Work Text:
Past
It was after one of their first shows when everything was still new and exhilarating and none of them wanted the night to end just yet, that Phoebe decided to test her luck — with Sirius Black. They got on to a rough start: Sirius wouldn’t spend much time socialising with the band unless it was with James. He preferred to go out clubbing with strangers. Phoebe didn’t mind, except any time she would initiate a friendly conversation she was always met with monosyllabic responses that cut any warming up to him short. But tonight, Phoebe didn’t care. It was their first sold-out show of the tour. The venue had been jam-packed with crazy and eager fans, not another soul could fit inside lest they kick The Marauders out of their own gig. And Phoebe and Sirius had great chemistry on stage. Weirdly enough, they always managed to, thanks to their professionalism. Still, tonight it had been electrifying to be singing beside each other and at times, at each other, under the bright lights of centre stage. So, Phoebe decided to sit next to Sirius at the afterparty because she didn’t care if it would be awkward or futile, it would be an attempt nonetheless and she was feeling optimistic.
Her mouth wasn’t even fully open when Sirius said, “You did great out there, y’know.”
Phoebe blinked a couple of times before responding, “Oh um. Thanks. I was just about to say the same about you.”
“The fans seemed to love it. Your… presence on the stage really livens up the crowd.”
“I-I couldn’t have done it without the rest of you. I mean, they all adore you. You’re the new mysterious rocker guy on the street.”
Sirius let out a bemused grunt and they both fell silent. She was glad she hadn’t said anything that might embarrass her now that they seemed to be making progress.
When a waiter came around with drinks and other familiar substances Phoebe stopped herself halfway from reaching for the tray after she caught sight of Sirius’s abstinence. Perhaps , she could enjoy the highs of their thrilling performance without any assistance for one night — and still have a recollection of the events in the morning.
Sirius’s brows quirked up when she denied the waiter’s offer.
“What?” She slunk back on the couch.
“Since when are you one to pass up a bump?”
Phoebe hoped her cheeks weren’t betraying her internal embarrassment. Was that really how she was perceived? And she thought he never noticed her before now.
“I’m trying something new for a change, actually. I didn’t take it you were one to object to self-improvement.”
“I’ve just never heard of a rock star who doesn’t drink or do other things .”
This time, Phoebe raised her right eyebrow.
Sirius laughed, out loud and clutched his stomach, when he caught sight of her expression.
He clarified, “I guess neither of us has made it — yet. ”
Phoebe hummed in agreement. But an uneasy tension lingered.
“It’s the feeling you get. It’s… warm ,” Phoebe whispered.
“Warm?”
Sirius leaned closer to her. She could smell his cologne and see the stubble growing around his lips. She hadn't noticed how full and pink they were. He looked good . As much as she hated to admit it, she was aware there was definitely a reason why Sirius Black was adored and fangirled over by the majority of their fanbase. Sure, quiet Remus had some people gushing over him and Lily was beautiful behind the keys, but Sirius Black had a certain allure no one else did and Phoebe had fallen for his charms much like the majority of their fanbase.
Snapping from her shameful thoughts, Phoebe cleared her throat. “Like, you take a sip and all the fizzy bubbles dance in your mouth, down your throat and they tickle for a split second. And then it hits your chest and it’s warm and gets your heart going and you feel it radiate to the rest of your body and it feels… nice . So you drink some more. Or hit a bump. Because you don’t want the warmth to leave… I probably sound stupid.”
Phoebe quickly stared at her fumbling fingers, realising she rambled on for too long to retain Sirius’s attention. She was sure he had lost interest in her opinion the second she started talking about her stupid feelings. Her initial optimism had left already.
“No, I get it. If it didn’t make us feel like that, it wouldn’t be so addicting.”
Phoebe added in a hushed tone, “ It shouldn’t , though.”
Something in her decided to look up and meet Sirius’s gaze. Grey eyes that matched the colour of storm clouds. The same clouds she would watch with her mother at home. They would watch the incoming thunderstorms from their veranda and listen to the lightning strike. Sirius didn’t stop looking at Phoebe either, lost in his own stormy thoughts.
After what seemed like ten years, Sirius continued, “It seems that some people don’t realise you can experience that same feeling all on your own, without dope or coke or tequila shots.”
“How so?” Phoebe’s heart was racing, faster than any bit of alcohol would ever make it beat. She was beginning to understand what Sirius meant, but she let him finish.
It was Sirius’s turn to clear his throat, “For instance, at a party, if you’re with the right person you don’t need to take anything for it to be exciting .”
Phoebe nodded, her heart had moved up to her throat and her ears were getting hot.
“You can get that feeling and so much more as long as you find someone to match that… energy .”
