Work Text:
b r o k e n h o m e
When the boys first heard Broken Home, the emotions were fleeting not really hearing what the lyrics were saying, too distracted with catching up on twenty-five years of music and exploring different genres and vibes.
So the second time they heard it, they heard it. Alex, Luke and Reggie were sat in the studio, flicking between albums when the opening notes rung out.
They would yell, they would scream, they were fighting it out. They would hope they would pray, they were waiting it out.
It struck a nerve with Reggie, remembering all the nights he’d be curled up on his windowsill in his room, head between his knees willing, praying, hoping it would stop. The three of them were miserable and his parents were dancing around the word divorce. It was like they got a kick out of fighting, throwing the nearest object at each other, the wall, the floor and hell even Reggie if he got in the way. It was exhausting.
Holding onto a dream whilst they’re watching these walls fall down.
Reggie scoffed to himself, it’s ironic really. What was his dream? The band succeeding was his dream but also his parents finally acknowledging that they need out? Him finally getting his out, packing his bag and running and feeling at peace? Reggie just wanted a safe haven of his own, the boys made him feel safe of course they did, they were his family in every way but blood (despite Luke’s insistence on becoming blood brothers). His own bedroom just made him feel trapped, suffocated and alone. He found no comfort in a place that should have been strictly his own.
Sharp words like knives, they were cutting them down. Shattered glass like the past it’s a memory now.
Alex. Alex was taken right back to the moment he blurted out he was gay. That night he had had enough. School was ramming up the pressure with exams nearing, the band was practicing relentlessly and then his parents were on his back about brining home a nice girl and he, quite simply, snapped. The silence that followed was deafening. His mother’s fork clattered against the porcelain plate and she looked at him like he was a stranger. Alex’s dad, well, he’d never seen his father look so angry. The grip on his glass of whisky tight, the whites of his knuckles a stark contrast against his flushed skin. His eyes no longer had a warmth to them, they were stone cold and unfamiliar. The moment broke when his father smashed his glass against the freshly polished table and stood abruptly from his chair sneering at Alex. Now Alex wasn’t delusional, he knew that him coming out wasn’t going to be a fairy tale moment but he would’ve never expected it to be like this. His father cursing him, calling him every slur he knew whilst clutching onto the gold cross hanging from his neck. His mother not moving a muscle but her face was a picture of a thousand words. Her red lined lips agape, blue eyes glistening with tears, and an incredulous expression etched on her features. His father’s fist slammed on the table “Look at me when I’m talking to you Alexander,” a gulp, “there will be no more talk of what happened here tonight, you will finish your dinner, you will help your mother clean up and we will be going to church first thing in the morning.” It’s safe to say, Alex did finish his dinner, he did help his mother but he did not stick around to go to church the next morning.
Holding onto a dream. Whilst they’re watching these walls fall down.
Whilst the chorus rung out, the boys wordlessly gravitated towards one another seeking comfort, touch, familiarity. It’s quite something. They didn’t have it good but listening to this song, right here, in this moment solidified that they were never alone. Never.
Wrote it down on the walls, they were screaming it out.
From the moment Luke could hold a pen he was scribbling on walls – the lounge, the kitchen, the bathroom. Emily wasn’t amused but he was just a child and who could resist those big doe eyes, even then. But as he got older, there’d be notes pinned to the fridge or his bedroom door. There’d be pieces of screwed up paper littered around the house with chord progressions or lyrics. And his bedroom wall was covered in records, lyrics and posters of his favourite artists. Music was streaming through his veins. So this line really hit Luke. His parents regretted buying him that guitar because there was a constant reminder that they could have prevented this. They could have stopped this nonsense. The sheets of paper everywhere with words scribbled on them, the late night strumming when Luke should have definitely been asleep and, ultimately, Luke running away and never coming back. Music was Luke’s reason to live (and the boys), every fibre of his being screamed it he put every ounce of himself into each lyric he wrote, song he sung and chord he played. But Mitch and Emily. They didn’t understand.
Made it clear, they’re still here, are you listening now? Just a ghost in the halls. Feeling empty, they’re vacant now.
Luke felt light he’d just been sucker punched straight in the stomach. Unsaid Emily. When Julie took that to his parents, for the first time, he was heard. He was valid and it was clear. It was laughable really, stood with Julie, pouring every emotion into that song but they couldn’t hear him. Just a ghost in the halls.
