Bulletproof: Chapter 6
This chapter is pretty much just anxieties pov of the last chapter, and it’s pretty short, but the next chapter should be up really soon so you won’t be waiting too long this time! The next few chapters are probably going to be pretty anx focused, so I hope you like sarcasm. I’m honestly having a lot of fun writing this, and I’ve finally got a bit of a plan for the plot, so expect this to be a… r e a l l y long series.
All the positivity you guys have sent me is super encouraging and I can’t thank you enough. I’m actually considering getting my ao3 account working again, because I know Tumblr isn’t great for finding and reading fics :/ let me know if you think that’d be a good idea!!
Warnings: none for this chapter, but let me know if you think I should add something.
For the second time that day, Alex found himself sitting at a table in Pattons Plants, not working. He knew he should go back, but this was too weird to just go about his day. He stared down at the gold embossed card in his hands, already a little dog eared, thinking about how he got it.
He had just set up again, rare smile on his face. He hung on to his good mood like a cliff edge, refusing to let it slip away.
Logan and Patton were certainly… characters. He tried not to think about the fact that he couldn’t get close to them, that he probably wouldn’t ask about that job, no matter how promising. Instead he picked one of the more upbeat songs in his roster, and started playing. Over done, maybe, but over done pays. And he liked the song.
/Don’t take this the wrong way
You knew who I was
Every step that I ran to you.
Only blue or black days
Electing strange perfections
In any stranger I choose./
He let himself think, mind wandering, what would it be like to play there. Maybe a night set, with the lights dimmed. Dinner crowd scattered around tables, drinks in hand. He wouldn’t have to see their faces if he used the right lighting, making them faceless figures. Except… in his mind, he could clearly see Logan and Patton in the front row, just like they were inside. Comfortable. Welcoming. He shook his head, focusing on the song.
/Would things be easier
If there was a right way?
Honey there is no right way.
And so I fall in love
Just a little oh a little bit
Every day with someone new/
He sang every bit of what he wanted. He sang how much of him wanted to go back inside and talk again. He sang how much he wanted an easy friendship like that, how he wanted someone who could read him like a book, how he wanted someone who knew his coffee order like it was tattooed on the tip of their tongue.
/There’s an art to life’s distractions
Some how escape the burning weight
The art of scraping through
Some like to imagine
The dark caress of someone else
Oh I guess any thrill will do/
He loved being alone, but loneliness point blank sucked. It always felt so needy. There was no way to be causal about it, you wanted someone who knew you like you’d been friends for years, but you had to start on the ground level and build your way up. He tried the same carefree tone that the singer used, but it only made him sound more desperate. He threw himself into the song again, ignoring the hole in his chest.
/Would things be easier
If there was no right way?
Honey, there is no right way/
He continued the chorus, watching people pass by. There was a man in crisp white slacks who kept glancing at him from where he was talking to someone holding a stack of paperwork. He must have come out of a nearby building a good five minutes ago. Something about the way he held himself, or maybe it was how expensive everything about him looked set off Alex’s ‘the man’ reflex. He held eye contact with the sunglasses for the next few lines as his voice lowered, trying not to smirk as the guys face got red as his shirt and he nearly dropped his papers.
/I wake at the first cringe of morning
And my hearts already sinned
How pure how sweet the love beneath
Yeah you would pray for him/
Alex didn’t see himself as having many talents, but one that he treasured, and exploited whenever possible, was making authority figures really, really nervous. This might have been more flirty than terrifying, but the reaction was still pretty funny. Not like anything would come of it. No harm done.
He continued with the song, voice lightening, letting his head lean back against the building, eyes closed. It was pretty much just chorus from then on, so he cut it a little shorter than the original so his throat didn’t give out before the song ended and he could get some water. He didn’t do loud, belting songs for that exact reason, and this one was already lower than he usually sang. When he opened his eyes for the last few lines, the guy had moved to lean against a tree, watching him. Clearly someone used to getting what he wanted, but Alex would admit. The guy was hot. Preppy, which was not usually his type, but in a kind of slightly disheveled I-care-but-I-don’t-want-you-to-think-I-do way. He looked like a singer Alex saw on billboards sometimes. It was almost uncanny. As he finished the song, the guy started clapping.
/wow. Yup. He’s a douche. An attractive douche, but still a douche./
A few passers by clapped along halfheartedly, like they didn’t really know what they where clapping for. To be fair, they probably didn’t. The song usually faded to background noise for most people. They probably forgot he was even there. The fancy guy walked over to him, hips swaying.
/oh you think you’re great, don’t you. Cute./
Alex pretended he didn’t notice, counting the cash he had in the case.
“Anyone told you you’ve got a fantastic voice?” Alex snorted. “Only when they want something.” He took a slug of water from a crumpled bottle next to his case. “What if I wanted to work with you?” He saw a card out of the corner of his eye, and turned to read it. He had to fight not to spit his water all over the guys shoes. (They looked like they cost more than Alexs apartment.)
He looked up at the guy, thinking back to the billboards.
Attractive douche was a 100% certified pop star, with an insane fan base and more money than Alex would know what to do with. And he was standing there, with his sunglasses pushed up onto his head, having the gall to look nervous.
Alex had to remind himself to close his jaw.
“You… wanna work with me?”
He sounded a little too incredulous, but thank god he didn’t sound like a star struck idiot. Princey looked more sure of himself, nodding.
“Yes. I’d love to.”
Alex had to recalibrate his entire view on reality again. He squinted at the guy.
“… ok. Why?” Princey looked taken aback.
“Uh, yea? You want an extra hand to get you some insane coffee order or-”
“what? No! I- I want to sing with you-”
The door banged open in the middle of Princeys sentence, revealing Logan.
From what Alex had gathered, Logan was a very put together guy. Like, 'you’d want him on your apocalypse team because he didn’t seem to crack under any kind of pressure’ kinda put together.
Logan did not look put together now, though.
Princeys eyes widened noticeably, flicking from Logan to Alex. “I-think about my offer- I should really go-”
Alex would not have guessed that Logan was a drill sergeant in a past life, but apparently Alex was wrong about a lot of things today.
“Yup, time to go”
Princey flinched again, starting a tactical retreat (running the hell away,) still clutching his papers. Alex watched in amazement as Logan practically chased one of the most famous men in the city back to his car.
Oh god. He had. So many questions.