David Bowie One Shot - Tumblr Posts
Jack Celliers: Beautiful Eyes
Imagine your best friend/crush(Jack Celliers) discovers that you were a girl the whole time:
Jack Celliers, that's a name I haven't heard in quite a while. He was one of my closest friends, my best friend even, and he's the only one to ever figure out my secret.
The secret I try so hard to hide is that I am actually a girl, I just dress up and act like a boy so that I could go to the good schools, and eventually join the military. I don't know who my parents are since I've been on the streets my whole life; no one knew me before I put on my disguise, so it was the perfect idea, at least until I met Jack
I cut my hair short, but long enough that it will fringe over my forehead and in front of my eyes. I do this in fear that if I truly look someone in the eye, they may discover my horrid truth.
I have boyish features, a passably low pitch voice, wide shoulders, and a lean body, all of which aid me in keeping up appearances. I didn't have to wrap my chest when I was younger, but I started to when I reached my teenage years; this of course caused some problems, especially during physical education classes.
_______
The first time I met Jack was during my first day at school, no one knew me, and that was just how I liked it.
I had managed to get special entry into the school based on my high test scores, which are due to my self-education and extensive reading of all forms of literature. I hadn't been in a real school for years, and I was joining in at the age of 15; so I had grown into my more feminine features. Which seemed to solidify a permanent nervousness that emanated continuously throughout my bones.
Before I began my walk to school I looked in my broken mirror, rechecking the wrap around my chest to assure it was snug. I turned to the side and pulled my white uniform shirt tighter, just to make sure I was well hidden, and to my relief I was. Releasing a shaky breath I straightened my tie and shrugged on the gray jacket, smoothing it down before ruffling my hair and turning to leave.
The longer I walked the more my mind wandered. Do I still look convincing, my lips have filled out more, does my face look too feminine? I try not to smile or laugh as much, and I try to keep my talking to a minimum. Sometimes I'd accidentally break out of my facade, my true tone grabbing the attention of passersby; so I've learned to just not talk whenever possible.
_______
As I entered the school my attention was ensnared by the old charm of the buildings, the architecture, the plants, as well as the boyish atmosphere. I've never been in such a nice place before, I lived in an abandoned building most of my life, so this school feels like heaven.
I was so busy observing everything that I ended up tripping, having gotten my foot caught on a stone; I was about a second away from slamming into a brick wall when strong hands surprisingly grasped my shoulders at the last moment. They pulled me back up and safely onto my feet before relinquishing their grip, I felt anxious as I began to turn around, the stumble already had my heart racing.
The face I met was not what I expected - he looked to be about my age, and unlike most boys, he had a boisterously bright shade of blond hair. I had to look up a bit to greet him, but when I did, I found myself unable to speak. He was beautiful, his skin was light, and his eyes the most calming blue. I immediately noticed a slight peculiarity in his left pupil, but quickly shook myself, having realized that I'd been staring blankly for a few seconds.
I'm about to speak, but he beats me to it.
"Careful there, can't have you hurting yourself on your first day." His accented voice rings out through the noisy environment, and his face adorns a lovely smile with crooked teeth. I'm so entranced by him that I overlook how he knows it's my first day, instead anxiously attempting to form a response.
"Thank you, I really should pay more attention next time." My voice is a little shaky, and I get a nervous chill when I realize that I didn't lower my tone enough. His expression goes from welcoming to curious - maybe even slightly cautious, and a glint of something streamed through his eyes, but it was gone before I could interpret it. His head tilts slightly to the side as he silently gazes at me for a few seconds.
"It's alright, no harm done. Now what's your name? I'm Jack Celliers." He reaches out his hand, the grin reappearing on his face. I force my nervousness away as much as possible, reaching out my hand and carefully shaking his.
"Hello Jack, I'm Shiloh, Shiloh Carmichael."
_______
That was the day I knew I had met my best friend, he was always there for me, helping me with things that I didn't understand, especially when it came to maths and sciences. We were in the same year, which helped out a lot as we had a lot of classes together. I'd end up helping him as well, mainly with literature and history.
It took me a while to open up to him about my past - 2 years to be exact, but I eventually told him of my situation. How I have no memory of my family, that I live in an abandoned and crumbling building, how I learned everything from staying up at unreasonable hours reading as much as possible, how I only have two other pairs of clothing, and that I have to beg for enough money just to get them washed.
Needless to say, he became quite distressed and worried about my situation; don't even get me started on his reaction to learning that my first real meal was the school lunch I ate on my first day. My heart raced at the worry he was displaying for me, I wanted him to care for me, but not in the friendship way. I try to bury those thoughts though, he thinks I'm a boy, there's no way he would ever care for me the way I want him to.
_______
I scrambled into class just before the bell rang, my body shaking with adrenaline as the teacher harshly glared at me, telling me to take my seat in a curt tone. I nod my head as I rush to my seat, Jack immediately looks to me, offering a smile before returning his attention to the teacher.
I was unable to pay attention to any of my lessons, my mind kept straying to what happened last night. I had walked back into my 'home' after a tiring day of school that was followed by Jack talking me into playing a couple of sports games with him and his friends. I just wanted to fall onto my raggedy mattress and drift away, but the sight I was met with was a group of about 3 men.
They were all much larger than me, and ransacking through what little possessions I had. They all turned their heads to me, eyeing my backpack and nice uniform, glancing at one another before grimly smirking at me. One reached into his pants pocket and flicked out a switchblade, but before they could even take a step towards me I had bolted out of the building.
This isn't the first time this has happened to me, but it is no less scary; the last time I was caught they took everything but the clothes on my back.
Being a teen now, I hoped they would give up, but they chased me for a good while, almost catching me a couple of times, but they eventually gave up. I had run into a small store along a busy street, my lungs felt like they had been ripped in half, and my feet were about ready to fall off.
I had nowhere to sleep that night, and I had lost all my other clothes, meaning I was going to be stuck in this uniform for a while. I had taken my chest wrap off when I started walking home too, and I ditched it as soon as I took off, so I'm in a bit of a rough spot. This means that I have my shoulders constantly pushed forward, and my jacket buttoned all the way up today.
As lunch lolled around, I found myself sitting on the stairs away from the lunch hall. I just wanted some alone time to think, to try and figure out how to get spare clothes and a new place to stay. I'm sucked out of my thoughts by something landing in my lap, I glance down to see a soft, fuzzy looking peach. Staring up in confusion, I am met by the concerned gaze of Jack as he offers a quiet greeting. I want to respond, but I really have nothing to say at the moment.
After a second of no response he sighs, dropping himself onto the stair next to me, his elbows resting on his knees as he looks over to me. I, of course, avoid his gaze at all costs, only finally giving in after a few minutes of silence.
"What's wrong Shiloh? You haven't said a word all day, and now you're skipping lunch, you never skip lunch." His voice is concerned, he's sitting so close to me I almost want to blush, but I know I can't allow that.
"Jack... I'm f-" I begin, about to say I was just feeling tired from sports yesterday, but got cut off by him.
"Don't tell me a lie." His accented tone was sharp, almost warning me that there would be consequences. I shy away from him now, he's never talked to me like this, I don't want him to be angry at me, and I know lying will only aggravate him further.
"...When I got 'home' last night.. There were some people there." My sentence comes out hesitantly as I tentatively look at his stoic face, the sternness quickly shifting to concern.
"What?" His voice raises in surprise, he shifts his body to face me as I continue.
"To cut a long story short, I don't have any place to stay, and the only clothes I have are the ones I'm wearing. Everything else is theirs now... I'm just glad they didn't catch me to-"
"Catch you! You mean they chased you!" The shock in his voice is evident, but not as obvious as the distress that's radiating off him in waves.
A silence settles over us as his eyes shift from me to the floor, wringing his hands as he thinks, his mind seems to be running a mile a minute.
"You can stay with me." It takes me a few seconds to acknowledge that he actually just said that. My head snaps towards him, I can't help but be stunned. I open my mouth to argue, but the look he gives me tells me that he won't take 'no' for an answer.
My eyes dart to the floor, a moment passing before I release a sigh and reluctantly accept his offer.
_______
I tried to slip out of school before Jack could stop me; I thought it would be easy to disappear amongst the throng of students, but the hold on my arm tells me something different. I turn to see Jack giving me a warning look, his serene blue eyes holding a protective element in them. I turn my gaze to the students leaving before lowering my head, allowing Jack to lead me away.
The whole day I've felt on edge, maybe because I don't have a chest wrap on today, maybe it's because I didn't sleep last night. Or perhaps it's because I am undeniably attracted to Jack and now he's having me live with him and his family until further notice. How am I supposed to hide my true self now? How am I supposed to hide my love for him? It certainly doesn't help that he towers over me, all the boys at school say I'm short, but at 5 foot 6 I am the average height for a woman.
"I called my parents during break, they're fine with you staying with us, but they need the living room and guest room clear, so we'll be sharing my room." I swear my heart was trying to rip itself out of my chest with how hard it was beating, and I could feel my breath getting caught in my throat, but I tried to cover it with a cough before nodding my head 'okay'.
We stay silent the rest of the time, but I could tell that Jack had something on his mind that he desperately wanted to say, and it's making me nervous.
_______
Jack said his parents and brother were out until tomorrow evening, so we spent our time exploring the house; him showing me his room, the kitchen, where the bathroom and laundry rooms are, as well as showing me the garden. I could tell he was surprised when my face lit up at seeing the beautiful plants. I was so caught up that I grabbed his hand and dragged him around as I named all the plants as well as little facts about them. I couldn't see it, but he had a warm smile on his face as well as a light blush dusting his cheeks.
We spent our time sitting in the garden, doing our homework underneath the shade of the trees. Him helping me with my maths, myself helping him with his literature homework, he always seems to have trouble understanding the assigned chapters.
