Swords & Axes: A Cheerless Interlude
by The Jessica X

Libby, Sabrina, et al. are © Archie Comics / Hartbreak / Paramount / Whatever.
Adymm and the members of In Absinthia are © me, so there.
This work of fiction is © myself.

Chapter 9: Never Say Never, Adymm

"Psst! Libby!"

I looked around the bookcase to see Adymm's spiky blue hair (well, it had been blue ever since we left Swords, anyway), a shy smile tugging on a corner of his mouth. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"What, I can't come visit my girl on her turf?"

My initial, logically-sound plan was to avoid him for a week or two - y'know, until I could sort out my feelings. As you can see, that dream died quickly.

"First off, I'm not your 'girl'," I hissed, more as a reflex than a well-thought-out statement, as I pulled the book I needed from a nearby shelf. "And if you call me that again, you'll be MY girl - got me?"

As I predicted, he flinched and turned kind of green. Call me what you want, but that was satisfying.

"Second, you don't go to school here. And third, shouldn't you be in your university right now?"

"Hey, no sweat," he said as he followed me to the table where my other books and notes were piled up. "Milnot's in that class, and he always tapes the lectures."

"Well, isn't that lucky for you? Too bad I have to do all my own homework, which is what I'm trying to do right now."

"Sorry," he whispered. "I just- I thought we should talk about..."

I sighed in frustration. Not only was the middle of Butler Library the exact wrong place for this conversation, but I'd only had a single day to wrestle with the issue. "Adymm, you ought to read that 'Women from Venus' book or something. Maybe it would teach you that this is a bad time!"

"Aw, c'mon," he muttered, scooting uncomfortably closer. "I thought about it all day yesterday, and y'know, I didn't want- I mean, not all of a sudden like that, but it's not like I can take it back... and I don't think I want to, anyway."

"Seriously, stop this!" I hissed, glancing around to see if anybody was watching; I figured they could see my cheeks burning from space by now. "Maybe you're done thinking, but I'm not! I need more time!"

"Why? We like each other, what's to think abou-"

"Listen," I said slowly and deliberately. "I've never really had a serious boyfriend, okay? It's not anything I'm going to rush into blindly. So for now, please, just go."

"But-"

"NOW."

He nodded as he slowly got up from the table. "I'll call you later," he mumbled before leaving.

Yes, it did hurt to see him go like that - I do have some sparse dregs of empathy. But he needed to learn to respect my requests for breathing room, because I really needed to reflect. And I swore I'd do that, right after I finished my paper.

But I couldn't - I couldn't concentrate on reading the source materials, and I couldn't get anything down on paper. I wasted at least half an hour in the library before I checked out the books and threw them in my bag, vowing I'd attack this when I got home.

I stewed over it in my last remaining class of the day, and on the subway, and walking to and from everything. So, as you can imagine, by the time I got to the apartment I had reached a conclusion; I did like Adymm, but the dating thing felt like a mistake. We were friends - why mess with that? Besides, a relationship seemed like something that would put a real strain on my academic performance, so perhaps it would be best not to chance it. My thoughts were put at ease, and I cranked out the paper quickly before I rushed off to the restaurant. I'd just have to tell him all this when he called.

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But that only works if you actually talk. A few days went by, and apparently Adymm couldn't pick up a phone; I called his house once, but his parents said he'd just stepped out (sounded cheap to me). Finally, when I was just leaving Scapelli's after a gruelling night, he ambushed me.

"Adymm, you scared me!" I shouted, clutching my chest - I definitely meant "ambushed", by the way.

"Sorry!" he said quickly. "Really, I didn't mean to-"

"No, nevermind, it's okay." I started walking down the street toward the Chessler flat, taking a few deep, settling breaths. "So, what's up?"

"Not much," he said, shoving his hands in his coat pockets to keep warm. "I just... I was wondering if we could talk again."

I nodded. "Yeah... sorry about going off on you in Butler, it was a little frosty of me."

"Don't worry about it, I'm the one who had the itchy trigger-finger. I mean, you live here, now - we've got all the time in the world, right?"

"I have no plans of hopping the border to Canada, no," I laughed.

"Good. Wouldn't want to lose you to Flannel Land." He coughed. "So..."

"Okay." I cleared my throat, as well. "Maybe I should come right out and say this; I think you're a really great-"

And he kissed me again.

Y'know, it's almost as if he could sense I was going to let him down easy again, that I was going to say it could never work and that we should stay friends, so he moved in for one final, passionate argument the easiest way he knew. It was like the chill of Autumn night air clung around us, frozen in time... and in the middle of it, I gave in to it all.

Again, I'm going to stop relating this stuff there.

He was very persuasive. And by that, I mean all those rational thoughts and reasons melted when I melted - I knew I had to be with him, it all felt more right than anything else I was doing, and it all made sense. We'd been together for a year... it just took us that long to wake up and realise it.

