Hello! It is Wednesday and I am back with a new chapter. This one is actually an AU story and even though I have only touched on it briefly once before, it is still pretty easy to follow along. Shannon and I created this AU a couple of years ago now and funnily enough, I wrote this one at the beginning of 2021. But because I hadn't actually written a more introductory chapter to the AU, I needed to get that done before I could publish this one! Otherwise it would make a whole lot less sense. It feels like a good one to upload just before Halloween. This chapter follows our "Team Rocket AU" where instead of Jessie and James pairing up in Team Rocket, it is Misty and James because she is in the organisation rather than following Ash on his journey. And this story focuses quite far into James and Misty's lives together. You meet their only son, an AU version of Justin. And he meets someone in this chapter who will be quite special to him. I hope you enjoy :3

Disclaimer: I own the story and the AU OCs mentioned!

Feeling his shoulders brushed by crowds of people as they left the venue, Justin waited for the room to empty. Hunched in the doorway and his hands bedding deep into the comfort of his pocket, he tried not to get in the way and bother anyone. Meanwhile, his eyes could not help but travel to someone.

The truth was, he didn't know why he was lingering. It wasn't exactly the normal thing to do from the way everybody's bottoms had left their seats the minute that the artist had left the stage at the gig and they all made their way to wherever was next. For some, it was the next adventure of the night life. For others it was to the familiarity of a warm bed and putting the bright elation of the day behind them before an early morning shift crept up on them.

Whatever the case may be, they didn't stick around. Justin was not everybody.

Loitering in the doorway until the crowd of people dissipated for good, his hands finally stop crevassing so deeply in his own pockets. He pulled them out, immediately his slightly damp hands feeling the cleansing touch of the pads of his fingers.

Though as soon as his digits stopped rubbing and his neck continued craning, still looking in that one place, the flat of his hand felt all the more clammy. He put it down to excess adrenaline from everything that he had seen and everything that he had heard that night needing to escape from him somewhere.

His fingers attaching themselves to a button on his long trench coat, at least they had something to do to pass the time. And then, all of a sudden, as though the rest of his body decided that time wasn't going to simply be passed there and then and moments were going to be seized, his legs carried him away from his little corner and over to where his eyes had been lingering.

There was confliction in Justin's mind and in his ears too as he kid himself that he could hear his brain chattering away to him. Both sides of him were battling things out, one piece of him saying that what he was doing was ridiculous and the other one reminded him that is was perfectly okay to start a conversation.

With a silent but purposeful exhalation of breath that caused his chest to rise and fall even though he did not utter a single sound, he put both opinions out of his mind. The one causing his legs to move, a different, voiceless voice was the one he listened to. He had every right to act on a spontaneous impulse. It served him well on stage when he took to one himself. He hoped it would serve him even better in life at that point.

Ignoring the continual dampness of his hands and running it through the long locks of his hair for something to do as well as calm the nerves of his palm, the sound of his boots clicking came to an end as he found himself as near as he could to the stage without climbing on.

As soon as he was there, he could sense not only the residual electricity from the euphoria that had taken place on that same stage just a few minutes prior but with his own eyes could see up close what they had been fixating on. He could see the person.

There he was with subtle dew on his forehead and on his top lip too but this time from the new activity that he had been doing rather than clutching a guitar and shimmying on stage.

The musician had quite a job in unplugging all the instruments from amplifiers as well as disconnecting the stage lights but he managed to get all of that done in reasonable time. With his back then to the stranger, he hopped down from the stage, his movements surprisingly graceful in spite of their force.

A breath hitched in Justin's throat. He didn't know why but when they were on the same level, he felt taken aback and like he didn't really know how to play it cool at all. Rather peculiarly, he felt more of an ease when there was an invisible gap between them: when one was just a musician on the stage and the other was just one single person in the audience.

But now the playing field was level. And it was time to actually act on that small desire that took over his mind. Would he go through with it? Of course he would. In the same way that he took to his own stage, he swallowed down the butterflies and kept them in the pit of his stomach. Their fluttering would elevate him and his shoulders. And they would prompt him to where he needed to be.

Justin took those steps and followed after the man that he had not been introduced to properly. He was just beginning to fill his clutch with a bunch of chairs, piling them on top of each other in order to put them underneath the stage when he at last felt that he wasn't alone.

He had just a second to fill his vision with a silhouette. And then the sound opposite to a silence filled his ears.

