Chapter Text
You
Despite the busy lunch shift you had just worked at the bar, you were feeling in high spirits as you walked home, looking forward to the evening of freedom. The sun was shining and the music playing through your headphones seemed to have been composed just for you; your feet stepping out to the beat along the pavement, a smile tugging at your lips. The lyrics just hit right, and wanting to share the mood with someone, you pulled out your phone and opened the text chat for your boyfriend, Tom. You hadn't seen him all week, his work keeping him away, and sharing the song felt like a good way to connect with him. Gods knew, you needed it. Things had been feeling a bit flat lately. The link sent through and almost immediately the ticks turned blue.
Tom: Not a good time. I will give it a listen later, though xx.
Your spirits dipped slightly, the smile vanishing from your lips. His reply was short, but he could be busy. It also implied that he didn't even know the track you had sent. Maybe not too surprising, your music tastes did differ. That shouldn't really matter because music spoke to people in different ways, but a twinge of frustration lit through you all the same. It wasn't exactly a judgement on his music taste, and more a gentle reminder that he didn't really get you. The deeper emotional understanding that the track represented to you was the connection you craved, the lyrics speaking to something deep inside of yourself in a way that people just couldn't seem to manage. Tom had never really been very good with that since you had started to get to know him, and even now, you doubted he would listen to the track. If he did, then he would do it out of duty, and likely not get the meaning behind it. Music was a means to an end for him, a background tool. You doubted a soaring chorus had ever invoked goosebumps along his skin. Tom liked order, everything in its place. He liked stability and rarely dared to be impulsive. He liked to do his research and consider all options before taking a step, whereas you were more open to spontaneity and maybe even a bit of chaos.
But, opposites were meant to attract right? Tom was a good person, he would never let you down.
You: Not to worry. Speak to you later?
The ticks turned blue to your reply, and then he reacted to the message with a thumbs up.
Resisting the urge to sigh, you tilted your head back, enjoying the warmth of the sun on your face. Today was a good day. Life was good. As if to reaffirm this, you set the next track to repeat; another track you liked, and recently discovered.
You arrived home, a large Victorian house that had been converted into four flats. Your dad had called this place 'cheap and cheerful' when he found it for you, talking up the studio style living space on the upper floor whilst you had stood there gazing around with the sinking realisation that his efforts to help you 'get back on your feet' meant you would be alone again. You had been crashing at his place after another failed relationship, only intending to be there for a short time; but you had got comfortable. He worked long hours, sometimes staying away for a few days at a time, and this meant that you'd had his bachelor pad mostly to yourself. His presence had still lingered, though; you knew he would be coming back at some point. Staying with him had always meant to be temporary, but the initial kick out the door had felt like an insult to start with. He had claimed you were an adult and more than capable of being independent. He was absolutely right, but you had dug your heels in for as long as you could get away with.
18 months down the line and you actually loved your little space. 'Cheap and cheerful' to your dad actually had more of a homely feel to it than you had anticipated. A lot of original features remained in the building, from the cast iron fireplace to the sash windows, to the groaning plumbing and decorative coving on the high ceilings. Vintage and cosy you had decided. Living alone had been more healing than you had expected. You didn't need someone to rely on. You had your friends, and a job that felt like it could pass for a social life, and now you had Tom, too.
You nodded your head to the music playing in your ears as you opened your mail locker in the downstairs entrance hall, sifting through the junk and tucking the important looking stuff into your bag. A shadow stretched over you, blocking the light filtering through the stained glass surrounding the main front door, and you looked up. A cheeky smile and sparkling blue eyes greeted you, your mouth instantly curving into a greeting smile for your neighbour; your eyes taking in the dark hooded sweatshirt and ripped jeans, his battered Vans in need of a damned good clean. IV - an unusual nickname, but one that seemed to be held with some affection - lived in the flat opposite to yours. He had welcomed you to the building, always greeting you with a smile whenever you passed in the hallway. As time had passed, his smiles had turned into little chats, leading into playful and flirty remarks, earning a blush or two on your cheeks. Ever since he had helped you get your job at the bar where you worked now, saving you from the mind numbingly boring waitress position you'd had before in a cafe, a friendship had struck up between you.
He pulled his earbud from his ear, and you nudged one cup of your headphones back from yours; since both of you tended to wander around with music in your ears, this had become your habitual signal for chat.
"You alright, darling?" He greeted, the endearment slipping effortlessly off his tongue in his lilting accent. "Just got off work?"
You nodded. "Not bad, you?"
"You know me, cruising along like always," he shrugged. He leant casually against the wall beside your mail locker, his arm lifting to touch a finger to your headphones. "What are you listening to?"
