I recommend listening to "I Won't Let You Go (Darling)"by Hedley while reading this. Was the inspiration for this piece.
She couldn't see much of the countryside they were apparently whizzing by. It may have something to do with the fact it was pitch black outside. Or possibly because her reflection was hogging her line of sight, no matter how far she pressed her nose against the cold window pane. Sighing heavily, she lifted a finger, absently drawing in the gathering condensation. A frown, to match her own. Her hand hovered over it for a while after before she sighed again, watching as it fogged over, obscuring everything for a while. Resting against the glass, she closed her eyes tiredly, listening as the bus rattled onwards. This whole trip was an obscured dream really. Everything they had ever worked towards, it always seemed to be slashed right down the middle when they were nearing that final step towards achievement. It didn't seem fair.
Resting her head against the thin window sill, she shuffled a bit, pulling one foot up on to the crammed seat with the rest of her, trying to ignore the cramp in her butt. A muffled groan came from beside her, causing her to freeze momentarily, waiting for another sound. But the sleeping boy continued to rest. Eyes fluttering closed in relief, Ally resumed her search for a comfortable position, before observing her dreaming counterpart.
He'd always been that way. Dreaming too big a dream, wishing too many penny stealing wishes, only for everything to be thrown back in his face. And effectively hers when she thinks about it. She'll admit, she took part in a fair amount of those ideals. They'd once been so happy, so carefree, feeding off that silver platter the world had seemingly handed him. Now…
He sighed in his sleep, shifting towards her slightly, his tall frame trapped in their tiny traveling quarters. Frowning, she pressed herself further into the wall, ignoring the jabbing in her back just so he could have some more room to stretch out. His legs were extended as far as they could go under the seat in front of him, his arms folded uncomfortably across his arms and lap, neck at an awkward angle towards her. He wasn't made for public transport, interstate buses included. He was made for tour buses and comfortable private jets. Not this, confinement.
Reaching out to smooth his fringe off his forehead, she bit back a sad smile, loving how he mewled lightly under his breath. He was innocence in the way she wasn't, aspiring for things he had been told he couldn't have. The odds don't stack, they had been told too many times to count, try your luck somewhere else. But elsewhere seemed to have the same answer on hand.
It was amazing really, that less than eight years ago, she had stumbled across this blundering boy, bashing away at her father's drum kit with a pair of corndogs. That same boy had made the decision that she wasn't going to let him go from her life, and honestly, it was a decision she thanked him for each day. He needed some company on this long road he was traveling, and she was more than willing to give it.
A bump in the road caused the bus to clatter loudly, making a few of the sleeping patrons to wake, moaning in annoyance. He was one of them, blinking blearily at the water stained ceiling for a bit before his gaze travelled towards her. She smiled, watching as he returned it, if a bit delayed, before rearranging herself so she was sitting beside him properly again. Glad there were no armrests between them, she patted her lap invitingly, knowing he needed no encouragement. Sure enough, he shifted until his head was lying across her thighs, knees curled up towards his chest, feet sticking out into the aisle, but they didn't care. She began to comb through his long hair with a gentle hand, watching as he drifted back into much needed sleep, but not before he murmured, "Don't let go."
"I won't." she whispered back, knowing that she never could. He nuzzled against her happily, stubble catching slightly against her worn jeans, and was soon lost to the world once again. Still combing, she slumped sadly, wondering why it had to be this way. She wished they could go back those years spent in the practice room, where their only worry had been whether or not they'd have song completed in time to upload on his website. When did this real life come crashing in? When did it suddenly become about making it big on their own in this huge, huge world? When had they been reduced to a pair of nomad musicians, with only the mere scraps of busking money to their name? Everything they had worked for in high school, crumbled beneath their weather worn feet, with no hope of making a new foundation.
