Jay:
The next morning I roll over and can't help but cringe as I say.
"That was so country! Like, the most country thing I've ever done anyway,"
"Holy shit," Robin says, beaming and leaping out of bed to grab the laptop.
"They've replied! Whispersong have replied to our message!"
"Well don't leave me in suspense, what did they say, and what did YOU say?!"
"Oh my God…" Robin says, eyes wide with disbelief. "You're not going to believe it…"
***
Robin:
How can I tell the truth now.
I can't can I?
Jesus, I'll have to lie.
Forgive me.
***
Jay:
Robin looks like a Little Leaf considering options.
I have no idea what comes next and it's causing a tightening in my chest that feels like the precursor of a heart attack but isn't.
It's just total panic. I force my breathing into squares, like the doctor talked about, tracing a square round my right palm with the forefinger of my left hand, counting to four for each quadrant. I'm doing it again aren't I? Focussing on myself?
Back to Robin.
***
Robin:
It's ok, I've got this. I turn the laptop just a little, so Jay can see neither my message to Whispersong nor their reply.
"They're inviting us to their next gig, backstage VIP passes, all expenses paid… it's in France. The day after tomorrow, which is when they want us to get there."
Jay takes in so much breath it makes me want to breathe a little more.
"I'll… I'll have to clear it with my boss." Jay slips off the bed whilst saying this and starts to tremble in a way that unnerves me. It's a panic attack.
"Hey," I say quietly, moving closer slowly and holding my palms out in a universally acknowledged sign of calm and peace.
"It's alright, I could never walk through a busy station before without feeling like this. Don't worry, nobody ever died of a panic attack. My mum told me that once, before…"
Jay looks up at me hopefully and I think about how the power dynamic has shifted. Before, Jay with the money and the job and the smart clothes could conquer the world, but is here now drawing what meagre strength I have…
"It's ok," I say, grabbing Jay's hand. "We're a team now."
For a moment there's just pure silence, before the London air of shouting angry people, sirens and helicopters passing overhead draws us back out of this newfound connection.
"I'll do it, I'm calling in sick." Jay says.
"Don't, tell them the truth. You need a break," I say.
Jay nods, and stands, walking to the pile of last night's clothes left near the door to my studio and looking for not one but two different phones. Legs lengthening with each step, making me feel like a dumpling.
I suspect we're jealous of each other, different as we are, but isn't there a saying about grass being greener?
Reading through the rest of the message, Whispersong write that they're overjoyed at least two Little Leaves have had transformative experiences because of their first in-person gig, so they want to reward our effort not only to attend but also writing to them afterwards. The message is signed by each of the band members and includes guest passes should we choose to bring anyone else. I tell Jay this, and we both say no so quickly it'd normally be a red flag, but weren't we just talking about green?
Jay's breathing has slowed and the panicked look has faded into something much calmer, but I get this is a big deal.
"It's ok if you want to go back you know, to your life."
"I don't, I don't," Jay says, with a vigorous shake of the head. I can understand that, and wonder what it is that I might be trying to escape from. Maybe the present, into the future.
"I've replied and said we'll do it," I say, even though I haven't yet.
"How did you even do that so fast?! Amazing," Jay replies, confirming what a great idea this is. We quickly, pragmatically get up with a plan to shop for what we'll need to spend a few nights staying at a vineyard in southern France, after falling into bed once more.
***
Jay:
Fuck fuck fuck.
Shit.
Fuck.
There's no way I'm doing this.
There's no way I can ever get the time off work.
They can't cope without me, I'll get fired, I'll lose the one thing I actually have.
My phone vibrates, the personal one I shouldn't use for work but do, and it's a text from Him.
"Go to France," it says, thumping me hard in the chest as I read it. Do they not need me? Am I not…
I'm being foolish. Remember gratitude. I am grateful for this opportunity. I am ready, to live again. To be happy maybe for the first time.