The sun was beating down a little harsher than usual for this season, and the jackets were making us a little stuffy. I shrugged mine off without a second thought, Jack doing the same thing, he turns and places his jacket beside him while talking to me about the passage. As he looks back towards me he suddenly halts mid-sentence. I look towards him in confusion, but his gaze seems to be even more confused as he looks from my face to my chest in a quick succession.
My entire body goes rigid as I realize my fatal mistake, quickly grabbing my jacket and wrapping it back around me. My breathing stutters as I hurriedly shove my books into my backpack before I hurriedly start walking away. Jack sits there for a second in shock at this revelation before bolting up, running towards me as I too had now begun to run.
I should've known better than to try and run from Jack for he catches me in no time, tightly holding my wrist as he pulls me back towards his house. I tried everything from sitting down to biting him, but nothing stopped him as he dragged me inside, only releasing me to shut and lock the door.
I drop my bag and bolt through the house and up the stairs, trying to find some escape; in my delirium I corner myself in his bedroom. I can hear him right behind me, slamming his bedroom door shut as he grabs both my wrists and pushes me back to the wall. I don't know what to think, he's probably just as confused as I am - maybe even a little angry. I'm also terrified, I could lose my best friend right now.
He hasn't said a thing to me the entire time, and now all the stress and anxiety is just too high, so high that I find myself no longer able to hold back the river of tears. I turn my head to the side, not wanting him to see me in such a weak and vulnerable state. His grip loosens as he surveys the situation, unsure of how to react, especially after what has just occurred.
"Don't.. Please, don't cry, Shiloh." His voice is soft, softer than I've ever heard him speak before, and his tone seems different than his normal caring one. I turn my head away from him even further, but he gently places a hand against my jaw, tenderly turning me to face him. I shut my eyes tightly, fearful of what I might see.
"Open your eyes darling." My eyes open slowly in shock, him calling me 'darling' sets my chest a flare as my attraction for him comes forward with a vengeance, my cheeks burning with a crimson blush, my tears slowing as I gaze up into his doting eyes. My hair still drapes over my eyes, obstructing our eye contact - something that he quickly fixes.
Gently raising his other hand, softly combing his fingers through my hair as he brushes it to the side. My breathing is shallow as I gaze deeply into his eyes, his cheeks also seem to be tinted red as he smiles affectionately at me.
"Much better, I've been wondering what your beautiful eyes looked like."
Jack Celliers: Sadie
Imagine your husband(Jack) finds you in the POW camp:
I've been here for so long that the beatings don't seem to hurt anymore. It's like I'm not quite in my body anymore, instead I'm watching it, almost as though I'm just an onlooker.
I don't know how I managed to get here, all I know is that I tricked my military into thinking I was a man, and next thing you know I'm out here fighting a war, only to be caught. My trial was short, I was nearly sentenced to death, but by a stroke of luck I was detained as a prisoner of war. That's not to say that I feel lucky, most definitely not, you have no idea how hard it is to hide being a female when you are a prisoner.
I've lost so much weight that I no longer have my period, so that is a big help, but I also know that this quick weight loss is incredibly unhealthy. Now the only issues I have include hiding the fact that I wrap my chest, as well as making sure that I consistently lower my tone.
I don't socialize too much with the other soldiers, I barely even talk to Lawrence, and the only reason I do is because he goes out of his way to initiate conversations with me. I think he has assumptions about my true identity, he does have quite the analytical mind, and I would have to be an award winning actress to pull the wool over his eyes; but as of yet he has made no mention of this towards me, my only evidence being the cautious glances as well as a sudden protective nature.
_______
I can't say for sure how long I've been here, but I know it's been at least a couple of months now. I've gotten closer with Lawrence, no longer minding our occasional chats. I seem to be the preferred punching bag for the guards, so I told Lawrence early on, that should anything ever happen to me, I want only him to treat me; I don't care how bad my injuries are, only he is allowed to treat me.
This is the third time this week I've ended up in our makeshift hospital, no one but Lawrence will even come near me in fear that my bad luck might rub off on them. I'm more than sure Lawrence knows I'm a woman, but he still hasn't said a thing about it to me.
All I know is that I can trust him... I hope.
_______
Lawrence's POV:
Bailey Stevens... quite a good soldier from what I remember, but I barely know him really, or should I say 'her'; because I obviously know that this soldier is a woman, and I suspect that she knows of my assumptions.
She's extremely reserved, which is expected from everything she's been put through; the guards here seem to love beating on her. I'm not sure whether it's due to her being physically smaller than everyone, or because she has an intrinsic need to act; probably both.
I can't help but feel a need to protect her, she's like the rebellious sister I never had. I can't allow the Japanese - or anyone for that matter - to figure out that she is a woman. Who knows what they would do to her.
_______
She's been unconscious for a couple of days now, only having brief periods of consciousness where she might drink some water, or says 'hello' before going back under. I don't know what to do anymore, I've told our doctor everything, and I've done everything he's told me to do, but she still sleeps the days away.
To add on, I've got another friend here now, Maj. Jack Celliers, another determined soldier who was born to act. I know I'll have my hands full with these two when they both get back on their feet.
__
It's late into the night when her form begins to stir, I quickly sit up, wondering if today will be the day her strength returns. I must admit that I've missed her rebellious spirit, though I also fear how she will react to having possibly lost sight in her right eye.
Her eye flutters open, wandering around the rundown building before focusing on me. She tugs the covers tightly against her chest, and I can see the underlying fear emanating from within her gaze, I can only offer her a soft smile to try and calm her down.
"I know Bailey... I know. No need to worry, your secret is safe with me." My tone is gentle and friendly, and I can see her body losing the tension that had been building. Releasing a quiet sigh before bringing a hand up to her face, gently running her fingers over the gauze covering her right eye. I feel my body slightly go rigid as she looks to me for an explanation.
"Bailey, during your last beating... you were struck quite a few times to the head... It caught you right in the eye. We're not sure whether you'll have sight in it when it's healed...I'm sorry."
_______
Bailey Stevens' POV:
My chest tightens at the explanation, knowing you might lose sight in one of your eyes is an incredibly scary thing to be told. Especially in a place like this where surviving is already hard. I raise my gaze to Lawrence and see the sadness in his eyes, he looks ashamed of telling me about my injuries, almost as if feeling at fault.
I reach out my left hand, softly resting it atop his.
"It's alright, it's not your fault." I offer him a gentle smile as he gives me his own. Our moment is interrupted by the groaning of another person, I look to him in question as to who it is. He responds with another smile before shaking his head.
"That's another troublemaker quite like yourself, Bailey." His voice contains a sad humor in it, one that makes me want to laugh and frown at the same time.
"What's his name?" My voice is a whisper, but I have switched to my normal tone, it feels refreshing not having to hide who I am.
"That would be Jack Celliers. He quite reminds me of you actually, almost ironically." His tone once again holds that same gloomy humor. I however feel my eyes widen in shock as I hear his name, my heart rate increasing at the thought of it being my Jack Celliers.
"Jack Celliers?" My voice holds confusion as well as surprise, I never thought I would see him again until the war ended, that or in heaven. When he left for the war, I knew he might never return, so I put on my disguise and rolled the dice. It's been so long that I thought I might never see him again, but here we both are, stuck in the same POW camp.
"Yes.... Do you know him?" Lawrence looks confused at first, but upon seeing the worry on my face, he quickly contorts into a knowing gaze; a small smirk grazing his features at my lack of response.
"Ahh, so you do know him." His voice raises above a whisper slightly, and I quickly shush him, not wanting anyone to wake up and hear our conversation.
"Yes... Yes, I do know him. Is he alright? What's happened to him? Is he going to be oka-"
"Slow down there Bailey... When he arrived his condition was just as bad as yours, but the doctors say he's recovering quite well and will be good as new soon." My whole body relaxes at hearing he's getting better and will be alright. As I lean back, a strong sense of sleepiness rushes over me, that and the pain of my beatings; but I've never fought harder in my life to keep my eyes open, I know Lawrence can tell I'm struggling.
"Is there anything you might want me to tell him should he wake up before you?" He speaks quickly, wanting to give me enough time to respond before I lose consciousness.
"Tell him.. tell him Sadie says 'hi'." You can practically hear my smile as I tell him to use my real name. He also gives me a smile, and that's the last thing I see before darkness consumes my vision once more.
_______
Lawrence's POV:
Sadie, what an oddly fitting name for the girl who acts to survive.
I quietly walk over to Jack's bed to see if he's is awake. I'm not sure this is the best time to tell him, but at the same time, who am I to withhold this information.
As I reach his secluded sleeping arrangement, I watch as he turns slightly, his eyes fluttering open. Recognition flows through them as we look at each other.
"Hello Jack."
"Lawrence." His voice is gravely, and I can tell his body is exhausted. I slowly sit on the bed beside his own, rubbing my hands together in thought. He looks at me as he awaits what I am clearly contemplating saying.
"Jack... Is there the possibility that you know someone named Sadie?" My voice is hesitant as I speak, but the look of recognition over hearing her name immediately tells me everything I need to know. He carefully nods his head, his eyes now fixed on me with a new sense of focus.
"I only ask because another soldier recognized your name and asked me to tell you 'hello'." I can see the confusion swirl in his mind as to how another soldier knew your name, or why they would ask me to say 'hello'.
"Jack... That soldier is a woman, who goes by the name of Sadie, and claims to know you. Is there something I should know?" When he hears that the said soldier is a woman, his body jolts forward, not only in shock, but concern as well. I don't know their past, but the way they react to hearing about each other tells me they are much more than friends.
"I have to see her." Jack gasps, hurriedly stumbling to get out of his bed. I immediately rush forward, providing support for him as he attempts to stand.
"Are you sure about doing this right now? How about in the morni-"
"No, I need to see her. NOW." He doesn't raise his voice at all throughout his sentence, but the way he speaks is with such conviction, such certainty and determination that I know there will be no talking him out of this. I hesitantly nod my head, helping him walk over to her own secluded sleeping area, carefully setting him down on the bed beside hers.