"My playlist is on random, but you might like this current track," you smirked, tugging your headphones free to hand over to him. Strands of your hair pulled loose from your ponytail, falling over your face. As IV reached to take your headphones, his fingers moved past them to brush your hair back for you, his fingertips grazing gently across your temple. Your eyes met at the touch in a clash of acknowledgement, his lips quirking up slightly, but he said nothing as he then took the headphones from your grasp. You swallowed thickly as you watched him remove his other ear bud before placing them onto his head.
He nodded along to the track, a smile of recognition lighting up his face before he slipped the headphones free again. "Ah, Dashboard Confessional. So, you did take my recommendation on board. Nice one!"
You took back the headphones, blushing under his approval. If there was one thing you two definitely had in common, it was a love of discovering cool music and sharing that with friends. You couldn't help but make a comparison. IV understood the assignment when it came to music. "Of course. You haven't let me down, yet."
"Glad to be of service," he grinned. "So, night off tonight? Hot date with your man?"
Your blush deepened, your fingers tucking your hair nervously behind your ear. "No, just a quiet one tonight. Tom is busy with work. What about you? Any young lady lined up for a good time?"
"Nah, not tonight. Heading off to rehearsals," he smiled, tugging at the cords on his hooded sweatshirt.
"Oh, right. For those gigs in Europe you mentioned," you nodded, closing and locking your mailbox.
"Yeah, that's it. Just some guitar playing for a touring band. No big deal," he shrugged. You met his gaze, not missing the unmistakable gleam of playfulness in his eyes.
"Still sounds like fun, though," you mused, a slither of envy at his lifestyle slipping through you. It felt so free and adventurous. "Who's the band you're playing for?"
"Ah, it's a secret," he said, tapping the side of his nose, his head tilting. "Can't tell you, darling. Not unless you want to hand over your soul to me in exchange."
His little wink and mischievous grin had you giving him a playful shove as you headed for the staircase. "Fine, don't tell me," you huffed, fighting your own smile.
"I'd take good care of it," he said, following you to the stairs, his hand grasping the large, decorative wooden post at the bottom. "I'm up for the trade if you are."
You paused on the stairs, glancing back down to him, a flutter of enjoyment sparking to life in your tummy at his little tease. The light shining through the stained glass coloured his dark hair, capturing him in an almost ethereal rainbow, the angelic aesthetic making you wonder if he really might take good care of your soul if given the chance.
Your teeth worried at your lower lip as you felt the impact of his puppy dog eyes. It still caught you off guard how he could be teasing you one moment, and then appealing to your inner softness the next. You shouldn't be playing up to his flirtations. This was all just a game to him. He was a habitual flirt, and yet you seemed to play along every time anyway despite having a man in your life.
"I would need a lot more than a band name in order to give up my soul," you said, adjusting your bag on your shoulder. His gaze travelled slowly downwards over you, his head tilting to one side as though giving you careful consideration. "Such as?" Something darker that danced on the edge of naughty entered his eyes, his voice a tone lower.
You huffed with dry amusement, rolling your eyes to cover the hot tingle that flickered inside of you. "Never you mind. Enjoy your rehearsal," you called, climbing the stairs. You heard his little chuckle and chose to ignore the way it made that tingle glow even warmer.
"See you later, darling."
As you entered your little flat, dumping your bag onto the sofa, you pondered over the little flirting game that existed between you and your neighbour. It had always been a bit of harmless fun, although Tom didn't see it that way. He claimed IV had an untrustworthy vibe, despite them only seeing each other a few times in the hall, or if IV was around at the bar whenever Tom met you from work. You always shrugged off IV's flirtations, but that flare of something tingling away deep inside of you had felt a bit too real just now. Maybe you ought to not encourage IV anymore. After all, you were with Tom, and the fact that this didn't seem to bother IV at all should be waving a little red flag at you. Right?
You made some food and set up camp on your sofa, flicking through Netflix for something to watch, settling on a romantic comedy you had seen before for some easy viewing. As you watched the relationship unfold on screen, your thoughts drifted back towards Tom. Safe, dependable, Tom. Polite, well meaning, one of the good guys. Maybe too good, you pondered warily.
After several failed attempts with the bad boys, you had almost given up hope on finding a relationship worth fighting for. You had caved to your best friend's suggestions to join dating apps; meeting Tom through one and bravely going for that first date. Everything about him screamed the opposite of what you usually went for, and you knew that it had been a deliberate choice. You were done being played, tired of trying to please someone who gave crumbs back in return. His predictability offered safety.
The last couple of months had been safe, stable, dependable. That's what you wanted, wasn't it? Tom was what you wanted.
So, what was that restless feeling that teased deep in your bones? You could ignore it, could deny it as much as you wanted, but something was shifting. You found yourself wanting…more. More of what, though, you just weren't quite sure.