All the battles, all the wars, all the times that you’ve fought. They’re the scar, they’re the bruises, they’re the pain that you brought.
Those lyrics echoed in Reggie’s mind. He remembers what his grandma told him before she passed about how his parents were never in a good place and believed that by having Reggie, it would help. So that no, it wasn’t Reggie’s fault that his parents were the way they were. Reggie could count on both hands how many nights through high school his parents either didn’t fight or didn’t know if they fought because he wasn’t home. They’re the scar – Reggie is a constant reminder that having him wasn’t going to fix anything, it wasn’t going to make any anger or resentment fade away. They’re the bruises – temporary but painful to touch and look at. Another synonym for Reggie’s relationship with his parents as he got older. They’re the pain that you brought – the pain of their marriage falling apart at the seams day by day and hoping a child would somehow fix that. Except now Reggie is all of that pain.
There was life, there was love. Like a light and it’s fading out.
When Reggie was younger he was loved differently. His every need was doted on and when his parents fought, he wasn’t around for it, his grandma would swoop in and take him or ice cream or to make sandcastles on the beach. But as he got older, he became more independent. When things got tense, he’d take himself out for ice cream and a walk along the beach. He’d lock himself in his bedroom with his journal and a box full of memories of his time with his grandma. As Reggie got older, the love faded. It was there, but the love wasn’t the same.
Hey mom, hey dad. When did this end? Where did you lose your happiness?
Reggie’s parents were never happy, not truly. Their happiness was lost way before Reggie came along.
Luke’s parents, on the contrary, were happy. They didn’t lose their happiness with one another but, instead, they lost it with Luke and his ‘unambitious and silly little dreams’.
Alex’s parents, they were a little more complex. Were they happy? Perhaps. Where did they lose their happiness, the night Alex came out as gay.
I’m here alone inside of this broken home.
And they were. None of them had siblings that they knew about. When they parted ways after school or band rehearsal they’d be on their own, inside of their broken homes.
Who’s right, who’s wrong. Who really cares? The fault, the blame, the pain’s still there.
In Luke’s mind it was so messed up. He thought about his family and how’d they wanted better for him, better than ‘some rockstar Luke, you know what it’s like the drugs, the drink, who knows what you could get messed up in’. He thought of Reggie’s parents, who fought about anything and everything just because. And he thought of Alex, Alex who never really had a relationship with his parents after that night.
I’m here alone inside of this broken home.
The boys clutched to each other tighter. Tears were falling, sniffles could be heard, and shoulders were shaking. They knew in an instant that any one of them could reach for the remote and just turn it off and stop this entire thing. But none of them wanted to. It was strangely cathartic and almost necessary. All of these emotions were raw and to them it hadn’t been twenty-five years since they went off to Hollywood to chase their dreams, it was mere weeks. They’d never actually spoken properly about these things. There was the fleeting comment or remark but nothing substantial. Nothing like this. Not for a long time.
You’ve gotta let it go, you’re losing all your hope. Nothing left to hold, locked out in the cold. You painted memories then washed out all the scenes. I’m stuck in between a nightmare and lost dreams.
And that was it wasn’t it. They’d been holding onto these toxic and damaging thoughts for years. Alex had to leave behind the fact that he couldn’t hide himself anymore that even though his own parents didn’t accept him, his brothers did. Luke had to just accept his family were never going to realise that this wasn’t just some silly little dream, this was his choice and he thanked Julie every day that she was able to give his parents a piece of that. And Reggie, Reggie had to let go that it wasn’t his fault, that he wasn’t a burden but he was loved and cherished more than he’ll ever know or understand. A nightmare and lost dreams. Maybe at one point their lives felt like a nightmare they could never wake up from and that maybe they were never going to get their ‘big break’. But it was temporary, just like the scars, bruises and pain – it’d fade eventually, and they got their time.
Alex, Luke and Reggie sung the last chorus the best they could with their hoarse and scratchy voices – they poured every emotion they felt into that final chorus. The three of them huddled together on the armchair together. It took a long time for them to realise that home wasn’t a physical place but a feeling. And although their ‘physical home’ was broken. When they were together, that was home and it was far from broken, it was their constant. They could do anything because they were Sunset Curve. Tell your friends.