***
Robin:
Jay is clearly uncomfortable, but I think I can cool it by being chill. Imagine how many people are paradoxically jealous of my job insecurity. The ability to work from anywhere. The ability to always want an expensive coffee shop coffee but never quite be able to purchase one. How funny we are.
"Jay, I get it, it's scary and different and weird but you don't have to drink and I'll be there and it'll be fun and we've been stuck inside for three fucking years and I just think it'd be more insane not to do this than to do it. Alright?"
Instead of replying, Jay gets up and embraces me. I embrace back and it rocks.
After taking a moment, I need to tell Jay this means we've got to get up and move, quickly, flexibly. We don't have time to have a meeting about it.
I've never been in charge of anything, but getting us there feels like a mission from on high and I'm well up for it. It's loose and it's wild and I'm so down, I just gotta check in with Jay constantly, or at least that's how it feels.
"Even if you're not ready for this right now, we can become ready together on the way, cos I'm scared too," I tell Jay, and every word is the truth, but life isn't about playing What If with yourself, and we've been handed an opportunity.
The airport isn't that far.
***
A scant hour or two later we're at the airport, and for all Jay's reservations, the shots are free flowing. Jay even pays for, well, all of them. I'd feel bad If I didn't know I'd pay it back. I will. One day writing words for other people to speak or use or feel is going to pay off for me, I can tell. There've been a couple enquiries about whether I'm available and I'm happy to say with a twitch I turned off those notifications because I'd rather be life rich and money poor than the reverse.
"Jay, Jay, Earth-to-Jay, do you hear me?" I'm asking as we sink into our seats and squeeze the armrests, ready for a tinny of Heineken and an exorbitantly expensive, tiny can of Pringles.
"I…" is the best Jay can do.
I take the little book I shouldn't have left on my desk out. The final pages are starting to fall out, but a Bible is a Bible and I have to try to glean some wisdom from it where I can. I read the words that I "will remain in love" but I don't understand who's love it is or how I might use it, even though I've more faith than my parents combined these days.
We gotta believe, but even as I think that I look down, sad, ashamed.
Jay places a hand on my thigh, for once ignorant to the glances of the Frowners, and I love it. Whatever is happening now, we're on the precipice of change. I'm definitely more grateful than I am scared. I just hope Jay won't hate me when my message is inevitably leaked and a billion people find out that I think our love is pristine, immaculate.
How could it be? But it is.
Reality television and other fiction has made me think that everything is faux, for the stage, but what I'm feeling? Fuck letting anyone else tell me what that is. I know it's real, Jay knows it is real and Whispersong knows it is real too.
***
Jay:
I've been picked up from an airport before, of course I have. Who hasn't?
Robin I guess.
But this is different, when we're all in the middle of nowhere, we're rendered down to the same base power, IE none at all.
I don't know how I feel when we see that Badger has driven a small and humble car to pick us up. I don't know how I feel when he hugs me like a friend and I don't know how I feel when Robin is so much more chill than me.
It drives me mad.
But I love it.
***
Robin:
I smashed a few more drinks at the airport once we arrived, not that anyone needs to know, I just pretended I needed the bathroom. I'm a nervous flier see, and beer doesn't cut it. But Badger gets it, I can tell he does just from that one look he gives me. It's like our souls did a quick Bluetooth connect and coupled, just for a moment.
Before I know it, we're driving fast through the French countryside towards destiny, at a hurtling pace, and I'd love to lie and say this was a bad idea but the truth is it wasn't. This'll be the making of us.
There's a kind of static undercurrent that connects us all, and I think it might be something bigger than any of us.
Jay:
"Are we nearly there? I'd like to use the bathroom."
I sound like a square, am I a square? How would I know if anyone is a square or not?! Jesus this is exhausting.
Both Badger and Robin look at me like they're the keepers of ancient knowledge.
"Screw you guys," I whisper, as quiet as I can, but I know they both heard.
Robin puts a hand on my thigh but I brush it off, feeling insecure and hateful. If I was an emoji I'd be the sad face. I think I'll just stare out the window for a bit.
