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Beatrice would swear upon her death bed that meeting Ava that day was not in any way shape or form a monumental deviation in her life plans.

Had this moment in time been a carefully calculated move? No. This had been simple dumb luck and it horrified her. One moment they were being ignored at dingy small gigs and suddenly they were performing at Lollapalooza. Beatrice couldn’t even begin to understand what 110,000 people looked like. Much less hearing them sing back their music, the songs that she had carefully written and slaved over for years. And here they were, expected to just pretend like that was normal. Like it was just a regular day. She was sure she needed therapy. And a new manager. Definitely a new manager. Lilith needed a haircut. Did they all need haircuts? 

Her mind spiraled. 

All in good time. 

The green room was stuffy and the air felt heavy with anxiety and pre-show jitters that shouldn’t still be happening or at least this intensely. Thoughts went back to that crowd and fear started to bubble again. She looked to her fellow bandmates, each going through their routines, and her lips curved with a small smile that she hoped would calm their nerves. 

They were set to appear as one of two musical guests, not something she recalls happening often, but unavoidable given a last minute scheduling conflict and countless apologies from The Graham Norton Show production team.

They were The Cruciforms, England’s biggest rock band since The Beatles, or she would tell her grandmother that if ever asked. Silly little hobby and all. Their EP had sold inexplicably well, well enough that eyes were on them, many eyes and they had been ill prepared. The amount of attention in itself was difficult to explain, it was as if overnight everything had fallen into place, but not. The music industry was messy, confusing and borderline psychotic. 

“Do you think she’ll be nice?” Camila’s voice cut through her thoughts.

“Who?” 

A unanimous groan stretched throughout the cramped room. 

Right. 

Ava. 

The other musical guest. 

“Do you think we’ll ever get a chance to print our vinyls at the rate she’s going?” Lilith spoke up, hair in her face. She definitely needed thera— wait no she needed a haircut, but also therapy. 

Mary rubbed her forehead knowing full well where the topic was heading. “Don’t start, you’ll just get Beatrice going on a rant again.”

“I don’t know how much longer I can put up with musical statistics and artistic integrity.” Lilith stood from the couch and walked to the heavily lit mirror in an attempt to tame her unruly hair.

Beatrice scoffed, feeling slightly validated by Lilith’s comment. “I mean honestly out of everyone that could have possibly come today and overshadow us it had to be her. Does she even have to do this anymore?”

“Careful, your inner brat is showing.”

(*)

“When you’re in the party bum-bum-bumping’ that beat!” Camila sprung up, triggered. 

“Oh God no.”

“That sewer sluts a vibe! 

Internationally recognised!

 I set the tone, it’s my design and it’s stuck in your—”

Beatrice moved as fast as she could. One squeal later and Camila was restrained. She stared up, breathing through her nose as Beatrice’s hands held her mouth shut. The couch underneath them protested with the sudden movement.

“It has been a great year for pop music. I've gone back several months and can safely say we’re finally out of the dark ages that were the early 2010’s.” Yasmine, who had been rather occupied with her phone, spoke up. She was nose deep tracking charts or plotting to take them down. One or the other. Or both. “It’s not all Ava’s fault. Though her tactics are a bit questionable and borderline exploitative.”

“See! Yasmine agrees. She has over-capitalised music and for what. Is it any good? Probably not, just some over-produced crap that will sound dated—aaaaahhh!” Camila bit her. Actually bit her. “You bit me!”

Camila had managed to squeeze her way out of Beatrice’s grasp. “How dare you speak about our lord and saviour like this.”

“She’s clearly only popular because of all the features she has managed to grab.” Beatrice continued her tirade, rubbing her hand in soothing patterns. “That and the radio won’t stop playing her.”

Mary stared at Beatrice, patience clearly gone. “Okay, you’re starting to sound like a Reddit basement dweller. I have heard her albums, they’re great, she’s talented.” Her eyes bore into hers like an older sibling would to a misbehaving little sister. “Is it my cup of tea? No. I don’t drink tea, but I can at least admit she works hard.”

“You said you wouldn’t.” Beatrice wasn’t petulant, but they had agreed not to listen to the top 100, which meant Ava was off limits. Or at least she thought they had all agreed. Clearly Camila was a filthy liar and now Mary too. 

“I’m quite partial to Malamente .” 

“No, Lilith, not you too.”

“What about Bagdad ?” Yasmine perked up, suddenly very interested in the conversation being had. “The interpolation of the choir and Justin Timberlake’s ‘ Cry Me A River ’ is brilliant.”

Beatrice sat defeated. The betrayal. They shared meals together.

She was already thinking of ways to make them suffer during practice. They were only listening to greats from now on or so help her God. They can’t squander it, this opportunity only comes once in a lifetime and they were going to focus. She would plan their listening schedule; Bob Dylan, Bowie, good old Simon & Garfunkel, aaaaaaand she was boring herself. Bananarama…what. Too much. 

Knock- knock knock- knock

“It’s probably Vincent.” Lilith had somehow constructed her hair into a braid, who thought she had it her.

“Useless,” Beatrice muttered, putting some distance between herself and the door. She knew whatever news he was bringing was going to age her in seconds. They truly needed a new manager.

It was Camila who stood to answer.

“ Hi ”

Camila slammed the door shut. The Earth spun just a little faster. 

The girls all stared as she stood perfectly still, back to the door in a state of complete panic. “It’s…it’s…” she stuttered, with full blown realisation. 

“Who is it?”

“Vincent?”

“No.”

“Graham?”

“No.”

“Ava?”

Camilla raised her hands to her mouth and nose nodding slowly, “…yes”.

Mary basically pried her bandmate off the door. “Woman, for crying out loud let your fellow countryperson in.”

The door opened and there she was. Hands behind her back, with a smile that could probably make someone trip on a busy city street. And they were all staring.

Thud

Yasmine’s phone hit the floor and all eyes followed the movement as she scrambled to pick it up. All except for Beatrice who had for a second forgotten herself. An indescribable force. Ava was or looked younger than she was expecting. She wore an oversized white t-shirt tucked into her jeans, hair in a messy bun and no makeup to speak of. Beatrice breathed in once and looked down as if struck, but couldn’t resist a second glance. Brown eyes met hers.

Ava moved forward, awkwardly doing a small wave, “Hi guys…what’s up?”

“The ceiling usually, I mean if there is one, sometimes it could be sky, but I guess…that can also depend on the weather because there’s rain and clouds and pollen and…solar wind patterns can disrupt the Earth’s magnetosphere in a phenomenon we refer to as an Aurora.” Oh no, Yasmine.

Mary nodded along only for a second. “Ava, right? I’m Mary.”

“Hello,” She smiled brightly again, outstretching her hand for Mary to shake. 

“I once had a weird dream after listening to ‘ De Aqui No Sales ’.” Beatrice could see Camilla’s mouth moving but could only hope that she had misheard. 

“Oh?” Ava chuckled, her voice turned oddly raspy with mischief. “What was it about?”

“I don’t know. It involved my dead dog Mauricio and buñuelos.”

“¿Buñuelos? Me encantan.”

“Si, a mi igual,” Camila chuckled with so much admiration.

“This is Camila, she apologises for slamming the door on your face,” Mary said gently, who apparently had taken it upon herself to be the only normal person in the room. And without any prompting began to go around introducing everyone. “That’s Yasmine and her now very broken phone.” Yasmine half smiled half winced. “The one with the sour face over there is Lilith.” A quick salute. “And this is Bea-”

Beatrice doesn’t know what possessed her to walk across the room, but she found herself in front of Ava with a tentative hand outstretched, “Beatrice.” And the indescribable force was back, negating her own will as their eyes met again. Brown. Kind. Cute laugh lines by her eyes when she smiles.

“Beatrice.” Ava repeated dumbly. “Ava.”

Lilith rolled her eyes, “Oh, we know.”

—

“Ohh! Oh that is lovely!” Graham Norton’s voice resonated over the boisterous studio audience as he made his entrance. He waved his hands, “Hello everyone, hello! Good evening. You’re all so welcome to the show. It is Friday night and like your overpowering mother-in-law, I’m back! We’ve got a great line up to finish up the week with not just one but two musical guests. If you look over there singing for us later we have The Cruciforms , Europe’s latest obsession.”

The crowd erupted into delighted cheers as the girls waved back. They were now all wearing matching form fitting black suits with paired high waisted pants. Thin ties adorned their white button ups. 

Yasmine sat behind her drums twirling one of her sticks flawlessly in her left hand, Camila on keys, Mary with a funky bass, Lilith and her guitar remained perfectly still and Beatrice smiled from the center, microphone nearby.

“They’ll be performing their latest single ‘ Stuck ’, but first who are we meeting on my sofa tonight!” Graham spoke enthusiastically as he diverted his attention to the entry leading backstage. “Well this actress has decided to return to familiar shores, and is currently starring in the West End revival of Macbeth, put your hands together for Academy Award winner Olivia Coleman!”

All big smiles as the actress emerged waving at the crowd and giving Graham a warm hug. She took a seat clapping along as the host continued.

“Next up you may know him from this year’s box office hit Dune 2 and upcoming Bob Dylan biopic A Complete Unknown , Mr. Timothée Chalamet!” 

Timothée walked through the opening, small moustache and all. He shook Graham's hand before joining Olivia on the sofa.

“And our final guest needs no introduction. She’s our two time Grammy award winning neighbour, back from her record breaking global tour! Ava!”

The cheers somehow got louder as the audience absolutely lost their minds. Ava practically materialised wearing a long sleeved black Schiaparelli ensemble that resembled a matador chaquetilla vest with gold embellishments. Her hair now in long draping curls framed her perfect face. She glowed as the attention consumed her. Graham walked to meet her halfway giving her a big hug before helping her to the sofa. 

The show went through its finely structured style for a bit as Graham took several moments discussing everyone’s upcoming projects and accomplishments. They joked and spoke, Timothée and Ava already familiar with each other and Olivia just entranced by the overall energy that had taken over the studio.

“Right! It’s time for music. This band had a great year, they’ve already been announced as The Brit Rising Star for next year. Here performing their current single ‘ Stuck ’ it’s The Cruciforms!”

The audience cheered. The lights dimmed. Lilith’s opening notes queued them in. Yasmine followed. And suddenly they were all bouncing along as the lights focused and vamped up the atmosphere. Beatrice kicked her black chucks along with the beat of the song and reached for the standing mic. 

(*)

We talk…

Talk ‘til we’re blue in face

The words…

The words don’t resonate

Seasons…

They always seem to stay the same

Holding…on to things we said we would change 

Beatrice sang, her voice coming flawlessly through the studio speakers. She glanced at Camila as she sang into the mic joining her for the chorus, keys bouncing up and down under her fingertips.

I’m stuck, babe 

Stuck with nowhere to go

Because, babe

We’re just taking it slow

It’s overdue oh oh uh oh oh

Make your move oh oh uh oh oh

Stuck, babe

Stuck with nowhere to go

Their song came to an end and the audience cheered.

“There we go!” Graham joined “The Cruciforms, everybody!”

They waved, smiles all around.

“Come on over girls! Leave those instruments there and join us on the sofa.” They followed his direction, Lilith and Mary handing over their instruments to nearby staff members. They walked the curve of the stage over to the interview area as the other guests stood to greet them. “That was fantastic, thank you so so much.” 

Beatrice, the ever stoic leader was first shaking hands with Ava, Timothée and Olivia as Graham introduced all the members by name. The girls followed her lead and quickly everyone was acquainted. 

“That is such an ear-worm, truly fantastic job ladies,” Graham took his seat and everyone else followed suit. 

“Thank you very much.” Beatrice hoped her voice wouldn’t crack and betray just how nervous she was. 

“That single is from your EP, and it’s out now and is a thing of beauty,” He continued the praise leaving all the members shy and bewildered. “How do you all feel after the incredible year you’ve had? ‘ Stuck ’ was the biggest British single of the year.”

Beatrice looked around to her band members as she spoke, “I think we’re all just in a state of shock still, to be perfectly honest. We couldn’t have imagined the amount of traction or how much the song resonated with people.”

The guests nodded along basking in the pure happiness each of the girls was giving off. 

Beatrice had just realised just who she sat next to. Ava’s smile was immense as she listened along. “How did it feel listening to the song on the radio for the first time?” She asked, eyes meeting hers.

“I know this is going to sound absurd because surely band members are with each other every second of every day,” Beatrice chuckled, “but we all heard it at different times.” 

“It was surreal!” Camila added and everyone nodded in agreement.

“I think you have this idea or this hope for so long… I’m sorry I’m not used to this. I’m nervous.” Beatrice hesitated while taking a breath, the audience laughed. 

Ava tapped her leg in encouragement, “No one is.”

Beatrice smiled at the encouragement and continued, “when we all finally heard it together we were in a cab on the way to get dumplings and we almost caused our driver to crash.” 

Everyone laughed again delighted. The show continued with more of the same atmosphere and fun banter between Graham and the guests. They spoke about their upcoming European tour and promotional endeavours for the upcoming album. 

When the show was ready to wrap, Ava stood from her spot next to Beatrice and walked towards the stage, where her guitarist and a percussionist with a cajon waited for her. She sat on the chair between them, her demeanour shifted to a more sullen tone appropriate one. 

The lights dimmed and the flamenco guitar began. 

(*)

Qué bien sé yo la fuente 

Que mana y corre

Aunque eeeeeees de noche

Aquella eterna fuente está escondida

Qué bien sé yo donde tiene su manida

Aunque eeeeeees de noche

En esta noche oscura de esta vida

Qué bien sé yo por fe la fuente fría

Aunque es de noche

Aunque es de noche

Aunque es de noche

Music, Beatrice found, always had a way of burying itself down to her bones. She didn’t need to speak the language, she understood the emotion perfectly. And Ava, what could she even be nitpicky about, Ava was delivering every line with so much care and love. In that instance she couldn’t help but chastise herself. She had devalued Ava, just as much as any other popular artist. And for what? To seem knowledgeable and alternative?

The song shifted. The tempo increased, but Ava’s falsettos had merged so perfectly that Beatrice would have just assumed it was the same song until it wasn’t. Ava stood, the light now reflecting the change of mood and the room mutated rather intensely. 

(*)

Taggea'o tu nombre en la pared, eh

O El Mal Querer en Times Square, ¿o qué?

Driving speed limit DGT, eh

O quemando rue'a sin carnet, ¿o qué?

Vas a lo suave a lo kitty cat, eh

O muerdes si tienes que morder, ¿o qué?

Muerdes si tienes que morder, eh

Muerdes si tienes que morder

Beatrice looked around to her bandmates, all enthralled with what had just occurred. Camila was practically levitating, and she knew she wouldn’t hear the end of this today. Was Olivia Coleman dancing? Mary’s eyes met hers, see , she could hear her.

A palé, a palé, a palé, a palé

A palé, a palé, a palé, a

A palé, a palé, a palé, a palé

A palé, a palé, a palé, a-a-a

Fuck the greats.

—

“What the fuck was that?” Ava winced, as she was all but pushed back against the wall. The show staff were far enough not to hear or see. Her manager stood in front of her. She was still taller than Ava even in heels. “I thought we had agreed, they’re not ready to hear that. It’s not the right time.”

Ava felt small, but the rage had been building inside her for years, eating away at her. She needed this. A change in her sound had been a long time coming and no amount of begging and hoping was going to accomplish it anymore. Keep your eyes up. She reminded herself. 

“The audience enjoyed it, didn’t they?” Ava squared her shoulders. 

A dry laugh. “A decision like this can derail your entire career.” Her manager ran her hands through her wavy hair, “Who encouraged you?”

Ava shook her head baffled. “You think I needed encouragement? If you truly believe that you clearly haven't been paying attention.”

“I need to call Fermin and get this sorted before it gains any traction.”

“Emilia.”

Emilia turned, phone to her ear. “Hell–”

“We’ll call you back.” Ava's eyes were so intense that she was sure she was about to cry and she knew Emilia knew.

Eyes bore into hers, “Let me make something exceedingly clear to you. You are where you are because of all the hours I’ve devoted to making it happen. Not only do you continue to act like a child every chance you get, you also make no effort to hide it.” This time the shove against the wall was physical. “Who do you think contacts the media to hide all your little “mistakes”. Not to mention the rampant alcoholism that everyone ignores and puts up with.” Tears were beginning to well in Ava’s eyes. “Do you think it’s cute what you’re doing? Do you think it’s funny?” Emilia spoke calmly, completely stone-faced.“How fucking dare you?”

Ava couldn’t bear to raise her gaze to meet Emilia’s.

“Let me predict with 100% certainty what’s about to happen after we leave this building.” Emilia lowered her mouth close to Ava’s left ear, “You’re going to sneak out of your hotel room and you’re going to drink until you black out, and I’m going to find you in your bathtub tomorrow morning feeling sorry for yourself. And then we’ll leave this God forsaken country and never speak about this again.”

A noise from down the hall alerted them immediately. Ava could feel Emilia extracting herself. She gave a small glance in the direction of the noise, but couldn't make out what it was. 

Emilia’s eyes were furious as her gaze returned to Ava. “I’ll let the driver know we’re ready to leave.”

Ava watched as her manager made her way down the hall and into one of the green rooms. The same noise resonated across the hall again. She wiped her face as best she could, turning the corner and without realising, smashing straight into something solid.

Beatrice. 

Vest pocket tangled on the handle of the janitor’s closet. She would laugh if the circumstances weren’t pointing to the fact that she was sure the woman had overheard the exchange. And she knows that face. She sees her assistant make that face all too often.

“Why are you coming out of the closet?” Ava was nothing without her humour after all. 

A beat. Beatrice hesitated, Ava could see her eyes frantically searching for the proper response. “Well…you see I was just trying to find the–”

“The?”

Beatrice made an attempt to form words, but gave up several times. She struggled with the handle again, somehow she had managed to make it go further into her pocket.

Ava chuckled. A full on throaty chuckle. “Here. Let me.” Ava placed her hand on her arm and gently twisted the handle enough that it slipped right out. 

The honey brown eyes danced awkwardly from wall to wall before meeting hers. 

There was a breath and Ava began to understand that this was probably something Beatrice did often before speaking. A learned response she knew all too well. “Are you alright?” Beatrice asked, arms coming to her side. 

She waited for Ava’s response. Strange . Most people would have already walked away from what had just happened. Pretending. Always pretending. “Do you know Claridge’s?” She hoped Beatrice wouldn’t push.

“Do I know Claridge’s?” An inflection on the ‘I’.

“Meet me outside at ten.”

“What? Like, tonight?”

“Ten. tonight.”

Ava turned to leave.

“Ten?”

“Tonight.”

—

Beatrice is not in the habit of meeting up with world famous pop stars outside of bougie hotels, but she was in fact a big fan of a mystery and that’s what Ava was. A person like Ava shouldn't exist. The raw emotion and vocal talent she had just witnessed could not have come out of a five foot tall person that looked like that. 

Like what? Like sunshine? 

She physically shook the thought from her head and glanced down at the watch on her wrist. 

10:14 pm

This had to have been a joke. Why would she have ever thought that something like this could happen to someone like her. The doormen knew it. And she knew it. She didn’t belong and they were definitely going to call the Bobbies. She swiped through her phone a couple of times looking for the train schedule. She had time. She could still walk away without being charged for trespassing.

“Hi.” Beatrice was sure she caught some air. “I’m sorry about the wait, I had to do a bit of Mission Impossible–ling,” Ave smiled way too happy about her own joke. 

“I see.”

She looked at Beatrice for a moment, long enough to be noticed, that is, “You look slick.”

And it wasn’t a usual thing for Beatrice to care about her appearance. Her eyes looked down, suddenly vulnerable. She was wearing houndstooth trousers, slip-on-sneakers, a white cotton shirt and a black coat. And then she looked at Ava who was wearing the same outfit from the green room plus an oversized coat and heels, hair still in curls.

“Thanks.”

Ava began to walk.

Beatrice hesitated for a moment but followed after her. “Wait. Where are we going?”

“Looking for some nightlife.” Ava was quick on her feet, comfortable in her heels as they made their way down the cobblestone street. A feat that Beatrice herself has never been able to maneuver that well.

“A nightlife here? In Mayfair?” The only kind of night life in Mayfair was over expensive single-grape wine from wherever the fuck in France. 

As they walked they passed high end shop windows and luxury vehicles parked on the street. There were a healthy amount of people wandering nearby restaurants and bars, which calmed Beatrice’s nerves. After passing The King’s Head, Ava made a right with no signs of slowing down.

“You seem to know where you’re going.”

Ava slowed, taking pity on her. “I come to London a lot, usually to record.”

“That makes sense.”

“Do you like it here?”

“London? I mean, I was raised here, can’t complain.” Beatrice continued, “What about you?”

“Can’t say I stick around long enough to form an opinion.”

“I can show you around if you’d like sometime.”

Ava giggled, but didn’t look at Beatrice. “Maybe next time I’m in town.”

Beatrice wasn’t sure what it was about Ava that caused her to lose all sense of self. If it were any other Friday night she would be in her flat reading or listening to her latest record find. Only leaving if her bandmates had plans together or to have dinners with her mum. Was it because of who she was? No. Beatrice had already met her fair share of celebrities so this wasn’t that. Plus, she was never one to be around people like Ava. People that shined easily.

They stopped in front of white steps. She looked up at a simple black door with the number 46.

“Are we visiting someone?”

Ava didn’t answer, choosing to climb instead.“When we go in, don't accept anything from anyone. Don’t wander far from me and definitely do not speak to the staff more than required. They will know.”

“Sorry?”
Ava knocked and after a few seconds the door was opened by a man in a tailored suit with an earpiece.

“Ms. Silva, good evening.”

“Good evening.” Ava grabbed her hand leading her inside.

 Past the entryway was a long hallway and a set of heavy doors. What the fuck was happening? 

“Good evening Ms. Silva, coats?”

Ava removed her coat, handing it over to a staff member behind the counter, then began to help Beatrice out of hers. 

“Thank you. Enjoy your evening ladies.”

Her hand was grabbed again as they passed through the solid doors. 

The building seemed to suddenly expand, the lights were dimmed and cigar smoke floated up towards strategically placed vents. Several men and women sat around chairs she was sure would cost more than her university education. The brown oak coffee tables held various drinks and if she looked close enough she could see old water marks left behind from years of use. As they made their way down the room she made out rows and rows of people chatting to one another or laughing. The music was jazzy and at a level where easy conversation could be had.

Ava didn’t pay much attention to their surroundings and was headed for the stairs. Her hand felt suddenly very clammy with uncertainty. And as they neared the steps she felt the bass of the music increase. 

Beatrice knew better than to get herself into a situation like this, so, why had a woman she had only met a few hours prior been so powerful. She was almost sure this was turning out to be some weird Ready or Not shit, where rich people kill for sport. And the funny thing was she knew this was how she went. All those years of repression and putting music first, all too be undone by a pretty girl with red lips. Her bandmates were going to kill her for this–well, she’d be dead, but they would definitely come to the wake and roast her.

They took two steps at a time and emerged into what was obviously a club. The lights bounced with the beat of the music as the people inside danced along, not acknowledging anything but the vibe and themselves. The bar stretched across the entire length of the left wall and several tables stood snuggly to the right, both hugging the dance floor. 

Ava walked straight to the bar, finally releasing her hand. Beatrice couldn’t see much apart from the pulsating lights hitting the walls due to how dark it was.

“What will you have?” Ava got close enough to speak into her ear.

“Huh? Sorry I was looking at the architecture.” 

Ava gave her a fond look then turned her attention to the bartender. “We’ll start with shots.”

“Oh, I don’t–I’m not—”

“Just try it. It’s a no pressure shot.”

Beatrice looked from the glass and to Ava. This was not a good idea.

By the time Beatrice had mustered a semblance of courage to even hold the shot Ava was already on her fourth. She watched her expectantly and the indescribable force was back. The liquor went down hard. She could feel it burning all the way down. 

“That was vile!”

“I bet!”

Ava looked at the crowd. The energy was feeding into her. “Dance?”

Beatrice wavered considering her options. “You go ahead. I’ll catch up.” She was hoping Ava wouldn’t question it. And when she didn’t Beatrice sent a small prayer to anyone who was listening. She watched as Ava made her way through the crowd needing no time to synchronise to everyone else.

“Anything else?” The bartender asked impatiently.

“Water, please.”

This was going to be a long night.

She had somehow made it through to Ava, who was now flushed red and perspiring, though it was not something that looked bad on her. She smiled the moment she spotted Beatrice and rushed to put her hands on her hips.

(*)

Oh, your gravity, your gravity

Your gravity, I will follow you

Oh, your gravity, your gravity

Your gravity, I will follow you

The bodies next to them bounced and swayed matching the rhythm. 

Head in the stars, I see you everywhere

I could never get away, get away (away)

In a hold, just take me anywhere

And I believe in what you say

—

Beatrice adjusted the body on her back again.

Yup, this had been a terrible idea.

She had only made it down two streets and her ankles were not complying. Ava was essentially dead weight at this point and she could feel a cool kind of liquid on the shoulder where her head rested. 

It was now 3 AM and she was having some major regrets. 

Beatrice wasn’t sure how much alcohol Ava had consumed, she had lost track at some point. She had begged her to have some water, peanuts, anything, but Ava had been hard headed and knew exactly what she was doing.

She bounced her butt up, catching Ava’s thighs again. At least it didn’t look out of place. Plenty of people had stumbled out and they had left a straggler a street behind who kept insisting he was Harry Styles.

Thank God for her sneakers or else this would have looked more like she was pulling a dead body. Oh fuck. Did it look like she was carrying a dead body? Her pace increased out of pure fear. This literally could not be happening right now. She was done for. Ava’s fans would kill her. They wouldn’t even question her. They would tear her apart limb from limb in some sadistic medieval torture session while chanting along to one of their idol’s songs.

She had by some miraculous stroke of luck made it back to Claridge’s. The two doormen from earlier watched her struggle the last few meters to the door.

“Hello there!” She sounded way too excited. 

“Evening,” one of the doormen greeted her unenthusiastically.

“Yes, hi. She–she’s a guest at this hotel and as you can–” she adjusted their bodies. The men looked between them, but showed no signs of letting her through. “As you can see, she is very much asleep.”

“What name is the room booked under?”

“Silva? Ava Silva?”

“There’s no such guest staying with us.”

Of course.

She readjusted Ava again. Hoping for some kind of pity. 

Ava’s hand appeared in front of her face holding a room key. “Oh! Well, there we go then. Excuse us.”

The door was held open long enough for Beatrice to slip inside. 

“You are…weird–weirdly strong,” Ava said a little slurred. 

Beatrice’s sneakers squeaked on the checkered marble flooring. The grand entryway was entirely too opulent for the amount of pain currently coursing through every inch of her body.

 She needed a lift. 

The night attendants watched them closely.

 She heard the distinctive ding and rushed to make it, but the doors closed.

She lowered her face to the console and pressed the up button with her nose. This had to be a new low even for her, which is saying a lot because she NEVER does anything like this. The most she would admit to is staying up all night during record store day and camping outside the vinyl store for hours. It took a few seconds and the other set of doors opened. She slipped inside taking a moment to balance Ava and herself against a wall.

There was a beep and the lift began to rise. 

“Did you just?”

Ava nodded against her shoulder.

When they arrived at the correct floor Beatrice mustered all the strength she had left. She readjusted Ava and in one smooth motion used the wall to push them forward.

“Room?!”

“The–the door on the left,” Ava pointed down the hall.

Her legs were shaking. She needed to run into that room. The door clicked open and she rushed in quickly finding the bed and throwing Ava on it, who bounced a couple of times giggling as if Beatrice hadn’t just carried her for what felt like kilometers. There was definitely going to be murder tonight, and she would accept her fate at the hands of her fanbase.

“How could you be laughing!” Beatrice began, eyebrows cast down, anger suddenly blooming after tonight's events. “How could you just let yourself drink to the point of passing out? What if I hadn’t been there? How would you have gotten back here? Do I need to take you to the hospital? Do you need your stomach pumped?!” Beatrice took a breath. Her face was hot and she was sure, no, she knew, she had pulled one of her calf muscles. 

Ava was sitting upright watching her closely, her face was red, small strands of hair stuck to her forehead. Suddenly, Ava stood with yet another impressive display of heel sportsmanship, discarding her coat in one go and running to the bathroom.

She managed to make it to the toilet before retching and vomiting into it.

“Oh my God–are you okay?” Beatrice wobbled her way into the bathroom. Ava nodded weakly, giving her a thumbs up.“Here, let me pull your hair back.” Beatrice took the hair tie on her wrist, somewhat picking up Ava’s sticky hair off her face. Yup, that was definitely a chunk of something tangled in her hair. Ava’s shoulder shook with a giggle.“You look a mess and you are laughing?!” Beatrice couldn't help it, her shoulder began to shake as well.

They both laughed wholeheartedly or in this case deliriously. And then Ava began to retch again.

“N—” Beatrice could feel it. The need to join. It was all dry, but enough for her body to gag and compulse a bit in solidarity.

Ava threw up again and Beatrice wobbled out needing to get out of there before dry turned into not so dry. She looked around the room looking for a small fridge with hopefully some water inside. It was a miracle at this point that she hadn’t tripped on the amount of clothing littering the floor. The room she found was as chaotic as its inhabitant. 

Score.

She grabbed the sealed bottle and basically hopped on one foot to the bathroom. She kneeled down to where Ava’s head was in the toilet, handing the bottle over. “Please rinse out your mouth. Stomach acid is not good for your teeth.”

Ava did as she was told. She sat back against the bathtub, everything finally catching up to her. 

Beatrice had wandered back into the room, she removed her coat and let herself rest against the bed. Her bandmates were never going to believe her if she ever brought this up. This could not happen again. She wasn’t built for this. She was built for late night doom scrolling and hot cups of tea. This had filled her social quota for the century and in a moment of weakness imagined her life right now in a different reality. She could be a nun, transcribing old texts and doing a bit of bookkeeping. Yup, that she was made for.

The toilet flushed and Ava slowly emerged from the bathroom. She leaned against the door frame, removing a heel at a time.“That was close.” She fiddled with the button of her jeans until she gave up and pulled them down without any warning.

Ava was a terrorist.

Beatrice made no attempt to look away. What would the point have been? Ava had managed to top whatever she did with something else. Silky black underwear. Pfft. “Right. So, I’m going to go now.” She pushed off the bed and shoved her hands in her pant pockets, “I would like to say that it has been great, but it has not.”

Ava pulled the covers and slipped inside without paying her any attention.

Beatrice waited for any kind of reply, but when none came concern took over once again. Ava was lying so still that she could have sworn she had a cardiac episode without any kind of preamble. She stepped closer, lowering her face enough to hear some kind of breath. Soft, hardly there. She could see Ava’s chest slowly rising and falling in rhythm. The person before her now felt so small and fragile, without the carefully crafted mask she had wielded the whole day.

She unconsciously ran a gentle hand down Ava’s cheek, the force pulling her to do it was so strong she didn’t have the strength to fight against it anymore. Ava was okay. She was asleep.

Beatrice grabbed the bottle from where Ava had left it on the bathroom counter and brought it to the night table closest to Ava. With one final look to satisfy her worry she turned to leave, carefully putting her weight on her foot, surprised to find that it felt much better already. She closed the room door lightly behind her and as she reached the lift doors. A noise from down the hall alerted her. The same woman from before, Emilia, emerged from the room opposite of Ava’s. She scanned a keycard against Ava’s door, but before stepping inside, her face turned, making eye contact with Beatrice.

Her face was unreadable and for just a moment Beatrice feared for her life. She looked away, smashing the lift button a couple of more times. She heard the door close down the hall and breathed a sigh of relief as the lift doors closed behind her.

—

Beatrice had hoped that a Sunday morning run followed by a cup of coffee would bring her some kind of peace. The chilly Autumn wind hit her cheeks, turning them pink. She sat outside her favourite coffee shop, which was just a few minutes walk from her flat. The run had filled her body with endorphins and she was currently riding the ‘ nothing is absolutely wrong ’ train. 

The last few days had been a roller coaster and dare she say a shit fest. Vincent was not answering her calls or any of their calls and had apparently disappeared from the face of the Earth. Her emails were out of control with managers, producers, sponsors and basically everyone in the industry that wanted a piece of them.

So this, a simple coffee, she could do for the moment. She wasn’t going to think about what had happened with Ava last night. And she was not going to think about murdering Vincent.

Several undisclosed and heavy shopping bags were deposited on the table in front of her. The sudden action caused her to blink rapidly several times.

A woman stood there observing her closely. She wore brown high waisted pants with a cream turtleneck and an olive coat, “Beatrice Young?”

“…Yes?” She was hesitant to confirm.

“Suzanne De Fanti,” She took a seat across from her.

Why did that name sound so familiar?

She waited for Beatrice to speak, but when no reply came she continued, “I hear that you are in need of a manager.”

“Oh well, that’s— does everyone know that?”

“Yes.” It was direct and Beatrice liked that in a person. “I have taken it upon myself to reach out to several brands that meet the bands general aesthetic or as you young kids call it now ‘vibes’.”

“I can see that.”

“It seems you are a difficult commodity to get a hold of and I am here to facilitate that.”

Realisation suddenly hit her. “You’re THE Suzanne De Fanti? You’re a legend. I thought you retired from management a couple of years ago.”

The woman shrugged. “If I’m being perfectly honest, the industry was a bit stagnant.”

“And you’re back?” 

“I believe so.” She answered, fingers picking at something on her nail. I have plenty of connections and old friends. I assume everything is still exploitative and disruptive.”

Beatrice watched her for a moment. This was probably too good to be true. How does something like this even happen? Also, how did Suzanne even find her? 

“Where are your bandmates? I’d like to meet them so we’re all acquainted.” Suzanne had a way about herself and Beatrice knew to keep a bit of skepticism. 

“That simple then?”

“It can be. I assume you don’t speak for them.”

“No, I do not.” A breath. “What’s in it for you? A return to your former glory?” 

“Don’t misunderstand my offer.” She began, “In my years of doing this I have rarely seen such a reaction towards a musician much less a band. You’ve done well, but that can only take you so far in this industry. You need proper connections and someone with the experience to help you navigate it all.” Suzanne searched her face. “You want to hear the most useful advice I can give you? Quit. Quit now before it hurts. Because it’s going to get a lot more difficult from here on out. Yes, getting attention in itself is a feat, but keeping it? That takes work, and not everyone is built for it. Trust me. I have seen it.”

Beatrice shifted her eyes. The words cut a little too close. “Is that all you think it is for us?”

“No, but the way I see it is, eventually, you forget to think about why you started in the first place. And then the hurt sets in.”

Beatrice doesn’t have a response. She lets the conversation sit between them and thinks. Always thinking. Her bandmates were beginning to show frustrations with Vincent’s lack of initiative, they had been busy and tired, so tired. Suzanne could be the person they needed.

“We have practice in thirty minutes. I can give you the address to the studio we’re renting, you can come see us then.”

“Nearby?”

“Just a few streets from here. I was about to change and head over before…” Beatrice waved her hand around not needing to communicate what had just happened.

“Alright, we go now.” Suzanne stood pointing at the bags, “How fashion savvy are you?”

“I have been trying very hard not to be giddy over the Alexander McQueen logo.”

She smiled in approval. “Well, what are we waiting for?” She grabbed a few bags and left the rest for Beatrice to help with. 

Beatrice thought she was a speedy walker on most days. Growing up in London had ingrained a mad scramble mentality to grab The Tube on busy work days, but this was on another level. Suzanne walked with so much haste that it was like she was running circles around Beatrice and still pulling in ahead and her legs could only take her so far.

“Bea! Beeeeaaaaaaa! BEATRICE!” Camila screamed across the street from them, somehow spotting them on her way to practice.

Suzanne stopped before she did and it took all her self control not to topple over her. 

Camila crossed the avenue, catching up to them. “I can spot those little pigeon ankles from anywhere.” She looked from Beatrice to the stranger, before her eyes caught sight of the bags.

“Camila Delcán”

“Oh…wow that’s scary.” She paused, “Do we know this…very well dressed woman?”

“Hi Camila,” Beatrice greeted her, a fond look on her face. “This is Suzanne De Fanti.”

“The Real Housewives of Napoli?”

“...I don’t…what?”

Suzanne laughed and it was genuine. “Potential new manager,” She extended her hand to Camila who shook it with both hers.

“I have been manifesting this.” She said, way too happy with the possibility. 

Suzanne handed the remaining bags to Camila, “Grab these will you, I need to make a phone call.” She pulled a phone from her purse and pressed the screen exactly once. “Lead the way ladies.”

And they were off again. Beatrice didn’t know what had possessed her, but somehow she was walking faster, eager to meet the rest of her bandmates. Camila kept pace next to her, she was hopping. They turned a corner and headed towards a three story building. Once inside they called for the lift and turned to look at Suzanne who had hung up and was taking in her sights.

“This won't do.”

“It was all we could afford and we’re still under contract.”

The lift arrived, doors grinded struggling to open.

“Stairs?”

“To our left but the lights have been out since August and the neighborhood teens hang out in there.” Camila offered, already stepping onto the lift alongside Beatrice. “I once found a boobless Barbie doll, it was so strange.”

“Hmm.”

They were all crammed in the small space as the sorry excuse for lift ascended. The metal rattled and further protested as the bass from the levels above amplified aggressive sounding drums and guitars. Beatrice and Camila looked at each other with concern as the lift’s door slowly opened to reveal the saddest looking loft imaginable. 

The three occupants inside continued their session. Lilith fiercely sing-screaming into the microphone while strumming her guitar. Mary casually just jamming with her bass and Yasmine too distracted on the drums to notice that anyone had arrived.

(*)

Wake up, wake up, wake up

We are appalling and we need to stop just watching shit in bed

And I know it sounds boring and we like things that are funny

But we need to get this in our fucking heads

The economy's a goner, republic's a banana, ignore it if you wanna

Suzanne looked around, slightly concerned with the safety of the loft as the walls shook and dust particles fell off the ceiling. The studio equipment was prehistoric and to be perfectly honest half of it didn’t even work anymore. There was a small couch by the wall behind the control booth and copious amounts of carpets. 

I don't like going outside, so bring me everything here

HEY! 

WOO!

YEA!

Mary was the first to notice their new guests, she gave Beatrice and Camila a small wave before walking towards the amps and shutting off their power. It took a few seconds for Lilith and Yasmine to realise what had occurred. 

“Guys! We have a new manager!” Camila shouted excitedly on her way to her bandmates.

“No…wait Camila,” Beatrice called out after her.

“New manager? I don’t remember us having a democratic vote about this? Beatrice?” Mary was always on top of everything.

“Suzanne De Fanti,” The older woman reached out for a handshake.

“Oh shit? It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Mary,” Mary shook her hand without hesitation.

“I know.”

Lilith and Yasmine now joined the rest.

“Yes.”

“Yes?” Beatrice raised her eyebrow towards Lilith.

“I vote yes.”

“We should think about this together.”

“No, I’m done waiting around,” Lilith answered back unfazed. “I’m well aware of who she is and what she is capable of.”

“And I’m well aware of who you are and what you’re capable of.” Suzanne smiled. “Your mother and I ran around the same circles years ago, I’m glad to see that she wasn’t wrong about you.”

The girls all stood in silence.

“Yes”

“YES!”

“Yea”

“I like her very much,” Yasmine spoke last.

“That settles it then.” Suzanne crossed her arms, looking at them a little too close for comfort. “Haircuts, clothes, studio, and Levy.”

“Levy?” Beatrice asked, confused.

“Yasmin, I require information of all that has happened this year and leading up to it.” Their new manager continued, not bothering to answer, “I’ve been following along but I need to know what the media doesn’t know.”

“I’m on it. I’ve kept a spreadsheet of all our exploits thus far.”

Camila’s eyes bulged. “What! What exploits?”

 The lift doors opened just as weakly as before.

“Uh, so I was just verbally assaulted by a very off-brand Billie Eilish outside.” The man walked towards them. He was impeccably dressed, coat outlining his shoulders perfectly. 

Suzanne smirked. “Girls, this is Levy.”

Camila bounced in place. “Can we keep him?”

—

One Month Later

“I thought I already told you to stop biting your cuticles, you look like a sneaky little rodent,” Levy leaned over and whispered-yelled rather roughly into her ear.

Beatrice was so close so so very close to ending his life. 

A model squeezed between them scrabbling towards her fitting assistant. 

Beatrice’s nails came back to her mouth. 

How Suzanne figured out she used to do ballet was a mystery to her. She had never referenced it in any interview, heck, her bandmates didn’t know. Well, except for Camila, but she wouldn’t. She wouldn’t, right? Why, Yes, Suzanne I love fashion. Please put me on a runway show, it’ll be great for the group's image and reachability. And sure, Suzanne had been skeptical about her abilities, but a few contacts later and a runway coach from hell had prepared her to do just one outfit. She could do this. It was just walking. She walked all the time in straight lines, and not so straight lines. Plus, she had great stamina. 

Levy swatted her hand away. 

She glanced around the massive room around her. Everyone was running around like a bunch of headless chickens. Photographers, hair stylists, makeup artists, assistants of assistants, models in various stages of undress and Levy. The lights were so bright that she was sure it would leave an impression in her corneas. Everyone was yelling and somehow it was the weirdest dance she had ever experienced. Everything was somehow going according to plan.

She found a bit of wall to lean on and it lasted exactly one second before Levy pulled her off it. “You’re going to crease it! And I am not about to be impaled by Sarah Burton.”

“You try standing on these!”

“I would willingly sell my left nipple to do so.”

Admittedly, the dress and heels she was wearing were beautiful, but she would not give him the satisfaction of enjoying this one bit. The embroidered black lace hugged her torso perfectly, which flowed until it hit silk that further became undone with fine brushed textures. She was about to politely scream like a banshee and truly personify the dress she was wearing. 

Levy walked off to answer his phone. Beatrice was certain it was Suzanne asking how she was doing. And by the look on his face, he was not being very kind. She would give him an earful once he came back.

Everyone around them burst into cheers suddenly, even the models engrossed in conversation stopped to look over. A few photographers rushed forward snapping pictures as the person walked to the enormous wall that was the entrance to the catwalk. The person must be the musical number that was meant to close the show. There was a break in the crowd and Beatrice could only stare a little slack jawed. 

Ava. 

It was Ava. 

Her hair had been cut straight across her shoulders in a clean bob. She had fierce eye makeup just like Beatrice’s and wore a dress that resembled one of the earlier looks. With cascading translucent white silk chiffon that stopped just a bit past her bottom with beautiful sunray pleats. She nodded a few times to the assistants nearby as they handed her a microphone and put in her in-ears. The music shifted and Ava stepped onto the runway.

“Beatrice!” Levy was urgently trying to get her attention.

She saw the closing looks coming together in order. The stage assistant ran frantically towards her. “Remember. Do it just like earlier during practice. Follow 41. Remember the cameras are mainly positioned at the front.” She wasn’t much younger than Beatrice. “Once you’re back, be ready to head back out to close the show with the rest of the models.”

Ava’s voice echoed inside.

She nodded, purely by instinct as she was pulled towards 41. 

(*)

Me da miedo cuando sales

Sonriendo pa' la calle

Porque todos pueden ver

Los hoyuelitos que te salen

She and 41 were about to become so intimate.

41 stepped through onto the runway and a hand was held in front of her. Once that hand was down it was go time. There was no more deliberation. She focused on Ava’s voice. The arm came down and she was off.

 She had practiced with the lights on before. She knew how intense they would be, but nothing could have prepared her for the amount of eyes that were currently on her. On either side of the runway were rows upon rows of the fashion elite. All taking notes in order to be the front page article the moment the show was over. The flash of photographers set her on edge momentarily as she navigated the now very foggy catwalk. She spotted Suzanne sitting to her left, who gave a quick nod, but nothing more.

Cuando sales por la puerta

Pienso que no vuelves nunca

Y si no te agarro fuerte

Siento que será mi culpa

Ava must have noticed her somehow because she made eye contact and stumbled with her words for a second. She walked past, head forward. She was almost there, almost finished. The photographer's flashes intensified as she made it to the end of the runway giving them a quick pose.

Pienso en tu mirá, tu mirá clavá es una bala en el pecho

Pienso en tu mirá, tu mirá clavá es una bala en el pecho

Pienso en tu mirá, tu mirá clavá es una bala en el pecho

Ava sang into her microphone, her powerful voice coming through perfectly. They made eye contact again. Beatrice’s stomach jumped. Huh . That was definitely new territory.

The walk backstage was even faster.

She made it, careful to stand out of the way for the final looks to come through. Levy waved frantically, his smile genuine. The models around her began to line up for the closing parade and she followed suit. 

Once they were all ready the stage assistant lowered her arm and they all walked out to the runway. The feeling was indescribable, she was riding on the world's weirdest high right now. She was equal parts delirious and beyond elated. 41 had saved her life and she was eternally grateful. 

As she made her way back from the photographers she gave Suzanne a huge smile and then it was over. Sarah Burton walked past her eager to take her bows as the audience clapped enthusiastically. 

Levy crushed her in a big hug. “I was rooting for you the whole time, didn’t doubt you for a second!” 

“I feel really really lightheaded right now.” She leaned back against a table, dress be damned. She needed something to ground her. All of that stress for maybe 5 minutes of having to do it.

Everyone around her was celebrating how great the show had turned out. Some models weren’t even fazed, already taking their makeup off and pulling at their hairs, the assistants around them helping them out of their outfits.

Without meaning to her eyes sought Ava in the crowd. Something that she should have been more careful about because as soon as she found her she saw more than she bargained for. And sure this was a fashion show and she had spent the majority of the day seeing the human anatomy in ways she hadn’t before. One of Ava’s assistants helped her out of her dress while the other one held another outfit. It was quick. She could have missed it if she looked away, but her heart began to palpitate. 

Ava’s eyes met hers and held her gaze. It was seconds, but it felt like an eternity and she had the audacity to wink in her direction.

The second assistant slid the dress on causing their gaze to shatter.

(*)

Oh God, can you make my heart stop?

Hit me with your kill shot, baby

I mean it so serious

God, can you make my heart stop?

Honey, with your kill shot, baby

I mean it so serious

Chapter Text

Beatrice’s fight or flight response was going off.

L’Arc was not an environment that she would have ever willingly stepped into and upon further consideration, random club moments were starting to become a staple part of her life. And that simply would not do. 

“What was it that he said?” Levy shouted over the incessant club music.

Beatrice swiftly avoided an elbow to the face as they cut through the rambunctious crowd, “Who? Descartes!”

“Is that the one with the horrible curls?”

Yes, the one with the horrible curls. The most celebrated and influential French philosopher was being reduced to his curls. She was shoved again. Someone had popped open champagne and the cork flew across her face.

“Cogito, ergo sum,” Beatrice rolled her eyes, but delivered the line in perfect Latin.

“In English.”

“I think, therefore I am.”

“Like the song?”

“No, not the song.” she chuckled, amused. Not that she would ever admit it. Her Oxfords might as well have been glued to the floor with how difficult it was to walk in this nightmare.

(*)

Lorsque je n'serais plus belle ou du moins au naturel

Arrête je sais que tu mens, il n'y a que Kate Moss qui est éternelle

They reached a surprisingly empty standing table and took in the establishment. Fashion week was over and everyone was celebrating. And L’Arc was the place to be. Everyone was some kind of celebrity or influencer around them. All too self absorbed with their own agendas to do any kind of networking. The music was loud and the space continued to shrink as more and more people entered the club. And to be perfectly honest all she wanted to do was latibulate in the dark somewhere and if pictures were taken then so be it.

Moche ou bête (c'est jamais bon)

Bête ou belle (c'est jamais bon)

Belle ou moi (c'est jamais bon)

Moi ou elle (c'est jamais bon)

“I just thought that maybe thinking about a stuffy old man from the 15th century would keep me from straying tonight,” He said, crossing his arms with exaggerated annoyance.

“We’re both meant to be working, Suzanne made that perfectly clear when she all but threw us out of the car.”

“I believe the word she used was ‘networking’, and I definitely want to do a lot of that.” His gaze drifted back to where they came from. “The French just hit that spot, you know, they could be saying ‘I want to fry you like a fish’ and I would think it’s the sexiest thing ever conjugated.”

“ Je ne veux pas te faire frire comme un poisson. ”

They stood in silence for a few seconds, Levy watched her closely. She was certain he was debating whether to tease her or not, which had become the new thing for them. In some strange and inexplicable way he was the sibling she always wanted, albeit a little annoying. Though he has been an immense help so far, she wouldn’t say that to him, lest it get to his head. 

Tous les mêmes, tous les mêmes, tous les mêmes et y'en a marre

Tous les mêmes, tous les mêmes, tous les mêmes

“Not so sexy when you say it. How do you keep doing that?”

“Private education.”

“Oh! Crazy Rich Asians .”

“I’m not THAT rich,” she retorted, shoving him lightly with her shoulder. He touched the spot scandalised. “You know, Decartes believed that the mind and the body are separate and independent from each other, so technically–”

“I shouldn’t feel guilty about leaving you for the hot chef?”

“In some convoluted way, yes.”

“Say less, Descartes.” Levy said and walked away with conviction.

Beatrice sighed. This was not her scene at all and now she had lost her buddy. Would Suzanne really know if she by some inexplicable chance found herself to the exit? And what if she wandered the Parisian streets for a few hours? Her photo had been taken, she had been part of the moment and after all, that was what this was all about. 

Without second guessing herself, Beatrice walked towards the cloak room. The attendant sighed, too interested in the festivities to even bother with her. She slid a small card across the counter to him, it contained her coat number. He took it without a second look and slipped inside the small room behind him. 

The last time she was in Paris she had been fifteen. Her parents had brought her along on a diplomatic trip, back then they always did. She was encouraged from a young age to be independent, which meant that once they had gone off to work she was free to do as she liked, within reason of course. 

She scrolled through her phone deciding which route to take.

“Come here often?”

Beatrice turned to her left, surprised to find how distinct this voice was becoming.

“I’m trying very hard to not make this a habit, but–.”

“It comes with the territory?” Ava finished for her. “I know what you mean.”

“Did you just arrive?” Beatrice took her in. Her coat was halfway off her shoulder, revealing thin shoulder straps and a cute black tulle cocktail dress. It was remarkable how pristine and unbothered she looked. They had both quite literally come off a runway just hours ago. And here was Ava looking radiant. Beatrice was sure she on the other hand was sporting deep eyebags and running on fumes.

“Yes, meeting some friends and blowing off some steam,” she replied, looking in the direction of the crowd. “What about you? Just got here?”

Beatrice shook her head. “No, grabbing my coat and slipping out before I’m caught.”

Ava’s eyebrows scrunched up, she was picking at something on the counter. “Are you hiding from someone?”

Beatrice took a moment to answer, also engrossed in whatever Ava was doing. “Levy.” Eyes met hers. “My manager's assistant, and I guess mine. Though he doesn’t share the sentiment.”

“Suzanne?”

“How–”

Ava shook her head. “How have you not realised that everybody knows everybody by now?” She smiled fondly at Beatrice, amused with how not in-the-know she was.

“I’m starting to.” Beatrice tore her eyes from Ava to look at the cloak room, the attendant was sure taking his sweet time.

Ava stepped closer, strangely Beatrice didn’t default to her usual rule of personal space. Camila was probably the only other person she allowed to be so close and that was because Camila was needy, and she got whiny when she was needy. “Where are you off to then?”

“It’s Paris. I was just going to pick a direction and walk.”

Ava was intrigued, she looked behind Beatrice to the door. “What? Like, wander the streets?”

“Something along those lines.”

The man returned with Beatrice’s coat, throwing it on the counter in front of them without much fanfare. He looked at Ava expectantly and annoyed.

She ignored him, eyes meeting Beatrice’s. “Actually, can I tag along?”

Okay, that was unexpected. Beatrice blinked a few times, the requests simmering for a few seconds before she answered with a small crack in her voice, “With…me?”

 “Sounds better than the expected.”

“I’m not opposed.”

“Yeah?” Ava inquired timidly, eyes shone with sudden perkiness.

The air outside changed Beatrice’s mood immediately. It was cold and crisp and exactly what she needed. She put her hands in her pockets, waiting for Ava to come outside. She needed a few minutes to greet her friends before breaking the news to them. She looked around spotting The Arc de Triomphe and a myriad of vehicles and scooters going around the plaza; how they managed to make it to any of the avenues was a mystery to her. The trees danced in the breeze, their leaves littering the streets while the warm city lights set up the perfect backdrop for an evening stroll.

Ava emerged from the club, her Louis Vuitton’s making contact with the concrete street. “So, where are we off to on this fine evening?”

“Up to you,” Beatrice responded, kicking a small rock with her shoe. The rock bounced a few times before coming to a stop by Ava.

“Hmm,” Ava considered for a moment, literally turning in every direction and without saying anything else, began to walk. Beatrice found herself yet again jogging to catch up, just like a few weeks ago.

They walked side by side as little puffs of warm air became visible with every step. It was strange, seeing Ava like this, out in the natural world. All that she had ever seen or heard of the artist was through Camila’s phone or some controversy that made it to the weekly news roundup. ‘Pop Star Yells At Photographer’, because how dare she be in her right to do so. She considered that maybe it is akin to spotting a capybara walking down the street, interesting and odd. And then as the shock vanished, concerned for its safety.

“I didn’t have you pegged as a fashionista,” Ava spoke as they made their way through a crossing.

“I seem to recall you calling me slick last time.” Beatrice’s hands were in her coat pocket. She was finding it difficult to be normal, so pretending to be casual was the next best thing. Ava was actively engaging in conversation, unlike last time. Beatrice wasn’t sure how much in common they had and it was making her nervous.

“I mean, yes, you have a sense of style, but I never would have thought you’d be walking down a runway during Paris Fashion Week, much less for McQueen.”

Beatrice feigned heart pain,“I’m a little hurt by your comment.”

Ava’s mouth curved into a smirk. “I just meant you seem to be fitting in remarkably well.”

“To be perfectly honest, I was kind of freaking out backstage the whole time, my nails can attest to that,” Beatrice said, wiggling her fingers in Ava’s direction. They were a great shame right now.

Ava held her hand for a few seconds gazing upon the massacre.“Oh wow. Yeah, that’s a lot of damage.”

They continued down the picturesque streets, passing by Parisians and tourists alike. The night seemed to slow down with every step they took. Beatrice found herself relating to Ava slightly even if it was just superficial at the moment. A strange kind of kinship was bubbling up. An understanding of sorts. “Does it get easier?” she found herself asking for some strange reason that she couldn’t quite explain. 

Ava took a few seconds to answer her question, but eventually did. “I think we’re all just faking it all the time, and that’s okay.” She looked ahead, “I think once you grow comfortable you lose your edge.”

Beatrice nodded in understanding.

By this point they had made it around to the other side of the monument, taking a right at des Champs-Élysées. This was a common walk for Beatrice having done it alone and also beside her parents many times throughout the years, but something about it at night brought out her inner art geek. It was as if she had entered a painting.

“I can see why Impressionists were obsessed with this avenue.” Ava said, as if reading her mind.

Beatrice physically stopped. “Now, that I wasn’t expecting to hear.”

“I’m a little hurt by your comment,” Ava mimicked her, hand on her heart as well.

Beatrice rolled her eyes jokingly. “Alright, you got me.”

“Who’s your favourite?”

They continued walking, they were entering the busier areas now. “I couldn’t possibly pick just one!” Beatrice broke their cadence to let a few people through. “Even asking me which art movement is my favourite would be a difficult question to answer.”

Ava deviated slightly, joining Beatrice again. “Come on, which ninja turtle?”

“Obviously Donatello, he can kick some serious ass with that staff.” She found herself enjoying Ava’s company, small cracks in the pop star image were beginning to show. She needed to know more. “Yours?”

“Goya.” Ava answered easily, as if the question wasn’t difficult at all. 

“Okay, that’s very on the nose.”

“Because I’m Spanish?” Ava said with a slight whine, and then her voice impossibly low, “I understand his paintings, or at least I hope I do,” and if the streets were any busier she would have missed it.

Beatrice’s gaze fell on Ava, the moment mutated into something unexpected. Though Ava appeared to be amicable and carefree on the outside, Beatrice knew that she was hiding something. Neither had spoken about what Beatrice had overheard that day and Goya was not exactly known for beautiful works of art, rather, how his works became progressively darker due to societal transformations around his time. He had a resounding bleak outlook on life and Ava just didn’t match that. She allowed her an out. “I like Caravaggio. He’s like magic when it comes to light. Always changing our perspectives.”

“A traditionalist then? Not surprising.”

“Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?”

—

Ava settled by a table in front of the small cafe. Through the shop window she could see Beatrice speaking amicably while placing their order. The night had somehow become cooler and hot chocolates were definitely in order. They had been walking for quite some time, long enough for the back of her ankles to start protesting. She had found that she enjoyed Beatrice’s company, though the woman was innocently haughty at times. 

She glanced around a couple of times, wary of the environment around her. Ava knew better than to entertain the idea that she wasn’t a celebrity, but the coast seemed clear and the night had turned out to be better than expected. At least until she looked at her phone and the amount of missed calls waiting for her. She would ignore it for now, not wanting to ruin the moment.

Beatrice was making her way back, hands occupied with desserts. She bounced on one foot while holding the door open with the other, squeezing between the small opening of the doorway.

She made her way to Ava, a smug grin adorning her features. “I didn’t know what you’d like so I picked a few things.” She deposited the three plates on the table with so much grace that Ava considered asking if it came from experience.

Ave leaned forward, taking in each dessert. “Wow, these look amazing. What are we looking at?”

“Apple galette, a strawberry mille-feuille with mascarpone and the French staple, a chocolate soufflé.” Beatrice replied in a perfect French accent that was definitely doing things to her head.

“Show off,” Ava chastised, grabbing one of the spoons and heading straight for the soufflé.

Beatrice picked up a spoon matching Ava’s lead.“Ugh! The galette is so warm and crunchy.” She sighed, her mouth still wrapped around the spoon. Beatrice went in for seconds.  And it was at this moment that Ava started to pay attention. She physically felt herself shift closer, wanting to get a better look. The uninhibited smile, the dusting of freckles across Beatrice’s nose, all culminating with her eyes turning into small crescents. 

Their hot chocolates arrived, giving Ava an excuse to look away. Beatrice was cute, in that dorky kind of way that always managed to be endearing. She watched Beatrice pull out what appeared to be a small notebook from her coat pocket, pen neatly tucked inside. She pulled the elastic holding everything together and set the book on the table. Ava watched with amusement as she scribbled a few words followed by a rough sketch of the desserts. Yeah, massive dork.

“Is that your song journal?” Ava leaned forward trying to catch a glimpse.

Beatrice nodded, while adding the finishing touches to the mille-feuille. 

“Can I see?”

The notebook closed so quickly that Ava thought she imagined the whole thing.“Oh, absolutely not.”

“Aww come on! You’ve got little drawings and everything is colour coded and you’ve even highlighted,” Ava sprung up suddenly sitting next to Beatrice who shook her head anticipating what was coming. “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”

She could tell Beatrice was beginning to get nervous, her hands played with the elastic of the journal, contemplating. Ava reached into her coat pocket procuring a notebook of her own. Unlike Beatrice’s hers was much more worn, the seam was coming undone, pages were missing and randomly stuffed in, with a single rubber band holding everything together.

Beatrice looked so aghast that you might as well have told her Elton John was retiring and there was no farewell tour. “That’s…your song journal?”

“In the flesh. This puppy has been with me for exactly one year,” Ava patted the poor thing.

“I would have thought more given the state of it.”

Ava held the journal down, afraid of it suddenly conjuring legs, “Don’t look at him like that, he gets offended and disappears.”

Beatrice tapped her journal, and Ava could tell she was thinking about her offer. 

“I’ll show you one page. Exactly one page…” Beatrice caught the mischief in her eyes and continued, “of my choosing.”

Ava stuck out her hand in agreement, and they shook, “Deal.” And without being prompted began to pass through the pages for her journal, not lingering on a page for very long. She could see the horrified look on Beatrice’s face with every scratched out sentence and terrible penmanship that passed. Most of it was in Spanish anyway, which she was sure Beatrice couldn’t read. 

“What the heck was that? Was that a drawing of a turkey in fishnets?”

Ava ignored her and stopped at a page, pushing the seam of the notebook down.

MOTOMAMI MOTOMAMI MOTOMAMI

MOTOMAMI MOTOMAMI MOTOMAMI

MOTOMAMI MOTOMAMI MOTOMAMI

TARARÁ, Tarará, ta-ta

Tarará, ta-tara 

MOTOMAMI MOTOMAMI MOTOMAMI

MOTOMAMI MOTOMAMI MOTOMAMI

MOTOMAMI MOTOMAMI MOTOMAMI

TARARÁ, Tarará, ta-ta

Tarará-tara -tara!!

“Okay, wow I don’t know what to say. I guess the state of the notebook should have clued me in.” Beatrice was still staring at the open page.

“It’s an art.”

She looked up, not sure what to say. Then looked down at the journal again, “Is this for a new album you’re writing?”

Ava nodded, closing the journal and wrapping the rubber band around the monstrosity, “I’m trying to be more playful this time around, less traditional.” She chose her words carefully. “Everyone has been giving me a hard time about it, but it’s turning into something special.”

“Do you have much freedom?” Beatrice asked, she was being naively genuine, probably due to how new she was to the industry.

Ava drummed her fingernails, the subject matter not something she enjoyed speaking about. “Not exactly. Between my company and manager breathing down my neck, it’s a miracle that I've been able to get some studio time booked.”

“I understand. We’re being pressured to write more palatable music. “ She sighed, “it has restricted my writing.”

Ava huffed, a little bothered. “What I wouldn’t give to write something stupid and relatable.”

She could tell Beatrice was surprised by what she had said, “What do you mean? Aren’t a lot of your songs popular?”

“Whenever I do features, yeah. And a few of my singles can be considered mainstream, but as a whole my albums are traditional flamenco with some pop elements.”

It was strange, conversations like this were not common, or she rarely entertained them, especially with her peers. She had followed the same methodology now for two albums, and it was beginning to disinterest her, but no one around her wanted to rock the boat. Changing her sound meant alienating her core audience, not to mention her country.

“Will you be recording in London?”

Ava was surprised by this. “You remembered? 

“I’ve been told the elephant is my spirit animal on more than one occasion.”

“How is that not surprising?” Ava said fondly. “Yes, London, there’s a producer I want to work with that understands the change I’m going for.” She looked at Beatrice curiously, “Maybe you can show me around, like you promised?”

Beatrice smiled again, crescents and all, and Ava was pretty sure she wanted to keep seeing that happen. 

“As long as I don’t end up having to piggyback you to your hotel.” Beatrice reached down rubbing her right leg, “I don’t think my calf has recovered.”

“I mean, you were very comfy.”

They both giggled. The moment lingered for just a few seconds. Then, Beatrice picked up her spoon, this time having a tiny corner of the souffle. Ava cast her eyes down to Beatrice’s journal, “Alright. You have to keep your side of the deal.”

Beatrice watched her skeptically. She brought her journal to her face, passing several pages until she set the book back down. This page was neat, lacking any of the drawings Ava had seen earlier. There was something about the way Beatrice watched her that told her this was important.

'Cause now that I'm your age

Not a secret, not a problem, not a secret, not a martyr

'Cause now that I'm your age

Not a mistake, not a weakness, not a failure, not a problem

'Cause now that I'm your age

I survived the social suicide, not a secret, not a problem

'Cause now that I'm your age

Yeah, I survived the social suicide, not a failure, not a martyr

Ava closed the notebook slowly, careful not to damage any of the pages. The lyrics were personal enough that she felt she was intruding. Of course she had heard the band's EP along with the rest of the world, but had just assumed the songs had been written for them. They were catchy and uncontroversial. But this? This was different. 

She hadn’t realised just how quiet she had been until Beatrice said, “What do you think?” 

There was a bit of vulnerability in the way she spoke, which wrapped itself around Ava’s heart. “Is there more like this?” She hoped she didn’t need to specify what she meant.

Beatrice nodded. “It’s therapeutic, writing it down, assigning it structure.” She had a far off look as she continued. “I had a difficult upbringing.”

“Me too.” Ava leaned back in her chair, “Music feels like a release.” She wrapped her arms around herself. “Will you show me once you finish it? I want to hear it.”

“Chances are the label will push against it.” Ava could tell the subject irritated Beatrice, but her face showed no signs of it. “They want soundbites, which are uncreative and end up overshadowing the entire song.”

One of the cafe employees walked over to retrieve some of their empty plates, Beatrice sprung up to help and while she was distracted Ava took the pen from the table, tore a piece of paper from her journal and scribbled a quick message. She slipped it into Beatrice’s journal as the woman walked back to the cafe with the employee, a mug in each hand. A few seconds later Beatrice returned, and Ava sat back relieved with what she accomplished.

“Beatrice.” She found that she enjoyed saying the name out loud, it rolled easily off her tongue with far too much affection for only truly knowing Beatrice a short time. “You and your bandmates have all the power on your side. The industry cannot keep their hands away from you all.” Ava wanted to will her into listening.

“That’s easy for someone like you to say, you’ve been doing this a long time.”

“It’s not about that, you know? You need to fight for what you want.”

Recognition sat between them. Beatrice’s eyes bore into her, “Will you?”

A small town car pulled to the side of the road opposite the cafe, Ava’s gaze fell upon it, already resigned to what it meant. Beatrice followed her eyes, shifting uncomfortably on her chair. Emilia stepped out from one of the backseats, clearly irritated. She crossed her arms watching the two of them. Ava stood, pocketing her journal. “Let’s do it then. Let’s fight for what we want.”she stretched out her hand and waited for Beatrice’s own.

The atmosphere inside the car was predictable. Angry manager, check. Elusive Ava, double check. She knew better than to speak first, and the way Emilia was looking at her solidified that. The rules had been broken and she was going to get an earful.

“I thought we had agreed on L’Arc,” Emila began. “I thought I had been generous.”

Ava kept her eyes on Beatrice, she was still sitting by the table, eyes on the town car. “You were.” Why hadn’t she left yet? “You’ll be happy to know I didn’t choose to get wasted tonight.”

Emilia rummaged through her purse. “I can see that.” She pulled her phone out, swiping a few times before nodding to the driver. The car shifted forward and Ava watched from her window as Beatrice became small behind them, it didn’t go unnoticed. “Have you prepared for tomorrow’s interview?”

“What, no yelling?” She should have kept her mouth shut, now she’s definitely going to get it.

Emilia sighed, she searched Ava’s eyes. “I don’t always have to be the enemy you know.” Well, this was new. Okay, not new, Emilia raised her, Ava knew that her adoptive aunt had her best interest in mind, but recently, she felt like she was being suffocated by everyone around her. “You surprised me, that's all. I’m happy you chose a quiet evening.”

“Me too.”

—

When Beatrice arrived back in London to their newly rented recording studio, it was to a room full of sullen faces. Camila and Yasmin were huddled together on the couch across the console tables, faces inches away from a phone. Lilith sat on a chair beside them, arms crossed in annoyance. It was eerily quiet, which alerted Beatrice at once, it was rarely this quiet when they were around each other.

She closed the door behind her, carefully making her way towards them. “What’s going on?”

It was Lilith who spoke up, voice slightly hostile, not something Beatrice experienced often, “They’ve been at it all morning…scrolling across our socials.” She ran her hands over the armrests. “I’ve told them to stop, it’s not going to just go away.”

Beatrice looked at Yasmin and Camila, they had barely even acknowledged her presence and that was concerning. “Is everything okay? Did something happen?”

Camila sighed, not moving her eyes from the phone as Yasmin continued to scroll. “There’s a lot of racist and sexist comments, more than usual.”

Beatrice nodded solemnly, lowering herself to sit on the floor in front of them. This wasn’t new to them, it has been a constant ever since their swift rise to fame. Between the racism and the industry plant comments, Beatrice couldn’t keep up and she wasn't one to endlessly self-flagellate by checking their feeds. She also knew that her capacity to take abuse was not everyones. “Camila, I know that it’s difficult to read these things about us, but lingering on it or giving it attention won't help.”

“I know that, don’t you think I know not to get hung up about this? We’ve been trained, I know the rules.” Her eyes were beginning to pool, “I just would like to interact with our fans without accidentally going through a rant about you or Yasmine or Mary. You don’t deserve it.”

Yasmine set her phone down and gently rubbed Camila’s back as a way of comfort. “We’re used to these things, Cam. Water off a duck's back.”

Something snapped in Beatrice after Yasmine’s comment. The dejected way the line was delivered as if it had been rehearsed time and time again. Why should they resort to just brushing it off? She stood, paced the room. They needed to fight back. Her journal felt heavy in her coat pocket. “Let’s do something about it then.” She felt something light within her, setting her ablaze with action. 

Lilith watched her, her brown eyes keeping pace with her angry strut. “What do you have in mind?”

Beatrice pulled her journal from her pocket, slamming it onto the console table. “The only thing we can do…” she smirked, “apart from murder.” The girls smiled as she rolled the other free chair close to her bandmates, opened the journal and leaned it on top of her crossed legs.

It must have been close to the one hour mark when Mary walked into the studio. Beatrice now behind the glass wall waved in her direction, one headphone off her ear. The recording sign was on and the only person by the controls was Camila. 

Mary set her bass down. “What have I missed?”

Camila spun to greet her with a mischievous glint in her eyes. “We are in the middle of a riposte to racism!” The call to action was masked by the bubbly delivery.

Mary’s eyebrows shot up. “I didn’t think that was in the cards for today, but I am glad to hear it.” She leaned over the console pressing the intercom button and speaking  into the microphone. “What are we cooking?”

Beatrice’s voice came through the speakers, “We’ve got a verse and a bit of the chorus. Drums and guitar are there, but we need you.” She had a music stand under the microphone in front of her, her journal lay open flat against it.

Once Mary was plugged in she directed her attention to Camila. “Let’s go through what we have and I’ll jump in once I figure out the structure.”

Without hesitation, Lilith began to play the aggressive cords, a blend of nu metal and heavy metal. And Mary must not have expected this because her eyes shot open. Then, Yasmine joined with her drums, thrashing along with Lilith’s headbanging beat.

“Okay! Yeah, I like it. Keep going!” She looked at Beatrice, “Words?

(*)

Patience, overrated

If you want it, come and get it

The feeling, need to mention

Rips me open, rips me open

I'm not being naturally negative, no

I don't wanna be that girl again, 'cause

I've been done and been through more friends

Than I can count on my fingertips

Beatrice sang with her eyes closed and with an annoyed inflection that added to the overall mood of the lyrics. The years of trauma were clearly coming out today. Mary raised her hand, the music came to a halt. 

