A/N: I tend to be pretty impatient. That's why I'm partial to writing 1 and 2 chapter stories, because then I can dive headfirst into the drama. But this story, while still pretty short, will be the longest one I've ever uploaded and it's certainly challenging me as a writer. With more ground to cover I've had to do more research and flesh things out much more than I'm used to. Sometimes it's a huge headache because I really just want to get to the good shit, you know the kissing and the screaming and the passion and the pain. But I felt it'd be a little irresponsible of me to write a multi-chapter fic this way. Anyway, this story is based on the first verse and chorus of the song "From Eden" by one of my favorite artists: Hozier. Each chapter will be accompanied by a line from the song and reflect my interpretation of it. You don't have to know the song to understand the story but I still recommend listening to it just because it's an incredible song (all of his songs are really) and he's an extremely talented and creative lyricist with an interesting perspective. That being said, happy reading!

"Babe, there's something tragic about you, something so magic about you. Don't you agree?"

Austin's stomach lurched every time a mile marker whizzed by. Desperately in need of fresh air, he quickly rolled his window down and silently thanked his lucky stars that his exit was fast-approaching. Too much more of this and he'd be pulling Roxanne over on the highway shoulder and puking his breakfast up in the weeds. Maybe that wouldn't be so bad. That omelet, or whatever the hell Ansley cooked, was sitting like a brick in his gut. As if on cue, Austin belched so violently that his classic black Ray-bans went off-kilter.

"Fucking hell." He mumbled, straightening the shades.

Ansley was good at one thing and cooking was definitely not it. Austin should've kicked her out of his hotel room last night the minute he vacated that sweet warmth between her legs. But no, instead he fell for all of her 'my roommate and I are fighting can I just stay here the night?' bullshit. And how could he say no with her naked and curled around him and offering to make breakfast the next morning? So he reluctantly relented then listened to her snore like a goddamn lawnmower before finally passing out around 3am. And when he awoke 6 hours later, it was to the smell of burnt pancakes.

When Austin left his apartment in Virginia Beach, drove the 7 and a half hours to Savannah, Georgia, and found a decent hotel, he wasn't planning on going to a bar, let alone picking up a strawberry blonde, heavily tattooed whiskey vixen who didn't know her way around a stove. But he ended up doing both and ultimately paying for it. Now at 6pm he was driving those final minutes into Miami, and running on nothing but an almost-omelet, a huge cup of black coffee, and 2 thin lines of cocaine. Ansley hadn't said a word as he created white stripes on the hotel writing desk with his debit card, but just sat watching in her bra and jeans.

Another exit sign passed by overhead and his belly did a somersault. Not only was the shitty egg dish bubbling uncomfortably within his gut, but being so close to 'home' always made him feel sick. Good thing his dad was dead; one less pain in the ass to deal with. He glanced in the rearview at his black suit as it hung in a garment bag by the window. A few shovel-fuls of dirt tomorrow and the old man would be where he belonged, below ground.

Another exit and another sickening gastric twist. God he should've flown. But he waited til the very last minute to decide on attending dear old dad's funeral and by then even super cheap Spirit Airlines wanted 500 bucks not including a carry-on or a checked bag. Fuuuuck that. Plus, Austin hadn't flown since 1998 when he was 6 and, obviously, TSA was taking far less shit nowadays. If they objected to bottled water he seriously doubted they'd be more receptive to cocaine and weed. One of his bandmates did say that airline personnel don't give a shit about what's in your checked bag and suggested he could tuck his contraband in there, but Austin was not at all willing to take the chance. And there was no way he'd be spending more than 2 hours in Miami with his mom without an adequate drug supply.

He let down the passenger side window too and the scent of salt water was unmistakable. He loved it. And he hated that he loved it. What was he even doing there? Austin and his father had a mutual hatred for one another ever since 2003 when that piece of shit decided to start speaking with his fists instead of his words. He was glad his dad was dead. Hell, when his mom called with the news last week, Austin had celebrated with a bottle of gin and a night on the town. But before he could rush over to the liquor cabinet, his mother begged tearfully for him to attend the funeral. And goddamnit if he didn't have a rotten, stinking, sore spot for females in need. He released another sulfuric burp as evidence.

When his cell phone suddenly rang, Austin checked the screen before quickly unplugging it from the auxiliary cord.

