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Gwen hops in late again, (again, again) and Mary Jane can feel nerves fraying beneath her skin. “Am I doing something to hurt you?”
Gwen whirls around, narrowly missing her cymbals (which still quiver at the movement.) “Huh?”
Mary Jane's knuckles go white on the mic stand. “Just. Count us in. I’m not going back to busking because you busted your goddamn alarm clock.”
Gwen shrugs off her hoodie and slides into her stool, frowning. “Way to be a bitch, MJ.”
(This is everything , though, this is dreams manifested between her fingers but always teasing at flitting away. Not something she's willing to lose.)
“Someone has to be, if we're going to matter.” She spins on her heel and meets Gwen’s tired eyes. “Tell me you want this. Tell me I’m not relying on someone who's gonna keep letting me down.”
Glory and Betty are mercifully quiet ducked together in the corner, though all it does is make her feel volatile and small. She balls her fists at her sides and steps toward Gwen, fighting tears.
Gwen looks up through her bangs, reaching forward so she can hold Mary Jane's wrist, teasing her fingers from the fist. Gwen turns her hand over drawing a finger down her palm, touching tips along each callous. “I want this.”
Mary Jane ignores the way her neck sweats and the hairs of her arms stand at Gwen’s touch. “Okay then”, she eases her hand away, reaching for her guitar. “Now make me believe you.”