“On ‘ I’m not being naturally negative ’ we need to tone it down, the message needs to be heard.” She did a quick progression on her bass to illustrate what she meant. “No guitar just this, so cool it Lilith.”

Yasmin nodded. “Like Korn?” 

“Exactly like Korn.”

“We should pick it up again after fingertips .” Lilith added.

Beatrice drank from her bottle, keeping track of what her bandmates were saying. She made a few notes on her journal before speaking up. “Am I staying the same?”

“Yeah, let's run it again from the first bar.”

The studio speakers turned on and Camila spoke, “Running it again from Patience .” Once they were all satisfied with the changes and Mary found her place they continued on with the rest of the verse.

How come you don't detest me?

I am your medicine

And your reality, why don't you just sit down and?

“For the chorus we were thinking something that kind of sounds like we’re mocking them.” Beatrice picked up her journal singing from it. “ Have you ever thought about taping your big mouth shut? 'Cause I have, many times, many times.” Her voice coming off childish and teasing.

Yasmine kept the beat lightly, “Camila made a cute jingle earlier for it!”

A few hours later once the instruments were all recorded and the song structure was almost complete, Beatrice was the only one left by her microphone. The rest of the girls gathered by the console table listening to her voice and giving instruction or advice as the recording session stretched on. 

“I really think you should laugh. We’re mocking them, you have to laugh.” Mary’s voice came through the speakers.

Beatrice was nodding along, there were ink blotches all over her hand and her journal was starting to look like Ava’s. That was a stretch, that’s impossible. “You want me to laugh?”

“Yeah, like maniacally, like you’ve had to put up with this bullshit for so long that you’re losing yourself in all the hate.”

Beatrice raised one of her eyebrows. “Fine…fine, just turn around or something, this is embarrassing.” Once the girls spun around on their chairs she did just that, she laughed except it was so weak that the girls burst out laughing.

“Beatrice, be the psychopath we all know you truly are. No one sane folds their underwear that meticulously.” Lilith was trying to elicit something from her. And on the second try she managed to sound so deranged that the entire studio was dead silent for a few seconds.

“Moving on to the end. The big scream. The BIG release.”

Like the first time 

Like the first time, yeah

Like the first time, Like the first time

Like the first timeeeeeeeeee

YEeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!!!!!!!!!!

Beatrice’s vocal cords were burning up by this point. She reached for her bottle, hoping for any kind of moisture to run down her throat. “Please, tell me you got it.”

She heard Camila say, “We got it!”

“ — something like ‘ shut the fuck up ’,” Yasmine was talking when she walked back into console room. “ Shut the fuck up, shut the fuck up, shut the fuck up –like you don’t want to hear it anymore.”

Camila nodded enthusiastically, taken aback by Yasmine’s addition, “I like it, I like it!”

Beatrice dropped onto the couch across from her bandmates. She was exhausted, mentally, physically, vocally and probably emotionally as well. Lilith stood and made her way back inside the recording space. “What’s going on?”

“Lilith wants to add a bit of growling and screaming in the end.”

“Oh, good yeah that sounds good.” She was pretty sure she was delirious at this point. “I’m just going to lay down.” But before she could even slide her shoes off her feet Lilith came close to the glass. She was holding a small piece of paper and face contorted to an angry sort of smirk.

“Why do you have Ava Silva’s number tucked into your journal?”

“Pardon?”

She held the paper up to the glass. And it was at this point that Beatrice regretted not getting lasik eye surgery. The girls turned to her, an explanation required. Where had the paper even come from? She hadn’t seen it herself. When did Ava even do this?

Mary’s face was neutral, clearly hoping that Beatrice had an answer to provide. “Is there something we should know?”

“Yeah, is there something we should know, Beatrice Young.” Camila joined in full naming her, she looked slightly betrayed, Beatrice knew exactly what was running through her mind. 

“You’ve been quite adamant about your distaste for Ava and her disservice to music.” Yasmin’s face was puzzled, and she should be, it’s not like Beatrice hid the way she felt about Ava or any mainstream artist.

“I didn’t even know that was in my journal.”

“She gave you her number?” Camila tiptoed closer with her chair. It would have been cute, except Camila wanted blood. “You? I thought she and I had a connection. We bonded over buñuelos!”

The silence on her part was not helping the situation. And she couldn’t even figure out why she was quiet, it’s not like she was trying to hide Ava. She felt unreasonably dirty, hiding this part of herself from them. “We’ve spoken a few times, industry stuff. I’ve asked for advice.” Well, that’s not all of it, but she had to start somewhere.

“Industry stuff?” Mary deadpanned, running a hand through her braids.

Lilith emerged from the other room and made her way to Beatrice. She regarded Beatrice for a second before extending the piece of paper to her. “Just how much time have you and Ava been spending together?”

Ava’s name was written on the small sheet of paper and underneath a set of numbers.

Beatrice knew she was blushing. Her heart felt like a kickdrum in her chest and the tops of her ears felt hot. She had thought of Ava, how could she not? Coming to terms with this small crush– no she wasn’t going to call it that. This wasn’t that. She hoped it wasn’t that. She was sure Ava probably treated her friends the same way, whatever connection Beatrice thought they shared was probably a normal occurrence to Ava anyway. So, she was going to push down whatever this was and think of Ava as a workmate. People shared their disdain and gossip with their workmates. And that was this and this wasn't anything else. 

Mary shook her head, amused. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you blush before.”

Beatrice shook her head. “I’m not blushing.” 

“And I’m Adele.”

Lilith rolled her eyes and grabbed her coat from the hook nearby. “I’m going to go have a drink, I can’t deal with this right now,” She said, shaking her hand towards Beatrice before walking out the door.

The room fell silent after Lilith’s leave. She was sure her bandmates were considering just how much of a transgression this was. “You guys are putting me on the spot for absolutely no reason, I promise, no funny business.” Yasmine and Mary were listening, at least attempting to understand, which was good, but on the other hand Camila was staring daggers, which could be deadly.

“Yes, Camila?”

Camila pushed herself away dramatically, when the back of chair hit the consoles she spun, “Pray Ava and I aren’t alone together Beatrice, my lips might just reveal one of your anti rants.”

Yup. Deadly.

—

“Michael.” Ava called after her producer. She was sitting in front of a computer, an audio mixing software opened with cascading voice samples descending in different colours. She cleared her throat waiting for his reply.

“Yeah?’ 

She ran a hand across her mouth. “I think I like the shortened para . The flow goes with the next line a lot better.” With her right hand she wiggled her finger along as she sang, “ Rumba pa' matar, ¿dónde es que pa' romper? Yo firmé la cancha con broche de esmalte .” She clicked a few times not waiting for his reply and then the song bounced around the studio.

(*)

Rumba pa’ –

Space button, click

–Rumba pa’ matar

Ava continued to click,  messing with the structure of the song. She hummed along and as the changes started to take place.

¿dónde es que pa' –

Space button, click

 –romper?

Space button, click

 –romper?

Space button, click

 –romper?

Michael walked up to her side, checking on the progress. “Let’s hear it again.”

The chorus played through fully without being stopped. “Better?” Ava glanced up for confirmation.

He nodded. “Loads.”

“I’ll take the drive tonight, I want to keep working on it.” She pushed off from the desk, the wheels beneath spun her towards one of the many consoles in the studio. On top was her journal, the rubber band holding everything together was now sporting a knot. She pushed off after grabbing it, smashing back into the desk. After finding a pen she hastily scribbled a few notes and slammed the thing shut. 

Michael inhaled deeply as Ava tore the drive off the desktop. She didn’t even safely eject it. “You have to be more careful with that, you know?”

She pulled up the backpack that was on the floor, throwing a few things from around the desk into it, followed by the drive and her journal. “Yeah, yeah… it’ll be fine.” He kept staring in concern. “I promise I have like four of these and they're all backups of backups.” 

He nodded wearily conceding, then, walked around the studio turning various things off for the night. He spoke as he flipped a few switches, “I’m meeting a couple of friends for dinner if you want to tag along. They’re also producers…” Ava was looking down at the desk where her phone was. “…based here in London.”

“Hmm?” She lazily replied, the phone grabbing all her attention.

Unknown Number

[You never told me which turtle you are.]

“Dinner with friends?” He repeated himself, uncertain.

It was Beatrice. After two weeks of radio silence here she was. And Ava, well, Ava wasn’t sure what to think yet. She thought she had accidentally dropped the note in all the rush to get it into Beatrice’s journal, that or she had spooked her, but by the look of the text Beatrice didn’t spook easily. She typed in a reply, a small smile creeping onto her lips.

[Leonardo, all the way.]

“Ava?” Michael leaned against one of the consoles looking at her curiously. “Did I lose you somewhere? I asked if you wanted to come to dinner with some friends?”

“Oh!” She pocketed the phone and made a grab for her backpack. “I think I’ll pass. Like I said, editing session and all.” Technically it wasn’t a complete lie, she would work on the song. And if Beatrice texted, that was just a bonus. 

He grabbed his own bag, slinging it across his torso. “Alright, I’ll see you Thursday?”

“I might be able to come earlier depending on how long the photoshoot ends up taking.” The phone vibrated in her pocket and it was so automatic to pull it out again and look at the preview. 

[Oh, well, that answers it. I was beginning to wonder how you managed to slip your number without me noticing.]

Michael must have walked to the door, she could hear the handle as it twisted, “Just let me know of any changes you make.” 

“I will.” She sat back down, way too consumed with the phone in front of her to pay much more attention to Michael as he left. Would replying back to Beatrice so quickly be the right thing to do? Was she meant to reply at all? She wasn’t sure, it was all a bit open ended. After assigning Beatrice’s number to her contacts she once again stared at the text message.

[I’m sneaky, like a nun.]

Hand meet face.

Backspaceeeeeeeeeee. 

Actually, that was funny. And casual.

[I’m sneaky, like a nun.]

She stood, shut the screen and pocketed the device in one smooth motion. She physically had to distance herself from it. The anticipation for a reply was so overwhelming that she was sure her excitement was showing. Without giving the thought another second to make a cozy nest in her head, she grabbed her backpack and coat and walked out the door. Earphones went in and shuffle was pressed.

(*)

But you been so out of touch, touch, touch, touch, touch

Thought about you way too much, much, much, much, much

As she walked down the hallway towards the lift one of the doors to the offices opened. Emilia emerged from the small room, she seemed weary. Ava knew she had been dealing with studio heads all day. She hoped her small wave would be enough to divert a conversation, but the woman spoke.

She pulled one of her earphones out, cutting off the music. “What?”

Emilia crossed her arms, shaking her head fondly. “I said, ‘are you done for the night’?”

“Heading home.” She pulled on her backpack straps, always fiddling. Emilia always had a knack of making her tense. “How did the meetings go?”

“They went well. A lot of placating and promising.” Emilia removed the glasses she was wearing, gently rubbing her left eye.

Ava knows what she has asked of Emilia is difficult. This kind of bargaining takes time, there’s expectations. And trust, which has to go both ways. She’s jumping genres, she could lose her fanbase, and that’s deadly when there’s a lot of money at stake. “Thank you for doing this for me. I know it’s a lot to ask, but I promise that I’ll work hard.”

Emilia sighed, glancing at the floor, choosing her words. “I know you will. What I don’t know is the in between.” Emilia has her reservations, Ava has not played fair recently, she has been spiraling and taking everyone with her. And the way everyone has behaved around her, like she was falling apart, really changed the way Emilia and the rest of the team worked together. Babysitting was the correct term, they were babysitting her.

“I’ll text you once I’m home.” She anticipated the request before it came. 

Emilia nodded, slipping her glasses back on. “I might fly back to Barcelona tomorrow if everything goes well.”

That’s unexpected and it must show on her face because Emilia is running her nails across her arm, in an anxious manner. “Oh okay. That sounds good.” 

Emilia was apprehensive about leaving Ava. “Do you need me at the photoshoot?”

She wouldn’t squander this. This was freedom, or something that was close enough to it. “I just need the team. I’ll be good, more than good, I’ll be great. And I’ll keep you updated and send you flowers!” Ava found herself charging forward, enveloping Emilia in a hug,

“Okay, okay!” She patted Ava’s back affectionately. “I’m trusting you Ava. I want things to go back to normal. I’m doing what you’ve asked, so please behave.”

The night breeze ran through her the moment she stepped outside, she considered putting her coat on, but spotted the town car parked in front of the building. Once inside the driver greeted her, pulled the car from the curb and made his way to her rental, a small apartment in the city, with enough basic items to reheat takeout. 

She slipped her headphones back in, please to find a text message waiting for her.

Monday I was dreaming 'bout ya

Tuesday I was waiting near the phone

Two days, wasn't hearing from ya

Donatello

[I didn’t know nuns were sneaky. Also, hello. How are you?]

[I’m well, thank you.]

[When should I schedule a tour?]

[You’re in London?]

[As of three days ago.]

[Unfortunately, we’re in New York.]

[What are you guys up to?]

[About to record a Jimmy Fallon interview.]

[Jimmy is a blast! You’re going to have so much fun.]

[I hope so, everyone's really excited.]

[I kept my end of the deal.]

[We recorded some of the songs from my journal. The album is starting to take shape.]

[Yeah?]

[I’m glad to hear it. I’m also trying to.]

[I think I’ve earned some slack with good behaviour.]

[I should be back by the end of the week if you’d like to book a tour.]

[Pen me in!]

But you been so out of touch, touch, touch, touch, touch

Thought about you way too much, much, much, much, much

Over overthinking us, us, us, us, us

'Cause you been so out of touch

—

Beatrice was knackered, and that was putting it lightly. Their week in New York had been busy. They had all been pulled in different directions, at Suzanne’s request. Camila had been in piano and vocal training, Lilith and Mary much the same except in their case guitar and bass, and Yasmine had spent minimal time doing any kind of drumming, her time taken up instead by media training. And Beatrice had survived her final drama lesson. 

She had been dropped off at an apartment straight out of a 70’s bohemian magazine everyday at 8 am until 12pm with a woman that frightened the shit out of her. What would a singer need with drama training you may ask? She didn’t know, but she had made a fool of herself enough times to warrant a complete aversion to it for the rest of her life.

By the time they had even realised where they were, their team had packed up and shipped them straight back to London. They all sat in a van from the airport to meet Robert Wun, a new designer creating waves across the world. The girls were excited, having just been informed hours prior that they had been extended an invitation to next year's Met Gala. They were to have their measurements taken, along with a quick rundown of their likes and dislikes.

She had taken the window seat for entirely selfish reasons. There was definitely going to be a red indent on her forehead, but she was tired and she needed rest. Camila had found her shoulder comfortable, too far gone in her own sleep to notice the small pool of drool gathering by the side of her mouth. Yasmin, Lilith and Mary sat in front of them in various stages of disinterest, but knowing full well to not clash against Suzanne’s wishes.

(*)

Dirtmouth cut out for a few seconds as a text message came in.

Leonardo

[Good morning! I think you’ve touched down.]

[Good morning, Ava]

[Yes, we’re here, but have a last minute meeting to get to.]

[I think I’ll still make it to our appointment.]

[I’ll wear my most comfortable shoes!]

“Who are you texting?” Camila inquired, twisting her head towards the screen. 

“Uh…um,” She scrambled for a reply, noting the way Camila’s eyebrows scrunched up with her non answer. “Leo. Leo, he’s an old uni friend who wants to catch up.”

Camila considers her for a few seconds, no doubt going through their years of uni together. “I don’t remember a Leo?” She sits back against the car seat, “Was he the one that did that beautiful rendition of Enya’s Only Time with the bagpipes?”

Surely, this was a test. “…Yes…I think so?”

Camila’s mouth opened, and she could tell she was about to be reprimanded, but Levy turned around, his big eyebrows bulging off his forehead. “Now, ladies when we enter the consecrated grounds of the atelier I want everyone to be on their best behaviour!”

Mary and Lilith had learned to ignore him by now, while Yasmine nodded eagerly. 

Once inside the atelier they were taken into a large white room with parquet flooring and top to bottom windows that let the morning sun in. Various sketches of hooded figures aligned the walls, with several Polaroids of models before and after fittings. The attendants all stood waiting for them, a couple of teams had been put in place to handle all five of them. Levy spoke to the seamstresses for several minutes as they all dispersed taking in the expanse of the room and the various pictures and illustrations around.

The room quieted the moment Robert arrived. He gave them all a big wave before sitting on the desk set for him, laptop open and sketchpad plugged in. 

The measurements were quick, the attendants were all highly experienced among the chaos that was handling five rough around the edges band girls. Beatrice could see the designer working along, watching them closely. At some point he pulled out a charcoal pencil, drawing a flowing dress with an enormous veil. 

Beatrice was the last one out at foyer, her bandmates had gathered there excitedly speaking about the rough sketches they were allowed to see. She grabbed her coat from the coat rack, not bothering to do any of the buttons. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow, I’m exhausted.”

Mary raised her hand to stop her, making contact with her tummy. “Hold up a minute. Levy is dropping us off.” 

“That’s okay, I’m just going to take the Tube,” She pushed forward slightly, determined not to be questioned too closely.

Mary lowered her hand, she was suspicious but didn’t inquire further.

After twenty five minutes she arrived at Fenchurch street, cut through Talbort court and followed the road down to St Dunstan. The church was damaged during the Second World War and now was a public garden that invited the public to gather underneath its enormous canopies.

She crept along the ruins, as the yellow leaves rustled along her feet. English ivy covered the old walls, all in different states of decay. Ava sat along the boundary wall waiting for her. She wore a brown and white plaid pleated long skirt and a baggy crew neck sweater over a white collared shirt. The small snapback on top of her head was too big and endearing.

Ava must have felt her coming because when she looked up a smile radiated all through her face. “Donatello!” She regarded her for a few seconds then got up and met her halfway, before occupying her space with a big hug.

They pulled apart, carefully observing each other. “Hello, Leonardo.”

Ava reached for the ruff of her coat, tugging it playfully, “Why do you always look so cozy? 

“I dress for comfort, of course.”

“Of course! How could I be so foolish!”

They walked in silence for a few minutes taking in the way the light dispersed down from the remaining foliage. “How did you find the church? I apologise for running late, can’t hasten agitated seamstresses lest they poke you like a pin cushion.”

“The church is beautiful, I definitely did the touristy thing of taking way too many photos and reading the educational material.”

“And how did you find it?”

“Very interesting actually, I cannot believe it still stands after everything.” Ava leapt up onto one of the small barriers that lined the perimeter of the garden. She set one foot in front of the other, careful not to lose balance. “Do you come here often or something?”

(*)

Heaven, I'm in heaven

And my heart beats so that I can hardly speak

And I seem to find the happiness I seek

When we're out together dancing cheek to cheek

“Sometimes, it’s a nice place on a day like this.” Her stomach grumbled a tad loudly. Ava looked at her scandalised. “Sorry, we skipped breakfast and I didn’t have a chance to grab lunch.”

“Beatrice! That simply will not do. Look at you, you’re basically disintegrating in front of me.” She was too animated, forgetting to be careful with her steps. Beatrice would say it happened quickly, but the truth was she had anticipated this. As Ava lost her balance and leaned too much to her right she lost her footing. Her arms flailed aimlessly in every direction until down was the only way she was going. Beatrice stepped closer without any preamble and held her waist with both hands, stabilising her.

The moment stretched longer than it should have. “Are you alright?”

Ava held on to her shoulders, her chest rose up and down as she calmed her breathing. “Yes! Yeah, no yes I’m fine. Thanks for that!”

Beatrice held her hand as Ava jumped off the ledge, happy to be on solid ground. “Lunch?”

They walked a couple of minutes down to a small Cantonese restaurant where she often went. The last minute lunch stragglers sat on the available tables in the small establishment. At the far end there was an empty table, which Beatrice approached with menus in hand. 

Beatrice set her menu down already knowing what she wanted. Ava was next to her examining the menu timidly. “Do you want some help?”

Ava nodded, setting the menu down on the table. “Yes, please.”

“I’m going to order this one,” Beatrice pointed at the two meat + rice combinations. “With the duck and crispy pork. We can share that if you want. Is there anything you’d like to try?”

Ava scanned the menu hesitantly, “Spring rolls?”

She wanted to kind of snicker at how predictable that was, but held it in. “Spring rolls, anything else?” Ava was quiet. “I think you’ll like the sesame prawn toast and we can also get you some fried rice.”

Ava nodded along as Beatrice spoke. “That sounds great!”

The woman at the counter took her order, and for just one second she looked to the back of the restaurant where Ava was, she gazed up at Beatrice giving her a little wave. And the rush of affection that gripped her heart was so substantial that she had to cough on the spot and divert her eyes.

Yes, heaven, I'm in heaven

And the cares that hung around me through the week

Seem to vanish like a gambler's lucky streak

When we're out together dancing cheek to cheek

Their order arrived a few minutes later and they both dug in. Ava eagerly ate a bit of everything while inhaling her bowl of fried rice. Beatrice was much more diligent with the way she ate, a methodical ritual she had developed through the years. 

“I found out this morning that Hadestown is coming to London with the OBC.” Ava spoke up while dipping her spring rolls into soy sauce. “I’m super excited about finally getting to see them in person, the one time I tried they were all on vacation.”

Beatrice was unnerved by the amount of dunking that was taking place. “I actually haven’t the slightest idea of what you’ve just said.”

“The musical! With the original Broadway cast, they’re all coming here to do the show.”

“Oh, I can’t say I’ve watched many musicals.” Ava was looking at her like she had just swatted a child’s ice cream cone to the floor.

“No way! Phantom of the Opera?” A shake of the head. “The Lion King?” Another one. “You have to have seen Wicked at least, right?” Each time Beatrice shook her head Ava got closer, horrified by what she was witnessing.

“Is that the one with the witches on the poster? There’s a movie with Ariana Grande?” 

Ava groaned. “How in the world have you escaped musicals!”

“All too dramatic for my taste.”

Ava slapped her forearm, chastising her. “Take it back!”

“I think Yasmine likes musicals, but she doesn’t involve us. Probably for the best if I’m being honest.”

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t learn this about you and finish my meal,” Ava bit into her sesame toast in a show of power. “I mean how can you not like musicals! There’s so much jolliness and emotional turmoil, all in a two and half hour runtime.”

The rest of the late afternoon was spent walking along the River Thames with the Tower Bridge as their guide. Beatrice stifled what was probably her fourth yawn in a row as the sun began to set. They sat on a bench by the river, it was quiet in the way that there was nothing else to say, and whatever bubble they had constructed was warm and comfortable.

“Tired?”

Beatrice looked down at the watch on her wrist. “Yes, I think I’ve officially been up for a full twenty four hours.”

“Aww Beatrice, you could have said. We could have rescheduled.” Ava was panicked by the admission, pulling out her own phone to look at the time. “I should have been more considerate and offered.”

“It’s quite alright. I wanted to see you.” The way Ava was observing her caused her to backtrack a bit, to something more relaxed. “Plus, it’s better for the jetlag anyway.”

That charm about you

Will carry me through

Chapter Text

The afternoon sun was coming through the studio’s bare windows, the rays of light casting shadows along the carpet. It wasn’t late by any means, but the tilt of the Earth was sure making it seem like it was. Ava sat on a stool with a microphone in front of her. She was in the middle of a recording session with Michael and a couple of other sound engineers. 

She didn’t know what kind of musical spirit had taken over her body, but everything was about this song was working out better than expected. It was surprising how quickly this album was taking shape, which spoke for itself, because it had never flowed so easily in the past. She listened to the playback, taken aback with how much her sound had changed. Even her vocal range had shifted to something lower, more powerful and commanding, she still had her trademark falsettos to fall back on, but this was a good different, something she hoped people would also enjoy.

Michael waved to catch her attention as the song ended, pointing at her phone. She slotted the headphones on top of the stand and stepped outside the recording area to retrieve it. 

“You’ve received a couple of messages, I didn’t want to interrupt.” Michael sat behind the console next to the other engineers, they were still adding some final mixes to the song.

Fuck, Beatrice. She had meant to reply to the lunch request, but had been too caught up with the song. “Thanks, I’ll just be a few minutes.” She stepped outside the studio, closing the door behind her.

Donatello

[Hey, sorry I didn’t hear back about lunch and just wanted to check that we were still doing that?]

[If not, that’s fine I’ll just grab something after vocal training.]

[I’m so sorry Bea!]

[I promise I didn’t forget about you. The creative juices were flowing and I lost track of time.]

[I’m also very sorry you had to read that. Please ignore the juices flowing.]

The dots appeared and reappeared a few times as Ava waited for a reply. Beatrice seemed to either be writing the world's largest text message or she couldn't decide what to respond. 

[That’s okay!]

[I hope everything has been going well at the studio.]

[More than!]

[Are you free now? I’m itching to show the song to someone other than my producer and his minions.]

[I can be persuaded, my couch is very comfortable though.]

[You get to meet Michael Salvius.]

[I’ll be there in twenty.]

Exactly twenty minutes later there was a knock on the studio door. Michael was on his feet first, sliding the door open. Ava watched from behind the glass as the two shook hands and introduced themselves, Michael extended the formality to the others. Beatrice caught her eyes moments later, giving her a small smile.

Ava bounced towards the group. “So, wanna hear it?”

They took a seat while Michael prepped the song for playback.

The song began with a scat on the drums, Ava’s voice sing-talking along. Heavy synthesizers took over the studio speakers, a sound that was strikingly similar to the noise a motorcycle makes when the engine is revved along with drums heavy with intention and rhythm. Beatrice must not have expected this because her eyes became large with astonishment after Ava’s first verse.

(*)

Yo soy muy mía, yo me transformo

Una mariposa, yo me transformo

Makeup de drag queen, yo me transformo

Lluvia de estrellas, yo me transformo

The technical engineers discussed amongst each other as the song went on, still mixing and mastering the sound. Beatrice’s mouth was partially open and Ava could tell she was enjoying it as her foot bounced along with the tempo.

Como un pavo real, bebé

La cerilla al quemar, bebé

Tu cara, tu mirá', bebé

Si te vuelvo a besar, bebé

They had reached the stretch of the song that was still unfinished, it was missing something that they still hadn’t quite figured out, but Ava knew to trust the process, it would come to them, there was no reason to rush it. “We’re still thinking about this part, something to get us to the bridge.”

Beatrice was quiet for a second, still taking in the synths and drums as the beat stretched. “The beginning with the scatting, it’s jazz influenced.” She spoke to Ava who nodded, “Why don’t you continue with something improvisational? Stylistic? Only for that section.”

Michael was listening along now too. “Like an entire change of tone?”

Before Beatrice could reply, Ava took her hand, leading her inside the recording area. “Show me.”

“Is the piano ready?” Beatrice pointed while walking to the instrument.

“Yes.”

Beatrice stood before it, her hand hovering above the keys, thinking. “Start from the second verse.” The verse played, and Beatrice played two notes, then a chord, then another two sets of ascending notes, another chord, both incohesive and discordant. Then, she sat and her hands moved across the keys as if it wasn’t the most impressive thing in the world that she had practically improvised a jazz standard with multiple chord changes and tones. 

(*)

“What the fuck!”

Beatrice was still focused, ignoring Ava’s outburst. “I would increase the frequency of the scatting if you were to do something like this.”

“We’re using exactly that. That’s it.” Ava leaned against the side of the upright piano, “That is if you’re okay with it of course. You’ll get writing credits as well.”

Beatrice was speechless, and her cheeks slightly pink. “I couldn’t. You guys have already done so much and that was like less than ten seconds of work.”

“Oh Beatrice, you beautiful, naive, sophisticated newborn baby, people have done far less for writing credits.” Ava could see Beatrice’s face go from utter confusion to amusement in a span of a second.

“Did you just Parks and Rec. me?”

“Indeed! Ava turned to Michael, “Let’s hear it.”

Once they were all satisfied with the end result and Beatrice’s writing credits were solidified, signed off, and metaphorically stamped, the two women lingered after Michael and his team left for the evening. They both shared the stool in front of the piano where Beatrice had been teaching Ava a few jazz chord progressions, something that had turned out to be more difficult than expected.

“I promise I can play this instrument, you’re just like a crazy piano prodigy,” Ava spoke while messing up the same four chords again.

Beatrice chuckled, raising her hand to hover over Ava’s. She pressed down on Ava’s fingers gently, dragging the hand along the four chords again. “Remember it’s all about spontaneity, even if you mess up just don’t show it, create something else. That’s the point.”

Ava tried again, coming to the same outcome. “You know what, I give up. Maybe jazz isn’t for me.” Beatrice was smirking in a way too smug kinda way and Ava was not having it. “Now, I feel like I need to play something just so you believe me. I can see it on your face. I'm a fraud.” 

Beatrice actually snickered at that. “I promise I don’t think you’re a fraud!”

Ava huffed, hands already on the keys. She was going to play something and she was going to play something so well that the stupid smug grin on Beatrice’s face was going to wish it hadn’t presented itself. 

(*) (*)

The song began softly, just a few notes, and a flourish here and there. Then, the melody slowly became known, the sound took over the dimly lit room. Beatrice listened silently, taking in the soothing tune. 

Ava stopped, somewhat shy with the shift in mood. Maybe she should have played something more lively.

“Don’t stop,” Beatrice’s voice was soft. “I love this song.”

Their eyes met briefly, enough for Ava to look down at the keys again, far too bashful. She continued from where she left off, the song reaching the chorus. Then, Beatrice’s calm voice joined harmonising along with the piano.

I go through all this before you wake up

So I can feel happier to be safe up here with you

I go through all this before you wake up

So I can feel happier to be safe up here with you

And somehow to Ava’s credit she kept going, even though all she wanted to do was listen to Beatrice sing. 

It's early morning, no one is awake

I'm back at my cliff, still throwing things off

I listen to the sounds they make on their way down

I follow with my eyes till they crash

She joined Beatrice, both singing together.

I imagine what my body would sound like

Slamming against those rocks

And when it lands

Will my eyes be closed or open?

They finished the song together, both their voices blending perfectly. Ava’s voice was slightly higher, contrasting impeccably with Beatrice’s deeper richer one. It was still, so still that they could hear the last of the faint vibrations of the piano’s strings.

Ava was the first to speak. “So, Björk.”

“Björk.” Beatrice’s head was bowed, her eyes shifting along the keys. “What beautiful morbidity.”

“You know, I never understood how people could misjudge that song. Always just lingering on the suicidal ideation.”

Beatrice‘s eyes were on her, “But it’s really about casting away your negativity, the fear of whatever comes next.”

“Well, yes there’s that but also not carrying everything on your own. It’s allowing yourself to be intimate with your emotions and inner demons and sharing them with the person you love.”

Beatrice’s eyebrows were downcast. “Wait, but she doesn’t say that at all.”

Ava swatted Beatrice’s arm, bouncing a little on the shared bench, “That’s the point! She’s not sharing her negative emotions out of fear that her relationship will be too fragile to endure it.”

It took a second, but eventually Beatrice nodded along taking in Ava’s words. “Hmm, I hadn’t considered that.” She looked down at her wrist, checking the time on her watch. “Great Scott! Is that the time? Camila is going to murder me.”

Ava had to double check if the person next to her was in fact a seventy year old grandmother. “What’s up?”

“I was meant to meet her at Harrods for some last minute Christmas shopping,” She stood from the stool already beelining for the production room. “I sort of forgot to get presents with everything that’s been happening.”

Ava lowered the piano’s lid, following closely behind.

They draped on their coats for the cold night air and made their way down the steps to the ground floor of the studio. It was early evening by this point. 

“So, what do you have going on for the rest of the night?” Beatrice held the door open for both of them, Ava slightly crouching underneath her arm to go through.

Ava adjusted the scarf around her neck. “Probably get some takeout and watch Derry Girls for like the third time.” She hoped the disappointment in their time being cut short wasn’t too obvious. “A little reward after today.”

Eyes looked at her curiously as if Beatrice could read her mind. “Do you want to tag along? We can get some kebabs on the way.” She added quickly, “And I kind of want to see Camila freak out.”

Ava breathed out, the temptation was strong. “I’m not sure, crowded confined places are not safe for me.”

“Oh. You mean because you’ll be–”

“Yeah, that small detail. I’ll be recognised.”

“How about this?” Beatrice pulled a navy beanie from her coat pocket, presenting it to Ava. “It’s not much, but I think you could get away with at least people not going in for the double take.”

Her eyes went from the beanie to Beatrice.

They grabbed kebabs and a large chips to share between them as they walked to the nearest train entrance. Beatrice had set up the pass system on her phone, then went first showing Ava what to do. They dug into the chips by the tracks and busily chewed, unable to form any kind of conversation. Everyone around them far too tired from the long work day to even lift their heads from their phones. The train arrived just as Beatrice threw the last of their consumables in the bin.

On the train they were able to find a small corner to fit into, barely avoiding the amount of people crammed into the cart. Ava was against the wall too far from any kind of handle to hold on to with Beatrice directly in front of her, shielding her from view. The train jolted forward causing her to lose her balance, but not before Beatrice with her free hand managed to right her back up. She then pressed her hand on the wall to Ava’s side so that she wouldn’t shift further. 

Ava looked up with a thankful smile and Beatrice took a second to carefully adjust the beanie on her head, pulling it down more. “Keep your head down.” She did as instructed and found that Beatrice’s Chucks surrounded her Vans, further holding her to the spot. 

The train ride went on without any fanfare, just the occasional glance up to check for their stop, which after the first few times turned into an excuse to look at Beatrice. Ava wasn’t sure what was commanding her to do it and she had never been the type to gawk, much less at a person. There was something about the way Beatrice held her neck when she was looking away, it was long, strong, and with the tiniest freckle on the left side. There was an aura about it as well, like she had been instructed her whole life to keep her head held high through proper posture. 

“Something on my face?”

“Wha–”

“You were staring.”

“Now arriving at Knightbridge station,” The automated voice echoed across the cart.

“That’s our stop isn’t it?” Beatrice craned her neck double checking. Then, without confirming, gripped Ava’s hand and began to push through the throngs of people. 

The crowds in the street were riddled with work commuters and visitors alike, and if you weren’t going home you were headed to Harrods. The building glowed against the backdrop of the cloudy night sky. The Christmas display was up in full swing as everyone around snapped photos. She had never been inside the building itself, but knew exactly what she was about to run into. The place was swanky, like they grew their own yarn, imported slabs of chocolate, and had in stock Gwyneth Paltrow’s Vibe Altering-Stickers, swanky.

They went through the double doors and Ava followed Beatrice to the lower ground where Camila said she would be. Christmas literally exploded, there were rows and rows of ornaments and decorations with gift wrapping available practically everywhere she looked. The atmosphere calmed her in the sense that she wouldn’t be recognised, but then filled her with fear for her safety for a completely different reason. People. So many people at various stages of stress frantically looking for gifts.

Ava felt her phone vibrating in her coat pocket. Emilia. She answered the call signaling to Beatrice that she’d be a moment. “Hello.”

“I know you told me you were going to be in the studio the whole day, but I figured you might want to hear me out.” Emilia’s voice came through. “Are you not in the studio? I can hear a lot on your end.”

“No, finished up. Getting groceries.” She regretted it the moment it came out of her mouth. She kept her eyes on Beatrice as she wandered off in search of Camila.

“You. Getting groceries?” As if it was the most ridiculous thing she had ever heard. “I do fear hell has frozen over, Ava.”

It annoyed Ava that she was somewhat right in mocking her. “What was it that you wanted to tell me?”

“The Grammy’s called just now, apparently they’re going to honour Max Martin this year with a Lifetime Achievement Award. They were wondering if you wanted to be part of the tribute given that you’ll already be there to present the Album of the Year Award.”

“What’s the tribute?”

“His music through the years, that sort of thing, with different performers. A medley of sorts.”

“When do they need an answer?” She fiddled with a snowflake ornament, needing something to do other than looking around nervously. She wanted to focus on the album that was her priority, anything else was going to take too much of her time. Agreeing to this meant agreeing to rehearsals. 

“Tomorrow at the latest, they want to start workshopping ideas with the talents as soon as possible.”

Beatrice was waving at her with Camila in tow. She waved back while giving Emilia a quick reply in the hopes that she could get off the call, “I’ll call tomorrow with an answer. Goodnight!” The other women joined her as she hung up. 

Camila had a huge smile as she greeted her, barely containing her excitement.“Well, this is unexpected!” 

“Hi, Camila.” Beatrice nudged her friend in a futile attempt to get her off her stupor. “I hear we’re going to do a bit of Christmas shopping.”

“We are! This is my first time inside Harrods, I mean, first time here to shop that is.” Her curly hair bounced behind her as she spoke.

And they were off. They looked through displays pointing out at all the decorations that caught their eyes while making ridiculous cute noises at the stuffed animals or endearing wood pieces. They squeezed through small openings, barely managing to not drop things in their path. At some point Ava spotted a pair of wearable antlers and begged Beatrice to wear them. Actually, there wasn’t a lot of begging because Beatrice tutted only once as a show of reluctance but then put them on without much fuss.

Camila rushed to grab a basket with hands already too full to keep going. As they passed a nature display she spoke up, “What have we got here? A £79 bird on a stick?” The thing looked like it was about the snap off.

Beatrice chuckled good naturally. “It goes perfectly with a £2500 nutcracker.”

“Who are they kidding with these prices?” Camila said all while continuing to add things to her basket.

Ava walked behind them accidentally making eye contact with a massively creepy felt reindeer that was too human for her own liking. “Hey, I’ve been meaning to ask,” She flicked the reindeer’s nose, “What happened that time I asked you guys to open for my London show?”

The speed in which Camila spun around gave her whiplash, “What?”

“Must have been three years ago I think while I was here doing the tour, my assistant contacted your manager at the time,” She explained shifting a few things around, avoiding Camila’s gaze was priority number one, “We were told the schedules conflicted.”

“Beatrice, did you know about this?” Camila’s voice had an accusatory tone, intriguing Ava because Beatrice was quiet, too quiet. The arms crossed stance was not usual for Beatrice as far as Ava was aware, which meant she had accidentally opened the floodgates to something. 

“I…I’m not– I don’t remember the specifics,” She began, choosing her words carefully, Camila was also crossing her arms now, “We were doing festivals around that time and Vincent …he wasn’t managing requests well.”

Camila looked Beatrice up and down, “Go on.” 

Oh yeah, she should not have asked.

“Vincent asked while I was between interviews, I thought he was joking, I obviously couldn’t believe it so I dismissed it.” Her gaze fell on Ava, she saw the guilt on Beatrice’s face. “I’m sorry. I should have been more careful around him.”

Ava came to stand between them, putting a soothing hand on each of them, “It’s okay guys, I know how difficult it can all be in the beginning. No harm done.” She winked at Camila, “Plus, now you owe me.”

Camila somewhat acquiesced with a tiny shrug, “Beatrice will pay in time.” Said person gave her friend a sheepish smile in return. 

In the middle of an ornament comparison session, Beatrice’s phone rang, she informed Camila that it was Suzanne before answering the call. “Suzanne? Hi.” Ava could tell Beatrice was struggling to hear with all the noise around them. “No, yes, she’s here with me, that's why she’s not answering her phone.”

Camila perked up, “Me?”

Beatrice spoke to Camila, “The others are on the line, Suzanne has news for us.” Her bandmate came closer standing on her tiptoes to reach where Beatrice held the phone and Beatrice must have realised because she lowered herself to meet Camila’s ear with the phone. 

Both women listened carefully, nodding silently along to whatever the conversation was about. Then, a couple of emotions went through their faces, shock, realisation and then joy. Camila was jumping, Beatrice was trying to keep herself balanced while being tugged along in every direction, the phone’s trajectory at some point was the floor, then, it started bouncing between Beatrice’s hands before she got a good grip again.

“Oh my God!” Camila rushed to Ava enveloping her in a big hug, completely forgetting that a conversation was being had. “We just got nominated for a Grammy!” 

“Woah!” Ava was jumping now too, just as high as Camila as they both held each other celebrating.

Beatrice looked at them amused, “Everyone is very happy!” She watched as the bouncing turned into a weird dance session along with unnecessary hip movements. “There’s more!”

“WHAT! WHAT!”

“We’re performing, some kind of tribute.” Beatrice turned in an attempt to hear the phone more clearly. “Okay, sounds good, I’ll let Camila know and then we can all get together and talk about this.” It wasn’t long until she rejoined Ava and Camila sporting a really cute smile and those small crescents again. And in that instance Ava decided all at once that she wanted to be the cause of one of those smiles, or definitely a few she was a highly motivated overachiever after all.

Camila rushed her friend in another world shifting hug, which Beatrice was now actually ready for. “BEAAAA! A fucking Grammy!”

Beatrice was practically holding Camila upright at this point. “Best new artist!”

“A GRAMMY!”

“Congratulations guys!”

“Bring it in, Ava,” And now she too was in a Camila headlock, as they all bounced in place. Everyone around them too caught up with whatever they were doing to pay them any mind.

“There's going to be a Max Martin tribute, we’ve been asked to take part in it, but we have to discuss it with the rest of the group.” Beatrice explained the bit Camila had missed during her celebration rampage.

“Oh please!” They began walking through the crowd again, Camila held her basket above her head, protecting the goods. “Where’s the register? I need to leave this place before I sign my life away again.”

As they stood in line for the register, Ava spoke up, “The call I received earlier was about that as well, they’re also asking me to be part of it.”

“No way! Will you? You’ve got to! It’s Max Martin, who can say no to that man.” Apparently, Ava could and was about to. 

Beatrice was observing her, no doubt waiting for her answer as well. “Will you forgive Beatrice if I say ‘yes’?

Camila couldn’t hold back the huge smile from taking over her features. “I will definitely forgive Beatrice. Clean slate!”

And Beatrice, she was smiling too, “Then, yes. I’ll do it! For Beatrice of course.” Ava nudged Beatrice, all too pliant in the way she swayed on the spot. 

They were in the home goods section now where a candle snuffer was the current hot topic. It was Beatrice who had found it, and by this point on her third explanation as to why her mother needed it. Ava was amused with the sibling dynamic, Camila no doubt younger kept insisting that Beatrice was losing her Goddamn mind right now.

“Beatrice, you cannot get your mother a £250 candle snuffer.” Beatrice was opening her mouth to protest, “If you say ‘she can’t just blow on it’ I will skin you with it.”

Ava wanted to add fuel to the fire, or in this case a candle. “What about this?” She held a white candle up for them, “It’s tuberose scented.”

“What in the world is tuberose?” Camila inquired, holding the object in her hand, “Am I poor?”

“ Agave amica, ” Beatrice said nonchalantly, “It’s a flower.”

That was definitely not going to help, but it did momentarily glitch Ava’s neurons in the best of ways.

“I’m poor.”

Beatrice held up a pair of wick trimmers, “Maybe I’ll get this as well? Make it a set.”

Ava wasn’t sure if Camila understood that Beatrice was messing with her now. “Are those fucking scissors £500?”

Ava went in for the jugular, “To be exact they’re £563.”

Camila threw her hands up in surrender and then pointed at Beatrice with all the wrath of a French peasant, “You’re the 1%.” She then turned to Ava, “Not you Ava, you’re the wind beneath my wings,” before she scurried away. 

They were taking the escalator down when it happened. There was a sudden flash coming from above them. Beatrice and Camila froze, not anticipating the unnatural intrusion of lights going off. Ava knew better, she pulled the beanie as far down as possible, exiting as quickly as she could. The women followed closely behind her, necks jumping for the photographers to Ava’s swift moving form. 

Beatrice jogged to her side. “How can I help? What can I do?” Her voice rushed out, panicked. 

Ava ducked behind one of the tables with a Christmas pudding display, Camila and Beatrice following her lead. “I need an emergency exit.”

Both of the women’s heads popped up, searching frantically. “Down the chocolate display cabinets to the left.” Beatrice ducked back down. “We’ll cut straight through it’ll be okay.” She watched as both Camila and Ava nodded in confirmation and then an idea came to her. “Ava, give the beanie to Camila.” Ava did as she was told, understanding immediately what was about to happen. 

Camila put it on without hesitation, “I volunteer as tribute.”

Ava made a noise between a snort and a laugh while looking between Beatrice and Camila affectionately. “Do you hear it, Cam?” She mimicked the iconic sound, making popping noises with her mouth, “ Live fast, die young, bad girls do it well.”

“Oh, I hear it.” She stood fixing the beanie more snuggly around her head, she directed her eyes towards the photographers who were sifting through every possible space searching for Ava. “ Live fast, die young, bad girls do it well.” She saluted them one last time then ran for her life, colourful shopping bags shaking from side to side. 

(*)

Live fast, die young, bad girls do it well

Live fast, die young, bad girls do it well

They watched her go, her small legs going so fast that metaphorically there was dust in her wake. A photographer pointed at her retreating form shouting at the others to follow. Beatrice grabbed her hand. “Don’t let go.” And honestly, she didn’t need to be told twice.

Get back, get down

Pull me closer if you think you can hang

Hands up, hands tied

Don't go screamin' if I blow you with a bang

They ran to the chocolate cabinets, pushing through as many people as they could. A child screamed bloody murder as their tray of chocolates hit the floor. Beatrice’s grip was solid, pulling her along through pure adrenaline alone. She kicked the emergency door open and proceeded to glide down the stairs, a feat that Ava was finding a lot more difficult to manage, but somehow she was still on her feet.

Going nought to bitch, I'll see four million

Accelerating fast, I can do this in a second

Lookin' in the rear view, swaggin' goin' swell

Leavin' boys behind ‘cause it’s illegal just to kill

They were outside before she even realised. Beatrice slowed, taking in her surroundings. “You okay?”

Ava was in fact not okay. She had gone down ten flights of stairs and her cardio was abysmal when in off season. It was a miracle that she even had enough breath to breathe, which should pretty much answer Beatrice. 

How was Beatrice managing to speak right now? How had those stupid antlers not fallen off!

“Fuck,” Her hand was gripped again and she was pulled forward, this time though their hands were clammy and Beatrice was losing her grip. Before they lost their momentum their fingers entwined and if Ava wasn’t so busy running for her life she would have lingered on it. 

Ava focus ! 

The crowd behind was growing with noise and Ava could only assume the photographers had realised Camila was a distraction. 

“Your phone!” Beatrice yelled mid breath. “Get your phone ready!”

By the time she looked up from her phone they had made it to the underground. She scanned her face and slammed the thing to the receiver. They made it down the escalator and a train was there waiting. The announcement came through of the doors closing. Beatrice pulled her inside, and Ava slammed onto her chest as the doors shut behind them.

Shift gear, automatic, damned if I do

Who's gonna stop me when I'm coming through?

What we got left is just me and you

But if I go to bed, baby, can I take you?

Turns out just jumping into a random train wasn’t the best idea because they had to redirect themselves a couple of stations down, but thankfully no photographers to avoid just a teenager who absolutely lost their mind. 

The streets were quiet by the time they made it to Ava’s rental. They had survived mostly unscathed, except for Beatrice’s candle which had unfortunately shattered due to all the commotion. Ava was sure there would be pictures and she was already planning on giving Emilia a phone call tonight. 

“Ava, I am so sorry about putting you in that situation.” Beatrice had been eerily silent up to this point. Hearing her voice alleviated Ava’s concerns somewhat since she was already jumping onto the conclusion that it had all been too much. “I should have listened earlier instead of steamrolling you into it.” The way she was looking at Ava was devastating.

Ava was not upset in the least though, she had a great time with Beatrice and Camila. She couldn’t recall the last time she felt normal, just out and about with friends without the constant nagging feeling in her head. “Are you kidding? That was amazing!”

Beatrice watched her carefully, “Are you sure?”

Ava skipped forward, walking backwards in front of Beatrice. “Sure, I’m sure!”

“I completely understand if you never want a repeat of that.”

“You know, after a point things like that aren’t avoidable, you gotta make do with what you can.”

“Still, I should have been more careful, it wasn’t safe for you.” Beatrice was beating herself up for the night's events, her gaze downcast on the pavement. 

Ava stopped and placed her hand on Beatrice’s shoulder, “Hey, I’m fine. See?” She spun in place. “And I got free cardio out of it!” She gestured with her head towards an apartment flat on their right. “Here’s my stop.”

They walked down the small but well kept garden. The lights were all off except for the streetlamp a couple of homes away. “I’m glad you enjoyed yourself then.” Beatrice was starting to sound a little better though slightly conflicted. 

“Camila definitely enjoyed herself.” They both laughed. “I should probably thank her, it couldn’t have been easy.”

“I’m sure she’ll love it if I give you her number.”

“Please do! She’s my new partner in crime after all.”

Beatrice huffed in a playful outraged manner, her insanely cute stupid antlers still perfectly on her head. “Wow, I’ve been replaced already. I should have known!”

“I could never replace you.” It came out with too much sincerity to be offhanded.

Beatrice’s cheeks had become pinker suddenly, a small smile creeping by her eyes. “I’ll see you after the holidays?”

“Already counting the days.” She doesn’t know what possessed her, but she leaned forward giving Beatrice a kiss on the cheek. “Happy Holidays, Beatrice.”

Beatrice was stock-still, eyes shifting back and forth between Ava’s own. And after a few seconds she breathed in and said, “Happy Holidays, Ava.”

Ava closed the door behind her, but couldn’t bring herself to walk much further. She leaned on it for support with her head against the wood, and then slowly released a long breath. The tips of her ears felt hot and her hands buzzed on the door handle. Her heart was thudding rapidly inside her chest and she felt dizzy and completely still all at once. 

Hmm

—

[Did you just link me homework?]

[I sent you jazz scales, for practice while you’re away.]

[You sent me homework while on holiday. What kind of monster are you!?]

–

[Did you know that Twinkle Twinkle Little Star and ABC’s have the same melody!?]

[Yes, I did know that.]

[My mind is blown!]

–

[I just googled you. How are you younger than me?]

[Why are you googling me? Also, I don’t believe you.]

[I was bored and wanted insider knowledge. Google it!]

[Unbelievable. Do your scales!]

–

{hahahhoo.jpeg}

[Is that Camila tripping into one of the Christmas displays?]

[Yes! The beanie came off and everything, no wonder they figured it out so quickly.]

[I showed her, she said “I will treasure this ‘til my dying day”.]

[There’s a dopey one of you with the antlers, looks like you’re mid sneeze.]

{sneezyface.jpeg}

[How do I unaccept this?]

[Oh, it’s on the internet, there’s no unaccepting it.]

[I need to get in contact with our publicist.]

[It’s my chat background now, it’s too late.]

–

[How are your holidays going so far?]

[Great! I’ve been eating and sleeping like the lazy bum I am.] 

[Haven’t thought of the album at all. Not one bit.]

[You’re editing aren’t you?]

[Wouldn’t you like to know!?]

[That’s why I asked!]

[What about you? What have you been up to?]

[Mostly studio time. Everyone is free so we’ve been consistently putting work into the album.]

[We’re getting together tomorrow night for Christmas Eve dinner.]

[You got presents for everyone?]

[Yes, I managed to pick up Lilith’s this morning. I'm sure she’ll absolutely love a Madonna greatest hits compilation.]

[If I don’t hear from you I’ll assume you’re dead and begin to plot my revenge.]

[Oh? Are you going to protect me from Lilith?]

[Silly, Bea, I’m rich, not stupid.]

[I’ll send an assassin and also you’re already dead.] 

[Maybe I’ll shed a few tears.]

[What can I even say to that?]

[I guess I can die at peace now that I know what to expect.]

[What! No! Don’t say that!] 

[I’ll avenge you! I’ll do it myself. Where does she live?!]

{Aurora - Starvation} 

[Here. Your battle song.]

[Aurora! You just reminded me that I need to listen to her new album.]

[Okay woah!]

[Battle music but with a dance break?]

[Wait, are we having a dance battle?]

[I will protect your honour or whatever!]

[It’s not the Middle Ages!]

–

[Merry Christmas, Ava.]

{10 hour Venga Boys video}

[Merry Christmas!]

[I’m currently on 04:36/10:00 hours in and it is literally the only thing holding me together right now.]

[I can’t imagine hopping on the Venga Bus for that long is psychologically sound.]

[I can only take so many cheek kisses and bendiciones.] 

[What are you up to on the day of our Lord?]

[Just to mum’s for lunch and then not much else.]

[I can’t even sit long enough to respond! I gotta go make arroz con leche.]

[I’ll call you later?]

[I’d like that.]

–

When she’s finally settled for the night, with a book on her lap and a cup of tea by her side, Ava calls. Beatrice fights the urge to answer right away, barely keeping her fingers from swiping after the second ring. “Hello?” Her voice is quiet in her empty flat.

“Hi.” Ava’s is husky and low as if she’s trying to keep her voice down. “Sorry, give me a second. I'm trying to sneak away.”

Something inside Beatrice starts to panic, “Ava you didn’t have to go through the trouble. I know you’re with your family. Honestly, I’m happy to just ring you tomorrow or something.”

“You’re gonna ring me tomorrow?” Ava fondly mocks Beatrice’s accent, but continues, “You sound so posh right now. The phone is intensifying your accent. Or has it always been this… attractive?”

Beatrice is not sure how to respond to that. “I guess it must be the phone because I’m sure I’ve been English this whole time.”

“This whole time? Maybe it’s because I’m only focusing on your voice, it makes it more noticeable.”

“Your voice sounds different too.”

She could hear Ava settling somewhere, “Yeah?”

“Yes, it’s much lower.”

“Oh? Like, sexy low?”

“Like, when you sing sometimes in a lower register, your voice sounds fuller, more mature.” She was an idiot to the highest degree. 

–

{Doechii - Denial is A River}

[I get it, Doechii. I get it.]

[Ava, it’s 3 AM!]

Before Ava even has a chance to reply, Beatrice is calling. “I promise I’m up for a totally respectable reason.”

“And what’s that?” Beatrice’s voice was groggy with sleep.

“I think I’ve reached a point of delirium. I caught myself rhyming the ABC’s with 123.” 

Beatrice chucked. “As simple as do, re, mi.”

“You know what the worst part is?”

“Hmm?”

Ava pushed her laptop away, making space on top of her bed to lie down. “I want to keep it.”

“Maybe you can revisit this in the morning.”

“But— ”

“Are your creative juices flowing again?”

“I told you to ignore that!”

“I’m staying on the phone until you go to sleep.”

“Well, I’m staying on the phone until YOU go to sleep so that I can continue with the creative process.”

“Is that a challenge?”

When Ava woke up a few hours later she found her phone by the side of her face still on a call.

“Ava?”

“Who won?”

“I’m not sure, I think I fell asleep.”

–

Beatrice had been pulled into every direction at this point and her coordination was failing her. The not so spiked punch was starting to seem very messed with. The bathroom mirror reflected back a face covered in four different shades of lipstick, all courtesy of her bandmates. 

The music vibrated off the door as the party continued outside. 

As she rubbed at the marks on her face a video call came through her phone, which was dangerously dangling on the rim of the sink.

She answered, “Hi Ava.”

Ava’s face took a second to stabilise, “Happy New Year!” Ava mumbled. She was wearing a goofy hat and appeared to be scarfing down grapes.

“Happy New Year!”

“Are you in the bathroom?”

“Yes, just trying to remove lipstick off my face. Though it is proving futile.”

Ava’s face came closer to the phone, “Who are the kisses from?”

“Four drunkards wouldn’t leave me be.”

“Quick, I want you to make a wish.” Ava held a green grape up to the phone’s camera. “I’m on my last grape and I can’t think of anything else so I’m granting you my last wish.”

“Do I have to say it out loud?”

“No.”

—

“Absolutely not! This is not what we all agreed to do.” Beatrice was not having it. The plans had completely changed. 

Suzanne sighed, shifting her weight on the chair in front of them. They were in the hotel lobby waiting for a van to take them to rehearsal. Her bandmates sat around in various stages of jet lag. “Did you or did you not agree to perform in the tribute?” 

“Yes, WE–” She was cut off by Suzanne’s raised hand, Levy snickered nearby.

“Are you not part of the band, Beatrice?” The raised eyebrow was enough to send shivers down her spine.

She huffed, looking anywhere but at her manager’s face. This was upsetting her. She agreed with the band performing together, not to frolicking on stage to lame 90’s pop songs for the whole world to watch. “Why me? Camila and Lilith are great singers, and I’m sure they can pick up choreography just as quickly.”

“Camila and Lilith are not the image of the group.” Levy interjected, slightly annoyed that he even had to remind her in the first place. “You’re well aware that band leaders take on more public facing roles.”

She was desperately looking between her bandmates, “Guys?”

“I would love to, Bea, really, but I couldn’t possibly put that much choreography into memory.” Camila was avoiding her eyes, picking at something on her finger. “I wouldn’t want to embarrass us like that.”

“I’m not much of a court jester,” Lilith, on the other hand, made direct eye contact.

Yasmine and Mary were just quietly observing the exchanges, though she could tell they were sympathetic to her cause. “So, that’s it then?”

“Yes, we have agreed and this is what they want of us and you.” 

And that was that. The ride to rehearsal was deadly silent. Beatrice knew when to swallow it down, she knew whatever her feelings were towards this didn’t matter. The frustrating part was that she actually had to put her best foot forward and represent her band well. Suzanne and Levy left them at rehearsal and the topic was not brought up again.

Two days later Ava walked through the dance studio’s door wearing a nude skort, a tucked in white t-shirt with stripes along her chest and hair slightly longer than she remembered. And for some reason making a fool of herself on live television didn’t seem so bad after all.

Ava greeted some of the dancers and shook the choreographer's hand, she then took in the studio and spotted her. The smile that spread across Ava’s face was toothy and too contagious not to return. Beatrice stood from where she was sitting, and all at once became hyper aware of just how much sweat was probably on her person. Ava set on a straight path towards her and she was having an internal panic attack. 

She was crushed into a hug, “Fancy seeing you here.” Ava wiggled them in place for a few seconds before pulling away. “I thought you guys were just doing the three songs.”

It seems the Grammy’s did not have their shit together if this was news to Ava as well. “There was a last minute change, I think someone pulled out.”

“It was probably Chanel, she has commitment issues,” Ava was not at all phased by this apparently. Maybe Beatrice held these award shows in too high regard.

“Alright guys, now that Ava is here we can start to focus on the opening song.” The choreographer spoke, holding the remote control to the studio’s sound system. 

Beatrice was happy for the downtime now that Ava had arrived and the rest of the tribute could start taking shape. She wasn’t in the opening song, but stayed behind to watch as everyone took their places with Ava at the center. 

It was strange seeing Ava in person again after their time apart, whatever had transpired between them during the holidays just didn’t translate to the woman commanding such presence in front of her. The Ava she had grown to know was not who this Ava was.

Ava was so natural in this environment, even considering that she was learning all of this from scratch. At some point she was handed a serving tray prop covered in drinks and she spun around with it doing the choreography as if there was nothing to it.

The third day was Beatrice’s long day, both her and Ava arrived at the studio at the same time. Some of the dancers were already practicing the song with Ava watching them carefully. Beatrice joined along, already familiar with some of the moves. They started off moving like dolls bursting out of their storage boxes and then moved to more of the iconic moves of the song. Beatrice obviously feels the nostalgia coming in waves, remembering just how much she had watched this exact music video growing up.

The studio’s door opened, their choreographer came in followed by JC. Beatrice had met, or somewhat ran into him a couple of times by now at different festivals and events. He had been nice, a small chat here and there with not much commitment for more. He was basically the German Justin Bieber and barely on her music radar. He, like Ava, introduced himself around the room and then walked to the two of them. 

“Ava!” He greeted her, the hug far too long for Beatrice’s taste. 

“Hey, JC.” Ava pulled away, giving him a playful punch to the chest. “I guess our Justin is here, huh? Where’s the noodle hair?” She laughed, somewhat teasing. It seemed they both knew each other.

“Can you imagine!” He joined along with Ava’s laughter. 

“JC, this is our JC, Beatrice.” Ava introduced them and Beatrice didn’t think to correct her.

“Oh, we’ve met! I think maybe a year ago in Glasgow.” Ava’s eyes shifted between them.

Beatrice nodded, “That’s right, a festival I think.” Honestly, she was surprised that he even remembered their conversation.

The music went off across the studio, no doubt the choreographer trying to get their attention. 

The rest of rehearsal consisted of Beatrice and JC going back and forth between their parts with Ava just dancing along with the background dancers. Turns out that learning this before today meant nothing because JC was dancing circles around her within a few minutes, that’s not to say that Beatrice wasn’t holding her own because she was, but she was not used to singing and dancing. She had done ballet for years, she knew she had the stamina, but this was another monster and an angry sorta bubble was forming. 

At some point JC took off his shirt which was equal parts alarming and annoying, everyone was distracted and everyone’s distraction was throwing her. Ava had completely caught up at this point as well, further adding to her incompetence. 

It was her part again now, she shifted to the center and got slapped in the ass, “Let’s go, Bea!” Ava was to her right, hair stuck on her face from all the sweating that was happening. Her voice came through the held microphone, the booty tap far too encouraging. And the rest just flowed out of her somehow, even the ad libs and sustained notes. 

The fourth day is another band day, they’re at the venue now, all set up on the moving platform. The stages around them are starting to take shape and various people are moving around the arena setting up. The music director is busy talking with the stage director and stage hands as everything around them continues to shift.

“Ladies, start with some warm ups, I’ll be done in a few minutes,” The musical directors paused the conversation long enough to address them. 

They’re just going through their songs today and deciding on the presentation. Ava will be taking part in one of the songs. She’s with them now just as background vocals along with Lilith and Camila. 

“So, what will it be?” Beatrice ventures, turning to her bandmates and Ava, who has found a spot by Camila directly behind Beatrice on her right. They usually start warm ups with some of their favourite oldies. 

“Ava should pick since it’s her first time.” Camila said, messing with her keyboard’s synths.

“Pick what?” 

“A song to warm up to. It’s gotta be an oldie but goodie,” Yasmine spoke up, already creating a beat with her kickdrum.

“Alright.” Ava thought for a moment her eyes moving across the small stage to all the members. Then, she leaned and whispered into Camila’s ear. 

“Oooh that’s a really good one,” Camila said while grabbing the tambourine beside her and handing it to Ava. “Start us off.”

“And what? You’ll just know?”

“We’ll know.”

Ava bounced the instrument a couple of times finding the rhythm and then Camila joined, the melody already obvious enough for the rest of the instruments to join along. Beatrice faced her bandmates before her voice combined along as well.

(*)

I need love, love to ease my mind

I need to find, find someone to call mine

But mama said you can't hurry love

No you just have to wait

She said love don't come easy

It's a game of give and take

Camila pushed her microphone to Ava, gesturing with scrunched up nose and lips. Beatrice kept the song going, also pointing at the microphone for Ava to join. And when she eventually did, the whole song transformed the stage as the band jammed along together. It was their tradition for a reason, it brought them back to what they loved about music. Music to them was timeless and a joy they all shared together. In a space like this it held them together and she was happy to share in the moment with Ava as well.

No love, love don't come easy

But I keep on waiting, anticipating for that

Soft voice to talk to me at night

For some tender arms to hold me tight

An energy took over the arena as they played, background dancers sitting along the stage stood and danced, unable to avoid the song's infectious harmony. Ava smiled in her direction and Beatrice’s heart no longer beat to the rhythm of the song, but to something else entirely. 

When mama said

You can't hurry love

No, you just have to wait

She said trust, give it time

No matter how long it takes

You can't hurry love

No, you just have to wait

She said love don't come easy

It's a game of give and take

It was late. Beatrice doesn’t know what time exactly. They had been going over the routines, blocking, and outfit changes for hours at this point. JC was on the main stage doing his solo, which was also the ending number and she had lost track of Ava. Beatrice was sitting by a far wall with a really lovely and attractive background dancer who had taken the opportunity to strike up a conversation.

She was nodding along with the other woman, keeping the conversation amicable and flowing, but she was tired. She was sure there had been some flirty lines, but they had barely even cycled through her weary mind. 

Ava suddenly sat beside her, something she only noticed because there was small huff while she did it. She took a swig of her water bottle and then passed her hand across her lips wiping them, she had the tiniest frown on her face as she looked between Beatrice and the dancer. 

Before Beatrice even thought of opening her mouth to greet her, Ava swatted her right leg, and by pure instinct her body worked out what Ava wanted. She placed her leg down and Ava lowered herself onto her thigh, wiggling a couple of times to find the best angle for her head.  

Ava didn’t say anything at all, she just popped in her earphones and closed her eyes. 

After a few minutes, the dancer was called away for another round of rehearsals and Beatrice just sat and watched Ava as her chest moved up and down, her breathing was even but she wasn’t asleep. Her arms rested comfortably on her tummy and that’s when Beatrice spotted it, the hair tie she had given her all those months back, and she knew it was hers because she was currently wearing the other pair. On Ava’s wrist was her missing jade flower hair tie. 

Several thoughts went through her head. One, the practical, sensible part of her concluded that it was just a hair tie and its use was currently to keep Ava’s hair off her face while they practiced. Two, the side of her that knew better and that always strategised immediately caught onto the fact that she had not seen Ava use the hair tie at all. And third, the hopeful side of her was willing it to mean more than just being a simple object with a singular purpose. 

Her hand reached for it, she couldn’t help herself. She twirled the small flower in her fingers, her thoughts probably accelerating past several countries' speed limits. It took a moment, but Ava’s breathing changed and then her other hand passed along Beatrice’s wrist reaching for something and when she found it, Ava gave her amber flower tie a twist of her own. 

The silence stretched for a few seconds and Beatrice could feel with the tips of her fingers Ava’s pulse quicken. 

What the fuck?

–

Tuna. The meal prepared for them was tuna sandwiches. It was dress rehearsals and they were once again having tuna sandwiches. This was the Grammys! Beatrice looked from the offensive meal back to her bandmates, they were all happily eating it, but of course they didn’t have to suffer five days of it. 

“Tuna, tuna, tuna," Ava materialised by her side, also giving the tuna sandwiches a grimace. She continued the tune, “Tuna, tuna, tuna.”

“No, no, no, no, no,” She joined, adding a separate tune on top, “No, no, no more tuna, no, no, no more tuna.”

“I don’t want tuna no more.” 

“No, no, no more tuna.”

“I don’t want tuna no more"

“No, no, no more tuna.”

“No more!”

The fit of laughter and giggles that overtook them was enough to get everyone’s attention from the backstage area. Ava’s hand came to her mouth shutting in the cackle that escaped when Beatrice realised just how loud they had been. Camila raised one eyebrow in their direction, eventually waving them towards the other band members.

Everything so far has been going according to plan. Ava had somehow perfected her thirty second outfit change from a neon green halter top and waist hugging pants to a beautifully brooding black lace dress with a high cinched waist and flowing floor length bell sleeves. They were all hitting their cues, the band was flawlessly executing every song, and Beatrice had not eaten the moving stage yet, which was going to prove to be painfully difficult during one of their numbers.

–

The morning of the Grammys Beatrice is stressed, but not because in just a few hours she’ll be performing live to millions of people, no, but because she is currently in an endless queue to get Hadestown tickets for Ava. She had set her phone’s alarm to wake her exactly twenty minutes before tickets went on sale and that was at 4 AM in the morning. It is now 7 AM. 

Camila had made several angry noises from the bed next to her throughout the early morning, which was understandable given that she all but blasted her with an alarm and scrambled out of bed several times to grab her card details, eat a protein bar and grab her glasses, all in that order and all on separate occasions.

How in the world could there possibly still be 16,000 people in the queue? She wasn’t even sure that many people combined liked musical theater. And she wasn’t a quitter, never has been, but the lack of restful sleep was going to bite her in the ass later, she was sure. 

Beatrice sighed loudly, pulling the bed sheets off and thudding all the way to their room door.

“What now!” Camila all but growled as she left the room.

It took too many knocks for Yasmine to finally open the door to her room. She rubbed her eyes, barely registering the person in front of her. “I thought we were getting up at eight.”

“Did you get Hadestown tickets?” Beatrice held the phone close to Yasmine’s face who blinked a couple of times adjusting to the brightness. “They were meant to go on sale hours ago and I’ve been sitting in the queue and nothing has changed.” Beatrice wasn’t frantic often, but when she was she knew everyone avoided her at all costs. Yasmine unfortunately had nowhere to run. 

“Who is it?” Mary’s voice came from within the room.

“It’s Beatrice, she's asking about musical theater tickets.”

“Beatrice doesn’t like musicals.”

“YES! Yes, I do. Absolutely love them.” She knew she was giving crazy. “With their whimsical dancing and emotional power vocal ME songs!” She pushed the phone to Yasmine’s face again, “Now, Yasmine please tell me how I can get my hands on a bloody ticket.”

“I left a bot running on my phone overnight, I haven't checked yet.” Yasmine procured the device from her pajama pants. “Yes, it seems it was able to pick up a few tickets. I usually like to go to several performan–”

“How much do you want for two of them?”

Yasmine smiled. 

Beatrice was scared.

Chapter Text

“Stop messing with your damn bow tie.” Mary was losing her patience. 

They were backstage, minutes away from their Max Martin tribute. The dancers were stretching in place, keeping their muscles warm as the clock continued to tick. All the moving parts of their act were currently being shifted into place by eager stagehands who were literally holding this entire award show together. The host scrambled onto the main stage ready to deliver the preliminary appreciation speech before the performance.

 Beatrice was sure her bow tie was askew, but the more she fiddled the more Mary swatted at her hands. “I don’t think the stylist got it right.”

Lilith rolled her eyes but walked closer to check. “Let me see?” She fiddled for like two seconds. “I see what the problem is,” She pointed at the knot getting Beatrice’s attention, then proceeded to run her finger up her neck, lips, and ending with a flick to Beatrice’s nose. “Idiot.”

Beatrice clicked her tongue, not at all amused by Lilith’s antics. “Camila, what does your knot look like?” There was no reply. “Camila?”

“She’s with–” Yasmine began, but right at that moment Camila and Ava walked up to them arm in arm giggling.

“I wouldn't wish those bell bottoms on my worst enemy!” Camila said, her attention fully on Ava who was already wearing the iconic Britney headset mic. Her hair was loose with slight curls and her in ear monitors fell on her shoulders, awaiting the start of the medley.

“Poor JC, at least his outfit change is more palatable.” They both stopped in front of Beatrice. Ava reached over to her bow tie, adjusting it, “It’s a little skewed.”

Beatrice turned a glare towards her other three bandmates, who just shrugged, except Lilith who stuck out her tongue. 

A stagehand wearing headphones walked to them, he had a clipboard in hands and was aggressively checking things off. “Five minutes!” Some of the dancers stood up from their stretches bouncing in place in order to get the blood running. The man directed his attention to Beatrice, “I’ve set up the Gibson by your microphone stand.” He then walked off speaking into his headset.

Somehow that was all it took for all the nervous energy to start pouring out of her. “Mary, my jacket?” Beatrice took a few steps, looking around for it.

