my girlfriend. And you have spoken about three words to me since I’ve got here”.
Eilidh stared at him, genuine shock flitting across her face. “Are you kidding?” she spluttered.
Harry’s eyes blazed and he roughly wrenched his hand through his hair, stumbling to find the words. “No I’m not fucking kidding”, he eventually snapped, for want of anything better to say.
Eilidh stared at him, her expression suddenly turning to stone. “Harry”, she began calmly. “In case you haven’t fucking noticed, tonight isn’t about you-“
Harry cut her off immediately, slashing the air with his hand. “Fuck off Eilidh!” he exploded, making her recoil in shock. “Don’t fucking patronise me! I’m proud of Al, you know that!”
Eilidh became very still. “This is about what you said at Wattamolla”, she realised, half under her breath.
“Of course it fucking is!” Harry explosively shouted. “How do you think I fucking felt? What’s the point of this Eilidh? Seriously babe, what’s the point! Why are you with me, if you don’t love me?”
It was as if a shutter had been pulled over Eilidh’s face and her expression became ice, as she made to walk past Harry back into the club. “You don’t understand”, she dismissed, before he stopped her with his hand.
“What?” Harry challenged her, his eyes wild. “I don’t understand what? That you were fucking engaged? It’s no secret love, Alex told me. Yeah, that guy is a total dick. But what about me, Eil? Are you never going to get over it and let me fucking in?”
Eilidh threw her hands in front of her eyes. “Don’t”, she begged, her voice thick. “Don’t talk about him. I can’t talk about him”.
“You’re going to have to!” Harry bellowed, just as the fire door creaked open and Rudy stepped outside, his expression wary.
Eilidh immediately slipped past him and back into the club, leaving Harry out in the cold, his breath heavy and dense in the cold Scottish air.
Pairing: Jasper & Pearl Description: Pearl takes some time to get to know Jasper a little better. Warnings: Signs of PTSD A/N: This began as a follow-up to If You Were Minebut works well on its own. Slow-burner fic. As always, critique is welcomed.