A/N: Hey, y'all! Lily here. So, I'm doing a trial run for an idea I have currently in the works. Many other people have done stories and stuff like this and I wanted to try my hand at it. As of right now, this is going to be an ongoing series/collection called "The Playlist." This will be a side series and I'll only be updating it occasionally, depending on how often creativity strikes. Basically, they're going to be standalone musical short stories. Each of these stories will be extremely short compared to my others. I'm striving to make them all one-shots, but I may do different parts of a song for different chapters, leading to about 3-4 chapters max.
I'm hoping to create multiple universes in this series. Each installment in a universe would be its own story and whether or not it's a continuation of an existing universe would be in the description. Also, each installment will be a different song, but connected installments will be a part of the universe that shares a name with the first song (so stories that follow this storyline will be parts 2, 3, 4, etc. of "Lose Each Other"). I hope that makes sense!
Feel free to incorporate the song into the chapter as you see fit. If you're like me, you could play the song in the background continuously as you read. You could also play the sections, pause, read, and repeat. But it's completely up to y'all! Whatever helps you get the most out of it. You don't even technically have to play the song (but also… it's such a great song, so why wouldn't you want to?).
Lastly, I kind of cranked this out pretty fast as a dry run, so there may be some (even more) typos in here. Fair warning and thanks for overlooking them if I've never said that before!
Okay, enough from me. Please give this a read and let me know what you think about this work and my idea for the series!
Mercedes stepped onto the stage, smiling as the crowd immediately cheered for her. "Hi everyone," she said. "So, I know I usually come in here every week to sing a karaoke song for you guys, but I wanted to switch it up today if you don't mind."
The crowd cheered in response.
"Great. So, I went through a pretty rough breakup. Still going through it, really. Those of you who, like me, are regulars here, probably know him. Or at least know of him. You certainly know his hooting and hollering. He was the guy I sat with near the bar who always clapped way too loud for someone singing a damn karaoke song." She laughed and the audience laughed along with her. "We're Mr. and Mrs. Rockstar. Or, at least we were. This was one of those breakups that kills a part of you you didn't even know existed. You spend too much time trying to figure out what happened, you know? Everyone, including us, thought we were meant to be. So, when we ended things, I just kept asking myself where we went wrong or what he did or what I did that just caused us to lose sight of one another in what seemed like an instant. I thought he was the love of my life, that indie movie love that only so many people get." She closed her eyes and took a breath, willing back the tears that already threatened to surface. "I loved him harder than I think I could ever love anyone else. But in the same breath, he wasn't just my boyfriend, he was my friend. And so that's why tonight, I'm singing— and playing," she chuckled as she gestured to the piano next to her, "a song that I wrote about us. You guys are still free to record and everything, but I just wanted you to know this is an original piece. In fact, it's the first original I've ever sung here. So," she huffed, "here goes nothing."
She sat down in front of the piano and began playing.
Ah
Ah-ah
Ah, oh woah
Woah, woah
We don't have to lose each other
We could still be friends if you want it
Baby, all these ultimatums
Makin' me feel like we faked it
2 months before the breakup
"This is a joke," Mercedes spat, trying to keep herself together.
Sam narrowed his eyes at her. "Why would I joke about something like this, Mercedes? Really?"
"You just said I should come with you on tour. Pack up, leave everything I know, and follow your ass. Obviously, you're joking, or I'm tripping balls because what the fuck, Sam?"
"Mercedes, this is a golden opportunity! Not just for me, but for you, too!"
His band had just completed a regional Indie Blues tour and was now being offered a spot on an international tour with a commercially signed artist. If all went well, he could be looking at signing with the label after the tour.
"How does this mean anything for me?"
"You don't think they'd love to have you sing backup for a leg or two?" Sam asked her desperately. "What if one night, all the backups for the backups come down with something? A cold! The flu! And they need someone to take the place of one of the main backups? You'll be there! And you can prove how great you are and they'll want to sign you and everything will be great!" He tried to sound encouraging as he reached for her hands.
She pulled away from him. Was he saying what she thought he was saying? "A backup singer, Sam? That's what you think I want to be? That's what you want us to be? Mr. Rockstar and Mrs. Fucking Backup to the Backups to the Backup Singer? That's what you want me to leave my home, my family, my job, the town I've known since I was a little girl to spend the next 8 months doing?"
