5

Phillip shifted and strained in an ill-fitting suit and tie. He'd asked Jessica if she wanted to grab a drink at his favorite bar, but as a superstar she was understandably shooting for something more formal, and apparently she was bringing someone else. In the end, he'd let her choose, and now here he was, a semi-niche indie rock artist at this exclusive celebrity party among the stellar likes of blues chanteuse Haley Reinhart and timeless metal legends Avenged Sevenfold, and the exponentially less talented but equally money-raking likes of Justin Bieber and Rebecca Black.

He didn't mind too much that Jessica wasn't coming alone. Considering her most probably busy schedule, he was partially amazed she even agreed to the proposition, even though he had expected his song to be the best. The song had pleasantly shocked even himself with how well it came out. He had taken a solemn minute to appreciate the hidden artistic genius of his subconscious manifested in a dream state. Still, the Grammy-winning megastar actually taking her time out to accept this offer came as a nice surprise.

It wasn't so much that Jessica was bringing someone with her that bothered him. Of course she had a right to friends and colleagues. And boyfriends. It was more that she wouldn't tell him the nature of the person. He found it weird that she wouldn't, but who was he to ask? She was the one who invited him to the glitzy celebrity party.

That was also what he told Hannah. She'd been ecstatic. "Can I go?!" she'd enthused. No, honey, only me, he'd said. "Why not?" One ticket, he'd said. He lied. It was a password."Well, don't forget to get me an autograph!" That I will, he'd said, kissing her on the cheek, feeling like a kid whose parents allowed him to go to a party.

Now he stood there with a glass in his hand, thrilled from head to toe. He hadn't been so excited about anything in years. He barely acknowledged Haley Reinhart, who winked at him as she whirled by in a billowing black dress, even with her beau Stefano on her arm (who shot her a venomous glare). Four years was really no joke of a time lapse. He couldn't believe that at any moment he'd see her, hug her, talk to her, laugh with her just like the old times before that damn Idol victory. He wondered if she was still the same.

On the other side of the gigantic hall – Carly Rae Jepsen's mansion was known for being the largest in the area – Jessica stood on the second-floor balcony with her own glass and surveyed the room in Landa-esque fashion. She could feel the anticipation caught in her throat. First scans didn't reveal a Phillip Phillips, however. With so many men all dressed the same, she wondered if she could spot him wearing a grey shirt. Probably not, with the dress code and all, but she still smiled nostalgically at the thought. Then she began looking for tousled brown hair. The list did narrow down slightly, with the sheer number of men sporting shiny Biebercuts, but it didn't help much. Jessica sighed; she noticed she was doing that a lot lately. Knowing she should be waiting for Mike, who was getting a drink, she decided that he could catch up with her later and that she wanted to venture into the sea of people in search of Phillip.

She almost tripped skipping down the stairs.

He saw her first, because he instantly recognized her navy blue dress. It was a modified, more mature version of the one she'd worn on Top 3 night, and she looked absolutely stunning in it, then and now. It accentuated her slender, shapely figure perfectly and Phillip found himself uncomfortably distracted by the low-cut neckline. It took the strength of the world for him not to stare, and then he was staring at her face: her soft features, full lips tightened in a nervous smile, subtle pink blush, jet-black eyeliner elegantly sloping upwards at the edges and framing her roving black eyes. She was breathtakingly beautiful – or she would be if Phillip had been able to breathe at all.

She noticed a man she didn't recognize eyeing her from near the bar. He was tall, pale and gaunt, looking disheveled and out of place in a slightly undersized black suit. Jessica broke into a sweat and her first thought was to call security, but the more she looked at him, the more the handsome stranger seemed oddly familiar. She blinked, then shook her head. It took a good number of blinks and head-shakes before her heart started screaming.

It kept screaming as she made her way swiftly through the crowd, stepping on dresses, pushing apart couples and uttering quick "Excuse me"s, as she closed the distance between her and the man she hadn't seen in four years. And then, there he was, right there in front of her.

"Phillip," she exclaimed as she threw her arms around him.

Deja vu.

In that moment, everything, absolutely everything was alright. But we all know what we humans and our psychological complexities enjoy doing – screwing up what is alright. Jessica was no exception. Even as she reveled in his arms, her scumbag superego decided that her screaming heart needed to be silenced for the good of her, her relationship and her career. Phillip, on the other hand, was too overwhelmed by the joy of his id to even speak. For the first time since his depression kicked in, he felt genuinely happy. In the afterlife, Freud watched with keen interest, scratching his beard thoughtfully.

"Oh my god, it's been so long," breathed Jessica when they finally let go ten seconds later. She looked at his face, into his turquoise eyes, then at the rest of him. She realized why he'd been unrecognizable. He'd grown so thin, so pallid. Shallow lines sketched the years in his profile. That cheerful, jokey quality she found so endearing had been completely replaced by a subdued tiredness. Even his grip seemed weaker than it had been the last time. What in hell has he been through?

"I know, huh," said Phillip, beaming, still in disbelief. "Insane." Jessica felt a wave of relief. The laid-back, cool-guy southern drawl was still there. At least there was a part of him she still knew. But even that was tinted with some degree of seriousness.

