Chapter Text
Even loves his job. Lately, however, it’s been a bit much. He’s had a...not so great day.
He’d found out from Yousef that Balloon Squad, aka his best friends, were planning on signing to StarMark. This wouldn’t be such a big deal if they hadn’t promised him, specifically, that they wouldn’t. If it was just their choice, he wouldn’t care, but he’d written more than half their music with them and he didn’t want it part of some corporate money making scheme. Plus, he doesn't want to see them...changed or molded into what a label thinks they should be. They're quirky and new and he doesn't want them to lose that. He shouldn't care about it as much as he does.
Maybe it’s not a big deal, but it’s aggravating anyway. He wouldn’t be so upset if they’d signed anywhere else. Maybe a little disappointed, but not mad.
So while his day’s been fairly awful, it’s really just the culmination of a horrible few weeks.
First, his flight had been delayed from Austin to Seattle, which made him miss his littlest sister’s 7th birthday. He'd specifically booked a red eye to be able to make it back in time, but it didn’t end up leaving until the next morning anyway. By the time he finally got on the plane, he was exhausted but, paradoxically, couldn’t seem to fall asleep. He guessed that his exhaustion, in combination with being trapped in a steel tube with 300 strangers, is what made him catch some god awful virus.
The fact he was practically dead did not, however, stop him from having to take care of all the work he had to do anyway. There were some smaller gigs and interviews, not to mention daily songwriting, but day 4 of the cold from hell was his interview and photoshoot with Hazard, which just happened to be one of the most prestigious music magazines in the world. When he was a kid, he collected every cover of that magazine. It was his dream to be on that cover. Now, he would get to be.
But, instead of getting to enjoy it, he got to suffer through 6 hours of feeling like death with a 102 fever and a voice that barely worked. He made it through the interview between fits of coughs, and he's pretty sure the writer didn't like him very much. His mom had called in the middle and they’d had a short conversation - all on the record - which certainly wasn’t ideal.
The day after, he flew to New York to do press there but ended up having to cancel everything anyway. He was too sick to even get out of bed, let alone do some interview for a blog. So he stayed holed up in his suite, living off of room service and minibar water bottles.
Luckily by the time he was supposed to leave he was feeling marginally better, but on the way to his gate at JFK saw a Rush Magazine advertising an exclusive interview with Sonja, his ex. “Reclusive Even’s ex tells all!” She'd promised him she wouldn't do exactly this sort of thing, but there she was, doing it anyway. The most frustrating part was the fact he’d finally started to get around to being friends again after their break up.
Back in Seattle, he'd gone through the arduous process of hiring a manager/PR person to handle all his appointments, as opposed to his ratty notebook which was currently holding all his press and gig engagements. He'd realized about halfway through his stint at the Plaza that he really couldn't deal with everything all by himself.
His mom had, of course, chastised him for not letting her take care of him when he wasn't feeling well, but he didn't argue. Even though he's 19, almost 20, and has his own apartment (and his own cat - Zimmerman) he knows that his mom still sees him as a little kid, and he can't blame her. He absolutely hates being taken care of, but he makes an exception for his mom.
He got to spend about a week at home before having to head to Osci, and most of that time was spent on strict vocal rest - so his vocal chords could recover from a week and a half of coughing fits - practicing finger picking patterns on his guitar. He'd managed to catch his left hand in the door of a cab, so he had to get it back into playing condition. Not to mention he wasn’t completely over the stupid cold - his immune system is next to nonexistent, and it certainly didn’t help when he was up half the night trying to perfect a picking pattern.
So, overall, it had been an exceptionally shitty few weeks. Of course, he has to be grateful for everything he has at the moment. Fame is fickle, so he's lucky he even has the chance to do what he loves. Also, he's been able to actually handle his family’s financial situation, which has taken a huge weight off his shoulders. So, he shouldn't complain.
But, on his way to Osci, with his hands aching and his phone blowing up with apology texts from Yousef, he’s having trouble.
---
When he’s on stage, everything else disappears. It sounds cliche, he knows that, but the sharp edges of his world blur and the only thing he thinks about is the next breath. He registers emotions and sensations (the cheers of the crowd, The heat of the lights, A glimpse of a face) and releases them. Each moment on stage is a unique moment that he will barely remember but knows he will never live again.
The adrenaline has cut out everything but the essentials, and his fingers glide easily over the fretboard. It’s second nature.
He likes treating the audience like a friend, and even though the staff told him in rehearsal to make his set more concrete - currently, it was a mixture of suggestions from the crowd and a list that only existed in his head - he managed to convince them his method was better. People liked to feel like they were part of the performance, and he likes having something to lean on.
So far, he's played three or four songs and is currently in the middle of Drive, the song he'd written after his break up with Sonja only a week before his album dropped.