"Hi." Justin's voice filled the concert hall that was empty apart from those two young men. Strands of his hair felt the company of his hand once more and then he added, managing to look in the direction of his own company. "Need some help?"

His offering came and then his mouth naturally widened too, grinning. And before he got a reply back, his fingers started to wrap around a bit of plastic decorating above the back rest of the chair. He wasn't quite so bold as to start acting properly. But this gesture in itself showed how keen he was.

The musician's eyes properly focused. Adjusting themselves to the regular lighting of the venue that seemed dully light compared to the vibrant spotlights that had been on him prior for at least an hour, his eyelashes danced next to his sockets.

Pupils like blackcurrants dropped down. Justin's touch twitched on the plastic of the chair. The other man wanted to recoil. Something in him wanted to recoil, his expression still not softening even though his eyes had long since adjusted to the light.

A bit stone faced, he blurted out more rigidly than he intended.

"No, I don't need any help." He responded, his own eyes fixating on Justin's, beady and hawk-like in comparison to the soft, flickering stare of the other males. Needless to say, this wasn't what either of them envisioned happening. So in a cough laced tone, he elaborated. "Thanks. But you probably have your own shit to do."

Managing to allow the previous unexpected reaction to roll of him like water off a ducks back, Justin did consider this and his expression articulated that. Hand loitering wrapping around the plastic of the chair, his shoulders bounced just once and his already full lips puckered.

No, he did not have anywhere that he would rather be. But of course, he didn't exactly express his truth in those words!

Another smile came from Justin, his own eyelashes grooving on his face in what he hoped would come across in a good way.

"I don't, really. It's no trouble at all." His own reply came and with that, the plastic of the chair stopped feeling the continual clutch of his hand as he instead moved to properly pick it up. He intended to lift one on top of another one and so forth just like the other man was doing.

The look that came from him should have stopped him. But it didn't. While he had been drawn to staring at him from the corner and with distance between them, now that they were closer to each other, his eyes were darting everywhere other than the man covered in tattoos beneath his stage outfit.

Justin could not feel a stare honing in his direction even when it became a scorching sort of look. He had only three chairs stacked in comparison to the usual ten or so when he was finally snapped at for good.

The musician managed not to whack the flat of his stable palm against the base of the chair in a kind of exasperated frustration.

"Help is not needed!" he repeated, his voice attempting to come out firm but it could not help but rise in a way that was bordering on humorous at the sheer audacity of the other male. Justin's eyes finally made their mind up of where they wanted to be. "Listen, mate, me cleaning up after my own gig is bit of a package deal." A pause. Justin's vision was filled with him, blinking. "If you need some extra cash then ask around. Become an opening act or something.

Justin's eyes slowed down their movements and he drew backwards, his hands sliding away from the chairs altogether. A part of him was slow and cautious because he was studying; listening. He hadn't heard that kind of accent in person before and he felt that it was vastly different from the way that melodies escaped his lips when he was singing.

He forced himself to wise up soon enough! Whatever the person sounded like when they were in their element and whatever accent they possessed, it didn't sit well with him the way that he was being spoken to.

Justin was glad that his touch was no longer on the seats. He had the opportunity to fold his arms over his chest as he responded back.

"I watched your performance and just wanted to tell you how much I enjoyed it and maybe even pay you back a bit for such a nice night." He explained. Then his own eyes and demeanour took on the same quality as in the second before the man opposite him had turned on him so. "But now…"

He didn't even need to express with words how little he was interested in fulfilling his desire anymore. Justin's toes twitched in his boots, his arms falling away from his chest as his touch had done previously from the plastic of the seats.

The musician knew that he was about to flee the scene. And it was then he knew he had been gravely mistaken and overly rash as well as defensive too.

Seeing his errors as boldly as he did when he took to the stage and sang a duff note or his guitar rang out in the wrong manner, he was forced to recoil in a contrasting way. His eyes softened behind their continually squinty exterior and then that mouth of his that had been so stubborn puckered.

He tasted his own bottom lip. He knew he would taste the sting of remorse even longer if the young man who had joined his side really did clomp away in his boots and with his long trench coat swaying behind him.

He forced that stubborn streak of his to disappear for good. Although he still didn't quite understand why he wanted to be so nice to him, he could see that he himself had been the opposite of nice. He tried to apologise.

"Look…" that low voice of his tried to sound once more. Initially, Justin had an expression that visibly expressed how little he wanted to know without him having to utter any sounds at all. The tattoo dotted man just had to hope he was good at expressing himself in conversation as he was in verse. "I misjudged you… Guess I'm too used to doing things on my own."