"Mercedes—"
"I guess that's worth it to you, huh? Because I haven't spent just as long as you have working towards getting signed," she said sarcastically. "Because I haven't been obsessed with making my own music as long as you have. Because I don't want anything more than singing backup for some band in a genre that I don't even know."
"You and I both know you can sing anything, Mercedes. You sing soul! Blues is right around the corner."
She shook her head and gathered her things, walking towards the door. "I don't want to talk about this. I'm done for tonight."
As he watched her reach for the handle, he said, "If you don't come with me, we're over." When she turned to look at him, he doubled down. "I'm serious, Mercedes. This is big for me and I want you there, so if you leave now, delete my number, leave your key, and don't bother coming back."
She would never show it, but that only stoked the fiery rage inside her. "After everything we've been through? Practically giving both our families an extra child? Me showing up for you when your dad passed away? You being there for me when my label let me go? The first song we ever made together? The... the babies? You're ready to give it all up just like that? I thought we were fighters?"
He crossed his arms. "We can't fight if you're not there."
I'll still go and see your mother
I'll still check up on your brother
I meant it when I said "I loved you"
And love just don't go away
2 months after the breakup
Mercedes knocked on the front door lightly, smiling when Sam's mom opened it halfway through. "Lisa!"
"Mercedes! Oh, it is so good to see you," she beamed, stepping across the threshold to hug her tightly. "Everybody's missed you so much!"
"I've missed you guys, too. I brought brownies!" She offered her the platter.
Lisa gasped and took them. "Oh, my goshhh! Faith is just gonna be tickled pink when she gets back from college this weekend. You know she always loved these."
Still on the outside, Mercedes nodded. "I do. I put made them extra fudgy, just the way she likes them."
"Well, don't just stand there like a stranger, come on in!" She pulled her inside.
Lisa warmed up a brownie and they sat down for a coffee chat.
"So, how's everything?"
"Everything's good. My boss is on my behind for no reason as usual, but I'm getting through it."
"That's good, that's good. And how's the music? Writing any new songs?"
She nodded. "Yeah, actually. I've even been putting some melodies and stuff together and reaching out to a few friends in the industry. I'm hoping to release an EP soon."
She nearly jumped from her seat. "Oh, my goodness! Tell me all about it. Do you have a title yet? It's so good to see you finally getting back into the swing of things."
Mercedes smiled warmly. "I do, and I'll tell you all about it. Just so you know, I'm really appreciative of you guys keeping in touch even though Sam and I aren't together anymore. You all have been so helpful in getting me back to a good place musically."
"You're family, Mercedes. Always will be." She took another bite of the brownie and moaned, "Especially if you keep bringing over baked goods every few weeks. Now, onto the more important parts of your life."
"Music is the most important part of my life, Lisa," Mercedes said, knowing where this was going.
"Okay, okay, so the second most. Dating anyone new lately?"
Mercedes ran her finger around the rim of her mug.
"Sweetheart, I know you're here because we're your family and all. And you know you're every bit as much ours. But you deserve to be happy." She pushed her arm a little. "I could understand if God forbid, Sam had died and you were his girlfriend, so you felt like you owe it to us or to him not to get back out there, but my son is alive and well. Halfway across the world is a lot different than dead."
"I know that." She nodded. "I do. But I feel like this is where I should be."
"You're not here for Sam, though. Are you?"
"No. I mean, I'd be lying if I said that I haven't fantasized about us sharing some random baked good and him miraculously walking through the door for a surprise home visit. But that's not what brings me here. I guess as far as dating goes," she shrugged, "no one is interesting anymore. There's no one that can make me stop thinking about Sam 24/7— how his tour's going, where he's at now, what he's doing, if he's getting enough sleep. And I know we're not together and he's not here and I've more than accepted that. But he's still," she spread her hand out in front of her forehead, "here."
6 months after the breakup
"HUT! BLUE 42! HUT HUT!" Mercedes yelled, cupping her hands around her mouth.
A couple hundred feet away, Jude Evans, Sam's stocky little brother, turned his head to see who'd made the horrid noise. He laughed before saying goodbye to his teammates and jogging over to her. "You know that's not how you call a cadence, right?" He yelled.