“I’ve got it. I’ll hand it to you like we planned.” Mary patted her shoulder in a way that Beatrice assumed was meant to be comforting, but it was Mary so it just looked like she was done with the conversation and wanted to move on with her life. 

“Two minutes!”

Camila de-tangled herself away from Ava and pointed at Beatrice, “Remember the stage moves.”

The stage moves. 

The stage moves. 

The stage moves. 

Ava watched her closely, eyes searching for a way to help, Beatrice knew that her nervous energy was palpable. “Just have fun, Bea.” She gripped her hand giving it a quick squeeze, “You’ll be great.” 

Two sound techs came to them each carrying their in ears and transmitters. One of them walked to Beatrice making a quick job of getting her set up, they draped her in ears along her shoulders and from the back fastened the rest of the system onto her pants underneath her button up. Ava placed her in ears in and she followed suit, careful not to get it tangled in the cascading curls that was currently her hair.

“Ava…out…in…3…2…1.” The stage hand counted down with both verbal and visual cues.

The edgy synthesizers indicated the beginning of the song along with the vocal holler of “ Craaaaaaazy ”. Then, the beat began, with Ava adding the recognisable Britney inflection of “uuuh” followed by cowbells. Beatrice felt the immediate shift in the atmosphere of the arena as the audience recognised the song straight away. 

(*)

Baby, I'm so into you

You got that something, what can I do?

Baby, you spin me around, oh

The earth is moving, but I can't feel the ground

From stage left JC was getting his in ears set up, ready to jump in once Ava’s intro finished. She watched from stage right as Ava walked down from her sight, the dancers following behind carrying the props made to look like drink trays. 

Every time you look at me

My heart is jumping, it's easy to see

“Chorus…2…3…4.” The in ears continued their cues. 

You drive me crazy, I just can't sleep

I'm so excited, I'm in too deep

Oh, crazy, but it feels alright

Baby, thinking of you keeps me up all night

The choreography continued through the second verse with some of the dancers walking back to grab the chairs by each side of the stage ready to set them up for the STOP section. JC bopped his head along with the beat, his eyes following Ava’s figure. 

“Sing it!” Ava yelled, raising her arms above her for emphasis. 

The dancers began the sitting part of the choreography as the tempo of the song slowed and then the quintessential record scratch indicated the bridge along with Ava’s “ Stop! ”

You drive me crazy, baby 

Excited, I'm in too deep

Oh, but it feels alright

Baby, thinking of you keeps me up all night

After Ava’s belted “ Craaaaaaaaaazyyyyyyy ” finishes, the wrap up section begins with the dancers having a mini dance off. 

Baby, thinking of you keeps me up all night

“Beatrice and JC out…3…2…1.”

Beatrice gripped her microphone and emerged onto the stage with JC mirroring her entrance, unlike Ava and JC she didn’t have to wear the headset. The songs shifted smoothly from each other indicating the start of their group presentation. They met Ava at the center and fell in line with the rest of the dancers behind them. The piano’s staccato began and they jumped into the choreography perfectly coinciding the beat-box vocal beat.

“JC…4…3…2…1.”

(*)

Ooh, yeah

You might've been hurt, babe

That ain't no lie

You've seen them all come and go

They moved across the stage with JC at the center, each meticulous move falling into place. She and Ava stretched their arms out and spun in place as JC sang his verse.

I remember you told me

That it made you believe in “no man, no cry”

Maybe that's why

Her and JC switched places. 

“Beatrice…3…2…1.” 

She swiped her hand in front of her and sang.

You've got no choice, babe

But to move on

And you know, there ain't no time to waste

You're just too blind

to see

But in the end, you know it's gonna be me

You can't deny

So just tell me whyyyyyyyyyyyy

“Chorus…3…2…1.”

They broke into separate sections of the stage with Beatrice taking the left, Ava the center and JC the right along with a few dancers behind them.

All that I do is not enough for you

I don't wanna lose it, but I'm not like that

When finally, 

finally

you get to love

Guess what?

They all came back together at the center of the stage to finish up.

Every little thing I do

Beatrice sustained the note as long as she possibly could while Ava and JC continued the chorus.

never seems enough for you

You don't wanna lose it again

 don’t wanna lose it

but I'm not like them

Baby, when you finally 

get to love somebody

Love somebody

Guess what?

 It's gonna be me!

The crowd erupted into cheers, but Beatrice didn’t have a chance to linger as everything around her began to shift. She only had a few seconds to jump onto the moving platform carrying her bandmates. Lilith’s guitar was already hitting the G major chords, a livelier shift from the minor scale the previous songs used. Everyone else exited the stage while she sprinted to the oncoming stage behind her. The stage moves. The stage moves. The stage moves! She repeated the mantra easily finding the taped up steps, happy to be wearing Oxfords. 

She placed the microphone on the mic stand at the center of the stage and swung on the suit jacket Mary handed her in one smooth motion. Yasmine’s drums came alive. She breathed in and faced the audience.

(*)

Here's the thing, we started out friends

It was cool, but it was all pretend

Yeah, yeah

Since you been gone

She spotted the live cameras and kept an emotionless expression.

You're dedicated, you took the time

Wasn't long 'til I called you mine

Yeah, yeah

Since you been gone

The stage came to a stop. The audience had been on their feet since the beginning, but were now singing along with her.

And all you'd ever hear me say

Is how I picture me with you

That's all you'd ever hear me say

“Chorus…3…2…1.”

She winked at the camera before grabbing the microphone with one hand and gripping the stand with the other, already jumping into place as the chorus broke out. Her bandmates also bounced along wrapped up in the moment. 

But since you been gone

I can breathe for the first time

I'm so movin' on, yeah, yeah

Thanks to you

Now I get what I want

Since you been gone

“Bridge…3…2…1.”

You had your chance, you blew it

Out of sight, out of mind

Shut your mouth, I just can't take it

Again and again and again and agaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaain

Grab the guitar. Grab the guitar. Grab THE guitar! She gripped the red Gibson on her left and sung it around her shoulders joining along with Lilith’s chord progressions.

Since you been gone

 Since you been gone!

I can breathe for the first time

I'm so movin' on, yeah, yeah

Thanks to you 

Thanks to you!

Now I get

I get what I waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaant!

I can breathe for the first time

first time!

I'm so movin' on

OoOooooon!

yeah, yeah!

Thanks to you

 Thanks to you

Now I get 

I get

You should know

 You should know

That I get, I get what I waaaaaant

Beatrice stepped off the platform with the guitar as Camila and Lilith finished the vocals behind her.

Since you been gone

Since you been gone

Since you been gone

The stage pulled back from behind Beatrice as she began to play the funk based guitar riff. 

“Sending out Ava in 3…2…1…go.”

Ava emerged from stage left already changed into her more formal black Valentino dress and rocking perfect red lips. They both met in the middle as the pulsing synthesizers and bassline provided by The Cruciforms began to reverb across the arena. They got closer to one another with Ava blowing her a kiss before hitting their mark, backs facing each other.

(*)

Midnight

You come and pick me up, no headlights

A long drive

Could end in burning flames or paradise

Fade into view, oh

It's been a while since I have even heard from you

And I should just tell you to leave, 'cause I

Know exactly where it leads, but I

Watch us go 'round and 'round each time

They broke apart and strutted in separate directions each performing for their side of the audience.

'Cause you got that James Dean daydream look in your eye

And I got that red lip classic thing that you like

And when we go crashing down, we come back every time

Ava started to walk back to the center, she raised the hand not holding the microphone beckoning Beatrice towards her. 

'Cause we never go out of style, we never go out of style

You got that long hair, slicked back, white T-shirt

And I got that good girl faith and a tight little skirt

And when we go crashing down, we come back every time

'Cause we never go out of style, we never go out of style

Ava and Beatrice were in the center of the stage now. Ava raised the microphone to her mouth with Beatrice’s back behind her.

Take me hoooooooooooooome

Just take me hooooooooooooome

Yeah, just take me hooooooooome

Oh-oh, woah-oh, ooooooh

Beatrice swung her guitar to rest behind her and extended her hand with a bow for Ava to take. She twirled Ava in place before their fingers intertwined and they paced forward while looking at each other.

(*)

Oh, you got that James Dean daydream look in your eye

And I got that red lip classic thing that you like

They released their hands and Beatrice twirled walking backwards as Ava continued to walk forward while cutely pointing at each other from head to toes.

And when we go crashing down, we come back every time

They both did a synchronised jig right foot first then left as their hips moved along with the beat.

'Cause we never go out of style, we never go out of style

“JC enter…3…2…1.”

They walked back up stage to exit as JC walked between them, the song’s tempo dropped quickly changing into the end number. The Cruciforms continued to play along with JC singing and the dancers taking the stage once more.

(*)

And I know she'll be the death of me

At least we'll both be numb

And she'll always get the best of me

The worst is yet to come

But at least we'll both be beautiful

And stay forever young

This I know, uh

This I know

Once backstage Beatrice and Ava embraced, far too energetic from their performances. They rocked in place for a few seconds until one of the sound techs came towards them hand outstretched for Beatrice’s guitar. She handed the instrument over not realising that the lapels of her suit jacket twisted out of place. Ava reached up and gently smoothed the material back down and Beatrice wasn’t sure how it happened, but all the noise backstage faded as Ava leaned up and placed a soft kiss at the corner of her mouth. 

“Happy birthday.”

I can't feel my face when I'm with you

But I love it

But I love it, oh

I can't feel my face when I'm with you

But I love it

But I love it

Ava’s hand came up to the spot where the kiss had landed, she rubbed her thumb over between Beatrice’s cheek and lips. She wasn’t sure how long they watched each other as Ava continued to remove what Beatrice assumed was very red lipstick from her face, but it was long enough for the sound to come rushing back into her ears. Her bandmates' loud animated voices drew nearer. Ava must have realised because she pulled back quickly before facing them.

—

The night had moved along with various awards given to awaiting artists. Ava had sat at her table in the arena for a little while striking up conversation with the people around her. JC had continuously leaned into her ear throughout the night, something that would have irritated her a year ago, but she found herself too distracted by Beatrice’s side profile to even give it much thought.  

She was now backstage prepping for the upcoming award for Album of the Year. She had found herself a corner with just the right view to see out onto the stage and a bit of the celebrity tables. She could make out what was Camila’s curly hair as her head anxiously bobbed up and down. The current presenter introduced all the potential winners before fiddling with the envelope in her hands.

“As selected by the thirteen thousand voting members of The Recording Academy, the Grammy Award for Best New Artist goes to…” The presenter paused for dramatic effect, then tore the envelope open, “THE CRUCIFORMS!”

Ava’s heart nearly fell out of her ass, Stuck resonated across the arena solidifying their win. She couldn’t see the rest of the table from where she was, but Camila was on her feet immediately as the audiences’ claps echoed loudly. She must have hugged Beatrice to her right and then pulled back running her hand across her teary eyes. They were making their way onto the stage now, with Beatrice leading the way, she was smiling. Ava’s heart was thundering in her ears. 

The presenter hugged Beatrice before handing the award over, then proceeded to give a hug to the rest of the members. Beatrice looked between her members, then, with their encouragement, walked towards the microphone.

“Thank you so much for this honour. Thank you to everyone who has listened to our music and taken such a liking to us.” Beatrice paused to take a breath, her voice was shaky. “Honestly, I think we’re all a bit flabbergasted by this.” She turned to her band who eagerly nodded along. “We would like to thank our team, our management and our label, who surround us with so much support and appreciation. We would also like to thank all the other nominees in the category because best…best is subjective and you’re all incredible.”

Watching Beatrice accept their award filled Ava with such a sudden rush of affection that she had to hold herself in place even though all she wanted to do was run on stage and give Beatrice a hug. Whatever this was that has been brewing between them was becoming more and more difficult to ignore.

The speech finished and the audience clapped as the members made their way backstage. Ava’s heart was hammering in her chest. Beatrice and the band were making their way towards her, each of them teary and with huge smiles. Camila was holding the award now giving it a copious amount of kisses while Lilith attempted to wrestle it off her hands.

“Hey! Congratulations guys.” The smile on her face grew bigger as they all gathered around her. 

Camila rushed forward crushing her in a big hug, “AVA! We won!”

They needed to get back to their seats quickly for the next set of awards. 

The girls continued chatting and passing the award around while the stagehands began to herd them in the right direction. Beatrice lingered, for a moment debating what she should do, but it didn’t take long before arms wrapped around her waist. 

Ava breathed in, her nose in the crook of Beatrice’s neck. She ran her hands up and down Beatrice’s back comfortingly. “You should go be with them.” Beatrice nodded, making no attempt to move at all. “Go.”

Beatrice was hesitant but did as she was told. “I’ll see you later.”

—

The Grammys after party was in full swing at the rooftop bar. The music was loud, the drinks were flowing and the dance floor was full of moving bodies. And Ava knew a drunk when she saw one. Camila needed to be tranquilised. She had somehow managed to get her hands on a microphone.

(*)

I'm going meshuga

All day long there's a man in

My brain incessantly playing "Booga wooga"

But I'm going meshuga

The infectious Madonna song was currently bringing the house down as Camila danced across the stage in an exaggerated and comical manner. Mary and Lilith were trying very hard to dissociate from the situation while Yasmine raised her cup in encouragement.

There's bats in my belfry

Won't you make sure this

Straight jacket's tight

Otherwise I might get myself free

Yes, there's bats in my belfry

Beatrice was by the stairs near the stage coaxing Camila down, but it was proving fruitless. Everyone around seemed to be enjoying the completely random experience, some even joining along with some ad libs of their own. 

Who knows?

Could be the wine I drink

Or it's the way I think that makes me gonzo

Oh, Doctor Alonzo says

I'm going bananas

Someone get me a bed in the "Casa De Loco" for all my mañanas

For I'm going bananas

Beatrice was on stage now, physically pulling Camila to the stairs as she sang the final words of the song. Camila drank from her cup before discarding it behind her.

Yes, I'm going bananas

“And you would too, if you were me!”

Si, I'm going bananas

“Ava.” It was JC. She turned to face him, he leaned in to whisper in her ear, “Are you keen?”

“I’m good, thanks.” She did not want to get into this with him.

He stayed undeterred, “Come on, I’ve missed us.”

And it was so like him to not listen to her. It had always been like this between them, he listened but not quite. Sure, they dated a year ago, and it had been fun, but that was all it was. Their relationship outside of the physical had been toxic at best. It had been a place in her life that she did not want to return to. 

“Like I said, I’m good.” She kept her features neutral, any kind of reaction would only encourage him.

JC wasn’t giving in, he gripped her arm pulling her to him. “Listen, I’m sorry about–”

“Is everything okay?” Beatrice came to her side, her hand on JC’s. JC released Ava’s hand as she took a step behind Beatrice. 

JC’s eyes bounced between them, “Yeah, everything is fine.” He said. “Ava and I were just talking.”

Beatrice turned to her, concerned, “Ava?” 

“Actually, I’m hungry.” Ava grabbed Beatrice’s hand leading her away from the dance floor and JC. 

Beatrice walked beside her as they headed for the stairwell. She was quiet, which Ava had learned was normal for Beatrice. Ava knew that whatever Beatrice was thinking wouldn’t be voiced and even if it was, it wouldn’t be in a direct way. So, she knew that she would have to address it.

The door to the stairwell closed behind them leaving them in a muffled kind of quiet. There was definitely a question on Beatrice’s mind since her eyebrows were scrunched up and her shoulders stood a lot stiffer than usual, which Ava thought of as an adorable look, but knew better than to lead with that. 

They took the steps one at a time. “We dated,” Ava began the conversation, “Last year.” Beatrice kept her head down watching the steps below carefully. “I think he forgets we broke up, or pretends to.”

“I see. Should I not have interrupted?” Beatrice’s question was presented as a simple yes or no, but Ava knew there was more to it than that.

“No, I’m happy that you did.”

“Good...that’s good.” They had reached the bottom of the steps. “You said you were hungry?”

“Starving, actually.”

Beatrice’s suit was the perfect outfit for some late night gallivanting, though she had lost her bow tie at some point throughout the night. Ava on the other hand had not been so lucky, she had changed into a more manageable red tulle dress after the award ceremony, but still had to deal with her heels.

They looked up at the simple menu above the register, the teen girl awaiting their order going through various stages of awe. Beatrice was too busy contemplating her choices to notice.

Ava took a step forward, and the girl visibly glitched in place. “Hi, can I please have a cheese burger combo with a chocolate shake.” She nodded vigorously while tapping the order on the screen in front of her. “Bea?”

“I can’t decide if I want a root beer or a Dr. Pepper. Both are very American.”

“Dr. Pepper tastes like medicine,” The girl spoke up shyly.

“Oh, well, that settles it then.” Beatrice came to Ava’s side, “I’ll also have the cheeseburger combo and a root beer please.”

“Okay,” The girl tapped a few more times, “I’m not sure how to…go about this. Do I like charge you guys money?”

“What?” Beatrice asked confusedly, not quite following.

Ava grabbed her phone, tapping a couple of times on the screen facing them until the money was charged through.“Yes, yes! You definitely charge us money.”

When they stepped away to find a table the girl shouted from the register, “Congrats on the award by the way!”

Beatrice waved shyly, finally catching up with what had just happened, “Thank you!”

They slid into an empty booth, Ava first then Beatrice. It was late enough that the restaurant only had a few people enjoying a late night meal. 

“What happened to your bow tie? It was cute.”

“Camila almost choked me with it so extreme measures had to be taken.” Beatrice chuckled, unbuttoning the top few buttons of her dress shirt, Ava’s eyes followed the motion closely. “I have something to show you.” She pulled her phone from her pant’s pocket. After a few seconds of tapping she slid the device on the table towards Ava.

“What’s this?” Ava looked down, her eyes catching the words Hadestown and ticket. “Are these tickets to Hadestown!?”

Beatrice nodded emphatically, a cute smile forming, “They are indeed. I wasn’t sure if you had managed to get some, but I figured it wouldn’t hurt. I was in a queue this morning for hours, though in the end it was Yasmine who actually managed to get them. I owe her a few rare vinyls.”

Ava’s attention kept bouncing from the tickets to Beatrice, her heart swelling all over again. 

“Order 22!” 

Beatrice stood to grab their order and it was probably the best thing that could have happened in that moment because Ava was considering doing something so substantial that it would have cataclysmically changed their lives. 

When Beatrice made her way back with their meals Ava breathed in, steeling her emotions. 

“Beatrice, this is so lovely, how can I thank you?”

“Nonsense, I just want you to enjoy the show,” Beatrice replied while distributing the food between them. “I hope it doesn’t coincide with a schedule, if it does please tell me, I’ll ask Yasmine to switch it out with another day.”

Ava grabbed her shake taking a few sips, she considered Beatrice as she bit into her burger. After a moment she swallowed before asking, “Will you come with me? To the show? I know you don’t like musicals, I promise it’s not super musically … more folky/jazz.”

Beatrice chewed quickly then swallowed. “Jazzy?”

“Uh huh.”

She nodded, grabbing a handful of french fries, “Then, yes I’ll be happy to come along with you.”

“Yeah?” She could feel it, her heart was hammering in her chest as she waited for the confirmation.

“As long as you’re there to hear me vent about it later.”

“I would love that.”

—

They had been wandering around for the past half hour. The Los Angeles air had grown colder as the night stretched into midnight. Ava felt the goosebumps intensify as a breeze passed between them. Beatrice must have realised because the suit jacket was already halfway off her shoulder and with another smooth motion it lingered between them.

“Ava, please it’s cold.” Beatrice wiggled the jacket.

Ava nodded, taking it from Beatrice’s hands and slipping it on.

They walked for a few more minutes without the need to speak, their surroundings and the noisy streets being enough to fill the space. There was a small crowd gathered along a parked food truck in an empty parking lot. Music flowed through the speakers by the side of the truck appropriately called ‘I <3 Churros’.

“I would kill for hot churros right now.”

Beatrice shook her head, already heading towards the truck. “Your wish is my command.”

They ate their churros near the truck, huddled together for warmth along with the music coming through the speakers. They danced in place while wiggling the sugary snack full of chocolate dip. 

A song came on and Ava jumped in place, the dish and the churros bouncing as well. She danced along with the playful cumbia beat, the contagious energy from the song difficult to fight. “I haven’t heard this song in so long!”

(*)

Cada vez

(Every time)

Cada vez que lo veo pasar

(Every time I see him passing by)

Mi corazón se enloquece

(My heart goes crazy)

Y me empieza a palpitar

(And it starts to beat)

Y se emociona

(And it gets excited)

Ya no razona

(It can't reason anymore)

No lo puedo controlar

(I can't control it)

Y se emociona

(And it gets excited)

Ya no razona

(It can't reason anymore)

Y me empieza a cantar

(And it starts to sing to me)

Me canta así, así, así, así

(It sings to me like this, like this, like this, like this)

Bidi bidi bom bom (bidi bidi bom bom)

Bidi bidi bom bom (bidi bidi bom bom)

Bidi bidi bidi bidi bidi bom bom

Bidi bidi bidi bidi bidi bom bom

“What’s it about?” Beatrice joined along with the dance, not sure how to follow until Ava grabbed her hand with her free hand.

“Left foot first, then, wiggle your hips, then, same foot back.” Ava showed her, “Then, just repeat with your other foot. Kinda like salsa, but like less involved.” Once Beatrice found her rhythm she answered the question. “The song is about being in love and how your heart goes crazy anytime you see them or hear them speak.”

“Is the onomatopoeia the heartbeat?”

“EXACTLY!” Ava answered while doing the motion on her chest as the chorus played along.

“Heeeeeeeeeey, yeaaaaaaaaah! ” Ava belted the high notes along with the scat as they continued to dance. “Hey! Hey!” Beatrice fake played the guitar for a few seconds earning a full on giggle from Ava.

“How are you such a messy eater?” Beatrice asked once Ava returned from throwing their empty dish away. She raised her hands running them along each side of Ava’s cheeks, the cinnamon sugar granules falling on the floor easily. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking abou–” Ava’s cheeks bounced as Beatrice flexed her fingers up and down. “Hah hah very fu–” her cheeks bounced again.

“Messy eater,” Beatrice repeated affectionately. 

Mi corazón se enloquece cada vez que lo veo pasar

(My heart goes crazy every time I see him pass by)

Y me empieza a palpitar así, así.

(And it starts to beat like this, like this)

—

A week later Ava is back in London. She had left the day after the Grammys to do several preliminary concept photos for the album. The album itself wasn’t finished, but the overall theme was solidified and approved by label heads. Her shift into more commercial pop was a go and Emilia had only protested at some of the more risque photos, but couldn’t much argue with a soon to be 28 year old woman. It was a fun, more mature concept to her previous releases and Ava was going brazenly forward at full throttle. 

Her town car came to a stop outside of the studio The Cruciforms were currently renting. She had promised to meet up with Beatrice to watch Hercules later today. “We should watch this before Hadestown because it’s set in the same universe” or something like that. Beatrice had begrudgingly agreed with a roll of her eyes of course. It had been the easiest way to coax her into more musicals. 

Camila spotted her as she made her way into the studio, she held the door open for Ava to come in from the cold weather. “Beatrice is upstairs, I think she’s finishing up something.” She gave Ava a quick hug. “The rest of us are off to hunker down for the day, it’s looking pretty grim out there.”

“I hear we might get a bit of snow.”

“We’ll see. It doesn’t happen often, but when it does this entire country turns into a shit show.” Camila rolled her eyes good naturedly, waving goodbye.

“See ya, Cam.”

Ava took the steps one at a time, the small backpack on her back bouncing along with her. She could see the red sign up of a recording session still in progress, but continued undeterred. She quietly sneaked inside the production room and closed the door slowly behind her.

Beatrice’s back faced her through the glass windows. She sat on a stool with an acoustic guitar balanced on her thighs. There were two microphones hooked up in front of her, one for the guitar and the other by her face. She delicately plucked the strings for a bit, putting together a couple of chord progressions while humming before reaching over to the music stand where some sheet music sat. She wrote the chords on the paper before playing from where she left off, so soft that Ava was straining to hear it.

(*)

I'm so bewildered

What's this new desire called?

I didn't know that much at all 'bout love before

But now, I think I'm learning

Hearing Beatrice sing like this was an entirely new experience. A lot of what she was familiar with were bombastic rock songs, where belting out was the norm. This was intimate and emotionally vulnerable, which was not the Beatrice she had come to know. Not that she didn’t think Beatrice wasn’t capable of it, just that as of right now the woman had been like a tightly bound book. Much like her journal.

 Ava knew she was intruding into something she shouldn’t be and she quickly decided that she would be good, she would be respectful of Beatrice. So, she stepped away from the console, even though all she wanted to do was stay and listen. 

You bewitched me

From the first time that you kissed me

Waited all night

Then we ran down the street in the late London light

The world froze around us, you kissed me good night

She froze. Every muscle in her body was screaming at her to stay. How could she possibly leave now? What was this torture? And then the panic set in. She glanced back at Beatrice who continued to sing undisturbed.  

You bewitch me

Every damn second you're with me

I try to think straight

But I'm falling so badly, I'm coming apart

You wrote me a note, cast a spell on my heart

And bewitched me

Bewitched me

Her knees hit the floor as she scurried underneath the consoles. Ava breathed in, both hands on her mouth. What the fuck? She couldn't contain the smile that was forming on her face. Beatrice was singing about them. She was singing about them running away from the photographers. She was singing about that night. 

Mmmmmmmm Mmmmmm mmmmmmmmmmm Mmmm Mmmm

You're not even gone

I already miss you

What's going on?

I've never been through

This all-consuming fire fuming

Cursing at the moon and losing all control and crying

'Cause I think I'm falling

The chorus repeated itself again, Ava had not misheard. The song was about them. The song was about Beatrice falling in love…in love with her. Her heart felt like it was about to burst through her chest. She was sure she wasn’t breathing anymore. This was a love song. A love song about everything that she herself was feeling…had been feeling. And Beatrice, she had put it into song. Had perfectly encapsulated everything in a perfect love song. Ava had never been the subject of a song, much less this kind of song. 

It was quiet. Beatrice had finished. She could hear every movement as the guitar was placed back on the stand and as Beatrice’s shoes walked along the carpeted studio floor. She was opening the door. Ava stayed absolutely still, she watched as Beatrice walked into the production room and grabbed her water bottle from the table, exiting the space. 

Her lungs wanted to explode. She breathed in, her shoulders shaking from lack of oxygen. What the fuck was she going to do? Does she slip out? Does she confront Beatrice? No. Absolutely, and irrevocably no. Okay, she was on her feet. She was going to leave before Beatrice returned. That was the plan and it was a solid plan.

Except the door opened once again and Beatrice walked in, head down, typing on her phone. Ava’s butt vibrated, loud enough to catch the attention of the messenger. 

“Ava?” She looked like a deer caught in the headlights. “When did you come in?” Beatrice’s voice was slightly panicked, her eyes quickly checking inside the recording area.

Ava wanted the entire earth to cave in from underneath her. “Heeeeeeeey,” She replied back nervously.

Beatrice quirked one of her eyebrows suspiciously. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah…yeah everything’s fine,” Ava wrung her hands a couple of times, not really sure what to do with them.  

“You’re early.”

“Basically no traffic today with the forecast and all,” Her hands were shaking. Beatrice had noticed. She grabbed the straps of her backpack adjusting it, she needed something to do, something to keep her hands from shaking again. Beatrice spoke, but she missed it. “What?”

Beatrice picked at the hair tie on her wrist, “I asked if you were ready to go.” 

“Yes! Definitely ready for some Disney magic and cookies.”

“Cookies?”

Ava gripped the door handle walking out onto the hallway, “I thought we could bake.” Beatrice walked out behind her, closing the studio door. “I brought chocolate chips with me. I wasn’t sure what you had at home.”

“Good call.” They walked downstairs together, “I should have the rest if we’re just making basic chocolate chip cookies.”

“That’s the plan!”

—

Beatrice’s apartment was so Beatrice that Ava had to have a mental moment to not spontaneously combust on the spot. The door opened into an inviting white living room with parquet flooring and incredibly high ceilings. To her right was a baby grand piano next to the opened and bright vertical window. A red modern abstract photo adorned the wall next to the window with a small fern tree nestled between them. The couch was against the wall, which was covered with even more paintings and photographs. The coffee table in front of it was littered with reading material both on top and underneath on the floor. A rust coloured carpet tied the room together. 

In front of her was a small hallway with two doors, which Ava assumed was the bedroom and the bathroom. To her left was a half wall with built-in shelving covered from top to bottom with vinyl records and at the center was a turntable with two speakers on each side. 

Beatrice came through the door and shut it behind her. She took off her shoes and placed the keys on a bowl by the vinyl shelf. Ava scrambled to take off her shoes in horror as Beatrice gave her exactly one look. Then, Beatrice gathered the black Vans and deposited them next to her Blundstones on a small wooden shelf by the door.

Next to the vinyl shelf wall was an entryway leading to a small kitchenette with a four person table on the left, behind it were dark blue counters with weirdly bright green open shelving. It all felt so lived in. The only other time Ava felt like this was back home during the holidays with her family, where everything was placed exactly where it needed to be. 

“Make yourself at home.” Beatrice was headed for the kitchen. 

Okay Ava, one step at a time. Just look around and don’t think, just don’t think of doing anything. She walked around the living room taking in the various decorations and tchotchkes. The wall behind the couch held countless photographs housed in different shaped frames. Many of Beatrice at different ages with her family and friends. There was one of her surfing, it was black and white and she was just sitting on the board waiting for a wave. Another photo was one of Camila and her in high school uniforms. Her favourite by far was one of Beatrice by herself, she must have been five or six and she was wearing an Aikido uniform with a white belt and huge smile lacking some teeth. 

“Water?” Beatrice held the cup up to Ava.

“Thank you.” Ava turned to look at the photographs again. “Baby Beatrice is adorable.”

“She was also very cheeky.”

“Was? I think you’re still cheeky. Do you still do martial arts?”

“When I have time, yes.”

Ava's eyes moved across more photos, landing on one where The Cruciforms were huddled together backstage. “When was this?”

“Officially it’s our first gig as a group, unofficially it’s my Uni professor’s wedding.”

Ava chuckled, her eyes bouncing to another photo, “Are these your parents?” It was a photo of Beatrice on her father’s shoulders and her mother holding her back as they ran.

Beatrice came closer also looking at the photo. “Yes. I think I was two.”

“You don’t often speak of them.”

“My dad passed away five years ago, before everything. So, it’s just me and my mum.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mea–”

“It’s quite alright, I’m just used to people knowing.” She walked a couple of steps back pointing at the kitchen, “Would you like a tour? It’s not a big place, technically you’ve seen most of it already.”

Ava nodded enthusiastically while gulping the water at a concerning speed. She dropped off the chocolate chips on the kitchen table and placed the cup into the sink before following Beatrice into the small hallway. Beatrice opened the door to the left revealing the bathroom. Then, she opened the door to the right, ushering Ava inside.

The window was at the center of the room with a desk that sat underneath it stretching along the left wall of the room. Various plants sat in front of the window and on the left was a sitting spot with a laptop and some audio equipment. The room had a double bed against the right wall and directly above it the shelves went from half the wall and reached the ceiling holding a myriad of books all of different sizes and colours.

Ava looked at the shelving with concern, “I feel like that’s an accident waiting to happen.” 

“It’ll be quick at least.”

Ava chuckled, moving to the window looking down at the plants, “I know what your schedule looks like, how are you keeping these alive?”

Beatrice was beside her, running her fingers along the leaves of one of the plants, “My mum passes by, she believes they’re good for my mental health. She also drops off food, which is good for my overall health.”

“Do you have a good relationship?”

“Now, yes. I believe so. All of us went through a rough patch before my dad passed away, but things change…people change or I guess grow. I’ve grown too, I’ve become more patient with her and her with me.” Beatrice had a small smile on her face, “She brings me cut up fruit, which is basically her way of saying ‘I love you’.” She sat on the bed patting the side for Ava.

Ava felt like she needed to be honest too. Or at least give something as well. This wasn’t a subject that she enjoyed speaking about. “My mom passed away when I was seven and my dad wasn’t really around after that.” Beatrice sat quietly. “My aunt adopted me and has raised me ever since. You’ve actually met her.”

“Angry power suit?”

Ava nodded in confirmation. “Please don’t misunderstand, she loves me, I’m just a difficult person sometimes.” She stood not wanting the conversation to continue. “Maybe I could do with some growth and patience like you.”

The oven was on and all the supplies were laid on the dining table. 

Ava was in the middle of scooping a cup of sugar. She made the mistake of glancing towards Beatrice who grimaced while weighing the perfect ratio of all-purpose flour.

“Ava, please don’t get sugar on the floor.”

“It’s cool, it's cool! It’s just that it’s clumpy so–” She used the scoop and smashed the granule clumps apart. Several bits bounced up landing on the table. “Sorry.”

“How about I do the sugars, maybe you can prep the dry ingredients in the meantime.” It wasn’t a suggestion, Beatrice had already wrapped her hand around the scoop.

“I think we need some music.”

“No, no that’s not a good idea, this is a precision operation.”

“This is a precision operation.” Ava teased, already going through the entryway. “Can I use the record player?”

“Yes, that’s fine. Do you need help?”

“No, I got it!” Ava perused through the selection of records. Maybe some Carly Rae Jepsen? What was even this organisation method? It took a few seconds but she finally figured out that they were all organised by release year, which meant that if she wanted something this century she at least was tall enough to reach it. She spotted her prey, quickly doing away with the protective plastic sleeves containing the gatefold. 

Beatrice’s footsteps got closer, “Don’t slam the needl–”

The speakers popped loudly and Ava instinctively smiled like a crazy person to distract from what she had done. “It’s alright! We’re good to go now.” 

Back in the kitchen Ava began her new task of weighing the dry ingredients. “Why do you strangle your records?”

“They’re protective sleeves, they keep the jacket safe.”

“But the jacket is there to protect the record.” Beatrice was whisking the sugars, salt and butter. Her muscle flexed while she did it, a task that should have been mundane, but Ava couldn’t keep her eyes away. “Can you crack the two eggs in?”

“Can do.” 

“And a teaspoon of vanilla.” Ava uncapped the lid splashing in the extract. Beatrice stopped whisking, “How will we know if that’s a teaspoon?”

“I’m sure it’s fine.”

“What? No. Baking is basic chemistry. There are rules for a reason.”

“Beatrice! They’re chocolate-chip cookies. I’m sure a splash of vanilla is equivalent to a teaspoon.” Ava scrolled through her phone looking at the recipe, “Okay, next it says to sift the flour and baking soda. And then fold the mixture.” She grabbed the two ingredients, walked to Beatrice and emptied the flour into the bowl. 

She forgot to sift it.

The flour powder splattered up covering Beatrice’s face, who blinked a couple of times, too stunned to react. Ava stepped back arms up in defense, but the cackle that came out of her mouth was enough to break Beatrice from her shock. In one swift motion Beatrice put down the bowl on the table, reached inside the bag of flour and closed her fist around a handful of powder. Then, she set her eyes on Ava before rushing forward, hand already mid release. 

The powder hit the wall behind her. Beatrice had missed. “No! No…no…Bea…I’m–” Ava clutched her stomach as a fit of giggles hit her.

Beatrice spun around and grabbed another fist full of powder, “Oh, I’m going to get you for that!”

The next song on the record started to play. 

(*)

Don't know if I'm awake or dreaming

There must be something in the air

The time is disappearing

This moment's never leaving

I can feel it, I can feel it

Ava pushed from the wall and turned towards the living room. Her socks slid on the wooden floor slowing her down significantly. The bedroom was too small and probably didn’t have a lock. She ran to the living room with Beatrice right on her tail. 

You got me started

And nothing on earth can stop it

It's crazy, I'm falling

I don't know what else to call it

Do you believe in magic?

Do you, do you, do you

Do you believe in magic?

“Don’t you dare go near the instruments!” Beatrice yelled mid laugh. 

Ava turned to face her. She faked left momentarily confusing Beatrice before heading for the hallway. The bathroom must have a lock. That was her destination. Or it was until hand gripped hers pulling her backwards. Beatrice spun her into the living room, then her other hand came down Ava’s head and down her face. The flour was now face paint. 

Beatrice's shoulders were shaking with how much she was laughing. Ava attempted to escape but found herself slipping on the floor momentarily only to be held up by Beatrice’s arm wrapped around her waist.

Oh oh, you got me started

And nothing on earth can stop it

It's crazy, I'm falling

I don't know what else to call it

Do you believe in magic?

Do you, do you, do you

Do you believe in magic?

Beatrice spun her in place, then, clapped along with the song, shimmying backwards in a cute little groove. Ava joined, delighted with the turn of events. She did a few butt wiggles of her own before falling into the same rhythm as Beatrice in their impromptu dance session. The finger guns came out at some point along with the running man. 

Dancing together

Ain't nothing that could be better

Tomorrow don't matter

We'll make the night last forever

So, do you believe in magic?

Do you, do you, do you

Do you believe in magic?

Ava ran the towel through her hair, patting her wet locks. After picking up the kitchen and living room they were both able to finish the dough for the cookies and by ‘they’ she meant Beatrice, who, when left to her own devices, was able to do the whole recipe in under fifteen minutes. Then, she had jumped in the shower and was out just as fast. 

Ava zipped the borrowed hoodie up and walked out of the bathroom to the delicious smell of fresh baked cookies. Beatrice’s clothing was slightly baggy on her person, but they were incredibly comfortable. And Ava will admit that she had in fact held the shirt to her nose for far too long. 

As she passed the living room on the way to the kitchen she noticed that Beatrice had already vacuumed along their path of carnage. In the kitchen was Beatrice hunched over while retrieving the last of the cookie trays, the rest sat cooling on top of the counter. She was wearing a soft pastel tie dye hoodie and her hair was up in a loose bun. 

“How are they looking?” 

Beatrice turned to face Ava, eyes taking in her appearance. She scratched at the back of her neck, then tucked a stray hair behind her ear. “They smell great, we just have to wait until they cool a bit before we eat.”

“Oh man. I like them all gooey and warm.” Ava pouted, and it must have been enough because Beatrice sighed only once before she turned and delicately grabbed a cookie off the cooling tray. She blew on it a few times, then walked to Ava presenting it to her.

“I’m going to get us some socks and grab my duvet. I think it’s getting colder.”

Ava sat on the couch and suddenly felt awkward. What was the procedure? Feet down? Was that not casual enough? Beatrice was right, it was feeling a lot colder than earlier. Ava looked out the window, surprised that it had begun to snow. She walked over to have a closer look. The snow was beginning to land on the window sills and all along the garden outside. 

Beatrice came back into the living room carrying the duvet and a couple of blankets. 

“It’s snowing.”

“Snowing?” She walked over the window and sat on the ledge. “I guess the report was correct then.”

“Do you think they’ll cancel flights?” 

Beatrice was due to leave with the band for a festival in France tomorrow morning.

“Only if the storm continues down towards us. We’ll know more later. I’m sure Suzanne is on top of everything.” Beatrice tapped the side of her leg with a pair of wool socks. “For your Iberian sensibilities.”

“Wow, the harassment.” And it would have been so easy for Ava to just lean down and kiss Beatrice, so…so…so easy. 

They settled on the couch under a mountain of blankets. The books on the coffee table had been placed underneath it and Beatrice had put a couple of pillows down on it for their feet. The TV mounted on the wall behind the piano came on and the intro for Hercules began to play.

“ Will you listen to him? He’s making the story sound like some kind of Greek tragedy. ”

“Lighten up, dude,” Ava quoted along.

“We’ll take it from here.”

“You go girls…”

“ Back when the world was neeeeeee–”

“Ava!”

“I can’t resist!”

Thirty minutes later they were four cookies in each and Beatrice kept plot picking with annoyingly accurate knowledge from The Labours of Heracles. Ava had countered with ‘that’s not the point! It’s meant to be fun’. Beatrice had acquiesced after a few songs when Ava spotted her bobbing her head along.

It had turned dark outside now and the wind was beginning to pick up. The end credits of the movie scrolled through as they discussed the movie.

Ava sat up, folding her legs underneath her for a better look at Beatrice who was on her right. “You have to tell me which song was your favourite.”

Beatrice was still leaning against the couch with her feet on top of the coffee table pillows. “I really liked them all.”

“What? Come on! You have to pick one.”

“No, I do not.”

“I bet it’s Zero to Hero your jazzy heart can’t resist it.”

“No, though that one came close. I prefer I Won’t Say I’m in Love .”

“Oh.”

Oh.

Beatrice emerged from underneath the blankets, pulled her arms up in a stretch, where a bit of her tummy poked out, and then reached for her phone. “I’m going to give Suzanne a quick call.” She went into her room for some privacy.

Ava breathed in. Beatrice was going to kill her. 

She turned the TV to the local news where an urgent bulletin was being delivered.

“Heavy snow and freezing rain is causing widespread disruption across the U.K. with amber warnings in place for Birmingham and London.” The news agent delivered the report. “Forecasters say that up to 40 cm of snow could fall in some places, the airport runways across the city are closed due to snow and ice.”

“Suzanne has cancelled our schedules for tomorrow.” Beatrice returned, she was scratching at something on her neck again. “I don’t think we’ll be able to make any of the festival dates. She seems to think the storm will stretch for a few days.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, Bea. I’m sure the organisers will think of something.”

“I hope so. I don’t want to let down our fans.”

“Do the rest of the girls know?”

“Yeah, we all spoke for a few minutes.” Beatrice walked to the window and began to close the shutters. When she was finished she turned to Ava and said, “Would you like to stay for the night?” She was nervous.

“If you don’t mind.”

“I don’t.” Beatrice rolled her shoulders, loosening them a bit, “Good. That’s a relief. I was worried you’d do something crazy like run through the storm.”

Ava pulled the blankets closer, “But I’m so warm here.”

Beatrice looked down to the floor, avoiding her gaze, “I’m going to see if I can get a quick dinner together for us. Are you happy with pasta?”

“I love pasta.”

Ava also loved seeing Beatrice’s butt in her pajama pants. She was respectfully looking of course.

After dinner they hunkered down for another movie, this time one of Beatrice’s favourites, Atlantis: The Lost Empire and to Ava’s dismay not a musical. 

In the bathroom they brushed their teeth next to each other, Beatrice had grabbed a new bamboo toothbrush for Ava, and when they finished she placed it in the cup next to Beatrice’s. 

They had brought all the blankets from the living room back to Beatrice’s bed. 

When she walked into the room Beatrice was neatly stacking the decorative pillows under the desk. She fluffed the two pillows before laying them side by side. “Do you have a preferred side?”

“Not really, I tend to move around a lot.” Ava shrugged, “Like a nervous thing.”

“Why don’t you take the side next to the wall then?”

Ava crawled onto the spot settling in. “It’s a lot colder in here.” 

The window shutters in the room were already closed, keeping as much of the cold out as possible.

“The radiator here is smaller. Once we’re under the blankets it should be okay.” Beatrice plugged their phones in by the desk, turned the light off and then settled beside Ava, pulling the blankets over them.

A few minutes passed. 

Ava shuffled her feet, they were too cold. Cold enough that she couldn’t focus, not that she wasn’t already struggling to do that with Beatrice all warm beside her. 

“Bea?”

“Mmm?”

“I don’t think the socks are helping.”

“What’s wrong?”

“My feet are cold.”

“Oh.” Beatrice wiggled around a bit, now flat on her back. “Put them under my butt.”

“Put them under your butt?”

“For warmth.” She said casually, while lifting said butt. 

Ava placed her feet underneath before Beatrice lowered herself. “Wait!” Ava smacked Beatrice’s side, getting her to lift her butt again. “I need to take the socks off, I think they’re frozen solid.” And then her feet were bare and under Beatrice’s butt.

“Better?”

“Yes.” Ava wiggled her toes in confirmation, making Beatrice laugh.

Then, after a few more minutes.

“Bea?”

“Mmm?”

“My nose is cold.”

“Is there a part of you that isn’t cold?”

“My feet.”

Beatrice faced her or at least Ava thought Beatrice did because she could barely make out anything with how dark the room was. It was quiet for a few seconds, then Beatrice's hand passed along her waist, a few fingers accidentally stroking under her shirt causing goosebumps to break throughout her skin. Beatrice pulled her close. “Is this okay?” She asked, uncertain.

“How are you so warm? This is an injustice.”

“How are you so cold?”

Ava shuffled even closer, wrapping her arms around Beatrice’s waist as well and nestling her nose close to her chest. “Must be my weak Iberian genetics, we’re just not built for this.” She felt Beatrice’s laughter before she heard it.

“Bea?”

“Mmm?”

“Good night.”

“Good night, Ava.”

—

Beatrice’s internal clock always woke her at exactly 6 am regardless of how hard she’d try to change things. She didn’t know what time it was, but she had a feeling it was well past that, which was unexpected.

Another thing that she hadn’t expected was Ava so tightly wound around her body. She had mentally prepared to have a long night since Ava had stated she was a roamer, but it seemed they had both stayed in the exact position they had fallen asleep in. Their feet being tangled together was a bonus.

Beatrice held the precious cargo as close as she could without stirring her. She could probably count on one hand the number of good sleeps she’s had. The kind of sleep where you wake up with creases from the bed sheets all over your face, with the little drool spot on the pillow.  This was definitely one of those sleeps.

As the days passed Beatrice was finding it more and more difficult to pretend like her entire life hadn’t just been turned upside down by Ava. She had made her way into her heart like a melody from your childhood that is so familiar and loved, but you can’t quite place where you’ve heard it before. It was like that in a sense, Ava had made herself familiar, she had endeared her way into her life, and the moment that familiar feeling wasn’t around Beatrice felt lost with the need to seek it out again.

Beatrice also knew that this was dangerous and if things changed further between them it could lead to places she couldn’t follow. This was something she hadn’t prepared for nor was ready for. It was probably in everybody’s best interest if Beatrice would muster up the courage to stop or at least put some space between them while she still could. But how could she? Ava was addictive in the worst definition of the word. When Ava wasn’t around she found herself thinking of her, it was impacting her life, her choices, even with how contained everything already was. 

Ava will finish her album soon, which was equal parts good and bad. Good because the album release schedule will take Ava from London, giving Beatrice the space she needs to truly put things into perspective, a feat that was proving difficult with Ava so accessible. And bad because having Ava be apart from her now was slowly becoming physically painful. 

Her bandmates were probably also not happy with the way she was behaving recently. They had become her second priority in a span of a few months. She rushed through studio sessions, cancelled on lunch plans, and had made it a habit to arrive late to some of their schedules, all to meet up with Ava or send a quick message that turned into ten without realising. Mary had noticed that something was off, but of course in Mary fashion she had opted for silence and patience, which has made Beatrice feel guiltier and guiltier the more she did it.

Everything had shifted focus to Ava and wanting to be near Ava. Their album, which should be at least at the post-production stage, sat slightly abandoned from lack of lyrics. Lyrics which had all changed throughout the past months from rebellious and angsty words to yearning and Lo—. No. She wouldn’t allow herself to think it.

Ava stirred, causing Beatrice to go absolutely still.

The arms around her waist flexed a couple of times as Ava breathed out slowly, nuzzling her face impossibly closer into Beatrice’s chest. 

Well, if she had any doubts about how Ava felt then that just answered it. She wondered just how long they could both exist within the bubble they’ve created. And all she wanted to do was lay there and contemplate it but her stomach had other plans. The room had been quiet until it grumbled so loudly and vehemently that her cheeks were already heating up from the indignity of it all.

Ava pulled back her head and Beatrice knew she was being looked at. Her eyes were tightly shut wishing the moment hadn’t been ruined, but then Ava started to shake while laughing quietly and after a moment she couldn’t help to join in as well. 

“I’m so sorry, I have to abide by its schedule.”

“I’ve realised.”

Beatrice shifted a bit in an attempt to untangle herself from Ava. They were both technically awake now so it was probably not correct to hold her so closely anymore. 

“Wait. Not yet,” Ava’s arms held onto her tightly, nose going directly into her crook of her neck. She breathed in deeply and after a few seconds released it. She patted Beatrice’s side before saying, “Okay, now you can go.”

They were having breakfast at the dining table. A quick avocado toast with a sunny side up egg and crumbled feta. Ava had a blanket wrapped around herself as she nodded along to Beatrice’s story. 

“Mary was dating Shannon at the time, she was one of our faculty members, and one day Camila and I passed by when she was playing and we both knew she needed to be part of the band. She was amazing, she exuded so much ‘I don’t care about this place’ attitude.”

“Mary does give off that vibe, like the world needs to catch up to her.”

“Yeah, exactly!” Beatrice was finished with breakfast already, she slowly drank her tea and continued. “Yasmine was shy at first, it wasn’t until our conductor recruited her for our studio ensemble as an alternate that I really heard her play.”

“What about Lilith, did she pretend not to be interested?”

“Actually, it was Lilith who convinced Mary in the end.”

Ava raised one of her eyebrows, “Is that when your budding Jazz career ended?”

“It was what I knew for a long time, with Lilith’s and Camila’s help I was able to branch out more.” Beatrice pushed her empty cup aside. “What about you? Did you go to school for music?”

“Do you really not Google people?” Ava said, not convinced.

“Not if I want to get to know them.”

“Oh,” Both of Ava’s eyebrows shot up. She picked up her tea cup blowing into it slowly. “I went to a conservatory as well, in Barcelona. I studied traditional initially, but branched out to more contemporary compositions later.” She sipped carefully, “My family was already respected in the industry so it was only natural. My mom sang too.”

Beatrice inched forward, “Do you have recordings?”

“No.” Ava was looking down at her cup, “It’s something that upsets me a lot. As more time passes there’s little nuances of her voice I forget.”

“I’m sorry.”

Ava stood suddenly, “I have something for you.” She went into the living room and returned holding a simply wrapped present the size of a book. She extended it to Beatrice with a small smile. “I was walking through one of our Christmas markets back home and it reminded me of you.”

Beatrice held the present, her eyes shifting from Ava to it.

“Open it.”

Beatrice did as instructed, gently removing the wrapping paper, a process that was probably driving Ava insane. When the last of the wrapping came off Beatrice turned the frame to face her. It was a watercolour painting of the Champs-Élysées at nighttime. 

“I don’t know what to say.” That was a lie. She knew exactly what to say.

“I mean, usually when someone gives another person a present they say ‘thank you’.”

“Thank you, I love it.” Close enough.

Chapter Text

“Camila! Ava said to wait for her assistant!” Beatrice yelled from across the avenue. They were just outside the perimeter of the temporary barriers in place for the street closure. 

Camila was actively attempting to jump over one of the barricades. “Bea! I think I see where they’re filming!”

“Hold on!” She pushed Camila’s butt over the barrier and with one brisk sprint cleared it herself.

They had both managed to slip away unnoticed from the studio to come see Ava’s music video shoot. Beatrice wasn’t sure how long their absence would remain undetected, but here they were. They had agreed to skip lunch for this and Camila promised she would be good, she would respect the rules, and that they would return to the studio at the agreed time. She even went as far as putting a timer on their phones for both of them to adhere to. A timer that was currently ticking. 

The air outside was beginning to warm, with the signs of Spring becoming more and more apparent everywhere she looked. Leaves adorned bare trees once again, flowers were budding, the sun was out and the possibilities seemed endless and within grasp.

As they got closer to the shooting location they passed through various styles of motorbikes all parked along the area. Ava had given her a general gist of the overall theme of the album a couple of weeks back. She recalled from listening to a few of the songs that this was the essence of the album, brazenly bold and unstoppable, and if she knew anything about motorbikes she would make a simile about it. They went vroom vroom and the album went vroom VROOM!

It was a miracle that they hadn’t been stopped yet.

The bass got stronger as they walked nearer to the production crew. There were various temporary tents spread around the avenue just before a four lane bridge. Each tent housed a number of equipment, outfits, food, and hair and makeup set ups.

“Hey!” A very stressed blonde woman came rushing towards them. She was wearing a Boston Ballers crew neck sweater and jeans. “Beatrice and Camila?”

Beatrice couldn’t make out the rest of her face due to the dark glasses on her nose. “Yes, I’m Beatrice and this is Camila.”

Camila waved quickly as Beatrice pointed in her direction, “Hi.” Her attention going back to where the cameras were.

“Beatrice,” The woman repeated, pulling her glasses down her nose. “I’m Alice, Ava’s assistant. She told me to watch out for both of you.”

Beatrice extended her hand, “Yes, hi Alice, nice to meet you.” They shook, Alice taking the moment to look at her closely. 

“If you follow me I can take you to Ava. We’re about to have a lunch break before the rest of the shoot.” She didn’t bother to wait for them, already walking in the direction of the crew.

They passed a group of women wearing different styles of clothing all form fitting and provocative. Biker helmets were placed around the large communal table while they ate their lunch. Beatrice felt immediately out of place in her beige trousers and black turtleneck.

Arms wrapped around her waist from behind. Ava’s jaw landing on her shoulder, “You came.”

Goddamn her stupid heart and its incessant need to make its presence more known. 

“Ava!” Camila exclaimed, she had been too focused on the cameras. Ava released her, albeit reluctantly, in order to give Camila a hug of her own.

Beatrice spun around her eyes landing on Ava for the first time in weeks.

(*)

Passion, pain

Pleasure, no shame

If you like it weird, I like it strange

It's a fantasy, babe

She was wearing a sheer red dress with slits at either side of her hips, it was so sheer that everything was visible to the eyes, including Ava’s skin and matching red underwear and bra combo. She had sneakers on, which was a juxtaposition, but Beatrice assumed it was a comfort thing rather than a stylistic choice. She had a few silver chains around her neck and her hair was down and perfectly straight.  

Beatrice’s mouth felt dry. 

She liked to believe that she was a courteous person by nature, but looking at Ava right now was anything but respectful. Yes, she was highly aware that Ava was a ridiculously attractive person, and right now she was about to sign off on the last bit of sanity holding her fragile and very concupiscent mind together.

Uh, I think it's time that we should pop Pandora's box (Get it unlocked)

Think of the time that we lost tryna be who we're not (Yeah)

All your ideas are welcome here

We can go too far, we can be bizarre and we'll always make it hot

She shook her head, willing the thoughts to dissipate enough to take her eyes off Ava. It wasn’t working. The more she looked the more she thought. Were those abs always there? Had her butt always been that gropeable? Was that a thong…

I need to know what you've been dreamin' of

I wanna tell you all my secrets and

Bring all of that freaky shit to life

Ava and Camila were speaking Spanish, hands going everywhere as they expressed themselves. The Spanish inflections coming out of Ava’s mouth were doing it for her, even the recognisable lisp for certain C’s and Z’s. Is this what they meant when they said ‘like conjugating Latin verbs’, because she wanted to consumma–, no, she wanted to conjugate. 

Ava’s eyes darted to her, she had been caught staring, though Ava made no attempt to shy away from her gaze. If anything her eyes roamed Beatrice’s body and finished at her lips, in encouragement. Ava's head tilted, it was a weird sort of acknowledgment that without saying anything at all said she was allowed to look if she wanted to. 

Passion, pain

Pleasure, no shame

If you like it weird, I like it strange

It's a fantasy, babe

Beatrice could only make out a few words from their conversation, and it was not good. Ava was inviting Camila to be in the shoot and Camila had immediately pounced on the idea.

“Bea, can we stay a little longer? Ava wants me to be in the video.” Camila’s hands were intertwined under her chin in prayer. 

“You can be in it too, if you want.” Ava added while pushing Camila closer, encouraging her. 

“Camila, we had an agreement. One hour and then back to the studio.”

“Pleeeeaaaaaseeeeeee!”

Ava gripped her hand, a small pout forming. “Please, Bea? I haven’t seen you guys in forever, I’ve missed you.” Beatrice’s mind lingered on the words ‘I missed you’, her resolve quickly evaporating.

“Fine. Fine.” She breathed in hoping for a semblance of control. “Camila can do a small part, but after that we need to leave.”

“What about you?” Ava squeezed the held hand.

“I’m happy to just watch.” Ava winked at that, driving her just a little more insane.

After a quick lunch the production moved to the bridge. The bikes were now interspersed along the lanes, as each of the biker women draped themselves in different positions around the vehicles. Camila, who was being helped up a bike by one of the crew members, had changed into a black athletic Lycra and blue long sleeved skin tight shirt.

Beatrice stood a distance away by the camera operators as they consulted around what shots to take. Ava had not joined the rest of the women yet, needing to put on her heels and other accessories. 

“So, Beatrice.” Alice spoke beside her. She couldn’t tell if it was friendly. “I’ve heard about you guys, the band that is, but specifically about you.”

Interesting. 

She instinctively crossed her arms, “All good things, I hope.”

“Oh, definitely good. And extensive.” Alice wasn’t wearing her glasses anymore, and those eyes were boring into her.

A few minutes passed where Beatrice wanted any excuse to disappear from the analysis that was currently happening next to her. Alice knew something. How much she knew was the question.

Ava walked onto the set then, and Beatrice exhaled, both from having something for Alice to focus on other than herself and because Ava’s strides in her heels were so fierce that she had forgotten how to breathe. 

The crew members went to her, going over the shots that were about to take place. Ava bobbed her head along as they spoke, her black faux fur bucket hat bouncing up and down along with her.

“What do you think about the red? I thought it was a bit much given the scale of everything else being so raunchy already.” Alice had stepped closer now, she was looking in the same direction as Beatrice.

Ava had gone to her mark and was currently walking forward to the camera all while lip syncing to the song as it played through the speakers around them. Her dress flew in the wind, adding to the overall sex appeal. 

“Red looks great on her.”

Alice chuckled, “She said you’d say that.”

Okay, Alice. Let’s play. Beatrice was not going to just stand here and be poked at. 

“What do you know?”

“I know a lot of things, depends on the subject though.”

“You seem to have a subject in mind.”

“I do.”

Ava went back to her mark for a re-shoot.

“Well, then.”

Alice sized her up for a moment, taken aback by the sudden boldness. “She likes you.” That wasn’t what Beatrice was expecting. And hearing it out in the open sent a thrill up her spine. Hearing someone acknowledge it in some way was empowering and horrifying. She has known how Ava felt for weeks now, it wasn’t exactly a difficult thing to figure out.

“I like her too,” Her tongue loosened around the words, and she found that she liked saying it out loud. She wasn’t sure what about Alice was making her feel so honest. Ava had mentioned her a couple of times, not lingering on just how close they seemed to be. Apparently, close enough to have a semi friendly interrogation in the middle of a music video shoot on a sunny afternoon. 

“The understatement of the century,” Alice was on her phone now, checking through her planner. “I suggest that a conversation be had, it’s distracting her.”

And as if on cue Ava made a small wave in their direction. Beatrice raised her hand returning the gesture, earning her a smile in return.

“You’re very brash for an English woman.”

“I have to be in my field of work. Gotta get things done, you know?” Alice’s eyes came up from her phone. She didn’t have to say anything else, Beatrice knew what she wanted to hear.

“I will speak to her.”

“Good. My eyes, ears and mental health thank you.” She shut her phone, then with a wave of her arm said, “The whole hot librarian thing you got going on, I didn’t think Ava was into that, but I can see the appeal.”

Beatrice wasn’t sure if she should thank her for the compliment or not. “Thanks.” She glanced in Ava’s direction again. “I’m sure you’ll tell her I haven't taken my eyes off her all afternoon.”

“I won’t have to tell her that. She’ll know.”

A few minutes later.

“Really? Hot librarian?”

“Not my words, if you get my drift.”

Oh she got it.

They were closer now as the shoot moved up the bridge. Ava was with the other women, still delivering attitude heavy rap verses as she walked around the bikes. She had also shot a few scenes of just movements and silly gestures. 

Then, Beatrice’s jazzy piano lick began to play and she watched in pure horror as Ava walked to one of the motorcycles, lifted her leg suggestively and sat, all while the camera maneuvered around her butt and came up to her smiling face.

She wasn’t sure if her eyes were in their respective sockets anymore. Like those older cartoons when the character found the object of their affection ridiculously attractive and their eyes turned into cylinders and poked out. It was outdated and misogynistic, but in that instance Beatrice understood the sentiment.

Alice tapped her arm, tissue paper in hand. “For the drool.”

(*)

An hour later Beatrice is outside the wardrobe tent waiting for Camila to finish changing. They had somewhat kept to their promise of leaving at an appropriate time, but Beatrice was still mindful of time that had been lost.

Alice was walking to her again, probably on escort duty. “Hey.”

“Is there much longer left of the shoot?”

“Ava is pretty much done after tonight.”

“That’s good, she seemed tired—” Beatrice’s concern quickly turns into slight panic as she scrambles to correct herself, “Not that it showed.”

Alice isn’t bothered by her comment though. “No. It wouldn’t show. She’s good at hiding that. Actually, she’s very good at hiding a lot of things.” There’s a moment of recognition between them. Alice’s eyes searched hers before speaking again, “Ava, she’s all heart, she lets her emotions guide her.”

“I’ve…I’ve realised that.” Everything with Ava so far had been instinctual. She had basically been at the whim of what the other woman wanted since they’ve met, not that she had resisted. But things were escalating at an alarming rate and Beatrice needed to grab a hold of the situation. 

“You seem rational. A think things through kind of person.” Alice began, she ran her hand along her hair. “When things don’t go her way she’s—“

“She’s self-destructive.”

It was quiet between them. 

Beatrice knew the kind of person Ava was after meeting that first night. She had practically carried her all the way back to her hotel room after she drank her weight in alcohol. But she had also grown to know Ava for all that she also was as well.

Ava was briskly walking to them. She had put on Beatrice’s hoodie over her dress and was wearing sneakers again. It was hard not to fall for someone like Ava. Her smile alone had so much veracity for living in the moment and the little things in life.  

She stopped before them, “I wanted to see you before you left.” Alice rolled her eyes, then pulled out her phone giving them a small bit of privacy. 

“Am I ever getting this back?” Beatrice tugged on the fabric of her hoodie.

The small tug being enough for Ava to come closer somehow. “Nah. It’s mine now.”

Beatrice’s head shook with a laugh, not at all surprised with the answer. Her eyes fell on the bridge again, and she remembered the bikes. “Tell me you’re not getting on one of those bikes.”

Arms found her waist again, “Aww not you too.”

“Insurance wouldn’t cover it.” Alice was looking between them, but also at their surroundings.

“So you said. I’ve yet to actually see this confirmation anywhere.”

Alice tapped Ava’s arm, which dropped from around Beatrice’s waist without protest.

“All done!” Camila exclaimed as she stepped out of the tent. “Ready to go back to working for the man.”

“Camila, we work for ourselves.”

“Yeah? Say that to my contractual agreement.”

—

The video call came through while in the studio. Beatrice’s phone lit up with a picture of Ava scarfing down a churro. She stood from the couch nearly colliding with Lilith as she rushed for the door. 

Once outside she accepted the video call.

“I was just walking down to get some Miguelitos from the bakery nearby and found this!” The camera panned from Ava’s face to a rack of clothing. She pulled a couple of pieces out showing the various selections of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles t-shirts. 

Beatrice leaned against the door watching along as Ava continued her showcase. “How are you just finding this randomly in the streets?”

“This is Madrid. We get only the best reproductions of pop culture icons.” Ava pulled one out that said ‘Cowaboooga’ instead of ‘Cowabunga’. “I’m going to get us some.”

“Beatrice.” Mary was behind her. She was clutching a coffee tray in one hand and a bag full of croissants in the other. 

“Hola”

“Hola, si estas dos por favor.”

She got off the door, getting out of Mary’s way. They made eye contact for a second before Mary breathed out and said. “You need to come join us.”

“I will. I’ll just be another minute.”

The door closed behind Mary. 

“Done!” The camera had gone back to Ava who was eagerly holding up a shopping bag.

“Which ones did you end up getting?”

“It’s a surprise!” There was a knock on the door, probably Mary’s way of letting her know her minute was up. “Is everything okay?”

She replaced the peeved look on her face as quickly as she could. “Yeah. Everything’s fine. Mary brought coffee so she probably wants me to come eat.”

“We mustn’t let the beast stir then.”

“Are you referencing my stomach?”

“What else would I call that if not your stomach?”

“I’ll call you later.”

“Already counting down the minutes.”

—

Alice sat next to her in the car. She was going over her schedule for the day, emphasising on some particular bits to get her attention, but Ava was currently trying to tune her out. 

“Then, you have to approve the cover and choose which photos to showcase on the inner sleeves.” Alice continued as Ava texted. “I once kept a cockroach in a jar for months without food. It slowly ate through its antennas and its extremities until I released it. That little bastard roamed my outside flower pots for years.”

“Mmmhmm.”

“I was just thinking that maybe I am desperately in love with you, Ava. And I know our love could never be because you’re head over heels for the hot librarian, but it’s never too late to be honest.” 

“Mmmhmm.”

“You need a lobotomy.” Alice sighed, leaning over and checking what exactly was so interesting. Ava moved away, blocking her view. “Oh, so you are paying attention.”

“We’re in an enclosed moving vehicle, I have to physically throw you out to not hear you.” 

“The payout for that would be worth it.”

“If you live.” Ava stuck out her tongue, turning back to her phone. 

“Okay, well, after that we need to get together with the team to figure out the distribution logistics. I know the album isn’t finished yet, but it’s close and we need to go to print as soon as possible to avoid the Summer releases.”

Ava’s screen lit up with a picture of Beatrice in her pajamas. 

“Hello? Hi,” Ava answered the call right away, not noticing how much her tone changed. Alice made a disgusted face. Ava nodded along as Beatrice spoke. “I should be back in the morning. I’ll come get you. No, no I’ll get you it’s fine. We can take the car.”

“Oh my God.” Alice sighed again exasperated. “What am I, chopped liver?”

Ava continued the conversation unfazed, “A dress probably. I haven’t really thought about it.” She had thought about it various times and at length. She also thought about what Beatrice would wear.

Alice leaned close again, “Oh no! Is that a tunnel?” She made scratching noises with her mouth hitting the ‘end call’ button. 

“Alice!” Ava reached over gently smacking her assistant in the arm.

“You can do without your girlfriend for five minutes.” Ava couldn’t help the smile that formed when she said it.

“Beatrice is not my girlfriend.” 

“Ava.” She said exasperated but with a hint of affection. “She asks you if you’ve had enough water throughout the day. She’s your girlfriend.”

—

“Did you have dinner?” Ava’s sleepy voice came through the phone’s speaker as Beatrice removed her shoes and placed them on the rack behind her.

She walked to the kitchen grabbing a cup of water before heading to the bedroom and settling it by her desk. “No, I kind of just want to fall into bed and never wake up.”

It had been a long day. They had to squeeze in several interviews, go for a second fitting of their Met Gala dresses and still cram a few hours of studio time. The last taking the longest to get through. 

“I understand that feeling all too well.”

Beatrice took off her clothing, haphazardly throwing it on the chair across her desk. She grabbed her phone and walked into the bathroom. “I’ll just be a few minutes.”

“It’s okay, I’m in bed.”

She pulled the curtain back and turned on the shower,  quickly going through the motions. Once she was finished she spoke up, “How did your meetings go?”

Ava was still in Madrid for a few days finalising the album’s release schedule and basically the next year of her life, which terrified Beatrice in a sense, because it meant that once their album was finished they would have to go through the same process as well. And having a year planned out in front of you was a daunting thought, even to a person like her who liked to plan ahead. 

“Good.” Ava hesitated before continuing, “I can forward you the schedule if you want.”

She applied toothpaste to her toothbrush, “Yeah, okay. I’ll add it to my calendar.” Once finished she placed the toothbrush back into the cup next to Ava’s. 

Inside her room again she dressed in her pajamas, drank water and crawled into bed, exhausted. 

Ava was quiet on the phone and Beatrice assumed she must have fallen asleep, but she couldn’t make out the faint puffs of air she had grown used to. Her eyes felt heavy with a desperate need to sleep. 

“I miss you.”

She blinked awake. 

And if Beatrice had any kind of energy to fight against every fiber of her being telling her to put a stop to it, don’t encourage it, she would have. But what came out instead was so honest that she felt the weight of it land once the words came out. 

“I miss you.”

Ava exhaled softly. “Yeah?”

“Very much.”

—

After a few knocks Beatrice opened the door to her flat. She was struggling to put earrings on and appeared to be slightly winded. Ava stepped through the threshold, already kicking off her heels. She took in Beatrice’s appearance, she was wearing a simple olive coloured long sleeved dress that showed off her legs. Her hair was down in cascading waves and had cute rosy cheeks.

Beatrice had also been looking closely. “Pretty,” She said with awe in her voice.

“Thank you.” Ava wore a black deep v-neck backless dress.

“What do you have behind your back?”

Ava chuckled before extending the hand and its contents to Beatrice. She offered a single red carnation, “For you.”

“Oh.” She took it, taken aback by the gesture. “Thank you.”

“If you’re ready, the driver is waiting for us.”

“I just need to grab my shoes,” Beatrice walked into the kitchen and Ava followed along. She meticulously searched through her open cabinets for something. She grabbed a simple glass cup and ran it under the kitchen sink filling it with water before settling it on top of the dining table. She pushed it once, happy with its placement before putting the flower inside the cup. 

Ava followed her into the bedroom, already familiar with her surroundings. Beatrice pulled a set of heels from her closet and quickly checked if everything matched. Ava’s eye caught sight of the painting she had gifted Beatrice weeks ago, it hung on the right side of the bed by her pillow. 

“Ready.” Beatrice spoke up, cutting through the revelation.

The Lyric Theater was bustling with eager musical lovers. The five minute warning had just sounded off as they took their seats at the dead center of the first row.

“Beatrice, my heart is going like a thousand kilometers an hour right now.” Ava flipped through the program, “There are no swings!”

“Is that a good thing?”

“Yes! I will finally see the complete original cast, this is a monumental occasion!” Beatrice was not all understanding what this meant or the incredible treat she was about to experience. “Did you get a chance to listen to the soundtrack?”

Beatrice shook her head, “No, I’m sorry I haven’t had the time. Yasmine did say that it was about Greek mythology. Hades and Persephone?”

“It’s also about–”

The house lights began to dim and everyone quieted around them, indicating the commencement of the show. The cast and band members emerged from backstage and everyone burst into claps and cheers.

They all took their spots on stage as the actor playing Hermes cried, “Aaaaaaight!” and the cast responded in the same way. Then, he turned to the audience, “Aaaaaaight!” and got a resounding ‘Aaaaaaight!’ in return.

Beatrice turned to her confused. Then, the trumpet went off and the show began.

It was all going well. Beatrice appeared to be enjoying herself, even leaning over a few times to complement a jazz standard. And as much as Ava wanted to pay attention to the stage she found herself catching small glimpses of Beatrice. The way her dress fell on her shoulders. How her jaw always managed to look so prim and proper. And the lack of skin due to the long sleeves, which agonized her at the moment.