A lousy excuse, Justin thought as his legs longed to carry him away from the scene in his skin tight black skinny jeans and boots of the same exact shade. He nibbled on his own lip as the voices in his head were back again and they told him differing opinions.

He managed to ignore them both far quicker than he had previously done. He listened to what he really wanted and he couldn't help but feel that although it was a lousy excuse, it made it somehow more… acceptable?

Nevertheless, his own guard was slightly up when it had previously not really been at all. His face and his eyes started to turn towards the musician once more, as well as his feet in his heeled boots.

"You're terrible at accepting an offer of help." Justin pointed out, taking quite a risk in doing so. One couldn't help but wonder whether he regretted it or not. His steady but not suffocating gaze made it appear that he completely intended for these words to come out.

The man stared back. One of Justin's green coloured eyes met two ones of a similar shade belonging to the person opposite him. His jaw clenched like he had been punched. He had been floored with words.

Maybe he took that better than actual physical violence. Maybe the way it was delivered had something to do with it. Or maybe the person delivering the blow had everything to do with it.

He gave his broad, stubborn shoulders permission to drop. He must have taken a slow and concentrative inhale and exhale from the way that his chest moved without making a sound. Justin had to resist the urge of his mouth quirking up ever so slightly in the corner when the musician nodded just once and so very subtly.

"I'll take the offer now." He replied. There was something about his tones that were almost solemn and at the very least slow. His eyelashes had begun to twitch near to his sockets once more and in a different manner than previously.

Blinking too much would've made him appear vulnerable. But it was as though his eyelashes couldn't help but dance and groove, letting his guard just a fraction down in already a vast comparison to the fact that it had been so high moments before.

Justin gave him the time of day to hear him out. He sighed a sigh that was just for him to recognise. And then, he appreciated the other man's gestures more than the actual words he said. There was something about him like a rabbit in the head lights. Or some kind of creature that just didn't know a better way to act than with feistiness as a method of protection.

He didn't give himself permission for his shoulders to drop as he inwardly softened. Instead, Justin copied the other man's singular, brief nod. And with that, he accepted his offer of wanting another offer. And the two of them set to completing the task together.

They had the same mannerisms as they stacked chairs and slid them under the stage and even began using their fingers to pick up debris that the concert goers had left on the floor of the stage room in Team Rocket Headquarters.

Water bottles, cigarette butts, snack packets, little plastic bags and even fliers started to fill their hold before they got discarded to the bin.

One of them swept the floor while the other double checked all of the chairs had been put away. One of them shut the hatch leading to the food area while the other one picked up bits off the floor that would have clogged up the hoover like there was no tomorrow. One of them disappeared to actually get the hoover while the other one waited.

The musician covered in tattoos had his arms wrapped around the tall standing vacuum cleaner once he returned with it and he decided that this was a good time to speak to the other man once more. Before any potential conversation of theirs could be stifled from the whirring noises that would go on to sound. And before his words had a chance to be sucked away like the debris of the concert area.

One arm stopped wrapping around the cylinder and made a tentative effort to reach out to Justin. Like he didn't actually offer the words 'sorry' in response to his unexpected defensiveness in the moments that happened before, he didn't offer an actual 'thank you' either.

"I'm Harry, by the way." He told him, a hand that was covered in a couple of tattoos and rings stretching out towards the other male who was no doubt even expecting any kind of contact at all.

Justin's eyes dropped down to the digits that he had been focusing on so utterly from his seat in one of the middle rows when he had been on the stage. Then, he filled his vision with a flier that was lingering in his own hold.

Somehow, he managed to resist letting out the sarcasm that was true to his own character too early in their introduction. Not that Harry had seemed to hold back with him!

The corner of his mouth being allowed to curve up at last just a fraction of the amount that he would've liked, some of his true self snuck out before he moved on.

"I know. I'm Justin." And with that, his hand slid into his, shaking it. It didn't feel like he imagined. Not because the texture was off or it was smaller than he imagined but he gathered that those butterflies in his stomach might turn into a frenzy once more. But they didn't. "I'm in Purple Team."

Their touch lingered for a second more. Fingers brushed up against each other as they clasped each other. Then they fell apart. Though Justin hadn't asked it of Harry, it was the polite and proper thing to do to answer as well.