Pushing off of her car, she rolled her eyes and waited for him to get within normal volume range to respond, "Whatever. Maybe you'll have to teach me someday when I give a shit."
He finished his jog and went to hug her only to be pushed away.
"Don't you come all up on me smelling like grass, AXE, and onions. It's enough that I'm letting you in my car." She pushed her sunglasses into her hair as she took him in. "Damn. What is that, 2 new abs? Are you an 8-packer now?"
He flexed for her with a smirk. "Sick, right?"
She laughed. "Sure. Get your Johnny Bravo-looking ass in. We're going for ice cream." When he ran to the passenger's side, threw his football gear over her convertible's door into the backseat, and hopped in, she hit him. "Watch it, Apollo Creed!"
At the ice cream parlor, they found an outdoor seat, enjoying their cool treat while the evening sun beat down on them.
"So how are you doing in school?" She asked after some general conversation. "Keeping your grades up?"
He nodded. "English is a bitch, but—"
"Language," she interrupted him. "Don't let your saint of a mother think she's raising a damn pottymouth."
"Whatever. School is good."
"Got a girlfriend yet?" She teased as she stuck her spoon into her mouth.
A quiet laugh came from Jude as he shook his head. "I'm not going there with you."
"You don't have to. I already saw you and Katie Windsor at the movies on Saturday. I was just gonna ask to see if you'd lie."
In a way that she couldn't tell was truthful or not, he said, "She's not my girlfriend. We just hang out sometime."
She pursed her lips. "Mmhmm. You'd just better be using a condom."
Jude choked on his ice cream. "Woah, woah!"
"Don't even try it." She was unphased. "I was 17 once. I know what happens when y'all 'just hang out'. We don't need any little Evanses running around here." She accented her next words by pointing her spoon at him, "You better wrap. It. Up."
He winced, nearly losing his appetite. "Understood. What about you? You got a new boyfriend yet?"
Mercedes suddenly became totally consumed by the action of playing with her food. "No."
"When will you? You're becoming a spinster, you know?"
She looked up. "I beg your pardon?"
"Look, I appreciate our monthly dates, especially now that Sam's gone and school's starting up again, but you need to get a life." He ignored her scoffing. "Just because you aren't with my brother anymore doesn't mean I don't want you to be happy. We all do."
Her offense slowly turned into gratefulness. She let the smallest of smiles grace her lips. "Thanks, kid."
"So when are you gonna get back in the saddle?" He asked expectantly.
"It's complicated, Jude."
"Complicated how? It's been 6 months. Sam's —excuse my french— a dick for what he did to you. If he can't see how great you are and commit to you no matter the challenge, then someone else will and you need to find them."
She sighed. "Jude, when you have what Sam and I had, and I hope you will someday, it's the best thing ever. And when it then just ends? No graduation, no build-up, just an implosion out of nowhere? You don't just date someone else after that. Or, at least, I don't. I can't. I'm still adjusting to life without him, even after six months; I can't bring anyone new into that right now."
Baby, we don't have to lose each other
I'm the only one that knows you
What am I supposed to do if I can't hit you when I need you?
Just 'cause I can't handle love don't mean I wanna leave you
1 hour before the breakup
"Do you have your humidifier?" Mercedes stood with a pen and paper checklist on a clipboard in her hand.
Sam looked for it in one of his many suitcases. "Check."
They'd made up since their fight a few weeks ago. They hadn't decided to stay together once he left, but they kept their promises; they were going to continue to be there for each other until he left town. Sam had 3 minutes until he had to leave and she, knowing that he was always behind schedule but that he also couldn't afford to be after today, came over an hour ago with a full checklist to ensure he was packing absolutely everything, even the things he wasn't thinking of.
"Vocal steamer?"
"Check."
"Vocal dampener?"
"Check. That's everything, right?"
"That's everything." Mercedes sat the clipboard to the side.
Frowning, Sam shook his head. "No, it's not. Something's missing."
Mercedes silently swept away to get a step stool, go to his bedroom, and reach into the top shelf of his closet. There, she took out a shoebox, unfolded the tissue inside, and removed a small, unsuspecting black case from in between the boots. She then put everything back where she found it.
Sam was growing more frustrated as he plundered through his suitcases, all of which were now open. "I thought my mom put it in here. I… she… Shit! Shit! Shit!"