“Orpheus, don’t come on too strong.” Hermes instructed.

“Come home with me.” The lead actor extended his hand which was holding a paper flower to the lead actress.

Everyone around them laughed. 

“Who are you?”

“The man who’s gonna marry you. I’m Orpheus.”

“Is he always like this? 

“Yes.”

“I’m Eurydice.”

“Her name is like a melody.”

“A singer, is that what you are?”

“I also play the lyre.”

“Oh! A liar and a player too.” Beatrice laughed beside her and it was too cute to not have an insane reaction to it, but she settled for a small shove. “ I’ve met too many men like you.”

“...and all the flowers will bloom. When you become my wife.” He knelt offering the flower again.

“Oooooh! He’s crazy. Why would I want to be his wife.”

“Maybe because he will make you feel alive.”

Ava will admit that being in a dark room full of people with Beatrice beside her was inherently a bad idea. Why? Because it made her think of things she shouldn’t be. Like, how she could reach over if she really wanted to. She could grab Beatrice’s hand which was perfectly placed by her thigh ready to be intertwined with her own. 

The lead actor turned the paper flower into a red carnation and Beatrice turned to her, observing her for a few seconds before reluctantly looking back to the stage. 

“...and Eurydice was a young girl, but she’d seen how the world was. When she fell, she fell in spite of herself in love with Orpheus.”

(*)

I was alone so long

I didn't even know that I was lonely

Out in the cold so long

I didn’t even know that I was cold

Turned my collar to the wind

This is how it's always been

Ava had decided. She would do it. She would reach over and grab Beatrice’s hand. She would throw caution to the metaphorical wind just like Eurydice. It happened quickly, but in her mind she was moving at such a glacial pace that she might as well had not done it at all. She reached with her left hand carefully running it along the sleeves of Beatrice’s dress before turning her wrist around to slide her hand underneath the waiting palm. Beatrice exhaled beside her, shoulders coming down slowly before finishing what Ava started, intertwining their fingers.

Now I wanna hold you, hold you close

I don't wanna ever have to let you go

Now I wanna hold you, hold you tight

I don't wanna go back to the lonely life

Beatrice was looking at her, she could see it from the corner of her eyes, but she wouldn’t look because if she did, she would lose her resolve. The moment would break somehow and she wouldn’t be able to keep Beatrice’s hand in hers. A hand that she could now think about without being chased down by photographers or over eager exes. A hand that fit so perfectly in her own that it was sending every nerve in her body into a frenzy of reactions.

Say that you’ll hold me forever

Say that the wind won't change on us

Say that we'll stay with each other

And it will always be like this

The song ended and the audience clapped, but their hands stayed there on Beatrice’s thigh, perfectly content and still. And as the night stretched on Ava gave herself a challenge where every few seconds she would shift her thumb up and down caressing Beatrice’s skin. An act that was returned in kind after the first few times. 

“I’m trying to believe that the song he’s working on is gonna harbor me from the wind, the wind, the wind.”

“Eurydice was a hungry young girl, she was no stranger to the wind, but she had not seen nothin’”

“Orpheus!”

“Like the mighty storm she got caught in.”

“Orpheus! Shelter us! 

“Only took a minute.”

“Harbor me!”

Beatrice’s hand held hers tighter as Eurydice is taken by Hades.

When intermission began and the house lights came back on Beatrice sat straighter, giving Ava’s hand a gentle squeeze before releasing it. Ava missed the warmth instantly, but knew better. 

Beatrice stood, patting down the skirt of her dress,“Did you want me to get you something from the bar? I need to use the restroom.”

“No, I’m fine.”

Beatrice nodded before stepping into the aisle, walking to the back of the theater. Ava sat contemplating what had just happened. They had held hands. They had super held hands with a cherry on top. The butterflies flew around her stomach as she remembered the feeling of Beatrice’s hands in hers. The way Beatrice’s thumb had tickled her wrist. 

Not long later Beatrice returned. “The red carnation you gave me earlier, do you know its meaning?”

Ava in fact did not know its meaning, she just thought it would be cute since it was the same flower from the show. “Let me guess, you do?”

Beatrice rolled her eyes humorously, “No, I don’t.” But the way she was watching Ava so significantly meant that she had found out. “A red carnation symbolises deep love and affection.” She shrugged, “According to Google.”

The sound for the five minute warning echoed around the theater.

“Did you Google that in the restroom?” Ava teased, already seeing Beatrice’s face contort with different emotions. 

“I was—there was a line! I figured I would pass the time–”

“Googling the flower I gave you?”

“It makes perfect sense.” There was a faint blush on her cheeks.

Oh, they were going to play the coy game it seemed. Ava has never been described as coy, nor will she ever be. She was going to grab a hold of Beatrice’s hand the moment the lights went off.

“Ava?”

“Hmm?”

“Does it end the same way?”

“You’re not getting spoilers from me.”

Beatrice seemed uncomfortable suddenly. “It doesn’t end well for Orpheus and Eurydice.”

“We’ll have to wait and see then? Maybe this time it’ll be different.”

The house lights dimmed again and the show continued. Before she thought of slipping her hand into Beatrice’s she was beaten to it by eager fingers seeking hers and this time she looked towards her and Beatrice held her gaze.

As they neared the end of the musical Hades spoke, “Only one thing to be done. Let them go, but let there be some term to be agreed upon, some condition. Orpheus the undersigned, shall not turn to look behind. She’s out of sight and he’s out of his mind!”

The classic story was coming to an end. Beatrice was leaning forward in her seat, Ava’s hand clutched between her two hands. 

(*)

Hermes spoke to Orpheus, “The meanest dog you'll ever meet, he ain't the hound dog in the street. He bares some teeth and tears some skin. But, brother, that's the worst of him. The dog you really got to dread is the one that howls inside your head. It's him whose howling drives men mad and a mind to its undoing.”

Wait for me, I'm comin'

Wait, I'm comin' with you

Wait for me, I'm comin' too

I'm comin' too

(*)

Orpheus and Eurydice began their walk as the theater became incredibly dark and foggy apart from the spotlights on the actors.

Doubt comes in

The wind is changing

 Is this a trap that's bein' laid for me?

Doubt comes in

How cold it's blowing 

Is this a trick that's bein' played on me?

Doubt comes in and meets a stranger 

I used to see the way the world could be

Walking on the road below 

But now the way it is is all I see

Orpheus

You are not alone

I am right behind you

And I have been all along

The darkest hour

Of the darkest night

Comes right before– 

He turns, “It’s you. ”

“It’s me.”

The gasps echoed across the theater as the air went out of the room, but Beatrice was completely still.

They’re in the car. 

Beatrice is quiet, too quiet even for her. She’s been staring out the window for what has felt like an eternity. Ava’s not sure what to do. The night had been going well up until the end of the musical. She recognises the road she’s on already, which means they’re almost at Beatrice’s flat.

The car stops and Beatrice clicks her seat belt loose, but before she goes she turns to Ava and says, “Even when you know how it ends, you still hold out hope that it might turn out differently.” She stands by the door for a moment then says, “It never turns out differently.”

Ava tries to open her mouth to speak, to say anything, to keep Beatrice there with her, but the door closes and she disappears into the night.

—

They’re at the studio. The girls are collaborating around her. They’re speaking quickly and sharing ideas, and all she wants is to be present with them, but all that is running through her mind is last night's events. 

She needs to apologise to Ava. Beatrice knows better than to be disrespectful, but it had all been too much. Everything had shifted further last night and she was losing grip on the situation. 

The journal in front of her is filled with thoughts and words she needs to bury, but she has a pen in hand and she just keeps writing. Maybe if she writes it all down it’ll leave her mind and she can focus.

“Beatrice, will you grace us with your presence today?” Lilith said with an inflection that Beatrice recognises as Lilith's ‘I will cut you’ tone.

“I’m here, am I not?”

“Are you?” The reply was loaded with subtext that she didn’t want to unpack in front of everyone.

It’s quiet. The other girls are blinking between them, ready to stop a fight if there is one.

“What do you want from me Lilith?”

“I don’t know, maybe to do your job?” She’s quick to answer, which means that she’s been hoping for this for a while now. “We’ve been waiting for you to do your part for weeks now. Everything is half finished because we don’t have your lyrics.”

“You’re all more than capable of coming up with lyrics.” Beatrice knows this is the wrong thing to say, but she says it anyway. 

Mary holds her hand up, “Beatrice, you know that’s not fair, we’ve all been working hard on this album.” 

“All she does is write in her journal, and for what? It’s not like she has anything to show for it.” Lilith is speaking again, undeterred. 

Mary’s hand lands on Lilith’s thigh in an attempt to keep the peace. “Lilith, chill.” 

Yasmine and Camila are quiet, but Beatrice knows they’re holding back.

“What do you need from us?” Mary’s eyes are searching hers for anything, any kind of expression that answers what the hell is going with her.

Beatrice exhales. “I don’t need anything. I need to focus.”

Lilith opens her mouth again, “Okay, so focus.”

Beatrice stands at that, gripping her journal so tightly that she’s sure her hands are blotchy. “ Frankenstein. ” And that’s all she says before walking into the record booth.

Camila’s voice comes through her headphones. “We just have the drums and the bass down for that.”

“That’s all I need.” Lilith has crossed her arms, watching her intently from behind the glass.

The bass starts to play through her headphones. She takes a breath and begins the first verse.

(*)

Put me together, thread a needle

So I'm like other people without all of the evil

I'm trying to be normal, but trauma is immortal

And none of this is your fault

She’s going to just let it rip. Whatever baggage she has been carrying was going to come out one way or another. It wasn’t the band’s job to put her back together. And neither was it Ava’s. 

The pen is moving with a mind of its own scratching lines through lyrics and rewriting them on the spot. The drums continue to intensify in her headphones feeding to the monster growing inside of her. 

She finds her spot in the music and continues to sing without looking to her bandmates.

Oh, my God, this is so unbearable

Make it stop, this is more than medical

All I want is to feel beautiful inside and out

You're the one who can save me from myself

Destruction, 999, I need your help

All I want is to feel beautiful

Camila has pulled the keyboard towards her, no doubt already thinking of synths.

“Do the verses again.” Lilith’s voice takes over her thoughts, “You’re not angry enough.”

And so she does. She stands, pulls the journal as close to her face as possible with a microphone in the way. Her voice is low, she’s begging and leaning into the dark theatrics that the song calls for. She tries her best to compare herself to literature’s most famous monster.

Put me together one more time

Love me forever, fix me right

I could be your Frankenstein, Frankenstein

Put me together, make me better

Love me forever, hold me tight

I could be your Frankenstein, Frankenstein

An hour later Lilith joins her, already adding several chord progressions in her guitar and even recording some back vocals. They don’t agree on everything, but they’re at least trying to get through the song. 

Yasmine has brought them lunch, but Beatrice refuses to move. 

I don't wanna be a monster anymore

I don't wanna be a monster

I don't wanna be a monster anymore

I don't wanna be a monster

It isn’t until Camila physically removes her from where she is that she emerges back into the production room. She’s handed a freshly warmed takeout container and shoved into a chair.

She hears her voice through the speakers of the studio as Lilith, Mary and Yasmine brainstorm behind the glass. Her part is done, it’s up to them now. The journal on her thighs feels dense suddenly, with too much potential. 

Camila has been mixing the song as the new additions come quickly through. She can start to hear it as it all comes together and she starts to feel at ease. She can do this. If she just concentrates on them from now on she can breathe again. The weight begins to dissipate. 

“Oh my God!” Camila exclaims, phone in her hand, well, technically the phone has been slammed on the keyboard. And the jarring notes seep into her ear.

“What is it?” Beatrice just wants to eat her noodles in peace.

“Ava sent me the cover for her album.” Camila grabs her phone again, frantically typing back a message. “She looks incredible. God, if you’re listening, please send me my gay awakening.”

Beatrice wants to laugh at that, but the weight on her shoulders returns the moment she hears Ava’s name.

 Camila is wheeling the chair closer to her. “Look!”

She doesn’t know what she was expecting, but it wasn’t this. It’s Ava in front of a red background wearing a black bike helmet and nothing else. Her hands are placed strategically to hide certain parts of her body, but there’s really nothing else left for the imagination. 

(*)

Beatrice’s brain stutters for a full minute. And she knows this because the little clock by top of the screen of Camila’s phone moves exactly one minute forward. 

“Did she send it to you as well?” Camila inquires, pulling the phone away from Beatrice’s face. 

She reaches over for her phone, but there are no messages. There haven't been any messages at all since last night. “No.”

“I guess she likes me better then.” 

It’s night time by the time the song is finished. They’re sitting around the studio listening. Beatrice knows it's finished because no one is interjecting every few seconds to share an idea or an addition. 

There’s a knock on the door and then it swings open. 

Suzanne walks in with Levy close behind. “Girls, it’s good to see you all here at the studio today.” She’s speaking to all of them, but her eyes are laser focused on Beatrice. “How’s the album coming along?”

Camila perks up immediately, “Great! We just finished a song.”

“A singular song?” There’s a certain testiness to Suzanne’s voice.

“At this point RuPaul is going to drop another season of Drag Race before the album is finished.” 

Lilith laughs at Levy’s joke. 

Suzanne doesn’t react though. Her face is neutral as she says, “Beatrice, a word?”

They go into one of the empty office spaces and Suzanne shuts the door behind her. She doesn’t sit on the available chairs nearby, choosing to stand with her arms crossed in front of the door. 

Not a lot of things in life make Beatrice nervous, but Suzanne had this insane ability to make her feel like she had fucked up somehow. 

“I thought you and I were on the same page.” Suzanne begins and Beatrice knows exactly where the conversation is going to go. “I thought we both understood the amount of work it would take to make this possible.”

Beatrice sighs, “I’ve done everything you’ve asked of me.”

“And you think that’s enough?”

“I’ve walked runways, frolicked on stage and bent over backwards to run from interviews to fittings, to training, to festivals for months now.” Her voice is raising all on its own, she can feel the anger bubbling, as the heat begins to rise to her neck. “I haven’t slept for more than a few hours a night to meet schedules.”

She sits on a chair, hand on her forehead as Suzanne speaks, “You know you won’t get a second chance at this.” Her voice is calmer now, but still unreserved. “Any of you.”

“I’m aware of that.”

“Your bandmates are relying on you and you’ve been distracted.”

All Beatrice can do is nod because Suzanne is right. Her bandmates are right. She is messing this up for them. Everything they’ve worked for is culminating in this moment and she hasn’t been present.

“I will fix it.”

“See to it that you do.”

Suzanne closes the door behind her leaving Beatrice to her thoughts. She doesn’t know how long she sits there, but her sleeves are damp and her throat feels like there’s something lodged inside it.

I was doing fine

'Til I hit rock bottom

Opened up my problems

Watch that poison blossom

“Beatrice.” It’s Yasmine, she’s leaning on the doorframe. “We’re going to rent a karaoke room.”

She runs her sleeves across her eyes at a last ditch effort for some kind of composure, but she’s sure it’s obvious she’s been crying.

Yasmine’s hand stretches out for her to take. 

—

She’s outside Ava’s studio. And it’s 10pm on Wednesday night and she’s been outside for what has felt like hours. Beatrice was sure the businesses nearby have footage of her pacing outside like a criminal at this point. 

She has been deliberating going inside. Going inside means speaking to Ava after what happened Saturday night. A conversation that she herself was not ready to have, but needed to. It had been quiet between them since then, just the odd checking in text or late night voice note. 

They need to talk. 

They need to talk about everything. And it has to happen now because she can’t function anymore. This, whatever it is between them, is eating away at everything she does and she can’t ignore it anymore or pretend it’s not happening. Boundaries needed to be set. Rules needed to be followed.

Beatrice has an obligation to bring focus back to her and her bandmates’ careers. She inhales, taking in as much courage as possible. She grips the studio's door open, waves at the security guard, and climbs the steps. She hasn’t told Ava that she would be by, which was probably for the best because even just hearing Ava happily agree to a meet up would thwart her resolve.  

The studio’s recording light is on, and Beatrice knows she’s about to intrude, but this is for the best. She has thought about it countless times, they need to slow down, things need to be put into perspective. She believes or hopes Ava will understand her, they’re friends, and yes, Beatrice knows just how loose that term is right now between them.

She knocks on the door. It won’t take long. She’ll ask Ava for a few minutes. They’ll talk and then she’ll take the train home where she’ll sleep for a few hours before her flight tomorrow. She can do it.

Michael opens the door surprised to see her, but doesn’t hesitate to let her in, already used to her presence in the studio. “Ava didn’t say you’d be by.”

“No, I had some free time and thought I’d pass by.” Ava’s in the booth, her back is facing them. She’s got headphones on and is scribbling things down in her messy journal. “How’s the session going?”

“Not good. We can’t seem to get on the same page about the song.” He’s running a hand across his face, obviously tired.

“I see.”

He walks backwards pulling a chair to sit onto. “Last songs are always like this though, it’s hard to let go of a project.”

When her eyes turn to Ava again she’s looking directly at her. Her hair is up in a messy bun with their hair tie. The thought of ‘their hair tie’ lingers in her mind as she looks down at her wrist finding the pair there. She seems happy to see her, though Beatrice can tell that she’s tired as well. Her head goes slightly to the side in question, like she can’t believe Beatrice is there before she bounces off the stool and opens the door to them.

“Hey…hey,” Ava said, arms open and headed for Beatrice. She needs to keep the hug short, she needs to set boundaries. Ava nuzzles into her so strongly that all Beatrice can do is hold her closely. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?” 

She needs to let go. She doesn’t.

Michael speaks, breaking the moment. “Maybe Beatrice can help us out of the hole we’ve dug ourselves into.”

“Beatrice can do anything, she’s amazing.” Ava’s compliment comes out so effortlessly. She walks to the computer showing what must be thirty seconds of vocal work and  presses play.

Solo hay riesgo si hay algo que perder

(there's only risk if there's something to lose)

Las llamas son bonitas porque no tienen orden

(Flames are pretty because they’re chaotic)

Y el fuego es bonito porque todo lo rompe

(And fire is pretty because it consumes everything)

It was a small segment of just Ava’s voice and it was haunting. And in moments like this she wishes she could comprehend the lyrics. The harrowing delivery was enough for Beatrice to understand the emotional impact of the song, but it wasn’t enough.

“Is that all?” She asked, but she already knew the answer. Ava and Michael both nodded in confirmation. She looks at Ava, “What do you want to say? What are you going for?”

She doesn’t reply, she just walks back into the recording room and grabs her journal. She hands it over to Beatrice, a couple of loose pages falling on the floor. They both bend to pick them up, hands accidentally brushing in the process. 

Beatrice sets the journal on the desk nearby, hands running along words she doesn’t understand. It frustrates her, not being able to share this with Ava. Not being able to understand each other, even with something as simple as written words.

Ava must notice because she’s by her side, hand stilling hers. “Let me help you.”

It’s so simple. “Okay.”

“The general gist is something that was once so intense and beautiful coming to an end.” Beatrice wants to poof out of existence. “Like fame or–”

“Like a flower?”

Ava considers her for a moment, then nods. “Yes, like a flower.” She writes something down. 

“You want to compare fame to the decay of a flower?”

Ava’s eyebrows lift at that. “Well, no, that wasn’t the plan, but that's a wonderful idea.”

Beatrice pushes the chair to the side and sits in front of the journal. She opens her hand wiggling it a couple of times for Ava’s pen, which is willingly given. She finds a few empty spots on the page and writes. Line after line she writes. And Ava plops herself down on the table next to the journal and watches her. 

It must have been a few minutes later when Michael clears his throat. “Ladies, I think I’m going to go for the night.” He’s already slinging his backpack across his shoulder. “The song seems to be under control.” 

Ava must nod because Beatrice hears the door close soon afterwards. 

“Show me.”

Beatrice hands over the journal. She’s nervous.

“Sakura?”

“Impermanence.” Ava’s eyebrows scrunch. “Fame and its volatility can be compared to when a Sakura blooms. As the flowers emerge everyone watches its beauty, but as time passes by and the blooms decay it loses focus.”

“Oh.”

“I can think of something else if you don’t think it goes with your idea for the song.”

“No,” Ava shook her head. “It’s beautiful. Do you mind if I rewrite it in Spanish?”

They understood each other. The obstacle that seemed so daunting before was gone. “Not at all.” 

She watched as Ava tore a blank page from the back of the journal, making a quick work of the lyrics. “I think it should just be my voice.” She stopped writing to look at Beatrice, “For the emphasis. Like, an audience witnessing something for a short time before its beauty fades.”

“There should be a buildup, something impending and inevitable.”

Ava is off the desk, she looks from Beatrice to the production equipment.

“I got it.”

Ava’s on the stool with headphones on within seconds. 

“Okay.”

And that’s all the cue she needs to begin.

(*)

Flor de sakura

(Sakura flower)

Flor de sakura

Ser una popstar nunca te dura

(Being a popstar never lasts)

Flor de sakura

Flor de sakura

No me da pena, me da ternura

(It gives me no sadness, it gives me no tenderness)

Ava’s falsetto is unmatched as she sings the lyrics with a haunting delivery. She stops and looks at Beatrice for some kind of approval.

“Keep going. Just do it in one take.”

And that’s all the encouragement she needs.

No pa siempre pues ser una estrella y brillar

(You can't be a star and shine forever)

Via reírme cuando tenga 80 y mire p'atrás

(I'm gonna laugh when I'm 80 and look back)

Nunca m'ha dao miedo la risa de un loco

(I've never been afraid of a crazy man's laughter)

Más miedo me da el que miente o el que ríe poco

(I'm more scared of a liar or someone who doesn't laugh much)

Ava continues through the verse as Beatrice adjusts the keyboard's tone in front of her. Finding the perfect morose synthesizers to match Ava’s voice. 

La que sabe, sabe

(If you know, you know)

Que si estoy en esto es para romper

(That if I'm in this, then it's to break)

Y si me rompo con esto, pues me romperé

(And if I break to this, then, I'll break)

¿Y qué?

(So what)

“The recording from before. I want that to be the ending,” Ava’s in the room again, she’s dragging a chair across to sit by Beatrice who nods.

“What do you think about this?” Beatrice plays a few notes on the keyboard as Ava’s voice from before plays in the background. “Then, the build up during the second verse.” She continues playing, now adding a few chord progressions. 

“It sounds like death.” Ava doesn’t seem turned off by it.

Beatrice keeps playing along, improvising the synthesizers as the vocals continue. 

After a few minutes the keyboard inputs are in the production program and they’re both listening along. 

Ava touches her hand on the mouse, “Add a reverb to the synths.”

Beatrice nods, doing as instructed, “Your voice control is incredible, did you know that?” Ava gives her a small smile before leaning and putting her head on her shoulder.

They listen through again. Something is missing. 

It has been hours at this point. Ava is rubbing her eyes, a couple of yawns have already escaped. At some point she undid the belt and button of her jeans, leaving her shirt untucked. Little stray hairs frame her face. Beatrice’s own black sweater has been discarded by the couch. 

Beatrice stands, pacing the room. She bunches up the sleeves of her button up before placing her hands in the pockets of her pants. The sooner she thinks of something the sooner Ava can rest. 

“Stars like attention.” Maybe if she talks it out something will come to her. Ava doesn’t shift from her spot. Her head is resting on the palm of her hand, eyes shut. “They like to put on a show, sing to people, and they like approval.” She walks back to the computer, clicks a few times and presses play.

The song takes the pretense of a live recording, making the listener feel as if they’re in the middle of the performance. Ava looks up then, her features changing along as the song progresses. Ava stands beside her raising the volume so unbearably high that Beatrice is sure the street below can hear the song as the echo of Ava’s voice consumes the studio. 

And then the song ends and they’re both standing there in silence.

Ava’s chest is constricting at a rate that alarms Beatrice but she doesn’t have time to figure out what it means because Ava’s arms wrap around her neck in a searing kiss. She stumbles backwards caught off guard. Her hands land on the console to stop their momentum. 

She’s too shocked to move, which causes Ava to pull back. Beatrice’s chest is now matching Ava’s erratic breathing.  She makes the mistake of meeting Ava’s eyes, which are already on hers as hands delicately run along her arms, urging, coaxing. 

Ava grips both her hands in hers, eyes looking between her mouth and her eyes, searching for consent, but when no protest comes she leans in brushing their noses slowly together for what feels like an eternity before initiating another kiss. This time Beatrice closes her eyes letting the sensation settle, tilting her mouth to meet Ava’s, deepening it. They pull back and Ava sighs, the puffs of her exhale tickling Beatrice’s moist lips. 

Ava’s phone goes off from atop the computer table. They both blink their eyes open looking in the direction of the device. The moment ruined. 

Emilia.

Ava loosens one of her hands from Beatrice’s before reaching for the phone. She slides her thumb across the screen and accepts the call, putting the phone to her ear. 

“What?” Ava answers, exasperated. 

This gives Beatrice the time she needs to think again. And everything is screaming at her to go, but Ava has a hold of her hand. 

Ava sighs, running a thumb along her wrist, “Give me a second.” She speaks into the phone before releasing her hand and walking into the recording room. 

When Ava’s back is to her Beatrice gathers her things, careful to not alert Ava. She’s pulling the studio door open before she knows it, placing one foot in front of the other. 

Then, she hears Ava’s voice from behind. “Beatrice.”

She keeps going. She’s by the top of the stairs now.

“Beatrice!” Ava sounds distressed and out of breath. “Beatrice, look at me.”

Don’t turn around.

Don’t turn around.

Don’t turn around.

Chapter Text

They’re walking the red carpet at The Brit Awards as flashes from eager photographers capture their eyes and every millimeter of her cornea is riddled with overexposure spots. Beatrice wore a silk crepe ivory top that revealed her midriff with a black asymmetrical skirt that had a slit up her thigh. She glanced around to the other members who posed beside her, they were wearing the same black and white colour scheme, but had different styles, each representative of the member’s preferences. 

The photographers all shouted to get their attention, making her want to grimace more than smile. It was all just a convoluted mess of bodies and being pushed and led to photo spots or interviewers. Assistants walked after their artist, entourages followed. Levy was different though, if anything they were following him and his lead. He knew the ins and outs of events like this and was a much needed floaty in the ever bobbing ship that was their public persona.

They had received another nomination for Best New Artist on top of their Rising Star one, which according to Suzanne was ‘expected’ and to ‘not let it get to your heads’. They were also performing their new song, which she was actually looking forward to. This would be one of their first promotional instances for their first album and the perfect audience to kick things into motion. 

“Alright, follow along my little sheep, we have a table with alcohol to get to,” Levy he spoke, fingers snapping above his head.

It was midway through the show at this point and they were backstage getting ready for their musical number. The band members had kept their original outfits for the performance, but she had changed into something more attention seeking and modern. This time, a white asymmetrical halter top short dress combo that exposed her arms and too much of her chest and torso. She wasn’t sure what the point of the stockings was at this point, but didn’t want to argue with Levy and their stylist. She needed to have sex appeal because ‘Beatrice, unfortunately that’s what sells and you have the body for it so you might as well flaunt it’. Her hair was gelled, split down the middle and straight, which was kind of like her life at the moment … minus the straight.

A sound tech came with her in ears and made a quick job of putting it on. The rest of the members were by the side of the stage already waiting for her.

“Wow, look at you.” Camila said. Then, whistled for the added effect. 

“Shut up.” She replied affronted, but definitely knew she looked hot.

Mary was looking at her, slightly concerned. “You asked your mother not to watch, right?”

“I assure you my mother is not watching. Nor does she know what the song is about.”

“Good. Can't have you revisiting that trauma outside the stage.”

This song was probably one of the first she had ever written. Neatly tucked away in her journal for what now seems like years. There was never a right moment to give it the proper attention it required because that involved actually sitting down and facing years of repressed feelings and overall stress inducing trauma. 

And this was it. She had decided that this was the only way forward for her and life in the spotlight.

The host was about to introduce them and that was her cue to walk onto the dark stage, the members would follow after a few seconds. She sat at the marked spot and crossed her legs, hands hovering above the guqin. The audience cheered as the introduction finished and the lights dimmed.

The three enormous circular array of lights above her pulsed bright orange in time with the pick of her fingers against the instrument. The fog took over the stage, looking as if the floor burned underneath her. Yasmine’s cymbals rang three times and then the drums began from behind indicating the members were all in place. She began to sing into the angled microphone in front of her.

(*)

Not a secret, not a problem

Not a symptom or cure

Not a villain, not a mistake

Not in the eyes of God

Not a weakness, not a failure

Not a savior, oh no

Not a secret, not a problem

The lights now turned a grey white, casting her in shadows. Beatrice stood grabbing the microphone from the stand. She started to strut down the runway, avoiding looking directly at the camera, only facing ahead into the arena and the audience around her. The lights began to strobe, making her movements bizarre and abnormal.

I, I

I am the number you can never divide

You crossed the line but multiplied the lies

I survived a social suicide

She gripped the air in front of her, then brought her hands down her body, running it along her torso in a downward motion. Two female dancers climbed the stairs beside the stage and joined in as she continued her fierce walk down the long stage.

I, I

Decisions were not mine

You closed me off, a jail personified

Yeah, I survived a social suicide

'Cause now that I'm your age

I just can't imagine

Why did you do it?

What the hell were you thinking?

'Cause I'm not a secret

And I'm not a problem

Why did you do it?

What the hell were you thinking?

The two dancers came close as she lifted her free arm wrist up, lazily pointing across the arena. As she did this the dancers caressed her body up and down, it was sexual, portraying that what she was was acceptable in the eyes of the world.

'Cause now that I'm your age 

Not a secret, not a problem

Not a symptom, not a villain

'Cause now that I'm your age 

 Not a mistake, not a weakness

Not a symptom, not a villain

'Cause now that I'm your age 

I survived a social suicide 

Not a failure, not a martyr

'Cause now that I'm your age 

I survived a social suicide 

Not a failure, not a martyr

Her voiceover took over the arena as she joined the dancers in fluid and freeing dance. Her movement came first then theirs, imitating her. 

You know, we all have a monster inside of us

And we have a choice

We have to decide

She faced the audience as the dancers left the stage, leaving her all on her own. She held the microphone to her lips and cried, “ But you, you fuck with my life!” She turned towards her bandmates and began to strut back up stage as the light began to strobe again.

Ayy, yeah

Ayy, yeah, ayy, yeah

Ayy, yeah, ayy, yeah

Ayy, yeah, ayy, yeah

Ayy, yeah, ayy, yeah

Ayy, yeah, ayy, yeah

Ayy, yeah, ayy, yeah

She was by them now as they continued to play the song to its completion. She raised the stand at the center of the stage and deposited the microphone. Her voice rang out intimidating and combative as the pose she held personified the anger within. She shoved the microphone down, it popped, joining her deformed voice as she stood there while the lights continued to strobe.

Beatrice wasn’t sure what happened as the lights dimmed and she rushed backstage because she was quickly tackled by four pairs of arms. Her bandmates bounced around her cheering at the insane performance that had just taken place. 

“Beatrice, that was so cool!” Yasmine had somehow managed to loosen herself enough to speak.

A hand groped her ass. “Yeah, baby!” It was Camila. She proceeded to spank it a few more times for good measure.

Her chest heaved, as her mind played catchup. She had essentially just come out to the world and it felt good. It was liberating to finally be whole and not hide behind a facade of herself. A stunt like this was of course intricately planned and spoken about at length. The band had agreed on one condition. If it was what she wanted.

The path was clear and she would not waste it. 

It’s later when she’s in bed, all the emotions from the night finally catching up that her phone vibrates from her desk and a sinking feeling settles in her stomach. Deep down she knows who it is. It doesn’t surprise her how innate the urge to grab the device is. She lays there for what seems like an eternity. Until she can’t take it anymore. So, she kicks the duvet off and swipes the phone open in one swift motion.

[You finished the song. It’s beautiful.]

She doesn’t even know what force had compelled her to show Ava the lyrics all those months ago. She has to stay strong and not respond, strong enough for both of them. 

She shuts the screen. 

—

(*)

How long can I leave the lights in the ceiling on?

And the static from the TV keeps me company 'til I'm gone

'Cause I rock back and forth

Reciting words that I've said wrong

I swear I've been doing fine

When I'm busy and got things going on

Oh, so girl, what you running from?

—

Ava is a glutton for punishment. 

They climb the steps to her apartment in Madrid quickly, nearly tripping up several times. In one fluid hand off the keys go to Alice, knowing full well that she doesn't have the mental capacity to struggle with the lock today.

“Hurry! We’re going to miss it,” She urges as Alice repeats the same key into the same keyhole.

“It’s a lot trickier than it seems!” A pause. “Why do you have so many keys!

“You literally open my door just fine every other time!”

“Yeah, well you’re not rushing me like it’s a life and death situation those other times!”

The keys fall on the floor.

“Oh my God!” Ava picks them up, turns the key in the hole and rushes through the door. Alice closes the door behind her as she makes it past the kitchen and takes a left at the dining room. “What channel is it on?”

Alice yells from the kitchen, “The BBC!”

Ava wiggles her eyebrows instinctually once Alice walks in the room, “Ooooooh the BBC.”

“You’re such a prepubescent boy.”

They’re on the couch as The Brit Awards come back from commercial break. 

“I don’t think we’ve missed it.” Alice is scrolling through her phone, “There isn’t anything on social media yet, just pictures of the red carpet and some screenshots of their table.”

Ava leans towards Alice, eyes going directly to the phone, “Let me see!” They scroll back up to several pictures of The Cruciforms on the red carpet. She smiles as she spots Beatrice right away. Already pushing at the screen to zoom on her face. “She’s so pretty.” There’s awe in her voice, something she doesn’t bother masking anymore. 

“If you’re going to ogle please use your own phone.”

“Look at her abs! They’re like Dua Lipa abs, but better because they belong to Beatrice.” Alice would have to pry the phone from her cold dead hands if she wanted it back. “Look at her thigh!”

“Okay, wow we’re objectifying.”

Ava kept scrolling as the award ceremony continued in the background, she stopped every few seconds to read the comments underneath each picture. “ Slap me Beatrice Young, I’m begging. ”

Alice continued to watch the show, unsurprised by Ava’s comment. “Did you just turn into a thirst tweet?”

“No, someone wrote this in a comment.” Ava continued to read through the various messages, a strange overprotective sensation beginning to blossom in her chest, it felt tight. “ ‘Beatrice can hold my hand in public and my neck in private,’ well, that’s just fucking unnecessary.”

Alice chuckled beside her, “You know you get comments like that all the time, right? It’s like a game of Minesweeper. Will I be horrified by a comment today?”

“Yeah, but this is different, this is Beatrice.”

“She’s a public figure. She’s not just yours.”

Mine.

The presenter began to introduce the band, recounting their achievements and even alluding to an upcoming album. The crowd cheered and Ava reached for the remote bringing up the volume to an excessively high level.

“We don’t need tinnitus, you especially.” Alice said, while bringing both of her hands to her ears.

Ava sat, feet folded underneath her anticipating the start of the performance. The three circular lights pulsated along with Beatrice as the song began. 

“The girl is truly talented!” Alice all but yelled over the television as the first few notes played. 

“Shush!” Ava bounced in place as the song changed and the strobe lights began to go off. “What the fuck is she wearing?” Ava’s eyes squinted, she was having trouble focusing and she didn’t have time to grab her glasses. She stood, rushing to the television nearly colliding with the screen in her desire to not miss a single moment.

“Can you please be careful? You’re going to chip a tooth and I don’t want to go around calling dentists for last minute appointments. I’ll force you outside for all the world to see before I do that.” Ava was frozen in place and it was such an inconvenience that Alice had to physically shift over just to be able to see a portion of the television. 

Her face felt hot.

“Should I not be here right now?” Alice asked. 

The performance had reached the point where Beatrice was being felt up by the dancers. 

She ran a hand through her hair, “What the fuck! Is that allowed?”

“Umm… you posed naked! And you’re asking whether Beatrice being stroked by dancers is allowed!?”

“That’s different!”

“Yeah, I should definitely not be here.” Ava was now pacing in front of the television. “You need to go straight to horny jail!”

She ended up on the floor by the end of the performance, mystified by Beatrice. Somehow she always managed to subvert her expectations. When they first met she had thought Beatrice was lucky, she and the band had caught a huge break. But the more time they spent together the more she recognised just how much talent was just waiting to crack open and completely take the world by storm. “I guess it’s full throttle then.” 

“What do you mean?”

“Her team has chosen her as the centrepiece of the band. With me it goes without saying, but for a band that’s a difficult decision. So, she has to represent herself well and have a clear message from the get go.”

“Unapologetically herself?”

“Yes.”

“She’s going to be a force to be reckoned with.” Alice cheekily adds,  “And she’ll have a lot of fangirls…lots of competition.”

Ava scowled, she had no doubt about that.

Later in bed Ava is scrolling through recaps of the performance, stopping every so often to listen to a lyric or a piece from the song that catches her attention. She’s been at it for hours at this point, remembering back to that night in Paris when she read the song in Beatrice’s journal. How vulnerable she had looked then.

A decision like this could not have been easy. It would have had to go through various stages of approval and a lot of preparation. Ava wondered if it was a decision Beatrice signed off on or if it had been decided for her. The feeling in her chest started again. The protectiveness. She wanted to shield Beatrice from everything she had experienced herself throughout the years.

She’s back to reading the thirst comments.

“Spare me a chance, I have a stable income.”

She had a stable income…

“Beatrice’s arm muscles can crush my skull.”

They had seen nothing yet. Ava had seen the magnificence firsthand as Beatrice beat together the ingredients for the cookies… the flex of her tendons…

That’s it. She was holding these fans accountable. This was Beatrice they were talking about. 

Her Beatrice . 

The fake account is made in seconds. She cocoons herself in the duvet.

“Images that make me feel like a Victorian man beholding an ankle for the first time.”

“Yeah, well, develop the pride and prejudice to look away Darcy!”

“She’s so pretty, someone sedate me.”

“Enough tranquiliser to knock out an elephant, okay?”

“Every time I see these photos of Beatrice my legs are divorcing.”

Reported for inappropriate content. 

—

Oh, maybe there's something in the midnight hours

The midnight hours, you know

Or maybe there's something in the dead of night

When I'm sleeping alone

Where I always see your face

God, I wish I didn't though

Can I have one night, one night, one night

Where it's just me alone?

—

Ava wants to scream. She’s sitting in one of her label’s boardrooms, which is covered with festive decorations and red balloons all in honour of her album’s wrap up. The press is in the room as well as photographers, all patiently waiting for interviews and photo ops. And she should be celebrating with the rest of her team, who are busily toasting and laughing, while the album continues to autoplay in the background. But every time the album’s credits scroll along the screen in front of her a name catches her eyes and she feels sick.

She hasn’t heard from Beatrice. At all. It’s been over a month. She’s been patient. She’s given her space. And to her credit has only sent one very drunk voice note. She doesn’t regret it, drunk Ava had a point. And she knows that Beatrice has at least seen it because the little check marks are there taunting her. 

Ava’s not sure what has gone wrong between them, every interaction leading up to the kiss had been definitive and unquestionable, at least for her. It’s the lack of intimacy that’s killing her. For months now Beatrice has been, as plainly as she can put it, everything. From wakeup texts to goodnight phone calls, to all the inbetweens. She doesn’t remember the last time she fell asleep without hearing Beatrice on the other end of the phone or waking up to each other’s rustling in the mornings. 

Emilia is talking to Alice, but they’re both looking at her. And Ava knows they’re concerned. She’s been moody and unnaturally quiet. She knows they know she’s troubled by something, but they’re keeping their distance, at least for now. Watching from afar until she slips, but she won’t. She’s going to keep it together because she’s done nothing wrong and she will highlight what her album represents.

Alice comes to her, drink in hand but none for her, which is silly because if she really wanted a drink she could just saunter over to the bar and get one herself. “You need to let me know when you’re ready for the press.” She takes a swig of her drink.

“I’m ready now if they are.” She wants to leave. The sooner she gets this done the sooner she can go to her apartment and cry or eat, preferably at the same time.

She sits down across from a journalist from Pitchfork. He has pretentious glasses on and has interviewed her before. He of course doesn’t think she remembers the crude joke he made about her four years ago.

“So, Ava.” He begins, crossing his legs and putting his little notepad on his knee. “I caught your Max Martin tribute at the Grammys, what an incredible love letter to pop music.” The opening statement. He’s trying to gauge her mood. “Did you enjoy yourself?”

“It was fun. There was a lot of talent on stage that night, I was lucky to be a part of it.” 

The perfect answer. Devoid of any actual emotion and keeping things friendly. 

“Yes, you sang alongside JC, it was a treat seeing both of you on stage together again.” He was going through his notes. “The Cruciforms are fantastic aren’t they? So much talent packed into that band.”

“They’re incredible. Amazing people on and off stage.” She knew this was coming. She’s prepared.

“The lead singer Beatrice Young, is a powerful vocalist.” She hopes her sigh isn’t audible.“It was a shame that we didn’t get to hear both of you sing together that night, but I can see that she’s collaborated on the album.”

“It was, wasn't it? Yes, we happened to be using the same studio and it seemed only natural to team up for a few songs.” A lie, but he wouldn’t know such details.

Alice is just outside the glass doors where the interview is taking place. She’s pacing and occasionally looking up to Ava for any signs of distress. She hadn’t prepared for Beatrice to be brought up, but she has the media training to maneuver the conversation.

The questions shifted to the album now.

“This is your third album, the first to be primarily commercial in nature and conception, what would you say to fans who are anticipating a sound they’re used to?”

She clenched her hands down by her sides. “I think fans will be happy with my versatility.” He just wants a quote for his article. “Nothing about my music has changed drastically, there are still so many nuances from my roots and homages to great past compositions.”

He hums and writes in his notebook. The interview continues.

They’re climbing the stairs to her apartment when Alice decides to drop the bomb and Ava considers how easily she can get away with murder if Alice just happens to slip down the stairs. She thinks better of it though, the scandal wouldn’t be worth it.

“You need to talk to me.”

“What about?”

“You know what.”

“Did Emilia put you up to this?”

“No, I’m your friend. I know when you’re not well.”

“I haven’t done anything wrong.” She’s struggling to find the key to the door, always forgetting which fits which. Alice breathes out palm outstretched. She hands the keys over and they both go through the threshold moments later. “I’ve been doing my press releases and going to team meetings. What more do you want?”

Ava knows the moment Alice walks in, the real questions are going to get asked. So, she shuts the door behind her and mentally prepares herself. They go through the kitchen and into the dining room where she haphazardly throws her purse.

She’s undoing the zipper of her dress when it happens. “Is everything okay between you and Beatrice? I haven’t seen you interacting at all recently.” 

Her body betrays her as it stops moving all on its own. She recovers quickly though, pulling the sleeves of her dress off her shoulders as she makes a right and enters her bedroom. “You, better than anyone else, know how busy I've been.”

Alice doesn’t counter and Ava takes that as a win. She finishes taking off her dress, putting on something comfortable from the closet. When she emerges from the room Alice is standing between the doorway of the dining room and the living room, the perfect view into her bedroom. Her arms are crossed. She’s assessing. 

“Are you leaving?” Alice raises an eyebrow, she shouldn’t have said that. 

“Ava, you’re about to start an album cycle, don’t you want to start it on the right foot?”

“Again. What have I done wrong?”

Alice sighs, exasperated. “Fine.” She turns to go already by the kitchen before she says, “Don’t make it more difficult than it has to be.”

A dry sort of angry chuckle cuts through her throat. “Don’t make it difficult?” A pause. “Of course, play the part.” Her eyes are pooling with tears and she’s not sure if they’re angry or sad. “You know what’s difficult?” Alice shakes her head. “Falling in love with someone who is pretending like none of it happened.” 

It doesn’t feel good saying it out loud, if anything the admission is so blunt and sincere that she feels the pain of the last month hit her all at once again. Alice shouldn’t be the first person to hear those words, it should be Beatrice. Nor should they be associated with that context. She hates that they’re now out in the universe because it makes it real. It’s easier to pretend what it is and isn’t if the other person is also pretending.

Alice’s concern is even more obvious now. She walks back to Ava, a hand coming to her shoulder. “What happened?”

The shrug Ava responds with summarises everything so well that it bothers her the moment she does it, “I don’t know. She hasn’t reached out since we finished Sakura . ” 

Alice is pulling one of the dining chairs and it scrapes against the tile floors. She sits and motions for Ava to do the same. “Just think back, is there anything that happened or something she said?”

She sits and her right leg begins to bounce with apprehension. She doesn’t want to think too closely about their interactions because deep down she knows there were probably signs she ignored. “She didn’t tell me she would be by the night we kissed. It isn’t like her to suddenly see me without notice.”

“Do you think maybe she wanted to speak to you?” Alice is pensive. “Maybe letting you know she was coming to talk beforehand would have scared you?”

Ava’s brows furrow, “Why would she need to talk to me? We literally speak all the time.”

“Yeah, you guys spoke about things, but you didn’t speak about what was happening between the two of you. You shared your frustrations about it several times with me.”

“You think Beatrice was coming to speak about us that night?”

“I don’t think, I know.”

“You know?”

Alice looks guilty. She’s running her hand along the grooves of the table, avoiding eye contact. “I told her that she needed to speak to you.”

The anger is coming back, but this is Alice, someone she considers her best friend, so she reels it in. “You told her she needed to speak to me.” She repeats it trying to make sense of it and its correlation to Alice.

“Yes.”

“Right.”

“That doesn’t mean she was coming to break up with you.”

Her head twists from side to side in an attempt to alleviate the tension that is running through her body. “You can’t break up with someone you’re not dating.” She joins Alice at picking at the table. “She was weird the night after Hadestown, I think it upset her. I didn’t want to push so I just let it go.”

“Anything else?”

“She was a little annoyed during a video call. I think she was at the studio.”

“Annoyed with you?”

“No, one of the band members.”

“Do you think maybe there may have been tension? You guys have been spending a lot of time together, it could have rubbed the band members the wrong way, especially while trying to get an album finished.”

Ava was quiet. She hadn’t considered this at all. Had she selfishly taken Beatrice from her responsibilities? The more she thinks through their time together the more obvious it seems. She had taken. She had taken without realising how much of an impact it was having on Beatrice’s life and career. Their time together could have been spent finishing the band’s album or with Beatrice having proper rests between schedules. She feels sick again and this time her stomach actually churns. She had been inconsiderate and she had blamed Beatrice.

“I need to apologise.”

“To Beatrice?” Alice is confused.

“Yes.” She grips the straps of her purse and slides it across the table. Her phone is in her hands after some rummaging.

Alice stands, “Well, that’s my cue to go.” She’s at the threshold of the apartment before she speaks again. “Let me know how it goes.” Then, the door closes behind her.

The phone feels unnaturally heavy.

She goes to her most recent contacts and easily finds Beatrice’s name, no longer Donatello, now, just simply Bea, and hates how the name no longer appears as one of the first few options. 

The phone is by her ear before she can second guess herself. It rings once…twice and then goes to voicemail. “Ugh!” She hangs up discarding the phone on the table, then digs her nails through her hair in frustration.

She sighs and walks into the bathroom. Maybe Beatrice is busy. 

After a shower she’s by the dining table again. Drops from her wet hair land on the phone as she taps on Beatrice’s name again. Voicemail. Faster this time. And now she’s not sure if the drops belong to her wet hair anymore.

When she finally looks up from the phone her eyes gravitate to the liquor cabinet and all its allure. She shakes her head. This cannot become a habit again. 

—

Is it 'cause I've been feeling guilty all along?

Or is it the Gods just tryna tell me to move on?

'Cause while you're haunting me, that's what you've done

Oh, so girl, what you running from?

—

Beatrice wakes and the first thing her eyes land on is Ava’s gift and she immediately regrets its placement. Her hands automatically pat around the bed in search of her phone, but bitterly she recalls leaving it by her desk to charge.

There are no schedules today and her bandmates are spending time with family and friends. She on the other hand has taken it upon herself to go into the studio to write and record. If she keeps busy then there’s no time to think about Ava. And there’s no time to listen to the voice note.

Alone time in the studio is exactly what she and the album need. It surprises her how quickly she is able to get through some of the songs in her journal. Years of feelings and thoughts all encased within. She’s careful not to look through the pages with the dog ears, the only indication of it being her songs and her songs alone, and also Ava’s, but she won’t let the thought simmer for long. 

It’s later once she’s home having dinner that the delicately crafted cocoon shatters. Her phone lights up with Ava’s photo, it rings once, twice and she presses the side button effectively ending the call. She stands from the dining chair and tosses the bowl into the sink and by some miracle it doesn’t shatter. 

The second time the phone rings she’s in bed staring at the painting. It rings once and she presses the side button again, no hesitation this time. Her heart actually feels like it's in pain, its scattered beat ringing in her ears. She turns away from the phone and painting and shuts her eyes so tightly that the tears have nowhere to go than down her cheeks. 

She doesn’t know when she turns back around, but she’s sure it’s well into the night. The thoughts in her head are keeping her up, just like the voice note she hasn’t heard. Before she can think better of it her hand is moving on its own. 

Ava’s voice comes through the speaker.

“Hey… hey, listen, I’ve been trying to not…to not reach out and I thought I was doing a good job, you know? But then I found a picture of you on my phone and—I’ve been drinking—I’m fine. I’m home, don’t scrunch up your eyebrows—anyway, it’s a picture of you and your cute freckles, and I just gotta say—your freckles, your freckles are like little constellations, okay? I can’t stop thinking about them, like, seriously, every time I close my eyes, there they are, dancing on your face. All I want to do is run my fingers across them and connect them. And it’s… it’s kinda beautiful, ya know? But then… then what the fuck happened after our kiss? I thought we were on the same page, like we were creating something together, but now you’re just… gone. And I don’t want you to go. And I’m angry, alright? I’m angry because I was sure we understood each other, I was sure that we were something…and now I’m left here, drowning in my own thoughts, angry and confused and…and In– I don’t understand what happened or if I’ve done something wrong? Have I done something wrong? Please tell me if I've done something wrong. I just… I can’t sleep. Every time I try, I can’t sleep because I miss your stupid snores and then—bam! I remember all our moments together and the kiss and then the silence. I’m cold and you’re not here or I guess I’m not there. And it hurts, it really hurts. I’m sorry, I know this is all over the place, but I needed to let it out. And I just want you to listen because I didn’t think me and you would be this painful. Goodnight… or whatever I don’t know where you are. I guess I’ll be here, waiting for you to come back, so, please come back.”

“Ugh!” The phone flies across the room and hits the far wall. “Shit…shit…fuck!” She grabs the thing, turns it around and finds a crack running across the screen. “FUCK!”

—

Oh, maybe there's something in the midnight hours

The midnight hours, you know

Or maybe there's something in the dead of night

When I'm sleeping alone

Where I always see your face

God, I wish I didn't though

Can I have one night, one night, one night

Where it's just me alone?

—

Beatrice waits as the girls slowly exit the label's head office. They’ve just come from a meeting where the album was previewed and it all seemed to be heading in the right direction right up until the subject of commerciability was brought up. This was something they had anticipated of course, but were surprised at just how inescapable it was going to be.

“To be perfectly honest, our songs are already hella commercial.” Mary was not enthused. 

Lilith joined in at her side as they all began to walk away from the building. “I wouldn’t hear most of our music, that’s how commercial it is.”

Camila poked at Lilith's shoulders. “Lilith, that's rude and a stretch.”

Lilith wasn’t wrong per se, but Beatrice was not going to agree with her in any capacity. 

They walk for a few minutes and find a small park to talk in.

Yasmine is quiet and on her phone, she’s looking through their tracks deep in thought.

Lilith is looking between her and her satchel, face unreadable. She seems like she wants to say something. “Yes?”

“Do you happen to have even more commercial songs in that journal of yours?”

“I…” She hesitates, clutching the bag closer to her person just in case by some inexplicable reason Lilith decides to take it off her by force. “We’ve recorded everything I’ve finished for the band.”

Lilith frowns at that. “For the band? What does that even mean?”

She breathes in, trying to even her temper because arguing with Lilith is not in the cards today. “You know what I mean, Lilith. I don’t just write things for us. There are songs in here that are not ready or meant to be only a release.”

“Are they commercial though?”

“They can be.”

“Show us.”

“No.”

“Show us at least one.”

Mary has stepped closer between them now. “Beatrice doesn’t need to show us if she doesn’t want to.”

Camila has gripped her hand, she shakes it a bit. “Bea, have you written something cute?”

The flush comes to her cheeks instantly. “No–no I, why would you immediately jump to that conclusion?”

Camila laughs, “I feel like you’re secretly a romantic.”

It diffuses the situation slightly and Beatrice begins to feel comfortable again. She’s gripping the buckle of her bag, considering opening it. She walks to an empty bench and pulls the journal out. They all gather around her expectantly. She quickly scans through the pages with the dogs ears, avoiding lingering very long so that others don’t get a chance to look too closely.

She stops at one page and relinquishes the journal, she knows they won't look through, she knows they wouldn’t, but the anxiety of it builds nonetheless.

Camila begins to kinda sing it out loud.

She showed me what love is

I'm actin' like I know myself

Oh, in case you didn't notice

Oh, oh, 

I would go blind just to see you

I'd go too far just to have you near

In my soul, I've got this feeling, I

Didn't know until I seen ya

She puts her hands in her face and squeezes her eyes. 

Lilith is laughing. “Oh my God, does that say ‘her body’s like a modern art, take it out in front of me’?

And she wants to die.

—

So I, I know what it feels like

So I can wake up in the daylight

And my chest ain't heavy

'Cause you're not there with me

Tell me when that will be

—

Ring.

Ring.

Ring. 

The call rolls to voicemail again. After hearing the beep Ava clears her throat, “Hi… I called the other day but I don’t know if you were busy and couldn’t pick up. I spoke to Alice. I’m sorry if I put you into an uncomfortable position with the band. I…I don’t know. I’m sorry if I asked too much of you. Just, please, can we talk about this? I just. I just miss you. I hope you’re doing well and getting enough sleep. Please call me.”

—

Oh, 'cause I rock back and forth

Reciting words that I've said wrong

I swear I've been doing fine

When I'm busy and got things going on

So what am I running from?

—

Beatrice never returned her phone calls or her voicemail or her texts and Ava felt the bile at the back of her throat every time she dwelled on it for too long. She had officially moved past being sad or sorry or any combination thereof. She had arrived at all alarm bells ringing Spanish fury, which was an angry bull waiting to kill or be killed. 

In an earlier fit of compunction Ava had stowed Beatrice’s hoodie into the far corner of her closet, but when she glanced down at the hair tie on her wrist to do the same she found that she couldn’t part away with it as easily.

Later a text message from Camila surprises her. 

It’s a picture of the band and their team all smiling in the studio. 

[The album is almost finished! Just have a few small things left to do.]

Ava wants to be happy for them. She knows how much of a monumental effort this is for an artist. But one look at Beatrice and all the joy for them she can muster dissipates. Beatrice seems happy. Unbothered. Like the past months haven’t affected her at all. And Ava is beginning to doubt everything. Had this all just been in her head? 

There’s a woman next to Beatrice, arms wrapped along her arm, and she looks comfortable there, too comfortable. She follows their linked arms landing on Beatrice’s wrist and then the other. She isn’t wearing their hair tie. 

She sends Camila back a thumbs up. 

Sitting there, Ava feels the last of her composure snap. Opening up a chat that for weeks now has only had a one sided conversation, she begins to type.  

[Seriously? Nothing?]

[Fuck you.]

—

Oh, maybe there's something in the midnight hours

The midnight hours, you know

Or maybe there's something in the dead of night

When I'm sleeping alone

Where I always see your face

God, I wish I didn't though

Can I have one night, one night, one night

Where it's just me alone?

—

After a long day at the studio and by some miracle they all unanimously agree on sushi train for dinner. So, they slouch into the Tube with various stages of exhaustion. Knackered was probably the correct word for all of them, except Camila, who eagerly bounced between each of them with something to say.

They took their seats in the booth at the sushi restaurant, with Mary and Lilith both closest to the conveyor belt. Something that they all should have been wary of because Lilith liked to hold anything against you if she could, food included.

“I can’t believe it’s finished.” Camila sat across from her and to the left of Mary, feet already kicking underneath the table.

Yasmine interjected from beside Beatrice, “Technically not finished yet. We still need to decide on what to cut for the initial release and do post-production on some of the tracks.”

Mary began to grab plates off the rotating stage, carefully handing each off to the eager hands that stretched out. 

“What you’re saying is that it’s finally finished and we can celebrate!” Camila grabbed the iPad from beside the table, queuing in orders of food and alcohol. Lilith reached over from across the table, hand going towards the iPad before Camila jerked it away. “What do you want?”

“Scallops.”

“And?”

“Unagi.”

Beatrice raised a finger also indicating that she too wanted Unagi.

“Holy shit guys, our lives are about to change. Do you get that?” Mary continued to pull plates, spreading them across the table for everyone to pick whatever they wanted.

“I’m sure Suzanne has had a working form of our schedule for months now,” Beatrice grabbed chopsticks for the table neatly breaking them free from their protective paper packaging before laying them on top of napkins for the other members while Yasmine dispersed the small bowls of soy sauce.

Lilith dug in immediately, dunking the sushi several times. “We still have to approve it though.”

Yasmine pursed her lips before saying, “Are you willing to put your hand up for that, Lilith?”

“No. I’m not an idiot. Chances are that Camila will say something silly and get the conversation started.”

Camila shook her head mid bite. “She scares me, I would like to live a long life of over consumption and comfort.”

Their alcohol arrived along with some of the fried selections. 

“Cheers!”

“Yas!”

“Cheers.”

“Careful!”

Lilith grunted as their glasses clinked together, some of the liquid spilling on the table with how much excitement had developed.

Yasmine began to pat down the spill spots with napkins, all clustering along the liquid. “Beatrice, I don’t think we’ve thanked you enough for coming in on our days off.”

“I had a lot to make up for.”

Mary looked at her appreciatively, “Really, thank you.”

The smiles around the table warmed her instantly. It felt nice to hear the recognition, but deep down she knew that they didn’t need to say anything at all. She was happy to share this moment with them. Happy to finally enter the next stage of their lives together. 

Camila kicked her underneath the table for like the 5th time. “We’re about to become inseparable.”

She looked between her friends, it was difficult to not beam at the women around her and all they had accomplished together. “We’re pretty much already there.”

“But think about it. Once we start touring we will literally be with each other 24/7 for close to two years.” Camila continued the discussion making the whole table groan in unison. “Mary, don’t you love me?”

“Oh God, don’t remind me, I already can’t stand you all.”

Beatrice tried to keep up as they all spoke over each other. They were all excited about the next few steps in their careers. Album covers needed to be taken, music videos needed to be shot, a tour had to be planned, the list was endless.

Yasmine was handed a pitcher of water for the table by a staff member and they all grabbed their empty cups rushing to be the first to pour. “Where do we want to start the tour?”

“It’ll probably start here.” Lilith said, matter of factly. “First Europe, then probably North America and so on.”

“We have to go to Spain, my abuelita needs to see us and she doesn’t travel well anymore.”

They ate their dinner through differing stages of laughter, hope and irritation, but never forgetting how much love and admiration was shared between them. Beatrice felt good. The affection they all had for one another was making things easier on her. She felt content sitting there, just seeing them happily interact and have a semblance of normalcy. 

“Bea, you really need to make a social media account.” Camila was looking through her phone, it was difficult to get her off it once she started, but they were all too full and too content to argue with her. “I keep getting comments meant for you and my poor eyes can’t take another innuendo.”

“Nope!”

“Honestly, they’re wilding.”

“I would like to sleep peacefully at night, thank you.”

Mary crossed her arms behind her head lounging back, “I sleep like a baby.”

“See?” Beatrice pointed towards Mary. “Not going to happen.”

Lilith pulled out her phone, going through her apps and tapping one. She held the phone up so everyone could see the massive list she had accumulated. “I just block them.”

Camila got closer, her hand scrolling up and down the list, “The Beatrice fans?”

“No, mine. They like when I block them.” Lilith smirked then her eyes landed on Beatrice before saying, “I reply to the Beatrice ones with ‘you have bad taste’.

“Asshole!”

“Oh shit!” Camila held her phone close to her face, her eyes bulged out comically. “ Exes reignite spark? Ava and JC spotted together on a romantic date. ” 

Beatrice felt her stomach drop.

Camila was speaking again, but she couldn’t make out the words. The room felt small and too big at the same time as a sudden ringing blasted in her ears. What the fuck had Camila just said? She wasn’t sure when her hands began to shake, but she dragged them off the table already making quick work of the cuticle along her thumb. Anything to keep them from shaking.

She glanced around in the hope that no one had caught that. Lilith didn’t seem to be taking part in the conversation, too busy finishing off her drink. Yasmine and Camila were staring at the phone speaking rapidly. Her chest was moving erratically now, which made no sense because not enough oxygen was flowing into her lungs.

Mary’s eyes met hers. She watched her curiously for a few seconds before nudging Camila, “Cam, put that away now. No phones on the table.”

“No phones on the table!” Both Yasmine and Camila chanted in unison. 

“Does anyone need a water refill?” She needs air.

Yasmine stood, “I got it.”

It’s fine. She can do this. She had years of emotional repression to fall back on.

Dinner finished and they all gathered outside the establishment for their farewells. She just needed to get on the train and go home. She had made it this far already. 

So I heard you found somebody else

As she waited for the train she reached for her phone typing in Ava’s name on the search bar. And there it was. All the confirmation she needed. Ava and JC walking down the streets of New York. There were other pictures of Ava getting into a car with JC jumping in quickly behind her. 

And at first, I thought it was a lie

She suppressed whatever melody her mind had created, physically shaking the thought from her head. The train arrived and others around her began to board, but she remained completely still. 

I took all my things that make sounds

The door closed in front of her. She turned on her heels and headed to the ramp for the platform across from her.

The rest I can do without

She needed to go to the studio. 

When she went through the doors of the production room, anger had comfortably settled itself within her. She went around the room pushing every button within her reach as the audio equipment began to turn on. The computers were ready within seconds as she pulled her journal from her satchel, grabbed a healthy amount of sheet music and headed for the recording room. 

I don't want your body, I don't want your body

She leaned the journal against the wall next to the microphone and began to write. The maddened pen strokes barely having the time to dry before her skin grazed against it, smudging it. This was going to be rough. She was only being led by the beat in her head, but that was fine she just needed to get her thoughts out.

I don't want your body, I don't want your body

The cashier ran her items through. “So that’s a Nikka, an Asahi six pack and two Cadbury Marvelous Creations.” He looked up, scrutinising her for a moment which unsettled her because getting caught drinking was probably not in her best interest. “Can I see some ID?”

“Oh.” She breathed in with a sigh of relief. “Really?”

“Yup.” The P popped as he said it.

She dug through her satchel procuring it. He slowly looked through, probably doing some convoluted mental math. “It’ll be £536.”

The studio door closed behind her as she deposited her spoils in front of the computer. She wasn’t a drinker. Hardly ever tried to make contact with it. Alcohol made her flush an embarrassing red and caused her salivary glands to pinch and shrink in pain. But she needed to drink like she needed oxygen. 

The first shot of whisky, or if you could call it that, came straight from the bottle. It burned down her throat and as she did it she immediately regretted it. Her voice was going to sound like shit. That was stupid. But it was fine she could just re-record it later. 

She pulled off her sweater, already feeling the effect of the liquor throughout her body, and threw it on top of the console. She looked at the beer bottles dumbly realising that she didn’t have a way to open it. After a few twists of her palm the bottle cap came loose, cutting through her skin. She drank from the bottle then sucked on her bloody skin, which caused it to burn as well as sting.

She was giving tortured artist and she hated it.

Back in the recording room she sat on Yasmine’s stool, retrieving the drum sticks from the holder. She just needed a simple beat to get started. 

Once she had the tempo down she moved over to the keyboard bouncing around the C Major scale with a few chords. Then, shifted between synthesisers, finding the perfect melancholy tone and then reverbing it. 

Mary would probably judge the shit out of this, but she would make do with what she knew, so she grabbed Mary’s bass and listened as the drums and the synthesisers played around the studio. After a few chords the atmosphere of the song began to take shape. 

It was very 1980’s and Lilith was going to weaponise it against her. But that’s fine because she could already hear the guitar in her head and she was sure Lilith would have an input for a solo if she didn’t make one herself.

She pulled the microphone stand to the center of the room and put on her headphones. The synths came through them, it was choppy and little undergraduate dorm sounding but it would do. She took a swig from the whisky bottle on the floor, already halfway, and closed her eyes briefly, listening, the synths sounded just as hazy and drunk as did. Then, she grabbed her journal and began to sing the words off the page.

(*)

So I heard you found somebody else

And at first, I thought it was a lie

I took all my things that make sooOooOuunds

The rest I can do withaaaaaOoOoOout

The drums kicked in with a push of the button beside her, changing the tempo of the song. Her left leg bounced to the beat of the song, the shoe rubbing against the carpet underneath her. Was this going to be the corniest thing she’s ever written? No. That honour belonged to seven year old Beatrice with a riff off Olivia Newton-John’s Xanadu that was ahead of its time. But it probably came close. 

I don't want your body

But I hate to think about you with somebody else

Our love has gone cold

You're intertwining your soul with somebody else

Huuuuuuhhh Ooooohhh

I'm looking through you

While you're looking through your phone

And then leaving with somebody else

No, I don't want your body

But I'm picturing your body with somebody else

It was difficult to not get sucked in and bounce along to the beat. Her temperature was already at boiling, which meant that any excess movement was going to end up in sweat. The flush on her cheeks had taken hold as well, but at least her mouth was still intact.

And c'mon baby

This ain't the last time that I'll see your fAAaaaaaaeeece

And c'mon baby

You said you'd find someone to take my plaaaaAaAaaace

If this wasn’t a breakup then why did it feel like it was? Why did she feel so bitter? The guilt, the jealousy, the longing, it was consuming her. She can deal with the guilt, she has been doing that her whole life. It was the jealousy that was new and all-encompassing. Sure, she had dated, had flings, but not like this, not like Ava. Never had she given herself so freely without restriction. She should have known better, she should have been careful, but Ava was different. Ava felt different. 

I just don't believe that you have got it in you

'Cause we are just gonna keep doing it every time

I start to believe in AAAAAAaaanything you're saying

I'm reminded that I should be gettin' over it

She grabbed the microphone off the stand, head bobbing along with the beat as her feet did the same. She took another swig of the bottle. The room was spinning. The lights were beginning to track along her eyes. 

Get someone I love?

Get someone I need?

Fuck that, get money

I can't give you my soul

'Cause we're never alone

She had done this. She didn’t want complicated. Not now. She wasn’t ready. But that didn’t mean that it didn’t hurt. That the thought of lost love wasn’t wreaking havoc in her mind. Once the song was out it would exist outside of herself and she could start to make sense of everything. She could begin to think objectively and preferably not be inebriated. 

Get someone you love?

Get someone you need?

Fuck that, get money

You can't give me your soul

'Cause we're never aloooooooooone ooooooooooouuuu

and IIIIIIIIII naaaaaah

Was this song a fucking defense mechanism? Was songwriting a pathological response to not accepting her own feelings or a maladaptive behaviour to shield herself from a situation that was no longer within her grasp? 

She froze and stumbled out of the room. She needed water. She needed to get her balance, but then the room went dark.

Four pairs of eyes were looking at her. All with varying stages of concern. She could hear herself singing in the background, her voice coming through to the production room. Her mouth was dry and tasted foul. She had somehow made it to the couch, or somewhat, half her side hanging off of it. Her arm is completely asleep underneath her head. She shifted it and saw it move but didn’t feel it. 

“Bea?” Camila calls out to her. “Are you alright?” There’s a hand on her forehead. “She doesn’t have a fever.”

“She smells like sweat though.” Mary is scrunching her nose. “And alcohol.”

Lilith has already walked towards the recording room. “There’s vomit by the door, be careful.”

She tries to stand, but the room is spinning so she ends up flopping back down onto the couch. “What–what time is it?”

“It’s ten a.m. Beatrice.” Mary is pulling her up by her arm now, slightly turning her towards the seat of the couch for balance. “You’ve been drinking.” She’s looking at the empty beer bottles by the computer, she spares her another dissatisfied look before walking to the consoles and turning off the music.

Yasmine is by the door of the studio and before she turns the handle she says, “I’m going to go find her some water.” 

Camila sits by her, sweater in hand, already fitting it over her head and pulling her arms through each sleeve, “You’re freezing.”

Lilith carefully walks back into the room holding a small box with empty beer bottles and chocolate wrappings. “She needs to go home, she can’t come to the fitting like this.”

Camila and Mary both nod as Yasmine kneels in front of her with a water bottle. She drinks slowly knowing how quickly it could all come back out if she doesn’t pace herself.

Mary is in front of her now, hand extended, “Come, I’ll take you home.” She doesn’t argue. They go downstairs and wait for an Uber to take them to her apartment. Inside the car Mary only says one thing. “Ava?” 

And she nods.

—

One night, one night, yeah
So can I have one night, one night, just one night
One night, one night, one night
Can I have one night, one night, just one night
Where it's just me alone?

Chapter Text

Wednesday, April 30th. New York City

Ava is walking through her hotel room door when the call comes.

“Hey, Cam!” She greets, throwing the keycard on the coffee table before walking across the small living room. She flops onto the awaiting bed from where she can see the entire stretch of Central Park from the room’s balcony. “How are you?”

There’s a few voices in the background that she can’t discern and then a door closes.

“Ava!” Camila’s voice comes through the phone speaker, she’s eager and a little out of breath. So, she’s basically normal, give or take. “I want to say good, but honestly I think we’re all just a little stressed.”

She sits up, concerned. Her first thoughts are of Beatrice, which doesn’t surprise her, even though she’s trying to compartmentalise. “Did something happen?”

“We’re due to start filming our music video tomorrow, and the lead actress just cancelled on us.” Camila takes several short breaths, then continues, “And none of this would be such a big deal in any other circumstance but we’re running behind on our release schedule and this is kind of our only chance to get the music video done.”

“I’m so sorry, Cam. Have you guys figured out what to do? Maybe one of you can take the role since it’s so last minute?”

“We thought about it, but Suzanne doesn’t think it’s good to begin that kind of dynamic in the band.” What kind of dynamic did she mean? “We were–no, well, I–I was wondering whether you would be willing to come do it?” Camila is speaking faster now, “I know I’m probably asking a lot, but we don’t have much time to change the project and I know that–that you’re here in New York for The Met Gala as well so I thought maybe you would have some free time maybe? Hopefully.”