“Some songs with the same old beats,” he sings, and one of his fingers catches. He misses a note. He keeps going, but looks out to see if anyone’s noticed. No, but there’s a boy in the middle of the crowd, and when Even sees him he feels his breath catch. He’s like a beam of sunlight. Gorgeous. He’s smiling with his whole face, holding onto his friend’s hand, jumping in time to the music even though it doesn’t make much sense.
After a few moments, he remembers he’s supposed to be focused on the performance. Still, he can’t tear his eyes away.
He keeps playing, imagining it's just him and this boy in the crowd. Just the two of them. Even is singing just to this guy, and they’re home, at his apartment, and they’re on the couch together. There are no amps, no mics, no speakers - just them and that boy’s gorgeous smile.
When he gets to the last chorus, the crowd starts to clap in time, and the blonde boy is no exception. He stretches out the last few chords, just wanting to see the smile for a little while longer.
Fuck, he hasn't felt this kind of attraction in a long time. Maybe ever.
---
As he walks off stage, taking a swig from his water bottle, he sees a figure standing by the side of the stage, by the equipment. The sun has already started to set, and in the half-darkness, it's hard to make out who it is. Probably Elias? Yousef, come to shower him with yet another apology?
When he gets closer he realizes it’s a kid standing in front of him. Even is immediately confused. Does the Osci security realize that fans are in restricted spaces? He's about to try and find one of the security guards - Enrique - when the kid speaks.
“Hi,” he says, and Even suddenly realizes that this is the guy from the crowd. The blonde guy. The lips. The eyes. It's all the same, except now, it's only a few feet away. He looks different in the strange, half shadows cast by the stage.
“Uh, hi?” He replies a bit too late. The guy opens his mouth and starts talking again but Even is having trouble focusing on anything he’s saying. His heart is beating harder than he'd like it to. After a few seconds of zoning out, he finally - actually - recognizes the guy in front of him. Again. Of course. Just his luck. Isak Valtersen.
It’s hard to pinpoint exactly why he dislikes Isak. The boy is seriously attractive, obviously - now that Even knows it’s him, he can’t believe he’d been half obsessed throughout most of the show - and his voice is insane, but Even’s pretty sure it’s the...inauthenticity that irks him. His music is cheap and manufactured and overpriced. His interviews are forced and his “coming out” was pretty transparently a carefully timed ploy to promote his second album . He’s in ads for department stores. He gets his teeth whitened. His little fake laugh in interviews is disgusting, he is exactly the type of person Even wants to avoid. Not to mention he's one of the most successful artists from StarMark.
“Isak Valtersen?” He asks. Isak nods, a little smile forming on his face. “Well, Isak, I’d love to keep talking but I have a strict, anti-asshole policy that I abide by and you’re just about the biggest asshole I can think of, so, respectfully, fuck yourself.” Too harsh? Maybe. But Even hasn’t exactly had the chance to let out all the frustration that’s been building up over the past few weeks and it all seems to be pouring out now. Isak looks shell shocked. He stutters for a moment before speaking.
“That’s a pretty rude fucking thing to say,” he shoots back, his face starting to go red. “You don’t know me. Why am I an asshole?”
“Your music. Your personality,” Even states matter-of-factly. He doesn't like to make a habit of being mean or dismissive but shit, if this kid wants to go at it Even will gladly oblige. He has more than enough aggravation.
“You don’t exactly have the best personality yourself. It’s...pretentious garbage. You act like you don't care about anything and it's childish.” Isak makes a face as if even being in the same room as Even pains him.
“Really great meeting you,” Even finishes with a tight smile, and walks past the younger boy without another word.
“Fuck you!” Isak shouts after him, and it makes Even laugh.
“No thanks babe!” he shouts back, not even bothering to look over his shoulder.
---
It isn't long before he bumps into Yousef and Elias. Yousef is holding what looks like an excessive quantity of Korean tacos, and Elias is trying to eat a cup of bright orange soup with only one free hand. They must’ve gone to one of the food trucks.
“Boys!” Even shouts when he sees them. “What's up?”
“This is the fucking shit man! We’re playing shows with more than 100 people,” Elias says bringing Even into a brief hug, nearly spilling the soup over the back of Evens t-shirt.
He grabs the bag of equipment in Elias’s other hand, and he gives him a grateful smile, taking a generous spoonful of the neon...sludge? Even isn't quite sure.
“Bro! You’ll never guess who came to our show!” Yousef says, handing Even one of the tacos. He takes a bite, not really registering the flavor - he's so hungry he'll eat anything at this point. “That’s beef, by the way. You like beef, yeah?”
“Yeah. Who?” he asks through a mouthful.
“Isak Fucking Valtersen. And Jonas Vasquez. And they came and talked to us and everything. It was fucking surreal man.”