Then, Mercedes tapped him lightly on the shoulder and offered him the case.
When he saw what she was handing him, he felt himself relax instantly. He opened the case and beamed. "My lucky slide."
As a blues player, Sam wasn't very particular about his slides; he could use just about anything within reach as one. But this wasn't just a slide, it was his lucky slide. The slide was his dad's which, according to him, was given to him by Muddy Waters himself when he was just 11 years old after impressing him by playing one of his riffs on a homemade cigar box guitar. Whether or not that story was true was always up for speculation. However, his dad had had the same knack for blues and the guitar that Sam did. He decided to settle down with Lisa instead of pursuing a professional career, though. So when he died some years back, Sam knew he had to kick things up a notch with his music to make him proud and carry on his legacy. As a result, the slide meant and represented so much to Sam. It connected him not just to his dad but to the monster of a genre that was Blues. He never went on tour without it.
"How'd you find it when my mom couldn't?" He asked her.
She explained, "You probably told your mom it was in the drawer with all your other lucky music things, but you always seem to forget that you don't keep it there. You always put it with your dad's old Red Wings on the top shelf of your closet because it's a top-"
"Shelf slide with top-shelf shoes-"
"Both from a top-shelf man," she finished the phrase he coined.
He chuckled. "No one ever remembers that. Not even me."
Smirking a little, she said, "I know."
2 weeks after the breakup
Mercedes stumbled into her apartment tiredly. She'd had a meeting with some writers today about a potential gig for her in downtown Nashville. It fell through. This was her fifth "no" in the last two weeks. Nothing was making her feel better or more motivated. She'd spent the last 6 nights at a bar and not even drinking herself into a stupor was helping. She decided she'd skip that tonight. No way she could slum it with the other drunkards for a 7th week in a row, lamenting to the strangers about her rapidly failing music career.
She threw herself onto her couch and after a while, began eyeing her phone on the coffee table. Tonight should've been spent with him. She should've shown up on his doorstep with tears in her eyes and whiskey in her hands. He'd been gone for 15 days today and they hadn't spoken since. But tonight? Tonight their breakup— as lovers or friends—would have to be put on a temporary hold. She needed him. She reached for her phone and dialed his number. It went to voicemail and she sighed. Was he busy or ignoring her? Either way, she should've seen it coming. By the time she remembered to hang up, there was a beep. So she said fuck it.
"Hey, Mr. Rockstar," her voice already had tears in it. "How's the tour going? Speaking of which, sorry to call so late. You probably need your rest. I just had a rough day and I thought… I thought maybe we could talk? I know that's kind of not our thing anymore," she started crying, "but I really need you right now to tell me that everything's going to work out." She sniffed before realizing what she was doing. "Shit. Um. Just ignore this, okay? I'll be okay. Have a good night." She hung up before she even removed the phone from her ear and threw it across the room with a scream. Maybe it was the constant unrelenting rejection, maybe it was the lack of correspondence, maybe it was the fact that the first correspondence in two whole weeks would be the sound of her snot in his ear, but now she was realizing that it was over. Friends or lovers, they were over.
And it was hitting her like three tons of bricks.
2 months before the breakup
Sam crossed his arms. "We can't fight if you're not there."
"Like hell, we can't!"
"Jesus, Mercedes."
"Why are you doing this? Is it what I said last week? About not being able to sustain a long-distance relationship?"
He shrugged. "Maybe."
Mercedes massaged her temples. "I didn't mean that, Sam. I mean, it's nerve-wracking, but we can do it. I can do it!"
"Can you? Because I love you, Mercedes. If I felt that you could take it, I'd leave no problem because I'm willing to do what it takes and you'd be too. But in reality, I don't think you can take it. I think that it's going to be too much for you." He neared her. "Look me in my eyes and tell me that you're going to be able to do this. Without a doubt. Tell me you can handle it."
Her response lie in her facial expression that went from being upset to unsure.
"Exactly."
She refused to accept defeat. "What about all the promises we made? We promised to stick together wherever our careers took us. We promised to celebrate each other's victories, even if it meant we lost something. We promised to love and push and fight!"