"Dez what's up?"

"Hey man where are you?"

"Umm like 20 minutes outside of Miami."

"Oh ok. Nervous?"

Austin scoffed, "Hell no."

"Ouch shit!"

"What?"

"Gavin's devil cat just ambushed my foot again."

"I swear to God that cat has it out for you man." The blonde laughed, "Maybe he thinks you're a giant ginger mouse."

"Maybe I should make some cat casserole."

Austin cracked up, "Why didn't Gav just leave him back in Virginia?"

"Because 'Turkey can't be home alone for a week are you insane?!'" Dez replied, mocking their roommate.

"Oh my God." Austin rolled his eyes.

"I'm like a goddamn human scratching post but as long as it pleases the great Turkey then who cares right?"

"Hey so how'd rehearsal go today?"

"It was fine. We didn't kill it but it was still pretty decent. I mean it would've been way better with you there. Tucker's good on guitar but his vocals are weak. Me, Gavin, and Jace can kinda harmonize enough to get by but we're hurting without you man."

"I knooow I know just let me get through this funeral tomorrow and I'll hit the road as soon as he's 6 feet under."

"Are you gonna be here in time for our show tomorrow night?"

"I should b- Hey asshole it's called a fucking blinker! Jesus Christ! Uh yeah I should be. Funeral's at 8am, I doubt there'll be many people there to pay their respects. Should be worm chow before 10 and it takes me like 9 hours to get there. What time do you guys go on?"

"Well the night show is at 10."

"Oh awesome yeah I should be there in time."

"Are you gonna be able to make that drive if you're waking up at the ass crack of dawn?"

"Yeah I'll be riding the white horse the whole way." He ran his tongue over his gums, catching bitter traces of the coke he'd dusted there earlier.

"Ok cool. We might actually have the chance to wow some of the suits out here this week afterall."

"I hope so man. But my exit's coming up I'll call you later okay."

"Alright dude. Later."

"Bye."

Austin hung up and plugged the aux cord back into his phone. He immediately opened iTunes and selected something loud and angry. He felt like he was letting the guys down, especially now when Flesh & Bone was potentially on the cusp of fame. Over the past 3 years he and his friends/roommates/bandmates enjoyed great local success in Virginia Beach. And it was because of their moderate celebrity that they'd been invited to "One Hundred Amps", a week long rock and roll music festival in Atlanta. They'd be performing 1-2 shows every day and, hopefully, catching the eye of someone important and business-y.

Of course his bastard of a father decided to have an aneurysm 5 days before One Hundred Amps started. And of fucking course his mother decided to bury said bastard the day the most important festival of his life started. Austin was driving deeper into Miami while Jace's 17 year old cousin Tucker acted as his temporary, and apparently somewhat shitty, replacement.

He took the next exit, now only 15 minutes from his childhood home and his stomach quivered in response. Austin pulled up to a red light and looked around as Roxanne, his black 2006 Honda Civic, idled. Miami was just like he left it the first time 7 years ago and then again 4 years ago. He already knew that when he departed for Georgia tomorrow morning, the city in his rearview would always remain the same. Florida sunshine was infamous and, with Miami at the near tip of the peninsula, the light and heat were merciless even in late-March. Girls walking along the sidewalks or in and out of clothing stores did so in flip flops and shorts and skin-tight things. His eyebrows rose well above the sunglasses. Florida beach babes were certainly a nice contrast to the hipster chicks VA Beach seemed to be crawling with. Austin watched a particularly curvaceous Latina in a cheetah print sundress stroll past with her almost equally hourglass-shaped friend. He puckered up, a wolf whistle on the tip of his tongue, but was interrupted by an impatient car horn. The light was green.

"Alright alright calm your tits man." He grumbled, pulling off.

The city seemed to hum with potential activity, as if the chaos of Miami nightlife was always running just beneath the surface. It was an electric current, a throbbing pulse, waiting to be tapped by the masses, even at 6pm on a Thursday. This was all to his right, the restaurants, bars, and shops rushing by in a blur just waiting to come alive. On the other hand, to his left, there was the beach.

