Posted in fan fiction, fanfiction, fiction, my writing, Simple Plan, Writing

Bed Hair – Nine

"Merch whore."

Pierre stood quite still not sure what he was seeing. He knew what he was looking at. Whom he was seeing. But, he didn’t know if he wanted to believe it.

Chuck looked over at him, mouthing, “You okay, Pierre?”

Shaking his head, Pierre took a step back and turned to leave.

“Wait…” Her voice. He halted, but didn’t turn.

“Yeah?” The hitch of her breath almost made him change his mind, but he kept his gaze fixed ahead. He knew if he looked at her he'd lose control of his emotions, and he couldn't risk that; not now.

The tremor in her voice when she spoke, though. “You…look good.”

He ground his teeth together before answering in a low voice, “Thanks…” He shifted his gaze in her direction, deciding it couldn't hurt. Marly was looking anywhere but at him, her eyes slewing sideways to avoid his. He sighed, shaking his head and looking to his friends. “I'll see you in a few. Gotta go find Seb.”

The other chick who was with Marly said, loudly then, “Oh, that's right. I forgot about him. Thought you were all meeting us here.”

Pierre looked at her, frowning. “You're in the band?”

“Yeah, I'm Bianca.” The girl looked over to the other members of Fools Rush In, who throughout the whole exchange had remained silent. Surprised looks on their faces, not understanding.

Pierre nodded, trying a smile on for size as he looked at the four of them. “Well, I'll go get him. You should finish discussing the schedule with Chuck.” He turned and left without looking back and before anyone else could draw him.

* * * * *

Pierre found Sebastien in the business hub attempting to hook his laptop up to the hotel’s network.

“Hey?” he said in a low voice so as to not draw attention to either of them. Seb glanced up lips twitching a little when he recognised the singer.

“What’s up?”

Pierre shook his head, but decided against holding back. “She’s here.” He licked his lips then tried again. “Marly. She’s here.” The words didn’t seem real to him, but there they were, hanging in the air.

Seb blinked then pushed away from the desk, whistling through his teeth. “Dude. That’s not cool.” The fact that his friend understood how he was feeling made Pierre feel a little more at ease about the whole thing. He leaned against the wall, folding his arms over his chest as he watched his friend.

“What’s she doing here?” Seb asked. Pierre shook his head again.

“She’s with the support band.”

Seb met his eyes, surprise in his own. “What?”

“The merch whore,” Pierre scoffed, a bitter edge to his words. That was what they always used to call Patrick; the words rankled on Pierre’s lips, but it suited as far as he was concerned.

Seb furrowed his brow. “Well, you don’t have to have anything to do with her, right?”

Pierre heaved a sigh, dragging a hand through his hair before answering. “I promised Pat I wouldn’t be an asshole.” He looked down then back at the younger man to see his reaction.

Seb lifted his shoulders. “Be polite. Talk to her if she talks to you. Don’t need to do any more than that.”

It made sense. More sense than he could come up with at that moment, so Pierre nodded to his friend and then pushed away from the wall.

“Thanks, Seb. See you at rehearsal?”

Seb lifted his hand. “See ya, Pierre.”

Pierre turned to go then paused, looking back at the guitarist. “You ever have to deal with this shit?”

Seb blinked, looking back at him. “In high school, maybe.” He sucked at his bottom lip. “Not now, though. I’ve got it pretty good,” he said in a gentle tone. The singer gave a wry smile, thinking of Seb’s fiancée who was back in Montreal.

“Yeah…you do. Hold onto her, eh.”

Seb nodded then murmured, “You’ll be right, dude.”

Pierre lifted his shoulders and let out a non-committal grunt before turning to leave.

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