16 - After the Glitter Fades

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This chapter contains some possibly triggering material of the domestic violence nature, so here's a warning for those of you who may be sensitive to such a theme. Please read at your own risk, 18+

~

Friday, April 12th, 1980. 1:37 am

"No! You leave her alone!" I whimpered, beating my fists on any part of him I could reach. I was suddenly shoved aside, my body barreling straight into the wall.

"SHUT UP." Hot tears streamed down my face as I watched him beat my mother, it felt as though it would never end. The fighting wasn't new, the screaming was painful and old, being terrified of the night became only natural. No amount of yelling, of begging him to stop would make his hands yield. The only thing I could ever do was cower in a corner, waiting for him to fill the need for violence that surged through his being so viciously. Only then could I return to her side, balming the hurt, mending what I could. Lord only knows how much a three-year-old was capable of...

A hand shook me from my nightmare.

"Astoria? Astoria honey it's alright. You're safe..." Warm arms were wrapped around me, holding me close. It's dark still, it must be the middle of the night. My eyes frantically moved around, bracing for a foreboding figure to come out from the shadows. Nothing happened though. I gripped the person who held me like a lifeline, their shirt was crinkled between my fingers on their back. My forehead rested against their sternum as I tried to gulp in air, but it wasn't working. A hand gently rubbed my back, somewhat pulling me out of my dream-induced anxiety attack.

I haven't dreamt about him in such a long time, it hit me like a ton of bricks—taking my breath away. I began having trouble discerning what was real in this moment, and what was my imagination pulling pranks on me. My breath quickened again, but that soothing voice lulled in my ear, trying to bring me back.

"Shh, it's ok. I'm here, Astoria. It was just a bad dream, a nightmare." I shut my eyes, tightly while trying to hold onto that voice. I held onto the warmth for dear life. My hands clawed desperately at the individual. My voice became lodged in my throat as I tried to speak. All that came out was hoarse gasps, sounding like I had just come up for air after holding my breath underwater for a touch too long. The voice broke and began to fade as it spoke again in my ear, "It's just a nightmare. Just a nightmare..."

No! Don't go away!

"I'm not leaving," The voice told me. Something began running through my hair and I flinched, making the movement pause briefly. After a long silence, my thoughts travelled back to me. Reality slapped back into place, and my breathing started becoming easier. My forehead detached from the individual's sternum, and I looked up at my savior—my knight in a white t-shirt. Michael. "You're better now?" He asked me quietly. Something new shown in his eyes, those deep orbs capturing my attention in the dark. I couldn't figure out what it was. Concern? Heartbreak? Relief? Care? Maybe it was all of these. I nodded once.

My face felt unbelievably hot, and sticky too. What happened? I'd been crying, hadn't I? My fingers found my face; yes, I'd been crying. Realization hit.

He's going to want to know now. I can't tell him this, he couldn't understand. He wouldn't understand.

Panic resumed inside me, but it must have been evident on my face because Michael grabbed both my shoulders and made me look at him.

"Astoria Renè, look at me." I looked at him, wishing he hadn't had to have seen this mess I've made of myself. "Talk to me, please." He begged. I couldn't resist him.

"I'm sorry."

"No, don't be sorry." Michael's voice was sincere, but stern. He wanted to know what had brought all this on, I knew. We'd been sharing my bed every night since he arrived, and nothing like this had happened before. This whole week has been heaven, and I had to go and ruin it... Letting go of my shoulders, he lovingly held both my hands in his. Mine were cold and clammy, his are large, warm, and my fingertips found calluses on his palms. He's real. This moment is real.

"This has all been wonderful, and I ruined it." Hot tears began to cascade down my cheeks like they had done earlier and so many years ago, they used to fall every night. Looking back at it, I've wondered how I could have cried that much and still had enough tears to shed now... One of his hands caressed my face, gently rubbing away tears.

"You didn't ruin our week together," His lips kissed my feverish forehead, "You didn't do anything wrong, do you understand?" I blubbered, trying to say something in response, but failing. He simply pulled me close and rubbed my back soothingly. "You didn't ruin anything, darling."