Austin never went to college, but he'd lived in Miami long enough to recognize Spring Breakers when he saw them. It being nearly April meant that most of the celebrating students had already come and gone but there were still plenty of schools left that had only just set their attendees free. The beach wasn't waiting to burst with activity, it had already exploded much earlier in the day and was now choked to death with people. It was a mass of beer cans and exposed skin that littered the sand and spilled over into the waves. A stage, big and temporary and covered in FM-109 logos, rose up from the crowd. On it some nobody of a rapper paced back and forth, shouting an ass-shaking combination of rhymes and profanity. The absolute pandemonium immediately took Austin's mind back to the music festival he was currently missing out on. He pushed Roxanne even further above the speed limit.

His cell rang again as he turned onto a residential street. He checked the screen and, with a powerful eye roll, pressed ignore. 20 seconds later and he was pulling into the driveway of his childhood home, his belly all knotted to hell. Unlike the city itself, this particular house had changed since he ran away at 16 and then again when he went storming out at 19, wondering why he'd ever thought visiting was a good idea. Now here Austin was once more, 23 years old, staring at the most recent cosmetic changes to his parents' house. When he still lived there it was just a quaint little single story, 2 bedroom, 1.5 bathroom, with a lawn that was perpetually more weeds than grass. Up until he turned 16 and hit the road, their place was all chipped paint, creaking floorboards, and the occasional cockroach. When he returned the first time after staying away for 3 years, the exterior had gone from dingy white to a fresh coat of eggshell brown and inside all the chipping layers had been repainted. Now, 4 years after that disaster of a visit, the lawn was lush and manicured with a few flowers planted near the front door, which was an inviting red rather than the forest green he was used to. Through the windows Austin could see new curtains, white with some kind of design on them. The house was cute and that's something it had never been before. It was gradually becoming something his mom would adore but that did little to ease the sour taste in his mouth. Either his mother was becoming more assertive with the finances, or his father had grown more abusive over the years and each little fix was his way of saying sorry.

Roxy continued to purr around Austin, ready to make a break for it if he was.

His cell rang again and he pressed ignore before turning the car off. With a deep breath and another sickening burp, he unplugged his phone and vacated the Honda. It was really now or never. Still, he hesitated before slamming the driver's side door shut. Austin knew his mother was in there, grieving and cooking something and probably already thinking about calling him a 3rd time.

"Jesus." He groaned openly to the afternoon sky, suddenly not up for this encounter at all. His hands moved without him telling them too, opening Roxanne's back door and reaching for his grey duffle bag. He really only needed like 2 small bumps of the white stuff, just enough to endure a conversation with his passive mom about his asshole dad. He leaned into the backseat, digging through a couple pairs of socks and underwear. Austin's last hit had been more than 7 hours ago and minimal at best, so when he quickly snorted a tiny mound of cocaine off of the back of his hand, then another, it hit him like a breath of fresh air, like ice and fire both exploding in his sinuses. There were fireworks behind his eyes as they shut tight and lightning bolts piercing his brain. Air and electricity and flames and color consuming him in a fleeting but potent moment. He sniffled repeatedly and wiped at his nostrils. A sigh escaped him as this wave of peace quieted his nerves and relaxed his mind. Unfortunately though, his stomach continued to bubble uncomfortably. Damn Ansley.

Austin immediately straightened up at the sound of an approaching car and quickly dropped the little plastic baggy back in his duffle. He looked out toward the street, fingers still swiping self-consciously at his nose. There was a red Volkswagen bug cruising down the residential road, coming toward him with a perfect view of his very illegal indiscretions. And for a moment he felt panic creeping into his chest. But the driver didn't seem to be paying him the slightest bit of attention. She stared straight ahead, hands on 10 and 2 like a good little driver. But just as Austin released the breath he hadn't even realized he was holding, Miss VW Beetle slowed to pass over a speed bump and one of those perfectly positioned hands moved to her face. He lifted the Ray-bans to the top of his blond head, staring more intently. She was crying- no…sobbing, as her tiny car moved in slow motion. Then the girl was over the speed bump and continuing past him. He watched her come to a 4-way intersection and stop. Hers was the only car there and Austin waited expectantly for her to keep going. But she didn't. Any other driver would've basically breezed straight through the intersection on seeing it so empty. But she didn't.

