Post by Mandy on May 18, 2008 18:49:36 GMT -5
Title: Neither Of Us Can See
Author: Mandy
Genre: Angsty fluff
Rating: Probably won't get anything worse than PG-13
Pairings?: Oh, that wouldn't be any fun then, would it?
Disclaimer: I don't own Incubus, the songs, or anything like that, although I do have all the albums and DVDs. Now if only I had my own Brandon Boyd....
Author's Notes: The companion to "Pantomime", from Mandy's point of view. The two plots will link up eventually, I'm just slow and typing It also might help if you have some Incubus knowledge, since I refer to songs and stuff. And, no hate because I used my own name Comments are love!
A/N (specifically for this chapter): The airport is pre-9/11, so security was not as tight.
I hate Hollywood. Not the business, since that’s what I went to school for, but the town. I didn’t when I was younger though. See, I’m originally from Chicago, so when my family moved to Calabasas, California when I was ten, Hollywood was really cool and exciting. But over the years I realized that it was only a tourist trap and I’m not too fond of tourists.
It wasn’t an easy move, but they rarely ever are. I had my friends and a house and a life in Chicago. I was always awkward and seen as the weird girl, so I had a hard time making friends. I guess that’s why I followed him around that first day. I didn’t mean to, but I was sat next to him and he borrowed a pencil. He seemed nice and had a few friends, so I tried to hang around them. Apparently it came off as stalkerish since he told me off a few days later. I guess he felt bad about it though because he asked me to eat lunch with them the next week.
Brandon became my friend and then my best friend within months of moving there. He was everything I ever looked for in a friend and more. Even though I was the only girl around, I was never left out. My parents love him and his loved me. We were always together. This made high school an interesting time, partially because that’s when my parents decided to get a divorce and because neither Brandon nor I were willing to sacrifice the other in order to have a proper boyfriend or girlfriend. We were always accused of cheating, which sucked because we never did anything. I was there when the boys decided to start a band; I was at every show and practice, being their biggest fan. I return, Brandon was sure to make it to every play, musical, and choir concert I had, even going as far as hanging around school until I finished rehearsal to give me rides home. No wonder everyone at school thought we were together.
Truth was, I wanted to be. As soon as the hormones kicked in and the physical differences became apparent, I realized Brandon is a guy. A cute one.
He kept calling me all morning. I knew that he wanted to go surfing, but there was no way you could catch me in a bathing suit right now. Not today. I heard the front door click open and shut; someone bounding up the stairs two at a time, and a knock on my door. I buried my head underneath my pillow. Maybe he would go away.
“Dude, let me in.” I groaned and rolled off my bed, throwing a sweater on in the process. I opened the door, let him in, and sat back on my bed.
“What’s up? Why haven’t you answered the phone? It’s awesome out and the surf is just starting to get good.” I looked him up and down.
“How tall are you?” He shrugged his shoulders and I couldn’t help but notice how much wider they seemed, and his biceps looked bigger. No! This was Brandon I was checking out! What was happening to me?
“I dunno. About 5’ 10” I think. My mom’s going crazy. She says I'm shooting up like a weed,” he said, “Why are you wearing a sweater in the middle of July?” I shifted uncomfortably.
“I don’t feel good.”
“Probably because you’re wearing a sweater when it’s 110 outside. C’mon, take it off and let’s go surfing.” and he started grabbing at it.
“No, Brandon, I don’t want to take off the shirt. Just forget about it,” I moaned. His poking turned into tickling me, which was the worst thing in the world. I squealed and squirmed, trying to move away from him. His hand collided with my reason to stay inside as he accidentally got a handful of my new boobs.
“Oh my God! I’m so sorry…” and he jumped back, horror and embarrassment all over his face. I was so mortified that I had to hold back tears. I knew it was an accident, but they literally grew overnight and I had no idea what to do with them. All I knew is that none of my shirts or training bras fit anymore.
“I’ll give you a call later.” And he quickly exited my room. I let the tears stream and all my frustration out.
