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Chapter Text

October 13th, 1985

It's Sunday, and instead of being out with my friends, I'm stuck in my room doing math homework while my parents are out doing fuck all and my brothers are blasting David Bowie at top volume from Brendan's room. The sound of Ziggy Stardust travels throughout the house as I stare at my textbook, head empty. It's impossible to learn in this environment. Once I accept that I won't be able to get anything done today, I push myself away from my desk, grab my walkman and headphones, and plop down onto my messy bed. Grabbing my sketchbook from my bedstand, I prop myself up on my headboard and start to draw. The Clash's best hits fill my ears as I sketch messy scenes of characters and poses. None of them really turn out right, but I keep going. I nod along to the music, lost in the zone of my own head entirely until a ring interrupts my focus. The doorbell.

I sling my headphones around my neck and hop off my bed. It's probably someone here for my parents, I'll have to tell them to come back later, I think as I pad down the stairs. I check my hair in the entryway mirror for a split second before unlocking the door and swinging it open. On the other side of the doorway stands a tall lanky boy with a fluffy brown mullet and gold round glasses. He meets my gaze and I'm caught off guard. Jesus he's cute. "Hi." I blurt out awkwardly.

"Hey, is um, is Conor home?" He says just as awkwardly, his hands in the pockets of his light denim jacket. His voice is low and unbothered, and his accent is prominent.

"Oh, yeah. Come on in, I'll get him for you." I give a small awkward smile and let him inside, before crossing down the hallway and pounding on Brendan's door. "Conor! Someone's here to see you!"

"Be right out!" I hear my brother call out from inside the room, music blasting as loud as ever. I stand there for a second, avoiding looking back at the boy in the entryway. The door opens and my brother crosses past me, making eye contact with the guest. "Oh hey Eamon, what's up?" So that's Eamon. I've listened to numerous rants about Conor's band, but I'd never actually met any of his bandmates. Now I can put a name to a face. A cute face.

"Hey, some of the boys are headed over to Fusco's for some pizza. Wanna join us?" Eamon says, with much more familiarity than his previous tone towards me.
"Sounds great, I'm in." Conor says in that cheery tone of his and pulls his jacket off of the rack. Just before passing the doorway, he turns. "Hey Y/n, when Ma gets home can you tell her there's some school forms she needs to sign on the table?"
"Yeah, no problem." I shoot him a small smile and my eyes flicker to Eamon, who's awkwardly staring at me. When our gazes meet, he adverts his eyes to the floor. Weird. Conor gives me a wave and leaves with his friend. I turn and race back up the stairs.

*******

It's around 9 when Conor gets home. I'm sitting at the foot of his bed, flipping through magazines, and our parents are fighting in the hallways upstairs. He enters his room and notices me with surprise. "Hey."

"Hey. I couldn't get into my room, they're blocking the door." I say in reference to the fight, explaining my abrupt appearance in his room. He nods in understanding.
"How long has it been going for?" He says, tossing his jacket on the floor beside him before sitting down next to me.

"About half an hour." I hold up a tupperware tin and a plastic fork. "I saved you dinner. It's lasagna again."
"Thanks, you're an angel. I'm starving." He grabs the tin from my hands and hastily opens it. The rancid smell of the unheated leftovers fills the room.
"So what'd you do with your friends?"
"We ate pizza and then rode around for a bit. There's this new arcade that opened up by the harbour, and we went there. It's cool, we should go with Brendan sometime." He says between bites of cold food.

"Sounds fun." I pull my knees up to my chest and look around the room. "So that boy here this morning, that the guitarist, right?"
"Eamon? Yeah, he's really good. He plays a ton of other instruments too. He helps me write all the songs."

"Oh cool." I say, trying not to sound too interested. A void of quiet fills the room as Conor eats and I flip through my magazine. I'm considering cutting it up and pasting it around my sketchbook.

"He was asking about you." Conor says suddenly, breaking the silence.
"Who, Eamon?"
"Uhuh," He nods. "He was like, 'So was that your sister?' And I was like 'Yeah.' And he was like 'How old is she?' And I was like 'We're twins.'"

"Wow, you're a great storyteller. You should be an author." I say sarcastically.
Conor shrugs, ignoring my insult. "It was weird."
"Yeah, that is weird." I say, shrugging back, uninterested. Suddenly I hear a bang from the entryway, signaling that my mom left again like she does every time they fight. "I guess it's over now. Want me to head back to my room?"
"Nah, you can stay if you want."
"Thanks." I nudge him gratefully and stand up before promptly throwing myself on his bed. "I wasn't going to leave anyways." I say teasingly. Conor rolls his eyes and walks over to the other side of the room, grabbing his guitar. "Wanna hear the new song we wrote?"
"Sure. I'd love to."

Chapter Text

October 21st

I often avoid going anywhere near Conor’s school. It's crowded, smelly, and full of awful boys that reek of slurcalling and not nearly enough showers. Still, here I am, waiting outside of the gates of the fabled Synge Street for my brother to be done with school. Classes are done at 3 (which is when I arrived) and yet he still somehow managed to not actually exit the school until 3:37. I spot him with his bandmates walking out the gates, and a look of confusion forms on his face when he sees me. “Y/N? What're you doing here?”