"Like, seriously, how are you?" she effused, feeling the silly grin on her face. "Four years and you haven't changed a bit!"

Phillip chuckled darkly. "That's a lie."

"No, I mean it! Still got that PP swag and all that," continued Jessica as she struck a pose. She had to keep speaking, keep joking around. That was J-Chez. Jessica Sanchez would burst into tears.

Suddenly, she felt a tap on her shoulder. "Well well well, someone sounds excited," she heard from behind her. She felt a hand reach around her waist.

"Hey, Mike," she said, returning the gesture and pulling him close.

"Just couldn't wait for me, could you?" he teased.

Jessica blushed a deep red. "Well, I couldn't make him wait, baby," she giggled.

Phillip could only stare, dumbfounded. "Mike?" No way. It couldn't be. It was impossible. Something had to be wrong.

"Oh, sorry," said Mike, snapping out of his private reverie to face Phillip. A mischievous grin spread across his narrow face, and he looked like he was trying to suppress a laugh. "I don't believe I've properly introduced myself." He reached out his hand and the grin widened. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Phillips. I'm Michael. Michael Colton Dixon." He couldn't hold it in anymore, and cracked up. "Of course, you can call me Colton."

Only now did the astonished Phillip take his hand. "Eyyy Colton, my man," he said, as they shared a solid bro-hug.

"What's with the name change, man?" asked Phillip as he pulled away and appraised his old friend. Colton was only one year younger than him, yet he looked so much more youthful and full of energy. His face was bright, his clothes were slick, and his hair was as blond and spiky as ever. He'd obviously been on a roll.

Colton grinned again. "Nah. Colton Dixon's my stage name. Has been, always will be. I'm the frontman of Chrystyl Myth now."

"Who?"

Jessica glanced at Phillip incredulously. "Chrystyl Myth? The biggest Christian alternative rock band? They supported Avenged Sevenfold just three months ago."

"Of course. Sorry I haven't been following the recent stuff. I'm an old man," replied Phillip.

"Anyways, as a frontman I need a stage name, but people I'm closer with – " Colton put his arm around Jessica. "– call me Mike." He smiled and gave Jessica an affectionate squeeze. He tipped his head to her. "I'm her Skinny Mini Mike now," he said, winking.

Phillip smiled lightly. "Cool. Can I call you Colton?"

Colton pouted in mock indignation. "You mean you don't want to be best friends with me?" he whined, the naughty grin surfacing again. Jessica burst into fits of giggling, and he also cracked up. Phillip watched as they laughed hysterically together, and he felt a sudden twinge of loneliness. "Yeah, sure," Colton finally said when he caught his breath. "You're my homie. Call me whatever you want. But don't call me Skinny Mini," he warned, gesturing to Jessica again. "That's her name for me."

"Got it," said Phillip. "Hey, let's find a seat somewhere. I'm kind of tired." It was a lie. The truth was, his knees felt weak.

They were sitting down at a table in the bar corner – Colton drinking a Corona, Jessica sipping a vodka cranberry, and both watching Phillip chug his seventh second of Jack Daniels.

"By the way, congratulations," he said, slamming down the bottle so hard it made them jump a little. "How long has it been?"

"A year. We kept in touch after Idol." Jessica smiled thinly. "But anyways. Thank you, Phil. He's so good to me. I love him so much," she gushed, cuddling up to Colton. Her face brightened. "Oh yeah! What about Hannah? Bet our resident chick magnet still has an 'unstable girlfriend'," she quipped, laughing and rolling her eyes.

Phillip shook his head. "Nope, we're married," he said.

Jessica's mouth fell open. "Congratulations! I'm so happy for you!" she exclaimed.

Or would have exclaimed, had the words not caught in her throat.

She felt like she'd been hit by a train. She swallowed hard, and tried again. "Con-congra –"

Stu-stu-stuttering.

"She's just shocked that you," Colton snapped in mock displeasure, pressing a long finger into Phillip's chest, "didn't even invite her or me to your wedding." He tossed his head divaliciously, and Jessica was able to manage a slight giggle. Oh, Mike, what would I do without you, she thought.

Colton turned back and looked at Phillip with a half-serious expression. "No, seriously, why didn't you?"

"Must've just forgotten."

"Tsk. Some friend you are."

"We also have a kid."

Why does Carly Rae allow trains to drive in here!?

"Jessica, are you okay? I think you drank too much," said Colton worriedly, holding her shoulders and smoothing her hair.

Jessica forced a grin. "Yeah, I'm a little bit tipsy. I'm a really bad drinker. Well, anyone's a bad drinker compared to this guy." She laughed and pointed at Phillip, but couldn't look him in the eyes.

"Yeah, and anyone's a 'stable girlfriend' compared to you," muttered Phillip.

"What'd you say?" Colton's eyes flared.

"It's okay, Mike," pleaded Jessica quietly.

"No, it's not okay. Who the hell does he think he is?" Colton was already fired up. The scene looked ready for a major confrontation.

All three were saved – ironically – by a dimming of lights.