( eli ) we stitch these wounds,*

[trin3]

The blonde named Scarlett Hargrove hated Scotland. It was cold, and rainy, and wet. So bloody wet. How glad she was to be going back to America soon. Or, at least, that was if her cousin could hurry the hell up. She sighed as she watched the raindrops trickle down the window of her hotel room before turning to her cousin and making a huffing noise through her nose, causing her cousin to tilt her head at Scar. "Can we leave now?"

[/color] She questioned, irritation tinting in her voice as she said so. They'd been sitting here for at least two hours whilst her cousin chose the outfit she wanted to travel back to America in the plane in. "I'm the stylist, here. I'm supposed to be the one who worries about how she looks."[/color] She joked feebly, leaning across the back of her wooden chair. It was true, too. The two had been up pretty early, and Scarlett had done her hair, her makeup and had got dressed. She was a stylist, it was what she did. Her cousin, however, was not so quick, and was still stuck on the clothing phase. She simply shot Scarlett a cheeky grin before taking off her shirt. Scarlett glared and folded her arms across her chest. They did have three hours until the plane left, so maybe she was just being impatient. Then again, she was going back to America to work on the If You Can't Hang Tour, with Alpha Bravo Charlie. Not one of her favourite bands, but they were pretty decent, she guessed. Truthfully, she'd heard their name tossed about here and there, and she'd listened to them on account of getting to work with them, of course, but that was about it. She was, admittedly, pretty psyched about getting to work there. Especially the tour part of it. Travelling, whether it was around the country or around the globe, had always been a small dream of hers, although few people knew it.

It was half past nine when Scarlett stood, and picked up a pair of shorts and a long shirt for her cousin. She was pleased with the pairing as she slipped flats on, and, finally pleased with her appearance, the two travelled to the airport via taxi. And Scarlett would be lying if she said she didn't have butterflies in her stomach at the thought of touring with the awesome bands that were apart of the If You Can't Hang Tour. To think of the people she'd meet. To think of the people she'd be working for. To think of the places she would go and the tings she would see almost made her head explode with excitement, which would suck, as she'd spent so long on make-up this morning just to make a good first impression. If she was going to be working with these people, she couldn't have them hating her, could she? That just wouldn't do.

They got onto the plane, and took their seats. Scarlett stared out of the window, a slight feeling of fear seizing hold of her as they lifted off. There was always the pessimistic voice in the back of her mind telling her things would all go wrong, and she'd crash and burn. Which was the reason she was actually a little bit afraid to be doing this job. Of course, crash and burn in that sense was metaphorical, whereas this was literal. Ohwell.

The plane landed, and Scarlett flipped her hair over her shoulder as she walked off of the plane. She had to admit, she laughed when she seen the man standing there, her name, Scarlett Faye Hargrove written in a messy scrawl. The managers of the tour really didn't leave the details out, did they? She turned to her cousin with this thought in her mind, and they kissed each other on each cheek before hugging each other tightly. "You have a good time, alright? And get me some signed merch." Scarlett laughed. Trust her cousin to be thinking about that sort of thing, she thought, as she approached the man and verified she was the woman he was looking for. He led her through the terminal, and through the building, allowing her to collect her luggage before leading her to a car. It was black, sleek, and shiny, and Scarlett, once again, couldn't help the delighted giggle that left her mouth as she slid comfortably into the passangers seat. Jesus Christ, this was going to be fun, if all her days were like this.

As they sped along the roads, Scarlett couldn't help her mind wandering again to thinking of the type of people she'd be working for. Sure, she was just a stylist, but that didn't mean people wouldn't want to talk to her, right? People did all sorts of things when they were bored. It seemed so weird how fangirly she was being about the whole thing. She wasn't usually bothered about much. Well, there was one thing, but she preferred not to think about that.

They pulled up outside of a bus park, and Scarlett thanked the man, shook his hand and pulled herself and her luggage from the car before crossing through the park. Colours of all different bands and solo artists blared out at her, and she looked around for the grey colour that was assosiated with Alpha Bravo Charlie. When she finally found it -- after ten minutes of searching -- she rapped on the door lightly before stepping inside, dropping the bags on the floor and closing the door. There was a greeting from a familar voice she'd heard over the phone, and she looked up t-

Her heart was in her throat, her mouth wide open, the blood pounding in her head. She forced her mouth shut and tried to swallow to make her dry mouth at least a little bit less tight. Shit, shit, shit. Why did Eli Evans have to be here at the same time as her?

