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Rose can tell herself that she'll stop as many times as she wants.
That this time, she won't give in.
That this time, she'll see their brown eyes in the crowd and look away with ease, without her heart skipping a beat, without it hurting, without wanting nothing more than to just kiss Ziggs stupid.
'Cause they can't give her what she wants, anyway. But when rough hands are clumsily clawing at her fishnet tights and she's gripping their short, brown hair while Ziggy is working their magic; their stupid, hazy, addictive magic...Rose is fine with settling.
She knows that she needs more. More than a quick fuck in a dingy backroom after a show, more than getting high together and making out, more than a discount on Hatchetfield's best weed (even though she's, like, super grateful for the discount). More than—
"Hey, princess."
God.
Ziggs closes the door to a backroom of the venue Needy Beast just finished their gig at behind them. Rose looks up from the table she's sitting at, waiting for Trash and Courtney to get back with the promised pizza. Skud is probably already high off his mind somewhere. Rose is just tired.
They're in that tie-dye shirt again, and black skinny jeans. Same grin on their face as always. Rose wishes her type wasn't complete fucking losers.
"Don't call me that."
"Liked it last time."
"You can call me princess after treating me like one."
Ziggs chuckles and nods their head: "Alright, I like where this is going."
"Not like that, asshole. Like...take me out on a date."
The d-word. Ziggs hates it. Rose is slowly starting to as well.
"You know I don't date."
"Yeah, well."
Ziggs lingers. They always do.
"You know how busy I am right now, with college and work."
They take a step towards Rose.
"I just don't have time to date."
Rose takes a deep breath. She's gonna be strong.
"But if I were to date anyone...you know it'd be you. Right, babe?"
...fuck.
Thirty minutes spent with Ziggs. Thirty minutes Rose never wanted to end, thirty minutes that ended far too soon, thirty minutes she'll hate herself for by the end of the night (and for the unforeseeable future, too).
"Fuck," Ziggs breathes when they look outside. Somewhere between Rose pinning them to the poster-covered wall and her riding their face, it must've started to rain.
"Can you give me a ride?"
Rose scoffs. Looks up, takes a deep breath. Reaches into the pocket of her leather jacket. Hands Ziggs something small.
It's a cassette tape.
Scribbled on it with black marker is Needy Beast. Underneath that, smaller, a phone number.
"When you call me, I can give you a ride."
Rose picks up her bag from the ground, then walks to the door. Ziggs furrows their brows and lifts their hands up: "Okay, so can I call you right now?"
But the door has already been slammed shut behind Rose, and Ziggs lets out a sigh.
Emma it is, then.
When Emma rolls up in her truck, Ziggy's already outside, grinning, using their jacket to cover their head.
"Get in, loser," she says. She's in that brown flannel, hair all messy. Probably fell asleep on the couch again.
"Thanks, boss."
"Last time I do this."
"Love ya, too, boss," Ziggs mumbles, letting their head fall against the car window, eyes following the raindrops that thump rhythmically against the glass.
Emma huffs out a laugh and shakes her head.
"Long day tomorrow."
"Hm? Yeah."
"How was the show?"
"Good. Cool."
There's a pause. In the corner of their eye, Ziggs sees Emma start to smirk.
"Did you see that hot guitarist again?"
Ziggs puts the cassette tape in.