“Oh.” She’s quiet. That’s a big ask. Not just in the emotional sense that Camila probably doesn’t even know about but the label logistics are insane. If she were to agree to this she would need to speak to Emilia, who would need to speak to Suzanne and then everyone would need to come to an agreement about everything all over again. 

This means seeing Beatrice again. And she’s angry, no, she’s furious. She should really not be doing this. Seeing Beatrice would probably bring out all sorts of emotions that she’s desperately trying not to have. Could she even face Beatrice after everything? After being ignored for two months.

Enough time must have passed because Camila speaks again, her tone is more dismal now, “If you don’t have time, that’s fine I just–I just thought I would ask. I totally understand if you can’t.”

Camila is waiting for a response. 

Beatrice. She can see Beatrice again. 

Stop. 

They can talk. She can talk to Beatrice and hear her voice and see her stupid cute face. 

STOP.

“What’s the music video? What exactly would I be signing myself up for?”

STOP!

Camila is quiet for a moment, probably realising that she’s not completely saying no. “Oh my God, okay! So, Lilith is going to play the other lead. We’re actually flying again tomorrow morning to Ithaca. Filming at one of the national parks there. Levy is about to go get us some hiking gear.” She breathes in again, this time they’re full breaths, like she can’t get enough oxygen, “And then back to New York to film more here. I think it’s three or four days, honestly I don’t even know all the details. I think Beatrice does, I can go get her and put her on the phone. I just need to find my–”

“No. No, that’s fine, Cam. You don’t need to get Beatrice.” Not like this. She needs their first interaction to be in person, where Beatrice can’t hide away from her. “I can. I’ve finished my schedules for the week. I was just going to relax until the Gala.”

Her battered heart joins her brain now, stop . Just say no . 

“You can!?” She’s sure Camila has just bounced in place.

She’s up now, pacing the room. Camila’s energy catching up with her along with other suppressed thoughts. Thoughts that she’s been avoiding and should continue avoiding. “Wait wait! Don’t get excited just yet,” She’s telling both Camila and herself this, in a way. “I need to speak to my manager, Emilia, and she needs to call Suzanne.”

“I know! But just hearing that you can just lifted so much weight off my shoulders.”

She stops pacing, realising that maybe Camila has gotten ahead of herself. “But wait, do the other members know you’re calling me to ask this?”

“Aaaahhh–no. They’re all arguing inside one of our rooms. I’m pacing the hallway, I probably look like a crazy person. Who knew there would be so many pretentious people at The Plaza?” 

“Wait, you’re here?” Beatrice is here. Beatrice is in the same hotel. After months apart, she’s within reach. Ava has to slide the door to the bedroom shut to physically stop herself from leaving to look for her. 

Her mind, heart and body are screaming all at once, STOP!

“You’re here?!”

“Yes!”

“We just got here! My jetlag is all over the place, I don’t even know what time it is.”

Her head is against the door. She needs to breathe in. She needs to get control of her emotions before she does something she will regret. She exhales, “It’s 1PM, Cam.”

“Okay, so I’m– no, actually I think I’ll pace for another few minutes and then go tell them that I asked you. And then, hopefully we can get our managers to agree?”

“Yeah…yeah, okay. Will you let me know what the band says?”

“Of course, I will!”

They hang up. The room feels too small suddenly, if she stays here alone and continues to think, things will happen. She grabs the discarded keycard, walks across the hall and knocks so hectically that Alice’s eyes are a bit panicked when the door opens.

“What did you do?” Alice scrutinises her and Ava slips in.

“You need to go get me hiking gear.” The door shuts behind her. 

Alice’s hands go to her hips, “You want me to go get you hiking gear in New York City?” She can sense disdain in Alice’s voice immediately. “A place where there is literally nothing to hike other than the price of hot dogs?”

“For a music video.”

“Ava, what the fuck are you talking about? What music video?” Alice panics for a moment glancing towards her phone by the small desk area.

Ava turns to look where Alice is looking, “No, not mine”, then says, “Camila.” As if that alone answers the question.

“Camila?”

“Camila just called. They need my help for their music video.”

Alice’s face distorts into something between crossed and concerned. “Ava, no.”

She raises her hands placatingly, “Just hear me out, okay?”

“No. I don’t want to do that. That’s not a path I want you following right now.” Alice is running a hand through her hair. The locks fall into place several times before she continues, “Did you agree? You already agreed, didn't you?”

“Yes.”

Alice sighs irritably, “Ava!” She puts herself between the room's door and Ava, as if that would stop her. “How is that healthy? I thought you were doing well. Or working towards it.”

“Alice, please. I need to do this. I need to do this for Beatr—for them.” She draws breath, betrayed by her own self.

“For them or for Beatrice?”

“They’re running behind schedule and can’t miss out on this.” It’s her fault. Somehow, it’s her fault. She had been selfish with Beatrice’s time. Had probably delayed a lot of the band’s deadlines. If she can do this for them then maybe this guilt she’s been carrying will alleviate itself somehow and she can go back to just hurting, to just managing the heartbreak. She can push her anger down for this. “It’s my fault.”

Alice shakes her head several times in an attempt to will the no into a universe where Ava hasn’t completely committed to this choice. “No, Ava. How is any of this your fault? This is normal, things like this happen, you know this.”

“Alice!” Ava replies, exasperated.

“No.”

“I need to do this!” And it’s so steadfast that Alice crosses and uncrosses her arms within seconds.

“You’re going to see her. Don’t you think that’s going to hurt you? You can’t.”

“This will be good, it’ll give me a chance to speak to her. Maybe we can come to some kind of agreement about whatever the fuck happened, wouldn’t you want that for me?”

Alice is thinking. Her eyes are somewhere on the ceiling, and her hand comes to her neck, soothing something there. “Do you think this will give you the closure you need to move on?”

“Yes.” She sits on the bed, suddenly tired, the decision heavy on her. “Also, you’ll be there, you can supervise.”

“WHAT!” Alice is in front of her supplicating with her eyes, “No, I’m not a hiker Ava, I’m English, we go on leisurely strolls in the countryside, like Elizabeth Bennet. What do they even need a lead actress for?” The questions are coming out now like an unclogged dam. “What is even required of you? Do you even hike? Do I need to call insurance? Is it the woods woods? What if you fall off a tree? What about poison ivy? Wait, is Beatrice the focal point of the video?”

“Lilith.”

“I see.” Alice sits next to her, and Ava knows exactly what thoughts are going through her mind as they both sit in silence. “What kind of song is it?”

Shit. She hadn’t considered this at all. “I don’t know, I forgot to ask.”

“You forgot to ask what kind of song you would be appearing in?! What if it’s a love song?!” Alice is up again, hands in her hair. 

—

Thursday, May 1st. New York City→ Ithaca

It’s 3 AM and both her and Alice are riding the elevator down to the lobby to meet up with the band. They both have a backpack and a suitcase, full of necessities and the much needed hiking appropriate attire for the two days in Ithaca. Emilia and Suzanne had come to an agreement and everything else was set in motion by their labels. For the next few days she would be filming a music video with The Cruciforms.

The song, she had learned, was a breakup song. She hasn’t heard it yet, but she’s sure Camila will share it the moment she asks. She’s meant to play the love interest and the music video’s concept is basic: Friends develop feelings, date, and break up. Simple. Or at least she’s telling herself it’s simple. It’ll only be the days in Ithaca with the band that she’ll see Beatrice, the rest is back in New York City with just Lilith.

Yesterday was spent on various phone calls and only Alice has interacted with Levy, both going around town collecting different articles of clothing and gear for the shoot. 

The elevator’s ding signals their arrival at the lobby and her heart throbs expectantly.

The doors open and she can already start to make out the members in the lobby. A myriad of backpacks and suitcases all around them. Camila spots her immediately, walking to her and overrunning her with a big hug. They exchange pleasantries as they walk to the other members. 

Levy is on the phone, communicating with the crew who are all waiting in Ithaca for them. Lilith is leaning back on a couch, eyes closed with Yasmine’s head on her shoulder, they both seem to be passed out. Mary is texting, but looks up and gives her a little wave in greeting. Beatrice, who she’s been trying hard to not gape at, is standing perfectly still behind her suitcase, eyes looking at literally everything but her. And Ava is expecting this. You don't go through two months of being ignored to not being ignored. 

Camila walks them to Beatrice though. She doesn’t know any better, fully working on outdated information because if she knew then she wouldn’t have called for help. Alice is next to her when they stop in front of Beatrice and she knows Alice wants to say things, but Alice knows better. She does catch a quick side eye in Beatrice’s direction before Alice’s phone is pulled out and she busies herself.

“Good morning,” She says before she can stop herself, because Ava is finding it very difficult to think at the moment.

Beatrice’s weary eyes meet hers, she hesitates for a few seconds before replying, “Good morning, Ava.” And the happiness that rushes through her as she hears Beatrice say her name is significant enough to make all of this worth it, even though her throat kind of chokes a bit remembering everything that has happened between them. “We’re just waiting for the cabs to arrive, it shouldn’t be much longer.” The eyes don’t linger on her, instead they bounce to reception where staff members are speaking about the early morning events. 

When the two cabs arrive, Lilith, Yasmine, Mary and Levy squeeze into the first one, too tired to even communicate or dictate where each other should sit. Camila is grabbing her hand and before she knows it she is being pulled inside the other cab. It all happens quickly though. Camila is too energetic and pulls Ava in such a way that her head is about to collide with the metal frame of the car door, but it doesn’t. Rather, it gets cushioned by Beatrice’s palm, which has taken the blow for her. 

“Careful.” Is all Beatrice says, hand still molded around her head before slipping inside the cab after her.

And Ava’s heart stutters, because how is Beatrice a real person? How does someone neglect a person for two months then observe that same person so closely that they stop a concussion from happening? Sure, concussion is a stretch, but there’s a point there.

Alice is sitting in front, occasionally making eye contact with Ava through the rearview mirror and she is squished in the middle with Camila to her left and Beatrice to her right, but Beatrice might as well not be there with how quiet she is being.

“So, catch me up. What have you been up to?” Camila says, adjusting herself a little bit.

Ava sees Beatrice tense out of the corner of her eye. Then, Alice meets her eyes through the rearview mirror, minutely shakes her head and Ava knows exactly what she’s referring to. 

She needs to shift the conversation to something she can control. Camila’s inquiry is too broad and can open up a topic she doesn’t want to visit with Beatrice next to her.

“I’ve just been busy with album preparations, interviews and promotional spreads.” She hopes that’s enough to at least get Camila on the same page. “Did you see the music video? What did you think of your part?” Perfect. Camila will jump at this.

“Your music video was incredible, Ava. You looked amazing! I looked amazing! Amazing!” Camila says.

“You did!” 

“I’m so excited to hear the rest of the album, well, not just me, everyone is kinda losing their minds waiting for the drop. Do you know when that will be?”

“Soon. We’re just waiting for the vinyls to finish the first pressing.”

“I’m like so ready to pre-order it, you don’t understand!”

“What about you guys? You told me you were nearly finished.” She wants to venture a look towards Beatrice because hearing the news from Camila and not Beatrice still stings, but thinks better of it, looking straight ahead to the busy city streets instead.

“Printing as well, though it is taking longer than we want it to.”

“Do you think we’ll coincide?”

“I think the label is concerned, but we can’t do anything about it with the time crunch.”

It’s my fault .

Alice is looking at her again and she hates how easily she is read. 

They’re on the plane on the way to Ithaca when Ava hears the song for the first time. Camila has forfeited her phone as she listens, fervently waiting for her reaction. Levy and Alice are in front of them talking through the day's schedule, Mary and Lilith are to her right both asleep, with Beatrice and Yasmine behind them. 

She’s heard the song close to ten times now, and there’s absolutely no denying who or what the song is about. It is taking everything within her to not grab Beatrice by the collar of her sweater. Possibly dragging her in the direction of the first class restroom. And honestly, to hell with the band and what they’ll think. Beatrice clearly needs to speak to her. A person doesn’t write a song like that, not without going through some visceral emotions while doing so. Everything about Beatrice starts to make complete sense. She won't talk about her feelings, but she sure as hell will write about them.

She pulls off the headphones and glances over her shoulder in Beatrice’s direction. They make eye contact. As if she’s been waiting all along for Ava to turn around and face her. And the resigned way that Beatrice is looking at her is a clear indication that she knows that Ava has figured it out. 

Beatrice sighs, blinking her eyes rapidly a couple of times before leaning back in her seat and closing them, effectively cutting off their silent conversation. 

Camila is wrapping the cord around the headphones when she asks, “What do you think?”

“Wow, that was intense.” She needs to pretend like the last few minutes of her life haven't drastically shifted something inside her. “Whoever wrote that must be going through a lot.”

“Nah, just took a very drunk Beatrice to give the label heads what they wanted.” 

This takes her by surprise because Beatrice doesn’t drink. It was one of the first few things Ava remembers learning about her. “Oh yeah? What was it that they wanted?”

“Something a bit more commercial, I guess, relatable for a wider audience. What’s more perfect than heartbreak, am I right?”

“Right, heartbreak, definitely something we all share.” Her eyes go back to Beatrice in order to make a point, but Beatrice has pulled out her journal, busily writing. Ava knows she can hear her though. “And Beatrice was able to portray the pain so well. I could feel every emotion behind the lyrics.” She can hear the pen testily make contact with the tray table, but she won't look, won’t give Beatrice the satisfaction of telling her off, even if it’s just with her eyes. 

Ava breathes out. She needs a moment to herself and her thoughts without being next to Camila. She unbuckles her seatbelt and heads to the tiny airplane restroom. Sitting on the toilet seat, lid down, Ava breathes, in and out. In and out . You can do this Ava. You can be around Beatrice and her stupid freckles and her stupid stunted feelings and her lack of communication. You can get through these next few days without either pulling a knife on her or shoving her against a do—…Nope. Not going there.

Coming back to the present, Ava shakes her head and steels herself. Exiting the bathroom, Ava all but bodily slams into Alice, waiting for her by the toilet door. 

Grabbing Ava’s arm, Alice tugs her close and hisses out a low whisper into Ava’s ear, “I saw your face in the cab. You do not owe them anything. You are already doing far too much with this MV. Do not do anything rash. So help you god, Emilia will have your head.”

— 

They all scrabble out of the rental van, each grabbing a backpack and various bags full of last minute necessities for the long day ahead. The film day will stretch until the very last bit of daylight is left. Ava can already see that everyone is at exhaustion level, but she knows that they will push through because this is what their work requires of them.

The immense rugged gorge that wraps around under a vast green canopy is the first thing that grabs her attention. She passes her hand lazily along the eroded and coarse shale walls that fully encompass them as they begin their trek towards the first filming location. It’s only seven in the morning at this point with the first signs of sunlight slowly trickling through the leaves above them.

A river runs below them, deviating from a massive waterfall several kilometers behind them. According to Levy there’s a plan for them to swim at the base of the waterfall tomorrow morning, but they have to canoe there first. Today they will focus on the more extensive trails and on the friendly nature of the video with her and the band bonding together.

They meet the rest of the crew a few minutes later, who have equipment draped around them like some kind of comical parody of what to expect in a film set, except this is entirely real. They’ve scouted ahead already and have planned for the upcoming shots. Their direction is simple enough, stay within the camera’s line of sight and have fun, the camera being a person who is holding an extensive contraption, which allows for movement and balance. 

The filming has already begun in a way, with Alice and Levy walking behind the crew and she and the band walking ahead.

Levy is not having fun. He’s already sweating. And also smacking the side of his calf every few minutes. He’s refusing to put insect repellent on because it ‘stinks’ so that’s entirely his fault. “If you say to put that damn spray on one more time I’m going to scream for so long and at such a high frequency that I will alert the wolf population around us.” He’s talking to Alice, who is wiggling the bottle in front of his face, threatening to spray.

Ava is happy with the clothing they’re all wearing because they’re at least cool and comfortable, which is saying a lot because she’s never been this comfy during a shoot before. She’s wearing elastic turquoise shorts with a matching blue sweater snapback combo, and hiking boots. The rest of the girls also have a colour scheme happening with Lilith wearing red, Camila pink, Mary grey, Yasmine yellow, but her favourite is Beatrice’s, who is wearing an olive green hoodie, blue shorts and an adorable orange snapback. 

Beatrice has a DSLR around her neck, and is stopping every so often to take pictures of their surroundings. Her hair is down now and Ava has realised that it’s no longer black, well, the top is, but the cascading waves now have an ombre kind of blonde highlight to them. And she’s struggling to look away from just how pretty the light is making her out to look. 

Lilith is walking next to her as they continue down the trail, they’re speaking amicably to one another, trying desperately to find some common ground. At some point the muddy ground underneath her shifts, and she actually slips from beside Lilith, butt landing in the dirt. Lilith doesn’t move though, only looking back between the crew and the band questioning what she should do. 

It’s Beatrice who steps closer to them, extending a hand out for Ava to take. She grasps her hand and Beatrice hauls her up. Ava swats her butt a couple of times to remove the caked on dirt, before thanking Beatrice who just goes back to where she was with the camera, busily taking pictures. 

They do a few shots where they’re all sitting on rocks enjoying the scenery.

Camila drinks from her bottle before saying, “Okay, but this place is beautiful!”

“Apparently, its date goes back to 538.8 million years ago, where basically the only life on Earth was plant life that probably looked like coral.” Yasmine’s insights begin to paint a picture of their surroundings. And just how old and grand everything is.

Lilith speaks from beside her, “Did you look this up before coming, you nerd?”

“I like to be informed, unlike you, Lilith.”

“Ouch. Your hug hurts,” Lilith says sarcastically. 

Ava knows they’re probably bantering, but Lilith is difficult to connect with. There’s always an offhanded comment or a rude retort about something that rubs Ava the wrong way and it has only been a couple of hours since they began. She’s doing her best to appear like she’s ‘falling in love’, but she’s sure she’s not selling it and Lilith is not putting in any kind of work from what she can see.

Her eyes go to Beatrice, because of course they do. She can't help herself. Beatrice is always doing something cute whenever she looks. She’s caught her taking pictures of mushrooms, birds, rocks and even a few shots of Ava herself. And Ava isn’t even sure if she’s meant to have noticed her doing that or not. She is having to physically fight her body to not gravitate towards Beatrice. 

“Ava, Lilith a word, please.” They both stand and follow Alice to where the crew and Levy are. 

They’re playing back some of the footage, there’s no sound, just of them walking around the grounds laughing and having a good time. They’ve captured the moment she slips and Ava can see Beatrice actually rush to her in a panic, something she had missed, too busy realising that her love interest didn’t as much as look in her direction when she fell. Her heart thunders inside her chest and Alice realises because she gives her a sympathetic look.

Levy is not amused, he’s going back and forth between the takes. “Are you guys going to actually try to make it seem like there’s something there? Because we’re getting nothing right now. You two might as well be lifelong enemies.” 

The crew members nod in agreement. Everyone seems to be coming to the same conclusion Ava has. She and Lilith have zero chemistry. If anything she wants to wring Lilith’s neck, not hold her close. And she can’t imagine having to do this for the rest of the week. It would actually be painful.

“What if we did some shots alone?” Lilith says, her voice is a bit irritated but her eagerness to make it work shines through.

They all agree and both of them walk through the trail looking at one another while interacting and Ava knows it’s not coming through because every time she looks at Lilith she cringes and then looks back to the band, in search of Beatrice, who is apparently trying very hard not to look at them.

The shots play in front of them again and this time Levy and Alice both sigh, coming to terms with the problem. 

Alice is looking towards the rest of the band, considering their options. “What about Camila?”

Levy brings a finger to his lips, head going from side to side. “Camila…” He’s thinking about it. “CAMILA!” Alice jumps at this, not used to his cadence.

Camila stands, rushing to them. “YEAH?”

Levy seems hesitant about what he’s about to ask, but nods more for himself than anything else. “What do you think about the romance happening between you and Ava instead?”

Ava wants to laugh because it’s so ridiculous. 

“YES! YES! I’ll do it!” When Camila replies, Levy and Alice both visibly recoil.

“No. Nope. Nevermind, she’s too eager, we might end up with Ava in the emergency room.” Levy pushes Camila back in the direction she came.

The crew members keep reversing the footage back to where she slips and Beatrice comes to her aid. “What about Beatrice?” One of them speaks up. “There’s actually a lot of footage of them already looking at each other and the chemistry seems to be natural.”

Oh boy did they hit the nail on the head with that one.

“No.” It’s Alice who replies, her head already shaking.

“It could work. It’s Beatrice’s song so she might be able to understand the emotion a bit better.” Levy is looking between them now, something forming in his head. “She didn’t want to be part of it to that extent but maybe we can speak to her about it.”

Ava’s mind attaches itself to what Levy has just revealed, adding fuel to the literal fire that began on the flight here. Beatrice was avoiding being the focus of the narrative on purpose, Ava had just assumed the label wanted to push Lilith as well given her popularity as the lead guitarist. 

Alice is grabbing and pulling her aside, she can see Levy already walking in the direction of Beatrice. “You can’t do this. Tell Levy that you’ll try again with Lilith.”

Ava knows that Alice is only meaning to protect her, even if it means protecting her from herself, but honestly, deep down they both know that this is probably the only way forward. “Alice, it’s alright. I can do this. It’s already there if you look close enough.”

“I understand that, but you need to mitigate the potential damage. You know where the music video is going, you know what the both of you will have to do.” 

They’ll have to pretend to be in love. But luckily for them it’s not pretending, it’s more like living a beautiful nightmare at this point. Beatrice is watching the previous recordings and listening to the crew and Levy. Her shoulders drop in quiet resignation. Like, she knew this would happen. 

“Be careful, Ava.” Alice gives her a look before she walks back to the crew.

She joins them seconds later. Levy is already giving instructions about shots and the crew begins prepping the camera and equipment for filming. 

Beatrice is beside her, eyes downcast, but there’s a small smile on her lips, “It’s okay with me if it’s okay with you.” And she nods because this is Beatrice, and she would do anything for her. For them. She just wishes Beatrice was talking about their actual relationship instead.

They go through the same shots as Lilith and this time there aren’t any interruptions from the crew. They walk along the path and Beatrice extends her hand for Ava to take, helping her maneuver the environment. And it’s silly, but her thoughts go to that night in the theater and all the back and forth in her head, where she debated whether to hold Beatrice’s hand, not as a friend running from the press, but as Ava. Ava who had fallen in love with Beatrice.

(*)

I'm suffering from you like the seasonal flu

Without fail, without exception

How can I laugh, how can I forget you

When even breathing is a struggle right now

I won't ask for anything

Just be by my side as if nothing has changed

She tugs down on Beatrice’s cap as they walk down the path, earning a smile. They jump hand in hand from rock to rock as the band runs past them. It’s as if they’re living in their own little bubble. 

At some point she grabs Beatrice’s camera from her, taking shots of her own as the afternoon continues around them. She turns the DSLR and angles it in front of them, capturing a few silly pictures of them together. When Beatrice walks ahead, she looks through the images. There's one where she’s looking at the camera, but Beatrice is looking at her. It’s dewy and tender, and not meant for the camera that is still filming them. She pulls out her phone, quickly taking a picture of the display.

You are my yesterday, today, and tomorrow

Just like the sunlight of my memories, like a star that guards the night

You seek me out everyday

You're like my Spring and Summer, Autumn, Winter

It's like you slipped away between the seasons and left me

Without a trace, heading far away

“Beatrice!” Levy is yelling again, “Piggyback! Give Ava a piggyback.”

Alice rolls her eyes beside him, but stays quiet.

Beatrice is already half kneeling and waiting for her by the time she looks back in her direction. She gets on without protest and Beatrice takes her weight comfortably, adjusting her a couple of times before they’re off again. 

“Don’t hurt your calf this time.” Beatrice chuckles underneath her, tightening her arms around Ava’s thighs.

Ava opens her arms and as Beatrice continues to head down the path, she wraps them around Beatrice’s neck some time later, nose dropping down into the little crook she loves and breathes in the spot. She feels a tear welling up in her eyes and a lump burning in her throat because it smells so much like Beatrice that she needs a moment to process everything from the lavender perfume to the faint smell of sweat.

Will the winds that blow between us

Connect us even as time goes by

I won't ask for anything

Just be by my side as if nothing has changed

The band members are now getting shots of their own as she and Beatrice sit quietly by some rocks on the side of the trail. 

Camila is precariously going to a fallen log that spans between a drop and two paths, she knows Alice’s danger senses are tingling, but hilariously not Levy’s. Mary is holding Camila’s hand as she lowers herself onto the log and then proceeds to hug it. Beatrice laughs from beside her, already turning the camera towards Camila and taking a picture. 

They begin to eat through their lunch of sandwiches, watching Mary throwing rocks for some reason, all while looking stoic and moody. Yasmine sprawls herself in the tall grass nearby but it doesn’t last long because she starts running away the moment Levy warns against snakes. Both she and Beatrice follow quickly behind in a fit of laughter mixed with fear, mouths full of food. 

Lilith accidentally runs into poison ivy, or something that has definitely irritated her skin because her thighs are blotchy red and she can’t stop scratching. 

Levy is on his knees in front of her applying cream to her legs when Beatrice begins snapping pictures again, “The little shit probably deserves it.”

“Please send me those. I would like to futureproof with Lilith blackmail.”

“Of course.”

And the promise of having any kind of communication with Beatrice makes her mind reel with the possibility that they may in fact survive this. 

My heart which almost empties, begins to fill with you

It's shaking my heart

The more it hurts, the more I want you

It’s some time later that Beatrice starts to suddenly bounce on one foot beside her. She seems to be in pain and looking for a place to balance. And who is Ava if not completely in tune with everything Beatrice needs. Her left arm goes around Beatrice’s waist so quickly that she overcorrects, almost sending them sliding down the muddy path, but Ava grabs Beatrice’s right arm draping it across her shoulder, holding it in place with her free hand, stabilising them.

Beatrice pulls the boot off her right foot while balancing on her left. She shakes the boot a couple of times and a small rock tumbles out without much fanfare.

“Are you hurt?” She doesn’t mean it to come out with so much concern but it does, and honestly why bother at this point, they’ve both blurred lines already. She leans down hand coming to run along Beatrice’s socked foot just in case there’s anything still lingering on there. She doesn’t realise just how intimate it is until she does it because she wouldn’t do this for any of the other band members or even Alice.

Beatrice breathes out lightly after her touch, “I think it cut through the sock.” 

She nods, helping Beatrice down softly onto the ground before lowering herself to her knees. She pulls the sock off the foot, which is immediately followed by a small wince from Beatrice. There’s a sizeable cut by the arch of the foot, which shouldn’t be a big deal but they still have a big day ahead of them and something like this could have the potential to be painful. “One second,” She stands heading to Levy who is doing round two of Lilith ointment time. 

She’s back with a bandaid and triple antibiotic cream, and there’s no hesitation. She rubs the cut with her pointer finger, which has way too much ointment for the cut to ointment ratio, before applying the bandaid. “Sana, sana, colita de rana. Si no sanas hoy, sanarás mañana.”

Beatrice is looking at her with so much affection and confusion, that it forces her to back away from how close she has gotten. “Did you just call me a frog?”

She giggles, cheeks feeling a lot hotter than before. “It’s like an old maid saying for when kids get hurt. Usually the parents say that so they feel better.”

“You said frog though.”

“I said ‘Heal, heal, little frog tail. If you don't heal today, you'll heal tomorrow’.” Beatrice is watching her curiously, which makes her bold. “It’s usually followed by a kiss on the spot, for its healing qualities.”

“Its healing qualities,” Beatrice repeats dumbly, gaze falling on her foot. It isn’t a no per se. So she leans back in and kisses Beatrice’s cheek while she’s distracted. 

They both startle as they hear Alice yell out a shrill ‘NO!’

You are my eyes, voice and breath

I can't live a single day without you

I'll still keep calling for you

While the long Spring and Summer, Autumn, Winter passes

As much as the time and wind fly by

I'll miss you, regardless of the distance

—

The sun comes down faster than expected and Beatrice is kind of glad because she is exhausted in every sense of the word. Not only has the day been long, but she’s emotionally depleted and starving. Everyone except the crew is sitting around her in differing coping stages of fatigue. The food they’ve just ordered will take a few minutes to arrive and she doesn’t know whether this is it for her and if she will keel over dead at any moment, or whether, maybe just maybe , her stomach will take mercy on her and cope with the neglect. 

They’ve all somehow squeezed in one booth at the diner, Levy is sitting next to the window, then it’s her, Yasmine, and Mary and across from them by the window is Alice, Ava, Camila and Lilith.

Ava’s short hair is loose around her shoulders, stringy from sweat and the overall grime of the day, but she still manages to look alluring, to the point that she needs to remind herself to look away every so often. 

They’re all gathered around the table trying to solve the peg game in front of them, but their equally tired minds are having a lot more trouble than they should. Levy has given up, phone in face and when laughed at for it replied with ‘eat glass’, before tuning them out.

“Bea?”

“Mmm?”

Ava’s speaking, pushing the game towards her, “Do you want to try?”

She nods and leans in, the action mirrored by Ava as well, as they both stare at the little peg board. “I think we’re meant to only have one peg standing at the end, kind of like checkers.” She and Ava reach for the same piece, accidentally bumping hands. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry!” Ava moves the piece over a peg, “Did you want to?”

“No, it’s fine, I'm happy to watch and advise.”

Ava moves the peg again, eating another piece. “Shit, I think I messed up already.” 

Hearing Ava say this triggers a chain of thoughts through her head. She’s aware her mind has parkoured past the children’s game in front of her. 

Ava didn’t mess up, she did.

Ava has been nothing but kind and patient with her, even today, when she should be giving Beatrice the cold shoulder after everything. But she doesn’t. She’s been trying not to linger on the thought all day, because if she does the guilt will emerge again. As it did yesterday when Camila informed them that Ava was happy to do the shoot.

She had been uncaring and disrespectful these last two months. She had initially rationalised that it had been the right thing to do for the band. That pushing Ava away would give her the space she needed to think, which it had in the way. Making her decision to keep quiet even more resolute, but it didn’t mean that her actions were justified.

A relationship with Ava right now was unlikely. They’re both about to be extremely busy with schedules. They would both ask too much from each other. The resentment would make its presence known right away. She didn’t want that to happen between her and Ava. 

The space was for the best. If in the future they both wanted the same thing then maybe, just maybe, they could both make that decision together, but for now this is all Beatrice could give. 

Or so Beatrice keeps reminding herself.  

Beatrice looks through the possible moves and catches the mistake. “Why don’t you put those two back and we can start over.” She points at the hole that says one, “Leave this spot open.”

Ava does as she’s told, occasionally looking to Beatrice for approval as she moves the peg around the board.

“No, here. This one.” She’s grabbing Ava’s hand, which is holding the peg. She easily jumps and eats through three pegs in a row. It continues like this for a few minutes and Beatrice is sure Ava is messing up on purpose because this is basic checkers, but deep down inside she wants this too. Whatever this is, but nothing more. She repeats like a mantra, this is enough.

Their food arrives and the speed at which it is inhaled astounds everyone on the table. It isn’t long until their plates are cleared and everyone is leaning back nursing their food babies. 

Ava and Camila are exchanging conspiratorial looks as the Lady Gaga song plays in the background. Lilith must notice something is up because right before the chorus of the song hits she grips Camila’s hand from starting the dance. “Absolutely not!”

“Lilith!” Camila and Ava both shout in unison as the moment is ruined.

(*)

Like a poem said by a lady in red

You hear the last few words of your life

With a haunting dance, now you're both in a trance

It's time to cast your spell on the night

The chorus is coming back around though and this time Camila is ready and leaning away from Lilith. And so is Ava who is lifting one of her eyebrows in Beatrice’s direction, persuading. She lifts both of her own in reply, Ava can’t be seriously thinking of having a dance off in the middle of a diner. 

Abracadabra, amor-oo-na-na

Abracadabra, morta-oo-ga-ga

Abracadabra, abra-oo-na-na

In her tongue she said, "Death or love tonight"

Levy has tuned back into existence looking between the girls. “Do not disservice Lady Gaga in front of me.” He has his phone pointed in Ava’s direction expectantly.

(*)

When the dance segment starts Ava flexes her hands and shoulders with the beat of the song, like she’s casting a spell on Beatrice. She spins her head and short hair in place mimicking her right hand movement and then holds her stance. Levy turns the phone to Beatrice.

Abracadabra, abracadabra

She bounces her head from side to side along with the beat, pointing with her right hand then her left before both hands meet at the middle passing the spell to Camila. Levy follows the motion.

Abracadabra, abracadabra

Camila leans back, bouncing her shoulders and knees before leaning back in with both her hands swaying from side to side in front of her face. 

Feel the beat under your feet, the floor's on fire

Then, all three do the last few movements barely holding it together before giving up.

Abracadabra, abracadabra

It’s later when they’re on their way to the van that Lilith approaches her, “Mate, who even are you anymore? I can’t believe you would dance to that so freely.”

“It’s Gaga.” It’s what she replies, but what she truly means is that it’s Ava. If it made Ava happy, then she could do this for her. 

Lilith is unconvinced though, eyes wandering to Ava as she enters the vehicle. 

On the drive over she catches Camila sneakily uploading the video onto the band’s social accounts. 

Great.

—

Friday, May 2nd. Ithaca, New York

They have canoed for hours and have finally found their way to the base of the waterfalls where there’s a large swimming spot. Everyone is in various states of undress, as they wait around for the crew to set up for the upcoming shots. 

Ava is sitting leaning against a tree, hands on top of her head. Sculpted abs on full display. She seems to be resting with her snapback covering her eyes and Beatrice is trying very hard not to stare at Ava like a lascivious teenage boy beholding a woman in a bikini for the first time. 

Boobs.

Alice catches her staring, eyebrows furrowing in a scowl, which causes her to trip on a stray tree root almost falling into the waterhole. “Yeah, keep walking, lovergirl.”

She’s on high alert, she’s anticipating a kiss and it could literally happen at any moment if Ava is leading. They’re meant to kiss at some point today, but barely any direction has been given other than ‘just do whatever feels natural’, which isn’t much when every moment with Ava is kiss worthy.

It’s been like half an hour of lounging on a rock by the water waiting for natural, because Ava has just been chatting to Camila and Yasmine. And she’s not sure what to do. Does she initiate the moment or does she wait for Ava? Why is this so complicated? Why don’t they just get put on the spot and told to kiss point blank?

She sighs, sitting back, hands holding her torso up while her feet gently kick at the water. 

Ava must sense that she’s spiraling because she swims over to her and splashes up a bit of water in her direction. “Are you going to come in or are you going to just sit there channeling your inner Greek goddess?” Ava’s eyes roam her body, bouncing from several key spots, up her legs, lingering at her stomach, then following the length of her neck.

She knows Ava’s a flirt, she should have expected this but her cheeks betray her almost instantly. But she can fight fire with fire. “Or I could be a siren, luring you to your death.” Ava actually pokes out her tongue to lick her bottom lip at this. 

Ava spends a few seconds just watching her, face unreadable. There’s a quirk to her lips though, like she wants to do or say something, but doesn’t know if she should. “… and c’mon baby… ” she sings quietly, humming the rest of the melody while splashing water up again. Realisation happens instantly. Ava is teasing her with the song. “ …and c’mon baby…”  

She pushes off the rock with her arms and slides gracefully into the water. Ava’s eyes stall at her biceps for a few seconds before they meander back to meet her eyes. Beatrice takes a moment to truly see Ava from up close now and honestly, the Greek goddess comparison belongs to Ava alone. “Something on your mind?”

“Nope.” A complete lie. Ava splashes again, some droplets landing on her chest, which slowly trickle down, a movement closely followed by Ava. “Which of the lyrics is your favourite?”

Beatrice cannot even understand why she’s entertaining this, but she answers nonetheless. “ I just don't believe that you have got it in you. ”

Ava nods once, in acknowledgement, then backs up into the deeper parts of the pool, where she follows like the Earth gravitating towards the Sun. “Not the constant ‘ I don't want your body ’? With the way you repeated it throughout the song I just thought that maybe that was it.”

Both her eyebrows lift at this, “I didn’t–”

“Kind of like an addiction, right? Say it enough times and maybe the desire will vanish?”

She hates that Ava is dissecting her so perfectly; physically, mentally and emotionally. She dunks her head for a few seconds before begrudgingly emerging for air, somehow avoiding the loaded exchange.

Ava shifts her head towards the crew, “I’m nervous.”

“I am too. Why don’t we talk about what we’ve been up to? To lighten the mood.”

“You know what I’ve been up to.” She doesn’t know what exactly Ava is insinuating. It could be the schedule which she’s kept on her phone or it could be the unscheduled activity she had to look up, but that is not a discussion she wants to have now, not in this bubble, so she remains quiet, hoping Ava continues. “I watched your performance at The Brits, it was inspiring.”

“Thank you, it was a difficult decision, but seemed like the right moment though, with everything happening so quickly.”

Ava is contemplating her next words carefully, because her eyebrows furrow in a serious cute way, “I’m very proud of you, you know?”

Beatrice isn’t sure how exactly they managed to get so close to one another, she was now practically centimeters from Ava’s face. And everything just feels loaded and right. She’s reaching over with her right hand before she realises, not even checking if the crew is paying attention. 

She delicately traces over the line of Ava’s jaw and pulls, which causes Ava’s hands to rest on her stomach, bracing after the sudden movement. Ava’s eyes flutter close in anticipation and so do hers. They bump noses, but recover quickly enough, lips sliding and tugging together softly. Suppressed thoughts come bursting through all at once. Weeks of trying to forget just how warm Ava’s lips felt against hers that night. How everything just made sense…

Ava’s hands slide around Beatrice’s waist, fingers roaming to the dimples there. Beatrice’s left hand at Ava’s waist is pulling their bodies even closer. The kiss isn’t long and probably too chaste, at least above the water, but it’s enough for now. 

They break apart as the other members holler and make silly noises in their direction, probably trying to make the moment embarrassing, but as dumb as it is it was making everything much more bearable. 

“Yeeeeeeees, Descartes!” Levy yells, hands around his mouth projecting his voice.

They get the thumbs up from the crew and they both exhale with relief. 

—

Ava is starting to hate tuna sandwiches. She’s found a picnic table underneath the shade and is honestly just trying to have some semblance of peace because she can’t be that close to Beatrice while she has a bikini on. Her thoughts are impure and she will act on them if given the chance. The abs, solid. The biceps, powerful. The jaw, sharp. The legs, well, they led to places she wanted to lic–.

 “Ava.” A hand goes to her heart and a small yelp escapes her. Did she fucking say that out loud? “Mind if I join you?”

She gestures in front of her still clutching her heart, “Not-not at all.”

Mary sits, unwrapping a sandwich of her own. She takes a bite and chews and Ava does the same. They kind of just sit awkwardly for a few minutes until Mary's eyes go to her watching her curiously. “What’s the deal with you and Beatrice?”

Ava’s eyes bulge and she chokes on the stupid tuna sandwich from just how out of nowhere the question is. She coughs a few times, the bolus seemingly stuck in her esophagus. “Wha-what?”

“Don’t play dumb.” Mary quirks up an eyebrow, she does not want to be tested. “Before yesterday, I thought maybe it was just a Beatrice thing, but now I have my suspicions that it’s a you thing as well.”

Ava taps the side of her soda can trying to gauge what Mary knows. “Does Beatrice not speak to you guys?”

“No. She can be very closed off when she wants to be.”

“Oh. So we share the same frustrations.”

Mary nods, resigned, like she was expecting this. “That doesn’t surprise me.”

She can’t stop the frown that immediately mars her face. “What does that mean?”

“It means, I need you to speak to me because Beatrice won’t.” Mary scratches at something on her eyebrow, but Ava’s is sure it’s just a nervous tick. “Is there something I should know?”

“Yes.” What does she even have to lose at this point? 

“I’m listening.”

“You first.”

“Woman, what?”

“You said it didn't surprise you. Why is that?”

Mary huffs, not enthused. “It’s not my place to divulge the details, but Beatrice has been through some difficult shit in her life and she finds it hard to express herself. She shuts down as a defense mechanism. Very strong willed and bullheaded when she thinks she’s right.”

“Oh, I know… I’ve been at the receiving end of some of that.” This seems to confirm something for Mary because she’s leaning forward, like she wants to probe, but Ava is controlling the conversation now. “What sort of difficult shit?”

“Honestly, Camila knows better than I do. It involves her parents and her sexuality. A lot to unpack there, but the gist is she’s been hiding herself away for so long that it has basically become second nature. The more you repress your feelings the easier everything around you becomes.”

“Her actions betray her though.”

Mary nods, but adds, “Only with Camila, but they’ve been inseparable their whole lives so that hardly counts.” Mary’s eyes meet hers, “And you, you’re the exception. I can see that she’s different around you.”

She wants to know more, as if hearing it coming from someone close to Beatrice means it’s coming from Beatrice herself. “The exception?” 

But Mary looks away, catching on to what she wants, then changes the subject. “She’s under a lot of pressure, I’m sure you know this.”

She wants to roll her eyes, because that’s such a fucking easy thing to say, and it doesn’t excuse anything. “We’re all under a lot of pressure.” She replies, and she hopes Mary notes her annoyed tone. “It doesn’t mean you close yourself off.”

“I don’t need to know the specifics.”

This conversation was starting to bring back the anger she had so delicately put away into a box. “Fine, then what is it you want to know?”

“Your intentions.”

“Don’t you mean Beatrice’s intentions?”

“I know Beatrice’s intentions.”

“That makes one of us.”

“You’re a very difficult person to speak to.”

“I’m upset.”

“At her?”

“Yes.” 

Mary sighs, she knows something Ava doesn’t. And all she wants to do is coax it out of her, but Mary is intent on protecting Beatrice. “The whole JC thing, what’s happening there?”

“It was a catch up dinner, we were in the same city. The media likes to twist things.”

“And did they? Twist things?”

“Yes.”

“Beatrice doesn’t think that.”

Ava moves her hands around vaguely, “Clearly. Seeing as I’m here in the middle of the woods because she wrote a song about it.”

Mary laughs at that, shaking her head. “I was wondering why you were here, I thought you were a busy girl.”

“I’m here because Beatrice needs me.”

“Camila called you though, not Beatrice.” It’s like Mary knows what she wants to hear and is just waiting for Ava to spit it out. “Don’t make me pull teeth Ava, I don’t like wasting my time.”

“Everything is delayed because of me.”

“Because of your sneaking around, you mean?” Mary’s hand stretches to tap her arm, a gesture which is meant to be comforting, but it’s Mary so it just looks like she’s being reprimanded instead. “Listen, I don’t blame you for any of this. I don’t even blame Beatrice. Whatever is happening between the two of you may have delayed things, but shit happens, we do what we can to correct it, which clearly you are.”

“Thank you.” It’s something. Something she can put into her little mental box called ‘the band hates me’ so that its weight decreases. 

“So, your intentions then?”

“I think you already know the answer to that.”

—

Discarded pizza boxes line the floor of the cabin, as the music continues to play loudly in the background. It’s a wrap for the scenes in Ithaca and they’re all enjoying having nothing to do for the remainder of the day. 

Beatrice stands from the couch, making a mental note of all the litter hanging around the living room. She sighs knowing full well no one will volunteer to throw any of it away. 

She avoids Yasmine as she steps around the mess.

There’s a half finished game of Monopoly where the pieces appear to have been flung up with the board in a fit of rage. An Uno pile that Camila is using as a pillow, too busy replying to fan comments on her phone. Lilith is laying beside her, head resting against Camila’s stomach. 

Beatrice walks into the kitchen. Mary and Alice are speaking in hushed tones, while finishing the last of their fries. She opens a few cabinet drawers looking for bin liners, ears catching the words ‘tripped on a tree root’ and then both Mary and Alice laugh. She turns to look at them, but they just shift uncomfortably clearing their throats.  

When she walks back into the living room Ava is there now too, having been the last of them to shower. Ava’s hair is still slightly wet and curling at the ends. The sight of her all freshly showered and adorable in her pajamas makes Beatrice’s breath stutter, her eyes blinking rapidly in an effort to centre herself and her thoughts. 

Ava’s eyes go to Beatrice’s hands, where she’s pulling the bin liner apart. 

“Need some help?” 

Beatrice doesn’t even really have to nod because Ava is already gathering the empty pizza boxes and stacking them in a neat pile. They go around the room collecting bottles, wrappers, and tissues for a few minutes, working efficiently and in unison. She knows Ava is doing this for her, in an effort to make her feel more at ease and comfortable. After all, she had seen the state of her hotel room at Claridges. 

After discarding the full bin bag outside, Beatrice walks back into the kitchen. This time Levy is there applying a face mask.

“Remember to put your facemask on! If I see another dry and cracked face within my vicinity I’m going to start untuning the instruments.”

“You know that’s not really a threat, they untune themselves all the time.”

“Well, I’ll do something!” He hustles out of the room, but not before turning around and insisting, “FACEMASKS!” He looked like Jim Carrey in ‘The Mask’ with avocado goo all over his face. 

She reenters the living room to find it has been organised, the games have been put away, the band members are off the floor and seated on the long couch and Yasmine is behind the TV messing with cables.

Camila waves lazily in her direction, “Bea! Come watch, we're going to play Overcooked.”

The four remotes are passed along to Lilith and Camila and Mary and Yasmine. 

There’s an empty spot next to Ava, which she takes. Alice’s eyes track her for a moment, but then go back to the TV as the game's title screen comes on. 

They’re about to go through the menu when Ava speaks up, “What about Beatrice?”

“What about her?” Lilith replies a little huffily.

“Why doesn’t she get to play?” Ava sounds defensive, like the injustice extends to her as well.

“Beatrice isn’t allowed to play.” Mary replies, while going through the character selection.

“What? Why?”

It’s quiet for a moment, then Camila speaks, attempting to be somewhat delicate about it. “She…can be…intense.”

“Intense?”

“Strongly committed.” Yasmine adds.

“Passionate.” Camila nods along.

Alice is somewhat snickering from behind Ava. “Oh…she's a party pooper.”

Lilith joins in with Alice. “She’s made all of us cry at least once, it's not pretty. Gordon Ramsay takes over her soul.”

“Bea, is this true?” 

She nods, it wasn't a lie. She does get overly heated and militant during this game. 

The room is quiet apart from the music in the background as the other members choose their character.

Ava nudges her side gently, “I’ll play with you.”

“You don’t have to. I know I can get a little ahead of myself.”

“No, I want to. I want to play with you.”

Ava, stop. She needs Ava to stop being so Ava.

“Well, this I gotta see then.” Mary tosses the remote over to Ava and Yasmine mimics the action, passing hers to Beatrice.

Ava has chosen the pink octopus and Beatrice the robot.

After a few minutes of explaining the game rules to Ava and playing through a few warm up stages, the fun begins to dissipate. The shouting begins halfway through the round when the orders begin to fail and pile on. 

Camila and Lilith are sitting on the floor communicating smoothly between one another. Lilith asks for rice, Camila puts it to steam. Camila needs chopped fish and seaweed, Lilith rushes to grab them for her. 

On the other hand she and Ava are on the edge of their seats slowly getting through as many orders as they can, but Ava is not keeping up with the demand and her brain is getting a little agitated. It’s a simple, just do things in order kind of game and prep when you have time, but Ava just does things as they come and there’s a mess in what should be her work area, with uncooked food thrown all around every possible surface.

(*)

She can’t find the damn seaweed. The pink octopus is stuck on the conveyor belt. “Ava! Ava you need to get the rice! It’s going to burn! HURRY!”

“I’m trying!”

“Press the dash!” Beep! BEEEP!! BBEEEP BEEEP BEEEEEP! “Get the extinguisher!”

The pink octopus rushes to the extinguisher but in the madness just begins to spin in place. 

“You need to set the food you're holding down!”

“I’M TRYING! There’s nowhere to set it down!”

“If you were more organised then maybe you’d have some counter space!”

The robot joins where the pink octopus is, grabbing every food item and tossing it aside to reach for the extinguisher. But it’s too late. The fire is spreading to the other pots and dishes, ruining all their work.

Lilith and Camila start to laugh, spinning their characters in place as the chaos unfolds on the screen, fully committed to the bit of annoying Beatrice.

“HEEEEEEEEELP! Help!” Camila shouts. 

The failed stage title comes up and the room bursts into laughter.

“WHAT ARE YOU!?” Lilith and Camila shout in unison.

“AN IDIOT SANDWICH!” Yasmine, Mary and Alice reply.

Beatrice knows they’re all waiting for her to blow up because things like this just get under her skin. She’s determined not to give them the satisfaction. She can and will keep cool. She grabs Ava’s hand and walks her to the kitchen, breathing deeply the whole way. “Okay. That was a dismal round but we’ve got this. We have to focus! We can do this. I need you to listen to me.” 

Ava nods eagerly.

“This is unacceptable, you have to stay prepping. Stay on your side. I’m working on steaming the rice and cleaning the dishes, you need to work on cutting the cucumbers and the salmon for the sushi rolls and pre-plating the seaweeds on the plates.”

“Yes, chef!”

“And pay attention, some are cucumber rolls, some are salmon rolls, we can’t keep messing up these orders, that’s how we lose money.”

“Yes, chef!”

“You need to keep your work area clean in case there’s a fire and one of us needs to grab the extinguisher.”

“Yes, chef!” At this Ava wiggles her eyebrows. 

They can do this. She’ll show them. Ava and her are the perfect team.  

They walk back into the living room and find that everyone is looking at them with amusement. Beatrice suspects that they probably think she blew up on Ava, but all she wants is for Ava to succeed and from Ava’s reaction she wants that as well.

Ava’s hand meets her left buttcheek, “LET’S FUCKING DO THIS!” Then, she sits in front of the TV, patting the spot next to her.

Beatrice sits, focus mode activated. “Let’s freaking do this!”

This time around, the pink octopus keeps to the top of the screen away from the conveyor belt. They go through various orders perfectly with plenty of pre-cut cucumbers and salmon around for the robot to grab and plate and send the orders through. The rice doesn’t burn. The food doesn’t gather on the counters. They communicate well.  

Ava is attentive and has even started to anticipate what items Beatrice will need before she needs them. They’re halfway through the stage in no time, and she can hear shouting from behind as Lilith and Camila begin to scramble with some of their orders, as she sneaks a glance to their side of the screen. 

(*)

I'm sorry if I push your good away

Especially when I'm needin' you to stay

I know you hate that I still test your love

I'm tryin' not to fuck this up

They clear the stage with a perfect score. Three stars all around. Her focus subsides and she can finally tune into the room again. Carly Rae Jepsen is blasting through the speakers as everyone jumps up to celebrate their win, the song wasn’t just in her head.

But the benefit of all the broken hearts

That I broke before they could break me

Is a little bit of life regrets

I won't bring that mess to you when you're with me

And I wanna be brave enough to show you my not-so-perfect family

And I wanna be brave enough for everything

Beatrice throws the remote to the side, tackling Ava onto the floor before she can even think about what she’s doing, but it’s okay because Ava returns the hug just as tightly, all while giggling. And they’re both smiling widely, relishing their win. Arms stroke up and down her back a couple of times before they wrap around her again. And she wants to stay in this spot for as long as she can, breathing Ava in and feeling just how warm and snuggly she is. Feeling just how right this all feels, wrapped around Ava .

Surrender my heart

(I'm out here in the open)

I wanna get closer

(I'll believe in you every night)

Surrender my heart

I wanna be open, I wanna be honest with you

“WHY ARE YOU ALL SHOUTING!” Levy charges into the room, a blanket around his shoulders and everyone freezes in place. “May I remind everyone that it’s 12 AM and we all have a flight in 5 hours!”

Alice’s foot pushes against her ass, effectively shoving her off Ava, “You heard the hot mess.”

She scrambles up to her feet then extends her hand for Ava to take, helping her up.

Mary and Yasmine have disappeared with a wave into one of the many bedrooms, Alice going upstairs to read a book and unwind, leaving Lilith and Camila on the couch along with her and Ava. They’ve all been chatting for what seems like hours, but she can sense that everyone is on the verge of sleep because the conversations are dragging and starting to not make sense.

Alice has come down the stairs again, she looks sleepy, but determined. “Ava, you need to at least get a few hours of sleep, why don’t you come upstairs?”

Ava’s face pinches, “I’ll be fine. I can sleep on the plane.”

Beatrice looks between them, they appear to be having a silent conversation with their eyes. Alice’s are intense and little bloodshot and Ava’s are persistent and definitely tired.

“Remember I have that rash on my back that I can’t reach?” Ava looks even more confused than she is. “I need the ointment for it. And I need you to apply it for me.”

“What ointment?”

“THE ointment.”

“Do you two have like bed chem or something?” Lilith queries from beside Camila.

Alice and Ava both glare in Lilith’s direction.

Camila who has begun to snuggle into the couch lifts her butt and says, “Have you ever tried this one?”

Ava snorts.

Alice sighs before going back upstairs.

They all stay in the living room slowly coming to terms that they can’t continue to fight the exhaustion taking over their bodies. She’s sure Lilith and Camila have long fallen asleep. Ava appears to be succumbing as well, leaning to her right and facing Beatrice, legs lazily on the chaise lounge. 

She grabs the blanket nearby and spreads it between the two of them, slowly lowering herself to a comfortable sleeping position. Her eyes droop and linger on Ava’s serene sleeping face, one final thought goes through her mind. This is the happiest she’s felt in months. This feels right .

And finally at peace she gives into sleep.

I used to soldier through my hardest days

I used to switch it off, ignore the pain

I craved to feel it all entirely

In your arms, baby

Chapter Text

Saturday, May 3rd. New York City

“Don’t let go!” Ava shrieked as the wheels at the front of the skateboard bounced up sending her backwards.

Beatrice held her by both her hands, standing absolutely still, both feet planted firmly on the concrete floor below them. “I’m not going to let you go, I promise!” Ava’s hands were clammy from both the afternoon heat and fear of being on top of the board, but that was not going to keep Beatrice from keeping her word.

They began to shoot the rest of the video straight out of the airport. With both of them just having time for a quick change of clothing, something more practical for the weather in New York City. She had on a red linen stripe shirt that fell loosely on her torso and denim shorts. Ava wore the same colour Corduroy overalls that cut off mid thigh with a loose cotton white t-shirt. And their hiking boots were replaced with comfortable black Chucks.

Levy and Alice stood around watching them from across the street where the crew all gathered. They were now shooting the portion of the music video that involved the couple spending time with one another and showing that the relationship had turned serious.

They had already shot several scenes earlier in the morning going through a farmers market, where they interacted with the different popup shops and ate biscuits and brownies. And also having a picnic in Central Park, where Ava had rushed to every dog on their morning walk for some head scratches. 

She had filmed a few scenes skating down a street with a different set of clothing. The post-breakup clothing was more moody, representing the inner sadness of the character, but Beatrice couldn’t even manage to pull off sadness with Ava nearby. Every time she tried to appear like a tortured soul Ava would make a silly face, instantly ruining the shot for her. And it must have happened enough times because Alice had to literally grab her by the ear like a child and drag her away.

And now, they were pretty much wrapping up whatever this was with the skateboard, which wasn’t originally part of the story, but Ava got curious looking at Beatrice do it so flawlessly which made her want to try it herself.

“Just put your left foot forward.” She indicated with her foot, tapping the top of the deck, “Here.”

Ava did as instructed, wiggling a little in place, eyes intensely on Beatrice out of fear of looking down. “You say that like it's the easiest thing to do.”

“No, I know it’s not easy, but you have to do it if you want to learn.” She was pulling Ava now, slowly and carefully, ‘You have to trust me, I won’t let go.”

“I do!” The board shifted forward suddenly, Ava gripped her hands even tighter. A pain shot through her left hand, but she bit down, muffling whatever yelp was about to come out. “I trust you.”

(*)

And I never

Saw you coming

And I'll never

Be the same

She stopped moving, coming to Ava’s side, “Okay, flex your knees and find your center.”

“Okay.”

“Balanced?”

“I think so.”

“I’m going to push you forward.”

“WHAT!”

She walked behind Ava, hands coming to her waist. “Stay balanced!”

Ava nodded, adjusting her feet more firmly on the board.

“One…two…thre–”

“WAIT!” The hands around Ava’s waist freeze instantly. Ava’s eyes bore into hers, “You’ll catch me if I fall, right?”

“You’re not going to fall.”

“How can you possibly know that!”

“One…two…”

“Oh my God!”

“Three!” She pushed slightly with enough force for Ava to cover a meter or two of the street. Ava flexed her knees, and by some miracle was still on the board as it came to a stop. “You did it!” she rushed forward grabbing a hold of Ava’s waist again.

It wasn’t long until the arms settled around her neck and Ava bounced off the board. “I did it!” Ava slid down, feet landing on the floor, then they disentangled and Beatrice leaned down to pick up the skateboard.

“We need you guys to change for the next shot.” Levy yelled, their post-breakup clothing already thrown around his body, like a helpless mannequin.

The instructions were clear, they would walk on opposite sides of the streets going about their lives. The camera was situated in the middle of the street and was being pulled by a dolly backwards. The shot was supposed to represent them no longer being part of each other's lives, and seemingly moved on without sparing each other a glance. They shot it a few times, with neither looking towards each other, but something didn’t sit right with Beatrice.

After the scene was finished, they looked through. The thought of not having Ava look in her direction kept circling in her mind. That after everything, not being part of each other's lives was unnerving. It was close enough to correlate to their current predicament and she didn’t want that out there in the universe, even if it was fake.

“What if they looked at each other?” it was Ava who spoke up though, clearly feeling as agitated as she did.

Alice chanced a glance between them before running a hand across her forehead. “I thought the whole point of the end was that they both moved on.” By now she knew Alice well enough to know the sentence was loaded with inference to her and Ava.

It was what Beatrice had originally wanted for the ending of the music video, but that deliberation now seemed rushed and poorly thought out. Like many things recently, it seemed. “We can change it.”

You come around and the armor falls

Pierce the room like a cannonball

Now all we know is don't let go

Ava smiled, already grabbing ahold of her hand and leading them back to their places for a reshoot. This time, as the camera pulled backwards, at the very last second both of them looked in the direction of one another, leaving the ending of the video ambiguous. 

They’ve stopped for lunch at a Vietnamese restaurant. Levy and Alice are across from her and Ava. Everyone's mouths are full of noodles and there has barely been any time for conversation. They’ve all ordered beef pho and a few side dishes to hold them over until the end of the shoot tonight. 

She’s finding it increasingly difficult not to be endeared by Ava’s chipmunk cheeks and the stray noodle poking out of her lips. “Biiifff iifff sooofff goood!” Ava says mouth full but with such delight that she has to look away.

Levy looks in Ava’s direction, giving her a squeamish look before setting his eyes on Beatrice. “We need to do the last fittings tomorrow and coordinate the thing.”

“Waff fffing?”

“Ava, I am not your assistant. As much as you would like to continue to burden me with your petty requests, I am unfortunately all booked out after today.”

“It has honestly been so nice having you around, Levy.” Alice retorted, in a teasing tone. “I can honestly say it’s been a blessing not having to cater to Ava’s every whim.”

“Yeah, well, I’m spent and no longer wish to be at the mercy of that fiend over there.” Levy recoiled as Beatrice kicked him underneath the table.

Ava turned from her bowl, cheeks still full of food. “Heeeeyffff!”

“Will you guys be just as busy tomorrow?” She’s asking more for conversation than anything else. She’s had Ava’s schedule on her phone for months. She knows Ava will be doing her final fitting tomorrow with Iris Van Herpen before they all make their Met Gala appearance Monday afternoon, on fashion’s biggest night.

The Met Gala boasts the world’s biggest stars and models. It is an extremely sought after event. Usually, only people who are deemed culturally relevant to contemporary society are invited. Robert Wun was their benefactor and Iris Van Herpen was Ava’s. It’s an annual event held on the first Monday in May, marking the opening of the Costume’s Institute yearly fashion exhibit. This year's theme for the attire was ‘Edacity’, and its excessive desire for wealth, power and possession. The band had interpreted the theme differently though. Focusing on over-consumption and its detrimental nature all around them, a sentiment shared by their designer. 

It’s Alice who answers, “We’re doing some interviews in the morning and in the afternoon doing the final fitting.” She bites into a chicken skewer and continues, “There’s also like a get ready with me kinda thing happening with Vogue, which will be frustrating to maneuver, but I’m hoping I can scare off the junior reporter before they get too comfortable.”

“What about you guys?” Ava is looking at her expectantly. 

Levy answers though, “I’m already dreading it, it’s going to be a whole day affair with them. I don’t know how I signed up to assist five people!” Alice and him glance at the final skewer before shoving each other for it momentarily. Levy loses. He huffs in place regaining his composure and continues, “I’ll be surprised if one of them doesn’t murder a seamstress.” He glares in Alice’s direction, threateningly. 

Alice bites into the skewer mischievously before asking, “Will this be your first time going, Levy?”

He answers, the same glare adorning his features, “First and probably last,” which is then shifted to Beatrice in the same threatening manner.

She kicks him under the table again. “Levy! Why don’t you eat your pho!?”

His scowl deepens further as he lowers himself to rub the injured leg. “I’m feeling very persecuted right now! I’ll eat my pho and mourn what you will all take from me soon enough. I will soon be banished from the Met Gala forevermore.”

She shifts to face Ava and Alice, “Ignore him, he’s being a drama queen.” Then, pushes the bowl closer to him testily. 

“I prefer Primadonna.”

(*)

“ Primadonna giiiiiirl, yeaaaah! ” Ava sang to Levy who stuck out his tongue. “ All I ever wanted was the world, I can’t help that I need it all—”

“ The primadonna life, the rise and faaaaaaaall. ” Alice joined, poking at his shoulders.

He rolled his eyes and acquiesced, but couldn’t help but join in as well, “ You say that I’m kinda difficult— ”

“You are!” Beatrice points in his direction.

“But it’s always someone else’s fault!” He retorts indignantly, pointing back at Beatrice.

Something catches Ava’s eyes though because her hands reach for Beatrice’s left hand, alarmed. Ava is running her fingers across the top of her hand, where Beatrice had previously applied makeup. An angry purple bruise is revealing itself to everyone at the table with each rub. “What—“ the words die in Ava’s mouth, she must have realised. “The taxi?”

Beatrice nods. The bruise had been easy to ignore the day after since it was green and slowly spreading across the top of her hand, but today it was a deep purple, running along the length of her hand and into her fingers. She had been applying makeup throughout the day in the hopes that it wouldn’t come through in the music video. 

“Yeah, that probably needs a retouch once we go back to the shoot,” Levy says, while looking through his satchel. “I thought maybe I had something here.” 

“You knew?” Ava sounds upset, with a cadence that Beatrice now recognises as Ava’s protective tone. Her eyebrows have drawn down and she’s looking at the bruise again. She continues to rub at it as if it would magically disappear. Her eyes go from Levy to Beatrice, and Beatrice knows the table’s mood has shifted instantly because Alice is anxiously looking between Levy, Ava and her. “Why didn’t you have this looked at? We’ve had time.” Ava is looking at her as if it’s just the two of them at the table.

“It’s fine, it’ll just take a few days to clear up.” She’s hoping this is enough for Ava to release her hand and control her emotions in front of Levy. 

“It’s not fine, look at your bruise, Beatrice.” Both their eyes look down in sync, the bruise somehow growing bigger and more purple in front of them.

“I–nothing’s broken. It…it just hurts.”

Ava is pulling Beatrice’s hand even closer now, she seems to want to do something, but thinks better of it, face retracting slightly away from the hand.  “You shouldn’t have done that.” 

“What? Kept you from hitting your head?”

“Yes.” Ava breathes out, eyes going to Levy accusingly, “Has she been taking pain medication?”

Levy lifts his brows unsure if he should make a run for it, or not. “I asked this morning, but she refused. She’s very hard headed.”

She somehow couldn’t tear her eyes from Ava’s, which were now looking at her with concern, “Beatrice.” 

There’s something in the way that Ava had just said her name that makes her squirm instantly. Like, she’s messed up. “Medication would have just made me drowsy. I needed to think about the video.”

Ava extended her free hand to Alice, who without any kind of communication grabbed her backpack and procured two pills from a small, clearly labeled medication box. Ava grabbed the pills and deposited them in Beatrice’s right hand before saying, “Nom nom.” And after one fiery look, the pills were swallowed.

“Don’t say nom nom to Beatrice in that context or any other context in the future.” Levy was staring, hard. “Preferably never again in front of me.”

These are the hands of fate

You're my Achilles’ heel

This is the golden age of something good and right and real

As night descended upon New York City and the afternoon rain cleared, the street lights slowly came on reflecting against the rain puddles gathered on the street. They had switched to their ‘breakup date outfits’ which were meant to be more of an Autumn vibe. Ava wore a plaid skirt with a white sweater, and a navy coat. Meanwhile, she wore black pants with a cream turtleneck, and a beige houndstooth jacket.

The crew plus Levy and Alice stood outside the restaurant, cameras ready to take the shot of them angrily leaving through the front door. Ava went first pushing the door into her, and she followed eyes downcast. It only took one take for the door scene. Ava was apparently very good at situational acting, unlike her, but she kept her face down and pretended to be some kind of sad. 

 They were meant to walk to the nearby alley where they would film an argument between the couple. This was the part of the music video that concerned her. It would be the first time that both of them would hear the song together. Up to this point they had shot all the scenes without the music. 

The first verse of the song began to play as she joined Ava in the alley.

She was not the kind of person to hate the sound of her own voice, but right now it was giving her secondhand embarrassment. The lyrics were suddenly unpleasant and cringy in front of Ava. Who was looking at her sadly, the song clearly having an affect on her. 

Every time I start to believe in anything you're saying

I'm reminded that I should be gettin' over it

“Ready whenever you guys are,” The director spoke from beside the camera operator.

Looking off camera, Ava tensed her shoulders and swung back to face her, tears already welling up in her eyes. “Why can’t you just trust me?” Ava uttered brokenly. “Nothing happened between us. We just ran into each other on the 7 train the other day and got to talking. I didn’t even think about it later. That’s why I didn’t mention it to you.”

“Right. You conveniently forgot to mention that you ran into your ex, the one you almost married, the one that got away. I saw the way you looked at each other just now.”

Good. They were going through their lines perfectly. Just a few more seconds of seeing Ava like this and then it’ll all be over. They can go back to not listening to this song, preferably never again. To not have to relive this weird breakup they’ve conjured for the music video. Because as much as she wanted to say that it wasn’t affecting her, it was. It was getting too close to being an argument she’s had in her head for weeks now, which she’s stowed far in the hopes it went away, much like the angry green monster that sometimes bubbled inside her.

“I am with YOU. Don’t you trust me? Why is it your default to always mistrust me? You’re twisting the truth to fit into some illusion in your head. Why is your self worth so low that you think I would cheat on you?” Ava went off script on the last sentence.

What the fuck was that? That wasn’t part of their script. They were meant to just keep going with the whole cheating thing until Ava walked away.

“My–my self worth?” Her eyes skimmed Ava’s back and forth for any kind of explanation.

“Are you really that in your head about everything that you would much sooner sacrifice this than be happy?” Her stomach dropped. This was real. Ava was actively speaking to her about their relationship. She remained silent, too slow to keep up with Ava’s emotions. “I can’t keep doing this.”

She needs to go back to the lines, she needs to get them back on script. “Are you breaking up with me?” 

“It’s what you want isn’t it? You just don’t want to say it.” Ava doesn’t go back to the script, she turns from Beatrice and begins to walk back to the street, where the camera pans to her.

Beatrice belatedly remembers her line again as she rushes after Ava, “Please don’t do this. Don’t leave.”

Ava continues to walk away.

“CUT” The director yells, already shifting to watch the replay. They’re perfectly still for what seems like ages. “We need a few close up shots of just Ava as she’s walking away.”

Ava turns to the alley again, eyes on the paved floor.

An assistant grabs her by the arm pulling her away from the shot. As they continue to record, she can see the tears have run down Ava’s cheeks and her eyes are red and puffy. Her whole body aches to go to her, but she remains rooted to the spot. Staring where Ava had stood. Suddenly she felt the wind come up, a chill ran down her spine, the weather had taken a turn. Beatrice wrapped the jacket tighter around herself. Feeling colder and colder by the minute like the warmth had been stolen from her. 

Levy unexpectedly appeared next to her, clapping her awkwardly on the shoulder “You did good, Descartes. That was heartbreaking to watch. In the best way. Come sit down while we wait to wrap up.” Levy began leading her away, pulling at her elbow. “Stop nibbling your lips! Where’s the damn lip balm? I will not have you embarrassing me at the Met Gala with your chapped lips!” 

—

Beatrice has been pacing the hallway outside her hotel room for the past thirty minutes, and she knows it’s Beatrice because she looked through the peephole after the first few sounds of footsteps. And she knows it’s been at least thirty minutes because that’s how long she’s been standing by the door. For what? She doesn’t know, but something has got to come from this, no one just paces outside someone's room for no reason.

After the music video wrapped she came straight to the hotel room with Alice’s help, who had only looked at her once and realised she wasn’t coping. They ate their room service dinner quietly, and by ‘they’ she means Alice ate dinner while she picked at it, mind deep in thought. They didn’t speak about the shoot, Alice knew why she was upset, there wasn’t any point in talking about it anymore. All she asked was for Ava to have a good night’s sleep. They would handle tomorrow together.

As Beatrice paces outside, her mind continues to pace as well. This wasn’t healthy. They couldn’t just ignore this anymore, not like they had the past 3 days. Listening to the song while beside Beatrice was probably the worst thing she could have done. Putting a face, Beatrice’s face , along with her voice and lyrics, just made everything come together in the most horrendous way. 

Beatrice had kept her distance the moment tears welled in her eyes. Not only that, Ava had lost control. She had lost grip on the moment and resorted to calling out their own situation. Of course Alice would be the only other person present to know what she meant, and maybe Levy who continued to look between them after lunch as if trying to solve a puzzle, but that didn’t mean that it was right of her to do so. 

It had landed so heavily between them the second the words left her mouth. Springing something like that out of nowhere on Beatrice was unnecessary and had probably damaged whatever semblance of their relationship she had regained over the past few days. It was always something that she had been told from a very young age, ‘you feel too much’, ‘you don’t think before you act’, and ‘you lash out like a wounded animal when you’re angry’. She needed to step back from her anger if she wanted to have Beatrice in her life in any meaningful way.

The steps came closer to the door, something that had happened a few times already, each time ending with Beatrice backing away and pacing again. Everything inside her screamed to fling open the door. To talk to Beatrice. To at least let her know she was there waiting, but she couldn’t. This has to come from Beatrice. She was done with initiating anything between them. She couldn’t keep being the one to chase her. 

