A/N: Hello. (It's me)
I did not intend to write this. Finals were approaching, but instead of studying organic chemistry, I wrote a few thousand words of what I thought was going to be a quick one shot.
This is not a one shot.
I wrote 10,000 words in one weekend, and it was very intense. It just kept coming, I don't even know. Total, this story took me two weeks. Two weeks to write almost 24,000 words. During finals. Sometimes inspiration is weird and inconvenient. (For comparison, L&F is only about 1,000 words longer, and I think that took me almost a year to write)
This is the first thing I've written in almost eight years that's set post-London Calling that isn't in canon with Happy Birthday. It's different than most of what I usually write, a different take on Jude's character especially, and it's M for a reason, but I like it a lot, and I hope you do too. The story is eight chapters, and I will update on Mondays. (Stay With Me will continue to be updated on Fridays until it is finished)
When Tommy's phone rang, he expected it to be Darius, or maybe Mikala, a girl he'd gone out with several times in the few weeks previous, but when he read the caller's name, his heart seemed to stop for a moment.
He almost didn't answer in time. He felt like the wind had been knocked out of him, and his "hello?" sounded breathless.
"Hi. It's me," Jude's voice answered. "Um… I mean, it's Jude. Hi."
It had been a year. An entire calendar year since he'd last heard that voice, except in the interviews he tried not to let himself watch over and over. And, of course, he listened to her music. He listened to old stuff, stuff they'd made together, but these days he only pulled that out when he was truly in the mood to wallow. And he'd been doing really well, lately, at not wallowing. But last week she'd released a new album, and a few of the songs had already made their way onto the Most Played playlist on his iTunes. Her voice had been in his head constantly for days. He half-wondered for a second if that was why she'd called, if she'd somehow known, somehow felt, that she'd been on his mind, even though that was ridiculous, of course.
"Tommy?" Jude asked, and it snapped him back to reality.
"Yeah. I'm here, sorry…" He sat down hard on the couch, feeling suddenly like his legs might not continue to hold him. He reached for the half-empty tumbler of bourbon he'd been nursing, and downed it in one gulp before saying, "Jude, wow, uh… it's been a while." This was the understatement of the century, he thought. She had broken their engagement, and his heart along with it, from on stage, without any warning, just a kiss on the cheek and then… it was over.
She'd come to his apartment afterwards. He'd been so angry, furious, ready to scream at her, but her big blue eyes had filled with tears at the sight of him and his anger had melted away. He'd let her in and she'd sobbed her apologies, told him over and over that she loved him, she loved him, she'd always love him, but she just couldn't do this, she couldn't marry him, move to London with him, she had to do it alone. She was so sorry, so sorry, she loved him so much, and if he could just try to understand, please try to understand why she had to–
He'd finally cut her off, shushing her gently, pulled her into his arms and kissed her hair. He told her he understood, that it was okay, even though it wasn't, of course it fucking wasn't okay, how could it be okay, how could anything ever be okay again when he'd finally gotten her back, finally seen through the bullshit and the drama and realized that she was all he wanted for the rest of his life, the only one to ever make him feel like he could be loved for all of himself, that he could be whole despite the broken pieces of his past, and now she was leaving, leaving him, flying across the ocean and leaving him alone and and broken and nothing would ever be okay again, but… If this was the last time he'd ever get to see her, he couldn't spend it fighting the inevitable. Because it was inevitable. He'd seen immediately that, despite her tears, despite the fact that she was clearly distraught at the prospect of hurting him, her decision was made. She knew what she wanted, and it wasn't him. Later on he had replayed the conversation over and over and over in his mind, thought of a million things he should've said, a million arguments to make her stay, make her take him with her. He thought of a million questions he should've asked, and a million things he should've screamed at her, too. But instead he'd just kissed her, tried to convey everything he'd never get to say to her now. That he'd never loved anyone the way he loved her. That she'd saved him. That there would never be anyone else.