Austin looked away but he couldn't bring himself to enter his childhood home just yet. Instead, he replied to a few texts on his phone, including one that begged 'Don't forget me when you get rich and famous Austy ;) '. The number was unsaved but there was only one girl who called him by the worst nickname he'd ever heard. Scoffing, he sent a noncommittal 'sure' and nothing more because that fucking chick couldn't even make pancakes for Christ's sake. Next he checked his email and sent some replies. After that he deliberately spent at least 10 minutes on his various social media profiles, doling out likes and dropping comments. Then, with a silent prayer, he looked back up hoping she was gone.

She wasn't.

The little VW bug still sat there at the stop sign, its brake lights glowing bright red. Austin mumbled a curse word under his breath because now he was hopelessly intrigued and that stupid soft spot he had for damsels in distress was aching.

Maybe it was that tender side of himself that forced Austin down the driveway and out into the street. Or maybe it was the cocaine quickly transitioning from airway to bloodstream that brought his body closer to that overly girly vehicle. Perhaps it was the brake lights drawing him in like a drugged up moth to a flame. Whatever. Regardless of the 'why', it was a stupid and strange idea. But that didn't stop him.

"What am I doing? What am I doing?" he whispered to himself with his hands in the pockets of his denim jacket and his black Vans striding forward with purpose. He approached the driver's side window slowly, sure she'd see him out of the corner of her eye and speed off.

But she didn't.

She stared straight ahead, hands at 10 and 2, like a good little driver.

Austin slowed even further. Praying and waiting for her to finally notice him and step on the gas and save them both from this awkward encounter. But she didn't. Even when he stood mere inches from her window and bent at the waist to peer inside, she stared straight ahead, like a good little driver.

He took a moment to observe her. The girl's profile was striking but even more arresting was the state she was in. The tears had stopped. Well actually no they hadn't because there was another one rolling down her cheek. But she wasn't sobbing anymore. She was just sitting there with eyes glassy and unmoving. Austin wondered what could've possibly turned a girl that was bubbly enough to drive a rosy red VW Bug into this broken statue with a tightly furrowed brow and hands that white-knuckled the steering wheel.

Fuck it, I'm already here.

Austin rapped on the glass gently with his knuckle. She didn't jump like he expected. In fact, he had to knock once more before getting any kind of reaction. And even then, it was out of the ordinary.

She moved in painfully slow motion. Her head turned to him gradually, as if the tapping was a faint sound deep in her own subconscious or a tiny flint spark in the darkness. Something heavy and hypnotizing surrounded them in that moment and Austin immediately recognized that it was her, not the brake lights or even the drugs, pulling him in without even trying. He grew breathless as she revealed herself. She was a dark haired beauty and the word 'classic' immediately came to mind. Even the look on her face harkened back to old Hollywood, like a glamorous starlet who'd just been told the love of her life was being sent to war and now her dark eyebrows knitted upwards in worry and her lips curved in this gentle convex of devastation. And her eyes, brown and wide and heavily bagged, stared completely through him as if something horrifying peeked over the horizon and if she looked away it'd devour her whole. Austin managed to claw his way out of the girl's haunting gaze long enough to see that her grip on the wheel had tightened and her outstretched arms quivered.

"Hey." He blurted out with another knock on the window, her lost expression unnerving the shit out of him.

This time, thank God, she did jump. She came rapidly back to herself with a jolt and blinked repeatedly, her eyes registering the world around her for the first time in at least 12 minutes. Austin watched her quickly wipe the tears from her face.

"You alright?" he asked.

She tried to smile but it barely reached her lips let alone her eyes. It became obvious that she was completely frazzled from being discovered in such a vulnerable state. When she spoke her voice wavered.

"Uh yes yeah I'm fine um I'm so sorry am I in your way? I'm in your way aren't I?"

Of course she thought he was some disgruntled driver demanding to know why she'd kept him waiting at this empty 4-way stop for so long. That would make sense. Him being a total creeper motivated by nothing but curiosity and cocaine? That made NO sense. So he faltered.

"Uh well I-"

"Oh my God I'm so sorry I-I must be holding you up I'm going to go now okay sorry again! Sorry!"

Austin blinked and she was gone, her little red punch buggy cruising into the intersection and turning right. He watched it drive further into the neighborhood before losing visibility behind shrubs and trees. Then, with her beautifully sad features still fresh in his mind, Austin doubled over and vomited in the street.

Fucking Ansley.

I know it's only the first chapter but I'd love love love some feedback and any kind of constructive criticism you can give me. Thanks!