There was a small thud, basically impossible to hear if it were not for the fact that she was standing in front of the door when it happened. She could hear Beatrice inhaling a couple of times from behind the door as if composing herself. She took that moment to come closer to the door, head coming to rest against the wood, her left hand as well, waiting.

“I’m… I’m sorry,” Beatrice’s voice broke as she said it, so low, meant for no one else to hear.

Her heart leapt to her throat. She waited. Waited for Beatrice to say or do something else, but when nothing else came she took in a breath and said, “I’m so angry with you.” She could hear Beatrice take a few steps back, startled. But she stayed close. “Beatrice, I’m so angry with you.” She hates how much pain is coming through her voice. Hates how vulnerable she sounds.

Beatrice comes close to the door, then the light thud again. “I’m so sorry, Ava.” A few seconds pass where she can only hear the light exhales of both their breaths. “Ca–can you open the door, please?” Beatrice pleads, voice soft.

She doesn’t know why she looks to the ceiling, maybe for some kind of divine intervention or for fortitude. Her lips twist, considering her options, but she barely has time to weigh them before her left hand reaches for the door handle, seemingly of its own accord, unlocking the door and pulling it inwards slightly. She puts herself between the doorway and Beatrice.

Beatrice has her hair up in a low bun, strands falling loose and is wearing an oversized blue sweater over a blouse, black pants and boots. Not what you would expect anyone to be wearing close to midnight. “Do you usually make a habit of pacing hotel hallways or–”

“I’ve been inconsiderate.”

“Just that?” 

“I’ve also been mean.”

Mean. How descriptive. 

“Is that all, then?” She can feel her annoyance spike instantly, she knows she should hear Beatrice out, but Beatrice’s face is impassive. “Why are you speaking with the vocabulary of a five year old?”

Beatrice sighs, eyes blinking a couple of times and lowering to look at the floor in askance before they meet hers again. “I’m trying.”

“Try harder .” This time Beatrice puts her hands in her pockets, hangs her head, turns, and begins to walk down the hallway. Panic sets in. She let her anger get the best of her and Beatrice is walking away from a potential conversation. She knows she needs to be patient and let Beatrice come to her, so she pulls the door completely open this time and sets one foot outside in the hallway. “I didn’t say you should leave.” 

Beatrice turns around, stray hairs framing her face, a frown upon her countenance. She extends her hand out into the hall, hoping for Beatrice to take it, lest she dematerialise into a cloud of smoke. Beatrice’s hand intertwines with her own and she pulls her inside, closing the door behind them. 

In the suite the only source of light is the one that comes from a lamp all the way across the small living room and inside the bedroom. She silently guides them both through the room, as Beatrice scrambles to remove her boots, and into the bedroom. She can see Beatrice’s features in the light now, her eyes are adjusting to the low light, and everything seems calmer.

“I don’t know how–I don’t know where to start.”

“Just say whatever comes to your mind first.”

“There’s thousands of thoughts running through my mind right now.”

“Okay. Well, think of me, then say whatever comes first.”

“I adore you. There isn’t a moment when my mind doesn’t stray to thoughts of you.”

“What about the past few months when all you did was ignore me and any attempt I made at communication?”

“Even then.” Beatrice looks wounded. “I know that it’s too late now to take back my actions, but I am deeply sorry for the pain I caused you. I should have at least spoken to you about it.”

“Which actions are you sorry for, exactly? The decision to walk away from me as I called out to you? Or maybe it was the no contact for months, making me think I had imagined it all?”

“I think, no, I thought I was doing what was right for the band.”

“The band? What about what was right for me? For us !? Aside from the sheer disrespect you continuously showed me.”

Beatrice is pacing now, the hands back in her pockets. “That’s not fair, you know how much pressure we’re all under.”

She on the other hand remains perfectly still, hands crossed, “Bullshit. We’re all under pressure, Beatrice. You don’t get to use this as an excuse or something to hide behind.”

“What would you have me do? An apology will not suffice it seems.”

“I just want you to be honest with me, is that so hard?”

“I am being honest.”

“No. You’re not.” She takes a step towards Beatrice, hands coming free from her chest, “You’re saying what you believe you should say. What you think I want to hear.”

“I don’t know how,” Beatrice replies, frustrated.

“Yes, you do.” 

Beatrice’s shoulders begin to tense, “No, I don’t!”

There’s only one way to get Beatrice to come to terms with her emotions. She needs to mention the song to at least begin to unravel the feelings behind it. Beatrice writes about how she feels, she doesn’t say it, and that’s her in. “Tell me about the song.”

“I don’t want to talk about the song.”

“Why? Because it bothers you?” Beatrice nods. “Why does it bother you? Why did you write the song?”

“Because…” Beatrice exhales. “Because I was jealous! Is that what you want me to say? I thought that I was just something that didn’t matter. Something fleeting for you. The thought of you with someone else made my heart ache and all I thought I could do was write a song about it. Because if I busied myself then maybe I wouldn’t call you and I wouldn’t seem so pathetic.”

“How could you not matter to me, Beatrice? How could you think you were just something I would mess with?” Beatrice shrugs and looks away. “I knew how it would look if I went to dinner with him. I was only trying to get your attention.”

“You did it on purpose?” There’s disbelief in her tone and her features are regressing to that blank stare, Beatrice is about to her walls up again.

“No, the opportunity presented itself. I wanted you to see it, to at least call me back upset or angry or something, anything. But you didn’t. You never reached out.”

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

“What do you want to talk about then? Let me remind you, you, Beatrice, were the one that showed up outside my hotel room. What else did you want if not to talk? So fucking TALK!” Too late to stop herself, Ava realised she had let her anger get the best of her again. 

She watched in slow motion as Beatrice’s face hardened and her eyes flashed. The next thing she knew Beatrice had pulled her hard towards her and pushed their lips together.  

(*)

Todo tembló dentro de mí

(Everything shook within me)

El universo escribió que fueras para mí

(The universe wrote that you would be mine)

Y fue tan fácil, quererte tanto

(Loving you came so easily)

Algo que no imaginaba

(Something that I could have never imagined)

Then, arms wrapped around her waist holding her tightly in place. Hands bunched in her sleeping shirt as Beatrice’s lips tugged and pulled as if searching for some kind of meaning in their lips. And she wants to push Beatrice away, make her talk again, but can’t find the strength to. Because having Beatrice initiate anything at this point is a win. So she winds her arms around Beatrice as well, holding her close. She finds her way inside the baggy sweater and blouse, fingers sliding across the warm skin she finds there. 

fue perderme en tu amor, simplemente pasó y todo tuyo ya soy

(It was like getting lost in your love, it simply happened and now I’m completely yours)

Beatrice doesn’t recoil, if anything her lips become more insistent and she can feel her own lips begin to bruise under the urgency of their desire. All she wants to do is crawl inside Beatrice’s sweater and touch everything her hands can get a hold of. Beatrice has also found her way to her skin, hands running along her back, the sides of her ribs, and stroking upwards. Her legs hit the bed frame, almost losing balance. 

We should stop.

But Beatrice is committed to the task, right hand coming down to Ava’s waist, while the other one lays flat on bed, urging both of them down onto it. It’s terrifying how her body reacts instinctually, tugging at Beatrice’s sweater while still matching her lips ardently. Beatrice breaks the kiss only for a second, earning a pitiful little whine from her as their lips separate. They're both panting for air now. She can feel Beatrice’s exhale on her lips, that’s how close they still are to one another. Every intelligible thought evaporates when she feels Beatrice lean down to bite at her collarbone, then soothing the bite with the lick of her tongue. 

Antes que pase más tiempo contigo amor

(Before we spend more time together, love)

Tengo que decir que eres el amor de mi vida

(I need to tell you that you’re the love of my life)

Antes que te ame más escucha por favor

(Before I love you more you have to listen to me)

Déjame decir que todo te di

(Let me tell you that I’ve given you everything)

Arching back, Beatrice pulls both sweater and blouse off in one go, revealing a simple nude bra and the abs that make her go a little dizzy sometimes when she thinks about them for too long. Ava can practically feel her brain turning into goo. And her heart rate is on the verge of cardiac arrest.

Y no hay cómo explicar, pero, menos notar simplemente, así lo sentí

(And there’s no way to explain, but, just simply know that’s how I felt it)

Cuando te vi

(When I saw you)

Beatrice's eyes are fully blown when they meet hers, inclining herself to grab the ends of Ava’s shirt. The short hairs hit the back of her neck when the shirt comes clean off and she barely has a moment to register it because Beatrice is crawling on her just as fast. There’s so much to touch and look at all at once, and her fingers are working double time, not really sure what to give attention to. Her hands do a full sweep of the stomach, biceps, shoulders and then neck. Once there, hands wander to pull Beatrice’s hair out of her bun, the hair tie joining its pair already on her wrist. She weaves her fingers through Beatrice’s hair, pulling her down into another kiss.

Me sorprendió todo de ti

(Everything about you surprised me)

De blanco y negro a color me convertí

(I changed from white to black to colour)

Sé que no es fácil decir te amo

(I know saying I love you is difficult)

Yo tampoco lo esperaba

(I also didn’t expect it)

Pero, así es el amor, simplemente pasó y todo tuyo ya soy

(But that’s how love is, it simply happened and now I’m completely yours)

Ava notes that Beatrice is not at all shy about what she wants. The hands are exploring everywhere, and so is her mouth whenever they break apart for air. Beatrice’s hand goes to her back, caressing at first, but then searching for something, the bra clasp, but she fumbles, not managing to do what she set out to do. 

Her brain actually short circuits along with Beatrice, who breaks their kiss to look down at the clothing item in question. The other hand joins at the back, pulling the fabric of the bra a couple of times before there’s a resigned pant by her ear.

Oh. 

“It’s–it’s a front clasp.” And she wants to laugh because it is equal parts hilarious and cute, but she won’t, she won't do that to Beatrice. She props herself up on her elbows, for the first time taking in just how out of breath and disheveled Beatrice is, hair loose, cheeks flushed and lips bruised, just like hers. Beautiful . Beatrice actually takes this time to sit back atop Ava’s thighs, regarding the bra with an angry scowl. And it gives her the time to truly think about what they’re doing and were about to do.

They need to stop, she needs to stop this. Not like this. Not while both of them are angry and uncertain. 

Beatrice is inching forward again, lips lazily feathering her cheek with kisses. “We should sleep. We need to sleep, Bea. We’re basically running on bad coffee and anger. And we both have a long day tomorrow.”

Beatrice sits back again, regarding her for a second, not upset, but a little perplexed with the sudden change of events. “Oh…okay. Okay, yeah…I’ll go then,” Beatrice says, already lifting a leg off to un-straddle her, but doesn’t get the chance to move too far before Ava’s hands wrap around her waist, keeping her in place, thumbs caressing the skin there. 

“No, stay.”

“Or I could stay,” Beatrice replies dumbly, eyes still well below eye level.

She leans forward and kisses Beatrice’s nose, because she can. “Good.”

Beatrice flushes red again, but kisses Ava’s nose as well before getting off her.

She’s off the bed as well, grabbing the shirt which had somehow landed on top of their only light source.

“I need something to wear.”

“I’ll get you something.”

“Okay.”

She’s sitting on the bed when Beatrice emerges from the bathroom a few minutes later, teeth brushed, hair somewhat tamed and looking adorable in an old Totoro shirt she refuses to part with and shorts. When Beatrice reaches the bed Ava pulls the covers from the right side in anticipation. 

They both snuggle into the duvet, eventually facing each other. It’s Beatrice who opens her arms for her to come close, and she doesn’t think twice about it, already wrapping her arms around Beatrice in a vice grip, legs as well. A thought runs through her mind then, and she reaches over for Beatrice’s left hand around her, giving it a quick kiss.

“Are you going to call me a frog again?”

She takes this time to slide the hair tie back onto Beatrice’s wrist. An action that doesn’t go unnoticed. It felt significant. “I didn’t call you a frog!”

They both chuckle against each other, sleep feeling far away but also nearby.

“I’ve missed being with you.”

She leans forward to nuzzle against Beatrice’s cheek. “I’ve missed you. So much.”

“Mmm…” Comes the sleepy reply as Beatrice’s eyes blink close.

Tilting her head back, Ava’s eyes trace along the lines of Beatrice’s face, across her eyes and nose and her pouty upturned and slightly swollen lips. Her hand reaches up then, fingers running along the length of Beatrice’s cheekbones, tracing the constellations she finds there, against the fine moonlight. 

A soft snore emerges from Beatrice’s slightly opened mouth and a giggle threatens to bubble up out of Ava’s chest, but she manages to suppress it. Shifting closer once again, Ava burrows into the crook of Beatrice’s neck and breathes her in, slowly succumbing to sleep.

Antes que pase más tiempo contigo amor

(Before we spend more time together, love)

Tengo que decir que eres el amor de mi vida

(I need to tell you that you’re the love of my life)

Antes que te ame más escucha por favor

(Before I love you more you have to listen to me)

Déjame decir que todo te di

(Let me tell you that i’ve given you everything)

Y no hay cómo explicar, pero, menos notar simplemente, así lo sentí

(And there’s no way to explain, but, just simply know that’s how I felt it)

Cuando te vi

(When I saw you)

—

Sunday, May 4th. New York City

Blearily, Ava blinks awake, hands searching. All that meets her is cool sheets. She opens her eyes. She’s alone and neatly folded on the bedside table is Beatrice’s sleepwear from the night before.

— 

Beatrice is running. Dodging morning runners, co-workers with coffees in hand deep in conversation, nannies pushing strollers, zig-zagging past frolicking dogs. She had lost track of time and is now late. 

At 4:21am her eyes had shot open. Lying stock still tangled in Ava, her thoughts had spiralled. Frozen immobile by looming panic. What the hell had she done? She had lost her grip on reality the night before and was now kicking herself. In a moment of weakness after the events of the last 3 days and the consequence of being too close to Ava, caught up in her bubble, Beatrice had allowed herself to want. Beatrice was not allowed to want. She didn’t deserve to want, not after how she had treated Ava these past few months. She had made her choice. She needed to put their careers first, she needed to be the stronger one. 

They could not work. They would not work. 

She wanted to move. To put any kind of space between them but found that she didn’t have the strength to. Ava’s rhythmic breathing was calming her and in that moment, she began to feel peaceful again. Ava had tucked herself right under her chin, her puffs of air tickling at her throat. It started small, her right hand unwrapping itself from Ava’s waist, trailing up her back. So soft, barely enough pressure to wake Ava. The hand ran across Ava’s shoulder to her arm where it caressed the skin there. 

Ava stirred, nuzzling closer. “Mmmm?”

Her hand stopped their ministrations, running back down to wrap around Ava’s waist. “Sorry, go back to sleep.”

Ava nodded, placing a sleepy kiss on her neck. 

In that moment all Beatrice could do was pull Ava closer, placing soft kisses on top of her head, soothing her back to sleep.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of laying next to Ava, thoughts flip flopping back and forth, an eternity of convincing herself of what she needed to do, clammy from her anxiety, Beatrice unfroze her limbs. She knew what she had to do. What she must do. Gingerly extricating herself from Ava, she rolled out of the bed, taking care not to make a sound or shift the bed too much. Praying her eyes had adjusted enough in the dark room and that she did not cause a ruckus by bumping into any furniture or tripping over, Beatrice tiptoed into the bathroom and got dressed in her clothes. Treading carefully in her socked feet, boots in hand, Beatrice deposited the folded clothing on the bedside table and carefully observed Ava’s content face and still body, chest lightly moving up and down with each breath. 

This was it. There was no coming back from this. When she leaves, this is the end for them. Ava and Beatrice cannot come back from this. 

She doesn’t deserve Ava. Not after everything. 

Allowing herself one last moment of weakness, Beatrice ghosts her lips over Ava’s cheek. So close but not touching. Goodbye.

With one last look behind her, she slips out of Ava’s hotel suite. Taking a moment to sit down in the hallway to pull her boots on, she fights the urge to scream. She should have left a note. Ava doesn’t deserve to be left without a word, without explanation. But it’s too late now. The door had shut behind her and she couldn’t get back in without disturbing Ava from her slumber. She will text… no, she’ll call Ava later at a more reasonable hour and offer an apology for the way she had left. 

Ashamed and standing up, she begins to run. Running from what she had  done and all she was feeling. Running from all she was losing. She runs down the hotel stairwell, all 18 flights of stairs, through the silent lobby and bursts out the doors of the Plaza Hotel. Seeing Central Park across the road, she runs toward it. After sprinting for what seems like forever, she slows to a stop by Harlem Meer. Veering off the footpath into the nearby bushes, she throws up. It’s mostly bile. While Beatrice had been sprinting, as if she could outrun her demons and the consequences of her actions towards Ava, the sun had begun to rise, marking the dawn of a new day. 

Now, in Harlem, she sits by the edge of the lake and watches the ripple of the water with the wind and the dappled sunlight reflections. There, she sinks ever deeper into her thoughts . Ava will follow where you lead. But who are you? Who do you think you are? Who are you? Who are you to lead her? Who are you to lead them? You are not worthy. It’s like she can hear the echoes of her parents’ voices, her extended family’s voices in her head. Picking at her deepest scabs. 

Beatrice is fucked. Her phone was dead, she has no money and she had realised too late that they had agreed to meet in the hotel lobby at 8:00am to head to their final fitting. With plenty of cushion time to account for New York City rush hour traffic. She is very very fucked. Sprinting back in the direction of the Plaza Hotel, a helpful passerby had answered her frantic query with a “It’s 8:30!”. And she was still only halfway through the Park. She had been lost in her head, sitting by the lake, for over 2 hours.  

Perspiring heavily, Beatrice skidded into the lobby, looking like a deranged maniac. It was a miracle the door people had opened the door for her at all. “Sorry I’m late. I went out for a run and lost track of time.”

Mary is the first to cast her eyes on her, and she’s not pleased. “On a run? Like through the lake? You’re soaked. And in those clothes?”

“Weren’t you wearing that last night before you went on your walk?” Camila asks as well, her attention jumping from her outfit to her phone’s screen probably checking the time. “It’s 8:56, we’re very late.”

Shit.

She’s still wearing last night’s clothing. “I figured it was already dirty so—”

Camila is now actively dissecting her, “I didn’t hear you come in last night? When did you leave this morning?”

“Six-ish, had a lot of energy.”

“You ran for three hours?” Camila was not letting up.

Lilith had now turned to their discussion, a foul smirk on the side of her lips. “Cam, I think Beatrice wants to get away with something. I think you should let her.”

“Get away with what? I’m so confused!” Camila yelped.

Yasmine comes into the lobby, hands waving frantically, “Where is Bea– oh, there you are. The car is here and someone needs to come deal with Levy, he’s yelling hysterically at the driver.”

The ride to the rented studio for the fitting is silent. Mary refuses to make eye contact, Camila keeps looking at her trying to figure something out, Yasmine is biting her nails, and Lilith keeps winking in her direction, but not in a teasing way, more of ‘you’re so fucking fucked when we finish our schedule you fucking asshole’ way, and she doesn’t blame her. 

She did it again. She let herself get carried away with thoughts of Ava and she has once again let their situation affect her obligations. They were late to their fitting. This was inexcusable. She would need to apologise on behalf of the band, especially to Robert Wun who was probably already stressed enough with having to get them all sorted before tomorrow.

“Does anyone have a charger?” She asks in the hopes that either Yasmine or Camila reply.

“So let me get this straight. You didn’t charge your phone last night. Went for a run in your clothing. And came late to meet us at the lobby. And what? You’re now asking for a charger?” Lilith is the first to reply, unfortunately.

“Usually, when someone needs to charge their phone they need a charger.”

“Well, I don’t have one.”

“Thanks for the useless information, you arse. How am I meant to charge my phone with that?”

Mary is turning to her now, “I think you can do without your phone.” There’s a certain look in Mary’s face that says she knows exactly why Beatrice is asking for a charger. “Clearly, it hasn’t been much help today.”

It’s Yasmine who taps her shoulders once the car quiets again, offering a powerbank and cord. 

They take longer than expected to arrive at their fitting, the traffic in New York being the absolute worst. The moment they step out of the car is the moment that Beatrice’s phone finally blinks back to life. Too late . They’re all manhandled upon arrival with clothing being pulled off by impatient seamstresses. She’s stripped bare apart from her underwear and bra in front of her bandmates, but she’s not the only one. They’re all in the large studio being poked and prodded every few seconds. 

Lilith is watching her curiously, with that stupid smirk again, like she knows something. “Is that a hickey?”

It’s loud enough for the others to face her and they’re all gawking now. Looking for the supposed hickey that she allegedly has. There’s heat rising behind her neck and her cheeks feel warm immediately. She needs to look in the mirror but a seamstress is in the way. Her neck is literally doing acrobatics to get a closer look.

Lilith laughs, “I’m just messing with you, but interesting that you scrambled to look anyway.”

She has a half mind to haul Lilith outside by the roots of her hair, in front of the seamstresses and all. “I can see that you’re going to be an utter delight today.”

“I’m just getting started.”

“ENOUGH!” Levy thunders. His face a black cloud. “This is not the time for flippant jokes. We were late, and this is simply inexcusable. You will all do everything that is asked of you today and show Robert and everyone here the respect they all deserve for creating these outfits. Do not forget. It is an utter privilege for you to be wearing this and representing this Fashion House.” Whirling upon Beatrice, Levy looms closer, his voice a threatening mutter, “I will be speaking to Suzanne about today’s events.”

The gown she will wear tomorrow for the Gala is a coat-like dress covered in glass shards, which their designer had said represented love, sacrifice and personal loss. And she wanted to laugh at how on the nose it was. The fact that she would be wearing a dress that so perfectly fit what was going on in her life. An equally fractured headpiece would go along with the dress to keep her face hidden on the red carpet.

The seamstresses helped her into it, holding the dress aloft for her to slip inside, quickly fastening it around her. They set to work right away, pinning any extra fabric in place, and adding last minute shards to more sensitive areas. Leather high heel boots were placed by her feet, and she stepped in, then, came the headpiece. She could barely see through it, and she only had today to get used to the entire ensemble. After months of concepts, fittings, measurement, and adjustments it was all finished. Several rings were placed upon her fingers, being mixed and matched as the designer and his assistants decided which combination perfectly suited the look.

Camila’s outfit was being fitted at the same time, her black and white gown was covered by a massive veil and hat. Beatrice wasn't sure what it represented exactly but it had to do with decay and metamorphosis. Camila stumbled a few times as they attempted to get her inside the knee length heeled boots.

Once they were both finished it was Yasmine, Mary, and Lilith’s turn. They stood nearby, fully dressed watching the other band members go through the same process. Backing away quietly, Beatrice reaches for her phone, cast aside on a table lined up against the wall. Praying noone notices, she chances a glance down at her screen. A notification of a missed call from ‘Do not answer’ at 6:38 a.m.. Shit . She needs to call her back . Glancing up, she meets Levy’s glare and cowers slightly. It will have to wait.

Lilith and Yasmine both had gowns covered in pleated silk, Lilith’s white and Yasmine’s skin toned. Both with trailing veils representing the spirit and the flesh. Yasmine, though, had a terrifying skin graft of a head on top of the veil, which made some kind of sense…Mary’s was her favourite, it symbolised the first snowfall of Winter. It was black gown with a matching veil, which was richly embroidered with crystals emulating iced snow. 

They stood side by the side as pictures were taken of the complete looks. Every accessory, shoe, and headpiece was accounted for and would be set aside for Robert Wun to bring to the hotel tomorrow along with the army of stylists. And tomorrow they would wake at the crack of dawn and get everything put back on plus, hair, makeup and nails.

The sun was beginning to set outside the studio as the traffic outside picked up once again. They had been at the fitting for hours. They had not even broken for lunch, forgoing it in order to ensure everything would be completed. Everything was ready for tomorrow. All that was left was the presentation. They all sat along on the floor of the now empty room. The designer had left it up to them to decide on the final elements of the red carpet and reminded Levy not to worry too much about Anna Wintour, he would deal with her if there was any ill will towards him.

The plan was simple in nature, but could have the potential to spiral if things got in their way. They were to start their walk before the entrance at Fifth Ave at 82nd street, after being dropped off a short distance away. It was all coordinated along to ‘ Fils de joie ’, if they heard it go off it meant that Levy had managed to play it for the outside speakers and they could begin their walk through the red carpet. It should all take the length of the song to do. A song which represented the exploitation of a sex worker, and in this case drawing a comparison to the hard work designers and their team put behind each gown. They would walk one after the other without stopping. Once atop of the stairs before the entrance they would stand next to each other for photos before continuing inside to change for the rest of the night.

The entire demonstration would represent the gowns and nothing else. Not themselves. Not the event. Just the hard work of the design team, outside the influence of what the Met Gala had become, an exhibition of unbridled wealth, power, and possession. They were going to completely go against the theme of the gala and subvert the expectations of everyone around them.

—

Morosely, Beatrice stares down at the amber liquid, cradling the crystal tumbler in her hand. Beside her on the bar top lay her phone, open to Ava’s contact page. It was 6pm. She had survived the final fittings day. The others had dispersed, eager to rinse off the day and head out for dinner. But she had stayed. 

It was 6pm. She had failed to call Ava back. It had now been almost a full 12 hours since Ava had called her. It was too late. Too late to offer an explanation. 

Raising the tumbler up to her lips. SLAM . A hand struck the bar top next to her, startling her out of her pensiveness. Ava’s hand. 

The commotion earned the side glance of the Plaza’s bartender and that of the few guests sitting and enjoying the lobby’s bar. 

Ava reached over and snatched the whisky tumbler out of her right hand. “You don’t do this. You do not drink Beatrice Young. You cannot start this,” Ava lowly vocalised, anger imbuing every syllable. Ava downs the two fingers of whisky in one shot, grimacing as it burns, quickly glancing down at her phone. “Let’s go.”

With that, Ava grabs Beatrice’s right hand and bodily hauls her off the bar stool, keeping her hand in a death grip, in silence, across the lobby and into the waiting elevator. Ava jabs at the button for the 19th floor, slamming it a few times for good measure. Beatrice stays silent. Her hand feels sweaty in Ava’s hand, the bones in her hand beginning to ache beneath Ava’s clinch but she dare not try to let go. She barely dares to breathe. Chancing a look in the reflection of the mirror in the elevator, Ava’s face is resolute, face marred with a foreboding scowl, her lips downturned and almost white with how tightly they are clenched together. She’s never been more afraid . She can feel the fury emanating off Ava in waves.

The elevator dings as they arrive at the 19th floor, Ava dragging her through the corridor, swiping her key card and shoving her into the room. 

“WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU!?” Ava screams, right as the door closes behind her. “Who just fucking leaves someone like that? Without a word? Do you have any idea how it felt!? To wake up to find you had left in the middle of the night? How shitty that made me feel?’ Ava’s hand starts to run through her hair. “What am I? A play thing to you? Have you no respect for me?” She tries to speak, but Ava raises a finger, “No. Don’t answer that. Your actions have shown me enough. You don’t respect me at all.”

 “I’m sorry.” It goes unheard.

“And then I had to go about my day, putting on a mask. Oh. You better watch your back. Alice may just shove you into oncoming traffic. FUCK! You didn’t leave a note. You didn’t text. You didn’t call. You couldn’t even give me that. Even after I told you how it made me feel last night. Even after, even after...”

Beatrice is standing stockstill in the middle of the living room while Ava continues her tirade. Ava’s hands trembling slightly with the force of her emotions, she’s pacing back and forth in front of the door, gesturing wildly, “Y mira esa cara estúpida y perfecta mirándome como siempre, sin nada que decir! En verdad trato de entenderte, pero cada vez me haces lo mismo y ya me tienes hasta la última hostia! Me da una rabia y después recuerdo que eres tú y me arrepiento. No sé de dónde sacas los cojones para arruinarme la vida así, porque no los veo. Joder, mujer, cómo me maldices el día. Y Por qué carajo decía “do not answer” en el nombre del contacto?”

As Ava pauses to take a breath, Beatrice interjects again, “I’m sorry. I meant to call.”

“YOU MEANT TO CALL!? WELL YOU DIDN’T, DID YOU? YOU ASSHOLE!” 

Ring. Ring . 

The hotel landline rings from the buffet table in the living room. Ava storms over to it, picks up the handset and barks out a curt, “WHAT.” Ava listens for a second and then slams the handset back into the holder, ripping the cord from the wall and flings the phone onto the nearby sofa. 

Beatrice swivels and looks towards the exit longingly. Ava clearly notices the focus of Beatrice’s attention and scrambles back to place herself in front of the door.

“Speak,” Ava commands. 

“I don’t know what to say.”

“Oh. My. God. What do you mean you don’t know what to say? You say plenty in your songs? Right? That’s what you do. You hide yourself away, you hide yourself behind your song lyrics. Why? God. Fucking. Dammit. Beatrice. Why are you like this? How have you not imploded yet? Can you not just speak? Talk. Say anything. I want to listen. Please. Just let me listen.”

(*)

All that no one sees,

you see what's inside of me

Every nerve that hurts, 

you heal deep inside of me

Ava quiets. She’s watching Beatrice closely. Beatrice can feel herself breathing heavily, struggling to get enough air into her lungs. “I’m doing the best I can,” Beatrice croaks out in a broken whisper.

At that, Ava closes her eyes and seems to withdraw into herself for a moment. Upon opening her eyes again, she steps into the bedroom and Beatrice loses sight of her. She can hear Ava struggling, which causes her to step into the room. There, she finds Ava trying to undo the latches of the window.

“What are you doing?”

Ava is walking around the bedroom, collecting random objects, a remote, a notepad, loose pens, a magazine. She throws them on the bed then glances back to the open window. “If you need to throw things out so you can be happy with me then I’ll help you collect them. If that’s what makes it bearable for you and allows you to eventually choose me, then, that’s enough for me. That’s enough for now.”

The conversation from months ago passes through her mind in seconds. They were at Ava’s recording studio, just having sung Björk’s ‘Hyper-ballad’ on the piano. They discussed the song and its different meanings. Ava’s interpretation had left her speechless. 

Her eyes were on Ava’s. Surprised to find a kindred spirit. “But it’s really about casting away your negativity, the fear of whatever comes next.”

“Well, yes there’s that but also not carrying everything on your own. It’s allowing yourself to be intimate with your emotions and inner demons and sharing them with the person you love.”

“Wait, but she doesn’t say that at all.”

Ava swatted her arm, bouncing a little on the shared bench, “That’s the point! She’s not sharing her negative emotions out of fear that her relationship will be too fragile to endure it.”

The objects were the representation of the repressed emotions and baggage carried around by the person and the act of metaphorically discarding them was the release. The release to then have the strength to be with the person you love without the fear of losing them because of what they might see in you. 

Ava was asking her to liberate herself so that they could be happy together, even if it was all Beatrice could do for now.

“Ava, you don’t have to do that.”

“You know that you don’t need to carry everything on your own. I’m here for you in any capacity you’ll have me. I want you to share what makes you happy, what makes you sad, all the in-betweens. Everything. Bea, I swear I have the patience. You just need to be honest with me. And I know that right now, that’s not possible, so, this? This you can do. It’s a start.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“It’s not that simple?”

“No.”

Ava grabs the remote. “I need you to throw the remote out the window,” She says while walking towards Beatrice. Ava shoves the remote into her chest, for her to take. Beatrice shakes her head, and begins to retreat.

“Throw the remote.”

“I can’t.”

“You can’t? Or you won’t?” Ava’s voice is rising again. “Beatrice, throw the fucking remote! If this is what makes it possible for you to be happy with me then throw the remote.” She flings the remote in the direction of the bed. “No?” Rumbles forth from Ava’s chest as she shakes her head in disbelief. Resigned. “Then, go. Just…go.”

“Can I stay, please? I’m sorry if I… if this hurts.”

“Yeah. Well, at least it’s not a flesh wound,” Ava’s voice cracks as she says it. “Go Beatrice. I don’t want to see you right now.”

I feel emotional landscapes

They puzzle me, confuse

Can the riddle get solved?

And you push me up to this state of emergency

How beautiful to be

State of emergency is where I want to be

State of emergency

How beautiful to be

Chapter Text

The first Monday in May, New York City

The face looking back at her isn’t her own. 

In all the ways that mattered to the outside world Beatrice was the vision of perfection. The makeup artists had done an impeccable job hiding the dark bags under her eyes, courtesy of the lack of sleep from the night before. She wasn’t sure how she was even standing right now, probably through sheer force of will and copious amounts of coffee and energy drinks. Eyebrows fiercely drawn straight across, makeup minimal but striking, and hair in a tight bun to better suit the head piece mask combo she would wear later.

Her eyelids and eyes were the only signs of the things that were wrong. Still puffy, still red, still within a moment's notice of tears bubbling up again. Lips red with both rouge and the incessant need to nibble. The gown hugged her waist in an uncomfortable manner, constricting, but the pain was a punishment she welcomed. It reminded her that she was still there, still tethered, that she was a physical entity with sensations.

The broken glass shards reflected back the late afternoon sun coming through the hotel room window, catching her eyes occasionally. She felt as fractured and as despondent as her dress appeared. It was an odd but perfectly accurate representation of herself. The dress covered almost every part of her with the final piece, the headpiece, suffocating her completely.

 The voices in the room were starting to make their way into her ears again. Camila was quarreling with Levy on whether the flower above her hat was secured enough for the red carpet. Beatrice was sure it was just an expression of nerves rather than an actual fear. If the flower fell then it fell. They knew they couldn’t stop moving once they began their demonstration. 

Don’t stop moving. 

Don’t stop. 

Don’t.

It was like the universe was playing some kind of sick joke on her. When would she have the time to stop? Was that even possible anymore? It all just seemed like an endless race. To what? She doesn’t know. None of it seemed worth it anymore. It could be due to how fatigued she was or the fact that she was probably one erroneous event away from exploding. 

“Bea?” Camila was beside her, looking at her through the mirror. Eyes concerned, “You’ve been quiet all day, is something the matter?”

She wants to let everything out. She wants to express how much everything has escalated. How she couldn’t keep up with their precipitous rise to fame. How she was literally hanging on by the smallest fucking thread in the world. How deeply in love she was with Ava, and how it felt like an injustice that her heart couldn’t burst through her chest like she wanted it to and be free to scream it out into the world. How unexpected it had all been and how much her mind was struggling in its attempt to keep up. And how years of emotional trauma was currently keeping her from everything she wanted, everything she has never dared hope for.

What she says though is not that. “I’m fine, Cam. Just didn’t get a lot of sleep last night.”

Camila is looking at her skeptically, as if she hasn’t been a witness to her slow and equally fast unravel. “This isn’t just about last night though. I’ve seen this look day after day now, I know something is wrong and you’re not letting me in, you’re not letting any of us in.”

“I’m fine.”

“Beatrice, you’re not fine. Is it us? Are we doing something to cause this?”

Yes . Once again in her life everyone was expecting too much of her. She saw the signs, she knew she was beginning to shut down and withdraw into herself. It was easier this way. The feeling of nails scraping against the walls of her mind and heart, fighting to stay as her emotions unwillingly receded back into that metaphorical box. Safely away, where no one could reach them. Where they couldn’t hurt her or others.

“No.”

“Are you stressed about what we’re about to do?”

Yes . They were about to do something unheard of in Met Gala history. Completely going off theme on purpose. To spite everything the event stood for. They could be persecuted for this. And yet, she had wholeheartedly agreed because it had been the right thing to do. They had the platform, the message needed to be heard. Did people want to hear it? Well, that wasn’t up to her.

“No.”

“Is this all too much?”

Yes . Every time the band’s career moves ahead, she retreats. She sacrifices, they reap the rewards. She gives, everyone takes, even Ava. Leaving nothing behind in their wake. She was starting to think that staying her course, keeping to her original life plans had been the best choice for her. A simple life playing piano for the London Philharmonic was starting to sound pleasant and perfectly quaint.

“No.”

“Beatrice.” Camila is losing her patience. “Is it Ava? Is it someone else? Did they hurt you?”

Yes . Ava was never part of her life plans. Ava has caught her off guard. The person she had least expected to turn her life upside down was currently doing so. They should have never met. She should have kept her distance. She should have said no to Ava joining her in Paris. She should have thrown the note with her number away. 

She should have. 

She should have. 

She should have.

And yet she hadn’t. Because Ava has wound herself so tightly around her heart that even just attempting to remove her would leave remnants behind, just like ivy does to an old stone house. The roots burrowing strongly and without meeting any resistance, deep into her, covering her completely. Shaping its way into the house, creating a new adaptation of the house, forging a new future and dreams. And the only way to remove ivy is with a blaze, a blaze she was unwilling to strike nay incapable of. 

“No.”

Lilith and Yasmine are quietly watching the exchange and Beatrice is grateful for their silence. 

“I want to listen to anything you have to say. Please, just speak to me, to us?” Camila was supplicating with both her eyes and voice. Words an echo of what she had heard from Ava last night. “None of this is worth it if it doesn’t make you happy. It’s not worth it if we lose you in the process. If this doesn’t make us the best version of ourselves, then, let’s stop.”

She wants to reply, to say anything. To admit that yes, at some point she had lost herself along the way. That maybe this had all been too much, too soon.

Mary comes to them then, setting her hand on Camila’s shoulder. “Camila, I think you should let Beatrice be.”

“No!” Camila is grabbing ahold of her hand, and the force of her grip is so strong, that she can feel the pressure all the way to her chest. “I love you, Beatrice. You. Not some idea of you. Not what the world perceives of you. Just you. Every bad thought you’ve ever had, every sadness, every hurt. Let me help you…let us help you.”

Beatrice gapes. Not here, not now, she thinks. She was not ready for this. She had not yet recovered from the conversations with Ava and now Camila was seeking to lay her bare, in front of everyone. She feels her breath begin to quicken, her legs beginning to shake in place. Camila’s words are ringing in her ears. 

“Cam–”

“I’ll go with you to every therapy session if you think it will help. I’ll hold your hand. I’ll wait outside for you. I just want you to be happy.”

Her heart squeezes painfully inside her chest. The gown constricting her, suffocating her. She knows Cam is right. She does need help. She can’t get past this herself. The past few days have shown her that in stark relief. But not now. She can’t talk about this now. Not if she wants to make it through the evening. To perform as Beatrice, Beatrice of the Cruciforms . 

“We’re all about to have a very long night. We can talk it out once we come back to the hotel.” Mary says, extracting Camila from her side. She turns then, making eye contact through the mirror, “Beatrice, enough. This ends tonight. Whatever it is.”

Beatrice watches their retreat in the mirror, and silently mouths “ Enough. ”

They’re all dressed and ready to go once their cars arrive. She’s the last to leave the room, the hair tie on the dressing table keeping her there. Eyes glued to it. It is just a hair tie. A meaningless, simple object not having any kind of significance outside of Ava and herself. She could easily leave it behind if she wanted to. 

Levy enters the room searching for her. He doesn't attempt to make a snide remark like he usually does, his voice is delicate, “Descartes, we’re ready to go.” 

She nods to him. Then, the eyes go back to the hair tie. She grabs it, walking to Levy. “Please give me this when we change, it’s important.”

As soon as she vocalises those words, she feels a sense of relief. A rush of elation sprouts within her.

He looks at the item in his palm, it seems a lot smaller when he holds it. “I will.”

“Thank you.”

Her hand is on the handle of the room door when he speaks again. “I think she’ll wear hers too. Doesn’t seem to ever take it off, just like you. And I know because I told her she would get an ugly tan line.” He puts the hair tie into the pocket of his jacket, close to his heart, where there’s a beautifully folded handkerchief, and pats it a few times. “It’s safe with me.”

Her eyes go to the ceiling where she attempts to blink away the moisture gathered in her eyes, she can’t ruin her makeup. She collects herself, nodding back to Levy and opens the door, stepping out of the room to the waiting band members.

—

They’re at the corner of 5th Ave. and 81st St, waiting. The sun is beginning to set. The roads have been closed down for the event, the only cars allowed through are for guests who are being dropped off at the start of the carpet and it’s not red, it’s white at the center with muted green at the edges. She can see Levy’s retreating form as he crosses the road and makes his way to the museum. 

There are police and security guards everywhere she looks. Personnel in suits with ear pieces patrolling around the exterior of the museum making sure that everything is running smoothly. The press are scrambling to get pictures of celebrities as they exit their cars. Entourages surround and follow close behind them, designers, managers, publicists, and assistants.  

Suzanne is with them, she’s conversing with Robert Wun, phone in hand, anticipating Levy’s confirmation that everything is a go. She can’t see any of her bandmates’ faces, but she knows they’re as nervous as she is. Lilith isn’t even being Lilith, that’s how tense it is.

Crowds are being held back by temporary barriers, snapping photos of anyone who looks like they’re in attendance. There’s protesters outside holding signs with messages objecting to the event. The police are gathered around them as they shout and the media congregates around them.

Suzanne holds her shoulder and says, “Levy is ready.”

She breathes, looks at her bandmates and steels her shoulders. With a turn of her heels, Beatrice is off. She crosses the avenue and heads in the direction of the museum, Camila, Yasmine, Lilith and Mary following close behind. Suzanne and their designer close on their heels. She swallows everything down, the nerves, the melancholy, the fear and exchanges them all for unbridled strength. 

Inside Beatrice beats a thrum of anticipation. Ava is waiting . The sooner she completes this task, the sooner she can see Ava and let her know . As she reaches the other side of the street, Beatrice the person is replaced by Beatrice the leader of The Cruciforms. The noise from the throngs of people increase dramatically the closer she gets. The flashes from cameras are pulsating and flashing off every available surface. The baroque strings from the song is the first thing she hears then the bass makes its presence known. 

Levy had done it. Now, it was up to them. 

They strut up to the entrance of the carpet as the first verse of the song begins.

(*)

Être seul c'est difficile et là, ça fait des années

(Being alone is not easy and it's been years since my last time)

Et de juger c'est facile, surtout quand on n'y a pas goûté

(Being judgemental is much easier, especially when you've never tried it)

Le plus dur, ben, c'était la première fois. Puis le plus dur, c'est de savoir quand s'ra la dernière fois

(The hardest part, well, it's the first time. And now what's hard is to decide when the last time will be)

They walk past the security at the entrance, ignoring the calls for them to wait their turn. The last thing she hears is Suzanne trying to calm the situation along with their designer. She can barely see the carpet stretch before them, each side littered with various photographers, interviewees and news outlets all covering the event. All being kept at bay by barely standing barriers covered in real white roses and various other foliage.

Everyone around them is taken aback by the song currently blasting throughout the temporary enclosure. The celebrities stop in their spot as they march along, occasionally getting double takes as everyone's attention is consumed by their presence and their outfits. She overhears the press yelling for an answer as to who it is that they were photographing, with many attempting to follow them up the carpet instead of staying at their designated spot. 

“Who are you!?” 

“Over here!” 

“Turn this way, please.” 

A cacophony of noise. 

C'est vrai, j'suis pas contre un peu d'tendresse de temps en temps

(I'm not against a little tenderness from time to time)

Et puis cette fois-ci, ben, j'pourrais l'faire en l'insultant

(Maybe this time around we can do it with me insulting her)

Oui tout est négociable dans la vie, moyennant paiement

(Yes, everything is negotiable in life, if you have the money)

En plus j'suis sûrement son meilleur client

(And after all I'm probably her best customer)

Suzanne kept to their right side, signaling for them to continue, to execute the vision. After everything was done, they would quickly change and not reveal their identities. Beatrice was sure news would spread quickly, and their identities would be revealed in time, but, hopefully the message would come across before that.

They are about to make a left turn into the long stairwell that leads to the immense museum entrance. Everyone at this point has clued in that something is happening. 

“Stop for People’s Magazine.” 

“Are they wearing Robert Wun?” 

“Interview for New York Times?”

“Hey you! Is this a band?” More than a few murmurs of ‘who are they?’ 

Celebrities around them stood forgotten behind their wake as they began to ascend the steps. As she took the first few steps Beatrice made the mistake of looking to her left, coming across the sight of Ava, her eyes beginning at her heels and the state of unrestricted skin that spanned upwards. Completely opened for everyone to gaze upon. The beautiful Iris Van Herpen dress and all its white tulle mesh wrapped around her a lot like waves when they crash into sand and spread, the sea foam creating intricate spirals.

The dress was freeing and revealing unlike hers. And the contrast between them put things into perspective immediately. It was unavoidable thinking about it. There was Ava completely open for the world to see and appreciate and here she was covered in fabric with glass shards that threatened to cut. 

Pourquoi tout le monde me déteste?

(Why does everyone detest me?)

Alors qu'c'est moi qui les nourrit

(I'm the one feeding them)

Leurs vies seraient bien plus modestes

(Their lives would be way more mediocre)

Sans moi, elles s'raient pourries

(Without me, their lives would be shitty)

Le lit et la sécurité ont un prix Madame

(A place to sleep safely, that has a price, madame)

Ben oui dans la vie tout se paie. On n'te l'avait donc jamais appris?

(Well, of course, in this life, everything comes at a price. Did no one ever tell you?)

There was an arm draped along the right side of Ava’s waist. And her eyes followed the plain and boring black sleeve up, past the bowtie, landing on JC’s eyes. And she felt it, the moment her heart constricted in her chest, and then she fought back the urge to break away from their undertaking. She wants to go to Ava. She wants to take up her rightful place next to Ava. It should be her with her arm wrapped around Ava’s waist, holding her close. The green monster stirred and puffed inside her. Her eyes descended to find Ava’s, she was looking straight at her, expression pained, her chest rising and falling faster than before.

Beatrice tore her eyes away and continued to climb. They were almost there. Whatever feelings were threatening to burst through the seams needed to wait for this to be finished. In that split second, she had affirmed her choice. She was choosing Ava. Nothing was going to stop her anymore. She had hurt herself enough. She had hurt Ava enough. JC was merely a temporary impediment and nothing to be afraid of. She could hold on for a little while longer, and then she can finally grab Ava and tell her she’s chosen her. That she’s in love with her. Maybe they’ll sneak away early like they usually do and wander the streets of New York.

The noise was bordering on being overwhelming. She had tried to check on the others but could barely even see what was in front of her. There was too much to process, from the shouting, to the globes blinking rapidly in front of them, to the lack of breath and the thoughts that had immediately consumed her the moment her eyes met Ava’s.

Mais, OH!

(But, HEY!)

Laissez donc ma maman

(Leave my mom alone)

Oui je sais. C'est vrai qu'elle n'est pas parfaite

(Yes, I know she's not perfect, it's true)

C'est un héros

(She's a hero)

Et ce sera toujours fièrement que j'en parlerai…que j'en parlerai

(And I will always speak of her with pride…I will speak about it)

Halfway up the stairs she stopped at the dead center, the members coming at her sides all in line for the photographers to grab what would probably be the only shots of their outfits unobstructed. The flashes went off for what seemed like an eternity but they knew to stay absolutely still until the cue from the music told them to turn on the spot and ascend once again.

The harpsichord began again, beginning their cue to turn. 

J'suis un fils de pute, comme ils disent

(I'm a son of a whore as they say)

Après tout c'qu'elle a fait pour eux

(After everything she's done for them)

Pardonne leur bêtise

(Forgive them, they're dumb)

Ô chère mère! Ils te déshumanisent

(Oh dear mom! They dehumanize you)

C'est plus facile, les mêmes te courtisent et tout l'monde ferme les yeux

(It's easier for them, but they also court you and everybody looks the other way)

Their steps in beat with one another as they turned their backs to everyone and left the carpet behind them. Suzanne and Robert Wun would follow behind. Levy should already be inside with the outfits they would change into along with a few stylists to assist with their hair and touch up their makeup.

—

“You need to relax, you’re raising my blood pressure from the amount of gawking you’re doing,” Levy says while stabbing at the salad in front of him.

They were all finally at their table after a very stressful and panic-filled restroom take over where gowns flew, undergarments were exposed, and a potential black eye for Levy, which hadn’t materialised yet, courtesy of Camila had occurred. Camila had been remorseful for all of two seconds before Levy yelled ‘you look like the downfall of society’, then got another elbow in his direction, this time to his ribs.

“I’m not gawking. I am admiring from afar.” Beatrice replies, chastised, but unrelenting in her mission.

Levy leans into her ear, “Well, you look like a pervert!”

“Keep your voice down.”

Yasmine and Camila are deep in conversation excitedly discussing the celebrities they had seen, barely able to keep to their inside voices in their exhilaration. They have the table to themselves, apart from Robert Wun who is sitting next to Suzanne, engaged in animated conversation about the aftermath of their stunt. Yasmine thinks she’s being slick with all the pictures she’s covertly taking, Beatrice was sure Jude Law saw the flash go off. Lilith is busy pretending like she’s above it all and she’s not here but Beatrice has seen her react several times to Yasmine and Camila’s conversation and Mary is solely focused on texting, again.

Ava was sitting a few tables away from them, caught up in a conversation with Alice. She couldn’t see JC from her angle, but it seemed like Ava was barely paying him any mind. 

They were in the Egyptian wing of the Met, sitting a short distance away from the Temple of Dendur. Behind Beatrice was an immense floor to ceiling glass wall that during the daytime would allow sunlight in from Central Park, but right now was moody, with an endless view of the night sky.

Lowering her voice to a whisper, Beatrice angles her upper body towards Levy, “How do I approach her? We didn’t exactly leave things on the best terms.”

“Maybe an icebreaker.”

“An icebreaker? But–but…but I don’t know any pickup lines.”

“I didn’t–”

“Shhh!” She picks up her phone, desperately typing into Google.

“But I didn’t–”

She smushes her hand into his face, “Shhh!” An action that is reciprocated immediately. “Hey!”

“You stop!” She swats at his hand. 

“What about… ‘I’m not even playing cards but somehow I pulled a Queen?’”

“That's a hard no.”

Beatrice sighs, scrolling through her phone, “If you and I were socks, we’d make a great pair.”

“Stop.”

“If you were a vegetable, you’d be a cute-cumber.”

Levy rolled his eyes. “I have asked you THRICE now! Stop!” He stabbed threateningly in her direction with his fork, “Don’t you dare open up the conversation with Buzzfeed pickup lines!”

“This must be a museum because you’re a work of art?”

“Oh my God. Fine. I’ll allow it, under the circumstances.”

She sets her phone down and grabs her fork, eyes darting back to Ava’s table. “I'm suffering romantically right now, and you're not being the least bit helpful.”

“The idea of me helping you in that department should scare you... a lot.” She’s poking at her food. “Wow, this must be serious. Normally you eat like a bear waking up from hibernation.” She looks up at Levy, scandalised. “Nom nom.” Levy wiggles his eyebrows suggestively.

“She’s just so…” She makes an inhuman kind of noise that’s meant to represent everything going through her head and heart. “How do I even go over there? She’ll probably want to throw her plate at me. And honestly, I don’t blame her. She’s perfect. It’s just like the fates to have played a prank on me. I’m going to be undone by a pretty girl with red lips. Half of the time I’m rendered speechless when I’m near her. Like, how do I even exist next to her without spontaneously combusting?” Levy opens his mouth, but promptly shuts it again as she continues, “I’m actually so uncool. I have been keeping all the stupid inside since we met, and then she looks at me, with those eyes that completely dissect every part of me and I have to pretend like I don’t want to have her babies.”

“As stupid as all those pick up lines were, consider me invested.” He sets his fork down, eyes looking intensely at her, “But that was disgusting, never talk to me like that again.”

Beatrice huffs,“I’m going to go over there and say good evening, and then I’ll ask to speak to her in private. Hopefully she’ll agree and maybe I can break the ice with a pickup line, she might find it cute and not strangle me on the spot. And then…and then I’ll go from there. Not dead. But if I die please cremate my body and disperse me somewhere peaceful.”

“Okay.” Levy is attempting to put his hands by his hips, but the sitting position is making it difficult so he settles for hands atop the table like an outraged lemur. "I've never heard someone say so many inane things, one right after the other, consecutively, in a row."

Yasmine and Camila speak over each other. 

“They’re serving dessert.”

“OMG. Is that Alexander Skarsgård?!”

“He is dessert.”

“Levy, you have a boyfriend.”

He exhales, “I'm not in a place right now to be emotionally available anyway.”

—

Ava has been sitting at her dinner table sneaking glances in the direction of Beatrice’s table. Camila keeps popping up out of her seat like a meerkat, bobbing up and down in her attempt to sneak a peek at some celebrity. Alice, seated to her right, keeps trying to catch her eyes, to dissuade her from looking while balancing a conversation with Emilia next to her. 

The salad in front of her sits untouched as JC’s fingers run along her flared white sleeved arm again in an attempt to get her attention, but her eyes flit back to the table, taking in what she assumes is a figure-hugging full length black gown that Beatrice has changed into. The dim light is making it difficult to make out the entire outfit, but she can see the plunging neckline from where she is. The dress is understated, but timeless, and the way Beatrice carried herself so confidently added to the effect the entire outfit was having on Ava. Beatrice’s lazy waves fell on her bare shoulders and a stunning diamond necklace adorned her neck. Even across the room, the aura that Beatrice exudes is electric. 

“...it has caramelised pecans,” JC says, but she only manages to catch the end of the sentence.

“What?”

“The salad, Ava. Don’t you want to eat something? You probably haven’t had a chance to eat anything today.”

She grabs the fork purely by instinct because the conversation requires it, and begins to eat. “Right. Yeah.” 

The backlight coming from the temple and the shadows of people passing through it is enough to distract her from the table she wants to look at. Stagehands were currently setting up for the performances that would take place later that night. She was among the few that would sing and she had chosen one of the new songs from her album, a bolero inspired piece close to her heart. Her eyes strayed again, falling upon the subject of the song. Beatrice smiled at something Camila whispered in her ear. Beatrice looks happy . Camila was now gesturing excitedly. Lilith’s arm reaches up to pull Camila down gently, pressing her into her seat. 

“Ava?” Emilia is speaking to her now.

“Hmmm?”

“Nervous about the performance later?”

“A little, I’m looking forward to it actually.”

JC kept trying to grab her hand. “You haven’t said much about the album. Other than the music video, I know nothing about it.” She kept her left hand busy, playing with the fork in her hand. “Is that what you’re performing tonight or something different?”

“Different, that’s for sure.”

“Tell me about it.” JC insists. And she wants to appreciate that he’s trying to make some kind of attempt to listen to her, to be interested in her music but she’s too distracted or too absorbed by her thoughts to give him the attention he wants.

“It’s a love song.”

“How novel!” His endeavour at a joke annoys her more than it should. 

She can’t be angry at him for it though, he doesn’t know how much this song had hurt to write. Or the circumstances that preceded it. This song, among others, had been her outlet during those two months of radio silence from Beatrice. They completely took over previously planned tracks for the album, quickly replacing them.

She places her fork down, and begins to fiddle with the hair tie on her right wrist.

“It’s about a brokenhearted lover who has been betrayed.”

“So not a love song, then,” He teases.

Alice waits for her reply, watching her carefully.

“It’s a love song,” She asserts. Twisting the hair tie round and round by the jade flower. She sees JC’s eyes drop down towards it and stills her movements. 

It’s midway through dessert when Beatrice stands from her table, catching her eyes. She looks down reflexively, ashamed for having been caught. Everyone is chatting around the venue, moving from table to table, greeting friends and colleagues alike. The first of the musicians have taken to the stage, a string quartet, to get things started. 

“Good evening.” Beatrice has appeared right beside her. A small smile on her lips as she greets their table. 

(*)

Baby, when I see you up close

The wonders of the world don't come close

The sight of Beatrice so close, in that dress, robs her of her breath. It was figure-hugging as she had deduced, but nothing could have prepared her for the view of the neckline up close. She could even see the three freckles just to the right of…

They all greet Beatrice. Ava misses the beginning of the conversation, so caught up in her own thoughts as she eyes Beatrice. She finally tunes in while Emilia is complimenting Beatrice on the exquisiteness of her gown and the tailoring to her body. Beatrice is cordial in answering the table’s questions, but seems evasive when replying to Alice’s question about where she was during the carpet frenzy. Alice is as unconvinced by her reply as she is. It was Beatrice on the carpet, she was sure of it. Actually, there was no denying it. It had been all five of them.

Beatrice says her name and their eyes meet instantly. “I was wondering if we could talk.”

The way you hit me with those eyes

 I can't escape it, time

We can take it, love

We can make it all night

She ignores the swoop in her stomach as Beatrice’s gaze stays on her. No, she can’t agree to this. She shouldn’t agree to this. It had the potential to cause a scene and Emilia was here. Not only that, the possibility of them even having any kind of privacy in such a setting was basically impossible.

“Can it wait? I’m close to performing.”

“I’m afraid not. It’s kind of a life or death situation.” Beatrice is being cheeky, which is something she hasn’t witnessed in awhile. “I promise to have you back before Alice begins to miss you, or she turns into a pumpkin.” Alice flips Beatrice off, cooly regarding her. 

Dammit . 

Take me everywhere

I swear I have the patiеnce

I wanna trace my hands across your frecklе constellations

Let me let your lips be my destination

She stands, patting down the corseted lace mini dress. Beatrice takes in her gown, honey brown eyes slowly coming up to meet hers, throat moving as she gulps. “You look resplendent.”

Ava feels her face flush and her ears get hot. Somehow, Beatrice manages to balance sounding like a seventy year old and looking like sex on a stick. 

Alice calls out after them, “Don’t take too long Cinderella!” Emilia is too immersed in conversation with Iris van Herpen to pay her any mind. JC is looking after them with a quizzical look on his face. 

Beatrice leads the way, guiding them to a quieter corner, inside the Egyptian Art wing. It’s as quiet and private a spot as they are going to get. Beatrice reaches out, cradling her right hand, thumb stroking at her wrist, next to the flower. Beatrice’s hand feels a little clammy. Beatrice bends forward, turning her wrist to face upwards before placing a lingering kiss on her pulse point. Her breath hitches and her heart thunders at the unexpected move. She sees rather than hears Beatrice take a deep breath in. “Did you fall from the heavens? Because you look like you walked out of a dream. My dreams.” Beatrice’s eyes light up in glee at her own joke.

God fucking dammit.

Oh my God, it's happening again

I feel myself falling back in

Ava’s mouth drops open unbecomingly. “Wh-Wha- Is this some kind of fever dream?”

Gravity has got me holding tightly, 

I might be

In a little over my head

“Are you tired? Because you’ve been running through my mind all day.”

“Are you having a psychotic break?”

“This must be a museum because you’re a work of art,” Beatrice winks. 

“This is literally a museum of art,” Ava remarks drolly.

Beatrice pouts in response. Ava has to literally tear her glance away from the adorable sight lest it render her incapacitated.

There is a joy emitting from this Beatrice that is standing in front of her, she doesn’t know quite what to make of her. She hasn’t seen Beatrice this open, this uninhibited since the freak snow storm in London. 

A thought occurs to her.

“Are you drunk!? Have you been drinking?”

“I’m drunk on you. I promise that’s the last one. I’ve just had a few sips…for courage.”

Beatrice reaches forward and strokes a lock of Ava’s hair, tucking it neatly behind her ear. “You looked breathtaking in your gown outside, all eyes were on you.” Then, softer, “I couldn’t keep my eyes off you .”

At that Ava arches an eyebrow, “No, pretty sure all eyes were on you...”

Beatrice reddens, “You knew right away didn’t you?”

Ava hums in reply.

I think you understand what’s on my mind

The way you hit me with those eyes

She knows they’re running out of time. Beatrice isn’t getting to the point and soon she will need to go prepare for her performance. 

“The moment I saw you… I wanted to go to you, to be beside you. But…but then I saw him. I promised myself that I would finish the carpet. We weren’t supposed to stop for anyone. And then I would come to you.”

What in the hell is going on? The last 24 hours with Beatrice has been some of the most confusing, conflicting, enraging moments of her life. And yet, this Beatrice almost seems like…

“What is this back-and-forth? You’re giving me whiplash.” At that, Beatrice’s face drops. 

“Ava, I am sorry. I am truly regretful for my behaviour.” Completely deadpan, she offers, “I will fall to my knees and seek absolution at your feet if you wish it of me.”

Ava huffs. “What was the point of pulling me aside if you aren’t going to be serious? Did you have anything meaningful to express?” Shooting Beatrice a narrow stare, she steps away and walks towards an exhibit, feigning interest. 

What the fuck was Beatrice up to?

She hears the hurried click of Beatrice’s heels approach, a warmth engulfing her from behind. Beatrice’s arms tightly wrap around her waist, pulling Ava into her. Beatrice’s body solid behind her, lavender perfume permeating her senses, head nuzzling close to her face, her waves spilling over into Ava’s face and vision. In a quiet whisper Beatrice says, “Please. Don’t go.” 

Ava moves to disentangle herself creating space between them. Her hand rests atop the glass cabinet, housing various lapis jewels. It almost seems like… but no, she can’t be fooled. Beatrice isn’t serious. Beatrice has been sending her mixed signals, and she can’t keep doing this to herself. 

Beatrice steps up to right of her, left hand wandering to her own. Beatrice’s amber flower knocking into Ava’s jade one. She hears Beatrice take a deep breath in. “I would prefer it if we didn’t cause bodily harm from 19 stories up.” Their fingers are brushing, unable to restrain themselves. “Therapy may prevent litigation.”

At that, Ava whirls around to face Beatrice, eyes searching. Her fingers are grabbing at Beatrice’s, pulling her closer. Hoping. Wishing. Wanting. “What changed?” 

“I don’t want to keep hurting.” Beatrice’s fingers intertwine with her own. She’s looking up at Beatrice, the slight height difference apparent even in heels. “I don’t want to hurt you anymore.”

Take me to your mountain high

Your river, your valley wide

Take me where nobody’s been before

Approaching footsteps sound. “Time to bewitch the crowd, Cinderella,” Alice calls out from the hallway entrance.

Grimacing, Ava pouts at Beatrice, “Sorry, Prince Charming, it’s midnight and the pumpkin has called,” Ava teases as she turns to go. After taking a few steps away, Ava turns and walks back to Beatrice, stroking her hand down the length of Beatrice’s bare arm, down to her fingertips, she leans in into Beatrice’s ear, “Is that Versace you’re wearing? Because it’s going to be on the floor of my bedroom later tonight.” With a final wink, Ava strides away. 

I wanna hide in the covers, 

discover your body slow

I wanna follow your fingers forever and ever,

oh-oh oh

‘Til there’s nowhere left to go

“Wait Ava!” Beatrice calls out, hurrying to get in front of Ava before she enters the hallway. Leaning forward, she presses a gentle kiss to the apple of Ava’s cheek, careful not to leave a mark. “Go and be amazing. I’ll be watching… and maybe after we can sneak out early? Wander around the city for a bit?” 

“Absolutely,” Ava breathes. 

With that, Beatrice bestows upon her the most beautiful crescent eyed smile in the world. 

‘Til there’s nowhere left to go

—

(*)

El oro pudo más que mi dolor

(Gold was stronger than my pain)

No tuviste compasión de mi agonía

(You had no compassion for my agony)

Tú sabiendo que mi alma se moría

(You knew that my soul was dying)

Con amigos entre copas te reías

(You laughed between drinks with friends)

There was a single microphone stand in front of Ava as she performed. Her hands moved about as if trying to articulate the meaning of the song. There were moments where her eyes shut, concentrating on sustaining a long note or in an attempt to give more emotion to the lyrics.

As Ava performed, Beatrice couldn’t help the thoughts that inundated her head. And so what if she was currently comparing Ava to the goddess Isis, as she sang in front of the temple built and dedicated to the deity. No one could stop her, not even herself. Isis, renowned for her charm, powers of transformation, and ability to enliven the natural world, was Ava to Beatrice, a goddess straight out of mythology.

La ambición, delirio de grandeza

(Ambition, delusions of grandeur)

Hizo en mí un ser martirizado

(Made of me a martyred being)

Porque estaba locamente enamorado

(because I was madly in love)

Mujer, yo no merezco esa bajeza

(Woman, I don't deserve such baseness)

Ava’s eyes found hers, left hand pointed in Beatrice’s direction, then landing atop her heart. A smirk appears on Ava’s face as she turns her head towards the band on stage. What was up with that smirk?

Each performer was required to do three songs of their choosing. Ava had chosen a more simple approach than that of the other performers with minimal choreography, wanting to set up the mood for the night ahead. So far she had sung along to the more traditional flamenco songs that were popular among the crowd, with only a few other musicians joining her on stage to play the guitar, drums and for this song specifically a few brass instruments.

The temporary lights pulsated along the beat of the music, adding to the intimate and romantic nature of the song, but there was something about it that wasn’t quite effervescent. There was a delivery in Ava’s voice that made Beatrice think the song was sorrowful. She didn’t know the song. Hadn't heard it before in Ava’s collection. And she had heard the finished album months ago, this hadn’t been part of it.

Espero con el tiempo justiciero que retornes buscando una ilusión de amor

(I hope that with righteous time you’ll return looking for an illusion of love)

Y volverás a mí, así lo espero

(And you'll return to me, that's what I hope)

Así lo espero, mujer sin corazón

(That's what I hope, heartless woman)

Maybe if Ava is hungry they can just grab a bite to eat and then take a romantic walk by the East River. But, it is late though. Almost 11pm. Maybe once they’ve managed to sneak away, they should just walk along the outskirts of Central Park, and go back to the hotel. That would be enough. To finally be alone with Ava, to just hold her hand without any disturbance or anyone watching, like they have been these last few days. She of course has a lot of explaining to do as well. They had time. Neither of them have schedules tomorrow, they can talk all night if they have to, among other things.

“She’s incredible, isn’t she?” JC says, appearing next to her, leaning close to her ear in an attempt to be heard over the music. She has to fight the urge to visibly cringe away from the stench of alcohol on his breath and person. 

She subtly sidles half a step away.

She turns and nods a single nod in agreement, “She is.” She needs to find a reason to leave this conversation immediately. It is clear JC has been drinking heavily since she had greeted him at their table alongside Alice and Emilia. 

She chances a look at her table in the hopes that her mental outcry for help will be heard and one of the members will beckon her. She puts bets on Yasmine. 

“You’re here with your band,” He slurs out, snapping his fingers a couple of times, “the…crucigrams? No? Cruci-something. Kinda forgettable.”

Whatever is bothering JC and causing him to consume so much at a public event is not her business so she stays quiet. Hopefully his publicist will come by soon and defuse the situation. 

“Champagne?” A waiter walks up proffering the champagne glasses to the both of them.

JC dismissively shakes his head and waves the waiter away. 

“No, thank you.” Beatrice replies, not at all surprised by his arrogance.

“She always manages to captivate everyone in the room, doesn’t she? She really makes everyone feel special, even when they’re not. She has her fun and then walks away.” JC turns towards Ava, gesturing at her as she finishes up her song, looking smug. “But I like her. I think I can finally get her to stick around and make me an honest man.”

“I think Ava will be too preoccupied with her promotions and an album release to be focusing on making you an honest man. ” Beatrice retorts, unable to hide the snark in her tone. 

Thunderous applause fills the air, everyone cheering Ava as she concludes her set. Ava is seen waving at the crowd as she runs off the stage. Stagehands swarm the stage, quickly setting up for the next act.

“She might not have time but I do. I’m in between albums. I can follow her around once she’s on tour. I’m willing to do that, can everyone else ?” JC’s eyes seem to be making an attempt to focus intensely on her, but the alcohol has made them hazy and droopy.

JC proceeds to take a sip out of the tumbler of rum and coke he’s holding loosely in his grasp.

Beatrice subtly sighs, her eyes roving around the hall. Where the hell was Levy when you needed him? Would anyone catch her silent plea for help, someone, anyone? Her stupid upbringing was keeping her rooted to this spot, engaging in this exchange with this douchecanoe.

“Look. Let me be honest with you and spare you the hurt down the track. She’s just playing with you. She’s magnetic and attracts everyone to her but she doesn’t mean anything by it. You’re only worth her interest momentarily. She has her fun and then she’ll be over it,” JC nods to himself and murmurs almost half underneath his breath, “Someone like you will never keep her.”

(*)

[A loud record scratch reverberates through the hall]

Nobody pray for me

It been that day for me

WAAAAAAAAAAAYYYYYY

Yeah, yeah!

“Pardon?” At JC’s words, Beatrice tenses. Crossing her arms across her chest. 

The action draws JC’s eyes downard, he focuses on her hair tie. “Hmm. I thought so.” A wry smile creases its way across JC’s face before smoothing back into an almost feral grin. 

“JC, this has been an absolute pleasure but I’m going to head back to my table now. Have a good evening.”

Beatrice begins to walk away.

“You two are never going to work, you know? You’re fooling yourself otherwise.”

Beatrice swings back towards him “What?” Stepping closer back to JC.

I get way too petty once you let me do the extras

Pull up on your block.

Then break it down,

We playin’ Tetris

“You’re never going to be good enough for her. Ava? Ava is brilliant. She’ll choose someone that’s at her level.” JC scoffs. “You’re what? A one hit wonder so far? Soon you’ll fade out of the public’s eye, and you’ll lose all sparkle and appeal and then Ava will vanish. No one will even remember you in 5 years. Give it another 10 years and you’ll appear on those ‘what happened to them?’countdowns. Or… or you’ll get really lucky and you might be able to muster enough interest for those sad, pathetic nostalgia tours and dig yourself out of the desperate pit for a bit.”

“Wow... JC. Rarely does anyone leave me speechless at their lack of decorum or self-restraint. That truly was an insightful revelation into your character. I am going to be walking away now before you say anything else or I say something I have the decency to regret later. Also, you really have no idea what you are talking about. I am good enough for her… Not that I need to justify myself to you.” 

“Yeah? Then why was she fucking me last night?” JC downs the last of this drink and raises the empty glass towards her in a cheers. He grins. “If you’re good enough, why did she choose me over, and over and over again?”

She feels her face drain of blood, eyes frantically roaming, looking for an escape. From across the room, she sees Ava hurrying towards her and their eyes meet. Something must register in her gaze as Ava breaks into a run, pushing through the crowd to get closer to her. 

She needs to get to Ava .

She needs to speak to Ava . 

Beatrice takes a few steps in Ava’s direction, but then feels the hard grip of JC’s hand wrap around her left wrist, squeezing down tightly. Her bruise erupts in pain.

“Get your hand off me!”

I’m imagining.

So tell me what the fuck is up? What's happening?

“We’re not finished talking. Tsk. How discourteous of you. What would your parents think of you and your manners?”

If I quit this season, 

I still be the greatest

Funk

Spinning around, Beatrice wrenches her hand from JC’s grip, his fingers catching onto the hair tie and it snaps, she watches the amber flower fly up and bounce onto the floor, as if in slow motion. 