We both got over Boob Grab ’90 by that night and all went back to normal, except that I was now officially a girl in his eyes. He didn’t treat me any differently other than a little bit of embarrassed starting whenever I wore a tank top. He never tried anything though, which was both a comfort and an annoyance. So, I started dating. None of my boyfriends were ever serious and through the rest of high school, I wanted him. He couldn’t see me as anything more than a friend. Then Prom happened.
I was so excited that I could not sit still while my hair was being done. He showed up at my house and I saw him though my bedroom window; black tux, hair brushed and tied back, a goofy smile on his face. I fell for him so hard. I couldn’t believe that the hippie next door could clean up so well. I was fairly certain that he even showered. This was a big night. The dance itself sucked, although we did slow dance to a song or three. After, we just hung out on the beach all night, talking about each other, the future, hopes, dreams, and wishes and releasing them to the stars. The next day we went and got our tattoos, binding us together. Graduation and the end of summer brought me leaving to go to USC while Brandon attended art school and focused on Incubus. Either I came back or he came and stayed on campus most weekends, but it was a bit weird. Most of my girl friends at school told me that I needed to get a grip and go on a few dates, since if nothing had happened by now, nothing ever was going to happen. A part of me knew that they were right.
Halfway through college, they got signed and the next year, S.C.I.E.N.C.E. was released. Things started changing. The shows started getting further and further away, and eventually he had to go out on tour. Don’t get me wrong, I was thrilled they were actually getting heard, but it just made arranging time to see each other a bit harder. Towards the end of my senior year, I did some freelance work on a few local shoots and caught the eye of the Promotion department at Epic Music Group and they had me interview. I got the job, which was great, except that I had four months left until I graduated. I told them that I wanted to wait, and by some grace, they accepted. My graduation from college was a big deal. I had a good job and a solid future in front of me.
When Brandon didn’t show up to my graduation, I was crushed. He had made arrangements to make sure that he was going to be in So Cal for it, and then I found out that he slept through it. After I had gone to everything I physically could for him, he missed my last big thing. I eventually forgave him, after he sent me a gallon tub of cookie dough, but it just made me realize that having a life together was going to be harder and harder. For some reason though, I couldn’t give up hope. I was falling in love with him and he wasn’t even here.
I started working for Epic, locating the nearest Starbucks on every shoot, but I really loved actually getting my hands dirty and being out there. The money was not bad either and I was able to move out of my mom’s house by the end of that summer. Brandon came back from touring, they wrote and recorded Make Yourself, and it just seemed like my life was finally getting on track again. Him and I were together constantly, often passing out on each other’s couches. We had finally found a happy medium and were comfortable enough with each other that little bits of affection went without question. I couldn’t tell him how I felt; there was no point. Nothing I said would have made him give up his dreams, not that I would ever ask him to. And why would he ever be interested in me when he had the whole world open to him? No, what we had was fine with me. Sadly, I should have known that it was only temporary.
The day Brandon left was the worst day of my life. I hadn't slept at all the night before so I was already a bit frazzled, but having to go to LAX one last time was too much for me. Our moms picked us up outside of his house and we sat in silence the whole way there, hand in hand. We met the rest of the guys and all got through security, my heart breaking with every step we took towards the gate. When they announced that the flight was boarding, my nightmare had come true. He gave everyone else hugs and said his goodbyes, saving me for last. I couldn't look at him, the tears coming dangerously close to the surface. He gently tilted my chin up and forced me to look into his eyes.
"I'm not dead" and he forced a smile, "I'll call every day, and you can call me. I'll write. I'll wave to you when we're on TV. You'll be with me."
"What am I going to do without you?"
"You don't need me. You never needed me."
"But what if I want you?" His smile returned and he pulled me into a hug. We stood there, neither of us daring to let go, his head resting on mine. I took a deep breath of his ocean and sweat scent and made sure I remembered it.
"I want you too," his deep baritone rumbled through me. I was so close to pulling him down to the floor, never letting him go, forcing him to stay here with me. I grasped the back of his shirt into tiny balls, trying to pull him even closer to me.
"Flight 89 to New York, final boarding..."