IV
Tucking his beer bottle under his arm, he clapped his hands, nodding in appreciation as the bloke who had been singing on stage gave a quick bow of thanks before stepping down. He'd had a good style to his singing, a gravelly sound to his voice that went really well with his song choice. IV had always enjoyed the open mic nights here at his favourite bar, and tonight was no different. He might even get up there himself, not one to turn down the opportunity to show off. The stage had always been a safe space for him, a place to unleash all that lay buried inside his chest through the release of powerful vocals, his fingers working the magic from his guitar. The surge of pleasure and adrenaline was a hard rush to beat, and a responsive crowd magnified that glow. He couldn't imagine ever wanting to do anything else, and considered himself a lucky bloke indeed to do what he did, touring and performing in some of the most amazing cities in the world.
Glancing to the side, he had to look up to see the matching appreciation on his mate's face, III's beanpole frame towering over IV, his arms raised as he, too, clapped his approval. Their eyes met and III nodded. "Not bad, huh? You getting up there?"
"I didn't bring my guitar," IV said, tapping his fingers on the side of his beer bottle, his gaze catching over III's shoulder towards the bar. Distracted for a beat, he stared across towards the girl serving. His neighbour. The girl whose eyes danced with something that kept pulling him in, no matter how hard he tried to maintain a distance. She was taken. He had to keep reminding himself of that whenever his eyes lingered on her curves, the shape of her mouth. He loved to watch her smile, the way it transformed her face, even better if he teased a laugh from her lips. Always, he had to admire from a distance, dancing a line between being inappropriate and a good boy; daring to flirt in the only way he knew how - by behaving like a cheeky little shit. How she hadn't told him to fuck off yet was a mystery.
"I'm sure we could rustle one up for you," III said, taking a swig from his glass. He frowned slightly at the faraway expression on IV's face, glancing back over his shoulder, scanning the bar. "Whatcha looking at?"
"Nothing," IV said, taking a long drag of beer from his bottle, turning his attention back to the stage. A girl was settling onto the stool with her acoustic guitar. "Not seen this lass before. Wonder what she is going to sing?"
III nudged his elbow into IV, a smirk teasing under his moustache. "Hmm, nothing, eh? How are things with your little neighbour? She's looking rather lovely tonight."
IV tried to roll his eyes but failed miserably, his lips compressing against the little smile that wanted to escape free. His eyes shifted back towards the bar, his foot lifting to tap his toes against the floor in an agitated bounce as he watched her serve a customer with that winning smile. He ruffled his hair and shook his head. "She's great," he said, his shoulders lifting in a shrug. "All loved up with her very sensible boyfriend, Tom, with the good day job and sharp suits."
III screwed his nose up, turning to look at her behind the bar again. "Really? She's still seeing him? I did not call that being her type at all," he said.
"He don't like me much, either," IV smirked. "Looks down his nose at me whenever I catch him leaving her flat."
"That's because you are Mr Steal Yo Girl," III chuckled, nudging into IV again. "I see you two playing the flirty game. Dude has got to notice the chemistry."
IV ignored the short, sharp flare of hope at that thought. "We're mates. She's cool."
"She always looks proper lit to see you, and she has been popping up in conversation more lately. I give you a month before you're balls deep."
IV chuckled, picking at the label on his beer bottle. He fixed his gaze on her again, something determined flaring in his belly. "That long?"
III threw his head back and laughed, clapping IV on the shoulder. "Always loved your confidence, IV. I don't doubt it, either. Does she know why we call you IV?"
IV shook his head. "Not yet. I was so tempted to tell her the other day when she asked who we were touring with in Europe. I teased her a bit, hoped she would push for it, but she let it go."
"Just tell her," III shrugged. "Tell her and invite her along. Did you ask for any family and friends passes? I've got one spare if not. Guaranteed to get her knickers off."
Wincing slightly, IV lowered his gaze, turning his attention back towards the stage. He might talk the big game, but did he really want to steal her from another bloke? He had meant it when he said she was cool. The last thing he would want to do is hurt her, or ruin things for her; but at the same time, he wouldn't kick her out of bed given half the chance either - boyfriend be damned. That would be all he had to offer, though - a bit of fun. It had been a while since he had let anyone get close, drifting from one hook up to the next, maintaining a distance to avoid complications. He doubted that would be enough for her, that he would be enough.
As he listened to the angelic vocal filling the venue, he realised he had let his lovely neighbour get close already. When he left his flat, he couldn't help the twinge of anticipation that he might pass her on the stairs. How often did he come into this bar when he was at a loose end in the hope that she would be on shift? Why did he even tell her about the job here in the first place? Oh yeah, because it meant he would have even more chances to speak to her.
Mr Steal Yo Girl, indeed.