“Like us onstage,” Phoebe pointed out, presumably possessed by a much more audacious alter-ego. She hoped her normal ego wouldn’t end up facing the rejection her boldness had caused.
Sirius lowered his voice and got even closer, so close she could feel his breath on her neck. “And us — right now .”
She could tell Sirius was now staring at her lips and she couldn’t help but stare at his. They both continued to look at each other without saying a word. The realisation of what both of them had said was settling between them.
Sirius broke the silence first.
“May I?” He said, already cupping her cheek but still hesitant.
The bubbles had just begun to fizz in her mouth.
“Yeah,” Phoebe breathed out and before she knew it, the bubbles were going down her throat and into her chest and making her feel all warm and nice.
Running in the shadows…
Present
Her palms were sweaty. Her breathing was shallow. She felt like she could throw up behind the curtains right then and there if she wasn't up to perform in three minutes. Three more minutes until she would have to pretend everything was okay between them . She could hear the fans chanting outside, pleading for an encore of their last song.
"Ready guys?" Lily asked.
James spun his drumsticks between his fingers before putting them into his back pocket and saying, “When are we not ready, Evans?”
Remus and Peter gave curt nods while putting their earpieces on.
"Where the heck is Sirius?" their manager, Marlene, shouted from the backstage door.
Even though Marlene knew the answer to the question she still looked desperately around for the band’s missing member.
"Off snogging a groupie as a parting gift, I reckon,” Remus quipped.
That elicited a laugh from the group as they lined up to walk on stage. Luckily for Phoebe, it seemed no one could tell a nervous laugh from a normal one.
The lights went out, their cue to take their positions at the front. This was it. Three minutes during a show never really felt like three minutes. Most of the time they felt quick like a car crash, but other times those minutes went by in slow motion like when the driver pushes on the brakes and braces for impact, inwardly hoping those pedals worked some sort of miracle. They watch everything frame by frame before the other car comes crashing rapidly.
Phoebe rubbed her hands on her flared jeans. She grabbed the mic and inhaled right when Sirius ran up beside her.
“Every bloody time,” she heard Remus murmur.
Phoebe tried her best not to look at Sirius before she was supposed to. But the moment came too soon when the lights turned back on and James and Peter began playing the opening of their song.
Sirius’s eyes were their usual turbulent grey. The grey of thunderstorm clouds right before lightning strikes. Sirius was a thundercloud, electrifying and wild and mesmerising, and Phoebe had been unavoidably struck by his lightning.
His gravelly voice made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. She never got used to it and he knew that.
Damn your love, damn your lies…
Past
They had performed countless times before but the tension had been boiling for weeks. Petty fights would erupt on the tour bus between them. Phoebe had grown closer to Remus and Sirius began to bring in more boys and girls to their VIP lounge after the shows. One time, Phoebe had found him drinking a shot off someone’s stomach — on her bed.
“You have absolutely no class or regard for others, Black.”
“Never bothered you much when we were fucking, love.” He smiled, wiping some of the liquor off his chin.
“Get her off my fucking bed. Now.”
“Alright alright,” Sirius groaned before pulling the girl up and quickly escorting her to the exit.
He hadn’t done it quickly enough for Phoebe not to hear the groupie snort, “What an uptight bitch.”
In three big steps, Phoebe stopped the girl in her tracks. “What did you just say?”
“I said what an uptight bitch.”
The only thing Phoebe felt then was rage because of course Sirius Black wanted to get a reaction out of her. His messing around on her bed had been no accident.
Before Phoebe could do anything, though, Sirius stepped between them.
“Woah, no need for a catfight.”
The girl gave them a sideways glance as she stepped out. Phoebe cringed knowing what the tabloids would say. She put that thought away in a drawer in her mind. Marlene would deal with it later.
“You enjoy this,” she said.
He smirked. “Me? Never.”
“Why can’t you leave me alone?”
“I can say the same about you. You knew I was the only one inside the bus, everyone else is at the party.”
“I wasn’t stalking you if that’s what you’re implying. You really think all of my thoughts revolve around you?”
Phoebe knew the answer to that. And she hated to admit it wasn’t “no”. He was all she could think about whether it be loving him or wanting to rip his hair out.
“Wake up love, you get jealous when I’m with other people.”
“I’m not. If anyone is, it’s you .”
Sirius’s jaw tightened knowing exactly what she was referring to. He had seen her sitting on Remus’s lap at the party and stormed off. To his luck, it seemed he picked up some fan on his way out.
“It’s your fault we’re in this position.”
“Mine? I’m not Mr. Superiority Complex who shags anything that moves.”
“Trust me, that wasn’t the problem. I’m not the one who gets blackout drunk and high as fuck after our gigs. You couldn’t stay awake more than five minutes without sleeping on me.”