He just sits there, staring longingly at her unconscious form. He looks sad, depressed even, at the sight of her. His hand slowly reaches out, softly gliding his fingers over the rough gauze that covers the right half of her face.
"How... What happened?" His tone exudes concern, but his face remains stoic.
"She tried to stop the guards from harming another soldier, I suppose you could say she got their attention." My sentence is formatted in a humorous way, but my tone remains serious. She nearly died from this, I don't find anything about that to be funny.
Jack sat there for a few more moments, just silently thinking to himself as his fingers continuously drift along the gauze.
"Will she be alright?" His tone is slightly higher, like what happens when your throat tightens up in the early stages of despair. I can tell that seeing Sadie like this brings him immense pain, maybe even guilt, but I know that he probably doesn't want me to bring it up.
"She's quite the fighter, just like you. The doctor says she should be fine, but we have no conclusive evidence on what will happen to her eye. Odds are 50/50." I try not to sugarcoat anything, but I also try to be respectful of what I say. This is the woman he loves, the last thing he needs to hear is that she might not make it.
Jack solemnly nods his head. I move forward to help move him back to his bed when he suddenly looks up to me.
"Can I stay here? In this bed?" His eyes are pleading for me to say yes, and I know that if the woman I loved were here, I too would want to stay right next to her.
"... Alright, you can stay here. But there are some things you should know first. No one else but us two know that she is a woman, alright? And she goes by the name Bailey Stevens, so when she does come around, and others are awake, just call her Bailey, alright?" Jack's eyes burn with curiosity at hearing her chosen name, but he nods his head in understanding.
I say goodnight to him, before turning and walking off a little bit. Slightly intrigued, I turn and watch from afar as Jack gently kisses one of her hands before laying down in his own bed, not once facing away from her. My mind only has one thought running through it the entire time:
"This could either be really good, or really bad."
David Bowie: The Actress
Imagine David Bowie being interviewed, and the conversation suddenly focuses on you:
David Bowie's POV:
"So David, in the newest music video you had a lovely woman beside you. Would you mind telling us about her?" The question caught me off guard, we had previously been talking about advice for younger artists, so this was a drastic change.
I find myself tilting my head in confusion, Y/N was a well kept secret. She is beloved by all of America, yet somehow managed to stay hidden away from all of Europe; but I never thought she was so niche that the British media couldn't find any information on her.
The interviewer noticed my change in mood, deciding to reword her rather blunt question.
"I don't mean that in a rude way, we know that she is the lovely actress Y/N L/N. I was simply wondering how it was that you stumbled upon her... Over here many haven't even heard of her." She leans forward, eagerly awaiting my response.
"Of course, what would you like to know?" I don't really know what to expect, Y/N is quite the spectacular woman, and the questions are sure to be spectacular as well.
"Well... How did you two meet? Did her people contact you? Was it pure chance?" The interviewer clasps her hands together as she awaits my answer. I start thinking about how I got in contact with her, having to stifle a smirk at the memory of her manager's surprise when he learned that David Bowie wanted Y/N in his newest music video.
"I reached out to her." I state calmly as I imagine her serene voice, smiling slightly as I replay her moments of stubbornness during filming. She wasn't a rude sort of stubborn, but she stuck firm to her beliefs, and always knew how to win my approval.
"You did!?" She's clearly taken aback at hearing I specifically wanted such an 'unknown' actress starring with me. I can't help but want to sigh in annoyance, Y/N deserves much more recognition for her amazing skill. Her acting is stunning, and I learned over filming that her musical talent is just as brilliant, if not better. That reminds me, I'll have to ask her about a possible future collaboration.
"Yes... I had seen her in the film 'Poem to a Murderer,' and had subsequently written a song in admiration of her. Then when the song was chosen from my album to get a music video, I simply couldn't pass up on the chance to meet the wonderful actress herself." She was breathtaking in that film, gaining both my admiration and attention in the psychological thriller. The interviewer nods in thought, mulling my answer before opening her mouth to respond.
"Can you tell us anything about her role that caught your attention?" There's so much I could say, so much I want to say, but I don't want to spoil the amazing movie. How do I word this into a short sentence whilst still exclaiming my admiration for Y/N?
"Well, the movie itself was a beautifully written and produced piece of art in itself, disturbingly surreal in a way with the imagery they created. I don't want to spoil too much, but I can tell you that every second of that film keeps you on your toes, and Y/N's character kept me on the edge of my seat every scene she was in." I can't help but praise everything about her. She was exceptional in the film, and started me on a search to find and watch everything that she starred in.
"Ever since the music video, theories about you have been flying all through England. Any chance there might be some truth to them?" She asked the question so bluntly that I'm almost stunned. I'll never get used to interviewers being borderline rude while asking intrusive questions.
"Well it really depends on what's being said. I always have rumors circulating about me." I chuckle slightly, both in humor as well as hidden disdain at the truth of my statement. I am slightly intrigued about what she is talking about specifically, what theories have formed about me this time?
"I have sources who claim to have been on set during filming. They said you two were incredibly flirty with one another. They reckon a romantic fling occurred behind closed doors?" Her question isn't said cruelly, she genuinely seems curious; as does the audience from the looks of it. I hate these questions, why does everyone always have to spread rumors?
"Sorry to disappoint you, but there was no 'romantic fling'. Y/N was a very polite and professional person, so much so that I actually thought she didn't like me at first." I laugh through the latter part of my sentence, but I also cringe faintly at the feeling of dejection I had during that time.
"Really! She didn't like you at all?" This is becoming vaguely annoying, I tell them something, then they restate it wrong.
"That's not what I said, I said I thought she didn't like me. During the beginning of filming she was very closed off and focused, but even when the cameras were off she was professional to the point I thought she didn't like me." I explain with a sigh, remembering those moments where I shyly would try talking to her, only to be met with what I perceived as a closed off response.
"Oh, but... did she like you?"
"Luckily she did. It was funny, I remember the specific moment I realized that she didn't hate me. We were filming the fight scene, and the person I was sparring with, Jeffrey Callos, actually caught me in the jaw." I explained before she burst forward in astonishment.
"You were punched? Bet he got the sack." Her eyes are wide open as she surveys me, the crowd laughing lightly at the second half of her sentence.
"Ha ha, not quite. You see, my crew plotted this because they said I was being daft thinking she hated me. I had bet that she would stay in character and play it off, maybe even laugh. Practically everyone else bet that she might kill Jeff."
"Well! What did she do!"
"Funny enough, she nearly killed Jeff... " The audience burst out laughing at my statement, the interviewer and I were chuckling as well. I waited for everyone to settle before continuing my story.
"No no, she didn't kill him. She did run right over, fretting over me and asking if I was okay before running off IN HEELS to get me an ice pack and towel. I can't tell you the relief I felt at that moment. I was worried that she really hated me, but deep down she was incredibly caring and very sweet." I feel embarrassed in a way, describing how caring this reserved woman became when she saw me topple over from the punch.
"So... Does she know? The truth I mean?" Her question is quick to follow my explanation, so quick I don't understand it completely.
"What's that now?"
"Does she know the truth? Did she find out it was a set up?"
"Ah, yes well, it is kind of hard to miss when everyone is smirking at us as she helped me up. I had to explain the situation, and she got awfully flustered." A warm smile spreads across my face at the memory of her with a deep blush across her cheeks.
"I almost thought she would punch me as well, but she just kissed my cheek before saying she could never hate me."
"Aww." The crowd 'oohs' and 'awwws' at the story, I admit that the memory has me blushing slightly as well.
"She seems like quite the memorable lady." She smiles at me, raising her eyebrows slightly.
"Oh, she was great... I only wish I could've gotten to know her better, but her manager was getting calls for her every second of filming. She's probably much too busy to even remember me." I drop my smile slightly, I hope she remembers me, because I'll always remember her.
"I wouldn't say that David." Her response caught me off guard, what's she talking about?
"What do you mean?" My tone shows a little confusion, but I try to keep a check on my emotions.
"You know we invited you here to not only talk about this album, but also your future role in the film Merry Christmas Mr. Lawrence?" She's grinning widely now, but I just want to know what she's building up to already.
"Yes... But what does that have to do with Y/N?" I squint my eyes slightly as I watch her sit up sharply.
"Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome the lovely Y/N L/N, who will be starring alongside David Bowie in Merry Christmas Mr. Lawrence." The shock on my face must have been priceless as I turned and watched as Y/N gracefully walked towards us, the crowd's cheers quickly shifting into a mixture of giggles and laughter.
I stand up quickly, wanting to be polite as well as impress her. I may have neglected to tell the interviewer, but I did develop a slight attraction towards Y/N during filming.
"Hello Jonesey." Her sweet voice has me ignoring the name, a wide smile erupting across my face. She leans forward to hug me, kissing my cheek softly in greeting before shaking hands with our interviewer. I wait for her to sit before following suit, nervously glancing sideways to see her smiling at me already.
The crowd cheers for a few more moments, gradually beginning to quiet down.
"It's been a while, hasn't it, Jonesey?" I blush at the nickname, remembering when she first started calling me it. I don't even know how it started, but she first called me 'Jonesey' to make me laugh when I was filming a serious scene in the video, and laugh I did. From then on, 'Jonesey' was her go to nickname whenever she saw me.
"It's only been a few weeks, love." I grin, patting her hand gently as it rests on the armrest. Surprise gripping me as she lifts up my hand to her lips, gently kissing it before speaking.
"Too long for me." She smirks playfully to me, and I offer her a warm smile in reply before nervously glancing away.
The crowd has quieted down enough now, hopefully not noticing the intimate moment that passed between us.
"What was that? Seems like a lot more than costars catching up." Of course, the interviewer is sadly never one to miss a possible question. My mind stutters as I try to think of what to say, luckily not having to.