"Going on this tour is how we stick together. That's how we celebrate our victories, even though we'll be losing what we leave behind. My career could be taking us both across the world. This is me loving you and pushing both of us so that we can fight for our love. But you're not willing to give fully into it. You're not willing to be pushed as far as I am. So if you won't come with me, Mercedes, there's nothing to fight for."
The silence between them was deafening. Finally, there was the jingle of her keys as she pulled them out of her back pocket.
"Mercedes, wait—"
"This is what you want, right, Sam?" She quickly worked the key off of its ring and held it in front of her face. "Well, congratu-fucking-lations. Now, you have it." She slammed the key down onto the entry table beside her and walked out the door, slamming it as well.
The Breakup
Sam closed the luggage compartment on the tour bus and shouted to his bandmates, "That's the last of it."
Mercedes wrapped her jacket around herself, unsure whether the sudden chill was due to the Tennessee November weather or the ghost of their relationship passing over them.
He came around to where she was toward the front of the bus. He instinctively started to take off his coat and hand it to her.
Seeing what he was doing, she stopped him. "That's not your job anymore, Mr. Rockstar," she said in a voice completely free of contempt.
This was it. The moment where they were officially over.
He slowly shrugged it back on. "It could be. One last time, you're sure you don't want to come?"
"Sam…"
"We don't have to do this. I love you."
"I love you, too. More than anything. Which is the part that makes all of this so fucking shitty," her voice got caught in her throat. "I don't want this. I never wanted it. But it's already done."
He gave her a pained look.
We don't have to lose each other
You could still text me sometime
I could still slide through to your crib on some midnight shit
And a bottle of cheap wine
7 months after the breakup
Mercedes was taking a water break offstage when her phone vibrated in her pocket. She smiled seeing the message that popped up.
Heard we're in the same vicinity. I know we aren't in the best of places right now, but if you'd want to meet up, I wouldn't be opposed.
3, Mr. Rockstar
Things had been looking up for her recently. She'd been getting gigs back to back and offer after offer to write and compose for some really big names. Now, she was in St. Louis, opening for a commercial artist in one of their premier soul clubs. He was in St. Louis, too, with the tour at the city's biggest blues house. It was supposed to be one of the last cities he hit before coming home, but the major label wants to see more of how international audiences respond to him, so he was soon to join the tour when it went back overseas. They were also in a much better place now. And while their schedules almost never allowed for consistent conversation, what with him always being in a different time zone, they'd still check in from time to time. She responded.
How about you send me the address of whatever ritzy hotel they've put you up in? I'll stop by if I have time.
3,
She paused. "Mr. and Mrs. Rockstar." They weren't married, but it always felt right. Not so much anymore.
3, Mercedes
Around 12:30 that morning, after finishing her set, taking some pictures, and even signing some autographs, she left the venue and headed straight to the nearest liquor store, thanking God above for the state's laissez-faire alcohol laws that allowed it to be served so late. Then, she headed to the address Sam sent her. Ritzy, indeed.
Sam nearly jumped from excitement when he heard a knock at his door. He opened it with a grin. "You came!"
She met his tone, "I did!"
Naturally, the two went in for a hug, neither realizing that they were practically inhaling the other and holding on a little too tightly for a little too long. Luckily, though, neither realized the other was doing it either.
"And I brought something." She held out a brown paper bag.
He laughed a little too loudly. "Brown bagging it, huh? We're going old school."
She snickered. "You go to a liquor store at 1:00 in the morning and tell me what they bag your shit in."
He lifted the bottle out of the bag and bent over backward. "Wooow. You really went old school. The cheap shit? That gives us migraine hangovers?"
She shrugged. "I guess I was hoping you were okay with getting shitfaced at 2 a.m. on god-awful wine with your ex?"
He smirked and let her inside. "When that ex is you, what choice do I have?"
We don't have to lose each other
I don't know what I would do without you, no, no, no
More than just used to be lovers
I thought we were friends
The Breakup
"I don't want this. I never wanted it. But it's already done."
"But if we could just—"
"Can you just get on the bus already before I start crying?" She blurted before gazing at the street below her. "I'd like to send you off with some dignity."
He closed the distance between them, careful not to get too close. "I'm really sorry, Mercedes."