It still took us a few weeks to get used to being a couple. The dynamic changed a little, but after a while we realised nothing was really that different... there was just more stuff we could do together, now. And... we did, stuff that is, but I am a woman of honour - we did not rush straight into the boudoir or anything. Out of the gutter, please!

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Something else changed in that time period - the other guys in the band started calling me, just asking to hang out. I mean, they were cool and everything, but getting a call from Greg is about the weirdest thing that's ever happened to me (and you should know by now that's no casual statement). Killvein didn't seem to like me being around, but he mostly just grunted and drank beer anyway, so I guess it didn't matter. When I was there for a practice, I'd hum along with their songs, and sometimes they'd start playing random stuff, like a Doors tune or something from Radiohead's latest. One day, they played Garbage's "Special" and asked me to sit in, being that I could provide female vocals; I made a complete mess of the lyrics, but Adymm finally broke out the booklet for me and I did okay after that. I never knew you could actually have such a good time in a mechanic's shop.

Then, one day in late November, I walked into T.Q.'s dad's auto center and overheard a very heated argument...

"You're a right little prat, you know that? Getting your knickers in a twist over some bloody girl."

"She's always hanging around, mucking up everything. We need to be getting some work done!"

"Oh, and you're so good at that. You act like a supermodel with a stick up her-"

"Shut up, T.Q.!" Now I was close enough to recognise voices; that was Killvein. I decided to stay out of site behind an old Buick, hoping this would be over soon. "If you weren't too coked-out to see straight, you might know what I'm talking about!"

"What are you talking about, man?" Milnot. "She ain't really bothering anybody but you, so it sounds to me like you got all the issues, here."

"We were supposed to cut a demo last week, and we never got around to it. Seriously, I know it'd be over and done with if we spent more time playing and less time running a goddamn knitting club!"

"You are way outta line and you know it," T.Q. spat. "Tell him he's nuts, Greg!"

"Oi, I don't remember saying I cared what this wanker thought."

"Yeah? Well, you guys can go screw yourselves!" Suddenly he was coming my way - there was nowhere to go, and no time to get there. "Find yourselves another frontman, 'cause the Killvein is going solo!"

And we were face to face; all six-one of him towering over my measley five-four, his pierced nostrils flaring. "Um... hi there, handsome."

"Outta my way!" he growled, shoving me into the car and stomping toward the exit. Then Milnot was on that side of the car, too, ready to yell something nasty after him until he noticed me.

"Libby! What are you doing here?"

"Getting injured by that oversized baby, it looks like," I said, rubbing the brand new sore spot on my arm. "What was all that about?"

"Hey," he said, helping me over to one of the folding chairs they had set up next to an old table full of crap. "Here, sit down a minute."

"I'm fine, really... but he was very obviously pissed."

"More ways than one," Greg muttered, taking a swig from an Aquafina. "That git hasn't learned the values of sobriety."

"How much did you hear?" T.Q. asked.

"Enough," I said quietly. "He thinks I'm creating a Yoko factor."

"He thinks at all?" Milnot scoffed. "News to me."

"Hey, guys," Adymm said as he walked in. "Sorry I'm late, got held up by the parents." He dumped his guitar case on the table and massaged his neck. "Hey, what's Killvein's deal? He was acting all angsty on the way out, wouldn't even stop to..." It was about then he noticed the sombre vibe in the room. "Everything okay?"

"Not quite," Greg mumbled.

"He went off on us for letting Libby hang around," T.Q. filled him in. "For some reason he's blaming her for whatever's been eating at him lately."

"He got a little physical with her, too," Milnot put in.

"Oh, Libbs," he said, rushing over to me when he saw my hand on my shoulder. "What did he do, are you okay?!"

"God, will you guys stop fussing over this? It's not like I'm bleeding... probably won't even bruise."

"I swear to God, I'm gonna-"

"You're gonna leave it alone," I insisted, glaring him down. "Besides, you've got bigger problems."

"Not to belittle her pain, but Women's Lib has a point," Greg said, setting down his water thoughtfully. "The blighter did say he quit the band."

"Yeah." T.Q. sighed, running his hands through his shaggy brown hair. "I dunno, maybe he'll cool off and we can do some damage control tomorrow, or-"

"No thanks," Milnot laughed harshly. "He's no Freddie Mercury, and I can barely stand the asshole."

"Yeah," Adymm said, absentmindedly rubbing my back. "None of us like him, but we keep coming back to the same problem - what else do we do?"

T.Q. leaned back. "Denver's out of the hospital now, so we could ask him to fill in for a couple sets..."

"And then what?" Greg said pointedly. "We need an outright replacement, not a single-use delay-of-inevitable."

"I know, I know," Adymm growled, getting up and pacing. "Problem is, there are too many Killveins in New York, and all the really good singers around here are already in good bands."

"Not all of them," Greg said quietly... and to my horror, his shades and everybody else's eyes seemed to be pointed at me.

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END Chapter Nine