“Hey. I say, exasperated. “Do you wanna head to the harbour with me? Dads on my ass about schoolwork and I really need an excuse not to be at the house right now.” Conor can sense how upset I am, and he looks at his bandmates with concern.

“I would but, I was about to head to band practice.” He says, apologetically. “But, you could come, if you want?” I can see him looking to his bandmates for permission, and they shrug. I look at everyone awkwardly.
“Only if it's okay with everyone, I wouldn't wanna intrude-”
“You wouldn't be intruding,” Eamon speaks up. My eyes shoot to him, and he averts his gaze before looking back at me. “We’ve plenty of room.” He says with a small shrug, not looking at me for too long before averting his gaze again. What is up with this kid?

“Ay, let her come. The more fans the better.” A small boy with freckles and curly ginger hair says, smiling at me. I can see his braces. 

*******

The walk to Eamon's house was eventful. I was introduced to the rest of the band, and Darren handed me a brown card with handwriting that I couldn't quite make out. I met Eamon’s mom too. She looks exactly like him, but with yellow frizzy curls instead of his fluffy brown hair. She gave me a dirty look when she saw me, I'm not exactly sure why. But none the matter.
Now I'm sitting next to Darren in the tiny living room, which is packed to the brim with instruments, watching as everyone sets up their gear. I can't help but stare at Eamon as he rolls his uniform sleeves up and pulls his bright red guitar out of its case. “Have you heard our music before?” Darren says, breaking me out of my trance.

“Yeah, Conor’s played me both of your songs. They're really good.” I say genuinely with a smile, I turn back and look at my brother. “Who knew Conor was a half-decent songwriter?” 

“Yeah, I've subjected her to a lot of band talk recently.” Conor says with a laugh.
“I don't mind. At least it's good music I'm being forced to listen to.”
“The girl has taste!” Conor says jokingly and the rest of the band laughs. Except for Eamon, who's busy tuning his guitar. He does look up at me and smile though. I shoot a small smile back and he goes back to tuning.

The band starts playing their new song “Up” and I sit and listen, tapping my finger on my leg to the beat. I've only heard it played solo on guitar, and it sounds even better with the full band. I watch as Darren struggles to hold up the large video camera he's using to film, and it hurts my soul as he fumbles and almost drops it. I try to ignore that disaster by focusing on how everyone is playing, especially Eamon. Conor was right, he is really good. And there's just something about the way he looks, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows as his hands strum the guitar, his eyebrows raised high in focus, his fluffy hair. He just looks so cool.  The song ends and I clap enthusiastically. “That was really really good you guys. You all sound amazing.” Everyone smiles at me, and Gary even bows, which makes everyone laugh. 

Practice goes on for another half hour before they decide to take a break. We walk out to the shed behind Eamon's house, where I see a rabbit pen. “Oh my god Eamon you have rabbits?” I crouch down to see the bunnies up close.
Eamon smiles proudly as he walks up to the enclosure. “Yeah, I love rabbits.” As the rest of the band walks into the shed to smoke, he crouches down beside me and unlocks the pen. “Wanna hold one?”
“I'd love to,” I say, a wide smile on my face. As he carefully picks up one of the rabbits and places it in my hands, I continue to talk. “I used to have a rabbit, but I had to give her back. My parents couldn't afford to take care of her.” I hold the bunny close to my chest and scratch her head. Eamon's smile grows wide as he talks.

“Yeah, my mom only lets me keep them if I pay for what I need to take care of them.” He reaches over and pets the rabbit as it rests in my arms. “This one’s named Bennie, the darker one is Jet.”
“Elton John reference, nice. You've got good taste.” I look away from Bennie and up at him, and he smiles back at me. 

“Thanks.” We hold eye contact for a second before Darren calls at us from in the shed.
“Eamon, Y/N, get in here! We’re reviewing the video footage!” We swiftly enter the shed to join the boys, all leaning over Darren’s shoulder to review the video he filmed. It's blurry, shaky, and uncentered, and you can't see much.
“Darren, have you actually used a video camera before?” I say, trying not to be rude. “I can give you some tips if you need. I'm pretty good with cameras.”

“You are?” Darren asks, surprised. When I nod, he looks at Conor. “You spanner! Why didn't we ask her to film the music video?”

“Oh, it didn't even cross my mind.” Conor says, contemplatively.  

“I mean I'd be happy to help film stuff if you guys ever need.” 

“Yeah, we do need. Desperately.” Gary says next to me. “Darren's real shite at it.” Darren makes a mock offended face and everyone else laughs. 

“Why don't you do it then?” Darren quips back.

“I can't, im too busy playing bass and carrying the rest of the band.” Everyone laughs at that, and the bantering goes on for a couple more minutes before we head inside and return to practice. I actually really like this group, even if I feel kinda out of place. Maybe I can convince Conor to let me tag along more often.