"I just love making Jonesey blush, surely he's told you that."
"What do you mean miss L/N?" Oh no, why do interviewers always manage to dig up embarrassing personal things. I'm usually okay with this, but being so near Y/N just has my mind fried.
"I mean, hasn't David told you of all the times I purposely just tried to make him blush during filming? I have a wonderful amount of memories where he couldn't even get a word out with how flustered he was." She giggles at the end of her sentence, lightly shoving my shoulder humorously as a blush dusts my cheeks again.
"David? You've been holding back on me?" The interviewer looks at me in a jokingly accusing way, crossing her arms as she looks at me.
"Nooooo... I've just been.. Selectively sharing?" My voice is uneven, I couldn't even form a proper sentence when she was near me. I glance to Y/N as I practically ask my sentence, waiting for her to nod in confirmation before shifting back to the interviewer a little more confident.
However, that confidence was a little damaged when the audience laughed at the interaction.
"Well, I think we know who wears the pants in the relationship. Anyways... " The interviewer continues on as I struggle to try and find my words to argue with her, but I'm quickly silenced by Y/N's gentle tug on my sleeve. She pulls me back in my seat, quietly whispering in my ears,
"You can show me who's the boss after... " Her words are delicate, no longer exuding the confidence from earlier, clearly unsure of how I'll respond.
The interviewer continues rambling, but I simply gaze deeply into her eyes, calmly kissing her hand in response before we both turn our attention back to the interviewer. But we aren't really paying attention, our minds wandering to scenarios of what might play out when this interview finishes.
Rockstar: Your Story(Interview)
You're a famous rock star being interviewed about the beginning of your career to the current (includes mentions of Mick Ronson, David Bowie, and Mick Jagger):
"Ma'am, can you tell us a little bit about when you first met David Bowie?" The question was so sudden that I could only scrunch my eyebrows at it. I expected David to be brought up sometime, but I didn't expect the first question to be about him.
"Sure, let's see.... I can't remember the exact date, but my dear friend - Mick Ronson - had called me up saying some band was interested in having us as guitar players. I was hesitant because I enjoyed my job as an architect, but something pushed me to go with him; we hopped on the next train to London and did the audition." I explain, tilting my head up at the memories resurfacing. Ronno had been unsure as well, but I'm glad we went.
"We heard it wasn't a pleasant experience? What happened?" They emphasize 'wasn't', clearly looking for some juicy gossip on Bowie, and who am I to disappoint.
"Well, David had accepted Mick but rejected me, and Ronno originally turned down the offer because of that. He didn't even tell me the truth, just grabbed me by the arm and lugged me as well as the guitars out of the building. I knew it hadn't gone well because he had this angry glare in his eyes, which is strange, because if you've ever met him, then you'd know he's rather sweet, and has a very discerning disposition.
I asked what was wrong and he just said that they didn't want us. I knew he was lying, but I didn't want to argue with him. We spent the rest of the time wandering around London sightseeing." I state, folding my hands up in my lap as I look at the interviewer. I don't like looking back to the '70s, a lot of stuff happened, and I fear what they will bring up.
"What happened after that?" The interviewer continues hastily digging, wanting more information. I guess this person isn't going to quit until they get the full story.
"We had stopped by a restaurant and were having lunch. Ronno was saying we should catch the train home after, but we were interrupted by David. I don't know how he found us, I just remember being shocked when he started begging Ronno to join his band. I was also a little confused, and I remember saying, 'I thought you didn't want us?'
To which David responded, 'No, I want him, I just don't want you.' That line had run through my head the following 3 years until I realized how lucky I was David didn't want me." I say the last few sentences in a softer voice, not liking to relive that particular memory.
"He said what?!" The interviewer over exaggerates their movements, getting the audience laughing just as they had hoped. I laugh a little too, David saying something so rude does seem rather uncharacteristic.
"Yah, I was rather astonished as well because the words left him in such a casual way, as if choosing what bread to buy at the market." I say, gently chuckling at the visual of David buying bread in such a critical way.
"What- How, how did Mick react to that." Their eyes widen, the crowd quiets down as they await my answer.
"Oh, he almost punched David! But I grabbed him and pulled him aside, asking why he lied and all that stuff." I respond, remembering the beautiful anger that he so desperately wanted to act on.
"I bet the last thing you wanted was for him to join David's band, right?" The interviewer asks the question humorously.
"That's... Wrong actually. He was vehemently against playing in a band without me, this is mainly due to the fact that ever since we were 12, we've always played together. But, I wanted him to take the opportunity, to show the world his ability, and to be able to be a confident player without me." I explain in a gentle voice, vaguely thinking of how self-conscious he was at the time when it came to him playing guitar.
"You seem to be a really supportive friend, (Y/N)." The tone of their voice turns genuine, the whole conversation losing the humorous quality that had been sustained.
"I try to be, the last thing I want is for people's failings or regrets to be because of me." I smile, my relieved guilt ebbing away as I think of where he and I are now.
"As well as being supportive, you also seem to be fairly protective, at least, that's what I got when Mick told us the story of you traumatizing his high school bully! With that in mind, how did you feel when you learned he was earning next to nothing during the tour?" The beginning of the sentence sent the interviewer and audience into a bit of a laugh, I laugh as well at the memory of scaring off Ronno's bully.
The laughter lightly quiets down to a more serious tone at the end discussion.
"I was appalled! I hated myself for a while because of that, because I pushed him into this situation where he was barely getting paid. Which was the opposite of what I thought would happen, especially after their popularity went through the roof!"I exclaimed, my eyes widening as I relived the shock; the ebbing guilt rushing forward tenfold.
"I heard you went to some extreme measures in order to help him out, what exactly did you do?" The interviewer goes on, the questions digging into lesser known information.
"Well, I joined any band I could, I would try and get hired by restaurants for live music during nights, and then during the day I had a job as a waitress as well as working part time as a lyricist." I explain, just saying that makes me remember how tiring my schedule was back then.
"Now that's a lot to juggle, and I'm sure you have some great stories from those days, but we have a specific story. What happened during one of your many tiring nights of live music?" They ask, this question is sort of a bore to me, one I'm frequently asked to retell.
"I had been band hopping at the time, and was hired for a gig when I didn't have a supportive group, so I improvised. I played my guitar and was singing live, but before that I had recorded the drums and rhythm guitar parts for the songs I was scheduled to play, so when I got up there I just started the recording and played along.
This was for a club where they wanted rock, so it was heavier playing. It was during my guitar solo I noticed someone in the crowd." I divulged, deciding to add in some information I had never shared before.
"Ooh, is this when you met the Rolling Stones?!" Someone screams out, the crowd and interviewer looking in shock before they all burst out laughing at the person's eagerness.
"Yes... but I technically only met Mick Jagger that night. I wasn't a big fan of the Rolling Stones at the time, but I did have an appreciation for their music. I was actually playing one of their songs at the time. Either way, it just surprised me to see him." I continued after we had all calmed down.
"I know you joined their band after that, but can you tell us what exactly went down?" I squint slightly at my interviewer's vernacular before deciding to just answer them.
"I don't think I can tell you all the details, I worry J might get embarrassed! But, I can tell you that he met me backstage after I was done and asked me if I was available tomorrow to meet him at a recording studio. It was the weekend the next day, so I said yes, he wrote down the address and time on a piece of paper, handed it to me, then said goodbye and walked away." I state in a jovial tone, Jagger is one of my favorite people to talk about, because he loves to call immediately after the interview and schedule a meet up. He's strange like that.
"Sounds strange? How did you feel after that?" They looked intrigued, clearly wanting me to divulge the information that I withheld.
"I was shocked. The next day I went and met him and his band mates, then they started playing a song together and asked me to improv. I had never heard the song before, so I just started watching their movements and playing off of that; by the end they asked if I was interested in joining their band, which I clearly said yes to." I exclaim, the interviewer's face looking shocked by what I just said.
"Wow, that all sounds like it went really fast?"
"Oh it was, we had only been playing for 20 minutes when they all stopped and asked me to join. I was going to say no because I needed to make enough money to send to Ronno, but when they mentioned how much I would make weekly I immediately accepted." I reply, chuckling as I remember my astonishment.
"I know after joining the Stones, your career skyrocketed, your solo albums have done well, and you write all your own songs?" They continue, motioning to my newest album sitting on their desk.
"Yes, my solo albums have done surprisingly well, and I write my own songs. I do accept and sing other songs sometimes, but I usually have a story told throughout my albums, and throwing in a random song messes that up." I explained.
"Did you and Mick Ronson keep in contact during this?" They question, looking at me in interest.
"Of course! In the beginning, Ronno and I called every week at the least, and we would send letters sometimes too!" I state ecstatically before calming myself down.
"How did that work? He was touring at the time right?" They ask in a befuddled way.
"Yes he was, but he would tell me the places he would be as well as the dates that he would be there, and I would do the same with him. It was a little complicated, but it was worth it." I reply, my hands waving as I mimic us writing letters.
"Honestly though, what would you send him that couldn't be said over the phone?" They ask after a few moments, laughing as their mind runs.
"Photos, drawings, songs, food-"
"Photos?" I can hear what they're implying, and I can't help but squint my face in disgust. The crowd's laughter magnified at my reaction.
"Stop thinking like that, you all have dirty minds! I would take pictures of me and the band, as well as the places around me. I loved drawing as well, so I would send him some, as well as some songs that I thought he would enjoy playing. Lastly, I knew he was getting food, but I knew it wasn't food he was used to, so I would bake him something, or buy him local snacks and ship them off to the correct address." I explain, describing the different things I would send him.
"Did he ask you to do any of this?"
"No, Ronno was never a complainer, he hated telling people his issues. I was usually the exception, but he prefers telling me in person as compared to over the phone or in a letter. He did enjoy them though, and he would send me songs and pictures as well. I remember him snapping a picture of his drummer scarfing down some cookies I made!" I jubilantly state, smirking as I remember that the picture is still hanging on my fridge.