Moving away from both he and the vacuum, he moved to plug it in before replying despite the fact that he had lines appearing between his brow at the colour team name that Justin had mentioned. What he did afterwards surprised the more slender male more. He would have to get used to him doing that.

"Yellow Team." He responded. Not another word from him, let alone two. Not a sentence uttering the fact that his name was familiar and he had seen him wandering around. Not the fact that Purple Team wasn't actually a primary team. Not even a single word of politeness, telling him that any of what he said was cool.

Instead of Harry's vocal chords making any sounds at all, the vacuum cleaner began to hum and as it slid up and down the concert area floor, it sucked up any memories that were left from the night before.

Justin would really have to get used to that! The man with hair coloured a shade of brown got back down to the second part of his job. Justin watched as he noticed how few words escaped him. But he decided that as long as he didn't use those few words of his in stubbornness and defensiveness against him, then he wouldn't have a problem with that at all.

He felt like he had only just properly smiled to himself and thought of this fact when all of the vacuum cleaning had been done. And instead of putting it away tidily like he had sorted everything else out, Harry carried himself back over to the stage once more.

The young man with hair the colour of almost that of an orange sweet fruit watched with a slanted neck as he believed that he was double or maybe triple checking some things. He had done that with the locks on the hatches leading to the kitchen. He was mistaken. Another thing he would have to learn is to be mistaken.

And he would learn to be caught between two mind-sets once again when Harry decided to take a break and flop himself down right onto the stage floor – and Justin wondered whether he should join him.

He had initially felt butterflies of a different nature when the tattoo decorated man had leapt down from the stage to begin cleaning the floor but he had become adjusted to sharing the same field as him. Now it was back to an artist on the stage – even if he was resting – and a man loitering on the concert goer area, he was experiencing a familiar sort of unsettled feeling.

Justin didn't exactly get the impression that he was disliked but he certainly didn't feel liked! And though he had taken to many stages of a similar size and bigger to the one in Team Rocket Headquarters, he almost felt like he didn't belong there. He wasn't up to owning that stage. And he certainly wasn't to sharing it with Harry.

But something changed within him when Harry actually looked over to him while lying down, those ring adorned fingers of his running through his own hair as he silently mused. With that look, he threw a rod to Justin and reeled him in.

Harry was doing all of the thinking while Justin was doing none. Before he knew it, though he wasn't quite laying on the stage near to him, he was sat perched on it as well. Justin felt the presence of looming instruments and amplifiers and stage equipment while the brown haired man felt the presence of the pink hued orange haired coloured man.

They inhaled and exhaled, breathing in and breathing out. It was anyone's guess who was going to speak next. And it was quite easy to presume!

Despite the fact that he had been taking the same breaths as Harry, Justin for some reason felt like he hadn't really been breathing at all. Rather than fearing making any sort of noise and the rigid side of him coming back once more, he seemed to fear breathing out too loudly and making their moments together – whatever they were – blow away.

However, unable to stop his expressions from forming as he thought about something to do with their last conversation, two lines appeared above his forehead. He looked down at Harry, eyes still shut and fingers roaming through strands of brown.

As Justin spoke, his legs stretched outwards, away from his body and a bit more towards Harry.

"Yellow Team? Were the first two words that escaped from him and immediately, he was met with a very clear albeit muffled 'huh?' sound coming from the ground. Justin clarified. "You're Yellow Team? How did that happen?"

Ah, the infamous Team Rocket team colours. It was true that Team Yellow was a main one along with Red and Blue but in more cases than not, they ditched their colour to an unofficial one almost as soon as they succeeded in becoming a fully-fledged member.

There was always an odd one out in a group of three and it was definitely Yellow Team of Team Rocket. It was certainly not the norm to come across anyone of that hue, let alone someone of that age.

Justin was not ignorant to the look coming over to him from Harry at that point and he could read his puckered lipped and brow furrowed expression as soon as it took place on his face. He stopped filling his vision with him seconds after. It wasn't because he was embarrassed or ashamed in the slightest.

No, he just knew if he stared too long then he would not hear a word that he said in reply, too busy dancing through a world of daydream and all about words that were being spoken.

Harry's expression died down soon enough. The back of his head pressing back against the stage floor beneath him, his fingers clasped together and rested on his own chest.

"My parents aren't in the organisation at all." He spoke. He would have been more than happy to leave it at that and from his eyes that had fluttered shut all over again, he could feel Justin's questioning flicker of a glance. He answered his wordless query. "A teenage rebellion move on my part. They allow it to keep happening 'cos it's good money."