My heart clenched. If I was going to tell him what was haunting me so vehemently, I might as well try and find my voice now. Get it all out in the open... but part of me didn't want to tell him the horrors of my past, my childhood. I felt he wouldn't understand, or that he'd become disgusted once he knew the truth. My breath was now calmer as I focused on his fingertips gently running up and down my back, the touch felt so soothing.

"I dreamt about my parents." I whispered. His hands stopped moving at the end of my sentence, making my nerves rise.

"Your parents?" He asked me carefully, knowing whatever subject I dreamt about would be one to tread lightly on. My eyes met his in the dark, now that they had adjusted just enough after crying.

"Yes, my parents." I answered solemnly.

"You've never brought them up before..." He's right, I've never told him anything about them before. And for good reason. They weren't like regular parents that were simply embarrassing, no. I adored both my parents, even though--

"I haven't brought them up because they haven't been worth bringing up, Michael. I haven't seen my father in years..." I glanced away, not wanting to say much more. I didn't want to think about him, he's rotting in jail somewhere that's all I care to know about the situation. He deserves to be there too. The way I emphasized 'father' must have caught his attention by the way he looked at me.

"You're father... He wasn't a good man, was he?" He'd hit the nail on the head, almost certainly. I let go of Michael and sat up in my bed, bringing my knees to my chest and wrapping my arms around them. Michael moved to sit up next to me, his legs crossed one over the other. I looked straight ahead of me at the mirror that hung on the opposite wall, glaring hard at it. My eyes became slits as my mind drifted back to the memories I thought I had long left my subconscious.

"He was fine, but he enjoyed drinking." I shrugged as a bitter feeling consumed my being like a shadow. I twisted my head in Michael's direction, fire blazing in my eyes from the memories flickering in and out of my thoughts. "But he drank. Every. Night." My body felt like it was going to explode. I saw out of my peripheral vision a hand reach towards me, and I flinched away out of instinct. His hand stopped in midair and stayed there momentarily, before dropping back to his lap. A wave of disappointment washed over me.

You made him do that. You're ruining it, just like you ruined--

"Shut up, SHUT UP." I yelled, gripping my head. This night was officially awful, horrendous. I've messed everything up and he's going to leave and never come back, nice going. I rocked myself back and forth, tears falling again as I did so. Nothing can make this better, absolutely nothing.

Warm arms wrapped around me again, surprising every cell in my being.

He cares. He actually cares. No one has even stayed after I told them, and I haven't even told him that much.

His lips pressed to my temple, making me let out a shaky breath.

"You're so kind. I don't understand." I said more to myself than to him. I felt his forehead press against the side of my head, hearing his take in a breath.

"I love you, nothing can change that now. You're etched on my soul, Astoria. I thought you knew." He smiled bittersweetly. I knew it must be killing him to see me like this, he'd told me once before when I cut my finger a little too well once, that he wanted to cry with me right before it was numbed for stitches. I let go of my knees, turning my head so our faces were in front of each other. One hand cupped his warm cheek, but I felt something wet.

"Are you crying, Michael?" He sniffed after I asked him, giving himself away. He's never been good at keeping secrets.

"Yeah, I am."

"But why?" I felt so confused at his sadness, it made no sense to me.

"Because, someone hurt you." He paused, wiping under his nose with his arm. "I want to make your pain go away, but I don't know how. I can't go back in time, but I would for you. You flinched away from me mere moments ago. You've never done that before..." 

I looked at him. I mean, I really looked. He was feeling my pain in some magical way in this moment, and I felt closer to him than I ever have before. I'd bared my soul without knowing it. He's looking straight at my greatest pain, my greatest secret. Something stirred within me as I gazed at him, it's not desire, it's not lust, it's...

Is it love?

"When my father drank, he would beat my mother. I'd always try and stop him, but I couldn't. I was too small, always. He never really hurt me, it wasn't his intention anyway I don't think." I watched silent tears fall down Michael's cheeks as I told him everything. I told him that one night it was so horrible that the neighbors had called 911 because they were scared for my mother and I. My father was taken away that night to jail, he was convicted about two weeks later. Jail was where he still resided as far as I knew, I don't care to know if he's still there or not. If he's still alive either, I don't want to know. It's best to keep that hatchet buried.