The manager burbled a welcome to her and she responded quietly, forcing a smile. Her mind was in another place: the past. Back to the time where things were simple and happy, and she was sixteen, and... As much as it pained her to admit it to herself again, dating the very boy in front of her. She was only sixteen when he'd taken her virginity and proceeded to cheat on her, and she tried deperately to hate him. It wasn't like she had a switch she could flick to simply stop liking him. But after thinking about it and avoiding him for long and hard enough, it had come to the point where she cursed his very name. When the manager wasn't looking, she shot him a fierce glare; I hate you. It was supposed to say. She wondered if it showed. Shit shit shit. Why was he here? Why was he here? [/size][/center]

WORDS! not enough
STATUS! complete and fucking short
TAGS! eli&callie.<3
NOTES! oheythere.
INSPIRATION! Panic! At The Disco.
CREDITS! Template By arro @ Caution!
Pic By PIC CREDIT GOES HERE
LYRICS! "If You Can't Live Without Me,
Why Aren't You Dead Yet?" by Mayday Parade

[/size][/blockquote][/blockquote][/blockquote]

[eli]

RUN BECAUSE THEY'RE CHASIN' ME DOWN !

Lectures were the sort of thing that were always a blast from the past, no matter who they came from. Eli had gotten used to tuning them out for the most part a long time ago, which meant that his manager's rant was completely useless. The guitarist might have actually been hearing some of it if he weren't holding the classic edition of Alice in Wonderland in his hands, poring over the pages. The manager was going on and on about how he needed to stop trying to get in the pants of every person who was on this tour, because if he did, he was going to end up with an uncountable amount of diseases. Eli wasn't paying attention -- he'd just reached the part where Alice ran into the Cheshire Cat for the first time. Nevertheless, he nodded on occasion to make it seem like he was actually listening. If he was being honest, he probably already had all of those diseases that his manager was ranting on and on about. He wasn't exactly a nun, and he certainly didn't ask everyone he slept with if they were STD-free. It didn't matter, though. He was young -- there was plenty of time to worry about things that had the potential to kill him later.

He'd always had a feeling that he wouldn't make it to thirty in the first place. The thought scared him. Sometimes he even doubted he'd make it to twenty-eight, and he'd be just another musician to join the infamous twenty-seven club. While he didn't want that, he'd have to stop his lifestyle to prevent it, and that was something he didn't want to do... nor did he even know how to. It was the way he'd lived for years, and he barely knew any other way. This was just the way things went for him. The people he was close to knew that, and they accepted him, but Alpha Bravo Charlie's manager was one of those obnoxious people that seemed to be convinced that, with enough encouragement, he could fix Eli. It didn't make sense to the guitarist. Why fix something that wasn't broken? He functioned just fine. He was a damn good guitar player and he wrote lyrics that people still couldn't decode. He tolerated photo shoots and fans, and he was getting a little better about when people touched him. That wasn't to say that it was fixed completely, but he didn't feel like he was going to faint and crumble into thousands of pieces every time someone laid a hand on him, which was probably progress, no matter how small an amount of progress it was. Besides, he doubted that he'd ever stop feeling like that completely. It was just how he was, how he'd been for years, now. There were a lot of things he'd been for years now, if he thought about it. An alcoholic, addicted to crack cocaine, a sex addict, someone who believed in very little, if anything. He would never admit any of those, though -- some of them weren't even true. Right?

Except for a believer. He knew he wasn't one of those. He never really had been. His grandmother had been into that kind of thing -- she was the kind of woman who made her family pray before every meal. Even during those times, Eli had just clasped his hands together and looked like he was thinking the same saintly thoughts as his mother, his grandmother, and his grandfather, even though he was just thinking about how much he'd like to eat the food in front of him. He had never been able to bring himself to believe there was some ultimate being up there controlling everything that happened in the world. If there was, he was kind of a sick bastard, Eli had decided. What kind of god let an eight-year-old get beat up and burned by his father? A shitty one, that's what. So, instead, he chose not to believe. When he was younger, he hadn't really believed in much. Not in Santa Claus, not the Easter Bunny, not the Tooth Fairy, none of that. He'd heard his classmates excitedly talking about them, but he mostly kept to himself for those conversations. That was how a lot of his elementary years went, with him being the weird kid in the corner and not participating in the conversations about mythical beings. As a matter of fact, he was the same weird kid that hardly ever talked -- sometimes not even when he was called on. Once, he'd managed to offend one of his teachers when he didn't answer her question, just simply stared at her and waited for her to pick a different child. A lot of his teachers before had gotten the point and called on someone else, but that teacher -- his fifth grade teacher -- had ended up calling his mom about her son's odd behavior. When they asked him about it, he'd just shrugged, said that he didn't like talking, and then remained quiet for the rest of the meeting. Eli supposed he had just never been a normal child.