"What am I going to do without you here?" She looked up, proving her request was useless. She was already crying. "You're my everything. And we're not going to be talking, we're not going to be texting, we're completely throwing this away, Sam! Fuck!" She ran her hands through her air, drawing in a cold breath. "It's one thing for you to say no to being together, but what about what we were before? What about being friends? Do we just not do that anymore?"
For a moment, he was at a loss for words. "I really don't know, Mercedes." I don't want to throw anything away, but I don't see any other option."
"You could give me a chance," she begged. "When have I ever not been worthy of that?"
"You've always been more than worthy of that." He shoved his hands in his pockets as he backed away from her. "But it won't work, we both know it. It'll just prolong the inevitable. And when it comes to a friendship… I'll have to think about it. Because right now, I can only think about how much I love you and how much we should be together, physically and romantically." He blinked back tears of his own. "That's not a good place to be in with a friend."
Her face scrunched up as she let out a sob.
If his heart hadn't been broken before, it was now. Beyond repair.
This don't gotta end
This don't gotta end
This don't gotta end
Don't gotta end, baby, babe
Mercedes let her tears finally fall as she sang the last notes of the song. As usual, the crowd loved her, but they seemed to cheer a little louder this time. It was almost as if they were making up for Sam not being there. And they almost did. Almost. She walked off the stage and looked at her phone. 9:00 on the dot. Sam was set to be leaving any minute now. Her thumbs wandered her over to Instagram, where he was going live. She was right. As soon as she entered the live, Sam and his band buddies were waving goodbye to the people outside as their bus left the parking lot and got onto the road. Somewhere not so deep inside her, Mercedes couldn't help but feel a large part of her shrivel up and die as the love of her life left the city with no intention of ever resuming his position as her lover.
1 year after the breakup
Mercedes put the dome on top of the cake plate and walked out to her car. She and Lisa had developed a system now: First, she'd make a bunch of bite-sized somethings— brownies, cookies, cake pops, etc. She'd bring dirty her dishes and utensils with her. Then, in a week or so, when she joined the Evanses for dinner, she'd take her freshly cleaned bakeware back home with her. Another week or so later, she'd come for dinner bringing something bigger (mostly so Lisa didn't eat several of them back to back)— a pie, a cake, the occasional cobbler, her recently used bakeware in tow. Then they'd do it all over again. It worked out perfectly; the Evanses got free desserts every other week and she got free food and the relief of not having to do dishes, meaning she could make whatever she wanted.
Her day hadn't been all that great, but tonight was a special night with the family; Jude had gotten into UPenn, his dream school, and they were celebrating him. Being in good spirits with her family (which was originally Sam's family, but that was a distinction without a difference) was sure to cheer her up. She went to knock on the door, Lisa pulling her usual routine of opening up before she got the chance to.
"Mercedes!"
"Hi, Lisa. I made Jude's favorite," she held up the cake plate, "caramel cake!"
"Oh, heck yeah!" Jude ran to the front door and took the cake from her.
Mercedes hugged Lisa before playfully berating Jude, "Uh, hey? Elon Musk Hemsworth, how about you greet your guest before you swipe a cake from my hands?"
"You're not a guest. You have a designated seat at the table." Then, giving in to her look that said, "seriously?", he handed the cake to his mom and hugged her.
She squeezed him. "Congratulations, baby brother. You earned it."
He thanked her before retreating back into the house, bringing his cake with him.
Mercedes took off her coat and said to Lisa, "Okay, so I saw Faith's car is here. Expected. But there's someone else? Certainly, you didn't get Jude a new car."
Lisa scoffed, "You know better than to think that."
"Okay," she said warily. "This isn't a replay of the weekend before Halloween, is it?"
That weekend, Lisa had "coincidentally" invited over a couple of eligible bachelors from the neighborhood the very night Mercedes was set to bring her famous chocolate chip cookies.
"Not quite." Lisa's lips hinted at a smile.
Mercedes narrowed her eyes. "Lisa…"
"Hey, baby," a voice said from the living room.
Mercedes peered around Lisa and became glad Jude'd stolen away with the cake when he did as her limbs went numb and her heart all but stopped.
It was Sam.
In his living room.
Off of tour.
Months early.
A few feet away from her for the first time in five months.
And other than being a little skinny, looking as fine as ever.
In an instant, the world stopped spinning.
Then, he said, "Can we talk?"