"Long steady road, oh travel, be kind." She sung quietly, blocking out the cries of the small children and rattling of the dark old bus they were in, focusing only on his sleeping breaths. Their parents had always warned them that there was a bazillion to one chance of them making it in the music world. But they had always thought they were the exception. For a long, long time they had believed this. Even when all the success he had amounted during their early years began to fizzle away, even as decisions such as college, careers and lifelong companions reared their ugly heads, they still believed it. The first warning should have been when his contract with Starr records had drawn to a close, and he didn't have his original team to back him up when deciding on whether or not to extend it. Trish had been offered a full scholarship to the college of her dreams, and one of Dez's heartfelt films had finally been noticed through Sundance, leading them both from Miami. Only she had stuck around, despite the eager prospectors from a range of different colleges and business hailing for her attention. She'd seen how torn he was and she wasn't about to let go of him so soon. After that, it was all against them until eventually, they realised there was nothing left for them in their home state, so they struck out towards the west, ignoring the disappointed protests from their parents and friends.
State to state they had travelled, looking for their lead. They had seen and learnt about the world in ways they wish they hadn't. He had downright refused to try hitchhiking, and while she understood his reasons of possible rape, torture and murder, she had countered it was one way to establish a (positive) connection to potential fans. They had argued for weeks on the topic, and she had finally relented to his please, but it remained a sore spot in their relationship. But there was some nice memories amongst it all. Playing music in new towns, meeting new people, the new sights, taste and sounds. Yeah, they'd seen and done a lot, but her favourite days would have to be when it was just them and a quiet country lane, their hands interlocked, pinkies entwined. He'd glance back over his shoulder at her and smile, and she'd just feel at utter peace.
Still singing softly, she looked out at the scenery again, barely noticing as Austin threaded their pinkies together in his sleep. She must have been lost in thought for some time, because she became aware of the first light of day stinging at her eyes as Austin hummed against her stomach. Giggling lightly, she blinked down at him, catching his attention. A broad, but admittedly blurry smile graced his tanned face as he turned to face her.
"Hey."
"Hey."
He reached up to run a hand through the ends of her matted hair, smile fading slightly at the touch, and she just knew he was thinking about the past few years.
"Ally,"
"Mmm?"
"I'm sorry."
It wasn't anything knew. He was always apologising, always taking the blame for her decision. She'd wake up in the middle of the night to him sobbing, whispering apology after apology in her ear. He'd apologise every time they had to dumpster dive for a meal or new piece of clothing, for every time they had to find an uncomfortable stoop to curl up for the night, for every time they had to walk along the blistering hot highways with nothing to their names but his guitar and her song book. And every time, she'd turn in his hold and cradle him to her chest, whispering or singing soothing words or comfort. Smiling tiredly at him now, she just lifted his palm to her cheek, leaning into it softly.
"Darling, don't be."
"But you could have done so much."
"And I haven't already?"
They'd had this conversation a thousand and ten times already. And no matter how much he tried to express his unnecessary guilt for stealing her from the world, she'd remind him that she just couldn't let him go. Not then, not now, not ever. She'd told him exactly that one night, as he tried to find some shelter on the side of a busy highway. He had comically stopped in mid step, before slowly turning back towards her, guitar case banging against his shins. They were a right mess. On the road for barely five months, clothes dirty and scraped, hair plastered to their scalps, the twisted material they called 'shoes' hardly clinging to their feet. And she realised she didn't regret a thing. Not the fact that their families and friends had no clue where in the world they were, or that she hadn't eaten a proper meal in weeks. Not that they could be killed or kidnapped, or that they'd never be successful again. Nothing.
"You're thinking too loudly again." He chuckled, pushing himself up on his elbows, so that their faces were aligned. Lip quirking, she leaned forward to bump their foreheads together, eyes fluttering closed tiredly.
"Sorry. Just lost in memories." She whispered, letting him circle his arms around her, lifting her small frame into his lap like usual. She sighed in contentment, she snuggled closer, feeling the need to sleep wash over her. He noticed and shuffled a bit so that he could sit properly against the window, feet propped up in the spare seat.
"Sleep. I'll wake you when we reach…where are we going again?"
She shrugged. He huffed in amusement before resting his chin against her head, humming the same incomplete song she had been singing earlier.
"No I just can't, no I never will, never ever would, no I never could let you go."
"Austin?"
"Yeah?"
"Don't look down?"
He chuckled and kissed her hair line. "Don't look back."