Judging by the bloke who currently warmed her bed, IV doubted she would want him, especially not for the long term. She didn't look like the type to fuck around behind your back either, but people could always surprise you, he supposed. He turned over III's suggestion in his head, weighed the idea, and found himself wanting. It scared the shit out of him in a way. Would he really chase after her, break up her relationship for a fast fuck, then walk away? It would leave an inferno of chaos in his wake, surely.
Could he leave her alone, though? That was the trouble.
"I'll see," he said, not wanting to commit to anything. She could even say no. Why would she travel across Europe with a bunch of strangers? Tommy Smart Suits wouldn't like it, either. IV doubted the bloke had ever set foot inside a festival in his life; he always sat at the bar with a pained expression on live music nights, and that's if he even showed his face at all.
"Well, the pass is there if you want it, mate," III said. "If you're gonna ask her, don't leave it too much longer. She will need time to book off work and all that."
"Cheers, III. I will think about it," IV said, taking another swig from his beer. He was already thinking about it, picturing her backstage at his side, having her see him perform on a proper, full scale stage and not just some tiny platform in a music bar. She seemed to enjoy music, taking on board his suggestions. When he sent her a track to listen to he couldn't stop his smile at her texts back. If she didn't know the song already, then she would listen and chat back and forth with him. Gorgeous, and switched on with music. Did Tommy Smart Suits even know what he held in his arms?
"Another round?" III wiggled his now empty glass with a questioning look.
"I'll get this one," IV offered, taking the empty glass.
III grinned. "Any excuse to chat her up, eh?"
Arriving at the bar, IV leant casually against it, aiming a smile towards her. She caught his eye as she handed over some drinks to another customer, an answering smile curving her lips. He waited patiently, tilting back his head as he listened to the current performance on stage.
"Same again?" She asked, approaching him.
"Please, darling."
She took his preferred bottle of beer from the fridge and placed it before him on the bar. "Are you going up on stage tonight?"
"Would you like me to?" He grinned.
She gave him a careful side eyed glance as she prepared III's mixer. "I think you should do whatever makes you happy."
"Not sure Tom would be agreeable to that," he winked, pulling out his bank card. He knew that comment was bordering on inappropriate, and perhaps he shouldn't have said it. He blamed the beer, not the low cut top that kept drawing his gaze somewhere very tempting.
A flush of pink coloured her cheeks. "Oi, cheeky," she gently scolded, holding out the card reader.
He smirked. "Sorry, darling. I know I can be a cheeky git sometimes. Maybe I could go on stage and dedicate a song to you. Would that put me back into your good books?"
She gave him a considering look. "I wouldn't say you were in my bad books, but if you want to get on my good side, you can walk home with me later if you're able."
His interest perked up at that. "Oh? No lover boy tonight, then?"
She shook her head, her mouth twisting. "He went away again today, won't be back till mid week. If you can't stay that late, it's okay. I can call an Uber."
"Nah, don't do that. Save your money. I'll hang back and walk with you. We're headed to the same place after all," he said. He picked up his beer and took a sip, his gaze drifting over her. "Tom has been working away a lot recently."
She nodded, a shadow crossing her face, but she shook it off with a smile and slight shrug. "Hopefully, this is the last time for a while. He has promised to make up for it, starting with tickets to see his football team play next weekend."
IV quirked an eyebrow. "I didn't know you were into football."
Her teeth pressed into her lower lip as she cringed. "I'm not," she admitted awkwardly. "But, Tom wanted us to spend some time together, and it's his team."
Again, IV had to wonder if Tom knew what he had. After being away, his idea of spending time with his beautiful girlfriend was to take her to a football match. As IV studied her, he realised it wasn't what she wanted, but she would take what was on offer. It made a twinge of annoyance course through him. She deserved better, she deserved more effort. Did Tommy Smart Suits even know her at all?
"If you were my girl, you wouldn't be seeing the light of day for at least 48 hours if I'd been away," he said, a naughty smirk on his lips. "I would need you all to myself."
"I thought you were trying to get on my good side," she drawled, hand on hip. Her little pout of annoyance was just too cute, and it didn't seem to match the glimmer of amusement in her eyes.
"Give me 48 hours and find out." He grinned, still pushing his luck.
"IV!" She gasped, glancing around.
He chuckled, picking up III's drink. "Sorry, darling, you know I'm just teasing you. Cheers for these," he said, holding up the drinks. "And don't worry about getting home. I'll see you there safely."
"Thank you," she said, her mouth melting into a little smile.
Something tugged inside of him; for all his teasing, she still gave him a smile. As he made his way back over to III, he knew he couldn't leave it alone. Something crackled in the air between them, something which kept drawing him in. He couldn't seem to keep his mouth shut around her, and he found himself daring to wonder if things between her and Tom we're not as rosy as he once thought.