***
Robin:
Jay's acting a bit off, but who wouldn't be right now, we've literally flown to another country to hang out with one of the biggest bands in the world as if that's a normal thing to do. The shock will wear off pretty soon though I think, and then we'll be able to enjoy ourselves.
Badger repeatedly asks us if we want anything, but we both say no and there's no chat whatsoever. It'd be awkward if the scenery wasn't so beautiful, and I think even he is drinking it in. There aren't many cars on the motorway, and it's flanked by glorious countryside filled with our favourite colour: green. He tells us that the drive will take a little while but we don't mind.
Jay sips nervously at a bottle of water, whilst I think about what's coming next. What will the venue be, where will we be staying, what will the rest of the band be like? I sort of thought we wouldn't really see them, when it looks like we might actually be staying with them?! Nobody has told us much about what the plan is, which makes me realise there probably isn't one. This fact will surely horrify Jay who appears to be vibrating with an energy I'm not sure is excitement.
I'm personally pretty chuffed with everything that's happened in the past couple days and for one don't mind if change continues at this pace, because I don't think I was very happy before, and don't understand how anyone could have been.
Ironically, the Frowners – and us Little Leaves before Whispersong – were taking to social media and online article publishing platforms to tell everyone else, unhappily, how to live a happy life, and not understanding how weird that was.
Hell, I've been hired to write dozens if not hundreds of these types of articles and social media posts. You can only write so many before becoming jaded, and no wonder everyone has been struggling to connect with the present moment; it's because the present moment sucks!
Sucked.
Past tense. Right now is awesome and I want to see if I can drag Jay out of past and or future and right into the present. I decide the best way to do this is by leaning into it, and announcing loudly that I'm happy to be here and grateful for the opportunity to meet and hang out with the greatest band to ever exist.
Badger, amazingly, starts to blush and starts to tell us more. I mentally pat myself on the back, as this application of social lubricant is a huge success. Jay actively leans forward to listen to Badger, who has become far more animated.
"Well, we were talking about how we've kind of accidentally created something of a phenomenon. There's like, over a billion Little Leaves now, and our advisor thinks we can get to four. That's like, half the planet man. It's totally crazy, so we have, like, a responsibility & a duty to get to know our fans more now because we can have such a big impact on people's lives. Kind of like we have with yours."
He pauses to turn back and take a quick look at the two of us instead of using the mirror, and his eyes are so dreamy I tremble a bit under his gaze, and hope Jay didn't notice.
"You're bi," he says, looking at me. I nod. If Jay thinks anything about it, it isn't obvious.
"Anyway, we know we've got a lot of … young and diverse audience members and we kind of want to bring Christian values a bit more up to date so that the people in this world just like…treat each other better man. We thought about having a camp or our own festival or a band house or something but it was my suggestion to start small. With you two. We get a lot of messages, but I'd never read one like yours Robin, it was full of intense hope. When you started to-"
"Stop," I cut him off. "We haven't had time to talk in any detail about the message yet…" I look down, feeling a bit like I've betrayed Jay's trust.
"Huh, ok, sure," he says, a little dejected and turning his attention back to the road. We've been driving for what feels like hours and the sun has started to go down over the fields of lavender, and we can see the sea darkening.
"Nearly there," he says, "I think you're going to really like the villa."
"I bet! It must be full of instruments and stuff for writing." I gush, unable to contain myself.
"That's right," Badger says, "And you, Jay? What do you like?"
"Wifi," comes the single-word response.
"Ha you got it, we've got great connection if you need to do emails and things like that. You guys can have your own room and a wing of the villa separate to us stinkin yanks!" he says with a giggle, and he does smell a bit like bonfires and tobacco, I must admit.
"You're going to work whilst we're here?" I ask, turning to Jay.
"Nah, I just freak out at the thought of no signal."
"Me too,"
"Me three!" Badger chimes in cheerfully. "But I was thinking if you like, tonight, we could have a bbq around a fire outside tonight and chill with some beers and guitars and we'll tell you what we've been working on?"