He had a rude awakening, however, when he realized that his manager was snapping his fingers in front of his face, causing him to jerk his head back and smack it against the wall of the bus that the couch was positioned against. Eli hissed a few curse words under his breath and looked at Alpha Bravo Charlie's manager through narrowed eyes. "What? I'm listening," he said irritably. The manager nodded and began to go on about how he'd have to give their new crew member a tour of the town -- he was from Massachusetts, anyways, right? -- to make up for what he'd done. Eli sat there with his mouth hanging open just a little bit. He had to be kidding. So he'd tried to fuck Injected Hopeless' manager, who had been a little creeped out, complained to Alpha Bravo Charlie's manager to "keep his dog on a shorter leash" (which was just offensive), and now, because of it, because he'd made a mistake, he was the official tour giver? He got that he was supposedly the wrongdoer in this scenario, but the rest of the band knew Massachusetts just as well as he did, and they were more social, better with people. There was a reason Eli was quiet and kept to himself. He didn't like to talk. He hated serious conversations. He preferred silence to the chatter of a crowd. Sure, he had the occasion where he liked crowds, but that was normally only when he was on stage with his fellow bandmates, and the crowd was cheering for them. He liked crowds then. Otherwise, he preferred to be alone. "No. I have things to do, I'm not doing it," refused Eli.

Apparently he didn't have a choice, because about ten minutes later, Alice in Wonderland was sitting on the table in front of the couch and Eli was standing in the middle of the main room with his manager's hand firmly on his shoulder. He'd already tried to run once, but apparently Alpha Bravo Charlie's manager was determined to keep their guitarist in place... and to get him to smile, as was signified by the way he kept hissing at the boy to "smile or I'll hurt you", to which Eli only informed him that he was already killing him and he'd like to see him do worse than he already was. Eventually, his manager just gave in and focused on keeping the annoyed guitarist around. After a too-long wait, the door began to open -- and Eli froze, no longer needing the hand on his shoulder to keep him in place. He couldn't make sense of the thoughts running through his mind, and it was in a daze that the manager let go and moved forwards the greet the blonde now standing in their bus. She couldn't be here, though. What had their manager said she was going to be doing? Eli couldn't remember, and, in that moment, it didn't wholly matter. Scarlett Scarlett Scarlett Scarlett Scarlett Scarlett was the extent of his mind's thought process. There were too many things that he could think of: long nights sitting around with his arm around her as they listened to old music and talked shit about the president, talked about music, talked about their friends, talked about the pros and cons of boarding school, other completely pointless things, because it didn't matter what they talked about; it just mattered that they were together, that they didn't just touch, they didn't have a purely physical relationship. Eli missed those days... not that he would admit it. Not right here, not right now.

Her smile looked forced. He couldn't blame her. It wasn't as if their last chat had left them on good terms. They hadn't seen each other in years, not after the blowout that had occurred after she'd found out that Eli had been cheating on her. He didn't even know why he'd done it. It wasn't that she wasn't good enough for him -- honestly, theirs was the best relationship he'd ever had -- it was just that he had no experience with keeping his dick in his pants, and he couldn't just suddenly stop, could he? It was a little ironic that she was here, actually; he'd just been thinking about her the other day. He'd just been missing her the other day. Missing her was pointless, though, and that was proved by the look she shot him when his manager looked away. It clearly said something. It said that she couldn't believe he was here, that she wanted him gone, that she still hadn't forgiven him for what he did all those years ago. Somehow he doubted that the excuse that he was a teenage boy, young and stupid, wasn't going to cut it. Wait. Why did he care if she forgave him in the first place? He didn't care. It wasn't like he was in love with her. He liked her. They'd been close. But... maybe that was reason enough for him to want her forgiveness. Well... whatever. He could think about that later. For now, he was going to have to figure out how to keep the upcoming tour from being the most awkward thing he'd ever participated in. The manager was looking again, introducing the two, beginning to say something about how Eli would be Scarlett's tour guide, but the guitarist cut him off, extending his hand to Scarlett despite his worry that she might try to twist the damn thing out of its socket or something. Part of him said that he should try to smile at her, but he knew if he did, it would probably look like he was trying not to kill something, so he opted for his usual expressionless expression. "Hi, Scar. I'm supposed to be your own personal tour guide for the day." He noted the confused look on his manager's face as he looked between the two of them. Good. Let him wonder. Let him think that this was potentially bad. Maybe he'd bail Eli out of it before it got any worse.

music,, behind the sea by panic! at the disco.
words,, 1,879.
tag you're it,, scarlett/trin! <33
lyrics,, i just wanna run by the downtown fiction.
outfit,, top & bottoms & shoes.
notes,, had lots to ramble about, i guess. o.o