The urge to play the bad boy kicked in hard. He bit his lip as he pondered over it, temptation licking like fire in his belly. He gave III the nod and put his name down for the stage, and III went in search of a guitar, managing to borrow one from a bloke they knew. A particular song came into his head, and he wondered how bold he dare be, his gaze pulled back to the bar again.
He had always enjoyed open mic nights, but this could be his most audacious moment ever. It would either make her laugh, or he would be going down in flames.
You
It wasn't guilt that had you checking your phone to see if there were any messages from Tom (there weren't), and you were definitely not following IV's movements as he chatted with others in the bar. He seemed extra flirty this evening, and now you had acknowledged the glimmer of fire in your tummy that seemed to awake in his presence, it wouldn't go away. Distracted at the suggestion of his words, you began to doubt the wisdom of your request to have him walk home with you. He literally lived across the hall from you, it made perfect sense to walk with him; and yet, you were trying to justify it in your head, reassuring yourself of the practicality in it in case Tom asked.
You winced. It seemed a little similar to how you'd tried to justify Tom taking you to a football match at the weekend; he was trying to spend time with you, did it really matter what the activity was? The niggling feeling in the depths of your soul whispered about trying to placate for the sake of peace, somehow trying to rationalise your actions as though you needed permission to do things. You were your own person, right? You shouldn't need to explain and defend yourself. The urge to do so seemed to be ingrained into your personality at this point though, and it had you sighing in annoyance at yourself.
Then, you thought about IV's suggestion of vanishing for a couple of days; images of being tangled up in bed sheets, watching old movies and eating snacks, long soaks together in the bath, taking pleasure from each other in the lost hours. That did sound preferable than being squished in amongst a bunch of football fanatics. Great, if that's what you were into, but you were more at home squished in with more like minded people, bouncing around to a live band. That was an experience that made you feel connected, the goosebumps lifting on your skin at the impact of hundreds of voices lifted in song together. You debated texting Tom and asking if he fancied changing the plans for the weekend, but knew deep down that he wouldn't be on board with it. He wasn't the type to lay in bed all day. He was up and out for a run every morning at 6am, his whole day planned to precision. The images of a lazy, intimate day in bed with Tom morphed into sharing it with IV instead. You would wager that he would be the type to drag you back into bed, demanding your attention all day, wherever it took you. The image solidified in your head, your gaze lingering on IV across the room.
This was dangerous territory.
As you grabbed a basket to begin collecting some empties from around the bar, you mused over your thoughts, trying desperately not to imagine being tangled up with IV for 48 hours. You really shouldn't be thinking like that, or encouraging him so that these forbidden ideas took root and tried to thrive. Even now, as you placed dirty glasses into your tray, your eyes sought IV out as he began to prepare to get on stage. You slowed in your task, watching as he put a guitar strap over his head, adjusting it comfortably before testing the strings with a few strums. Damn, he looked good holding a guitar.
It wasn't the first time you had seen him perform on open mic night, you knew he could play and sing; he could belt out an impressive scream, too. You'd always had a bit of a soft spot for guitar boys and tonight, your eyes were pinned on this particular one, wondering what song he was going to tackle. You made a mental note to find out which band he was touring in Europe with, wanting to do some digging online to see what he was like on a professional stage.
You moved a bit closer, still collecting the odd glass and bottle, but your attention was mostly on IV as he stepped up to the mic and greeted the room. He had swagger, that cheeky confidence bleeding through as he strummed his guitar to the welcoming applause.
"This one is dedicated to a special friend of mine," he said, a grin flashing across his face. His eyes focused on you, as though he knew exactly where you were without even needing to search. "They know who they are."
You felt your heart rate kick up a notch. He wasn't really dedicating a song to you, was he? You thought he had been joking. Your eyes flicked towards where III was standing and you realised he was looking at you, too, a smirk on his face. Shit.
IV began to play, the riff sounding familiar, a pop punk track that tickled at your memory. A crease appeared on your brow as you tried to place it, III tipping his head back with a cackling laugh.
"Scotty doesn't know that Fiona and me do it in my van every Sunday…"
You went very still, your eyes now glued to IV as he began to belt out the lyrics into the mic. You were vaguely aware of the crowded bar responding to the catchy track that was quite popular in the early 2000s, some beginning to jump and dance in front of the stage, a fair few singing along. The suggestive tone of the lyrics had the heat flaring on your cheeks, your mouth parting softly as IV sung about the girl being on her knees for him despite having a boyfriend who had no idea he was being betrayed. The cheeky git looked you right in the eye as he sung it, too.