She'd been the one to deepen the kiss, to climb on top of him, pull his shirt over his head, but he'd been the one to pull her up from the couch and lead her to his bedroom. If it was the last night he'd ever get with her, he'd wanted to do it right. He'd tried to memorize her body, the feel of her, the smell of her hair. He'd tried not to let himself cry, and failed. He'd pushed the desperation back, tried to ignore the emptiness that waited beyond that moment, beyond the feeling of her in his arms. He had thought he'd have a lifetime with her, had been naïve enough to believe that, but suddenly his time had run out. Her eyes had been dry by the time removed the ring from her finger and gently placed it in his palm, kissed him on the forehead and said her last goodbye. Her wounds, he'd thought as she shut his front door behind her for good, were starting to heal already, while she was leaving him flayed.
There had been one last glimpse of her. He'd waited in the crowd outside her house to see her off. She had found him in the crowd, somehow, because of course she'd known he'd be there, and her expression when she met his gaze was sad. He'd given her a small smile, the most he could muster, trying to make her believe it was okay. She'd smiled a little in return and gotten in the limo, and afterwards he couldn't see her through the crowd of fans and reporters.
That had been the end, the last of any kind of contact between them. Until now. He realized that they'd both been silent for a long time. "Jude?" he asked.
"Yes, I'm here. Sorry."
A thought occurred to him and he said, "Isn't it pretty late there?"
She gave a little laugh. "It's just after 2 AM."
He winced a little at the reminder of the song. He cleared his throat and finally asked, "Why did you call, Jude? Why now?"
Her voice was soft, little more than a breath. "Because I can't stop thinking about you." He drew in a sharp breath, and she must have heard it because she said "Not like that, I mean…" He heard her sigh. "Okay, maybe a little bit like that. But it's just… it's… the album."
He hadn't been expecting that. "The album? Your new album?"
"Yeah. Have you… heard any of it?"
The question was so ridiculous he actually let out a laugh. "Of course I have. It's… It's really really fantastic, Jude. I'm proud of you."
"Thank you. That means so much, you have no idea."
"Did you call to ask for my opinion on the album?" he asked, confused.
"No. I mean, yes, but… No." They were silent for another moment longer before she said, quietly "I guess maybe I don't really know why I called. I just wanted to talk? I guess?"
"You just wanted to talk?" he repeated. "Jude, it's been over a year."
"I know," she sighed. "I know, I know. I've wanted to call so many times, but I thought… I didn't really think you'd want to hear from me. After everything."
"Then why now?" he tried to keep his voice even, though a mix of frustration and grief was welling up in him. He'd thought he was past this, over her, at least somewhat. He didn't really think about her that often anymore, his heart had long since stopped leaping every time the phone rang because he expected it to be her. When he heard a song or a joke or a story his first thought was no longer that he should tell her about it. He'd stopped having dreams about her. But first the album, now this call, and it was all rushing back at full force, all the feelings, all the grief. He needed another drink, badly.
It took her a moment to answer. "I finished an album without you. My first album without you."
He took a deep breath and let it out slowly as he poured himself another glass. "Yeah, you did." She'd thanked him, in the liner notes, the final thank you before the obligatory thank you to the fans. She'd written, To Tommy, for everything you taught me. For holding my hand. For letting me go. The words, an echo of what she'd said on stage that final day, had felt like daggers in his stomach when he first read them. But at least she had thanked him. He'd started to worry, in the days leading up to the release, that she wouldn't. That she'd moved on to the point where she wouldn't even think of him when it came to something like her album acknowledgements. Reading the short thank you was painful, but at least he knew it was heartfelt. At least she still cared.
Jude's voice sounded choked when she spoke, like maybe she was starting to cry. "I guess I thought that once it was finished I might be able to let you go."
She was trying to let him go? She'd been the one to leave. "Didn't you do that already?" he asked before he could stop himself, though he tried to keep the bitterness out of his tone.
Jude sighed. After a moment she quietly asked "Do you hate me?"
She definitely sounded like she was crying now, and his anger softened. "No, girl. Of course not."
"Really?"
He laughed a little. "Really. When you left…" He took a deep breath and let it out in a sigh. "Maybe at first I wanted to hate you, a little. But I don't, I never did. I couldn't ever… The thing is that I get it, why you left. I understand. In the end it came down to the one thing I was always trying to make myself forget."