This seems to unlock something inside Jay, and soon we're clasping hands again, back to normal and remembering why we're here: because we're fans.
"Ah, here we are," Badger says, pulling the car through some impressive-looking gates and onto a long, winding driveway up towards a looming building so opulent in design and beauty I literally gasp.
"It's a little grand isn't it? We'd have been happy sleeping in our tour bus but you know, our advisor says we need to start behaving like rockstars now we… are rockstars." He looks a little younger as he says this, and I think about how even he had years stolen from him. If this weighs on him at all, it doesn't show, and I think about asking him more about it later.
"Oh nice, a welcome party!" He cheers, as we get closer and he slows the car down. The other members of the band must have stayed behind to arrange what we can see now. There's a huge "Welcome Robin & Jay. #Whispersong22" sign, hanging over the heavy wooden doors of the entrance, and trellis tables set up underneath large palm trees either side of the doors. One is covered in food and non-alcholic drinks whilst the other is arranged like a bar. My stomach rumbles audibly and I realise I'm parched.
"Wow, this was so kind of you to arrange for us, thank you," we echo, feeling like spoiled schoolchildren. In their usual clothes and with the darkening of the day, the band just look like regular men, but thanks to all the interviews and other public appearances and posts on their socials, I'm sure I can speak for both of us when I say I think we know what to expect. It feels like we know them already, and the fact that they want to get to know us is absolutely immense.
Stoat approaches the car whilst the rest are cracking open beers and digging into bowls of crisps as Badger brings us to a halt and pops the trunk.
"Wow, travel light huh?" Stoat says, seeing we've only got a small rucksack each.
"Had a feeling we wouldn't need much." Jay says, beaming at Stoat whilst exiting the car and wrapping him in a huge hug. "I'm Jay, that's Robin".
"Ha, we should have got some name badges done up eh? But don't worry we know, we've done some homework on you guys. Power of social media right?" He says brandishing his phone, which is open on Jay's LinkedIn profile.
"Love your writing, Robin," he says and I nearly collapse wondering what it is that he's read, "it's a pleasure to meet you both." He takes both rucksacks onto his broad shoulders and whisks them away into the villa, whilst we wait for Badger before crunching over the gravelly drive to meet the rest of the band.
***
Ferret breaks the ice with a very formal handshake for each of us, and doesn't really say anything other than welcome, whilst Fox is admiring Jay's outfit. They're both over six foot tall and wearing Forest-green skinny jeans whilst he's talking about how much he'd love to be smart enough to work as a financial analyst, but just hits the drums really hard instead, probably because he's secretly angry that he isn't that smart.
Badger and Stoat are talking to each other quietly, and whilst I do wonder what they're plotting, I'm also gasping for beer and snacks and hoping nobody will judge the monstrous consumption they're about to see. Even Jay is like "Wow, Robin, you really like calories don't you?", I burp by accident, confirming the accusation. I've had about four Miller Lights already – I love lager – and several handfuls of beef jerky.
Jay has been pecking and sipping at one Bud Light but I'm not judging. The band are at the Whiskey and Coke which they chase with beers. It's a good thing the gig isn't tonight, and it sounds like we're going to have a pretty cool evening with everyone getting to know each other better. I'm selfishly super excited to not only meet my heroes but also extract everything I can about writing and music from them so that I can siphon off some of their talent for myself. Jay's motivation seems to be more around escaping the humdrum of the day to day, and that's cool too.
***
Jay:
My motivation for being here is unclear to me.
I'm a little jealous of Robin, who so clearly has everything figured out and is more natural with the band than I am. I know I need to stop overthinking and enjoy myself, but it's hard. I'm so bored of listening to myself already, in my head and out loud. How does one un-compartmentalise after so many years of stuffing oneself into labelled boxes. I feel like indulging myself with a full emo "nobody gets it" meltdown but that would be neither fair nor accurate: the rest of the world were plunged into lockdowns too, and had it significantly worse than I did.