You should give him the finger and walk away. Surely, this was taking it too far. People were going to realise, weren't they? Or maybe that was just your guilty conscience perched on your shoulder, haggling with the oily whisper in the corner of your mind that this was actually a bold move on IV's part, sparking to life a tingle of amusement and odd appreciation that he would go to so much effort just to tease you. Dare you admit it, that this was actually a bit titillating? When was the last time someone had tried to get your attention like this? A public declaration of indecent suggestion, but still a secret between the two of you, a link that defied everyone else in the room, except maybe for III.
"…says she's out shopping, but she's under me, and I'm not stopping…"
You folded your arms, your head slowly shaking from side to side as you watched IV singing about fucking another bloke's girl, a huge smile on his face. His body moved, dancing along to the track as he played, the energy transferring to everyone in the room. Clearly, he loved being up there, but what was he trying to say to you? That this is what he wanted? To cheat on Tom with you? Or, was it just a wind up? Either way, he was owning that stage, and apparently you, too, as you stood there and watched him.
Those forbidden images of being lost for 48 hours with him began to intrude into your head again. Rumpled bed sheets, his hair plastered to his head as he lay back in the bath, and you right in there with him…
Stop it. No. This was wrong!
You swallowed hard, a slither of guilt dripping along the back of your neck. Tom would never do anything like this for you. You just knew he wouldn't. He would call this reckless and immature. Inappropriate. He would be right about that last one, though. A glance around the bar revealed that everyone was just enjoying the song, maybe III had caught the hidden meaning, but you didn't see him as a threat. The song was about a girl called Fiona, and her boyfriend, Scotty. There was no indication that it was meant for you. IV had been careful not to mention your name, or point you out, and nobody in this bar knew Tom anyway. Here you were again, conjuring up excuses and justification, your thoughts walking a fine line between being a good girl eager to please, and a wanton, free spirit who wanted to dance right over that line and to hell with what lay ahead. That restlessness that had been stirring awake inside of you began to quicken, pushing your blood faster and hotter through your veins, tempting you with possibilities that made your skin tingle with the sense of just being alive.
Could that really be so terrible? The base urge to just be yourself, to walk a path that felt right. No following rules set by someone else, rejecting rigidity because it was too safe. No more reserving yourself for something that left you feeling unfullfilled and spouting excuses to justify the reason to stay. Isn't that what you had been trying to escape from? The urge for something more…something that breathed life into you, pushed up against the surface of the safety barrier you clicked firmly into place. It was terrifying, but in a way that made your heart pound with the desire to break the seal and take a breath, just to see how sweet the air was out there.
You had nothing to be guilty about. You had done nothing wrong. You had no intentions of doing anything wrong. Could one silly song, sung by the bloke who lived across the hall from you,really push you that far forward? What was IV waking up inside of you?
Appeasing yourself as the song began to come to a close, you uncrossed your arms. This was just IV being a cheeky sod, as usual. You didn't need to read so much into it.
"Scotty doesn't know, Scotty doesn't know…"
The whole room chanted the lyrics back to IV, who was lapping up the participation. You felt yourself begin to relax a bit, feeling the energy in the room.
"Scotty has to… Tommy has to… Tommy has to go…Tommy doesn't know…"
This time your jaw dropped at the name change. There was no denying it now. IV knew exactly what he was doing, his blue eyes meeting your gaze across the room. The cheeky mother fucker.
Tommy has to go.
It hit far too close to home. Your thoughts came crashing down around you, your chest tightening. He'd gone too far. You sucked in a breath and grabbed up the loaded tray of glasses and turned for the bar. You couldn't do this; the tantalising bend in the surface barrier bowed back inwards as you withdrew, the protection still in place as you scurried away.
The song ended to applause and cheers, a particularly loud whistle coming from III, but you made a bee line for the bar, hauling your tray onto the counter and stacking the glasses into the washer with trembling hands. Your thoughts buzzed and spun.
Another failed relationship. That was the flashing beacon that felt like it was bleating a warning into your head. You had been coasting along, convincing yourself that everything would work out fine, because it had to. You had chosen a dependable, sensible man for once. That is what you wanted, right? How dare IV throw a spotlight onto what you had carefully crafted, bringing down your house of cards with his cheeky smile and pretty, blue eyes. How dare he sing to a bar full of people about how he wanted to fuck you behind Tom's back. Your cheeks flooded with heat at the very thought, your teeth biting so hard into your lower lip it stung as you imagined him taking you hard and rough against the wall, driven by pure lust rather than dutiful and respectful touches. Sometimes, a girl needed a bit of rough, and IV presented a tempting prospect for your wicked little day dreams.
This was your fault for encouraging him. He hadn't exactly been holding back with the flirting, and you had let him continue. A piece of you craved that kind of attention, enjoying the spontaneous chatter, and maybe most of all, feeling yourself unfurling deep inside when he looked at you. It made your pulse quicken. It was exciting. It was everything that Tom was not.
Shit.