Lips puckering together, Justin's eyes wandered to the ceiling.

He was honest.

He couldn't imagine sticking something like Team Rocket out for the sheer money side of things because yes, when it was good, it was very, very good. But it could disappear in an instant. Higher up bosses could claim your pay check in a second.

So why did he stick around in the organisation? He was glad when Harry asked something different.

"Purple Team." That accent fluttered into the ears of Justin and he heard it after some slight scraping movements as Harry adjusted his body against the floor. When his eyes allowed themselves to look at him once more, he had an arm behind his head. "No prizes here." A pause in which he still didn't share the same gaze with Justin as he meant, no prizes for guessing which team colours his own parents were. "If you have any here or at all."

The man with tumbling locks looked down to the ground and in that half a second, Harry might've wondered if his second words were a bad choice. However, dimples decorating on either side of his lips soon appeared and those locks of his were sent cascading down to his shoulders even more with a gesture of the hand.

His leg was beginning to dully ache at being stretched out but it didn't move a muscle. Not until Harry did. Not until he moved away from him or better still, towards him. And even better, not until he actually looked at him again while talking. Or was that just saved for asserting his moodiness?

The names of Justin's parents were uttered to Harry. Misty Williams and James Morgan. Team Rocket Executive and Childcare Manager respectively. They were names that echoed around the halls of the headquarters more than plenty and they were known for far more than their achievements in the organisation.

Justin didn't know whether to feel a palpitation in his chest or a sinking to the stomach when it was his parents – not him – that finally received optical attention from Harry.

He didn't need to repeat the words that the long haired male had spoken to him. Palms pressed against the stage floor, Justin felt them dampening as Harry continued to not only look into his eyes but then his gaze dropped elsewhere. Each place of him that the tattooed man silently studied blushed the shade of the flowers that his father bestowed upon his mother often enough.

The structure of his jaw. The hollow of his cheekbone. The plump shape of his lips. The narrow steadiness of his shoulders.

Harry's face broke into a sudden, extremely unexpected smile. Justin had seen it from a distance when he was on the stage but certainly not up close. And certainly not because of… him?

The puffing sound from the brown haired male's own lips should have been clear but it wasn't to him at first.

"Course you're James' son. Apple doesn't fall far from the tree." Harry said aloud and to which an unusual silence from Justin was the only sound. Thinking it had been all the staring he had been doing, he recoiled. But he did not stop his words. He did not stop them coming though, for the first time; he wondered whether he should be quiet. "You must have quite the passion for music as well then?"

And maybe in the next few minutes he did regret not being quiet! Though Justin's drive was likeable and his talk towards his achievements and songs he had concocted and venues he had played in outside of the organisation was modest, it became clear to Harry that he was just as much of a natural artist as he was. If not more.

In that moment, he blushed and among other things that it could have been, hotness streaked his being all over again and far more intensely over the words he had said at the beginning of their interaction. He had hinted that he should be his opening act to earn himself some extra cash! How embarrassing.

With the influences that he spoke about and the amount of years that he had played a handful of instruments and not just the guitar that was strapped to his chest every second that he was not on duty, it was Harry's turn to without a single word feel the anxiety of sharing a stage with him.

He had passion, no doubt. He had support. He had been filled with love for creating music ever since he was a child and he had parents who not only support that but cultivated it. And they did it because they loved it too. Not because they wanted the life that came from the money bestowed on them by a creative son.

A handful of minutes that was actually closer to two of them later, Justin felt Harry's gaze no longer on him. Managing to Segway into it reasonably enough and only just feeling the wonderment that he had gone too far himself, he turned the subject back to the other male.

It was true that he seemed more of a listener than a talker. But it was rude to not at least offer him the option of his own chance to speak.

Justin made a point of smiling. Harry saw it for a second or two because his own flickering, lightly flushed gaze twitched in his direction.

"So tell me about your history with music. There must be a great many stories there?" he prompted, his lips not evening out from being curved upwards in equal measures. He kept smiling. He kept up eye contact. Then he wondered if it was too much so he brought both of these to a halt. Then he wondered if it was too suspicious!

Eventually, he did what the level headed part of him suggested. And it was this moment that instead of forgoing stretching out, he stretched out even more and he copied the stance of Harry. The two of them were lying on the stage floor together, their heads being the only part of them near each other. But they were near nonetheless.

