Nobody blames me, baby, if I cry

I've started writing a story that I intend to be mostly inspired by Tegan and Sara's music and, more specifically, their album The Con (which is a perfect album, by the way. Utterly PERFECT. Top ten albums of all time, hands down.) I've only finished the prologue so far, but I'm working my ass off on it and I really like how it's going.

Musically, I've written lyrics to "Masks" and we jammed the music a few times and it sounds amazing. I wrote a simple-but-cool rhythm riff, Justin wrote a sweet lead riff over top of it and that's really all of the concrete work we've done on it, but I'm stoked to see what Taylor and Katie end up finalizing for it. Also, I think Katie should sing it.

Red Crown is pretty much done - we just need to practice more and finish the harmonies and it's totally done.

Anyways, I'm ill and am going to leave you with this short post, but I'll throw the prologue on the end to give you something to read. :) Sleep well, everyone.

I -YOU WOULDN’T LIKE ME

Gabriel Crown did not need to be outside. In fact, Gabriel Crown didn’t even want to be outside – he desperately needed a smoke, though, and he knew he couldn’t smoke in Nathan Clarke’s house, so that was that.

It was late November, and it had just dumped down snow, which is why Gabe didn’t want to be outside; he didn’t hate the snow itself, he just hated the cold. He lit a match on the nearest parking meter and shielded it from the wind with a gloved hand; carefully, as though it meant everything in the world, he brought the match up to the cigarette waiting in his mouth and lit it, relishing that first rush of nicotine in his lungs. He breathed deeply, savouring the noxious fumes, then let the smoke out, utterly satisfied and calmer already.

He could have had a drink to calm him down – after all, there was no shortage of alcohol back in the townhouse – but in his current state of mind, a beer would lead to a drink would lead to a shot would lead to the floor, and he wasn’t in the mood to have a hangover tomorrow – his incredibly severe hangovers were actually the reason he drank as little as he did. Plus, he had to work the next morning, so it all worked out for the best anyways.

He took another long drag of his smoke and rearranged his tuque, looking at the empty street as he did so. Everyone was at home, inside, bundled up or in bed, and so the whole street looked totally abandoned, which was precisely the way Gabe wanted it, tonight. No one in this town drove in this kind of weather, ever – no one was ever prepared for winter, so almost no one had adequate winter tires. Gabe was not one of these people; he always had his winter tires well in advance, ready to be put onto his car at a moment’s notice. That was just the kind of guy that Gabe was.

He heard footsteps crunching in the snow behind him, but he didn’t turn to meet them; he just took another drag and looked down the street, at the city lights across the bay. He liked the bay – it made him feel separate from the world, but in a good, comfortable way. The footsteps reached his side, so he looked to see who it was – to his surprise, Andrew Cartwright was standing next to him, lighting up a cigarette of his own.

“Hey, man. I didn’t know you smoked...?” Gabe said quietly, and his voice echoed through the street, being dragged away by the wind.

“Yeah... yeah, for a while, now. Not all that often, though,” Andrew replied equally quietly, and they left it at that for a moment or two.

Andrew being here made Gabe uncomfortable – he wasn’t really good friends with Andrew, and they’d never really had a heart-to-heart, per se, which is what Gabe figured he was out here to attempt. It wasn’t that Andrew was a bad guy or anything – from what Gabe had heard, it was rather the contrary – but they’d never really gotten to know each other, for whatever reason. A matter of circumstance, Gabe figured, no need to make anything big out of it. Eventually, after a few short puffs on his cigarette, Andrew spoke.

“So... listen, uh... I heard about you and S -”

“Hang on, man,” Gabe interrupted, the paused to puff on his smoke. “It’s still kind of a fresh wound you’re poking at, there. Um... I kind of... would rather not talk about it. Kind of in the mood to avoid the unavoidable, right now, you know?”

“Yeah, no, no, I totally get that. Totally.” The two of them stood in uncomfortable silence for a few moments, smoking and thinking, before Andrew turned back to Gabe. “I just wanted to ask, uh... you guys are for sure finished, right? Because I wouldn’t want to shove myself into your business or anything like that, but it’s been a month or so and I was thinking -”

“Do whatever you want, man. You don’t have to ask my fucking permission and it’s not my business anymore. Just don’t bring it up to me again, alright?” Gabe turned back to the street, irritated – what did this asshole think he was playing at, coming out here? She wasn’t part of Gabe’s world anymore, it wasn’t his choice who she dated. Did Andrew really think he was being a good guy by asking if it was okay?

“Alright, man, alright, just figured I’d ask. No need to be a dick about it, I was just trying to be polite.”

Gabe took a big, long drag on his cigarette, then flicked the butt on the ground, letting the smoke out as he did so.

“Kindly fuck off,” Gabe replied, pulling another cigarette from his coat pocket.

And that was that.