Putting the last of the glasses into the rack, you closed the washer door and set the cycle to run. The bar manager, Chris, walked past with a crate of bottles to restock the fridge, squeezing past you with an apology. The air felt hot and stifling, the noise inside the bar suddenly overwhelming, and you were all too aware of IV's presence within it.
"I'm going for a quick cigarette break," you said with a shaky breath, catching Chris's attention as he passed you.
Chris did a double take, frowning. "You don't smoke."
"I know, and maybe I'm missing out. I don't get those extra little breaks like the others."
He hefted the crate, giving you a closer look. "Everything alright?"
You nodded, your gaze drifting across the bar. IV was off the stage now, talking to III. He glanced your way and you quickly pulled your attention back to Chris, fearing what might awaken further with any eye contact. Chris was mates with IV and you weren't about to admit to him that you were flustered over a song he had sung. Whilst his concern was sweet, you were not about to unburden the truth to him. "I just need some air. Five minutes?"
Chris nodded. "Five minutes."
With a grateful smile, you made your escape into the yard out the back, taking your phone out of your pocket and taking a seat on the low wall that edged the delivery entrance. The sounds of the city made a hum in the background, a slight breeze teasing at your hair as you took in a few deep breaths. The sun was very low in the sky, casting shadows that stretched across the concrete, the balmy, summer air lingering as the night deepened. Opening your text chats, you typed a quick message to your best friend, Sophie. In times of trouble, she was your crutch with her raw honesty and unfaltering ability to have your back.
You: Is it wrong to be having dirty thoughts about someone when you've got a boyfriend? It is, isn't it?
Of course it was, but you needed Sophie's no bullshit approach to this because you were clearly not managing this very well. You were not the type of girl to cheat on your boyfriend. You had never done such a thing because you knew just how shitty it felt to be on the receiving end. Just the teasing suggestion of being naked in a bath with IV had you flustered with guilt. That damned song had planted more images through the suggestive lyrics, scandalous ways in which you could let him have you. IV was definitely a 'cheeky git' as he had so aptly put it, but a damn pretty one. Downright irresistable, if you wanted to be really honest with yourself, but you had to resist.
Your phone buzzed with a reply.
Sophie: Depends. Is it the cutie who lives across the hall from you?
You huffed and shook your head, bracing your elbows on your knees. How did she just know this stuff?
You: What difference does that make?
Sophie: So it is him lol. Don't worry. I have dirty thoughts about him, too. Are you at work?
You: What do you mean you have dirty thoughts about him, too?? Yes, I'm at work. And he is here. I stupidly asked him to walk me home because Tom is away, and I can't keep paying out for Ubers.
Sophie: What? He's cute! Don't judge me! Or are you jealous? Maybe you will get a goodnight smooch on the doorstep. I want details if you do ;)
As if you needed any more inspirational images, she throws that one into the mix. And as for being jealous, you were no such thing. You just hadn't expected her to come out with that. You groaned softly and rubbed your forehead. IV had a lot to answer for and maybe asking him to walk you home really hadn't been a smart move. It made you tremble a bit to think about being alone with him, in the dark…
You: We are just friends, Soph. Nothing like that is going to happen, no matter how much of a flirt he is. Cheating ain't my style. You know that. Plus, Tom is a good guy.
Sophie: Good guy? Perhaps. I think we both know he is a place holder until you're ready to delve into the good stuff. You're not having dirty thoughts about your cute neighbour for no reason, babe. You wouldn't be texting me if you weren't already questioning it.
And there was the no bull shit honesty that you had been waiting for. You almost squirmed as you considered the annoying confirmation that her words gave you. Another relationship of yours was about to crash out on the rocks.
Tom had said he didn't trust IV. Had he picked up on something? It made you cringe to consider it. This had not been the plan. You shouldn't be eyeing up your neighbour. You had someone already. But, maybe, this wasn't really about IV, and more about what he represented. That was a comforting thought, despite the thump of anticipation chasing every heartbeat.
With a sigh, you stood up and tucked your phone back into your pocket. You needed to get back to work. As you pushed open the door, you caught yourself humming the song that IV had sung, grimacing at the stupid catchy tune and cutting yourself off. How quickly it had got stuck in your head, much like the man himself.
Tom didn't know, but you could feel yourself slipping away from him. How could you stay when your mind kept drifting somewhere else? Or, you could stay away from IV and make it work, but that felt like a false positive. You couldn't see an end goal anymore, at least not one that made you want to chase it.
Tom didn't know.
That bloody song, and as for the man that had so blatantly sung it to you - he had blown a massive hole into your little world, and you had no idea what was going to happen next.