And maybe it was this thoughtful yet thoughtless gesture from Justin that changed the course of things. Surely it was a beneficial thing that the two of them didn't have the choice but to accept not looking at each other.

With Justin not in his line of vision, Harry was free to talk. And talk, Harry actually did.

"I had been doing music with a bunch of other guys since I was a teenager. Only recently my parents agreed to let go of me enough for me to do my own thing." He told Justin when his squirms against the floor of the stage had managed to decrease just enough. Though there was no pressure over where to look, one eye shut. "I hated it."

The long haired male for half a second did not know what to do. He didn't know whether to copy Harry's demeanour that he was clearly trying to contain and squirm, or exhale. He didn't know whether it was the right thing to press his lips together but he did that.

And then his lips parted once more and he said some words. It was his turn to say few words.

"I get that." Justin simply uttered and Harry couldn't be sure at what he was alluding to. How could he of all people get it? In the way that his parents' names cropped up so many times in his own tales of history with music, he could tell that they were his biggest allies. How could he of all people get it?

Harry supposed that he empathised. He didn't know whether that notion should bring peace to his shoulders or send a shiver down his spine.

He still didn't know even as the words came tumbling out of his lips. Words that could have been saved up for a song but for some reason were being expressed there, in a low lit abandoned concert area and with a young man he had only just learnt the name of.

"There's nothing worse than having to second guess everything that I'm doing. 'Cos in the grand scheme of things it will be rendered futile. If they decide that they want me reverting to what I've always done." Harry expressed. Justin listened. Although for a moment, it wasn't like he had spoken at all. And it was as though no one was listening.

The man with all kinds of doodles dotting up his arms and rest of his body couldn't be sure that he had actually said these words at all because he hadn't even heard them escaping into the ether. He was felt them erupting from his being and out of his core. But he didn't know if they made sense or not, if he had even expressed them at all.

But he had. And Justin did listen.

Feeling the heaviness of his own body against the floor of the stage but the heaviness of the man's words even more so, his eyes dropped down to the sweater covered base of his own neck and trench coat enveloped chest of his.

He didn't dare utter words of empathy at that point. Despite the fact that he could fully appreciate everything that Harry was surprising him by saying and understood where he was coming from, he felt far too fortunate to make out he had similar kinds of struggles.

Justin's parents might have found it tough to keep the dormitory roof over all of their heads and smiled through bared teeth when they lost yet another pay check but the last thing they were lacking in was love.

His thoughts and his feelings were nurtured by James and Misty in the same way that they had cared for and cradled him when he was just a baby. When he wrote things and shared things with them, he was embraced due to how willing he was to get personal about his feelings in song form.

When he came up with a new riff on his guitar, he was tickled pink to be compared to some of his heroes. When he decided to follow his own unusual ambitions, he was applauded for wanting to pave his own path and setting the road for others to follow him.

He empathised because he knew struggle. But he didn't know Harry's. So he only could speak from his own experiences.

"I always quite like second guessing myself and I love even more when people pick at my music and my performances." Justin confessed. And as he did this, his arm lifted up and ran through the tops of his own locks and in the process, he could have sworn that he traced some of Harry's as well. "It helps me grow. Or if not, it makes me more certain that I've hit upon something great and no other opinion can change that."

A halted gasp sounded from the back of Harry's throat. Ever so gently, this halted gasp sounded and it was not because Justin's hand had brushed through some of own locks for just a couple of seconds.

In that moment, Harry could see that they came from vastly different backgrounds. And empathy was only going to get Justin so far.

It was somehow far more effective that he didn't snap. Not once.

"That's because you're fundamentally supported no matter what. If you're critiqued with hate or with love, you go home and get congratulated for doing your own thing." Harry sighed. He let out a massive breath and a massive noise that had been rattling around in his chest for years. "Criticism is their way of saying my time running out. Soon enough it will be back to mass produced lyrics. And teenage years turned to adult years lost on a tour bus with people you hardly even know."

Justin could taste the bitterness filling up the roof of his mouth as if Harry had telepathized that same sensation of his right over to him. All he could do was swallow in the hope that at the very least some of it would go away. But it wouldn't. And the back of his own throat made such a noise that the tattooed male's eyes fluttered shut.

Justin hadn't perceived the previous shutting of the eyes enough to describe it before either way but this time, it was done in a different manner. It was done with remorse. He didn't know why he was even telling him any of this. And he didn't know why he was sharing the realities of some people in the music industry.