"Mandy, I have to go" Hearing him say my name, that was it. My whole body lurched into him with a sob, the tears finally coming out.
"No..."
"Brandon, we got to go…" came Mike's voice
"Mandy, let him go..." came my mom's voice. The two of them peeled us apart but I still held onto his hand.
"I'll be back" and he brought the top of my hand to his lips, placing one last kiss to send him off. I watched as he walked through the gate and waited with his mom and mine until the plane took off and was out of sight.
I was inconsolable. My mom cradled me the entire way back to Dolly's house, me wailing and sobbing like a two year old that was just denied ice cream after she had fallen off her bike and scraped her knee. He was gone. He was actually gone. And no one knew for how long, not even him.
Dolly brought us back to her house and made me a cup of tea. By this time, the tears had dried up and I couldn't cry anymore, just wallow in my sadness. My mom and her had gone out in the garden to compare some plants. I wandered up the stairs and into his old room, which still contained pretty much our entire high school lives. His art was strewn about, bits of journals and papers with random lyrics and thoughts, pictures from first gigs, a comic book or two. I sat down on his bed, looking at the life we used to share. Amongst all the chaos was a small silver frame on his bedside table. I picked it up and ran a finger across the glass, willing the smile from the picture to run across my face. I never knew he had this photo, pure and simple, black and white, me, sitting on the beach, gazing out and blissfully happy. I couldn't even remember when he took this. I had never seen it before.
"Thought I would find you up here" said Dolly from the doorway. She made her way through the room and sat next to me on the bed.
"He's right, you know. He's not dead, so you should stop mourning him." All I could do was nod. She was right, but I just couldn't. My best friend was ripped away from me for God knows how long. Life was scary enough, and now he was gone too.
"Do you love him?" The shock of the question snapped me out of my thoughts. I couldn't say anything.
"You love him." Not a question this time. She knew. I rested my head in my hands and nodded from behind them. She wrapped her arms around me.
"Everything will be alright. Love will find a way.”
Dolly gave me one of his old shirts to have until he came back. I wore it to bed every night without fail and never washed it. Disgusting, I know, but it still smelled like him, and I needed it to get me through.
Author: Mandy
Genre: Angsty fluff
Rating: Probably won't get anything worse than PG-13
Pairings?: Oh, that wouldn't be any fun then, would it?
Disclaimer: I don't own Incubus, the songs, or anything like that, although I do have all the albums and DVDs. Now if only I had my own Brandon Boyd....
Author's Notes: The companion to "Pantomime", from Mandy's point of view. The two plots will link up eventually, I'm just slow and typing It also might help if you have some Incubus knowledge, since I refer to songs and stuff. And, no hate because I used my own name Comments are love!
A/N (specifically for this chapter): The airport is pre-9/11, so security was not as tight.
I hate Hollywood. Not the business, since that’s what I went to school for, but the town. I didn’t when I was younger though. See, I’m originally from Chicago, so when my family moved to Calabasas, California when I was ten, Hollywood was really cool and exciting. But over the years I realized that it was only a tourist trap and I’m not too fond of tourists.
It wasn’t an easy move, but they rarely ever are. I had my friends and a house and a life in Chicago. I was always awkward and seen as the weird girl, so I had a hard time making friends. I guess that’s why I followed him around that first day. I didn’t mean to, but I was sat next to him and he borrowed a pencil. He seemed nice and had a few friends, so I tried to hang around them. Apparently it came off as stalkerish since he told me off a few days later. I guess he felt bad about it though because he asked me to eat lunch with them the next week.
Brandon became my friend and then my best friend within months of moving there. He was everything I ever looked for in a friend and more. Even though I was the only girl around, I was never left out. My parents love him and his loved me. We were always together. This made high school an interesting time, partially because that’s when my parents decided to get a divorce and because neither Brandon nor I were willing to sacrifice the other in order to have a proper boyfriend or girlfriend. We were always accused of cheating, which sucked because we never did anything. I was there when the boys decided to start a band; I was at every show and practice, being their biggest fan. I return, Brandon was sure to make it to every play, musical, and choir concert I had, even going as far as hanging around school until I finished rehearsal to give me rides home. No wonder everyone at school thought we were together.
