EVENTUALLY, EACH SONG BEGINS TO blur into the next, an everlasting haze of mindless music and the dull roar of applause, massacred by the sounds of people screaming: shouts and hollers that are guttural and animalistic-sounding, even when, with my mother's shiny eyes and trembling lips on stage, she looks like she's bowled over with bliss and appreciation and sheer happiness. A younger version of herself, and not the single mother of two, even if we were two little brats with our noses in the air, bragging to everyone that'd listen: our mother's going to be famous!
In the free merch DVDs she sent our way after every few performances, we've made our way to about halfway through her tour, somewhere in the West Midlands maybe, but the place hardly matters when she brings her heart from home and shares it with the audience at each one. Rendering them slaves to her voice, her heart and her soul, like a pulsating magnetic attraction.
The last few moments―credits and contacts and the last round of applause―fade into nothing. The room fills with the scramble of feedback, the kind of sound that swells and fades in your ears like brigades of cars on the motorway when your eyelids are dropping and your mind is wandering, face pressed up against the window's night-chilled glass so even the silence becomes something to listen to.
Ebony seems hesitant whether to queue up the next one on the old DVD player. We had to dig it out for this purpose, but it seemed worth it when our mother's smile reached from ear-to-ear, so toned with joy it almost seemed too big for her face. She hasn't smiled like that for a while.
I check the time. The minute hand crawls past three, the hour hand a few stops ahead of it, shifting past eleven.
"Archer will be here soon," I say, throwing the blanket off of my legs. I nudge Ebony, shoving at his arm. "We need to get dressed."
"Dressed? For what, a cave?" He snorts and I sigh, stretching my arms above my head.
"No. For a party," I say, "which I know I'm ready for, but are you?"
The look he gives me is flat. "About as ready as any guy who has no idea what's going on could be."
I offer him a hand to help him off of the sofa. "I'll explain once you're dressed, Eb. You could say Archer and I have a better bond than you'd think."
The sentence rings truer than ever after the events of yesterday, but my lips remain zipped. It's easier to go along with Archer and all his gale-force winds and tidal catastrophes than question the intricacies of his nature.
Ebony barks out a laugh, unbenknowing of my thoughts. "Knowing Archer, I'll bet."
Within the span of ten minutes, the two of us are dressed appropriately. I crash back down on the downstairs sofa, while Ebony comes up with a half-believable lie about why we're going out so late. It's in this messy time of waiting my phone buzzes in the bag slung around my hips, a text from Archer.
Archer: I'm outside, should I come up?
Me: it's fine eb and i will be down in a min
Archer: So he's definitely coming?
Me: of course
see u in a bit
Ebony appears within moments, and I tell him Archer's out front waiting for us.
"I'm still not sure about this," he says, trailing after me as I bound down the stairs, taking the backdoor out of the building into the car park. Archer's car can be heard from the mouth, the rumble of his engine audible from the East side where he's half-parked, half-reversing back out into the road.
He waves us over, features illuminated in a glare of orange that fights the shadows swallowing his face.
I walk over, the heels of my boots clacking against rain-glossed gravel and Ebony follows; while I climb into the passenger, my brother sits in the back, still hellbent on asking as many questions as humanly possible. There seems to be an unspoken agreement between Archer and I that we'll ignore most of them, only answering the one he keeps coming back to.
"Look, all you need to know about the Chain is that it's an amazing place full of the most brilliant people you'll ever meet. Like one massive party, with music and art and dancing everywhere―like King City Academy, except they're nowhere near as prejudiced. They're just...so talented and accepting and wonderful, and unlike up here, they actually take care of each other," I say. "I mean, I've only been a handful of times, and I've only properly interacted with JJ, but everyone I've met and have talked to are all fantastic, in every single way."
Something about what I've said causes Archer to smile, and then I'm smiling, and somewhere along the line, Ebony is too.
Archer starts to drive then, and in the velveteen darkness, lights become a windswept blur: smudged watercolour and ink on fingers, like phosphenes and the cosmic burn of whole galaxies blooming behind your eyes. Winds trickle between my fingers, intangible to grasp, and though I feel numb clad in a leather skirt that cuts off around the top of my thighs and a silky bralette thing beneath this stolen hoodie, there's something inside me that likes it―this insatiable taste for liberty.
It feels warmer too, when I pull down the cuffs of Finch's hoodie over my fingers, frozen into claws that clutch the fabric in desperation, frigid fists with too many rings and nails long and sharp enough to draw blood. A dark charcoal-grey thing that falls down to my mid-thigh, it smells like burn-out cigarettes and aftershave, all held together with the cloying reek of booze lingering on the thick fabric.
The train station is deserted when we arrive, the lights of the last train just fading into the distance. A harsh breeze rockets over the silence, half-drowning our ears, stirring settlements of fallen leaves.
I hug myself, fingers knotting in some desperate attempt to keep warm. Though the year still lingers in the depths of late October, the temperatures have dropped to somewhere that nears freezing, leaving us to face the brunt of it as time ticks on, drawing ever closer towards midnight. In the distance, the city is stagnant and still, edging towards sleep, even though the wind still hums and cars blast past―a melody of insomnia.