“Maybe if you weren’t afraid of commitment I would have tried harder. You never showed any support. How was I supposed to trust you when you were off snogging groupies an hour before we’d be in bed?”
“That’s what you signed up for the moment you chose to hook up. You never mentioned we were exclusive. It's incredibly naive of you to not realise this is what being part of a rock band is about.”
“Don’t use the rock band excuse, it's bullshit. You can be Freddie bloody Mercury and not be a complete asshole to someone you were allegedly into. And if you didn’t, you shouldn’t have played me like that.”
“What do you want me to do? Build a shrine for you in the bathroom? Better yet, by the liquor cart placed coincidentally close to your bed?”
“Fuck you,” Phoebe spit out.
Both of them were too caught up one-upping each other, they didn’t notice the rest of their bandmates standing by the door with their mouths ajar.
“You lied. You said you would get clean.”
“I probably would have if you practised what you preach.”
“I’m not the addict.”
“It’s awfully convenient of you to use the lifestyle excuse for your pursuits and not for mine or Remus’s or anyone else’s.”
“I wasn’t sleeping with Remus.”
“Are you going to ignore the hundreds of people you did sleep with after you proclaimed you were so enraptured and entranced by me? How was I supposed to react when you would make those declarations of love and then not bat an eye at me when you were too busy flirting with some guy in the front row?”
“I already told you none of them mattered!”
“You can say a bunch of crap and whisper a bunch of pretty little things in my ear but you didn’t show it. And you clearly aren’t showing it now,” Phoebe huffed. She could tell her ears were hot and her cheeks were red.
In a moment of silent glares, James snickered, “Someone needs to write a song about this.”
Sirius and Phoebe both stared at James and then the rest of the band that had been unsubtly eavesdropping on their argument. Suddenly, they both stormed out in opposite directions. Phoebe went to the bathroom and Sirius went outside for some fresh air.
Once the night was over, though, Phoebe began to jot down ideas and phrases. Her rage and her indignation and her shame and her hurt were put on paper. She was oblivious to Sirius writing his own feelings after each show, on their way to the next stop, and during any lunch breaks.
And if you don’t love me now…
Present
Phoebe was hot and mad. Sweat made her hair stick to the back of her neck. She was getting out of breath. Her knuckles were white from strangling the microphone. She wanted to hate Sirius so much. But it was hard when he looked at her the same way she looked at him. Like neither of them was over what happened.
If it weren’t for the frantic fans screaming out the lyrics and shrieking every time Sirius and Phoebe looked at each other, Phoebe could cry. They had messed up and now she had to sing about it to the rest of the world. As if everyone didn’t already know what had gone on between the two lead singers of one of the most popular rock bands.
You will never love me again, I can still hear you saying you would never break the chain…
Phoebe zoned out during the rest of the song. Her heart had made space for him and now it was left wounded but still beating for two. Once the show was over she went to the bathroom, staring at her reflection and sobbing. She took out an orange bottle she hid in the pocket of her jacket. If it could numb all the disillusionment and hurt, she didn’t think it would be so bad. She was trying to open the lid with her sweaty, mascara-stained hands when someone opened the door.
“My bad. Door wasn’t locked.”
Phoebe’s face grew pale. Of course, it had to be him . She stayed silent.
“Why are you cry— ”
And then he saw it, “Phoebe, you shouldn’t be doing that.”
“Don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“You don’t get to tell me what to do.”
“Stop.” Sirius snatched the pills and bottle from her hands. She could smell his stupid cologne.
"Why do you care so much? Just let me be. Go find the ‘ right person’ to fuck.”
“You know the answer to that,” he whispered, scrunching the bridge of his nose.
A blush crept its way toward Phoebe’s cheeks.
She admitted, in a low tone, “I can’t.”
“You can.” Sirius brushed his hand on her arm. She didn’t want him to stop. But then again, Sirius had chosen to stop a while ago.
Phoebe took a step back and hit the wall.
“Even if I did, it’d be of no use.”
“Phoebe— ”
“No, don’t Phoebe me. You’re not my parent. You don’t tell me what to do,” she repeated. Her voice had cracked.
“Phoebe, I’m sorry .”
“No.”
“I’m sorry for messing up.”
“Stop.” Tears were streaming down her face again. She could feel the saltiness on her lips.
“Hey, look at me.”
He lifted her chin and continued, “I’m sorry I ruined the only good thing I've ever had..”
“You hurt me,” she said.
“I know,” he said.”
“It hurts,” she echoed.
He said it again, “I know.”
She was drunk on his smell and his touch and his voice. Even more, when he wrapped her in a tight embrace. Like the hugs her mother would give her when the thunder and lightning would get too close. It was warm and nice. She hoped he would never leave again.
Chain keep us together.