"You sent him all these lovely things, what did he send you?"
"I never asked for anything more than a letter or a phone call, but he would send me these extravagant songs, asking me how I thought they sounded and if I liked them. He would also send me drawings - he's not really an artist, but he knows I love the little doodles he does randomly, so he started sending them to me." I grin, knowing Ronni will be embarrassed by me sharing this information.
"Was this an easier time in your life or would you consider it one of the more stressful?" Ah, here it comes, the questions I am most dreading.
"The fame and fortune made my financial issues about none, but socially I felt isolated. I had played in popular bands before, but never like this, I was only consistently around my band mates and the people that worked for them. I only really talked with Jagger and Keith, and then Keith randomly started hating me, so I was down to only talking to Jagger." I reply almost subconsciously, my mind wanting to distance itself from these memories.
"What about Ronson? I thought you said you had weekly phone calls and sent letters?" They ask in confusion.
"We did, but about 3 months into that, David started complaining to Ronno that he spent too much time talking to me, and that he was ignoring his band mates for someone he might never see again." The answer in a short tone, clearly still holding resentment for David's decision.
"David said that?" They say in shock.
"Yah, he said it straight to Ronno's face. We obviously didn't stop talking, we kept calling and messaging each other, but it lessened after that to about 1 call every 2 weeks. They became much longer phone calls though, he said that David was limiting his amount of calls, but stated that David couldn't limit his time, so we would end up talking through the entire night!" I smile on glee, our weak form of rebellion still makes my heart warm.
"We've talked about Ronson and his band mates reactions, but how did your bandmates react?" They continue, going down a different avenue.
"Well, everyone basically made fun of me and said we were in love. They told me to stop being so desperate because I was probably annoying Ronno, that remark actually made me start to overthink a lot. I started worrying that I was annoying him, and that he didn't like talking to me anymore. I think that's around the time I began to develop anxiety, I was already depressed, so that just added on to my plate." I responded before realizing I was over sharing on live TV.
"Did you tell Ronson about that? How did he react?" They gratefully kept moving right along, not leaving an awkward silence.
"Well, I never actually told him about that, I think this is the first time he's hearing this." I smile in discomfort, and an uncertain smile on my face.
"Really? You never spoke to him about any of this?" They ask in surprise, slightly taken aback.
"My anxiety had me thinking that saying a single word to him was annoying him, so no, I didn't just start talking about this to him. It was a really dark spot for me, the person to pull me through was Jagger actually. He noticed my extensive isolation, how I stopped eating around others, how I stopped talking. He really pulled through for me, which is probably why I'm still friends with him." I voice solemnly, deciding that I might as well be honest about the situation since there is no going back now.
"I know this is a heavy topic for you, I have some more questions, but if you're uncomfortable we can move on." Wish you had said that earlier, but oh well.
"Ask away, we can just skip the ones I'm uncomfortable with." I smile in response.
"Alright, what did Mick do? Did he just pull you aside and talk to you?"
"No actually, he wrote a song and asked if I would listen to it." I responded.
"What?" Perhaps I should rephrase my vague response.
"That's honestly what he did. But he wrote a song with true meaning, it was rather dark, and it actually made me cry and begin to hyperventilate. We were alone, so he just rushed over and helped calm me down; he didn't ask me any questions until I had completely relaxed." I explained honestly.
"What did he say exactly?" They continue.
"He just apologized, asking if I wanted to talk. I said no at first, but then he asked why I've been distancing myself from him and the band, why all the songs I was writing were either dark or sad.
I told him the truth, that I was depressed, that I felt so intensely alone, and that I could no longer talk to Ronno because I was probably annoying him." An uncomfortable shiver ran up my spine, reliving those memories makes me feel nauseous.
"How did he react to that? I can't really picture him being the best at giving advice and comfort." She smiles in a joking way, attempting to lighten the conversation.
"He was lovely, he hugged me like a giant teddy bear and told me that he would help me through this. We talked for a while, he asked me why I thought I was annoying Ronno, and I told him what the band had said to me." I answer, feeling a small smile appear at the memory of Mick comforting me.
"What did he say to that?"
"He told me that they were a bunch of single idiots who were jealous, and that I shouldn't ruin a meaningful relationship with my best friend by believing the words of immature drug addicts." I respond, barely withholding my laughter as I watch everyone's reaction.
"He said that?!" They nearly yell, everyone laughing at my answer.
"Yes, and the next day he told them all off for belittling me. During our talk he spoke to me about my isolation, I explained that I did that when I was sad or feeling out of place, and he asked what he could do to make me feel like a part of the team. He honestly made me cry a couple of times from how caring he was. Then he started talking about heavier subjects, such as why I wasn't eating during lunch breaks, why I never accepted snacks, and why I was noticeably losing weight." I state, realizing that I was now broaching the subject of my eating disorder.
"That must've been tough." They state seriously.
"It was, I realized at that moment, how much I missed Ronno. I asked Jagger if he wanted me to leave the band since I was such a problem, but he told me to stop being an idiot. The next day I was given a few sheepish apologies from my band mates, and Jagger became a very prominent person in my life from that day on." I explained.
"That's good. So Mick Jagger stepping up to help you must've put him pretty high on your list of friends right?"
"Yes, I only realized how much he was doing for me when he barged into my room during a depressive episode and all but shoved the phone into my hand. I distinctly remember him telling me not to come out until tomorrow morning. When I held the phone up, he had actually dialed up Ronno, who sounded very tired and confused, as well as concerned." I smile, these are the memories that I hold onto dearly.
"Really? How did he know what number to call?"
"I assume he went snooping around my desk, in one of my drawers was a paper with dates, addresses, and numbers. It was one of the sweetest things anybody had ever done for me." The look on my face was genuine, that was honestly one of the sweetest things anyone has done for me.
"I know you two are still good friends, but was there ever the possibility of anything more?" Oh boy, I hate it when they try to talk about this subject.
"I did find him to be attractive if that's what you're asking, but I was never in love with him. He did ask me out on a date and I had said yes, the date was lovely, but we got caught in a crowd of fans and he was like how he normally is. It made me remember how many groupies I'd seen leaving his room, and how many women I've seen smothered over him at all times, and it scared me away from ever allowing myself to love him." I reply sincerely.
"Could there have been something? If you hadn't cut it off?" They continue to push the topic.
"There could've been something eventually - from the despondent look on his face when I said I didn't want a relationship, I think he wanted us to become something more. I don't regret what I did, I like the friendship I have with him, the last thing I wanted to do was ruin it with his promiscuity and my need for loyalty. We've moved on though, I kind of see him as the older brother I never had." I reply, explaining my reasoning and the aftermath.
"Well, since that ship has definitely sunk, what about Ronson? Was there ever anything there?" They just won't give up will they?
"No... Well, there was one time in high school when we thought we should try dating, but that was spurred on by our teenage inability to understand that we loved each other, but not in that way. We realized that that wasn't us when we tried to act like a couple and both noticed that it felt forced. Ever since then we've been best friends." I state.
"Gosh, you're shooting down all of the fan favorites. Are you interested in anyone? Anyone at all?" They sound slightly exasperated, maybe I should throw them a bone.
"Hmmm... Maybe." I smile, a mischievous glint surely in my eye.
"What do you mean maybe? You can't leave the fans hanging like that!" I can tell that I have their genuine attention now.
"Well, ever since David and I have become friends, I've been... slightly interested in him." I say, jumping straight into the deep end.
"..." The silence could almost be described as palpable, it almost makes me want to laugh at how everyone is stunned into silence.
"Well, don't just stare at me." I laugh lightly.
"... I'm sorry, just processing. Does David know this?" They ask in hurried confusion.
"Well, if he's watching like he said he would, then he knows now." I laughed once again, but this time it had an air of uncertainty to it.
"Don't tell me you just confessed over live TV, in an interview no less!" They say in shock, looking at me with wide eyes.
"What can I say! If he likes me back then this has worked out great." I respond, grinning at their reaction.
"What if he doesn't!" Their response makes me shiver in discomfort at that possibility, but I respond in humor.
"Then I die of embarrassment, cut all ties, and become a hermit!" I state loudly.
"Oh don't do that Y/N! Only healthy reactions are allowed on this show." The crowd laughs lightly at our convo.
I'm about to respond, but my Motorola starts ringing in my bag. I look to the interviewer before quickly digging through my bag and pulling out the phone. I sheepishly glance at it, the audience having fallen silent at the interruption.
"Is it alright if I answer this? It might be important." I state, I know this sounds bad, but it could actually be important since I left my home and animals under the care of my neighbor.
"Of course, but you owe us one more question before you leave then." They respond, holding out their hand.
"Deal!" I agree, shaking their hand quickly.
"Hello, this is Y/N." I state in a professional tone, getting a funny look from the interviewer at my seriousness.
"Y/N darling!" I am thrown off by the happy and familiar tone.
"...David?!" I state in slight confusion, everyone seeming to lean in closer.
"...Yes?" He responds in the same tone, making fun of the way I responded.
"Why are you calling me? I'm in an interview." I explain, swiftly going back to my professional tone.
"Yes well, when someone confesses they are interested in dating you, I thought the first thing one should do is accept." He responds in a joking yet serious tone.
I'm silent for a few moments in surprise, did David just say he wants to date me too?
"Well, don't leave me without a response darling... Will you go on a date with me." His serious and self assured tone dwindled slightly, I can hear his uncertainty.
"Yes." My response was short, it was rushed and all I could muster with my amount of shock.
"Good, I'll pick you up after the interview, so I'll see you in a few minutes." He stated before hanging up.
I can't contain the overjoyed smile that spreads across my face, most certainly accompanied by a warm blush. The audience snickers as I clumsily put my phone away, then they start laughing as the interviewer stares at me with a smug grin.