The truth was, he liked hearing him talk about things in the way that he did. He had hardly even grunted or twitched his head let alone smiled but it was refreshing to him that someone was so seasoned with influences and experiences but was only just starting out his journey with regards to playing for a paying crowd.

The long haired male was the best of both words. The wisdom and knowledge of someone who had been around since the dawn of music mixed with the innocence of a baby song bird. It made Harry feel a combination of things that he couldn't quite put his finger on. Both happy and sad were some of them. Not that he ever uttered this at all.

Justin eventually did utter some things.

In his mind, he was taking a chance. In reality, Harry's harshness had melted away like butter in a pan. It just took some time and some warmth, and to not be fazed by his tough exterior.

"Don't act like you don't have fundamental support as well." His voice was somewhat of a mirror to the tattooed man's own one. Though their accents were vastly different and their natural pitch couldn't be further from each other, Justin's own vocal chords sounded low and level in that moment. "I was in your audience tonight. You made your people. You made your crowd. Winning over strangers is a testament to what's around the corner for you." Pause happened. A head resisted twitching to the one side. "At least that's what I believe..."

And for the first time that night, it was Justin's turn to feel the world going black around him as he shut his eyes. His eyelids had drawn closed during some points of Harry's stage performance but that was certainly the first time when they were in reaching distance of each other and in each other's presence.

In the same way that Harry did not offer an apology when he snapped, or a thank you when he was helped, he didn't utter a single thing to the words that Justin offered him there and then. He didn't offer him a single thing.

Justin's eyes falling shut didn't protect him from being hurt because there was no hurt at all. Pain at the fault of other's actions only came if you tried to change them and wished they were different. If you merely listened to them but didn't accept them, they could float off you and away from you and vanish into nothingness.

Having a moment or two to wriggle against the hardness of the stage floor below, these motions from Harry eventually ceased and he focused on bringing himself some more comfort. And he did this by asking Justin another question.

"You've performed in many venues then?" he questioned. It was beginning to grow fascinating to the child of James and Misty just how disinterested someone could sound when they were in fact intrigued. It was beginning to add fullness to the pit of his stomach. "Which is your favourite?"

That time, Harry did not have a second to wonder whether he was glad or not that he had decided to speak these words. He didn't even bother to take a second and wish that he had been quiet.

With Justin on the flat of the surface with him and an imagined electrical buzz all around him as the amplifiers and the instruments and the lights conversed with each other what was taking place then – rather than delving into the memories of what had happened when the stage was abuzz and the crowd was alive – Harry knew that he was more than happy to listen. Another thing that was shared in silence rather than in words.

The man with shapes and patterns crawling up his arms had a mind filled with visions as Justin's articulate and descriptive words told him all about the venues he had been lucky enough to travel and take his music to.

The one that was a massive outdoor venue with greenery as far as the eye could see. He still could not believe he had been invited to do that one and had his name written on a poster right below a great many of his favourites. The one right on the coastline and looking out onto the water. That had been a rowdy crowd! But it had been worth it to see the sunlight bouncing off the ocean and the ocean bouncing off and into the eyes of his mother who was filled to the brim with pride.

The theatre venues with all of their history and the way that he reinvented the sounds of his songs to suit the area that he was in. That had given him a lot to think about for when the time would come to actually putting all of his songs together in a proper, full length album.

The pubs and bars and clubs at the beginning of his journey. The cramped tightness. The darkness. Being invisible to the crowd. But then for some reason that he could not put his finger on, a spot light that wasn't even actually there but seemed to be beaming on him.

For whatever reason, in a tiny diner with an unusual name people became almost hypnotised by one particular song of his and they were singing along as if they had unlocked some hidden information inside of their brains after just a couple of seconds of him playing.

Big ones. Small ones. Ones far from Kanto. Ones in his home region. Ones inside the organisation and ones outside. With his parents accompanying him or him making them proud on his own accord. They had all come together to paint the picture of his journey so far. He knew he was so fortunate. He knew that he would make himself even more so.

This was a thought shared by both he and Harry. And this was something that Harry actually did express.

Shaking his head as Justin remained on the floor next to him, wisps of hair only just touching each other, exhalations oozed from the tattooed male as did words. For a rare occasion, he did try to hold back his musings. But he couldn't stop them regardless of the fact that he had tried.

"I don't think you realise how lucky you are." Harry began and he could hear whisking sounds in his ear drums as his head shook from side to side and his hair rubbed against the hard floor below. He felt his words were unusual. He knew Justin did know. "How lucky you are…" Maybe that wasn't the only word. "How free you are."