Truth was, I wanted to be. As soon as the hormones kicked in and the physical differences became apparent, I realized Brandon is a guy. A cute one.
He kept calling me all morning. I knew that he wanted to go surfing, but there was no way you could catch me in a bathing suit right now. Not today. I heard the front door click open and shut; someone bounding up the stairs two at a time, and a knock on my door. I buried my head underneath my pillow. Maybe he would go away.
“Dude, let me in.” I groaned and rolled off my bed, throwing a sweater on in the process. I opened the door, let him in, and sat back on my bed.
“What’s up? Why haven’t you answered the phone? It’s awesome out and the surf is just starting to get good.” I looked him up and down.
“How tall are you?” He shrugged his shoulders and I couldn’t help but notice how much wider they seemed, and his biceps looked bigger. No! This was Brandon I was checking out! What was happening to me?
“I dunno. About 5’ 10” I think. My mom’s going crazy. She says I'm shooting up like a weed,” he said, “Why are you wearing a sweater in the middle of July?” I shifted uncomfortably.
“I don’t feel good.”
“Probably because you’re wearing a sweater when it’s 110 outside. C’mon, take it off and let’s go surfing.” and he started grabbing at it.
“No, Brandon, I don’t want to take off the shirt. Just forget about it,” I moaned. His poking turned into tickling me, which was the worst thing in the world. I squealed and squirmed, trying to move away from him. His hand collided with my reason to stay inside as he accidentally got a handful of my new boobs.
“Oh my God! I’m so sorry…” and he jumped back, horror and embarrassment all over his face. I was so mortified that I had to hold back tears. I knew it was an accident, but they literally grew overnight and I had no idea what to do with them. All I knew is that none of my shirts or training bras fit anymore.
“I’ll give you a call later.” And he quickly exited my room. I let the tears stream and all my frustration out.
We both got over Boob Grab ’90 by that night and all went back to normal, except that I was now officially a girl in his eyes. He didn’t treat me any differently other than a little bit of embarrassed starting whenever I wore a tank top. He never tried anything though, which was both a comfort and an annoyance. So, I started dating. None of my boyfriends were ever serious and through the rest of high school, I wanted him. He couldn’t see me as anything more than a friend. Then Prom happened.
I was so excited that I could not sit still while my hair was being done. He showed up at my house and I saw him though my bedroom window; black tux, hair brushed and tied back, a goofy smile on his face. I fell for him so hard. I couldn’t believe that the hippie next door could clean up so well. I was fairly certain that he even showered. This was a big night. The dance itself sucked, although we did slow dance to a song or three. After, we just hung out on the beach all night, talking about each other, the future, hopes, dreams, and wishes and releasing them to the stars. The next day we went and got our tattoos, binding us together. Graduation and the end of summer brought me leaving to go to USC while Brandon attended art school and focused on Incubus. Either I came back or he came and stayed on campus most weekends, but it was a bit weird. Most of my girl friends at school told me that I needed to get a grip and go on a few dates, since if nothing had happened by now, nothing ever was going to happen. A part of me knew that they were right.
Halfway through college, they got signed and the next year, S.C.I.E.N.C.E. was released. Things started changing. The shows started getting further and further away, and eventually he had to go out on tour. Don’t get me wrong, I was thrilled they were actually getting heard, but it just made arranging time to see each other a bit harder. Towards the end of my senior year, I did some freelance work on a few local shoots and caught the eye of the Promotion department at Epic Music Group and they had me interview. I got the job, which was great, except that I had four months left until I graduated. I told them that I wanted to wait, and by some grace, they accepted. My graduation from college was a big deal. I had a good job and a solid future in front of me.
When Brandon didn’t show up to my graduation, I was crushed. He had made arrangements to make sure that he was going to be in So Cal for it, and then I found out that he slept through it. After I had gone to everything I physically could for him, he missed my last big thing. I eventually forgave him, after he sent me a gallon tub of cookie dough, but it just made me realize that having a life together was going to be harder and harder. For some reason though, I couldn’t give up hope. I was falling in love with him and he wasn’t even here.