"Who was that?" They ask tauntingly.
"Ohhh... no one." I try to brush it off, but I know no one is believing.
"Really! Does this no one happen to be named David Bowie?" They continue.
I avert my eyes in embarrassment, the audience laughing even louder as I sheepishly nod my head.
David Bowie: Kid Sister
Imagine living with your older brother, David Bowie, but running away when he chooses drugs over you:
Being David Bowie's younger sister is hard enough, but having to watch him destroy his life is near impossible.
He and I have quite the age difference, he's currently 27, whilst I am only 15, but he has taken on the role of both father and big brother. When he first took me in I was 11 and he was only 23, he had wanted to stop by and surprise us with a visit after being so busy with his latest album.
It's a long story how he ended up my legal guardian, but let's just say he walked in on our mother berating me, and witnessed her slapping me across the cheek. Needless to say, he was not pleased in the slightest and demanded a reason be given as to why I was slapped. Our mother gave no answer, instead only glaring at me with an even darker hatred than before.
She took a step towards me and I don't know what came over me, but I sprinted around her and into David, crying my eyes out as I hid behind him. I remember my small hands grasping the material of his sleeves, just wanting some feeling of love and acceptance. He seemed stunned, taking a few seconds to react to this; leaning down, he handed me his keys, telling me in a soft voice to go wait in his car. I nodded and went to open the front door when our mother decided to intervene.
"Not another step young lady." I froze in place, this was the harsh tone she used when I knew I was going to be punished and tormented for the rest of the week. Usually she doesn't do more than slap me, but with tone she doesn't hesitate to bring out the belt. I was so close to the door, but the fear that burned in my chest made me want to throw up. I wanted to get away, but what would happen to me if I took another step?
No one made any move, but I knew that this might be my only chance. Taking another step I hesitantly looked over my shoulder towards my mother. She was furious, I could almost say for certain that there was a red gleam in her eyes. She starts walking towards me, but before she can reach me, David moves between us.
"Get out of the way, David." Her tone is sharp, I'm surprised when David makes no movement in response, simply settling a glare upon her.
"She's coming with me and that is final." His sentence is almost growled out, and I can tell mother is just as taken aback as I am, stepping back slightly as her facial expression morphs into one of shock. Not another word is spoken as David turns, grabbing my shoulder as he walks us out of the front door and to his car.
The ride is a blur, I can't find myself focusing on anything other than the bleary stereo and the gray skies. I only come back to reality when he pulls up in-front of a fancy hotel, handing his keys to the valet before helping me out of the car. I glanced around in surprise, he's taken us to the nice side of town, everyone is wearing their nice clothes that I would usually only wear on Sunday for church. David releases a quiet giggle at seeing my look of awe, patting my shoulder as he leads me into the hotel.
I stay silent through the process, making sure to stay directly on David's side as he gets the room key and walks us into the elevator. David leans back against the wall and watches the numbers, but I take this time to observe him; after all, I haven't seen him in quite a while. He's grown his hair out a bit, longer than the last time I saw him, and his face looked almost angry even though it was neutral. Walking to our room he sits me down on the bed, sitting himself next to me with his hands folded in his lap; he seems hesitant, but I know why.
"Just ask me already." My voice is quiet, I cast my gaze downwards as I hear David swallow heavily.
"How long has she been treating you like that?" His question is spoken carefully, almost as though worried that I might break if he didn't pick every word precisely. I feel a small smile trying to form, it's odd, having someone be so gentle with me, especially after the years I've spent with my mother.
"... Ever since dad died." I didn't want to tell him why, mainly because our father's death hurt him a lot as well, but he was already out of the house when that happened; not having to deal with our mother during the aftermath. I don't blame him, in fact, I never wanted him to know, I hate being such a burden.
"Well, no one will ever hurt you again. I promise." His tone is a stark contrast to earlier, being stern and certain; not harsh, but strong and confident. I look to the side, meeting his gaze before pushing forward and hugging him tightly. His body goes rigid, clearly being surprised, but slowly steadying as he envelopes my weak form with his arms.
_______
Ever since that day, I lived with my brother, traveled with him, helped him with his music, etc. We shared a life in a way, but he always made sure that my education came first, hiring me private tutors everywhere we went. I had so much fun, being raised by him was much different than being raised by our mother. David was kind and gentle, only really getting stern when I blatantly went against our agreed upon rules; such as that one time I snuck out of our hotel and went backstage to one of his concerts.
Oh, he was pissed, we got into a bit of a row before stomping off in opposite directions. We avoided each other for the rest of the night and the following day, only talking during a midnight snack run-in. I apologized, I knew it was dangerous to sneak out to a concert where I might be recognized and swarmed by fans. I also told him my reasoning, having not seen him for more than a couple of minutes over the last few months due to the concerts and rehearsals, exclaiming that I just wanted to see him.
David also apologized for yelling at me, he hates yelling and felt really bad, to which I made sure he knew it was alright. He promised to try and spend more time with me, taking time out of the next day for us to go get lunch and ice cream.
We had a lot of fun, but we ended the night running away from a crowd of fans. One of them had managed to grab his sleeves, resulting in him losing his coat. I laughed at first until we finally got away. I observed his hunched over body as we heaved for breath, he was much skinnier than I thought. I hadn't really been paying attention, but I can tell when someone is underweight, and he kind of reminded me of a skeleton.
That was when I started to pay more attention to him, noticing how he'd been more withdrawn recently, spending most of his time reading or in his room. I noticed that he often sniffled, I thought he had a cold, but something about it struck me as odd. I continued watching over him for the next year or so, noticing that he never lost the sniffles for long, they would usually return after a prolonged trip to the bathroom. He also stopped eating a lot, he used to love my occasional cooking and our random jaunts to restaurants, but that all suddenly stopped.
I finally said 'fuck his privacy', searching through his bags after he'd gone to sleep. I found a bag full of white powder, and I'm no idiot, this isn't fucking flour, it's cocaine. All the signs I've noticed now make sense, but that really does fuck all for me. What can I do now? I can't tell him I know, cause then he'll ask how I know. I just need to make sure he doesn't kill himself by accident.
_______
I softly knocked on David's door. He has an interview soon, yet he hasn't left his room all day. I'm really worried about him.
"What do you want!" His voice is rough and sharp, I jump slightly. He's recently taken to shouting at me whenever I do anything, and it scares the living daylights out of me; I know I shouldn't be scared of him, but it reminds me of mom. Anytime she yelled, I knew the day had gone from bad to worse.
"David... You have an interview soon, your people said it was in 15 minutes and that you should be heading out soon." My voice is higher in pitch, that only happens when I'm dreadfully aware of my surroundings. The places we stay in are nice still, but that homey vibe that used to accompany David has long gone.
The door creaks open, the room is dark, like the curtains have been pulled and all the lights smothered. His face is pale, sickly shining in the sterile lighting of the hall. The most haunting look is his eyes, they are so empty, he just stares at me with this dull look as though not even seeing me. David has been like this for a few weeks now, gradually refusing to acknowledge my presence to the point of convincing me I might not actually exist.
It hurts a lot, knowing the person you love and look up to sees you as nothing, but I still push forward.
He pushes the door open wider and walks past me, already dressed up in his suit and dragging along a cane.
"David... David!" He walked into the living room before turning to me, his eyes seemingly set ablaze.
"What." His tone is sharp with agitation, the short response making me feel uncomfortable.
"I... I was wondering...if-" My hesitant words get cut off as David glares at me.
"Hurry up and say it already!" He raises his voice, I can tell he's holding back from shouting at me.
"I just... David, I know." I don't know how else to word it, I just know that I need to confront him on his drug abuse.
"You know? Know what?" He actually seems generally confused, oh how his senses have been dulled.
"I know... I know about the drugs." The last half of my sentence is whispered, but his immediate rigidity alerts me that he heard me loud and clear. I finally look up to his face, and somehow he's become even paler; so gaunt I fear he may faint.
"H-How do you know about that?" For the first time in a while he sounds vulnerable, maybe even a little scared. There's no going back now, I have to tell him the truth and hope he sees reason.
"I looked through your bag a while ago and found it, please don't be mad!" There was a lilt in my voice, but it wasn't pleasant to hear, it more emphasized my worry at how this situation could unfold, and the next movements would only solidify that worry.
"How dare you." It had been silent for about a minute, so his stern toned sentence caught me slightly off guard.
"What?"
"Don't bring up matters that are none of your business!" Talking to him is like riding a roller coaster, one second he responds calmly, the next he's shouting your ear off. I actually stumble backwards, somewhat in shock due to the pure aggression and loathing he conveyed through his tone. The shout resonated in my head for a few moments before I forced myself to talk, my courage beginning to run thin.
"But David! Surely you can see that you're addicted-" My voice is soaked with concern, I love him so much, and this self-destructive behavior of his is hurting me as well. I'm about to continue but he steps forward and roughly shoves me back against the hotel wall.
"I'm not addicted! It is just a hobby!" The unbridled rage flows through his eyes, I see him raising his hand, but the rest is unknown because I shut my eyes tightly and turned away. I held my breath for a few seconds, awaiting the onslaught of abuse, but after being met with none I decided to maybe open my eyes.
The view I'm met with is pitiful almost, David is simply staring at me in shock, my arms still up to block any hits. I begin to breathe again, slowly lowering my arms as I watch his eyes well with tears.
"Y/.. Y/N, why did you do that?" I stare at him wearily, I thought he was going to hit me, I don't trust him anymore.
"You know why." I state solemnly, my voice but a whisper in the quiet hall.
"I would never!" He shouts back defensively, causing me to flinch away again.
He backs up frantically, he's about to say something before someone starts slamming on the door, hurriedly stating a message.