Silence. Though the long haired male could very much hear the way that Harry's hair had been making whisking noises against the floor long after it stopped actually sounding, he focused on the silence instead.

And it was after Justin did this that he encouraged his mouth to form words in spite of the notion and the prickling on the back of his own neck that he might have been better to keep quiet.

"What do you mean…?" he questioned, the two young men acting as mirrors to each other as their arms pressed down to the floor along with their bodies, as if their entire silhouette was being drawn around. Their eyes wandered to the ceiling that seemed to travel up for miles.

Justin searched up there for the patience to wait for an answer, though he had a lot of that stored within himself anyway. Harry searched up there for the words to say. He knew what he wanted to say. But he didn't know for the life of him how they were going to come out.

Unlike early on in their interaction, he was apprehensive about coming across snappy. He really didn't want Justin to feel bad for having the things that he did not have. He wanted to express a sort of happiness for him. That was mixed with a gut-punching emptiness as well.

Hearing whisperings from strands of hair and the floor, Justin knew they were rubbing against each other once more to fill the silence one more time before an answer at last followed.

"You're just going to go far." Harry shrugged. It was an odd time to compliment him but there it was. The pads of his fingers softly touching against the floor of the stage before breaking the contact again once more, this was the filler before he added. "I think you turn the other cheek to people's attitudes and opinions. You sound like you have a drive like no other. And you have a plethora of unconditional support that cannot be broken…" Justin heard the way that Harry's voice dipped. Yet he managed to resist the urge of tilting his head behind him to try and look at him. "You just have everything that you need to be successful..."

A pause. Another silence. A halt. Whatever you decide to call and it whatever it may have been, there was a break in the two of them having words. But only for a second. Only just for a single second.

You see, they both had the souls of speakers and listeners as well. And after listening very truly, Justin decided to speak. Equally from the heart as Harry was doing and as both of them did in all walks of their own lives.

"As do you." Justin's words came simply and they came effectively. That time instead of peering continually up towards the seeming never ending of the ceiling and all of the bars and poles and cobwebs that resided up there, a whisking sound could be heard once more as Harry took the initiative to lean back and try and look at the other male. "I think you have a multitude of reasons to fall out of love with what you're doing and yet you don't." Justin's thumbs touched together as his arms hugged over his chest. He was blind to Harry's gaze for just one more time. "How lucky you are too. To use everything you don't need to lead you to everything that you do."

And with that, not another word was uttered between them. They seemingly had each other so figured out from what exactly they said to each other and what exactly they chose not to say. But far more than that, they communicated when they were on stage and speaking of what they did indeed love more than ever.

They saw parts of themselves in each other and so much more. They saw the artists that they wanted to be. And the artists they would become. It's funny that Harry thought that about Justin when he was starting out while Justin thought that about Harry when he was far deeper into it than he was.

But that was exactly it. That was the truth. No matter their position, they were on the same journey. And in that moment, they were very much on the same journey towards each other as well as a handful of other things.

While Harry had previously been getting the inkling to lean back and look at Justin, he stopped doing that before he could have a chance to do the same. And in the moment that they decided to lie still and listen to their own breathing as well as each other's and look towards the ceiling of infinite possibilities for them both, they didn't reach out and make a single touch towards each other. But they might as well have.

Digits didn't make a tentative gesture and become pressed let alone entwined. Arms didn't feel the brush of another arm. And for a good while, lips didn't feel the peck of another pair of lips.

Instead, they felt the next best thing lying on the floor and sharing the shadows of themselves with each other. They felt the touch of a connection that they couldn't deny. And it would be this that navigated them through their relationship with themselves and their art, as well as the creation that was the merging of the two of them.

The End.

There you go! Thanks so much for reading and I hope you enjoyed :) I wonder if anyone can tell who Harry is based on?! It's funny how strong this AU is in both me and Shannon's mind but it has been a bit of a tricky one to translate into a story fit for FF. It's always great fun though and I am sure I will tackle it again in the future because of how developed it is for us! Harry wasn't meant to be aloof but he just happened to be that way when I wrote it and I decided to go along with it. And I think it makes sense. Like he says, he struggles with doing everything himself after having no control for himself at all :3 Thanks again for reading and I will be back again tomorrow actually to update Dear Darlings. See you then!

AmyBieberKetchum signing out :)