When he didn't continue for a while, Jude softly said, "I don't know what you mean."
"You are very young," he said with another sigh.
"I'm not a child," she protested. It was her old objection, said as fiercely as ever.
"I didn't say you were," he assured her. "But you weren't even 19. I let myself forget that, I forced myself to think it didn't matter. But it did. It does. So I get it. And I know it's what you were trying to tell me, that day. Even before the concert, before–"
"Tommy, I didn't know. I didn't or I would've talked to you first. I would never have done it like that except–"
"I backed you into a corner with the song, telling you that you should go out and tell everyone about us. I know. But I meant earlier than that. We had a fight, do you remember?"
"Yeah, of course."
"That's what did it, right? I asked you what you really wanted?"
"Tommy…"
"It's okay," he reassured her. "I just didn't see it then, even though I should have. When we talked about London, we were having two completely different conversations. We were in different places in our lives, we wanted different things. I should've recognized that. I was just so blinded by…" he cut off, shaking his head, even though she couldn't see. He couldn't finish that sentence. It would be crossing a line, talking about how he'd loved her.
But she knew, of course. "I loved you too, Tommy." The words sent a spike of pain through him, but he took a deep breath and fought it back. She continued "I wanted that, what you wanted, I wanted to be with you, I wanted to… But I just–"
"I know," he cut her off. "You don't have to explain. I never wanted to hold you back, Jude. You deserved the chance to figure it out on your own or whatever. I get it."
"I was just so dependent on you, Tommy, I needed to get away from that, but the last thing I wanted was to hurt you."
Her apologies were starting to frustrate him. This wasn't anything new. It was like their last conversation all over again. "It's been a year, Harrison. I got past it a long time ago. I'm an adult, okay? I can handle a breakup. I haven't been sitting around waiting for another apology." He tried to keep the irritation from his voice, but didn't succeed, and he snapped the last part. "Is that why you called? I can't give you closure on this, Jude. You left me."
"You're right," she said, and her voice sounded choked again. "I'm sorry, I should've just left you alone. It won't happen again."
"Wait," he said quickly. "Jude, wait. Don't hang up. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to get mad, it's just that this isn't stuff I really want to spend a lot of time remembering, you know?"
"I'm sorry," she sighed. "I just… Ever since I finished the album, it's been like…" she trailed off. "Forget it." she said softly. "Forget it, it doesn't matter. I'm sorry."
He spoke softly. "No, tell me."
"I guess… I don't know if you could tell or not, but so much of my album was… about you."
"Oh?" he feigned surprise. He had suspected, of course. He'd listened to her lyrics over and over and wondered if what he thought they meant was accurate, or if it was just wishful thinking that he was still on her mind. He didn't feel like he could trust that he really knew her anymore.
"You really didn't know? You really couldn't tell?"
He was silent for a moment, then admitted "I guess I knew. Listening to the album this week, it's kind of… brought back up some stuff I thought I'd gotten past."
"That's the thing. Those songs were supposed to be my way of working through it all, of letting it go. But I finished it weeks ago and still I… I miss you." Her last few words were a whisper. "I miss you so much."
His heart clenched. "Jude you can't say that."
"I know. I know, I know, but it's been a year and an album and a new country and it's 2 AM and I miss you." She let out a little sob. "Tommy…"
He squeezed his eyes shut, took a big gulp of the bourbon, then said "Tell me about London." He tried to sound as casual as possible, like there wasn't a fist squeezing his heart. "How are you doing?"
"Oh, um…" She seemed surprised, but she sniffled and answered. "London's… good. The music scene here is incredible, for one thing. I've seen so many amazing shows."
"And Bermondsey? They treating you well?"
"Yeah. I have a lot more control over my music than I did at G Major, I guess."
"And you produced this album all on your own?"
"Yeah." She sounded brighter now, he could hear the smile in her voice. "I had a couple of really great engineers too, but the final say was all mine."
"Well, you did a great job. It's incredible, your album. Seriously, girl, you blew me away. I'm so proud of you."