But all things being relative, it was still the most challenging period of my life and I'm obviously not even starting to get over it. That Whispersong gig was the first thing I'd done for myself in years, and I still had to give a bunch of strangers tickets to even feel justified in treating myself to it.
I need to speak to Harland about this, I'm all bent out of shape, but he's hundreds of miles away back in blighty and I'm here in France with these … unusual and beautiful people. I'm probably being so ungrateful to them.
Time to put on a happy face, I guess.
I decide if you can't beat them join them and just chug my way through a couple Bud Lights quietly before sidling up closer to Robin, who looks up at me hopeful with expectation. I don't want to disappoint anyone.
It feels a bit weird that we're still standing in the front garden and, picking up on my thoughts, Fox offers to give us a quick tour of the house and show us where the bathrooms are before suggesting we start heading to the back garden which is much bigger and nicer, where we can construct a large campfire now that the sun has truly set and the night air brings with it chills and insects and the promise of a long night ahead.
"If at any point you're not feeling it, you know, you can just come chill in your room know you know where it is," Fox tells us whilst looking directly at me as he conducts the tour. Mindfully, they've arranged us a room each rather than expecting that we will share… just what did Robin say in that message to them?! I'll have to find out sooner or later.
We don't mention it for now, or that we won't be sharing a room again. Did we rush things yesterday… of course we did. Do I care? I'm not so sure.
Before long we're around a campfire, and the band have a drinking game they want to play before we even start to talk about music, ourselves or anything else. They call it The Warm-up.
Badger clears his throat.
"The rules are simply. One person will fill two tumblers, one with whiskey the other with cola. We will pass it around the six of us taking a mouthful of each and then swallowing it as we pass it on, until these two bottles are gone," he says, brandishing two rather large bottles of Bourbon.
"If you don't want to play there's no shame in it and we've got a delightful non-alcoholic version," he adds, trying not to look at me whilst looking at me.
"I'm playing!" I announce and this clearly lifts the spirits of the other five; it means we're all playing. Ferret, who says the least, takes the biggest honks to start us off. He doesn't grimace at all, and I figure it's probably nice, expensive whiskey before it's my turn and that hypothesis is proven incorrect. It's horrendous and burns its way down my windpipe. I can't help but smile. It feels awesome.
I pass it to Robin with a look that says forgive me.
***
Robin:
Poor old Jay, we might be the same age, but I think we've had a totally different experience of life so far. It's sad how hard it is for some people to relax and get on the zone, but rather than be a judgemental douchebag I decide to honk the whiskey, reach out and say.
"Good thing I've got you to keep me from floating away."
Maybe it's the whiskey talking, but I do think we complement each other. One to be away with the fairies, the other to ground us in reality. That'd be good for any couple. Hah, couple, I said it. What to do about the rooms…
The whiskey is flowing and its good. Jay is talking and it's my turn to be quiet and listen and I love it. The band look like they're full of love and light, even now it's dark, and the flames of the fire we're sat around bring a passion to their eyes I'm sure I'll see forever.
They're talking about how they never knew they'd be musicians, but also could never do traditional office work – no offence Jay – which has me chuckling a little. Trying to imagine any of us operating in the older world seems impossible now compared to this new, smoky whiskey one.
"Will one of you teach me some guitar?" I ask.
"Don't be silly Robin," Badger bats back, "You can already play. But sure, what do you want to learn?"
"How to write a whole song I guess, not just the music or lyrics. How can I create something like you do?" I shamelessly ask, fuelled by the drink.
"Uh oh," Stoat mutters. And continues when Jay and I both give him a questioning look?
"Don't worry you'll see." He says, letting Badger explain.
"Now don't get me wrong. We're all good Christian boys here, but some of us believe just a little bit harder than others I guess?" he says, shrugging.
"He thinks God writes our songs," Ferret says, finally finding his voice.
"Not exactly, and I'll keep telling you this F, but He does work through us, if indirectly. We're doing his work."
