Work Text:
When Bobby goes out to the studio the first time after he lost his boys, It's been almost a year. He didn't have the heart to go in there since he lost them. He hasn't been able to work on music in over a year, every time he tried he felt like it was wrong. Like he was betraying everything he and the boys had together.
He thought about just using their already written songs to honor their legacy - since he was never quite the lyricist Luke was anyway. He took a deep breath as he set foot in the studio, opening his eyes and looking around.
All he could see in the studio were signs of his boys. Papers with various lyrics scattered across the table, a few on the floor. Hoodies, Flannel, and a few Beanies strewn about on the couch. He gave a sigh that turned into a soft chuckle. His boys were always messy. He can't say he's surprised. He never realized just how fond he was of their carefree attitudes until this moment.
His gaze shifted around the room and rested on Alex's coffee cup, still sitting on the table with a lipstick stain on the side. Bobby can't help the small smile that came to his face.
"I'm just trying something new." Alex sputtered awkwardly. Luke snickered, which earned him a glare from their rhythm guitarist.
" Well I think it looks great, 'Lex. That's definitely your colour." Reggie beamed, and Bobby couldn't help rolling his eyes.
" You think?" Alex asked, absently touching his lips. "I don't know how I feel about it... Maybe next time I'll just paint my nails. It's a little less, you know, in your face... but it still gets the point across."
"Do what makes you happy, Lexi," Luke said with a grin, flopping down beside him on the couch and pulling him into a side hug.
Alex smiled fondly as Reggie crawled across the arm to sit on Alex's other side. He looked between them, then to Bobby who gave a smile and a thumbs up.
"Yeah, I think next time I'll try nail polish."
...he never got the chance.
Bobby felt the weight in his chest grow then, and he turned away with a shaky breath. His gaze goes towards the loft, and he sees Luke's bag sitting at the side of the ladder, His eyes roll again as he walks over to put some of the spilled clothes back into it, when he notices sitting on top of the bag was Luke's favourite Zeppelin shirt.
The one Luke wore when he ran away from home, and first showed up at Bobby's studio. He shook his head. Their studio.
"I mean, it is OUR studio, so I figured it wouldn't be a big deal, ya know?" Luke defended himself as Bobby walked in with a frown on his face. He could tell Luke was still on edge, immediately getting defensive when Bobby approached him.
"Of course it's not, Luke. You know you boys are always welcome to come and stay here if you need to get away." He sat beside Luke, who had plopped himself back down on the couch, a blanket wrapped around his lower half, and his arms crossed.
"Do you... wanna talk about it?" Bobby offered a bit awkwardly. He was never really good at the emotional stuff. He left that to Alex, or relied on Reggie to cheer them up.
Luke just hummed, leaning his head to rest on Bobby's shoulder. "I might be staying here for a while... if that's okay?" he says, his voice sounding heavy, and he could see unshed tears in the lead guitarist's eyes. Bobby wrapped his arm around Luke protectively.
"Of course it is." he assures him. He waits for a few more minutes to see if Luke plans to elaborate. When he doesn't, Bobby doesn't push him. Just lets him lay there on his shoulder and holds him close until Luke's breath evens out.
Bobby's hand ran along the hem of the shirt as he recalls how Luke promised him he'd start looking for his own place after the Orpheum, despite Bobby's assurance his presence wasn't a burden...
...he never got the chance.
Once he finished shoving Luke's clothes back in the bag, with only a few tears falling on the fabric, he got back up and turned towards their instruments. A layer of dust covering the drumset, the bass and guitars sitting long forgotten in the corner.
He chuckles as he finally notices it. Reggie's banjo sitting on the table in the back behind their instruments. He gives a reminiscent smile as he walks over to it. His thoughts drifting to the last of his bandmates.
Reggie, poor sweet Reggie who was always there for him, for each of them in his own way. He completed them.
He walked over and ran his hand along his boy's banjo. A choked sob in his throat. He always teased that one day they'd get to their country album and he'd pull out his banjo...
"I'm telling you! By the time our third album hits platinum there will be a huge market for a Sunset Curve Country Album - and I'll be ready! I don't know about you guys though." he teases, pointedly looking to Luke, who lets out a groan.
"It's not happening, Reg. I'm NOT making a country album..." Reggie gives an undignified whine and Luke pinches the bridge of his nose while Bobby chuckles, knowing he'd give in for Reggie. They all would. It was Reggie, how could they not.
Alex walks over and pats Luke on the shoulder. "Just give it up and start looking for a cowboy hate, Luke. You know it's going to happen." and if Bobby can still hear Luke's little whine as Reggie giggled, then that was between him and his boys.
"Trust me. I bet our country album will have some of our biggest hits, and everyone will be like 'Wow! That Bassist can really rock a banjo! And their lead looks good in those cowboy boots.'
Alex snorts and Bobby raises a brow at him, Luke glaring.
"Don't think I forgot about you 'Lex, you'll be wicked on the Washboard!"
"The WHAT-?"
They all broke into a fit after that, not even giving Reggie a hard time when he pulled out his banjo and strummed a few country songs for them. Still going on about how he can't wait to play the Banjo in one of their songs.
...he never got the chance.
Here, in their safe place. Surrounded by the memories and love that still permeated there, was the first time Bobby felt inspired since. Thanks to his boys. He felt their loss deeply - like he knew he would when he set foot in the studio, but he didn't expect it to be so Melancholic. He took one last look around the room, then went back to the bag of clothes by the ladder.
He grabbed Luke's shirt and pulled it close, then walked over and grabbed Reggie's banjo. He strummed a few chords and rolled his eyes, he settled for his bandmates bass instead, then after sitting back down had a second thought.
He got back up, rinsing Alex's mug - but making sure to keep away from the lipstick stain on it, and filled it with a bit of water. After all, his voice was pretty hoarse without singing for a full year. He strummed absentmindedly on Reggie's bass as lyrics began coming to him.
He looked over everything he grabbed one last time, then pulled out his songbook for the first time in a year. He began furiously writing, crossing things out. Editing. His brow furrowed as if he was trying to solve some complicated puzzle.
A few curses, and even more tears later. He had the beginnings of his first song since he lost his boys. He gave a satisfied hum, but his tired eyes made the pages begin to look blurry. He wiped at them furiously, but they just felt so heavy. He underlined one particular line - Ghost of You - thinking it would make a great title, when he finally succumbed to his exhaustion.
He doesn't really remember falling asleep, but when he wakes up the next morning he's surprised to see he actually finished the song. His eyebrows crease together as he tries to remember, thinking he had only gotten about half of it fleshed out, but there it was.
Completed.
He felt a bit perplexed by this, but he couldn't deny that it was perfect. He just wished he could play it for his boys...
...but he never got the chance.