I started working for Epic, locating the nearest Starbucks on every shoot, but I really loved actually getting my hands dirty and being out there. The money was not bad either and I was able to move out of my mom’s house by the end of that summer. Brandon came back from touring, they wrote and recorded Make Yourself, and it just seemed like my life was finally getting on track again. Him and I were together constantly, often passing out on each other’s couches. We had finally found a happy medium and were comfortable enough with each other that little bits of affection went without question. I couldn’t tell him how I felt; there was no point. Nothing I said would have made him give up his dreams, not that I would ever ask him to. And why would he ever be interested in me when he had the whole world open to him? No, what we had was fine with me. Sadly, I should have known that it was only temporary.
The day Brandon left was the worst day of my life. I hadn't slept at all the night before so I was already a bit frazzled, but having to go to LAX one last time was too much for me. Our moms picked us up outside of his house and we sat in silence the whole way there, hand in hand. We met the rest of the guys and all got through security, my heart breaking with every step we took towards the gate. When they announced that the flight was boarding, my nightmare had come true. He gave everyone else hugs and said his goodbyes, saving me for last. I couldn't look at him, the tears coming dangerously close to the surface. He gently tilted my chin up and forced me to look into his eyes.
"I'm not dead" and he forced a smile, "I'll call every day, and you can call me. I'll write. I'll wave to you when we're on TV. You'll be with me."
"What am I going to do without you?"
"You don't need me. You never needed me."
"But what if I want you?" His smile returned and he pulled me into a hug. We stood there, neither of us daring to let go, his head resting on mine. I took a deep breath of his ocean and sweat scent and made sure I remembered it.
"I want you too," his deep baritone rumbled through me. I was so close to pulling him down to the floor, never letting him go, forcing him to stay here with me. I grasped the back of his shirt into tiny balls, trying to pull him even closer to me.
"Flight 89 to New York, final boarding..."
"Mandy, I have to go" Hearing him say my name, that was it. My whole body lurched into him with a sob, the tears finally coming out.
"No..."
"Brandon, we got to go…" came Mike's voice
"Mandy, let him go..." came my mom's voice. The two of them peeled us apart but I still held onto his hand.
"I'll be back" and he brought the top of my hand to his lips, placing one last kiss to send him off. I watched as he walked through the gate and waited with his mom and mine until the plane took off and was out of sight.
I was inconsolable. My mom cradled me the entire way back to Dolly's house, me wailing and sobbing like a two year old that was just denied ice cream after she had fallen off her bike and scraped her knee. He was gone. He was actually gone. And no one knew for how long, not even him.
Dolly brought us back to her house and made me a cup of tea. By this time, the tears had dried up and I couldn't cry anymore, just wallow in my sadness. My mom and her had gone out in the garden to compare some plants. I wandered up the stairs and into his old room, which still contained pretty much our entire high school lives. His art was strewn about, bits of journals and papers with random lyrics and thoughts, pictures from first gigs, a comic book or two. I sat down on his bed, looking at the life we used to share. Amongst all the chaos was a small silver frame on his bedside table. I picked it up and ran a finger across the glass, willing the smile from the picture to run across my face. I never knew he had this photo, pure and simple, black and white, me, sitting on the beach, gazing out and blissfully happy. I couldn't even remember when he took this. I had never seen it before.
"Thought I would find you up here" said Dolly from the doorway. She made her way through the room and sat next to me on the bed.
"He's right, you know. He's not dead, so you should stop mourning him." All I could do was nod. She was right, but I just couldn't. My best friend was ripped away from me for God knows how long. Life was scary enough, and now he was gone too.
"Do you love him?" The shock of the question snapped me out of my thoughts. I couldn't say anything.
"You love him." Not a question this time. She knew. I rested my head in my hands and nodded from behind them. She wrapped her arms around me.
"Everything will be alright. Love will find a way.”
Dolly gave me one of his old shirts to have until he came back. I wore it to bed every night without fail and never washed it. Disgusting, I know, but it still smelled like him, and I needed it to get me through.