There's a pregnant silence as we all weigh the potential truth of his words. Badger looks at me expectantly as if our faiths can talk to each other, but they might have uncoupled after all. I'd rather Jay's questioning mind than Badger's blind conviction.
"To each their own," I say, raising the tumblers now it's my turn again and taking a massive drink. "But I'd love to see what that looks like in practice. Sometimes when I'm writing it's like I'm the autopilot for something or someone else so I kind of getting what you're saying."
"Yeah! That's exactly what it's like!" Badger comes to life, his shoulders raising up with his smile. There are a few scoffs but I get it, it's uncomfortable if you have doubts. To make sure this isn't going to be an issue, I'll show Jay the message I wrote them later. Even if I'm a little pissed, it might actually help!
***
Jay:
Badger is on a bit of a tangent, swaying from side to side as he gives a whiskey-fuelled, impassioned speech about how there will always be doubters, and that proving them wrong is a mountain we'll all have to climb because it's the only way to inspire action in others and get people off the fence they've been sitting on.
He isn't wrong but I do wonder if his bandmates might be a little sick of his preaching because they go super quiet and look away, like they've heard it all before. No matter how many times they've heard it though, this is probably the first time they've had a billion subscribers two think about, two of whom are sat with them around the campfire.
Fox keeps looking at me, like I'm a puzzle to be solved. He's right about that, hopefully he'll let me know if he solves it.
Ferret is the first to hang up his boots, as it were – although they are all dressed sort of like cowboys, with ripped jeans, white shirts and leather vest tops – quietly reminding the others that they've got a gig tomorrow.
Stoat brushes him off.
"Ah it's an easy one man, only two or three hundred people and it's not being televised or recorded, I think we can relax a bit!" You can hear his smile before you see it, revealing menacing teeth that don't make much sense when coupled with the kindness of his eyes. Ferret scurries inside anyway, and I try to gauge from Robin when would be a good time for us to head in together, whether we're spending the night in separate rooms or not, but before I can make a move myself Badger gets in there first.
"Robin," he says, "come pick a guitar, we can bring them out here and I'll teach you some bits."
He's well intentioned, but heat rises in my chest and on my cheeks.
The second the two of them have gone inside, Stoat and Fox get up and take their chairs, flanking me and leaning in with their beers and their smell and their big eyes.
"Don't worry about Badger he means well, he's just trying so damn hard to be good, whereas we'd rather just be good man, you know?"
I think I do.
Fox is looking me up and down.
"So you're like… bi?" he asks, and his face immediately falls and he starts apologising for being so inappropriate but I tell him it's ok and that yeah I am, even though I've never said it out loud before.
"That's awesome!" he says, overcompensating with a high five.
Robin:
Badger leads me by the hand to their studio and it's the most incredible thing I've ever seen. There's a piano larger than the car we drove here in, and at least twenty guitars, most of them acoustic. Two drumkits, six basses and plenty of other exotic looking things I don't even know what are.
"Here," he says, handing me a large Tanglewood that feels too big and heavy for me but is absolutely stunning. The faceplate around the soundhole has been painted with the now familiar green leaf motif and the strings sparkle with a beauty like stars.
"Elixir coated strings," he murmurs. "The absolute best. If you can get used to this one, it'll reward you."
"It used to be yours?"
"Yeah, it did. You know Robin, we should write a song, about how right you were, everything you said in your letter. When you fall in perfect love, you can't expect anybody to be happy for you. But we'll prove them wrong Robin, we can show the world just how real this is, and you won't be alone. Oh hang on-" he takes his phone out of his pocket and moves quickly into the soundproofed room at the end of the studio.
All I hear is "Yes, yes, ok, understood."
He returns and is straight back into mid-flow, "Like I was saying you'll have the full support of me and the band. Let's show the world what your and Jay's immaculate love looks like eh? We've got your back!" He picks up a fender and starts thrashing a G-chord to a tune only he can hear.
I'm left feeling like Jay isn't the only one who doesn't yet see the bigger picture?