"Mr. Jones, your interview is in 5 minutes! We need to leave sir!" David stills for a moment before turning away. He straightens his suit and smooths his hair before grabbing his cane and walking to the door. As he's reaching for the handle he turns back to me, that same empty look having embodied him again.
"We'll talk about this when I get back." He's so cold, that's the coldest he's ever spoken to me, and I don't think I can take it anymore. Nodding my head, David leaves without another glance, a heavy feeling settling in my chest as I can feel the tears streaming down my face. I wipe them away quickly, the torn sleeve of my shirt dragging across my skin.
I can't stay here anymore, the way he spoke, what he did, how he left... He's chosen, and he didn't pick me. I should leave now, while he's gone. I stumble to my room, my legs apparently being a little wobbly after that interaction.
I pull out my backpack, shoving in clothes as well as my pen and notebook, packing my tooth brush/paste, combs, and moisturizer. I have to pack light, if the crew sees me heading out with a suitcase they will surely stop me from leaving, and I don't need David knowing that I was trying to run away... I worry to think what he would do to me.
I tear off my shirt and jeans and shove on a clean pair, wrapping my large jacket around my shivering frame, slipping on some insulated sweatpants as well. What can I say, it's December in New York City, I'm going to be cold as it is, no need to be freezing. I let my hair down to block my face, shoving on my boots before taking one last glance around.
Taking in my surroundings, I close my eyes and say a silent goodbye to David before grabbing my belongings and leaving.
Rockstar: Your Story(Interview)
You're a famous rock star being interviewed about the beginning of your career to the current (includes mentions of Mick Ronson, David Bowie, and Mick Jagger):
"Ma'am, can you tell us a little bit about when you first met David Bowie?" The question was so sudden that I could only scrunch my eyebrows at it. I expected David to be brought up sometime, but I didn't expect the first question to be about him.
"Sure, let's see.... I can't remember the exact date, but my dear friend - Mick Ronson - had called me up saying some band was interested in having us as guitar players. I was hesitant because I enjoyed my job as an architect, but something pushed me to go with him; we hopped on the next train to London and did the audition." I explain, tilting my head up at the memories resurfacing. Ronno had been unsure as well, but I'm glad we went.
"We heard it wasn't a pleasant experience? What happened?" They emphasize 'wasn't', clearly looking for some juicy gossip on Bowie, and who am I to disappoint.
"Well, David had accepted Mick but rejected me, and Ronno originally turned down the offer because of that. He didn't even tell me the truth, just grabbed me by the arm and lugged me as well as the guitars out of the building. I knew it hadn't gone well because he had this angry glare in his eyes, which is strange, because if you've ever met him, then you'd know he's rather sweet, and has a very discerning disposition.
I asked what was wrong and he just said that they didn't want us. I knew he was lying, but I didn't want to argue with him. We spent the rest of the time wandering around London sightseeing." I state, folding my hands up in my lap as I look at the interviewer. I don't like looking back to the '70s, a lot of stuff happened, and I fear what they will bring up.
"What happened after that?" The interviewer continues hastily digging, wanting more information. I guess this person isn't going to quit until they get the full story.
"We had stopped by a restaurant and were having lunch. Ronno was saying we should catch the train home after, but we were interrupted by David. I don't know how he found us, I just remember being shocked when he started begging Ronno to join his band. I was also a little confused, and I remember saying, 'I thought you didn't want us?'
To which David responded, 'No, I want him, I just don't want you.' That line had run through my head the following 3 years until I realized how lucky I was David didn't want me." I say the last few sentences in a softer voice, not liking to relive that particular memory.
"He said what?!" The interviewer over exaggerates their movements, getting the audience laughing just as they had hoped. I laugh a little too, David saying something so rude does seem rather uncharacteristic.
"Yah, I was rather astonished as well because the words left him in such a casual way, as if choosing what bread to buy at the market." I say, gently chuckling at the visual of David buying bread in such a critical way.
"What- How, how did Mick react to that." Their eyes widen, the crowd quiets down as they await my answer.
"Oh, he almost punched David! But I grabbed him and pulled him aside, asking why he lied and all that stuff." I respond, remembering the beautiful anger that he so desperately wanted to act on.
"I bet the last thing you wanted was for him to join David's band, right?" The interviewer asks the question humorously.
"That's... Wrong actually. He was vehemently against playing in a band without me, this is mainly due to the fact that ever since we were 12, we've always played together. But, I wanted him to take the opportunity, to show the world his ability, and to be able to be a confident player without me." I explain in a gentle voice, vaguely thinking of how self-conscious he was at the time when it came to him playing guitar.
"You seem to be a really supportive friend, (Y/N)." The tone of their voice turns genuine, the whole conversation losing the humorous quality that had been sustained.
"I try to be, the last thing I want is for people's failings or regrets to be because of me." I smile, my relieved guilt ebbing away as I think of where he and I are now.
"As well as being supportive, you also seem to be fairly protective, at least, that's what I got when Mick told us the story of you traumatizing his high school bully! With that in mind, how did you feel when you learned he was earning next to nothing during the tour?" The beginning of the sentence sent the interviewer and audience into a bit of a laugh, I laugh as well at the memory of scaring off Ronno's bully.
The laughter lightly quiets down to a more serious tone at the end discussion.
"I was appalled! I hated myself for a while because of that, because I pushed him into this situation where he was barely getting paid. Which was the opposite of what I thought would happen, especially after their popularity went through the roof!"I exclaimed, my eyes widening as I relived the shock; the ebbing guilt rushing forward tenfold.
"I heard you went to some extreme measures in order to help him out, what exactly did you do?" The interviewer goes on, the questions digging into lesser known information.
"Well, I joined any band I could, I would try and get hired by restaurants for live music during nights, and then during the day I had a job as a waitress as well as working part time as a lyricist." I explain, just saying that makes me remember how tiring my schedule was back then.
"Now that's a lot to juggle, and I'm sure you have some great stories from those days, but we have a specific story. What happened during one of your many tiring nights of live music?" They ask, this question is sort of a bore to me, one I'm frequently asked to retell.
"I had been band hopping at the time, and was hired for a gig when I didn't have a supportive group, so I improvised. I played my guitar and was singing live, but before that I had recorded the drums and rhythm guitar parts for the songs I was scheduled to play, so when I got up there I just started the recording and played along.
This was for a club where they wanted rock, so it was heavier playing. It was during my guitar solo I noticed someone in the crowd." I divulged, deciding to add in some information I had never shared before.
"Ooh, is this when you met the Rolling Stones?!" Someone screams out, the crowd and interviewer looking in shock before they all burst out laughing at the person's eagerness.
"Yes... but I technically only met Mick Jagger that night. I wasn't a big fan of the Rolling Stones at the time, but I did have an appreciation for their music. I was actually playing one of their songs at the time. Either way, it just surprised me to see him." I continued after we had all calmed down.
"I know you joined their band after that, but can you tell us what exactly went down?" I squint slightly at my interviewer's vernacular before deciding to just answer them.
"I don't think I can tell you all the details, I worry J might get embarrassed! But, I can tell you that he met me backstage after I was done and asked me if I was available tomorrow to meet him at a recording studio. It was the weekend the next day, so I said yes, he wrote down the address and time on a piece of paper, handed it to me, then said goodbye and walked away." I state in a jovial tone, Jagger is one of my favorite people to talk about, because he loves to call immediately after the interview and schedule a meet up. He's strange like that.
"Sounds strange? How did you feel after that?" They looked intrigued, clearly wanting me to divulge the information that I withheld.
"I was shocked. The next day I went and met him and his band mates, then they started playing a song together and asked me to improv. I had never heard the song before, so I just started watching their movements and playing off of that; by the end they asked if I was interested in joining their band, which I clearly said yes to." I exclaim, the interviewer's face looking shocked by what I just said.
"Wow, that all sounds like it went really fast?"
"Oh it was, we had only been playing for 20 minutes when they all stopped and asked me to join. I was going to say no because I needed to make enough money to send to Ronno, but when they mentioned how much I would make weekly I immediately accepted." I reply, chuckling as I remember my astonishment.
"I know after joining the Stones, your career skyrocketed, your solo albums have done well, and you write all your own songs?" They continue, motioning to my newest album sitting on their desk.
"Yes, my solo albums have done surprisingly well, and I write my own songs. I do accept and sing other songs sometimes, but I usually have a story told throughout my albums, and throwing in a random song messes that up." I explained.
"Did you and Mick Ronson keep in contact during this?" They question, looking at me in interest.
"Of course! In the beginning, Ronno and I called every week at the least, and we would send letters sometimes too!" I state ecstatically before calming myself down.
"How did that work? He was touring at the time right?" They ask in a befuddled way.
"Yes he was, but he would tell me the places he would be as well as the dates that he would be there, and I would do the same with him. It was a little complicated, but it was worth it." I reply, my hands waving as I mimic us writing letters.
"Honestly though, what would you send him that couldn't be said over the phone?" They ask after a few moments, laughing as their mind runs.
"Photos, drawings, songs, food-"
"Photos?" I can hear what they're implying, and I can't help but squint my face in disgust. The crowd's laughter magnified at my reaction.
"Stop thinking like that, you all have dirty minds! I would take pictures of me and the band, as well as the places around me. I loved drawing as well, so I would send him some, as well as some songs that I thought he would enjoy playing. Lastly, I knew he was getting food, but I knew it wasn't food he was used to, so I would bake him something, or buy him local snacks and ship them off to the correct address." I explain, describing the different things I would send him.
"Did he ask you to do any of this?"
"No, Ronno was never a complainer, he hated telling people his issues. I was usually the exception, but he prefers telling me in person as compared to over the phone or in a letter. He did enjoy them though, and he would send me songs and pictures as well. I remember him snapping a picture of his drummer scarfing down some cookies I made!" I jubilantly state, smirking as I remember that the picture is still hanging on my fridge.
"You sent him all these lovely things, what did he send you?"