My left stroke just went viral

Right stroke put lil’ baby in a spiral

JC approaches again, arm outstretched towards her. Beatrice thrusts the heel of her right palm forcefully into JC’s right armpit, feeling a pop, and then using the momentum to propel him around her body before slamming him into the ground. She feels the give as his shoulder dislocates when he hits the floor. 

Soprano C,

We like to keep it on a high note

It’s levels to it,

You and I know

Heavy droplets of tears roll down her cheeks as Beatrice sobs, bending down to pick up the broken elastic tie and searching the floor for the amber flower, finally spotting a half by a glossy Christian Louboutin, and the other a few centimetres away. As she picks up the broken pieces, murmurs along the lines of ‘what the fuck was that?’, ‘who does something like that?’, ‘what happened?’ interspersed with JC’s audible groans of pain reach her ears. As Beatrice straightens up, she realises that phones are aimed towards her, capturing the aftermath, eyes narrowed at her in disgust, people shaking their heads and cries for someone to call the medics in. 

Ava’s panicked visage swims into her eyesight, frantically scanning her body up and down “Beatrice! Bea– are…are you hurt?” 

There’s a constant ringing in her ears now, making everything feel sluggish and disorientating.

Beatrice vaguely registers the arrival of her bandmates and Suzanne and Levy, who are immediately trying to wrest the situation under control.

Medics have now arrived and are tending to JC.

Bitch, be humble (Hold up, bitch)

Sit down (Hold up, lil'— hold up, lil' bitch)

Be humble (Hold up, bitch)

Sit down (Hold up, sit down, lil’— sit down, lil’ bitch)

Be humble (Hold up, hold up, hold up, hold up, lil' bitch)

Bitch, sit down (Hold up, lil’ bitch)

Be humble (Hold up, bitch)

She can hear voices trying to get her attention, entreating her to calm down. An arm, Mary’s arm, moves into her eye line, reaching for her. She stumbles back a few steps. She can feel her heart beating double-time, her chest is rising up and down rapidly, struggling to intake enough air into her lungs.

She feels herself begin to stammer. A panic attack is imminent. Everyone’s too close, everyone is crowding her. Everyone is suffocating her. 

Levy turns and says, “Ava, get her out of here!”

Ava is reaching forward slowly, Beatrice flinches away at the first touch but Ava smooths her palm soothingly over her forearm, it’s nice and warm and solid. It grounds her. Ava is gently shushing her, vocalising quiet steady noises. Ava grasps her hand loosely and begins to lead her out of the Egyptian wing.

Dazedly, Beatrice follows Ava as she leads her through the corridors, emerging into the Great Hall. 

Right now my sanity is gone, it's vanishing.

The Great Hall. With an exit. Beatrice can escape from here. With a start, she awakes from her stupor, wrenching her arm away from Ava. She hurries towards the entrance leading out to 82nd Street, realising too late that although the throng from earlier has died down the street is still filled with a crowd waiting to see celebrities departing, paparazzi, protestors and security.  Shit . Turning on her heel, Beatrice sprints up the heavily decorated stairs towards the 2nd floor.

I know I do this to myself, it's damaging.

—

Ava follows the whimpering. 

When Ava finally catches up with Beatrice, she has passed through a series of galleries all resembling a maze, showcasing various classical works of art spanning decades, centuries. Beatrice is standing in front of a painting, it’s small but from a distance Ava can tell it’s a Monet. 

Beatrice is muttering brokenly to herself while fiddling with something in the palm of her hand. Stepping closer to Beatrice but still maintaining enough distance to give her breathing room, she hesitantly asks, “Beatrice? Are you ok? What happened? Talk to me.” 

Beatrice’s broken mutters get louder and stronger. Ava strains her hearing to try and pick up on what Beatrice is saying, “It’s…it’s broken.” She’s looking at the painting closely, eyes going between both ends of the bridge depicted in it. Ava follows her gaze, but curiously her eyes land on the lilies floating on the pond instead.

“What’s broken? Let me see.” 

Beatrice turns, walking to the available bench a few meters from the painting and sits. She joins her on the bench, waiting for any kind of move from Beatrice, she slowly opens her right palm, revealing its contents. It’s Beatrice’s hair tie but the elastic is stretched and broken and the flower is split into two pieces.

Ava gasps. 

 “I…can’t fix it.” Beatrice says, looking down despondently at her palm.

Ava hesitantly reaches out, gently holding one half of the amber flower between her fingers. “I’m–it’s…it’s okay.” She lays her palm along with the piece back atop of Beatrice’s hand, sandwiching the hair tie between their grasp.

Beatrice nods, a couple of sniffles escaping as they sit there cradling the broken hair tie between them. 

“Ba-Bea, Bea…it’s okay,” She corrects herself and gives Beatrice’s hand a soft squeeze. “Give it to me. Here, take mine.” She tenderly pulls at the elastic of her own hair tie, looping it over their joined hands and onto Beatrice's wrist. Raising Beatrice’s arm upwards, Ava bends her head down and kisses the pulse point of Beatrice’s wrist, right next to the jade flower. She holds their hands to her lips, putting as much love as she can to the kiss before drawing back and picking up the pieces of the broken hair tie, clenching it in her palm. She feels the broken pieces jab into her hand. “I’ll fix it. I promise I’ll fix it.” 

Lifting her head and looking at Beatrice’s face, Ava is surprised to see a storm raging within Beatrice’s honey brown irises. A whirlwind of emotions flits across her face - hurt, confusion, sadness, anger, jealousy, suspicion, anxiety all warring before anger ultimately wins. A silent fury seems to consume Beatrice’s being, her figure becoming rigid and her entire person vibrating from the intensity of her emotions. “It can’t be fixed. You broke it…you broke us.” 

“Wha-what?” Ava stammers out. 

Beatrice’s hands are clenched at her sides. “When you told me to leave last night, what did you do?” Her tone was hostile, ready to cut at a moment's notice. 

Ava inhales sharply, breathing out her reply, “He told you.”

“I asked to stay, I wanted to stay, but the first thing you did, no, the first person you go to is him?!” Beatrice stands up abruptly. “And you fucked him all night? Over and over and over apparently.” She’s beginning to pace back and forth in front of Ava, who is still seated. “You made me think… no, I believed. Stupidly, I believed that you wanted me.” Running a palm down her face, Beatrice is brushing away moisture pooling in the corner of her eyes. “I guess you weren’t too tired for him, were you?”

“No! Beatrice. No. No.” Ava too stands up, reaching towards Beatrice beseechingly, “I did sleep with him, yes. But I immediately regretted it. I got up and left and came back to my room and sat there disgusted with myself for what I had done.” Ava makes a grab for Beatrice’s hand but Beatrice snatches it back out of her reach. “I didn’t stay with him. Please. You have to believe me. It was a brief lapse of judgement.” 

“Right, of course!” Beatrice scoffs, “Believe you? How could I possibly believe you right now?”

Ava looks straight at Beatrice. “You’re the one I want. You know this.” Eyes carefully eyeing Beatrice’s facial expressions, “Have I not made it clear? How can I make it more clear to you?”

“Yeah? If you don’t want him then why is he here as your date?” Beatrice is putting more space between them now, hands clenched at her sides, shoulders tense. “It’s so convenient isn’t it? He’s always there, just waiting in the wings. The moment something doesn’t go your way, you turn to him.” 

Ava moves towards Beatrice, “You know that’s not true at all.”

“Fucking great! JC the comforter. JC! JC! JC!” Beatrice’s hand gestures angrily, her freckles standing out even more with how red her face has become. “Who can take you out to dinners and follow you around on your tour. JC who has time. JC who isn’t a hard choice. JC the available. JC, a guy!” 

“What are you talking about?! You’re everything I want. You’re all that I’ve thought of since you carried me back to the hotel that night. Since you helped pick up my hair as I vomited. Since–”

“He’s not the pathetic, sorry excuse of a person who lets her band down, who lets her family down, who royally fucked up tonight and ruined everything she’s worked for. All for what? For some girl? A girl whose first instinct is to go and fuck someone else?” Beatrice creates space between them again and this time Ava doesn’t close the distance.

(*)

You always think you know me best, you don't

I need you to listen, but you won't

“You have got to be fucking joking right now. Where do you get off saying that to me Beatrice? Who the fuck do you think you are? Who the fuck do you think you are to me?” 

“Apparently nothing given your actions!”

“I just, I cannot believe you. Don’t you trust me? Why is it your default to always mistrust me? Do you go through life distrusting everyone?” Her hands are up now as well, gesticulating wildly with every point. “You’re twisting the truth to fit into some illusion in your head. Why is your self worth so low that your immediate reaction is to lash out at me?”

“My self worth?! Why do you keep bringing that up? You think because you’ve known me for eight months it means you have the right to comment on that aspect of my life. I’m not something that needs to be worked on!”

“You’re fooling yourself if you think that. Only a few hours ago you were telling me you would go to therapy, for yourself, and for us. I have given Beatrice. I have given to you over and over and over. I’ve been so patient. Every time I try to walk away, you fuck me over. What a fucking joke right? Fool me once and all that? At this point, it’s like fool me a hundred times.” She’s running her hand repeatedly across her forehead, “I must be the biggest idiot in the entire world. All I have ever done is follow you, follow your lead. You retreat a step, I take a step forward.” 

“I never asked you to! You took that upon yourself. I just wanted to focus on my career, on the band, on myself. But you came in, sweeping me along under the wake of Tsunami Ava without a second thought. It’s always been about you. You. What you wanted. You didn’t for a second consider if it was what I wanted too. I wasn’t ready for you. I wasn’t ready for this!”

Hand on heart, I always put you first

Even when it's more than you deserve

I moved my world to fit you in

I let you leave, I let you back in

You had your go, now, baby, it's my turn

“Really?! You act as if you weren’t a willing participant. To say the very least. Behave like an adult Beatrice and own up to your actions. Oh, Beatrice is so damaged. Oh, Beatrice is afraid, I better tiptoe around her fucking feelings because they’re so precious. Guess what? You’re not the only damaged one. I just hide it better.” She pauses, taking a breath, “Do you even know what you did to me? What you do to me every time you deliberately walk away? Every time you don’t respond? As if you don’t care? As I’m not worth your time? I sit there, wondering, and waiting. Waiting to see if you’ll ever show up again. Wondering if you care enough to show up. Because people who care don’t leave.” 

Beatrice is stunned into silence.

“People who care don’t just walk out on their families in the middle of the night, leaving their child who just lost her mom. People who care don’t die and leave their kid behind. I sit there, wishing, waiting. Hoping. Hoping she will walk through the door again and that this will have all been a nightmare. I would give it all up in a heartbeat for her. So don’t fucking sit there like you are some kind of tortured soul that no one else understands. All you’ve ever done for me is give me hope and then rip it away time and time again. What kind of person are you? I have worked so hard, for so long, to try and get over this. Then you go silent, refusing to answer any form of communication, and I’m right back to being seven years old again.”

Without a moment to allow Ava’s words to land, Beatrice says, “You want too much. You’re asking too much. I can’t give you what you want. This was always a pipe dream. It’s time to wake up now Ava. We can’t work. We won’t work. I can see it, JC can see it, Alice can see it, everyone can see it. You see it. You just won’t admit it.”

“I am doing what is right. I’ve done the best I can. It’s never enough. It’s not enough for you, it’s not enough for the band, it’s just never enough for anyone. It’s best to just cut ties now. That’s why I left that morning. I made the decision to end this. Whatever this is. We have different dreams, different paths. We’re too busy for each other. This was a lull in time. Soon, we will just resent each other and end in bitterness. Is that how you want it to go? To go through all that and end up hating each other? I don’t have anything more to give.”

“You fucking asshole! You were going to leave me again!? Without a word. Without discussion.  Without even considering my feeli–”

“You’ve probably never even dated a girl before, Ava. How do you know this is what you want? Have you even considered how this would affect our careers? Your career? Let me guess you probably haven’t, have you? Because that’s how you are! You don’t ever stop to think before you do things. You’re impulsive and then you make your mess everyone’s problem too.”

As Beatrice continues Ava clutches the broken pieces of the hair tie between her hand, she can feel its broken edges cutting through her skin. “I–”

“Look at what’s happened tonight. I lost control. I’ve endangered everyone’s careers, I’ve probably ended mine. I lost control and made an embarrassment of everyone, I’ve shamed my parents - what must they think of me? All because of you. All because of my error in judgment. I can’t let this go on. I choose the band. I have to choose the band.”

“Beatrice, you always think you know what’s right and you don’t actually stop to ask others what they want, what they think is right. They don’t blame you Beatrice. I spoke to Mary. Mary doesn’t blame you. The album is finished. You’re okay. It’s going to be okay. Please. The only thing stopping you. From this. From us. Is you. But you just keep walking away. This is hurting me. This is breaking me. I have lost too much. I have lost too many people to lose you too.”

“Why do you even fucking care what Mary or the band thinks! You think that just because you help with our music video that everything is forgiven. Why do you care? We’re nothing to you. Why do you continue to wrap yourself around me?!”

“BECAUSE I’M IN LOVE WITH YOU!” She pauses, shocked with her own declaration. Beatrice is befuddled, “Beatrice, I’m in love with you…I have fallen in love with you and I haven’t been able to let myself truly feel that. Isn’t that fucking sad, that this is how I say those words to you. All I want to do is embrace my feelings for you but all that’s given me is small pockets of happiness amongst all the pain.”

“You’re not in love with me. You can’t. You can’t want this. You don’t want this. It’s wrong,” Beatrice responds flatly. 

“Don’t you dare tell me how I feel!”

Beatrice is shaking her head, “You can’t be in love with me. I won’t let you.”

“You won’t let me?! There’s no letting me. It’s too late, it’s done.” Ava reaches forward, hoping Beatrice will reach for her. When Beatrice makes no movement, she lets her hand drop back down to her side. “I know that you’re in love with me, too. Why are you fighting this? I know how you feel. You can’t help yourself, your actions betray you.”

It’s quiet.

“I heard you that day at the studio, I heard the song.” 

“What song?”

“ You wrote me a note, cast a spell on my heart and bewitched me. ”

Beatrice turns to the painting again, “It’s not about you.”

“Really? It’s not about me? Beatrice…you’re breaking my heart.” Beatrice doesn’t respond. “Okay, enough.”

Forgive me for the words I'm 'bout to say

I'm about to hit you with the worst of me

“You’ll never be happy,” She chokes out, trying to stifle her sobs.

Ava’s heels echo as she makes her way through the gallery of mazes again, eyes jumping from painting to painting, dissociating. The artworks change from the colourful depictions of life of the impressionists to that of despair and beautiful morbidity. Her eyes landing on one of Goya’s Los Caprichos etches, specifically the The Dream of Reason Produces Monsters , a self portrait of Goya asleep, surrounded by monsters, thoughts, dreams, imagination. 

As she emerges through the grand archway Alice is waiting for her at the top of the stairs. She doesn’t stop, quickly descending, “Release the album.” 

“What? Ava, what are–”

“Release the album.”

At the bottom of the steps Alice whirls around blocking her from advancing forward. “You can’t do that, Emilia will kill you.”

“Alice. Release the fucking album!”

“I won’t–” Alice looks at something behind her, “Okay, let’s go.” That’s the last thing I’ll do. 

This is the way the world ends. 

This is the way the world ends. 

This is the way the world ends.

Not with bang, but a whimper.

Chapter Text

“You’ll never be happy,” Ava chokes out, stifling a sob.

Beatrice, I’m in love with you.

Isn’t that fucking sad, that this is how I say those words to you.

You’re not in love with me.

I won’t let you.

She hears the sound of heels departing, but she’s frozen to the ground staring at the stupid painting. And it’s mocking her. What should be a depiction of a serene scene in front of her taunts her with a happiness she could never have, that she hasn’t allowed herself to have. She's stuck, she’s stuck on that bridge. She needs to decide. She can’t stay on the bridge. 

Give it to me. Here, take mine.

I’ll fix it. I promise I’ll fix it.

It can’t be fixed. You broke it…you broke us.

She shakes her head, eyes searching the vast ceiling above her. They make their way back to the painting and this time her gaze lands on the lilies instead. The space between the bridge, the common ground, the obsession Monet himself had. 

I’m in love with you.

What the fuck?

What the fuck did she do?

What the fuck did she just do?

She whirls around and bursts into a sprint. She needs to get to Ava.

Her heels slip and slide, attempting to grip to the floor in her mad dash to follow Ava’s whimpers. But her rush to catch up to Ava is hampered by the restrictive nature of her dress. Ava’s close, she can still hear her cries reverberating through the space but this place is a maze and she doesn’t remember the path she took to get here. She’s sure she has passed that same Van Gogh twice now. 

At last, the arch of the grand stairs is within sight, she makes a futile attempt to quicken her pace still but the dress prevents her from advancing any faster. She’s at the top of the stairs now, she can see Ava at the foot of the stairway. Ava has her back turned to her, speaking to Alice. Alice sees her. Beatrice is taking the steps, almost falling down them in her struggle to take two or three steps in one go. Alice is pulling Ava away. She’s huffing out a yell, a scream, anything to alert Ava to her presence but nothing comes out. She’s out of breath. 

They’re exiting onto 82nd Street. No.

Beatrice sees the town car pull away, carrying Ava away. The photographers outside are snapping pictures as the car departs. The crowds are still gathered hoping to catch a glimpse of celebrities. She can walk to the hotel. She can avoid the crowd and the traffic if she goes through Central Park.

A hand grips her shoulder and she reflexively puts space between them. “Beatrice!” Suzanne is looking at her, the set of her jaw tense, mouth pursed, she’s furious. “Come with me, now!”

“No.” She shakes the arm off her shoulder, taking several steps down towards the carpet. 

“You and I need to talk,” Suzanne has a grip on her forearm now, it twinges under the pressure. “We need to speak before you do something else you’ll regret.”

“I don’t regret what I’ve done!” She tries to pull her arm away but can’t manage to. Suzanne’s grip holding strong. “Get your hand off me!”

“Beatrice. That is enough!” Suzanne barks out.

She finally manages to break free, Suzanne’s hand loosening but she stays rooted to the spot. Chest moving up and down erratically, she can feel the heat flushing through her neck. Her cheeks are burning from the anger currently coursing through her body. She can’t lose Ava. She won’t lose Ava. “You want to talk? Then you can follow me. We’ll talk on the way.”

Suzanne’s mouth opens in protest, but must realise just how serious Beatrice is because she nods, head aiming to the side of the museum. Beatrice turns heading in that direction. 

They’re walking along the edge of Central Park. Following the same route Beatrice had fantasised about hours earlier. With Ava. Not with Suzanne who apparently wanted to talk, but was doing none of it. Probably thinking about her words. Beatrice doesn’t give a damn though, her mission is to get to The Plaza as quickly as humanly possible in this goddamn tight dress. Getting on the lift, taking it to Ava’s floor and getting on her knees.

“You need to apologise to JC. They will point the finger at you and blame you for the incident.”

She wants to laugh because this is so ridiculous. “I don’t give a damn what he does! That man child can say what he wants. I don’t owe him anything. I shouldn’t have to apologise for putting him in his place.”

“It’s not about what he deserves. It’s about the optics of it all. You know this Beatrice, it’s not about what’s right in the court of public opinion.”

“No. I won’t. He was the aggressor and I'm through with taking everything upon myself. I’m so sick and tired of sacrificing my wellbeing for the benefit of everyone else.”

That felt good. More than good. That felt amazing. She’s done. She’s done compartmentalising. She’s done sacrificing. If everyone wanted to move forward it would be on her terms and her terms alone.

“Fine. If you refuse to do as I ask and apologise then you need to be honest with me. That’s how this works. You need to tell me exactly what led to the altercation. Then we can try to make the best of the situation. I will talk to the team and we can try to get ahead of the gossip and JC’s side.” Suzanne’s serious expression turns slightly affectionate as she regards Beatrice for a few seconds before speaking again. “Beatrice… I do know you, you wouldn’t have done that unprovoked. It’s not like you.”

“Why are the events leading up to it important? He laid his hands on me and I defended myself.”

“Beatrice. My job is to protect you, protect the band. Protect your images. Keep you marketable. Let me do my job. I do care, you know?”

“Do you actually care or are you just saying that to coax it out of me?”

“I haven’t lied to you. I haven’t tried to manipulate you. I see your talent. I see the messaging you and the band are willing to bring attention to, in your songs, through living your truths, in embodying Robert Wun’s vision tonight. I was forthright with you from the outset. This is a hard business. It is harsh. But I have faith in you. I… recognise I have been hard on you all, you especially. But I do truly want to help you succeed. So please. Let me.”

Beatrice laughs wryly, “I really want to trust you. You’re already a helluva lot better a manager than Vincent ever was. But call me gunshy given everything that’s happened.”

“Then let me prove it to you. But it’s not just me, Beatrice. You have a hard road ahead of you. The band has a hard road ahead of them. In order for you all to succeed, for you to be a cohesive unit, you will need to let us in. All of us. You can’t do this all by yourself. As much as you want to put the onus on me, you are just as much at fault for the state of your wellbeing, mental and physical. Let us help you, ease the burdens. I will continue to ask difficult things of you but you can talk to me.”

Beatrice is quiet. Suzanne is right. She should have been more open with her friends, the people she considers family. She had gotten in her head and created this mess herself. She had blamed her past as the reason why she couldn’t have her present. She had blamed imaginary shortcomings. Had blamed Ava for all the problems she herself had created.

“Why are we rushing back in the direction of the hotel?”

“I need to get to Ava. I need to talk to her.”

Suzanne lifts an eyebrow at this. “Why do you need to get to Ava Silva?”

“Because…because I’ve–I hurt her. I’ve been hurting her.” She looks down. Saying it out loud has brought back the tears and Suzanne can’t see her like this. Not yet. “I keep hurting the one person that’s been putting me before herself and I can’t let that continue.”

“What are you saying? Be explicit. Are you and Ava -? Since when has this been happening?”

“September.”

“September?!” Suzanne stops walking, but Beatrice continues. It takes several seconds but they’re next to each other again. Suzanne is looking ahead to the hotel, it’s coming closer and closer now. “So she’s the reason. The reason why you have been late to your schedules? Why you’ve been distracted. Beatrice. While that is not, and will continue to not be acceptable, God knows, especially arriving late to the fitting at Robert Wun’s, you should have told me. I–I could have helped. We could have worked something out, or at least worked something out so the album schedule didn’t suffer as a result.” Suzanne sighs. “While I understand the initial flush of love is exhilarating and all encompassing, you also have responsibilities Beatrice, ones you cannot shirk. I am certain Ava did not. That comes from experience and good management.”

“I–I didn’t want to admit it. I didn’t want to acknowledge that’s what was happening. I certainly did not want you finding out.”

“I see.”

“I saw that JC came as her date to the Gala. I know they dated a while back. Was it a jealousy thing? Did he attack you out of jealousy?”

“What do you think? He was drunk, very drunk.”

“And you and Ava, you argued?”

“Yes.”

“What’s her stance in all of this mess?”

“What does that mean?”

“You and her ex had a very public showdown at the Met Gala of all places, Beatrice. Apparently she has been and continues to put you first but you’ve hurt her. And now she’s left the Gala early because of a fight that you’ve had. Where does that leave her?”

“I don’t know!” The tears they’re building up again, because she doesn’t know. She doesn’t know what Ava thinks about all of this. She doesn’t know if Ava will fling her off the balcony window. And at this point Beatrice would let her.

“So what is the plan?”

“To beg for forgiveness.”

“It does seem like that is the only avenue available to you at the moment. I don’t know the specifics and I don’t need to know… but Beatrice? A heartfelt apology and honesty are a good start.” 

They walk on in silence.

“Beatrice?”

Beatrice hums in reply.

“I’m happy for you. But speaking solely as your manager now, I need to find an angle. And fast.”

“He assaulted me. That’s your angle.” Her eyes are fierce as they lock on to Suzanne’s own. “And please, whatever you do, you need to protect Ava…I need to protect her. This had nothing to do with her. This will not come back to her. Are we in agreement?”

Suzanne nods. “I will speak to Emilia.”

Both silent and deep in thought, they continue to power walk in their heels back to the hotel.

—

Rounding the Grand Army Plaza and hurrying across the crosswalk, Beatrice draws back in momentary shock as she sees the rest of the band and Levy piling out of a van at the front entrance of the hotel. They must have left the Gala shortly after them. 

Beatrice is almost upon them now and Camila throws up an arm in greeting and to flag them down, “HI! Wow–wha–Bea, where are you going!? Bea? Bea!” 

Beatrice flings a hand up to wave back at them in greeting but she will not slow down, she is a woman on a mission. 

Faintly, Beatrice hears Suzanne say ‘let her go’ to the others.

Stepping out of the lift on the 19th floor, Beatrice makes a beeline for Ava’s door. Knocking rapidly Beatrice waits impatiently outside. “Ava, it’s me. Beatrice. Please open up.” No answer. Beatrice knocks again. Still nothing. 

Now she begins to pound the door in earnest. Slamming the door in punctuation between each word. “Ava! Please. We need to talk. Please! Just let me speak to you face to face. I didn’t mean it. I didn’t mean any of it. I don’t want to push you away anymore. It is about you! The song is about you! Just give me a chance to do this right.” Imperceptibly, she hears footsteps approach the door from the other side. Leaning her head against the door, Beatrice murmurs a final plea to Ava on the other side, “Please Ava, don’t give up on us.” Falling forward as the door swings inward, Beatrice just manages to arrest her momentum and right herself, “What the f–”, she swallows the rest of the word as she finds herself face to face with Emilia. Not Ava. 

Emilia regards her dispassionately. “Please come in and shut the door before you make a bigger fool of yourself in public, further exacerbating the events of tonight. Or before there’s a noise complaint.” 

Emilia settles down on the couch and imperiously gestures for Beatrice to sit across from her. Beatrice complies, almost on autopilot. Emilia scares her, she reminds her of the nuns at Sunday School. Opening her mouth, she utters “A-Ava?”, eyes roving around to look for her. 

“Ava? Ava has left already. Alice and Ava are headed for the airport and will catch the next flight out. I remain here to pack up this mess.” Every nerve ending is screaming at Beatrice to get up and catch a taxi to JFK. She will offer them a ridiculous tip if they’re willing to break the speed limit. Surely she can catch up . Alas, Beatrice must noticeably twitch because Emilia’s mouth thins and a look very reminiscent of Ava’s crosses her face. “Stay. You are not to go after my niece,” Emilia commands. 

Settling further back into the couch, Emilia watches her silently. Beatrice can feel beads of sweat forming at her brow in the face of Emilia’s imposing demeanour, her posture ramrod straight as she waits for Emilia to say something, do something. Time drags on. Now, she isn’t sure if Emilia’s dissecting her or waiting for her to speak so she stammers out a few incomprehensible words before falling silent again. 

A small curve briefly creases at the corner of Emilia’s mouth and amusement seems to dance across her eyes before it’s gone as quickly as it came. “Tell me about tonight. From the little I have heard or witnessed, this seems out of character for you.”

Briefly Beatrice wonders how much Emilia knows, as both Ava’s manager and aunt. “JC and I spoke, we had a brief argument over some events and when I attempted to extract myself from the situation, JC grabbed me and in self-defense I retaliated. It was not my intention to dislocate his shoulder… I’ve already spoken to Suzanne and she will reach out to you.” 

“Ah. Yes. Suzanne De Fanti. I know her well. You’re lucky to have someone of her caliber in your corner. Although you’re no doubt making her work for her money tonight.” Emilia arches an eyebrow at Beatrice, examining something closely. “I presume from your admission that Suzanne will reach out to me, JC’s involvement and the speed at which Ava and Alice departed for the airport that the unfortunate events tonight had something to do with Ava, yes?” 

Beatrice nods a single nod in reply. “Yes, but I’ve already told Suzanne in unequivocal terms that she needs to do everything in her power to keep Ava’s name out of this. It’s between JC and I.”

“Hmm.” Again, Emilia seems amused.

Sitting forward now, Emilia pins Beatrice with a look. “I am aware that you assisted Ava with parts of her album. I am told, by both Ava and Alice, that you are quite a talented individual. You’re wearing Robert Wun. It takes guts to do what you did tonight on the carpet, to put that kind of messaging out there. Especially bold of a newcomer to have done so. Some…many would call it foolish. All of this to say, that professionally, I look forward to what becomes of you and the Cruciforms. Suzanne will handle tonight, of that I have no doubt.” 

Drawing breath now, Emilia continues “Over the last while, I have seen Ava happier than I have seen her in a long time. She’s smiling genuinely, she’s energetic, she’s enjoyed the process of making this album. Ava’s been healthier, she’s joyful when we talk about work and family stuff. I deduce that I have you, at least on some level, to thank for that. I’m not blind, I see her face when she receives a text from you, when she sneaks off to call someone . But, I also have witnessed a turn these last few months. Ava has been more withdrawn again, she’s less engaged. She turns up but she is not present. She, thankfully, has not lapsed into her old ways. I again suspect I have you to blame for this reversal.”

“You clearly care about Ava. Good. But make no mistake Beatrice Young, Ava has left New York tonight because of you. Beyond what Ava elects to share with me in her own time, I don’t need the details of what has transpired between the two of you up to this point. Tonight, you have hurt my niece and she has chosen to go. You will let her go. If you want to approach Ava again, you will need to regain her trust and fix the situation. Don’t show up again if you are not prepared to do so.”

“I understand.”

“You may go.”

As Beatrice gets up, Emilia’s phone rings. Glancing at the contact, Emilia hurriedly picks up the call. Beatrice can only make out one side of the conversation as she walks towards the door “Alice? Yes. Ok. What? WHAT!? What on earth do you mean she’s–!? Who let her!? LET ME SP-” Emilia seemingly realises that Beatrice is still in the room and has halted at her words, Beatrice’s head swivelling around now to look at Emilia on the phone. “Get out!”, Emilia yells, every word radiating with barely constrained rage. As Ava’s hotel room door shuts behind her, Beatrice can make out angry, rapid fire Spanish spewing forth from Emilia. 

—

Returning to her hotel room, Beatrice halts at the doorway at the sight of the entire band all crammed into the one room. 

All four members are crowded around Camila’s phone, in various states of hovering, crouching and sitting on Camila’s bed, laser focused on whatever is on Camila’s screen. Beatrice can hear a muffled tinny bass sound emitting from the speakers but can’t quite make it out. “Hello?” Beatrice asks, puzzled.

With a jerk of their heads, Mary and Lilith finally register her presence. Both have flushed cheeks and necks and suspiciously neither of them will look directly at her, eyes roaming everywhere, looking past her. Yasmine is seated still, having reached forward to pause whatever is on Camila’s phone and is now regarding her quietly with her head cocked to the side. Clearing her throat, Mary finally musters a “You’re back” while Lilith nods once in greeting. Camila alone seems to be ignoring her presence, utterly transfixed by her phone. 

“Hello? Cam?” Beatrice ventures again.

At that, Camila finally seems to register her arrival, bringing her head up with her mop of curls bouncing freely to look at Beatrice, face splitting into a grin, “OH! Beatrice. You’re back! QUICK, come look. Come, come!” beckoning Beatrice forth.

As Beatrice approaches, Camila swivels the phone around to face her, shifting her hand away from the phone speaker. A still shot of Ava’s face is on the screen, mouth open midway with butterflies surrounding her. “Wha-what’s this?” 

“Ava’s dropped the teaser video for her album! Sadly, the Lord has deemed me not worthy of a gay awakening, yet again. BUT SHE’S SO HOT. ” 

Behind Cam, Lilith drops her head and sighs. 

Camila is restarting the video.

(*)

As the video begins to play Beatrice feels the strange sensation of her stomach dropping straight out of her body, she feels like she’s on the verge of going into cardiac arrest, her face and ears turning red and hot in record time. She can feel and hear her heartbeat thundering away in her eardrum or is that the song’s pulsating beat? No. That’s her heart.

Trying to maintain a modicum of her composure while her libido rockets skyhigh in the presence of her band members, Beatrice presses pause and rapidly backs up a few steps. Both Mary and Lilith are now very determinedly looking at the ceiling.

“What’s happening? Why is this video out? What’s going on!?” Her thoughts go to Emilia upstairs and the state she left her in. Emilia was talking to someone and then yelling in Spanish. To Ava probably. What did Ava do? 

“She suddenly dropped the album!” 

“She dropped her album?”

 “Yeah, the whole thing! She Beyoncéd us!”

No. Ava is doing it again. She’s sacrificing for them…for her. The back of her throat burns as Beatrice struggles against her need to cry. 

They’ve been sitting in the room waiting for Suzanne and Levy and her bandmates are keeping a distance. Beatrice can tell they’re on edge now that excitement of Ava’s surprise album drop has dissipated. All of them are scrolling through their socials, biting their nails, their lips. Lilith and Mary are pacing, looking up every so often in her direction. She is standing by the window, gaze occasionally landing on the dark expanse that is Central Park. She is honestly quite surprised with herself given the circumstances. A weird sense of calm has taken over her, not resignation but relief. 

“...shouldn’t touch women without permission, asshole!” Camila’s voice burst through her phone. She looks in Beatrice’s direction apologetically, shutting it quickly. “I’m sorry, it autoplayed.”

“It’s fine,” She replies, not bothered. She has seen the videos of the flip already, all from different angles, all the same gasps, all the same reactions.

“Are we going to talk about this or are we just going to wait for Suzanne to reprimand us?” It’s Lilith who speaks up, breaking the silence that has taken over the small room, she’s remarkably kind in her delivery.

“Suzanne and Levy are trying to manage the situation I’ve caused, it’s best if we just wait for them.”

Mary is at Lilith’s side. “We’re a band, we’re in this together, you know this Beatrice.”

“Yeah, Bea whatever happens this is our problem too,” Camila sits up on the bed, dress wrinkling under her.

Her arms fall lightly to her sides, “I don’t regret what I did.”

Yasmine comes to sit by Camila, “Good. We wouldn’t forgive you if you did. He probably deserved it. It’s not like you to do something like that.”

They’re all watching her now. All concerned but also giving her space.

“You need to be honest with us though, before Suzanne and Levy get here. We need to be on the same page.” Lilith is talking again with the same kind tone, “We need to protect you.”

“I apprecia–”

“Beatrice, come on.” Mary says, a little irritated.

Yasmine nods, “Share this–whatever it is with us.”

“Yeah, Bea. Come,” Camila pats the other side of the bed, urging her to them and she goes. She sits. They all surround her now waiting.

“It’s…it was because of Ava.”

“OH MY GOD!”

“Camila shush!”

“I FUCKING KNEW IT!”

“CAMILA! Be quiet!”

“You little shit! Why did you keep this from us!? FROM ME?!”

“Camila, it was obvious to anyone with eyes.”

“What!?”

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure I was the first to figure it out,” Mary says a bit arrogantly shoving at Camila’s shoulder. “When we found Beatrice drunk at the studio.”

“WHAT?!”

“Oh shit?” Lilith ignores Camila’s outburst, “I figured it out at the diner. There was no way Beatrice would do such a pathetic thing in a public setting.”

“Oh my God! The music video shoot!” Camila grabs Beatrice's hands, turning her to face her. Camila’s eyes are roaming hers like an excited cavoodle with zero brain cells.“That night! You didn’t come to the room. Were you with Ava?”

“Yes.” Her cheeks begin to heat with the insinuation and everyone must notice because they all have devilish looking smiles on their faces. 

“Oh my God!” Camila says again, as if God has anything to do with it. “Well, at least I wasn’t the last one to figure it out then. I put the pieces together this morning. Yasmine did you know?!”

“I knew.” Yasmine says casually, wiggling on the bed, a bit far too amused with the reveal, “Since the Grammys. She came in asking for musical theater tickets, Beatrice doesn’t like musicals. It was suspicious behavior to say the least. Did you guys really not notice the amount of sneaking around she was doing, she thinks she’s sneaky but she really isn’t. Also, Beatrice is never on her phone and there was a dramatic spike in her phone usage since October. You guys need to be more observant.”

Camila is standing now, “I was the last to notice?!” Her eyes have popped out of their sockets in a hilarious yet alarming way.

The hotel room door opens and Suzanne steps inside followed closely behind by Levy who is focused on his phone, typing rapidly. Suzanne regards them for a few seconds before bringing her hands up, ushering them into a cluster by the bed again, where they all stand and sit in various states of anticipation.

“A server uploaded a clip right before the flip clearly showing that JC is the one to grab Beatrice’s hand first. We reached out to them and they were more than happy to send us the entire video. We can’t hear what’s being said, but it’s evident JC is the aggressor and instigated the situation.”

“Levy is reaching out to JC’s publicists now and we are releasing a statement that Beatrice is unequivocally not at fault here.”

An immediate release is heard and felt across the room as the members and Beatrice herself exhales. This is good. This is exactly what they needed. Surely JC will need to admit fault and apologise for his actions lest his career go up in flames for being seen to be aggressive towards women.

—

It’s close to 4 am by the time everyone else departs her and Camila’s room. She’s just laying in her bed attempting to get an ounce of sleep but the night’s events just keep cycling through her mind. And at this point Beatrice isn’t sure what to do except just laying there thinking about everything nonstop.

She reaches for her phone and headphones, maneuvers her way through Spotify and finds Ava’s album. The red cover is confronting and difficult to look away from so she hits play, shuts her phone’s screen and the album begins. 

Ava’s voice subsumes her thoughts. Months of listening to parts of this album come back all at once. Moments where she snuck away from her duties, hours where she sat beside Ava in the studio moving things around in programs and rushing to play an instrument because ‘you need to add this here’ followed by Ava’s ‘I already thought of that I was just too lazy to get up’ and then getting up to do it for her. And it’s terrifying to truly think about how in sync they’ve been since they met. How everything had come so naturally to them. How love had come so naturally.

Beatrice listens to the entire album in one go. Lyrics catch her attention here and there but the main focus is Ava and her multifaceted voice and all the emotions imbued. She gets to what appears to be a simple ballad. It almost sounds like a Disney song. There’s a build up and then the final words are among the few she can understand. It’s the word hentai over and over and over again.

That can't be right. She grabs her phone and looks at the song’s name ‘HENTAI’. She heard correctly. The lyrics haven’t been uploaded yet, she can’t even try Google translate. Surely, people are discussing the album. She jumps on Reddit. A live page has been created by Ava’s fandom out of pure panic. Fans are losing their minds due to the surprise drop and the thoughts are scattered. She types in the naughty word and the comments inundate her. 

“Wow Hentai, someone’s horny.”

“Is Hetai a masturbation song?”

“I didn’t think I needed hentai in my life.”

“¿Vamos a hablar de lo sexy que es esta canción?”

“Someone let Ava know she’s a little frisky here.”

“Heeeeeeeeennnnntaaaaaaaaiiiiiiiii!!!!!”

“Okay, but who does Ava want to eat out?!”

EAT OUT?

She keeps scrolling, reading through every comment, someone has got to have translated it by now or at least written something rough she can begin to wrap her mind around. After minutes of horny comments she has found the holy grail. 

(*)

Pero mírate, no pienses más, na' que pensar

(But look at you, don’t think about it, there’s nothing left to think about)

Tan rico no puede ser, de cuero na', pero estoy encuera'

(It can’t be that delicious, no more bitching because I’m bare for you)

Yo la batí, hasta que se montó

(I started myself off right to the edge)

Segundo es chingarte, lo primero e' Dios

(I’ll fuck you second but first comes God [her orgasm])

So, so, so good, so, so, so good

So, so, so good

So good

Mmm

Bebé, te quiero comer 

(Baby, I want to eat you out)

Ya

(Now)

Beatrice’s heart is about to break through her chest a la the facehugger from Alien. Now she can’t stop listening. The song is on repeat. Over and over. Ava’s voice consuming her thoughts. The lyrics dance in her mind conjuring thoughts she has suppressed for months. Thoughts she hasn’t allowed herself to have about Ava, but Ava has very clearly had about her. Enough to write a dirty song about it.

A pillow makes contact with her face twice, “YOU NEED TO STOP!” It’s Camila, hair in a state of disarray, heavy bags under her eyes. “She wants to eat you out, okay! Now, please either move past the song or go to sleep because I can’t sleep with you blasting that on repeat and knowing who the song is about. So for the sake of our friendship I’m going to go back to bed and you’re going to skip the song and we’re never going to speak about this ever again!”

Mmm, hentai

—

Ava Silva Postpones Schedules as Drinking Controversy Unfolds

The Cruciforms’ New Hit Takes Over the Charts—A Global Sensation!

Too Much to Handle? Ava Silva Caught in Late Night Scandal, Events Scrapped

Music History Made: The Cruciforms’ Latest Single “Somebody Else” Smashes Streaming Records

Pop Star’s Wild Night Out Leads to Delayed Appearance and Fan Outrage

Critics and Fans Agree—The Cruciforms Latest Release Is a Game-Changer

Rehab Rumors Swirl as Ava Silva Pushes Back Tour Dates

A New Era Begins: The Cruciforms' Chart-Topping Single Defines a Generation

Out of Control! Ava Silva’s Diva Attitude Escalates as She Lashes Out at Team

The Cruciforms Just Dropped a Classic—Their New Song Is an Instant Hit

—

Ava spots Alice the moment she emerges into the open bar outside. The night is still early as music from the hired DJ blasts around the pool area of the hotel. Ava and her team are staying at Continuum, one of the many hotels in Ocean Drive, Miami. Ava’s here to start promoting her second single, a more tropical beach ready song. Miami is one of their first stops along the Americas as the team undertakes a massive country hopping tour for the marketing of the song.

The music video has wrapped today and she has been given the night to herself. A freedom that she has too willingly taken advantage of. She grips her hand tighter around the highball glass, walking past various bodies dancing along the edge of the pool and inside it. If she can keep her distance from Alice then she can keep drinking. She can keep distracting herself. She can’t and won’t go into her hotel room sober. She would say she's at least tipsy, but the night is young and the bartender likes her. 

“What are you doing?!” Alice hisses from across the pool bumping into various undressed wet bodies.

Ava increases her pace, the sarong wrapped around her bikini flapping along with her movements. She’s small and she can hide behind bodies. She can do this. She can get away from Alice . And she does, but they all just assume she wants to dance and move around her, swinging their hips, they’re all also heavily inebriated.

(*)

Pásame la botella

(Pass the bottle)

Voy a beber en nombre de ella

(I’m going to drink in her name)

Alice grips her arm and yanks her so ferociously that her drink spills on the ground. It’s enough of a distraction for Ava to scurry off in the direction of the bar, Alice hot on her tail. “Ava! Ava for crying out loud!”

She’s disorientated by the flashing lights reflecting on the pool and the hotel's outside walls, but it’s fine she can see the bottles from here, she’s heading in the right direction. Sort of . She pushes between a couple who scowl down at her, she awards them with a shrug and a disgusted look before sticking out her tongue at them. Love sucks, no one should fall in love. It’s not worth it.

The bartender, a guy in his 30’s spots her right away already pouring another drink for her. He slides the drink into her hand suggestively and she spins away. NOPE . Beatrice’s pouty face comes to her mind then and her heart twinges and she wants to die because she’s so stupidly in love with this asshole that she can’t function. And all she wants to do is unblock her and call her, but she won’t. She won’t. SHE WON’T.

“AVA!” Alice has found her…again.

Before Alice can begin her tirade she opens her mouth and drunkenly sings along with the song, “ Hay algo que quiero deciiiiiiir esto no me puede estar pasando a mííííííí. La chica que quería para mííííííí es traicionera y me ha quemado hasta moooooorir!!!! ”

(There’s something I want to say, this can’t be happening to me. The girl that I wanted for myself is treacherous and has burned me to death!!!!) 

“Ava come to bed, you know this isn’t healthy.” Alice says, trying but failing to grab at her glass. She drinks from her cup, head bobbing along to the music. The bartender taps her shoulder asking if she wants a refill, she holds the glass out to him and he’s about to pour from the rum bottle when Alice intersects, grabbing the bottle herself. “Scram!” And he does.

Ava quickly drinks from the half empty cup before Alice can grab it again. “ Todo lo que le brindé…le di mi amor y mi cariño también, lo que ella me pedía se lo daba también!!! ” 

(Everything I gave her…I gave her my love and affection too, whatever she asked for I gave her too!!!”

Alice sighs next to her, loud enough to be heard over the music. Alice raises the rum bottle above her head and pours rum into her own mouth. “Fuck it. I tried. Love sucks”. Alice then pours rum into Ava’s waiting mouth. 

And that’s Ava’s cue for winning the argument. She walks past Alice to the dancing crowd gathered in front of the DJ booth.

Todos los que han sido traicionados

(All those who have been betrayed)

Y con la botella se han desahogado

(And with a bottle let off some steam)

A la cuenta de tres quiero ver todo el mundo con el coro

(On the count of three I want to hear everyone with the chorus)

One! 

Two!

EEEH AAHHH!

—

“Are we all watching the same video?? This is NOT just acting—Beatrice and Ava have insane chemistry! I’m shipping them SO hard!!”

“Why does everything have to be about pushing an agenda these days? Just make music and leave politics out of it.”

“The tension, the glances, the HAND TOUCHING… they knew exactly what they were doing with this one.”

“I miss when music was just about the music. Now it’s all about shock value.

“Y’ALL. That moment at 2:37??? I had to pause and collect myself. They are literally soulmates.”

“They’re obviously just queerbaiting. If they were actually together, they’d have said something by now.”

“I came for the music, I stayed for the romantic drama they just dropped on us. I NEED ANSWERS.”

“Ava is ruining her image with this. She didn’t need to go there.”

“They had NO business making this video this intense. I need to lie down.”

“First Ava changes her sound, now she’s pulling this stunt? I’m done supporting her.”

—

It’s Ava's birthday and she’s blocked. She’s been blocked since that night. She’s starting to get desperate. Their schedules aren’t aligning and she is considering doing something crazy like stalking her or getting on a plane to Ava. The schedule Ava had shared is now useless as everything has shifted with the sudden release of her album. Ava has been on the other side of the world for two months now promoting her new single and they’re here in Washington, D.C. and this is the closest she’s been to Ava. They’ve just finished filming a performance for Tiny Desk, which will be out once the album releases in two weeks. 

Camila hasn’t been much help either, ‘I can’t risk my friendship with Ava, Bea.’ ‘What about our friendship?’ ‘We survived being teenagers together, we can survive this!’. And all she can do is spy on Ava’s Instagram for all of five seconds before Zuckerberg forces her to make an account. 

Levy’s phone is on the table across from her and she is staring at it hard. He must have Alice’s number. She can call Alice and maybe get through to Ava. Alice will probably hang up on her though, she has to be strategic with what she says. She probably has only one good sentence before Alice tears her a new one and hangs up. That’s if Levy’s password is easy enough to crack. She grabs the phone, careful not to bring attention to herself as she steps out of the office. She follows the signs for the emergency exit and arrives at the emergency stairwell. 

Of course Levy has a display picture of himself on his work phone. The password is four numbers. She thinks back to their conversations for any kind of reference to numbers or dates that he is partial to, but she’s drawing a blank. Levy is not a complex individual, she can do this. 

1234

No.

1111

No.

She has ten tries and then the phone will lock itself.

0000

It unlocks. Hah. Idiot . She’s in. She madly taps the contact app and finds Alice’s name easily. There’s an angry emoji and a water gun next to her name. She hits the number and brings the phone to her ear. It’s ringing. It’s ringing…what does she say…what does she say….

Alice picks up, “I thought I told you not to be a nuisance.” She’s silent long enough for Alice to speak again, “Oh wow, did someone finally cut off your tongue? Tell me who, I’m going to send them an edible basket.”

“I fucked up, Alice. Please don’t hang up on me. It’s Ava’s birthday and all I want to do is say hi and ask her how her day is. And I know that she’s angry and you’re angry and I know you want to end the call, please don’t.” The line is quiet, but at least Alice is listening. “I know you probably won't let me speak to her so please just tell her I called. That I wanted to wish her a happy birthday and that I’m trying to get my shit together, okay?”

“Did Levy let you use this phone?”

“No, I kind of ran off with it. I’m desperate.”

“Beatrice. I don’t appreciate you calling me like this. You’re putting me in a difficult spot. I’m already blurring the lines between friendship and work.”

“I know. I know–I’m sorry I just… I don’t know what to do. I don’t want Ava to think I’ve forgotten about her or-or that I’m moving on, because that is such an impossibility. It’s just not possible.”

“She’s here.”

“She is?”

“Yes.”

“Can I–can I speak with her?”

“No.”

“...A–Alice,” Her voice breaks.

“Ava…” Alice is speaking away from the phone, “Beatrice–” There’s rustling and she can’t make out what’s being said but she knows that voice, it’s Ava’s voice. “Ava says thank you. And has asked me to remind you to drink some water.”

“Alice–”

“I’m going to hang up now, Beatrice. Don’t do this again. And just so we’re clear, I am going to let Levy know what you’ve done. And if this happens again I’m going to bury both of you alive with live mice.”

—

August 3rd, Grant Park, Chicago 

(*)

I'm losing myself

In the darkness of the world

Catch me before I fall

Ava hears Beatrice’s voice hauntingly echo across the festival grounds with Lilith’s light guitar picking to accompany it and Yasmine adding to the mood with her cymbals. As she pushes through the crowd to get closer, she can see the other band members waiting for their cue to start. Alice grips her hand following along, they’re managing to cut through the crowd. The band are all wearing matching form fitting maroon suits with loose long bow around their collars.

Saving myself

Is all I really know

Seen it, been done before

The late afternoon sun bounces off her sunglasses easily as the sweaty bodies bump, bounce and nudge into her, all jumping in anticipation. Yasmine’s drum begins to cue the beat and Beatrice starts to hop in place along with the tempo. Lilith’s guitar intensifies followed by Mary and Camila.

I'm a dynasty

The pain in my vein is hereditary

Dynasty

Running in my bloodstream, my bloodstream

Dynasty

And if that's all that I'm gonna be

Won't you break the chain with me?

“Lollapalooza are you ready? Let’s GO!” Beatrice speaks into her microphone, the stand adorned with red carnations. 

Beatrice is a vision of perfection, composed and confident. The size of the crowd is no joke either. There’s probably close to 100,000 people here right now. All bobbing along to the Cruciforms.

Ava shouldn’t be here. She knows this. Even hearing Beatrice is painful, but simultaneously it’s filling her with all sorts of happy emotions. She knows Beatrice is trying, has been trying. That even in Emilia’s rage after releasing the album she spoke well of Beatrice. Had assured her that Beatrice had come to the hotel room in a state of agitation but also determined to get to her, to get to Ava. 

She’s conflicted. She was meant to do a clean cut that night and never be in Beatrice’s orbit again. She can’t bring herself to.

“Ava!” Alice shouts into her ear. 

“WHAT!”

“Levy! Levy just called and said he can get us closer!”

“I–I don’t think I should!” She shakes her head. She had promised herself just this. Not much closer. “This is okay!”

“He’s just at the side there!” Alice points to the left side of the stage where a couple of crew members are gathered, plus Levy who has children’s noise cancelling headphones on and doesn’t seem to be having a good time. “It’ll be safe for us, and she can’t see us from there. She’ll be distracted!”

Ava nods more for her own confirmation than Alice, “Okay! Yeah, okay.”

They continue into the deep parts of the crowd which is now getting more difficult to maneuver through. Ava knows that Alice is working those pointy elbows though because the crowd is parting like the Red Sea in front of them. 

Levy spots them, frantically stepping off the platform and rushing to them. “Let them through, they're with me!” He yells at the security guard who just shrugs like he wasn’t going to protest it to begin with.

I'm gonna take the throne this time

All the words all mine, all mine

It's been way too long, too far

Too gone, to carry on

“Hi Levy, eat any children today?” Alice asks, gripping his earphones and releasing them in one go, slamming them back into his ears.

“Okay, first of all rude. I can have you removed if I wanted to,” He jabs Alice’s shoulder several times coinciding with the beat of the music. “AVA! Doesn’t your show start afterwards, shouldn’t you be getting ready?” His pulse point at his neck is noticeably pulsating, intensifying as if it’s also his responsibility to get her on that stage tonight.

Beatrice is now walking across the stage microphone in hand. Eyes laser focused on the crowd in front of her. “Here we go!”

Mother and father, you gave me life

I nearly gave it away for the sake of my sanity

Hurting inside, no end in sight

Passing it down, I'm not losing this fight

Mother and father, I know you were raised differently

Fighting about money and his infidelity

Now it's my time to make things right

And if I fail, then I am my dynasty!

Lilith walks to Beatrice then and the guitar solo begins as Beatrice harmonises along with the guitar. 

And Ava. She wants to reply, but Beatrice is distracting. Everything is distracting. She can hear Alice answer for her as the final chorus ends with a sustained note and the crowd erupts into screams. Beatrice smiles into the crowd and an intense feeling bursts into her heart. Pride. To see Beatrice so confident and in her element makes Ava feel the emotion just as fiercely as Beatrice does.

Cruciforms!

Cruciforms!

Cruciforms!

(*)

“Lollapalooza,” Beatrice shakes her head, mystified by the reception, eye smile on full display. “I said ‘Lollapalooza!’” The crowd breaks into cheers again as Beatrice holds the microphone out to them. “Are you ready to dance? Are you ready to cry? Are you ready to scream?!” The reply back is deafening. “Shhhh shhhhh shhhhh shhhh shhhhuuuuushhhhh! I said Shut. The. Fuck. Up!”

Lilith began to strum the strings of her guitar.

“I said Shut! The! Fuck! Up!” This time the crowd chanted along with Beatrice.

SHUT THE FUCK UP!

SHUT THE FUCK UP!

SHUT THE FUCK UP!

“LOUDER!” Beatrice’s voice cracks as she yells.

SHUT THE FUCK UP!!!!!!!!!

“LET’S GO!” Yasmine began to thrash at the drums as the heavy metal sound took over the festival. The members banged their heads along with the beat of the drum.

I want to know, I want to know!

Silence finally in my head

But it's too late, you already left

You're preaching even though I'm dead

You're like the first time under my pride

How come you don't expect me

To get mad when I'm angry?

You've never seen it though I know I'm not the only one

How come you don't respect me?

Expecting fantasies

Leave our reality, why don't you just sit down

The second verse comes quickly and then it’s the chorus again. “SING IT!” Beatrice holds the microphone up to the crowd as they sing along with the pre-chorus, her middle finger up to them. 

Shut the fuck up, shut the fuck up!

Shut the fuck up, shut the fuck up!

Shut the fuck up, shut the fuck up!

Shut the fuck up, shut the fuck up!

Shut the fuck up, shut the fuck up!

Shut the fuck up, shut the fuck up!

Shut the fuck up, shut the fuck up!

Have you ever thought about taping your big mouth shut?

'Cause I have, many times, many times

Beatrice does a cute dance on stage to contrast the significance of the lyrics as Camila plays along on keys with a little jingle. “SING IT!” She holds the microphone to the crowd again who are all too happy to join in as the words come on to the screen behind Beatrice.

Have you ever thought about taping your big mouth shut?

'Cause I have, many times, many times!!

Beatrice’s voice drops into a growl as she walks to each side of the stage, face adorned by an angry glare, “Like the first time, like the first time, like the first time, like the first time, like the first time, like the first time, like the first tiiiiiiiiiiiime aaaaaaaaaaaah!” 

Alice taps her shoulder as Beatrice’s final belt encompasses the entire field. “Not much longer.” She nods, but her attention goes back to Beatrice as she screams along with Lilith and applause comes their way again. 

After a few minutes of dialogue between Beatrice and the audience, the instrument tuner excuses himself as he passes by Ava with an black acoustic Gibson guitar in hand. He helps sling it across Beatrice's shoulder as she puts the microphone back atop the decorated stand. 

“I was wondering if we could slow it down for a few minutes.” Beatrice takes a pick from the stand, “I know the album is out and we’re all really excited about it and you guys are really excited about it. There’s a song that's not on the album, but I want to share it because it has helped me cope with everything these last three months. I’ve been doing a lot of soul searching of sorts, therapy mainly. If you look at my phone it may appear like I’m dating my therapist at this point.” She laughs at her own self-deprecating joke and Ava can’t help but find it endearing. “Writing music has always been a way of dealing with my feelings. I wrote this song for a young Beatrice who never had a chance to shine. I hope that I can begin to do right by her from now on. And that I can do right by someone I’ve hurt, who deserves so much more from me. If you’re listening I want you to know that everything you said is the truth, I refuse to deny it any further.” Beatrice takes a big breath and closes her eyes, “Anyways, this is ‘ Phantom ’.”

Beatrice strums and sings along to the first verse of the song.

(*)

Once upon a time

There was a girl, pleasing the world

Dying to be liked, looking for love

Wanting to trust

Ava is reeling from Beatrice’s easy admission that she’s been attending therapy.

Breaking off pieces, things started to change

I've been trying to find her since, she gave a little too much away

Ava’s heart thuds uncomfortably in her chest, pained at the thought of the little girl in the photo at Beatrice's apartment, her cheeky smile before the world and its expectations began to weigh on her. 

Before Beatrice began to put up a front to appease her family, everyone around her.

If I could talk to you, I'd tell you not to rush

You're good enough

You don't have to lose, what makes you you

Still got some growing to do

Ava has to physically shut her eyes and bow her head down in the moment, letting the brutal honesty of Beatrice’s lyrics wash over her. Beatrice plaintively telling her younger and current self that she is worthy.

When did we get so estranged

Haunted by the way I've changed

Claiming back the pieces of me that I've lost

Reaching in and hoping you're still, waiting by the windowsill

I'd bring you back to us

Now raising her head towards the sky, Ava is actively holding back the tears burning at her eyes. Pushing her sunglasses up, she furiously brushes at her eyes and nose. 

I was wrong to assume, I would ever outgrow you

I need you now, I need you close

How do you hold a ghost?

Inner child, come back to me, I want to tell you that I'm sorry

I'm sorry

As Lilith’s guitar solo starts, it all happens so quickly. Ava’s eyes meet Beatrice’s. Before she knows it, Beatrice has dashed in her direction. A panicked sort of expression on her face breaking her performance persona, like she hadn’t expected Ava to be there and is terrified of her disappearing. And there’s no stopping her, she’s slinging the guitar to her back, the song forgotten. Ava needs to do something, Beatrice is leaving the stage and this can’t happen, that’s not what's required of them.

The moment is so long that Camila has turned in their direction, eyes going back to Lilith prompting her to continue the solo and both Mary and Yasmine are looking at Beatrice confused. Ava raises her hands in front of her, lightly patting the air there so that Beatrice understands what she means, but she doesn't stop; she's resolute, she's about to take the steps down to Ava.

Ava shakes her head and mouths “No.” And Beatrice stops, eyes searching hers and eyebrows pulled into a frown. Ava stands absolutely still, hands in front of her. Beatrice nods as if broken from a trance, eyes lingering on her before reluctantly turning back to the stage, but not without looking back once more, just to check if Ava is still there.

Beatrice faces the audience only for a moment, the mask still broken, but she begins to strum again, the members taking her cue to continue the song. She turns the microphone on the stand towards Ava, the crowd abandoned. 

I don't want to do this without you

I don't want to do this if you're just a ghost in the night

I tried everything to fill up the void that you left me with

My phantom

She nods and Beatrice does the same, the significance of the charged moment sits between them. Beatrice turns back to the crowd, the mask taking over again. Ava whirls to Alice who is scream-whispering into Levy's ear conspiratorially, like they’re up to something. 

“Let’s go,” is all she says before gripping Alice’s arm and heading back into the crowd as The Cruciforms finish the song. 

Don't want to do this without you

Don't want to do this if you're locked away in my mind

I tried everything to fill up the void that you left me with

My phantom

—

Night has descended upon the festival grounds by the time Beatrice and the band make it to Ava’s stage. Levy had rushed ahead to safeguard spaces near the front of the expansive grounds, something that should be suspicious given that he has hated every second of today, hates all the sweaty smelly bodies gyrating in his vicinity and the loud music. They’re all with her though, for support. Everyone is here to support her and Ava except Camila, who is here for purely selfish reasons.

When they reach Levy he points at her head judgmentally. “Ava likes it,” is all she says. She has the reindeer antlers on, this is for Ava. He pats her on the back encouragingly.

The stage is dark apart from the purple screen spanning across the raised platform. The crowd has had intermittent moments of pure chaotic screaming followed by chants of Ava’s name. All that can be heard is white noise coming from all the speakers spread across the festival grounds. 

“I can be calm.” Camila who is beside her has jumped at every noise in anticipation. She’s spreading her time between shouting into Yasmine’s ear to pulling Beatrice’s arm. “Come on you stupid delayed start!”

The purple screen shifts slightly catching everyone’s attention and the cheers erupt again. It begins to spaz more frequently now as the white noise changes to something deeper, more monstrous sounding. A motorcycle's noise cuts across the speakers and a flash spreads across the stage, making it appear as if the vehicle has sped by.

“Oh my God!” Camila yells, pulling on her hand again. 

Beatrice’s heart begins to pulsate in her chest. The screen goes black as more motorcycle noises are followed by more flashes of light. Then, a noise that sounds jarring, almost like metallic ocean waves crashing into rocks. Dancers emerge from backstage all wearing white glowing motorcycle helmets, the only indication of movement in the otherwise black void that is the stage. They stand at the dead centre, arms crossed menacingly. The noise continues to get louder and LOUDER.

Beatrice can see a different style helmet arrive at the back of the dancers. It’s Ava, she’s sure of it. Everyone on stage twists their heads left to right then they begin to move forward, shoulders dragging up and down with each step. 

The speakers blare, noise so loud that she can’t even distinguish what she’s hearing anymore. And suddenly the dancers part at the centre as the lights pulsate, half left and half right, making Ava the focal point. She’s wearing a full body black Lycra suit, a white corset-like leather vest, and knee length high heel boots. The crowd absolutely loses their minds and she can’t even distinguish between the screaming and the noise of the concert at this point. Camila to her left has ascended, trying to crawl up Beatrice’s shoulder for more height. 

A monotone drone takes over the speakers as Ava begins to slowly walk to the front of the stage, hands coming to the helmet around her head, removing it in one smooth motion. She looks down and smiles as ‘Saoko’ begins to play. She steps up to the last two dancers on each side, eyes piercing the crowd in front of her. There’s no expression on her face as confidence emanates out of her. 

Beatrice has never seen Ava command the stage like this, as if it’s made for her, purely constructed for her presence and her presence alone. This is on another level, left behind are the flamenco standards and moderate pop elements. She had heard the album and all its experimental nature, and even at the time of its conception she hadn’t truly appreciated it enough. She’s truly amazing .

(*)

Ava’s piercing eyes break its gaze upon the audience for only a moment as she hands the helmet to the dancer on the left, bringing the microphone to her mouth and she begins to sing, “ Chica, ¿qué dices? Hey ! ”. She spreads her arms out anticipating the audience's replies of ‘Saoko, papi, saoko’. “Chicago, ¿qué dices?! ” 

Saoko, papi, saoko!

The crowd replies in much the same way as Ava continues to interact with them, making her way across the stage and then going back to the middle in line with her dancers and begins to rap all while following a difficult choreography. 

Cuando es de noche en el cielo

(When it’s night time in the sky)

Y se vuelve de día, ya to' eso cambió

(And it turns into day, now everything has changed)

Cuando el caballo entra a Troya

(When the horse enters Troy)

Tú te confías y ardió, uh, no

(You got cocky and it burns, uh, no)

Every time Ava sings the audience screams back at her with such an intensity that Beatrice can feel the goosebumps erupt all over her skin. And all at once she gets it. To be fair she has been getting it, she knows just how powerful of a performer Ava is, but this is incredible. She’s pretty sure if her jaw wasn’t currently attached by an intricate muscular and tendon mixture it would be on the dirt covered festival ground below her. This Ava is spellbinding to behold. A natural artist.

The album’s reception has been unbelievable. Both critics and fans alike praising it endlessly, lauding every second of it. Camila has had it on repeat the last three months (the only exception being the one song… Mmm, hentai ) and she knew it had remained in the number one spot in every chart since its release. Their own album trailing closely behind. 

She whips her head downwards, examining her shoes during the jazz section of the song because what Ava is doing is whipping everyone in the crowd into a frenzy, into a state of being Beatrice would rather not think about. Doesn’t want to acknowledge just how many people are thinking the same thoughts she is. 

Si ere' la pámpara, nada te… 

…pue' parar!

(If you’re the best, nothing can…)

(...stop you!)

Si ere' la pámpara, nada te…

…pue' parar!

(If you’re the best, nothing can…)

(...stop you!)

Ava’s set is a mixture of new and old sounds, flawlessly compiled to keep the energy high. It’s halfway through the song list that Ava begins to show signs of fatigue, but she doesn’t let it bother her, she continues to dance just as intensely as the background dancers and her voice, to Beatrice’s knowledge, has not wavered once. Her hair is the only sign of the immense activity happening on stage with sweat pulling at the roots of Ava’s shoulder length hair. She has pushed her hair multiple times to different sides, moving it off her face but the amount of movement just keeps bouncing it back. 

Ava is having fun as well, she’s smiling joyously and is in her element, but Beatrice knows, deep inside Ava must be exhausted. When the current song ends she stands in place, chest rising and falling with a great deal of effort. The dancers around her are holding their spots right hand stretched to the side, fingers delicate. Ava mirrors them, eyes fixated on the crowd. Her expression once lively changes to something more serious. 

A song begins as the dancers step away, Beatrice doesn’t recognise this song, it’s not on the album, it’s not a release she knows. One of the dancers brings a microphone stand for Ava and she places her microphone into it. Before the dancer goes he hands her something. Beatrice needs to look at the immense screens on either side of the stage to make out what it is. 

It’s a bracelet. Ava puts it on without much preamble as the camera focuses on her face instead. Her left hand comes forward as the song starts, and she begins to do a choreographed sort of clap that sounds reminiscent of a heartbeat. Beatrice can see it now, it’s a silver bracelet with what should be two charms hanging from it, but she knows exactly what the charms are, they’re the two broken pieces of her amber flower. The elation she feels is palpable. She’s turned their broken hair tie into something beautiful.

(*)

El que quiero no me quiere como quiero que me quiera

(Who I love doesn’t love me how I want them to love me)

Hoy termina la condena

(This imprisonment ends today)

Me diviertes, maybe tú eres el que me libera

(You delight me, maybe you’re who frees me)

Y es que hoy es carnaval

(And today is carnival)

Yo soy de aquí y tú eres de allá

(I’m from here and you’re from there)

Lo diré en inglés y me entenderás, mmh

(I’ll say it in English so you’ll understand me)

Camila’s mouth is ajar as she turns towards Beatrice and looks at her. 

Ava turns to her left facing the camera there rather than the audience and dancers stand behind her doing a simple choreography as she moves her hand again. This is intentional. Ava has planned this. She deliberately chose to put on the bracelet and show it on screen for Beatrice to see. 

I don't need honesty

Baby, lie like you love me, lie like you love me

Cover me in a dream

I'll be yours or fantasy

Who needs the honesty?

Baby, lie like you love me, lie like you love me

Maybe at the end

It becomes real enough for me

Beatrice feels a sinking feeling take over her. Oh no.

When did Ava write this? What is Ava saying? Beatrice is confused, is this a happy song? Ava is wearing a bracelet with their flower and yet… Is this a sad song? 

Ay, dame esa, esa pulsera de flores

(Oh, give me that, that flower bracelet)

Me la pondré en la muñeca

(I’ll put it on my wrist)

Cuando despierte, así yo lo sabré

(When I wake up, that way I’ll know)

Así yo lo sabré, yo sabré que fue real

(That way I’ll know, I’ll know it was real)

Será mi tótem, lo sabes tú y nadie más

(It’ll be my totem, you will know, but no one else will)

Camila grabs her wrist so tightly and shakes it in the air to get her attention all while pointing at her jade hair tie, “IT IS ABOUT YOU!” Camila says shooting her a dirty look.

“Is it a happy or sad song?!”

“What do you think, you idiot!” Camila releases her hand roughly. “You’ve fucked up big time!”

She starts to panic as the final chorus rings around the festival solidifying the meaning of the song. Ava is singing about unrequited love, where she’s asking Beatrice to love her reciprocally. This isn’t right. This is not how Ava should feel. Ava shouldn’t feel this vulnerable. She shouldn’t feel like Beatrice doesn’t return her love, that Ava just wants to make believe that she does. And yet Beatrice doesn’t blame her because she too would doubt their love given her actions. 

The bracelet represents a piece of their love that she wears to keep their feelings alive, hoping or begging Beatrice to wear hers as well.  

The song ends and the crowd goes wild having just heard the song for the very first time. 

“You guys liked that one?” Ava speaks into the microphone when there’s a lull in the cheers, which ends up causing even more screams. Beatrice feels like she’s choking from the mounting pain and panic welling up inside of her. Levy pats her head awkwardly. Ava is handed a bottle of water. She drinks from it as the dancers leave the stage. The bottle is set down somewhere on the side of the stage as Ava walks back to the very front at the dead center. “We’ve come to the part of the night where I take requests.”

Everyone starts screaming all at once, song titles are thrown around with abandon, even Camila and Yasmine join in. Ava’s head bounces from person to person, in-ears off at her shoulders. She smiles a few times, but doesn’t seem to like any of the suggestions.

“Hero? The Spanish version is better, I’ll do the Spanish one.” The crowd cheers recognising the song. Ava turns to her pianist who just nods in return. 

Ava sits down on the stage and crosses her legs, putting her in-ears in again as the piano begins to play.

(*)

Si una vez yo pudiera llegar a erizar de frio tu piel

(If I can once more make your skin erupt with goosebumps)

A quemar, que se yo… tu boca y morirme alli despues

(to burn, I don't know… your lips and die there afterwards)

Ava’s eyes are closed as she sings the ballad. The stage has dimmed and there’s a singular spotlight on her. Everyone around Beatrice has popped out their phones and turned the flashlight on, arms swaying from side to side. This song Beatrice knows, or knows the English version, but she has a feeling the Spanish lyrics are probably completely different. 

Y si entonces temblaras por mi

(And if then you'll tremble for me)

Y lloraras al verme sufrir

(And you'll cry when you see me suffer)

Y sin dudar tu vida entera dar como yo la doy por ti

(And without hesitation give your whole life like I would for you)

Ava’s eyes easily find hers, as if she’s known all along where she is in the crowd. A tender smile comes to her face, no doubt spotting the antlers. Hope starts to creep up again, the potential of maybe seeing Ava afterwards takes over every thought in her brain. What does she say? How does she get backstage? Alice. Alice would need to play ball and from their last interaction it doesn’t seem like she’d be too keen on that. Maybe she can use Levy as a distraction, he could talk circles around Alice and she can sneak past.