IV
He held up the shot of tequila and focused on III, who held his own shot with a bemused smile. IV had forced him to take this one, not letting him back out from this blazing trail of destruction any longer. He didn't really want to get smashed on his own. He would if he had to, but it was so much more fun with company. "On three," he said, then giggled. "On three, III. Get it?"
"Oh, I get it, mate," III said, shaking his head. "You are fucked. Maybe make this the last one, yeah?"
"Spoilsport," he frowned, then threw the shot down his throat. He coughed at the burn, his eyes watering, his veins flooded with a tingle that felt like he might be floating. He even glanced down at his feet just to make sure he wasn't.
He jolted as III grabbed his elbow, his gaze blinking blearily up at his tall friend. "Wha…?"
III sighed through his nose. "You are swaying like an old sea dog," he said, rolling his eyes. "Maybe we should get you home."
"Can't," IV said, shaking his head. He patted III on the arm in thanks, stroking the sleeve of his T-shirt affectionately. "Gotta walk my girl home. If she will speak to me."
"Your girl?" III frowned.
IV turned to look towards the bar, squinting slightly at the way the lights seemed to bleed into flares, his mouth turning down sadly. "She won't even look at me. Think I fucked up," he said, slurring slightly. He looked up at III, eyes big and worried. "Did I fuck up?"
"Bloody hell, mate," III said, guiding them towards a quieter area near the side of the stage. The open mic session had ended, music playing through the sound system to end the night. He eased IV down to sit on the wooden edge of the stage. "You ain't walking anyone home in this state."
"I promised her, though," IV insisted. He rubbed his hands over his face, his head so thick it felt like he was wading through treacle to figure out what he was meant to be doing next. All he knew, is that he had to walk her home. Mr Tommy Smart Suits kept disappearing on her, and that meant he needed to step up. He wasn't entirely sure why, though. He just knew he wanted to. He frowned, not really sure where this circular trail of thought was meant to be going and grabbed III's arm, his face all earnest. "She don't like football. I don't know why she is bothering to be honest. She should tell him to fuck off."
III pushed back his already ruffled hair in despair. "Obsessed before you've even had a taste. You are so fucked, my man. Fucked," he muttered. IV leant sideways and III grabbed his shoulders to straighten him. "Stay here, and don't move. I'm going to get you a coffee or something, get you sobered up a bit."
"Coffee?" IV scoffed, pushing III off. "Another shot. Actually, just get the whole bottle."
He watched as III set off, melting into the remaining crowd as he made his way towards the bar. IV could just see his head towering over everyone else, watching curiously as III caught her attention and she leaned in to hear what he had to say. At least she was still talking to III. She had avoided IV when he went to the bar. It had sent his thoughts into a tailspin, niggling doubt crowding in and robbing the cheeky bravery that had been heating his blood all night. Now, he felt a bit numb and empty.
He had pushed it too far. Now, she couldn't even look at him. She didn't want him, just as he'd suspected. He'd made a fool of himself. Tequila seemed like the best way to wipe the chattering demons in his head. He had been trying to punch above his weight. She was far too pretty to be interested in him. Of course she wouldn't want him over Tommy Smart Suits. Tom had a stable, sensible job. He went to the gym. He had a nice car. He could look after her. IV tried to think of ways he could compare to all of that, his face screwing up in concentration, but all he could think about was throwing her on his bed and just showing her all the ways he would appreciate her.
Sex. He was letting his dick rule his head.
His thoughts wandered, a rambling cacophony of music and musings, a vague sense of needing to remember something important making him get to his feet. He staggered slightly as he shuffled towards the steps that led up to the stage, the platform upon which he had stood and revealed his desire to fuck another man's girl. He really was a bad boy. A chuckle slipped from his lips, his body swaying as his feet hit the smooth, dark wood of the stage. He belonged on a stage. He was a lucky son of a bitch to earn a living from it.
The room tilted slightly and he reached out, fingers grappling for stability and finding soft fabric. He gripped at it, lurching forward, the taut fabric holding him upright for a confusing few seconds before the sensation of spiralling through air wrapped around him. It didn't even hurt as his body collided with something hard, the air whooshing out of his lungs as the impact made his head snap back. He grunted as he heard - felt - the thump against his head, the world going dizzying black for a few seconds before he blinked away the daze. The room looked odd, like it was upside down, his body cocooned in something restrictive. It called to mind a random conversation with Vessel about spiders; how they would entrap their prey and toy with them until ready to slake their blood lust. He felt like he had been ensnared. By pretty eyes and an addictive smile, a smile he wanted to see everyday.
III was right. He was so fucked.
Groaning, he gave into the strange restraints, his body relaxing as a welcoming dark descended, wiping out all the busy thoughts and demons. Behind his lids, he chased her soft smile, hungering for a taste of those pretty lips, his own mouth curving up into a little smile at the thought as he drifted in his strange cocoon.