“Dude.” Even says shortly, raising his eyebrows, and Yousef frowns.
“What?” Yousef asks.
“Isak Valtersen is a...” He can’t quite find the right word. “A shitbag.” Yousef rolls his eyes.
“Ok, that may or may not be true, but either way he's...he's signed to StarMark. We’re gonna be working with him,” he says slowly, and Even sighs.
“He's the worst of the industry condensed into one person,” he replies, though not with much enthusiasm. They've heard his thoughts on the corporate music scene countless times.
“Why are you so fixated?” Elias asks.
“I'm not fixated, I couldn't care less about him,” Even shoots back and Elias shrugs.
“It makes no sense. He was really nice to us. He was also straight up gushing about everyone. Even you dude,” he says, and takes another spoonful of what Even assumes is carrot...something. Some of it spills and leaves a bright orange blotch on his t-shirt. “Fuck!”
“Look, I don’t care what he said about me,” Even says, and this time Elias doesn't contradict him. “If you guys like him, whatever. And you're signing with StarMark...that's chill, I'll always support you.” Elias frowns slightly but doesn't argue.
“What are the rest of your plans for Osci? Want to go get hammered with the boys?” Yousef asks, and Even shrugs, finishing off the taco.
“Yeah, I guess. You know I’m not drinking though, right?” Yousef nods. “Maybe some other time I can chaperone and record for Snapchat. Where's Mikael?”
“Mikael’s off trying to find Isak,” Elias says after a beat of silence. Even tries to maintain a straight face, but he's sure Elias can tell he's irritated. “They ran into each other backstage. They had a long conversation I guess. I don't know man. You know how he is once he decides he's going to be friends with someone,” Elias finishes, and Even nods. He's not going to stop anyone from making friends with anyone else, but that doesn't mean it isn't a little aggravating. A lot aggravating.
“That's fine. Maybe I'll just head home. I haven't seen Thea in a while. Plus, I still kind of feel like shit from last week,” he says, and Elias scoffs.
“Those are pretty lame excuses but whatever, man. We’ll hang with those girls from BL!SS. They're cute as hell. I think Mutta wants an autograph,” Elias says, and Yousef smiles.
“Yeah, I’m sure they’d die over an up and coming boyband with 100 facebook likes. Say hi to the other boys for me, ok?” Even asks, setting down the gig bag, pulling his sunglasses on. Elias laughs.
“No need to be so cruel. Love you, bro.”
---
Even had forgotten how few of the people who attended Osci fit into his view of what the festival should actually be. He had to (on several occasions) restrain himself from physically pulling brightly colored feather headdresses off of drunken audience members as they were shrieking drunken bullshit. He had settled for a few instances of verbal chewing out and calls to security, but still. He’s letting the less blatant cultural appropriation slide for his own sanity but really, he’s having some trouble.
It's not like it's a surprise, but it still irks him. After calling out someone for a full native American headdress, he needed a break from being the racism police.
Overall though, Osci has been fairly nice. Pretty clean, not too much drug use - some of the other festivals he’s played have been hellholes. He thinks it might come with the notoriety. Osci attracts audiences not just from California and the East coast, but also from all over the world. Large groups of people pour in by the busload to see the main stage during the second weekend, while the first is reserved for less popular acts.
He's been looking into a tour with BL!SS , a girl group that he actually admires for their songwriting. He doesn't hate label artists on principle - how could he? - just a few. The word with BL!SS is that they want at least two fellow headliners (not to mention an assortment of openers). While they do work with his least favorite label, it isn’t a total deal-breaker.
It's rumored that Jonas might join, which would be nice enough. Not as a headliner, but still. Jonas is talented, but a major stoner.
Even’s hoping he’ll snag one of the headliner spots - though he's not in this for the money, money can be a pretty nice thing to have in life, and headlining a tour is a fat paycheck. Of course he'd join as an opener if they asked, but he'd like to actually headline. He doesn't have the resources for his own tour at the moment, and his fans have been begging for one, so it would work out if he could actually join in with BL!SS.
It’s shaping up to be massive. Several buses, actual production companies requesting to work on the tour, a woven in press tour. Everything that Even wants to be able to give the fans that have been there since the beginning when he was barely scraping by and putting out self released songs on SoundCloud every month. Depending on how it goes, it could make or break his next album (at least in terms of mainstream audience recognition). His music and their messages will either be launched into a sphere of broader public consciousness, or fall into indie obscurity. He can’t wait.
He’d started playing music when he was only 5 or 6, and once he got good at the piano, he decided to buy the guitar he saw in the window of the thrift store a few blocks from his house. He taught himself from books borrowed from the library, and after a while got pretty good at that too.