"I never asked for anything more than a letter or a phone call, but he would send me these extravagant songs, asking me how I thought they sounded and if I liked them. He would also send me drawings - he's not really an artist, but he knows I love the little doodles he does randomly, so he started sending them to me." I grin, knowing Ronni will be embarrassed by me sharing this information.
"Was this an easier time in your life or would you consider it one of the more stressful?" Ah, here it comes, the questions I am most dreading.
"The fame and fortune made my financial issues about none, but socially I felt isolated. I had played in popular bands before, but never like this, I was only consistently around my band mates and the people that worked for them. I only really talked with Jagger and Keith, and then Keith randomly started hating me, so I was down to only talking to Jagger." I reply almost subconsciously, my mind wanting to distance itself from these memories.
"What about Ronson? I thought you said you had weekly phone calls and sent letters?" They ask in confusion.
"We did, but about 3 months into that, David started complaining to Ronno that he spent too much time talking to me, and that he was ignoring his band mates for someone he might never see again." The answer in a short tone, clearly still holding resentment for David's decision.
"David said that?" They say in shock.
"Yah, he said it straight to Ronno's face. We obviously didn't stop talking, we kept calling and messaging each other, but it lessened after that to about 1 call every 2 weeks. They became much longer phone calls though, he said that David was limiting his amount of calls, but stated that David couldn't limit his time, so we would end up talking through the entire night!" I smile on glee, our weak form of rebellion still makes my heart warm.
"We've talked about Ronson and his band mates reactions, but how did your bandmates react?" They continue, going down a different avenue.
"Well, everyone basically made fun of me and said we were in love. They told me to stop being so desperate because I was probably annoying Ronno, that remark actually made me start to overthink a lot. I started worrying that I was annoying him, and that he didn't like talking to me anymore. I think that's around the time I began to develop anxiety, I was already depressed, so that just added on to my plate." I responded before realizing I was over sharing on live TV.
"Did you tell Ronson about that? How did he react?" They gratefully kept moving right along, not leaving an awkward silence.
"Well, I never actually told him about that, I think this is the first time he's hearing this." I smile in discomfort, and an uncertain smile on my face.
"Really? You never spoke to him about any of this?" They ask in surprise, slightly taken aback.
"My anxiety had me thinking that saying a single word to him was annoying him, so no, I didn't just start talking about this to him. It was a really dark spot for me, the person to pull me through was Jagger actually. He noticed my extensive isolation, how I stopped eating around others, how I stopped talking. He really pulled through for me, which is probably why I'm still friends with him." I voice solemnly, deciding that I might as well be honest about the situation since there is no going back now.
"I know this is a heavy topic for you, I have some more questions, but if you're uncomfortable we can move on." Wish you had said that earlier, but oh well.
"Ask away, we can just skip the ones I'm uncomfortable with." I smile in response.
"Alright, what did Mick do? Did he just pull you aside and talk to you?"
"No actually, he wrote a song and asked if I would listen to it." I responded.
"What?" Perhaps I should rephrase my vague response.
"That's honestly what he did. But he wrote a song with true meaning, it was rather dark, and it actually made me cry and begin to hyperventilate. We were alone, so he just rushed over and helped calm me down; he didn't ask me any questions until I had completely relaxed." I explained honestly.
"What did he say exactly?" They continue.
"He just apologized, asking if I wanted to talk. I said no at first, but then he asked why I've been distancing myself from him and the band, why all the songs I was writing were either dark or sad.
I told him the truth, that I was depressed, that I felt so intensely alone, and that I could no longer talk to Ronno because I was probably annoying him." An uncomfortable shiver ran up my spine, reliving those memories makes me feel nauseous.
"How did he react to that? I can't really picture him being the best at giving advice and comfort." She smiles in a joking way, attempting to lighten the conversation.
"He was lovely, he hugged me like a giant teddy bear and told me that he would help me through this. We talked for a while, he asked me why I thought I was annoying Ronno, and I told him what the band had said to me." I answer, feeling a small smile appear at the memory of Mick comforting me.
"What did he say to that?"
"He told me that they were a bunch of single idiots who were jealous, and that I shouldn't ruin a meaningful relationship with my best friend by believing the words of immature drug addicts." I respond, barely withholding my laughter as I watch everyone's reaction.
"He said that?!" They nearly yell, everyone laughing at my answer.
"Yes, and the next day he told them all off for belittling me. During our talk he spoke to me about my isolation, I explained that I did that when I was sad or feeling out of place, and he asked what he could do to make me feel like a part of the team. He honestly made me cry a couple of times from how caring he was. Then he started talking about heavier subjects, such as why I wasn't eating during lunch breaks, why I never accepted snacks, and why I was noticeably losing weight." I state, realizing that I was now broaching the subject of my eating disorder.
"That must've been tough." They state seriously.
"It was, I realized at that moment, how much I missed Ronno. I asked Jagger if he wanted me to leave the band since I was such a problem, but he told me to stop being an idiot. The next day I was given a few sheepish apologies from my band mates, and Jagger became a very prominent person in my life from that day on." I explained.
"That's good. So Mick Jagger stepping up to help you must've put him pretty high on your list of friends right?"
"Yes, I only realized how much he was doing for me when he barged into my room during a depressive episode and all but shoved the phone into my hand. I distinctly remember him telling me not to come out until tomorrow morning. When I held the phone up, he had actually dialed up Ronno, who sounded very tired and confused, as well as concerned." I smile, these are the memories that I hold onto dearly.
"Really? How did he know what number to call?"
"I assume he went snooping around my desk, in one of my drawers was a paper with dates, addresses, and numbers. It was one of the sweetest things anybody had ever done for me." The look on my face was genuine, that was honestly one of the sweetest things anyone has done for me.
"I know you two are still good friends, but was there ever the possibility of anything more?" Oh boy, I hate it when they try to talk about this subject.
"I did find him to be attractive if that's what you're asking, but I was never in love with him. He did ask me out on a date and I had said yes, the date was lovely, but we got caught in a crowd of fans and he was like how he normally is. It made me remember how many groupies I'd seen leaving his room, and how many women I've seen smothered over him at all times, and it scared me away from ever allowing myself to love him." I reply sincerely.
"Could there have been something? If you hadn't cut it off?" They continue to push the topic.
"There could've been something eventually - from the despondent look on his face when I said I didn't want a relationship, I think he wanted us to become something more. I don't regret what I did, I like the friendship I have with him, the last thing I wanted to do was ruin it with his promiscuity and my need for loyalty. We've moved on though, I kind of see him as the older brother I never had." I reply, explaining my reasoning and the aftermath.
"Well, since that ship has definitely sunk, what about Ronson? Was there ever anything there?" They just won't give up will they?
"No... Well, there was one time in high school when we thought we should try dating, but that was spurred on by our teenage inability to understand that we loved each other, but not in that way. We realized that that wasn't us when we tried to act like a couple and both noticed that it felt forced. Ever since then we've been best friends." I state.
"Gosh, you're shooting down all of the fan favorites. Are you interested in anyone? Anyone at all?" They sound slightly exasperated, maybe I should throw them a bone.
"Hmmm... Maybe." I smile, a mischievous glint surely in my eye.
"What do you mean maybe? You can't leave the fans hanging like that!" I can tell that I have their genuine attention now.
"Well, ever since David and I have become friends, I've been... slightly interested in him." I say, jumping straight into the deep end.
"..." The silence could almost be described as palpable, it almost makes me want to laugh at how everyone is stunned into silence.
"Well, don't just stare at me." I laugh lightly.
"... I'm sorry, just processing. Does David know this?" They ask in hurried confusion.
"Well, if he's watching like he said he would, then he knows now." I laughed once again, but this time it had an air of uncertainty to it.
"Don't tell me you just confessed over live TV, in an interview no less!" They say in shock, looking at me with wide eyes.
"What if he doesn't reciprocate!" Their response makes me shiver in discomfort at that possibility, but I respond in humor.
"Then I die of embarrassment, cut all ties, and become a hermit!" I state loudly.
"Oh don't do that Y/N! Only healthy reactions are allowed on this show." The crowd laughs lightly at our convo.
I'm about to respond, but my Motorola starts ringing in my bag. I look to the interviewer before quickly digging through my bag and pulling out the phone. I sheepishly glance at it, the audience having fallen silent at the interruption.
"Is it alright if I answer this? It might be important." I state, I know this sounds bad, but it could actually be important since I left my home and animals under the care of my neighbor.
"Of course, but you owe us one more question before you leave then." They respond, holding out their hand.
"Deal!" I agree, shaking their hand quickly.
"Hello, this is Y/N." I state in a professional tone, getting a funny look from the interviewer at my seriousness.
"Y/N darling!" I am thrown off by the happy and familiar tone.
"...David?!" I state in slight confusion, everyone seeming to lean in closer.
"...Yes?" He responds in the same tone, making fun of the way I responded.
"Why are you calling me? I'm in an interview." I explain, swiftly going back to my professional tone.
"Yes well, when someone confesses they are interested in dating you, I thought the first thing one should do is accept." He responds in a joking yet serious tone.
I'm silent for a few moments in surprise, did David just say he wants to date me too?
"Well, don't leave me without a response darling... Will you go on a date with me?" His serious and self assured tone dwindled slightly, I can hear his uncertainty.
"Yes." My response was short, it was rushed and all I could muster with my amount of shock.
"Good, I'll pick you up after the interview, so I'll see you in a few minutes." He stated before hanging up.
I can't contain the overjoyed smile that spreads across my face, most certainly accompanied by a warm blush. The audience snickers as I clumsily put my phone away, then they start laughing as the interviewer stares at me with a smug grin.
"Who was that?" They ask tauntingly.
"Ohhh... no one." I try to brush it off, but I know no one is believing.
"Really! Does this no one happen to be named David Bowie?" They continue.
I avert my eyes in embarrassment, the audience laughing even louder as I sheepishly nod my head.