"What happened to your Mother?" His voice cracked, but his grip was strong and comforting as he held my hand. 

"She died. She had a bleed in her brain from that night, and it wasn't caught by the doctors. She passed away about three days later." I let out a breath and continued, "I thankfully got put into my grandparents' custody, my father's parents believe it or not. They were wonderful, absolutely wonderful. But eventually they passed away as well, leaving me on my own." I shrugged my shoulders, watching his thumb rub circles on the back of my hand. 

"I'm so sorry, I had no idea."

"How could you have known? I've learned to hide it quite well over the years." I removed my hand from his and scooted closer, his arms opened instinctively and enveloped me. A small sigh escaped my lips as his warmth creeped up around me.

This is where you belong, in his arms. Forever, maybe?

His lips pressed against my hair. I felt our collective weight shift as he moved us into a position so we were lying down on the bed again.

"I love you." He spoke into my ear, but I dared not say it back. I'm not ready. Instead, I twisted around in his thin arms so we faced each other and kissed his lips. 


Wednesday, November 19th, 1980

Pop! Pop! Crackle!

"Hey, Tom! Do you want some Pop Rocks?" I asked, leaning the open bag of strawberry-flavored Pop Rocks towards him waving it enticingly. He shook his head and made a face at first. I shrugged and was about to turn away, but I saw his hand make a beeline to my bag of candy. My lips curled upwards, looking at him like he was a naughty child with his hand in the cookie jar.

"What?"

"Nothing." I began to chuckle, he looked so taken aback right now. "Tom Petty likes Pop Rocks... Who knew?" Grinning at him, he just waved his hand through the air in my direction. Tilting his head back quickly, he downed the handful of popping candy. I went back to staring at my spiral notebook. The words I'd previously written glared up at me from the page, taunting me.

"How're you doing, Astoria?" I looked up finding Stevie sitting in front of me, our eyes meeting. I had a spiral notebook in my hand and written on the exposed page were some lyrics I'd written the first weekend after I'd moved up to Washington. It was the beginning of something, but I couldn't finish it. I've tried but to no avail, the words just wouldn't come to me. I watched her eyes flash down to the page then back up to mine. "Can I see your lyrics?"

I nodded earnestly and handed her the notebook. Her brown eyes scanned my penmanship, beginning to look excited. We'd began working on her album in late September and though it was coming along nicely, we still clearly had a length of time ahead of us before it will be 100% finished. Stevie looked up from the notebook slowly, her mouth slightly agape. My brain ran through what I had written on the lined page...

Well, I never thought I'd make it

Here in Hollywood...

I never thought I'd ever

Want to stay...

What I seem to touch these days

Has turned to gold...

What I seem to want

Well, you know I'll find a way...

"This is great, do you know that?" I shrugged at her praise.

"That doesn't matter. I can't think of anything else to go with it, and it's been months since I wrote what you just read." Stevie scoffed at me.

"I can think of something right now! Listen," She began to sing my lyrics softly. The words rose into the air, sounding ethereal as they flowed past her lips. "...What I seem to want, well, you know I'll find a way. For me it's the only life that I've ever know..." She paused. "Um, how about: and love is only one fine star away, after that part?"

"I love it." My voice became soft, realizing we were writing together right now. Amazing. We continued to sit across from each other, taking turns singing out the lyrics as we figured out the song together. This was a moment I knew I wasn't about to forget soon, I knew I'd hold onto this for forever. This was my first song that would be put on an album that my name would be printed directly under the title.

After the Glitter Fades

Written By Stevie Nicks and Astoria Briggs

I already knew I would insist for her name to be first on the credits, because without Stevie it wouldn't be a complete song. I wanted to cry tears of joy as I watched Stevie sing the fifth take of the song. It was perfect. The song had morphed into carrying a country vibe and I slowly became ok with that, though I had originally envisioned the song to be a bit of a power ballad. Disappointment couldn't bring me down right now because I had none to spare.