The first signs of a storm bleed across the horizon, an orange glow at the base of the sky. Trees twist and writhe in surging gusts, and I find the boys on either side of me edging closer; the three of us share body heat to keep warm, pressing against each other and timing our steps.
It's almost torturous when Archer edges forward, dropping down onto the track. His landing is practised, dropping into a perfectly balanced crouch before he extends himself and beckons me down.
My heart thumps in my chest: this moment sends waves of anxiety spiralling through my system. Archer's reaches up to slip into mine, a transient fragment of assurance, while I close my eyes to the thoughts of flaring lights and deafening screeches.
The train passes. The adrenaline dies.
Nodding reassuringly at Ebony, who watches me with blanched shock, I drop to my knees, scooting backwards off of the platform with a white-knuckled death grip. My legs dangle, half-suspended from the platform, before I leap down onto the track.
Stepping back so I'm beside Archer, the two of us beckon Eb down, instructing him to do it as I did―slow and cautious and methodical, ignoring the heart in his throat and the palpitations in his chest.
Crouched on the edge of the platform, he dangles one leg down, shoe already scuffing the metal ingrates of the track. His brown, biro-stained fingers are curled around the platform, twisting his body to drop the other leg down onto the jointed rails. Shoving his hands in his pockets to hide their shaking, he makes his way over to us by keeping to the sleepers on the side of the track, avoiding the crushed stone ballast beneath, appearing endless and menacing in the lack of light.
"Where do we go next?" He asks, in a hushed voice that carries to our ears and no further.
Archer gestures for us to follow him, ducking his head so he isn't visible from the top of the platform and finding the opening; a gaping mouth of a whole. Standing aside, he murmurs for me to let myself into the crawl-space first, as the smallest but also for the sake of Ebony and I.
I venture forward on my hands and knees through the small stone passage, until it opens out into the familiar colourful room. I motion back to the boys I've made it, before dropping down and waiting for them.
They arrive within moments, Ebony followed by Archer, dropping onto the floor like trained soldiers.
For one moment that is frozen in time, nothing seems more peaceful and beautiful than watching Ebony take it all in, expression struck with awe and lips parted, eyes near-bugging out of his head as he tries to process this world coming to life around him.
"Come on." I tug on his wrist, becoming impatient. "I need to apologise to JJ and convince him to give me another chance."
"What? Oh, okay," Ebony says, but he seems disappointed, trailing after Archer and I.
It isn't hard to pinpoint JJ when the lulling, haunting melody of his piano-playing fills the air, a song I recognise, one that makes me want to break out singing at any moment, but right now, I just want to listen. After ditching him on performance night without a word, I owe him at least that much.
Upon hearing us approach, his song finishes promptly, fingers resting lightly on the keys as he turns to the sound of our footsteps and smiles.
"Hey, JJ," Archer greets him first, leaning an elbow on the piano. "I brought Ivory and Ebony."
"Ivory?" His face lights up, and I feel a twinge of guilt expand in my chest. "I didn't think you were ever coming back here, after you didn't come back for the performance a while ago."
"I know." I toe the ground with my boot, stirring age-old layers of dust. "And I'm really sorry about that. I put some terrible people over you, when I was honestly really excited to perform. And―I still would love to, but I understand if you wouldn't want to perform with me again. I just hope that, at least, you'd be okay if I came and watched you sometime."
JJ releases a laugh, a melodic, genuine sound that coaxes a smile out of my lips. "Of course I'd wanna perform with you. I'd never pass up a chance to play with the best singer I've ever heard."
"Wait." A grin breaks out on my lips. "You'd still wanna perform with me?"
"Of course! I have a set on Saturday night if you want to join me on stage then," JJ says, adjusting his beanie.
"I'd love to!" I clap my hands over my mouth, overcome with excitement. Beside me, Archer cracks a grin, clapping my shoulder. "Thank you so much, JJ. I'm sorry I let you down, but it won't happen this time. I'll be there, cross my heart."
"And hope to die," Ebony comments, flanking my other side. "Really great playing, by the way. I'm Ebony."
"The brother." JJ nods. "I've heard a lot about you. And it's great to see you."
This time, when Archer laughs, I join in.
Ebony's gaze flickers between us, mouthing what until JJ and Archer finally explain it to him.
Biting my lip, I cast my gaze upon all of them and realise this is the most content I've felt for a long, long time.
Without Rebel, without the IPs and the Witches and the suffocating social constraints of King City, there's so much more. To see the light in Ebony's eyes and the smile on the corner of Archer's mouth; the dark waves of hair escaping the lip of JJ's beanie. Around us, the room is alive: two girls rehearsing in the corner, flexing their legs against the wall, and someone else painting, their brush kissing the wall in practised strokes, before guiding their wheelchair to take them to the next little section.
Life on the surface may never have, but right now, being here in the Chain feels like home.
☆☆☆