He started practicing classical pieces and auditioned for this music institute in new York when he was 10. By some stroke of luck, he got accepted, and that was where he really started to believe it could be possible to do music for the rest of his life. From there on out he spent every spare moment writing and playing and searching for places that would let him perform.
Now, he’s lucky enough to actually make enough money to eat. A tour would just add to him being able to share what he loves with the people who (almost magically) love to listen to him.
---
He pulls out his phone and tweets.
Playing osci has been one of my dreams since i was a kid.
can’t wait to get back to seattle tho away from the fake shit in cali. everyone knows ur hair isnt naturally like that boi #bottleblonde He was genuinely surprised how many guys in California dyed their hair yet wouldn't admit it. He'd seen a literal street fight between two guys who both thought the other wasn't naturally blonde, but neither would admit it.
A few minutes later, he starts to get an insane amount of replies.
There’s a tweet from Isak.
At least I don’t wear a fucking bandana @EVBN :)
He’s confused for a moment before realizing that Isak must think the tweet is aimed at him. He suppresses an audible groan. Who the fuck does this guy think he is?
get out of my face tinkerbell he types without thinking. There's an immediate response.
Fuck you. Don’t be homophobic.
??? blonde hair ? shitty attitude ? + im bi soooo… #isakhasntseenpeterpan2k17
It’s a book as well. That I’ve read?
wow. he can read. catch up on your disney and get back to me.
Even quickly writes another tweet.
let's get this trending: #isakwatchesdisney2k17 truly tragic :(
There's a quick response from Isak’s account.
Let’s get this trending: #EVBNjamesdeanwannabe2k17 Even almost laughs out loud.
thanks for the promo, love <3
Even smiles, quickly typing a new tweet.
autocorrect. i meant shitbag.
---
At the airport, he sees he has a new text. Sonja.
don’t be so weird on social media. Aggression doesn’t sell albums. Just a tip. <3
He laughs to himself, typing back a message.
1. i wasn’t even talking about that dickweed in the first place, he started it 2. aggression is basically the only thing that sells my albums 3. i don’t need your advice. i’m just fine without you thanks.
Chill. I wasn’t trying to start anything. Are you taking your meds?
sometimes i wonder why we broke up then you ask me shit like this and i remember. fuck you. :)
I’m just worried about you. Don’t swear at me.
you don’t have to be worried about me anymore we’re not dating remember?
He pauses before writing another text.
i can have emotions without being manic.
I know baby I just get worried about you. I know you can get worked up. It's ok. I just wanna make sure you're ok.
not your baby.
lmk when you’re back in seattle. We should get coffee.
we’ll see
Even would love to say no, but some stupid part of him actually wants to preserve this thing with Sonja. They dated for almost 4 years. She knows him maybe better than he knows himself. Can he really give that up? He's not sure.
---
Once he can finally check his phone after take off, he sees a new text from Mikael.
:(
what’s wrong?
:( :( :(
why are you pouting?
:( :( :( :( :( :(
i’m sorry?
>:( You should be, asshole.
what?
Isak is like the coolest person I’ve ever met.
you just met him???
You made him fucking cry. Don’t text me until Wednesday. :) Even suppresses the urge to sigh out loud.
he insulted me? also it is so fucking funny to me that he cried over some bullshit on twitter
you insulted him first. You implied he dyed his hair.
oh my god no i was talking about some asshole i saw on the beach. christ there are a lot of blondes in the world you think he'd be more discerning
well u were mean to him in person too!
Even sighs, leaning back in his seat, closing his eyes. The plane is noisy, but he's so tired he might be able to fall asleep anyway.
You know what? He doesn’t need to listen to all of these people who are telling him that he should apologize or something like that. He owes nothing to the stupid blonde popstar.
His fans don't seem too bothered. He’s doing his own thing with his own music and other people have no right to try and dictate what he does. Just because Mikael is star struck doesn't mean Even has to change his mind about the guy.
Besides, musicians get into fights on twitter all the time. Why should he have to apologize? He's sure he's done too much damage to repair the relationship even if he wanted to - which he doesn't, to be clear. So, it’s useless to even think about it. Yet...here he is. Thinking about it.
He opens Isak’s twitter. There's a screenshot of a paragraph from his notes app.
to straighten things out (no pun intended), I really admired Even’s music for a long time and am really disappointed to find out he's an asshole. I started out the day trying to hunt him down to thank him for all he’s done for me through his music. It didn’t really pan out (obviously). That said, I wouldn't call myself a fan anymore. I won't respect or admire someone with that much prejudice and hatred. To my fans, much love. Even, if you're reading this, consider this my official statement of apathy. I don’t need people like you in my life. Much love <3
Isak saving face and making him look like an asshole. Typical.
Fuck, he's attractive though. Such a waste.