Just wait until we tour...


Later that evening...

I had the hotel phone in my hand as I dialed a number, I knew the digits all too well. Putting the phone up to my ear I listened to the line ring. Ring, Ring, Ring... There was a click as I sat perched on the white sheets, dressed in my pajamas. Ok, you got me. Underwear and an oversized t-shirt. A groggy voice answered the phone.

"Hello?" I grinned, feeling giddy inside.

"Hello, Daddy." He knew who the heck was calling him this late, we'd been doing this for too long for him to not know. I heard him clear his throat before replying.

"Hi, to you too, baby." He yawned, making me let out a short giggle. "Girl, I am not kissing you right now. Why are you calling me that?" I could tell by his tone that he was smiling sleepily.

"Because I miss you. Oh! Guess where I'm at right now, Michael." I bit my lip. Butterflies fluttered around in my belly, I felt like a child in that moment.

"Where you at?"

"You're supposed to guess!"

"Ok, ok! Um, Japan? Wait, you better not be in Japan. You promised we'd go there together, Astoria." He was wide awake now that he thought I was in Japan, but I wasn't. I'm much closer than he thinks.

"I'm not in Japan, I promise. Guess again, Jackson." I twirled the phone cord around my finger, pressing my thighs together in the process.

"Now I'm 'Jackson'? Ouch, alright. Are you in New York? I thought you said something about having to go to New York for Stevie, didn't you?"

"I did, but that was two weeks ago..." My giddiness began to fade at his lacking guessing ability. A small frown creeped on my face as I waited for Michael to reply. After what felt like a couple minutes my patience got frazzled, so I prodded. "Michael?" Nothing. "Michael, are you still there?" I'd spoken louder that time and it seemed to do the trick; I heard him take in a sharp breath through his nose, snorting.

"Huh? Sorry, babe. I dozed off for a moment..." A sigh escaped his lips, "I haven't been sleeping well recently, and I was asleep when you called just now."

"Oh, I'm sorry. I should let you go then... I just wanted to tell you that I'm in L.A. right now, that's all." I replied, trying to hide any and all disappointment from my voice.

"You're in L.A.? You should have led with that! When can I see you?" My smile returned at his animated response. "Nevermind. I'm taking you out tomorrow, ok? Meet me at our favorite spot at seven pm for dinner, I'll make reservations tomorrow." Then he added as an afterthought, "Wear something sexy, baby. For me."

"Ok, I'll see you tomorrow at seven. And I'll wear whatever I want to, thank you very much." I teased. Now felt like as good a time as any to tell him what I'd been feeling for a while now... "Also, make sure to tell Bill I said 'Thank you' for making us a reservation." He wasn't going to call himself, I already knew. His laughter sounded through the phone.

No, wait until you see him in person. It'll mean so much more to him.

"I'll tell him. I love you, Ash." He told me quietly, as if there was no one else in the world. My heart felt warm as his voice filtered through the phone. There were those three little words again, should I say it? Every fiber in my being wanted to say them back, but for some reason, when I opened my mouth that's not what came out.

"You are... my everything." I confessed, shocking myself with my own words. I heard him choke up. "Oh, Michael. Don't cry, please."

"I'm not crying. Nope, there's no tears on my face. What are you talking about? I- I'm There's no crying." He was lying, I could clearly hear him sniffing. He must have tried to block the receiver, but I heard his muffled voice say to himself 'Oh god'.

"You're being emotional, and that's ok but you don't need to cry. I'll see you tomorrow?" My fingers fiddled with the hem of my t-shirt, waiting for his response.

"Yes." Sniff. "Yes, I'll see you tomorrow, lovely."

"I can't wait. Goodnight, Michael." I let go of my shirt and brought my other hand up to the phone, holding it with both.

"Goodnight, Astoria."

I hung up the phone.

  Ϟ

This chapter was a mind game for me to write...

...and I have no idea why.

On a lighter note, I hope you enjoyed it.

Enjoy your weekend lovelies! ✌

IShineNotBurn

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