"You know I couldn't have done it without everything you taught me. I owe you a lot." When he was silent for a long moment, his throat starting to feel like it was closing up again, Jude asked, "What about you? How are you?"
"I'm…fine. Uh… producing. G Major. Same stuff."
"Mikala Sterling?" Jude asked quietly.
He sighed. "You've been reading tabloids, I see."
"Not really, but… I may have googled you. A few times." She sounded sheepish. After a pause she asked "Is it serious? You and her? You always did like your super models."
"Jude, don't," he scolded. "Besides, that's really–"
"None of my business, I know. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said anything."
He waited another long moment before saying quietly. "No. It's not serious. Mikala's great, but she's…" she's not you. "Anyway, no. I've never been good at serious. You know that." He couldn't really believe they were having this conversation. He downed the rest of his glass and poured himself another. He wanted to say but what about you? Every time he saw a headline of a tabloid in a store, every time his self control slipped and he googled her, she was apparently rumored to be romantically involved with yet another London musician or actor or producer. But he didn't ask, because he was pretty sure he didn't want to know the answer.
"I'm sorry," she said softly, and he wasn't sure what exactly she was apologizing for. The awkward silence stretched on even longer this time until Jude broke it. "How is work? How's everything at G Major?"
"Uh… The same, I guess. Karma's album is set to be finished in a couple months, so I've been working a lot for that. Milo's is done a month or so after, so the next few months will be kind of intense."
"You're still working with Milo?"
He sighed. "Yeah."
"Fun," Jude said sarcastically.
Tommy gave a short laugh. "Yeah, loads."
"I take it he's still a huge jackass?" He could hear the smile in her voice.
"On a good day he's just intolerable."
"I mean, he's pretty talented, you have to admit that."
"Do I, though?" Tommy asked skeptically, and Jude laughed, full and loud. The sound made his chest ache.
"So Milo and Karma?" she asked. "That's your job now? How have you not gone completely insane?"
"Hey, I handled having you as an artist for years, didn't I?" he teased her.
"Oh, shut up, I was your favorite and you know it," she shot back with another laugh.
He smiled. "You were a pain in the ass, Harrison."
"Okay, fine. But I was worth it."
She was still joking, but he felt another pang of sadness at her words and his smile fell. All he could bring himself to say was a soft "yeah."
Jude either didn't notice his tone, or made a point to ignore it. "But seriously, I'd go crazy with those two."
He cleared his throat and said "Well, I have a couple new artists too. I'm working with a pretty cool band called The New West. Young guys, high school age. They remind me a little of SME, actually, when we first started working with them. Their music's a lot different, but that feel of, you know, raw talent that just needs polishing."
"I guess you're kind of an expert at that." Her tone was light, but knew she was referring to herself, and the knot in his stomach tightened again. When he didn't respond, she said, sounding more serious, "You've been working a lot, huh?"
"Yeah, I guess. The music… it's always there, you know?" It slipped out without him meaning to say it, crossing another line, getting too real with her again. He was starting to feel the effects of the alcohol.
"When it hits you…" Jude quoted quietly.
"You feel no pain," he finished the lyric. "Yeah, something like that."
"Are you happy, Tommy?" she asked tentatively, sounding very sad.
The question caught him off-guard. "I'm fine," he answered quickly.
"That's not what I asked," she said with a sigh.
"I'm fine," he repeated, firmly. "What about you? Are you happy? Did you find what you were looking for?" He felt another twinge of bitterness, but kept it out of his voice.
"Honestly? I don't know. I feel like… ever since I got the offer to move to London everything has been moving at like, warp speed. I thought things would slow down once I got here, got into a routine, but my life here is so crazy. The music is the music, and that's been good, but everything else is just really intense, all the time. The lifestyle, you know?"
"Yeah, I do know. I've been there."
"It's a lot of fun, it really is. The parties, meeting a ton of new people, working on music… And the album is doing so well. They're talking about a world tour… It's what I wanted. I got what I wanted. But it's also… I don't know."
"Lonely?" he suggested softly. He remembered the way he felt at the height of the Boyz Attack fame. Like he was on top of the world, but at the same time so separate from it. Because of his childhood, he'd always been a solitary person, independent to a fault, but the fame had put yet another wall between him and everyone else. Jude had been the first person he'd truly let in past those walls in years and years.