Si pudiera ser tu heroe

(If I could be your hero)

Si pudiera ser tu dios

(If I could be your God)

Que salvarte a ti mil veces puede ser mi salvación

(Because saving you a thousand times could be my salvation)

Now Ava angles herself directly in Beatrice’s direction almost as if she wants to sing the words to her and her alone. Ava’s voice begins to crack and she can’t seem to hold her gaze. The crowd cheers and Ava turns away from her, from them, in a moment of privacy as she continues to sing the lyrics which are clearly having an effect on her. 

Si supieras la locura que llevo

(If you only knew the insanity I carry)

Que me hiere y me mata por dentro

(That aches and kills me inside)

Y que mas da, mira, que al final lo que importa es que te quiero

(And what does it matter, look, in the end what matters is that I love you)

Quiero ser tu héroe

(I want to be your hero)

Si pudiera ser tu dios

(If I could be your God)

Porque salvarte a ti mil veces puede ser mi salvación

(Because saving you a thousand times could be my salvation)

puede ser mi salvación

(It could be my salvation)

The spotlight dims and Ava steps to the side of the stage. She returns a few minutes later looking composed. The set continues and the crowd cheers unaffected. Unlike her. Unlike Ava.

When Ava’s set finishes, she grips Levy’s hand and all but bodily pulls him to the side of the stage behind the barriers where a few workers are already taking things apart. She’s struggling to find Alice’s blonde head in the midst of people gathered backstage. There’s a cluster of people and she can make out Ava’s white vest among them. She’s on the floor, an oxygen canister beside her, a long tube extending from it into a mask on her face. Before she can even think about what she’s doing she has one leg over the temporary fence and a security guard has grabbed ahold of her and is pushing her.

“Beatrice!” Levy cries out grabbing her arm.

“She can’t do that!” The security guard yells man-handling her off the fence.

It’s enough of a commotion that both Ava and Alice turn in their direction. Alice hurries to them, hands outstretched to keep Beatrice from getting hurt. “It’s okay, she’s okay, stop pushing her. Beatrice! What are you doing?!”

“Is Ava hurt? She’s hurt!” She says in distress. Levy is helping her off the fence, but her death grip on the fence is so strong that he gives up halfway and just starts to push her back over while Alice is pushing in the other direction.

“She’s not hurt, she’s fine, she just needs to catch her breath.” Alice replies, and with one final Herculean shove from Alice she’s off the fence and being propped up by Levy alone, which means she’s on the floor as he struggles under her weight. “You need to leave.”

“No! I want to see her, Alice.” She manages to clamber back up, hands on the fence again, ready to spring over.

Alice nods once, then says, “Yes, I know that, but Beatrice she doesn’t want to see you. This is not the right moment. She needs space. She needs time. You know this.” Beatrice releases her grip on the fence, taking a few steps back in resignation. “Levy, give Beatrice my number. You can reach out to me.”

She nods, because that’s all she can do. Before she turns to go she looks behind Alice, hoping for a glimpse of Ava, but she’s gone. 

“Can I just say that this is a very loaded Sex and the City moment.” Levy speaks up, trying to lighten the mood. He points in Alice’s direction with a fake angry scowl before saying, “I curse the day you were born!” Alice laughs, Beatrice manages a small chuckle and he rolls his eyes. 

—

(*)

Like a flower waiting to bloom

Like a light bulb in a dark room

Ava sits at her upright piano in her office, trailing her fingers around the keys. She’s been sitting there for hours, tinkering with various melodies, in her pajama shorts, a beige sports bra with a white dress shirt over the top, occupying herself on a rare day off. 

In the background, Nina Simone plays softly through her speakers, the faint pops and crackles of the record sounding as the vinyl spins. 

Outside, Madrid is experiencing a rare bout of a Summer storm. Thunder has been cracking overhead and lightning lancing across the vista through her balcony all morning and now torrential rain is hammering the streets. 

The atmosphere is reflective of her general mood.

My poor heart, it’s been so dark

Since you’ve been gone

After all you’re the one that turned me off 

Now you’re the only one that can turn me back on, uh

Ava furrows her brow, pausing her movements as she listens again.

Distinctly she hears it again. A knock. Several knocks at her door.

She’s not expecting anyone. Has expressly asked Alice and Emilia to not contact her today unless it's urgent.

Shuffling off the piano stool hesitantly, Ava lowers the lid on her piano exiting her office and approaches the door of her apartment. Cautiously she sneaks a peek through the peephole. A wet mop of hair as the head hangs forward, a soaked figure in a brown houndstooth jacket and jeans. It couldn’t be… not here . Absolutely not . And yet her heart is screaming at her to open the door.

Ava grasps the doorknob, half praying it’s an apparition of her own melancholy, half hoping it’s what she fears.

She eases the door open.

The head jolts up. 

She looks like a drowned rat.

“Hi.”

Chapter Text

“Do you know what ungodly time of the day this is!? I finally get a chance to sleep in and you wake me up at crap o’clock!”

“Al-Alice, please. Levy told me you’re all back in Madrid for a few days. I’m–I’m about to board a flight. To Madrid. Please. I have to see her. I have to talk to her. I don’t know if you have anything scheduled today but I’m prepared to wait. I’ll wait all day. I’ll take any moment Ava’s willing to give me.”

Silence.

“Please don’t hang up.”

Alice lets out a heavy sigh at the other end of the line. “You really are playing up the forlorn desperation bit here. But , you are in luck today. She’s got a day off. She needs it. We all need it. And I was taking full advantage before you so rudely interrupted my slumber. Did I not tell you she needs space and time? What were you going to do if I didn't answer? Loiter the streets of Madrid in the hopes you came across her?”

“I… yes? I would’ve kept calling but also I was going to see if I could find enough landmarks from places she’s mentioned and hope for the best. Please. Alice. I am desperate. I just want to see her.”

“Fuck me sideways. I can’t even believe I’m considering this. Call me when you land in Madrid, Lovergirl. I need time to deliberate.”

Alice hangs up on her unceremoniously, leaving Beatrice to stare at her phone in mystification. Well, at least it wasn’t a flat refusal.

—

Beatrice is standing in front of her door. Drenched white blouse stuck to her skin to the point that she can see through it. Can see through to the black bra underneath it. Can see through to the toned musculature and curves beneath. The saturated jeans she’s wearing are molded to her figure and restricting her movement, the sodden jacket weighing her down.  “Hi.” Beatrice makes an attempt to push her dripping locks off her face and behind her ear, the droplets from the action flicking into the air and landing with splatters on the hallway floor. Beatrice is well and truly soaked to the bone.

“Hi.” She replies, a mixture of surprise and worry threading its way through her response.  

Beatrice's eyes are drinking her in, almost like she’s shocked that she had knocked on Ava’s apartment door and that Ava had actually answered. 

Several long moments pass of them just staring wordlessly at each other.

Eventually she’s unable to resist and her eyes trace their way back down Beatrice's body, striking even in its current sorry state and she can’t help the little thump her heart makes.

Locked gaze broken and spurred into movement, Beatrice is slinging her satchel around to her front and begins to open it. The satchel is also wet but thankfully the leather has managed to at least repel much of the downpour. “I–I have something for you.” Beatrice is frantically rifling around for something. “I’ll be quick, I know that I’m probably imposing and I don’t want to take up–”

“You should come inside.”

Beatrice’s rustling stops, as anxious eyes meet hers. “Inside? Inside where?”

“My apartment.”

“Oh.” Beatrice looks over her shoulder, to the expanse of the apartment behind her. “Are you–are you sure? You don’t have to, I’m happy here.”

“ I’m not. Happy with you out here. Standing in the hallway.” She can feel the furrow of her frown because Beatrice is being silly. Beatrice is standing outside her apartment in the hallway soaked by the afternoon storm and has the audacity to pretend like she isn’t. Like she’s fine.

“Oh.”

She pulls the door further open and shifts to the side. Beatrice takes that as the cue to step into the premises, boots making squishy noises after each step. She pushes the door closed behind Beatrice and watches as Beatrice looks around, eyes flitting from the kitchen to their right to the office on the left, water collecting on the tile beneath her.

“I’m guessing you got caught up in the storm?”

“I got lost actually.”

“Lost?”

“I tried to ask for directions. I don’t think they quite understood me and then I got a bit confused getting around.”

Beatrice faces her again, she looks exhausted. Ava knows the band has been busy globetrotting and promoting the album, Camila filling her in on their various activities. Finding Beatrice on her doorstep is unexpected. “Alice,” She starts as if that answers how she’s managed to find the apartment. “I asked Alice to give me your address. I kind of didn’t hang up until she did so please don’t fire her, I can be very persistent at times.”

She smiles unbidden because she had already guessed at the answer to the ‘ how ’ but hearing Beatrice vocalise it makes her heart warm. “I won’t, she’s indispensable.” 

They’re staring again. She clears her throat as she notices Beatrice’s gaze flickering downward in stops and starts, as if reminding herself to keep her gaze up. Almost absentmindedly, Beatrice mumbles out, “Your hair is getting longer.”

“You said you had something for me?”

“Hmm? Oh! Yes.” Beatrice has suddenly dropped to her knees, looking through her satchel again. Beatrice is pulling out the contents onto the wet tile, a chocolate bar, glasses case, a wallet, a phone charger, a small makeup pouch and then a plastic bag.

Her sigh must be loud enough because Beatrice stops what she’s doing to look up at her in askance. She crouches down, gathering up everything all in one go, walking to the small round dining table in the kitchen and depositing Beatrice’s belongings on the table surface. Beatrice plops down to pull her boots off and neatly lines them up against the wall before getting up and following her to the table, slipping on the tile floors with her equally wet socks. 

Beatrice is looking down at her things. “Sorry. I’m nervous.”

“I know.” Me too.

Beatrice’s hands go to the plastic bag undoing the knot, reaching in and pulling out three things, her passport, a worn book that Ava can’t make out, and her music journal. The journal is what her eyes linger on. It’s no longer as pristine as she remembers it, it now has multiple dog eared pages, there’s pages inserted in, the seam is frayed and there seems to be something inside it, enough to make it bulge. It looks like her own journal from all those months ago. Almost as if…no, it couldn’t be.

“This is for you,” Beatrice says, holding out the journal to her. For her to take. The eyes that meet hers are open and uninhibited. As if this was always the intention, the journal’s fate, since that day in Paris and Ava has to look away from Beatrice’s earnest gaze because she knows exactly what Beatrice is saying. Knows what this means. Knows what she’ll find inside. “Will you accept it?”

Unable to face Beatrice, she steps away, giving her back to her, bare feet coming into contact with the puddle of water that’s trailed Beatrice. She’s worrying the skin on her thumb, gnawing at it with her mouth, the skin there already raw from how routine this action has become. 

“Please take it.” Beatrice is pleading.

“What will it change?” She replies, not turning around, facing the hallway wall.

“You need to know. You need to know how I feel. About you. About us.”

“I know how you feel.” She retorts, the words coming out much blunter than intended. “Your lyrics aren’t going to change anything. It’s not anything new.”

“Turn around.” 

She shouldn’t.

“Please?” Beatrice implores. “Please look at me.”

She turns.

Beatrice inhales, chest rising and on the release expels, “I love you.” 

She leans against the wall for support because the breath has been stolen from her. The frankness of Beatrice’s statement and tone is startling. Words she knows to be true yet the utterance of them now , under such circumstances, knocks the air out of her. 

“I fell in love with you the moment we met. The moment I saw you in that waiting room backstage. And I’ve been falling deeper in love with you ever since, and everything that has happened since then just proves that I have been acting like…that I am the world’s biggest imbecile. Every moment we have spent together, spent coexisting just further entrenches you into me, into my soul like ivy taking root and engulfing my heart. Somehow, you throw my life into chaos and calm all at once. I’ve never been happier than when we’re together, from making cookies, making music or just walking side by side. I should have always chosen you. Each and every day. With all that I am and all that I do.” 

Beatrice is staring at her with tear filled eyes as she continues to speak, her voice wobbling as she does. 

“My soul recognises you Ava Silva. When I saw you that first day, it was like I’d known you all along. I knew you before we even met. You’re someone I have always known. We are imperfect beings made perfect together. It’s a humbling moment when you suddenly realise you were truly incomplete and now that we’ve met, I’ve been made whole. You have completely thrown my life off its axis, everything I’ve ever planned has been subverted and transformed in your wake. I only hope one day you can forgive me for denying it, for denying the truth of us, for hurting you in my denial. But I’m not going to stand here and pretend like you’re not the most important person in my life anymore because you are. I love you, Ava. I’ll say it as much as you want me to, but know that I find words fleeting and that’s why I write them down. So please, take my journal so that I can begin to show you how much you mean to me.”

The needle has reached the dead wax, a slight crackling through the speakers, gently reminding Ava that the vinyl needs to be flipped.

Unable to meet Beatrice’s eyes, Ava looks to the far wall, at the apartment door, away from Beatrice, unwilling and unable to receive the emotional deluge that has just been delivered. “Beatrice…” The tears that were pooling during Beatrice’s speech are spilling over and tracking its way down her cheeks, “I’m not ready–I’m not ready for this.”

“You’re not ready for this?” Beatrice’s voice is cracking and tremoring in its response. 

“No,” She replies. “Logically I know that I should move on, the best thing to do is to cut ties completely and start to put this…put us behind me.” She hears a sharp intake of breath from Beatrice but continues on, “But every time I try to move past it, my heart aches and I can’t seem to will it into changing its mind. You have made it impossible for me to. But I can’t. I’m not ready to hear this.” She pushes on because Beatrice is listening quietly, and she may not be happy with what she’s hearing but she’s being receptive and letting the words land between them. “You have like a two second rebound rate. At this point it’s Pavlovian. I expect pain after happiness. I don’t trust you not to hurt me.”

Beatrice is inching towards her, trying to come closer, “Ava, please don’t do this.” 

“Stop,” She puts her right hand up, halting Beatrice in place. “Maybe this is why we keep hurting, maybe, maybe we’re just not right for each other.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“No.” She sighs, “You’re right, I don’t. But moving on would be the sensible thing to do. The smart thing to do. I don’t trust you right now. I can’t trust you. Everything would be a lot more simple if I just stopped us here and now.” 

Beatrice is shaking, but upon closer examination, it’s not for the reason she first assumes. Beatrice’s teeth are minutely chattering and she can tell that Beatrice is trying to suppress it. Beatrice is cold. 

“I told you at the Gala but I don’t think you heard me. I don’t think you wanted to hear me. You broke me. Your repeated rejections have set me back, your actions have made me feel like I’m that abandoned seven year old again and I can’t even begin to piece myself back together.”

“Ava. Please. Let me earn your trust back. Let me prove it to you. You matter. You are worth it. I want to show you. Everyday. You are worth it.”

“No. You can’t. Only I can. Only I can fix myself.” 

“I need space. I need time. I need to believe you. I need to trust you. Beatrice, right now, I love you but I don’t trust you.” 

“I love you.” Beatrice’s voice is plaintive as she murmurs it like a plea.

“If you love me, you will give me time. And you will need to accept it whether or not I can find it in myself to come back to you or if I walk away.”

Grief is etched into every line of Beatrice’s face as she hangs her head in silent acceptance. Trembles and shivers wracking her body as she seems to constrain the pain inside her at Ava’s words and the coldness taking root in her skin.

“I am in so much pain.”

“I am too.”

“I should–I should go then. I don’t want to make things more difficult for you.”

“Yes–no! I don’t want you to leave but… but …are you staying nearby?”

“I have a schedule tomorrow. I have to go back to London.”

“What? What do you mean?”

“I knew you were in Madrid. I had a few hours so I came to see you, but I need to be on a flight later to make my schedule.”

She’s pushing off the wall, approaching Beatrice. “You need to shower. You’re going to get sick.”

Beatrice is beginning to gather everything on the table, everything except the journal. “I’ll be fine.”

“No, you won’t be.” She reaches out and arrests Beatrice’s movements, turning them to face each other. Ava’s hands clasp Beatrice’s exposed wrist, feeling the ice cold skin there. “What would your therapist say? Have you not been learning to prioritise yourself these last few months?”

A crooked smile winds its way into the corner of Beatrice’s mouth but her eyes remain grim. Beatrice nods, eyes tracking from her socks, up her torso, to Ava’s face and then attaching themselves to hand on her wrist. “I don’t have anything to change into. I also need to clean up the water I’ve tracked in.”

She lets go. Taking a few steps backwards into the short hallway, “The bathroom is behind you. I’m going to get you a towel and something to wear. Don’t worry about the puddles, I will mop it up.” She sees Beatrice nod and step into the bathroom before she turns, opening the hallway closet to grab a fresh towel before walking into the dining room, then taking a right into her bedroom. 

The bathroom connects to her bedroom by a door and she can hear Beatrice shuffling inside, shedding the drenched clothing. Throwing the towel on top of her unmade bed, Ava opens her bedroom closet, collecting a freshly laundered shirt that hangs a bit long on her and comfy lounge pants. The pants might be more ankle length on Beatrice though. Reaching towards the very back of her closet, far from eyesight, she retrieves Beatrice's hoodie. Memories burn at her forefront of her mind as she grasps the hoodie in hand. Reluctant to offer it back to Beatrice. But it is Beatrice’s and she should have the option of having it returned, no matter what becomes of their story.

She knocks once on the door to alert Beatrice of her presence then says, “Give me your clothing.” The door opens a crack and Beatrice’s bare arm pokes out dangling the heavy items. She grabs the clothing, dropping everything on the floor next to her, it lands with a wet smack, and then she passes the towel to Beatrice’s waiting hand. “Are you ready for clothing?”

“Yeah.”

She bundles the articles of clothing together and deposits it all atop of Beatrice’s outstretched hand. 

Beatrice’s arm whips back out, forcibly flinging the hoodie out onto the bedroom floor. “I don’t need this. This isn’t mine.” Beatrice’s tone is sharp.

“You’re going to be on a flight, you need something to keep you warm.” 

“I don’t want it. I’ll buy something. A Madrid souvenir jumper.” With a finality, Beatrice thuds the door shut, cutting off any further discussion on the topic.

Internally, she’s elated that Beatrice has rejected the hoodie and that she gets to keep it. Scooping the hoodie off the floor, she hangs it back up in her closet.

She hears the shower start before she scoops up Beatrice’s wet clothing and walks out to her balcony. Plopping the clothing down on the railing, she begins to wring out each piece of clothing as best as she can before hanging each piece up to attempt to dry in the breeze. 

Making her way back into the kitchen, she stuffs hand towels into Beatrice’s boots to try and dry them out before mopping up the puddles. She’s preparing tea by the time Beatrice emerges from the bathroom, the plain white shirt she’s wearing tucked into the black joggers. Yep, definitely ankle length on her but the shirt fits well. Beatrice is drying off the ends of her hair, eyes closed. 

Ava has flipped the record, Nina Simone’s voice softly emanating from her office.

“I’m making you tea.”

“Thank you, that’s lovely,” Beatrice says while pulling out her glasses case from the satchel and slipping them on. This is the first time she’s ever seen Beatrice wear her glasses and she has to fight the urge to squeal because she looks so soft and rumpled in her clothing, fresh from the shower but also so refined with her glasses on. It takes everything inside Ava to look back down to the hot mug in front of her. 

“Green tea okay?” She asks but she knows the answer. Beatrice is the sole reason she has collected multiple tins of various loose leaf green teas. Beatrice nods, pulling a chair out from the round table and taking a seat. She places the mug in front of Beatrice, the leaves steeping in the infuser.

Collecting the towel from Beatrice’s chair, she puts it in the laundry basket in the closet.

Beatrice regards her like she has a thousand things to say but thinks better of it. “Nina?”

“She seemed the right choice given the afternoon and weather.”

Beatrice takes a sip of the tea. “I didn’t think you were a jazz person.”

“You’re a jazz person.” The honesty sits there for a moment. The implication is obvious to both of them.

Beatrice is smiling, it’s small but it’s there. “I am.”

There’s so much they need to say. There’s so much she wants to say. But they’re not ready. She’s not ready. 

Beatrice looks down into the mug, mouth hovering a bit above the mug before taking another sip.

“I like your glasses.”

“Thank you, I need them to see.”

“All those books?”

“Yes. The shelving atop my bed, waiting for the right moment to strike.”

She chuckles, “Yeah.”

“What’s your excuse?”

“Probably a lot of sitting in front of the TV watching cartoons.”

Beatrice lets out a peal of laughter in response. It has drawn a moment of pure delight out of her. Not muted by their earlier conversation. 

“What time is your flight?”

“I don’t have one yet. I didn’t know if or when I would get to see you. I just planned on taking the red eye out if needed.”

“ Oh . What would you have done if Alice didn’t give you my address?”

At that, Beatrice’s cheeks pinken. “I um. I had a vague idea of what neighbourhood you lived in based on our conversations. I was sort of hoping that if I walked around enough I might see something you’ve mentioned. Truthfully I was hoping I’d find your favourite cafe and that you’d come in for Miguelitos. I was just going to sit in there all day until they yelled at me to leave. Hoping for a Serendipity miracle.” Beatrice’s hand comes up to cover her face in embarrassment. “It sounds really pathetic when I say it out loud. I was just desperate to see you. I didn’t expect the rain though. It was either that or just walk through the streets yelling your name.”

Ava just watches her in bemusement. Utterly captivated by the moron sitting in front of her in her clothing.

The sky is starting to darken by the time that Beatrice makes a move to leave.

Beatrice’s clothing is still damp. Ava gathers them, folding it all haphazardly into a plastic bag for Beatrice to take home.

Beatrice slips on her boots. They’re still wet, making little squishing noises as Beatrice laces them up.

It doesn’t take long for the cab to arrive. They’re hovering by the front door and Beatrice is slinging the satchel across her shoulder, the plastic bag with all the damp clothing in her left hand. She’s given Beatrice a pea coat to wear as the evening air cools, the sleeves a bit short.

The journal is lying on top of the small dining table in the kitchen, neither bringing up that it has been left behind. 

“I guess I’ll be going then.”

“Wait!” She scrambles back into the bedroom, hastily grabbing a pair of socks from her chest drawer, her bare feet slapping against the tile floor. She shoves the socks into Beatrice’s chest. “Get shoes, don’t stay in those.”

“You know I can get socks too, right? I can get a whole Madrid ensemble.” 

“Yes, well I forgot, clearly…Have a safe flight.”

Beatrice nods. Right hand reaching behind her back, resting on the door handle, not turning it, lingering for a few seconds. Her eyes are transfixed on Ava’s face, tracing its lines. Almost as if she’s memorising it. Just in case. 

Finally, Beatrice breathes in and looks downward at her feet before giving her one last lopsided grin, turning the door handle and stepping out into the hallway. Turning back to face her, Beatrice mouths a “bye” at her, eyes a bit red rimmed before gently swinging the door closed.

Ava stares at the back of the closed door. Beatrice gone from sight. 

This feels wrong . It feels wrong to have Beatrice walk away from her on such uncertain terms . 

It’s unsurprising that a visceral force takes over her entire person as she rips the apartment door open again, running after Beatrice who has only taken a step or two. She crashes into Beatrice’s back, seizing her around her waist and burying her face into her nape, Beatrice stumbling forward with the force of Ava’s movement. Beatrice smells like her coconut shampoo. She squeezes Beatrice tight, almost too tight for Beatrice to breathe. “Please be safe. Take care of yourself.” 

“You too.”

—

The journal has been sitting on top of her bedside table since Beatrice left. That was hours ago. The thought of opening it and looking through its pages scares her. It’s one thing to hear the words from Beatrice and another to see the raw, unedited thoughts inside. The potential this journal is keeping within its tightly bound pages is too much, even for her. She doesn’t know if she’s ready. Doesn’t know if she will ever be ready.

She pulls her duvet covers off, sitting up to grab it, turning it over a few times in her hands. 

No. Another day maybe, when she’s not so fraught.

What should have been a quick movement of her opening her bedside table drawer and slipping the journal inside turns into panic when the journal’s elastic actually bursts open. She fights the urge to laugh because of course this would happen. Of course the fates would do this to her. The pages open somewhere near the end where there’s a pressed flower and now it’s slipping out at an angle and she’s scrambling to grab a hold of it. The journal falls, a few pages spilling out and floating haphazardly down, the flower’s in a sorry state with a few dry petals having broken off, fluttering onto the floor. She leans off the bed, collecting the contents she can see but she’s too preoccupied with the damage the flower has taken to worry about everything that has slipped out. 

Sitting back on the bed with the contents of the journal spread in front of her now, she begins to truly look at everything. Beatrice has been busy. The flower is what her eyes go to first, its colour has faded slightly, once a lively deep red, now a faded maroon, but she recognised it from the moment it landed on the floor. It’s the red carnation she gave Beatrice before their Hadestown date. 

“A red carnation symbolises deep love and affection.”

And it’s like a punch in the gut. Beatrice has kept it. It has been preserved and pressed against a book, not the journal though, which means Beatrice slipped it inside for her. And she has just damaged it, letting it fall on the floor, its petals now scattered across her bed. She collects everything of the flower she can find, looks for an empty page in the journal and carefully deposits it back inside. 

Enough. She needs to close the journal and put it away.

Her eyes catch one of the loose pages lying on top of the duvet.

‘ Every night I empty my heart, 

but by morning it’s full again ’

There’s nothing else written, it’s as if it’s been cut short or only the beginning of something. She collects the loose pages on her bed, shoving them to the very back of the journal and stares at the thing as if it’s the most terrifying entity in the world. 

She might as well rip the bandaid off .

She inhales. Braving herself for what she’s about to do.

She starts at the beginning. 

B. Y.

The initials are written on the front page in black ink with too much attention to the penmanship flourish, but this is Beatrice so of course it’s perfect. She’s surprised there isn’t an engraving underneath with her family emblem or something of the sort.

The first few pages are half finished songs, songs she recognises from the album and a few snippets Beatrice has shown her. All different from their finished products though, they’re rough and a little pretentious but have Beatrice’s charm stamped all over them. There’s little sketches on the margins pertaining to the songs. And instead of crossing out lyrics, they’ve been run through by a purple highlighter, and she knows purple means a deletion because there’s a page with an index that explains what each highlighter means. Apparently orange means 'embarrassing’, but there isn’t that much orange highlighter to begin with. 

It’s absurd how intrinsically Beatrice it is to have avoided crossing out lyrics but instead to have developed a colour coded key for it instead. She doesn’t even try to fight the burgeoning affection building in her chest at the discovery of this facet of Beatrice.

She gets to the first pages with the dog eared corners.

Aunque Es De Noche - A flamenco inspired song, simple in its nature yet effective in its desire to captivate. An incredible display of raw emotion. Utterly breathtaking. The 16th century poem dethroned under Ava Silva’s enchanting voice.

A Palé - A stylistic shift done so effortlessly that it took a moment to register it was another song all together. It’s innovative and my ears are still recovering from its transmutation. A mix of both flamenco and electronic, the latter wholly reminiscent of Björk.

Ava reads the words over and over again, heart pounding in her chest. Beatrice connected with her music that day in Graham Norton. The day they met. The day Beatrice fell in love. The intimate validation of Beatrice’s unrestrained observations suffocate her. 

The mutual understanding of what it takes to create, perform and bare your soul through music. Beatrice was the only person to have ever understood her to this degree. The shared vulnerability between them through music. Highlighted even more now. She had noticed it on several occasions in the studio, how music had become a form of love language between them. How even at her angriest she had found inspiration in Beatrice. 

A mutual inspiration that could no longer be denied. Just like the love they shared. They had become a composition, every note, every lyric imbued with layers of their intimacy.

The realisation sits there along with her.

‘ How am I supposed to feel
all my life, I’ve felt out of place, been saving face’

The next dog eared page she’s seen in person. It’s the drawings of their dessert in Paris, which have now been coloured in accompanied by the note ‘ Ava Silva likes art ’ . Followed by questions which she remembers Beatrice asking during one of their outings in London. The time they had dumplings. 

‘ Ava Silva likes musicals ’ .

And scribbled underneath is the date the Hadestown tickets went on sale along with ‘ get her tickets??? ’ The memory is bittersweet now. From the initial elation and wonder that had filled her when Beatrice showed her the tickets ( eating a cheeseburger will never be the same again ) to the sadness she had felt when Beatrice got out of the car saying “Even when you know how it ends, you still hold out hope that it might turn out differently. It never turns out differently.”

Friends asking me where I've been hiding

I'm losin' hours in your eyes

Lost in your wonderland, I hope I’m never found

There's no one else around, tonight

I'm not so used to being happy

Now I just float down еvery street

You make a sappy stupid something out of me

The kind I swore I’d never be

I’m awake inside a dream  

Now the dog eared pages are coming back to back, the journal mostly made of them. And she knows by now what they mean. What they represent within the journal. 

‘ Teach Ava jazz runs for her album. ’

‘ What’s the deal with the bike theme? ’

She can’t help but chuckle. Vroom vroom. 

‘ Tell me your story and I’ll tell you mine     
settle down, put your bags down ’

The next page is all Bewitched along with some simple chords to play on the guitar.

I don't recognize myself

I'm dancing down streets

Smiling to strangers

Idiotic things

I trace it all back, 3:30 AM

That night, something turned in my heart

While you were sleeping, I fell in love

Beatrice has woken up, and the reason she knows Beatrice is awake is because she herself is awake and being a complete creep. Ava can’t be blamed though, it’s an unfamiliar bed and she is a roamer by nature. This is perfectly normal for her. It’s not surprising to suddenly wake up in the middle of the night. Usually, she just tosses around for a few minutes, flips the pillow to the cool side or scrolls through her phone. What is surprising though is that she woke to find herself still being held just as tightly as when she fell asleep. And she’s a creep because instead of falling back asleep like a normal person, she’s been counting Beatrice’s cute little snores. She’s only really heard them over the phone so being able to witness them in person is kind of a treat.

Beatrice is beginning to untangle herself and she’s being so careful. Careful enough that Ava is sure if she were asleep she wouldn’t have noticed. She stays absolutely still, if Beatrice realises she’s been awake the whole time it might lead to an awkward exchange, and Ava just wants to snuggle back into those arms if given the chance. 

She hears the door open and footsteps head in the direction of the bathroom. The hum of the extractor fan masks anything else. It’s not long until Beatrice is back in the room, closing the door behind her and sitting on the side of the bed, her back to Ava. She’s on her side facing what would be Beatrice's desk, pretending to be fast asleep as if that’s not a totally insane move on her part. Beatrice does something unexpected though. Her right arm comes to rest behind Ava’s back and it feels like she’s slightly leaning towards her body. It’s long enough that she’s about to lose all composure and do something drastic like pulling Beatrice back down by her pajama shirt. But then the arm is gone and Beatrice begins to settle back down carefully. 

This is the moment Ava’s been waiting for. What will Beatrice do? Because all signs point to her just falling back asleep, Ava is warm, there’s no reason to snuggle again. Except there is because Beatrice is worming her arm down and under Ava’s pillow like a little caterpillar all while reaching around her waist and gently, ever so gently, pulling her close again. And honestly she deserves an Academy Award at this point for all the sleep acting that’s taking place and the level of restraint she’s showing because how could anyone resist the urge not to do something. Anything!

Her arms are against Beatrice’s chest, a heavy suspire lands against the hairs at the top of her head, almost like Beatrice is surrendering to something. Her shirt is pulled down from where it has scrunched up, covering her exposed tummy back up and Beatrice settles her hand across her waist, mimicking their earlier position, before either of them woke up. Ava waits for the quiet snores to come again before wiggling her left hand underneath Beatrice’s arm and wrapping it around Beatrice, and falling back to sleep.

I just want to take you home

Call a taxi in the snow

When the driver can't see

Steal a kiss from me

Realised you forgot the keys

Think that it was meant to be

Cause we sat outside

You looked in my eyes

She leaned in then, resting her lips on Beatrice's cold cheek as she texted, and to her credit Beatrice only stopped her relentless assault on the phone’s keyboard for a few seconds to regard her with a dimpled smile, eyes returning to her phone reluctantly. This was something that she was growing used to, the need for something physical between them, the need to show Beatrice any kind of affection, building up faster and faster as the days passed. As much as she could get away with. The driver far too busy driving through the aftermath of the Winter storm to notice.

Beatrice was taking her home before heading to the airport. The runways being cleared for take off meant that her schedules had to continue, but not before getting Ava safely to her rental. Along with leftover pasta to reheat later. 

She pats her coat pockets and digs through the backpack at the front door. No keys. She can’t believe this is happening. Was she in that much of a rush to get to Beatrice that she forgot the keys before meeting her at the studio? 

“Something wrong?” Beatrice inquires, feet kicking the snow underneath her boots. 

“My keys. I think I forgot to grab them.”

“From my flat?”

“No, when I left from here.”

Beatrice looks baffled but not surprised. “How is that even possible?”

“The door locks by itself if you pull it to the right before closing, I just thought I had grabbed them.”

“Oh.” Beatrice looks at her watch, she seems a little anxious but collects herself quickly enough to meet Ava’s eyes. “Do you have your landlord's number?”

“I do.”

She calls. They’re on their way. It shouldn’t be long.

Beatrice is sitting on the steps watching her carefully, the spot is under just enough overhang to have been missed by the snow. She lowers herself next to Beatrice, zero space between them. 

“I’m so sorry. I should have been more careful.”

“It happens.”

The taxi driver is waiting for Beatrice around the corner.

“You should go, I’m ok to wait by myself.” She knows Beatrice needs to catch a plane, she’s probably already running late to begin with. 

“No, I’m happy to wait with you. Don’t want you to freeze or something like that.” Beatrice is looking at her as if that is exactly what would happen if she were to be left on her own. “Your hands are cold.” She hadn’t noticed, but they’re turning a sickly shade of purple. Beatrice is quick though, already undoing the buttons from her coat and opening her arms for Ava to snuggle close. Beatrice winces only once when Ava’s hands accidentally touch her skin as they loop around her.

“I’m sorry.” Ava looks up then, finding soft eyes already on hers.

There’s a small note underneath the song.

‘ Get Ava warmer socks and gloves. ’

The next page takes her by complete surprise, she’s not expecting a sketch of herself. It’s cartoonish but the features are there, the short hair, with a swoop at her bangs, the lips pouty and red, and underneath another song.

She wonders when Beatrice did this, her heart squeezing a little in pain at the attention to detail.

I don't know where to look

Don't know where to walk

Don't know how I've been acting lately

Absent minded, kind of crazy

Talking to my room

Singing for the moon

Watch the hours melt away

I sit and dream all night and day

Lately I've been in a haze

Running late, can't think straight

The world feels smaller

Yet the trees look taller

There's enchantment in the air

I know I sound stupid, I do

That's what love will do to you

Beatrice is waving at her from across the closed avenue. She’s done with all her parts for the music video and Alice legitimately disapparated once her duties were done. She’s now wearing comfy exercise pants, a clean shirt and Beatrice’s hoodie. Her running shoes aiding her in quickly making her way across the avenue to the object of her affections. 

The way they crash together is enough to knock the wind out of them but thankfully they manage not to stumble too much. Beatrice has likely come back directly after finishing up at the studio since she’s wearing the same clothing from that afternoon, looking all hot librarian-esque.

“I hear you’re hungry.” Beatrice says looking down at her, dopey smile on her face, which is adorable given that she’s stinky and grimey from the day’s filming. “Anything you’d like for dinner?”

You.

“Pizza!” 

Beatrice nods before spinning in place and pointing in a direction, “There’s a really good New York style pizza place a few blocks from here.”

“All greasy and cheesy? Fantastic!” Beatrice grimaces but begins to head in direction of the restaurant. 

She doesn’t know how but she’s managed to scarf down most of the pizza with Beatrice only making it through a few slices. “Not hungry?”

“I am, I just need to pace myself. Cheese and I don’t really agree.”

“We could have gotten the vegan cheese one.”

“That’s insulting to pizza, Ava. I’d rather suffer through.”

“Was that your subtle way of telling me you get farty after you have dairy?”

Beatrice’s face is scandalised by the mortifying reveal. “No—no! I just get cramps and a little bloated.”

Ava giggles. Beatrice gets farty. “Just tell me when, I’ll happily take the blame for you, gotta protect your honour and all that.”

“Ava!” Beatrice’s cheeks are actively turning a flaming pink.

Ava’s not sure if she’s allowed to play footsie under the table, but she does it nonetheless. Mischievously waiting for Beatrice to notice. “It’s perfectly normal to get farty Beatrice, we all do it.” Beatrice's face is now tomato red, she’s avoiding Ava’s eyes but she must have noticed the activity under the table because an eyebrow shoots up teasingly before her foot is trapped between both of Beatrice’s in a weird life or death battle that she desperately wants to lose to. 

As all the memories rush back all Ava wants to do is go back to the time before their kiss. To a time where things had been simple between them. Before everything changed. 

‘ Give Ava the schedule once Suzanne finalises everything. ’

There’s a drawing of the carnation and next to it, ‘ Tell Ava .’

The next few pages are band songs, one hastily written with angry pen strokes, smudges in places where Beatrice didn’t let the ink dry. Frankenstein.

‘I don’t know what’s worth fighting for or why I have to scream
I know it’s not alright ’

‘ Don’t tell Ava. ’

Sucks to be me

Sucks to be so lonely

Unraveling slowly

Fragile, don’t look at me

Sad, you make me

The next few pages she skips. She’s on her last nerve with any reminder of Somebody Else and its success. She recalls having to tune it out during hair and makeup on more than one occasion, the last time ending with her shoes being thrown directly at the small speaker that played it. 

These songs must have been written during their time apart. They’re melancholy and apologetic.

I've never been in love before

Now all at once it's you

It's you forevermore

I've never been in love before

I thought my heart was safe

I thought I knew the score

So please forgive this helpless haze I'm in

I've really never been

In love before

I've done the math

There's no solution

We'll never last

Why can't I let go of this?

It hurts to be something

It's worse to be nothing with you

The starkness of the emotions contained within Beatrice’s journal fills Ava with frustration. Frustration that Beatrice defaults to writing about her feelings but refuses to vocalise them. Maybe if Beatrice had just talked more, was more vulnerable then they wouldn’t be in this situation. 

She knows that’s not fair. Beatrice is working on it .

—

(*)

“Just want a little bit… more !”

Hey, I want it all, don't have to choose

And when the heart wants what it wants, what can I do?

So I take that one, that one, yeah, that one too

Luxury and opulence

Cartiers and, Tesla X's

Calabasas, I deserve it

Call me crazy, call me selfish

I'm the baddest, and I'm worth it

The Cruciforms are performing at the BBC Radio Live Lounge. After days of nonstop promotions they’re all happy to be back on familiar shores. Not only that, but for a solid month they’ll be able to stay home, meaning catching up on some much needed rest and having maybe, just maybe, a few moments without being in each other's company. Beatrice loves her bandmates but Mary had been right, 24/7 together was not ideal. 

Flex, when all that's left is immaterial

And the price we paid is unbelievable

And I'm taking in as much as I can hold

Well, here are things you'll never know

Make me less, so I want more 

Bought a zip coat at the mall

Call me crazy, call me selfish

Say I'm neither

“What!” 

“ Would you believe her? ” Camila was next to her as the song progressed, excitedly singing along with her as the chorus began once again.

Mary and Lilith to their left, and Yasmine to their right. She was playing her acoustic guitar for the slightly toned down live performance, but still managing to hit the little dance moves Camila had come up with just a few hours before.

Gimme just a little bit more, little bit of excess

Oh, me, oh, my

I don't wanna hear "No, no"

Only want a "Yes, yes"

Oh, me, oh, my

Gimme just a little bit XS! XS!

Oh, me, oh, my

Gimme just a little bit more, little bit of excess

Oh, me, oh, my

Where did it go right?

When all this time, Heaven was in our eyes

So say good night, forget about it 'til the end of time

Yeah, I want more, more, more, more!

“Come on!”

More, more, more, more!

“One more time!”

More, more, more, more!

Gimme just a little bit

A little bit moooooooooreeeeeee!

Give me moooooooreeee!

Listen…I need it noooooooooooooooooow!

Give me just a little more

Don’t want to hear no, no, no!

Give me just a little more

A little bit more

A little bit mooooooooooore!

Oooouuuuuuooo XS!!!

—

“Today, we are chatting with one of our country’s crown jewels, who have paved their own way. And if they continue in the trajectory they’re on, they will trail blaze their way to the very top. We are going to meet with, learn about, love with and most importantly celebrate our recent ‘Artist of the Year’ Brits winners - The Cruciforms!” Jack Saunders announces them to the radio audience listening along. They’re all sitting crammed into the room, headsets and microphones in front of them. 

They all communicate their thanks at different volumes and inflections, whatever comes naturally at this point. Interviews like this are becoming the norm and being able to just sit back and know what is going to be asked has taken a load off Beatrice’s shoulders. The other members are also being more open and taking chances to engage. Camila was already doing that, but it has helped to at least get a grunt from Lilith every now and then and a word or two from Mary. Yasmine has been on top of things as well, but they usually need to intervene since her replies can be at times quite long and full of facts.

The questions flow quickly. Many of these they’ve answered several times already, the answers are the same, with just slight variations or recent inclusions. They speak about the performance of the album and how it has dominated the U.K. charts all Summer. How the ‘ STFU’ music video was shot. Was that really them at the Met Gala? It’s the next section of the interview that worries them.

“We have some questions from our listeners.” The host says, pulling the laptop close. “First up, What is your creative process like?”

Yasmine is the first to answer. “We enjoy writing a lot of it on the spot. Chatting to each other while coming up with structure or instrumentations is probably our favourite part of the whole process. We respect each other’s opinions and try to understand the perspective. It’s a very democratic process. Of course Beatrice is an incredible lyricist, but we all sign off on what is said in our songs, the messaging.” They all nod along. “We’re just very open, I think that’s the key takeaway, nothing is silly and everything is encouraged.”

“Even the maniacal laughing?”

“Especially the maniacal laughing!” Lilith replies, with a huge smile on her face.

“What is the most useless talent you all have?”

“Yasmine can beatbox and hum at the same time!” Camila yells quickly.

“Camila, how is that useless!?”

“Well, she only does it to be annoying and where’s the use in that?”

“Beatrice’s perfect pitch is pretty useless given that we have equipment that can do the same thing!”

“Lilith, you absolute brat!”

“Folks, it seems we have accidentally started a rift within the band, I think it’s best we move on!” The host chuckles as they continue to argue amongst themselves. “ ‘ XS ’ doesn’t sound like a typical song for The Cruciforms, was this an early song?”

Camila is bouncing on the spot before the question even finishes, “It’s my song! I wrote it!” She’s smiling brightly, proud of her contribution to the album. “We needed more catchy mainstream songs and I couldn’t get the word ‘opulence’ out of my head after watching Drag Race so I had to channel my excess energy into something. Beatrice’s voice and Lilith’s guitar completely elevate the song though, I couldn’t have wished for better collaborators.”

“This question is coming up a lot so I have to ask. The fans want to know. Why don’t The Cruciforms like performing ‘ Somebody Else ’?” There it is. He was told not to ask, but has figured out how to bring it up, because technically he’s not asking if everyone else is instead. 

Beatrice clears her throat and the eyes of everyone in the room fall upon her. “To be perfectly honest, while we are incredibly grateful for the song’s success and we’re glad so many relate to it… well, maybe not glad, but it’s not a song that brings up good memories for me. The less I perform it, the better it is for my sanity. And that’s coming directly from me, it’s not a prepared answer. We’ll perform it during sets and even in our upcoming tour, but if I can minimise my engagement with it then I will.”

—

Keeping her head bowed, Ava fiddles with her keys at the front gate, finally locating the right key and turning it in the lock before slipping inside. 

As the gate swings shut behind her, she quietly surveys the front courtyard with its neatly trimmed shrubbery, the flora withering as Autumn marches on. Letting herself in the front door, she heads for the kitchen, hunting for the packages of chicharrón always kept in stock for her before beginning to wander through the house in search of her aunt. 

She comes across Emilia seated in a lounge chair in the back garden, thumbing through a novel. Collapsing herself at the foot of Emilia’s lounge chair, she looks up to see Emilia arching a well manicured eyebrow at her. “Ava. What a pleasant surprise. You didn’t tell me you were coming home today.”

Busily cramming a fistful of chicharrón into her mouth, Ava hums a muted reply. 

They continue to sit in silence for a few minutes as Ava makes her way through the snack, until finally she finishes the package, balling up the bag and shoving it into her pocket. She cannot prolong the reason for her visit any further.

Staring at her aunt, Ava blurts out “I have something to discuss and I need you to hear me out first. But I want to know what you think I should do.”

Methodically putting a bookmark into her book, Emilia draws out the moment before teasing, “This must be serious. Usually you just come to pilfer snacks and laze about. When was the last time you asked for my opinion? Maybe when you were still trying to decide between bright pink or sparkly blue Doc Martens.” 

Ava huffs indignant, “Those were important decisions for a 14 year old Ava and you know it. I could have been on the verge of committing a fashion faux pas.”

“Mi vida, the very existence of them is a fashion faux pas.”

Gently, Emilia regards her, quietly waiting for her to speak. 

“I’m in love with Beatrice but I don’t trust her and I don’t know what to do about it.”

Ava nearly swallows her own tongue in horror. That was not what she had rehearsed or promised herself that she would say. She was supposed to be calm and methodical in unveiling the circumstances of Ava and Beatrice, Ava, Beatrice, Ava and Beatrice as a unit, to Emilia. 

Try as she might, Emilia cannot manage to quell the mirth that is rising out of her at the abject terror on Ava’s face after word vomiting that sentence. Chuckling between her words, Emilia says, “I’m so sorry cariño, I know I shouldn’t laugh but you really should see yourself in a mirror right now.”

Clearing her throat and placing a soothing hand on Ava’s forearm, Emilia starts again, “I had gathered that you and Beatrice have some mutually strong feelings towards one another. Well… at least, I had hoped for that kind of sentiment given some of what you expressed on the album, and decided to so vocally tell the world… things that I wish I didn’t know.” 

Ducking her head, ears aflame, Ava mutters an apology again. Not her first and not her last for having subjected Emilia and their extended family to some lyrics and imagery they’d sooner all live in blissful ignorance of.

“Why don’t you start from the beginning? Tell me what you want me to know. Keep it PG please. Or you’re paying for my therapy.”

Ava huffs out a laugh.

And so the sanitised version of Ava and Beatrice spills forth from her, from their first meeting, their Paris jaunt, the London tours, the Harrods dash all the way up to finding Beatrice on her doorstep. Touching upon but generally skating through the traumas shared and some of the harsher words that had spilled from both of their mouths. She also keeps some details, thoughts, discussions out of the conversation. Those, she keeps close to her heart, only for her and Beatrice. 

Throughout it all, Emilia has kept quiet. A steady presence by Ava’s side, even as she chokes up with emotion as she relives some of the harder moments, both the tender and the painful ones. Expressions have clouded Emilia’s face at times, mouth opening to voice a thought, a question but ultimately holding off and allowing Ava the space to divulge. 

Upon finishing the entire tale spanning the last year of her life, Ava sags with relief at having finally spoken to Emilia, a rush of catharsis at someone else knowing most of their story.

Emilia’s forehead is creased as she mulls over the details, eyes unfocused but looking out to the distance, busy contemplating Ava’s plight and initial statement. “How does she make you feel?” 

“She makes me crazy.” The simple truth springs forth from Ava’s lips. “She makes me crazy in all of the ways. I feel so happy with her, around her and for her, so proud of her achievements but she also infuriates me, she confounds me. Simultaneously, I deeply understand her, I know her at her very core but at the same time I feel like I don’t understand her at all. She’s like a puzzle that I feel like I’d willingly spend the rest of my life trying to piece together.”

The surge of complex feelings that Ava has grappled with over the past months and tried hard to suppress now bursts forth like a wave crashing ashore. 

“I’ve never felt like I wanted to give so much of myself to someone. To reveal things I never thought I’d ever voice out loud. To lay my soul bare for someone to look upon and have faith that she’ll take care of it.”

“I always feel a compulsion to be around her, to be in her orbit. When we’re together, she notices all the small things. Making sure I’m not cold, making sure that I am safe, that I don’t get hurt. She hurt her own hand to make sure that I didn’t slam my head against a car’s door frame. She’s forever doing tiny things to make me happy, small adjustments to herself or the surroundings to make me more comfortable and she doesn’t think I notice, but I do.”

Pausing to take a breath, so lost in her monologue, Ava looks up at Emilia and catches her brushing away a tear at the corner of her eye, throat bobbing up and down as she fights an inner sentiment.

When Emilia speaks, her voice is rough with contained emotions. “I’m not sure I can adequately express to you how happy and hopeful that hearing you say all this makes me feel. Being in this industry, I was never sure if that sort of love would be out of reach for you, that level of selflessness would be elusive. I wasn’t even sure if it was something you actually wanted.”

“I know. It’s not something I’ve actively looked for. She has completely caught me off guard.”

“I think you’ve answered your own question then. You know the answer.”

Ava vigorously shakes her head in response. “She makes me feel all these things but I don’t trust her. After all her actions, cutting me off without a word, leaving me, I don’t know that I can trust her again.”

Emilia sucks in a breath and expels it slowly, reaching out with a hand to brush Ava’s hair off her face, caressing her cheek with the pad of her thumb. “Then you have to decide if she’s worth it, mi vida. If all that she makes you feel, is worth letting her try to prove it to you. She can’t regain your trust if you don’t give her a chance to.” Emilia lightly pinches Ava’s cheek affectionately. “From the sounds of it, she’s making an effort to work on herself, attending therapy to be healthier, to show up for herself and for you. Only you can decide if you want to let her close, to prove it to you. And herself.”

Pulling back, Emilia looks cautiously at Ava before opening her mouth again, “Ava… I know today has been about us as aunt and niece, talking about this as us but… I would be remiss if I didn’t ask you as a manager whether you’re sure? Whether or not you are serious about Beatrice?”

At her words, Ava shoots her palm up mid air between them. “Stop. That’s not what I need from you today. No Emilia the manager today. We agreed. When we are at home, it’s just Emilia Silva and Ava Silva. Not manager and artist.”

With a rueful grin, Emilia acquiesces. “Ok, ok.”

Almost as if on cue, Ava’s stomach grumbles audibly.

With a startle, the both of them realise they have been talking so long that the afternoon sun has given way to dusk.

Emilia chucks Ava beneath her chin, “Come my little gordita, let’s see what we want to eat for dinner then.”

—

Yasmine and Beatrice can’t rein in their excitement as they enter The Natural History Museum. The lights are moodily lit to suit the evening’s charity dinner, shadows dappling the incredible displays around them. Left and right under each archway are immense specimens, bones from mammals and dinosaurs. Above, an intact and intricate skeleton of a blue whale, suspended as if swimming freely through the vast ornate ceiling. 

It was a last minute decision, one that they had all excitedly agreed to in spite of the exhaustion. Even Suzanne had informed them that this was optional, they could rest for the evening if they wanted to while she attended in their place, but it’s for a good cause and they want to be here for it. They were present to help raise money for children in the arts, a cause close to the band’s hearts. Suzanne and Levy walked ahead with the items they had decided to sign and donate for the auction later that evening. Camila’s Otamatone was the strangest one, but she was committed and there was no way of stopping her once she got an idea in her head. 

As they approach the table their label had bought, they pass by various industry giants and their entourages, there’s studio heads, representatives, and the odd press person covering the event. A small stage has been set up for later in the evening with a few orchestra members already sitting and prepping their instruments. 

The dinner is underway with wait staff already delivering the first course by the time they take their seats. Beatrice gathers the layers of her organza dress, careful not to crease it, and sits. Her hair, back to its natural colour, is falling loosely on her bare shoulders, holding a hand to her chest mindful of the semi plunging cut of the dress, as she scoots, adjusting herself on the chair. Lilith sits to her left and Camila takes her right. They don’t have much time to discuss what's happening, but Levy passes the message along that the first speaker has already opened the charity dinner, communicating the purpose of the event and the cause they were all gathered for.

She hears it then, a voice she can pinpoint anywhere. It’s Ava. She’s here. It takes a moment to locate her in the crowd of sitting figures. She’s seated a few tables away from them, totally absorbed in conversation with the people around her. She looks breathtaking. Eyes creasing in joy, happy as she gestures animatedly. She can make out a few of her companions as well, Chanel to Ava’s left and of course to her right, sits Alice. Emilia is present also. She recognises the others at the table as artists from the same label as Ava along with their assistants and managers.

She hadn’t expected Ava to be here. Hadn’t even thought to ask Suzanne. She had just assumed Ava would be in Spain prepping for her tour.

Their current situation hits her like a ton of bricks at once. She hasn’t heard from Ava at all since showing up in Madrid. The doubts that have plagued her in the quiet moments, when she hasn’t been busy enough to drown out the noise. Her constant compulsion to reach out but needing to respect Ava’s request. Fighting the unbearable need to be near Ava. She hadn’t been prepared to see Ava tonight. At this point she truly has no idea what Ava is thinking. The lack of communication has her fearing the worst in her weakest moments. A crippling fear she dare not dwell on. 

Thank God for her therapist . 

“Oh.” Camila says flatly, beside her, “Ava is here.” It’s not delivered with the usual excitement she has upon seeing Ava. Camila doesn’t get up to rush over to Ava as she normally would.

Lilith turns in the direction Camila is looking, eyes narrowing into a semi-angry squint before turning back to their table and locking eyes with her. Lilith does something so out of character that Beatrice needs to take a moment to actually acknowledge it. Lilith's hand comes to her own, holding it in a loose embrace before she says in the softest tone she’s ever heard out of Lilith’s mouth, “We can go if you want, I’ll come up with an excuse. Maybe we can force Camila to drink the bathroom soap.” Well, that ruined the sentiment immediately.

“Hey!”

“It’s okay, this is bound to happen, it won't be the first or the last time. Not if we’re both in this industry.” She’s telling them this, but it’s mainly for herself. She’s confirming what she already knows could potentially be their future if Ava rejects her and moves on. A shooting lance of panic and pain spears through Beatrice as she contemplates that future. Uncurling her fingers, Beatrice employs the use of her breathing techniques to center herself from catastrophising.  

When the wait staff circulate the room to remove their dessert plates, her eyes wander to Ava’s table again. She’s still chatting amicably, Zori having now taken Alice’s spot on the table. Beatrice’s eyes roam the expanse of the table settings around them, looking for Alice’s blonde head, but she hears the laughter before she spots her. It’s coming from across her. Alice’s eyes find hers, she gives her a small smile before returning to her conversation with Levy. If Alice knows they’re here then that must mean Ava also knows they’re here.

At that moment, Suzanne comes to her and lowers herself down, hovering by her right ear, “The event organisers would like for you to do a song with the orchestra.” Suzanne is speaking to Beatrice but the words don’t register in her mind because her eyes have met Ava’s. Ava having spotted Beatrice as she turned in her seat, giving Beatrice a little wave. Her heart jumps at the instinctual need to reciprocate it, so she does, earning a cute toothy smile. “Would you want to?” Suzanne is asking her a question and she’s trying to figure out what the beginning of their conversation was, but she can’t seem to focus on Suzanne so she nods in reply, eyes still looking at Ava. Ava’s dress has an angular cut out at the back, a plunging back line revealing the smooth expanse of Ava’s spine and shoulder blades . Suzanne turns to someone beside her then lowers herself back to Beatrice’s ear,“What song would you like to do?”

At that, she startles out of her thoughtful contemplation of Ava and her dress, she can’t have heard correctly. “I’m sorry what? What song—what?”

Suzanne’s eyes are piercing hers, like she’s running out of patience for Beatrice’s nonsense. “What song would you like the musical director to prepare for you?”

What did she just agree to? 

Beatrice stands, smoothing her hands down her dress, turning to face both Suzanne and the conductor who is regarding her, waiting for an answer. “Any genre you’re partial to?” She asks.

“Jazz.”

The night and charity event is well advanced by the time she’s set to take to the stage. The orchestra musicians are ready to begin her selection, they’re anticipating the conductor's cue to start. Beatrice stands in front of the microphone at the center, the single spotlight blocking out her view of the crowd in front of her, all still conversing and sipping drinks. The percussion and the strings begin the song and Beatrice focuses. She doesn’t usually sing in this registry, other than for herself, hopefully her emotions and legatos are enough to distract if there are a few runs when going down to the low timbre. 

(*)

It's not the pale moon that excites me

That thrills and delights me, oh no

It's just the nearness of you

It isn't your sweet conversation

That brings this sensation, oh no

It's just the nearness of you

—

Ava’s enthralled. 

On stage, Beatrice is highlighted by a single spotlight, her eyes closed and face focused as she croons into the microphone, the beautiful timbre of her voice casting a spell over the audience.

Lowly, to her right, she can hear Chanel murmuring to Zori, “Wow! This is unexpected. She’s quite talented, the richness of her voice is amazing.” Zori whispers an agreement.

Ava can’t help the pride and warmth blossoming in her chest. Proud that others get to experience Beatrice’s talent, to hear her sing jazz, witness her artistry. She’s sure the industry greats in the room are all pricking up their ears at the performance.

Her smile abruptly vanishes at Chanel’s next words. “Fuck…she’s also as hot as she is talented.”

Ava feels the small hairs on the back of her neck bristle, trying to fight back a snarl that’s threatening to creep across her face. A vein is throbbing in her neck. Alice must sense some disturbance in the force because she swings around to look at Ava. 

“Look at the neckline on that dress and those arms. I wouldn’t say no to that… Zori, what’s actually on auction today? Do you know? Is a date with her on offer?”

At that, Ava loses the last vestiges of her control, swinging wildly towards Chanel and barking out a loud “NO! She’s not!”

Emilia immediately looks over at her from across the table, frowning at her and mouthing at her, “ Cállate. ”

Alice is quietly shushing her and placing a calming hand on her arm. She hadn’t even noticed that she had balled up her fist in fury. 

Chanel is looking suitably cowed by her anger, “Okay, okay she’s not,” before turning back towards Zori, muttering a barely audible “What’s her problem? Jeez...”

She needs to remove herself from this situation . Shoving her seat back, Ava stands up.

Alice grabs ahold of her forearm, forehead wrinkled in consternation, “Ava, what are you doing? Where are you going?”

Pulling her arm from Alice’s hold, she waves her off as she begins to walk away from the table. 

She’s fighting the frustration and jealousy curling its way through the pit of her stomach.

—

When you're in my arms

And I feel you so close to me

All my wildest dreams come true

I need no soft lights to enchant me

If you'll only grant me the right

To hold you ever so tight

And to feel in the night

The nearness of you

—

When she finally opens her eyes at the end of the song, there’s a moment of collective silence before the room bursts into applause. She hears a piercing whistle echo throughout the vast space, Mary. She bows, holding a hand to the front of her dress as she does so. 

The spotlight shining down had completely blocked her view of Ava at her table. As the orchestra had drawn the first notes, the music swelling and she had opened her mouth to sing, she had closed her eyes, focusing on thoughts of Ava and Ava alone. Pretending that they were alone in a room together and that she was singing this to Ava. 

Directly conveying the depth of her feelings, her hopes for them, to Ava. Taking them forward from the events chronicled in the journal to … she has to know .

So lost in her thoughts, in her musings of a possible future, she startles at the appearance of Ava beside her as she walks off stage. 

Ava falling into step beside her.

“Beatrice! That was a beautiful performance.” Ava’s smile, while genuine, looks a little too wide and agitated. 

“Have you read the journal?” Beatrice blurts out. Stupid . She hadn’t even greeted her or thanked her . But she couldn’t help herself. She had to know. It was the only thought engulfing her very being.

Ava looks taken aback at the abruptness of the question, fumbling to answer, “Uh, yes. I have. I’m so sorry, I didn’t know that I would see you today otherwise I would’ve brought the journal with me.”

Why would Ava need to bring the journal? 

A tendril of dread begins to creep up.

“Why would you bring the journal with you? It’s for you.”

Ava has turned to her now, stopped in her tracks. She stops too. Ava reaches a hand out to lightly tap Beatrice’s forearm, voice light, “Beatrice, it’s important to you. It’s your journal, with your thoughts and lyrics. You might need it…” Ava’s voice trails off. 

Beatrice is narrowing her eyes as Ava talks… why is her tone so light? It sounds forced. Almost as if… no. Why does she keep trying to return the journal? Is - is Ava…?

Forcing down her mounting anxiety, Beatrice tries again, bursting out with, “What did you think about the poem?” at the same time Ava continues, almost paying Beatrice no heed as she muses, “I suppose I could have it shipped to–”

Their voices overlap midair.

Both hesitate, taking a moment to actually hear and process the other’s words.

Again their voices overlap, “What poem?” “What do you mean have it shipped to me!?” Beatrice’s voice escalates in sharpness and volume as she enunciates every word in the sentence. She’s virtually yelling at Ava by the end.

Fuck . 

Her chest is expanding and contracting at an alarming rate, her heart is hammering and she can feel the rushing of all the noise of the room filling her ears.

This is why Ava came up to her. This is why she looked so strange. Wide smile but agitated. She’s trying to do it nicely. This is happening. Here and now. In public. Ava’s about to tell her she’s made her choice. And it’s not Beatrice.

She’s walking away from Beatrice. For good.

Beatrice is tasting that sour taste in her mouth, she feels sick to her stomach. It’s all she can do not to hunch over as her emotional pain manifests physically. 

She’s trying not to cause a scene, hyperventilating under the pressure. Unbidden, her father’s disapproving eyes and voice floats through her head, “ Don’t cause a scene dear. It’s not proper. ”

Ava is talking to her.  Ava’s saying something. “Beatrice, what poem? I’m not sure what you mean.”

Anger and panic is coating Beatrice’s words “What do you mean what poem? You read the journal! Are you?! Are you saying…?” 

She’s not supposed to yell. It’s not proper. Don’t show your emotions dear.  

Beatrice is unable to formulate her words, panic surging through her entire body, pain gripping at her heart.

I’ve got to get out of here . I need to leave . 

Spinning around, Beatrice makes a beeline for her table, away from Ava. She’s walking as fast as she can in these heels, fast but not too fast. Don’t cause a scene . 

Arriving back at the table, Lilith and Camila are startled at the speed of her arrival and her obvious agitation. “What’s wrong?” They say in tandem, eyes going somewhere behind her.

Beatrice is grabbing her clutch and her phone, frantically muttering “I have to go, I have to leave. Tell Suzanne for me. I’m sorry. I have to get out of here.” 

Without waiting for an answer, she’s storming towards the exit of the hall, fleeing as fast as she can, the dress allowing her to move freely. 

Fuck it . Who cares if people notice, she just needs to make it out of eyesight before she breaks . 

She’s vaguely aware that Ava had followed her to her table.

Her chest is heaving with exertion, from what she doesn’t know. The exertion of sprinting out of the function or the exertion of keeping the tears at bay or the bawl that’s clawing its way out of her. 

Not until she’s out of sight .

She makes a deal with herself. She just needs to hold off until she’s on the sidewalk then she can let the pain and sorrow of Ava walking away, of it being over, of having fucked up take over. She just has to get there.

She’s made it down the steps outside the museum, front foot on the sidewalk. She’s made it. Now she can fall apart. 

That’s when she hears it. Hears Ava bellow out “BEATRICE. STOP!” She stops. Ava, indifferent to who hears and how much attention it alerts. Ava is tumbling down next to her, out of breath from racing to catch up to her. Seizing her by the shoulders and forcing her to meet her eyes, giving her a small shake. “What poem Beatrice? Tell me. What poem?”

When Beatrice opens her mouth, a strangled whine comes out. Shutting her mouth, she pauses and tries again. “The poem. I slipped the page into the front of the journal. You should’ve seen it when you opened it.”

She’s confused. Had Ava not read the poem? Or maybe it didn’t have the impact she had hoped for. 

She’s not quite sure what to think. What to make of Ava chasing her down the steps. Is Ava angry that she had once again tried to flee?

At her reply, there’s a dawn of comprehension spreading across Ava’s face. Ava’s face smoothing into understanding. “I didn’t read the poem Beatrice. When I opened the journal, everything burst open. It must have been a page that fell out and I didn’t see it.”

Ava’s hands are clutching tighter on her shoulders now. Almost as if she’s afraid Beatrice will run again. “Tell me.” Ava’s eyes are looking into hers imploringly.

Beatrice begins to recite the poem she had penned. It’s not perfect. As she starts, she stutters her way through the first line, barely gulping enough air into her lungs, “ Every night I empty my heart, but by morning it's full again. Slow droplets of you seep in through the night's soft caress .” Her voice wavers and cracks as a result of her emotional state. “ At dawn, I overflow with thoughts of us, an aching pleasure that gives me no respite. ” Slowly, as she gets towards the middle of the prose, her voice gathers strength and clarity. “ Love cannot be contained, the neat packaging of desire splits asunder, spilling crimson through my days. Long, languishing days that are now bruised tender with yearning, spent searching for a fingerprint, a scent, a breath you left behind. ”

She finishes. 

Looking down at Ava, Ava looking back at her. 

Without a word, Ava slips her hands from her shoulders. She almost gasps at the loss, unsteady and unsure.

Instead, Ava reaches forward, entwining their fingers, grasping her by the hand and begins pulling her along the sidewalk, away from the museum. 

As Ava navigates the streets, it’s clear she’s searching for the nearest Tube station.

All in silence.

They make their way through the station scanning their phones through the gates. A spectacle in evening wear. Ava keeps eyeing her but Ava refuses to talk. She’s not certain that she’s supposed to talk either. She’s not sure what Ava intends.

Ava leads her onto a train, off a train, switching to another train. All the while keeping her hand tightly clasped in hers as they stand upright in a corner of the train carriage. 

It’s not until she recognises the Tube line she’s on and the direction that they’re headed in that she realises. They’re heading towards her flat. 

Ava leans close to her ear and whispers, “I love you.”

Chapter Text

(*)

Tú, coleccionista de canciones

(You, song collector)

Dame razones para vivir

(Give me reasons to live)

Tú, la dueña de mis sueños

(You, owner of my dreams)

Quédate en ellos y hazme sentir

(Stay in them and make me feel)

Y así en tu misterio poder descubrir el sentimiento eterno

(And in your mystery let me discover my feelings eternally)

The street leading to Beatrice’s flat is silent apart from the echoes of their heels against the pavement. They walk side by side, hands intertwined, thumbs periodically stroking up and down. Not a word has been spoken between them aside from the exchange of ‘I love you’s’ in the train carriage. 

The moon is large and luminous above them, a chill in the air as the coolness of the Autumn night begins to take hold. The street lights are few and spaced out, casting deep shadows of inky black where the light doesn’t reach. Their strides are sure and steady belying the anticipation that is burgeoning between them as they get closer and closer to Beatrice’s flat. Ava turns her head to catch the elegant side profile of Beatrice, the moon and streetlight casting her with an ethereal glow, heady thoughts forming faster than she can process them. Beatrice swings the gate open with a squeak of the hinges, holding it open for Ava to enter. She catches a glimpse of Beatrice’s eyes raking down her figure as she passes by. 

In sync, the two hasten their pace as they walk through the garden towards the front door of the maisonette. As they approach, Beatrice is fumbling through her clutch to locate her keys, peering down with the aid of the moonlight at the keys to locate the right one.

The anticipation is palpable.  

Beatrice’s hand is jittery, the keys jumping in her hold as she struggles to fit the key into the lock. With a jingle, the keys slip from Beatrice’s grasp to the ground.

An audible sigh escapes from both of them.

Tú con la luna en la cabeza

(You with the moon in your head)

El lugar en donde empieza

(The place where it starts)

El motivo y la ilusión de mi existir

(The reason and the illusion of my existence)

Tan solo tú

(Only you)

Ava leans down to scoop up the keys.

Hearing Beatrice swallow audibly behind her, she inserts the key into the lock and swings the door open. They both crowd into the stairway, Beatrice turning to lock the door behind them. Silently, with nothing but the thumping of her heartbeat to accompany them, they begin to climb the stairs towards Beatrice’s flat. Dimly, Ava registers that Beatrice has added a few new picture frames to line the walls.

Reaching the door atop the stairs, Beatrice reaches forward to swing it open, ushering Ava in with a warm palm on her waist. 

Stepping into the flat, Ava takes in the familiar furnishings, slats of moonlight streaming in through the unshuttered windows. Everything exactly as she remembers it. Beatrice shifts past her to deposit the keys and her clutch with their phones into the bowl by the front door. 

Solamente quiero que seas tú

(I only want it to be you)

Mi locura, mi tranquilidad y mi delirio

(My insanity, my tranquility, and my delirium)

Mi compás y mi camino

(My compass and my path)

With a rustle of her dress, Beatrice is sinking to her knees, reaching for Ava and gently pulling her towards her. Beatrice is looking up at her, eyes hooded and dark. 

Time stills. 

Solo tú

(Only you)

Solamente quiero que seas tú

(I only want it to be you)

Pongo en tus manos mi destino, porque vivo para estar, siempre, siempre, contigo, amor

(I put my destiny in your hands, because I live to stay eternally, eternally, with you, my love)

Beatrice’s left hand comes to the top of Ava’s exposed thigh. Her palm is warm and a bit clammy, but it glides downward, caressing the expanse of the leg down, past the calf, finishing at the buckle of Ava’s heel strap. As she unbuckles the heel, Beatrice places a kiss on her inner thigh, and Ava’s stomach swoops with how unexpected the move is. Beatrice gently pulls off the heel, slowly lowering Ava’s foot to the floor. Reaching over she repeats the motion for the other heel. With the task complete, Beatrice looks up at Ava, affection clear through her gaze. Internally, Ava swoons . 

Beatrice stands quickly, kicking off her own heels towards the shoe shelf.

They’re staring at each other now. Waiting. Neither making the first move. Both feeling the air change around them. Beatrice is breathing raggedly, Ava can see it with just how fast her chest is rising and falling, and if she could see herself in a mirror she’d probably see herself in the same state.

Tú coleccionista de canciones

(You, song collector)

Mil emociones son para tí

(A thousand emotions are for you)

Tú lo que soñé en mi vida entera

(You, everything I've ever dreamt of)

Quédate en ella y hazme sentir

(Stay in my life and make me feel)

Y así ir transformando la magia de tí en un respiró del alma

(And I'll transform the magic within you into my breath)

“I’d like to take your dress off you now.” Beatrice says desperately, eyes caught somewhere around her chest.

“I would really like it if you did.”

From the moment the words leave her lips and after all the silence, the composition finally begins—two melodies once kept apart now weaving into a perfect harmony, as if the Universe had finally lifted the mute button on their love.

Beatrice surges forward, hand wrapping itself behind Ava’s neck, an action that is both assertive and tender. Their lips stop a fraction before meeting, both curving into smiles, expressions of unadulterated happiness at the moment. 

They crash into each other. A muffled sigh at the contact works its way out from Ava’s mouth. 

Finally .