~*~we all come here with a light in our eyes~*~

(some will burn out, some will burn bright)

~*~chapter one: (right before your eyes, i'm aching, no past) nowhere to hide, just you and me~*~

this is the last time you tell me i've got it wrong

this is the last time i say it's been you all along

this is the last time i let you in my door

this is the last time, i won't hurt you anymore

"the last time" - by taylor swift featuring gary lightbody of snow patrol -

Avery can count the times his phone has buzzed during Scarlett's set without Deacon's terse, "You gon' answer that?" in his ear.

From the older man's tone of voice, the younger knows he's glowering at him. Jaw clenched and ticking while his teeth subtly grind. Clearly performing with him at the Blue Bird earned him as many points as using the last of his milk for cereal did.

He pushes his fingers through his hair before reaching into the pocket of his jeans and hitting ignore.

The accomplished guitar player lets out a huff of laughter. "Juliette Barnes don't take kind to being ignored." There's knowing in his tone and something that isn't supposed to, flares inside of Avery.

He doesn't say anything, but the tensing of his back is enough for Deacon. "I still got one good hand."

Avery blanches like he did the morning Deacon found him in his kitchen. "I don't know what you got goin' on with Juliette," They're almost nose to nose. "But I know one thing; she's damn hard to say no to when she's got you in her sights. And if she's got her eye on you, you know what you've gotta do. Cause Scarlett ain't comin' to me in tears over you again."

"Sir, yes, sir." Avery drawls, giving a lazy salute.

"I only got two important people in my life; Maddie and Scarlett, and I'll do whatever I have to, to make sure nothin' ever hurts them. She followed you all the way out to Nashville with nothin' but the clothes on her back and her book of poems, and you kicked her to the curb for your sugar mama as thanks. She – for reasons only she understands, cause I sure as hell don't – took you back, let you into her heart again and she deserves more than just being another pit stop for you."

"You don't know what you're talkin' about."

"The hell I don't. You listen to any damn song I've ever written, and then tell me I don't know what I'm talkin' about, boy."

Avery watches as Deacon stalks off, leaving him backstage as Scarlett's twangy tone rings out all around him. The magenta pink lights, that match the streaks in her hair, swirl as she bounds across the stage, almost as if she's a shooting star. Her platinum hair shines bright, her soft sea green eyes are more vibrant and she's singing like she's never sung before, giant smile curled at her pale pink lips that are smothered with deep plumb gloss.

Vaguely he hears Deacon's low rumble exchanging barbs with Luke Wheeler's heavy country tone, and he swallows.

Everyone knows Luke Wheeler – Country's Sexiest Man – is knocking boots with its reigning queen, Rayna Jaymes. That the duet, "Ball and Chain," they performed in Tampa was only the beginning. And again that something he isn't supposed to feel, as he thinks of Juliette and Charlie Wentworth, flares.

In the back of his mind he can hear Scarlett's subtly sweet country tone, "I can't take you with me, but hearin' you before I go on's the next best thing."

Then he shut off his phone and turned back to Juliette. Something he seemed to be doing more and more of lately.

_

Twisting her platinum hair into a messy braid, Scarlett lets out a heavy sigh, as she prepares to leave her dressing room. She can hear Gunnar picking across the hall in Luke Wheeler's. She knows its him and not Avery sitting outside her door, waiting for her to wash out the fake magenta streaks and the heavy makeup she wears to perform every night.

There's a distinct sound when Gunnar's long, dexterous fingers pluck at the six strings of his acoustic guitar. It's a sound that takes her back to when he found her book of poems and started picking out a rhythm and humming lowly in his throat, just the two of them in the Blue Bird.

A song's just a poem set to music.

What breaks through the memory is the familiar staccato pitch of Zoey's laughter that suddenly joins the fray of the picking.

She can't help but cringe; the picture she can see clearly in her mind is stomach turning. Zoey's flawless mocha skin a perfect match for Gunnar's well-worn sun kissed complexion. His puppy eyes dancing with a spark as they meet her honeyed hazel. His thin lips sweeping her full into an easy kiss, his guitar long forgotten as she takes its place in his lap.

Chills break out along her spine. _

It's everything – the way she and Avery are kissing right now – that Scarlett's romanticized notions of love and what it is to be love, could never imagine being possible. There's passion and hands are roaming hotly and tongues are tangling and teeth gnash, moans are wrenched from throats and hearts are beating so fast, the sound seems to reverberate off the walls of the hotel room, but it's hollow.

Oh, so painfully and obviously hollow.

When their eyes met – her singing in the famed cafe`, him looking through the window – a romance was rekindled. Feelings they thought had fallen to the wayside, came rushing back as soft sea green eyes held onto stormy greyish blue.

Then there was the subtle quirk of his lips and the demure tilt of hers, and a tiny spark struck the flame anew.

But this – what was happening right now – wasn't close to what happened between them months ago.

They wouldn't [couldn't] say it out loud, but they were using each other. With every slide of his lips down the slope of her neck, he saw deeply bronzed skin. With each breathless keen, she could only see puppy brown eyes drunk with passion.

Every clench of her velvet walls around his length made him imagine Juliette.

Every crash of his hips against hers made her swallow down Gunnar.

And when it was over and sweat was cooling on their skin, they knew they were over. That the last note had been sung, the last pluck of the guitar fading away, and the lights finally dimming for good.

"I never deserved you." His voice is broken as he strokes her slightly frizzy platinum hair, no longer styled perfectly and damp with sweat. "How did I fool you into thinkin' I was ever good enough for you, Scar?"

"You never fooled me." She murmurs, being drawn into the heat of his body. "You can't fool some one who doesn't believe they're being fooled."

"You should be with someone who can give you their whole heart and then some."

"You should too. I don't deserve any better love than you do."