"Maybe. It's more like everything is spinning so fast all the time that I can't figure out how to put down any kind of roots. I have no foundation anymore. This is great, for now, for the most part. But sometimes when everything is quiet, when it's 2 AM and I can't sleep, I just think about how I can't do this forever. When I left I didn't want an anchor. I didn't want anything holding me back, holding me down. I didn't want to be normal or stay grounded or any of that anymore." He tried to ignore the daggers in his chest, tried to pretend she wasn't referring specifically to him, practically quoting the things he'd said to her when he proposed. His throat tightened anyway as Jude continued. "I still don't. This is what I wanted, what I want. It is. I am happy. But it's exhausting, living the rock star life, never having roots. I'm not sure I can do it forever. Sometimes I wish…" her voice sounded tight, and she cleared her throat. "I wish I had something to come home to. Someone." She added the last word in a whisper. "It's not what I wanted, and it's not like I'm ready to settle down, but sometimes I wish… I don't know."
They were silent for a long time, until he said, softly, "I'm not waiting for you."
"I would never ask you to."
He took a deep breath and let it out in a long sigh. "Jude…" He shut his eyes and whispered, "I think part of me is waiting for you."
He heard her start to cry again. When she spoke, her voice was a whisper too. "I still love you."
The words sent a jolt through him, followed by a hollow ache. "You're still too young, you're still in London, we still want different things. You still left me." You still broke my heart, he thought but didn't say, and now you're doing it all over again.
They fell silent again, for what seemed like an eternity, until Jude said "Where does this leave us?"
"Exactly where we were before. Nothing has changed." He said it with a conviction he didn't really feel.
"I miss you," she said with a little sob. "That's selfish, I know, but I–"
"Then tell me you want me there," he cut her off. "Tell me you want to be with me, tell me to come to London and I can be on the next flight out of here." Her silence was the answer he expected. "I thought so."
"It's not that I don't want that," she insisted with another sob. "Please don't misunderstand me, I–"
"Nothing has changed," he said again, firmly.
He heard her take a shaky breath. "I really shouldn't have called, right?"
"It's okay," he said, more gently, after a long pause. He found with some surprise that he meant it, despite all the old wounds the conversation had reopened. "It was… good to hear your voice again."
"I never wanted to hurt you."
"Please stop saying that." He sighed. "I don't want you to apologize anymore, okay? Our timing was always shit. It's not your fault."
Suddenly she said "I think there's going to be a tour."
The subject change was abrupt and it caught him off-guard. "Um… okay."
"It's not a sure thing, it'll depend on the album, if it keeps doing well over the next few weeks, but they're talking world tour. Big. Huge, actually."
"That's great. Uh, congratulations."
"Well, it means that I'll come to Toronto."
"Ah," he said, understanding.
"If I do… Can I see you? Will you come to a show? Come backstage, maybe? Maybe we could hang out? I want to see you. If that would be too much, I understand, but it would mean a lot."
It would be too much, he thought, almost definitely. Even just seeing her perform again would be intense, and being in the same room as her again… The aftermath of this phone call was going to hurt like hell as it was. But he said "Of course. I wouldn't miss the chance to see you perform, you know that."
"Can I call you again, some time?"
He took a deep breath and let it out in a sigh. "I don't think that would be a good idea."
"Oh." Her voice was small.
"Look, Jude, I understand why you left, and I'm not angry, but I just can't let you back in again. It…" he sighed, and said softly, "it hurts, okay? I wish we could be friends, I really do, but I can't, alright?"
"I understand. I'm sorry."
"Take care of yourself, okay?"
She snapped, "I'm fine, Tommy, I'm a big girl."
He had been planning to say something about the lifestyle, how it could be toxic, that he'd been there and he just wanted to warn her to be careful. But clearly she didn't want to hear it, and it wasn't his place to give her advice anymore, so he just sighed again and said, "Fine. Bye Jude."
"Tommy–" she started to say something, but he'd already hung up.