seventeen - rockstar

the art of being a rockstar

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I woke up to screaming.

It tore through my body like a shard of glass. The raw terror etched into the cry for help made my pulse quicken, heart thudding violently against my chest as if threatening to destroy my body. The scream came again, terrified and horrifically human. The intensity of it had me panic-stricken, locked in my own body as I tried to find the courage to pull myself up.

I turned around, watching powerlessly as Kareem lashed in the bed, sweat dripping down his forehead as his hair stuck to his skin.

But despite it all, despite the pain crashing through him, the terror in his screams, he barely moved. It scared me that his movement seemed too controlled and coordinated even as he slept. As if he never had the option of being able to move. As if being kept confined was something he was used to.

"Kaz?" I whispered into the darkness, reaching out and touching his shoulder with the intention of shaking him awake without even thinking of what occurred last time. The thought didn't cross my mind as my entire attention lay on freeing him from whatever demons were thrashing around his mind and settling there.

Before I even had the chance to react, my wrist was gripped and I was slammed back onto the bed, a forearm pressing against my throat as I struggled to breathe.

But before panic could overtake me, and before I registered the pain in my wrist, the pressure was off my neck before I even had the chance to react.

Panting as I tried to catch my breath, I pushed myself up onto my knees and prioritised Kareem. He was shaking from where he'd thrown himself down onto the floor, breaths heavy as he curled into himself, arms wrapping around his knees.

My chest felt hollow, eyes flickering with unshed tears as I took in his shaken form from head to toe. He scrambled across the floor as I sat down slowly in front of him, arms wrapping around his legs as he tried to muffle his sobs with his elbows.

"I can't-" He finally forced out, chest heaving with the force of his breath. "It was all- Everything just-"

I stayed silent, not quite gathering the courage to speak up and wanting to give him the opportunity to speak about anything he needed too without interruptions.

Suddenly, his eyes shot up to meet mine. The amount of pain entwined into those dark irises made my stomach twist up painfully. I wanted nothing more than to eradicate it all; to hold him in my arms until the pain soothed to nothing.

"I didn't- I didn't know what to do. It all happened so quick." He tore his gaze away from mine, whispering so quietly that I could barely hear him. "I- Everything happened so fast, I was so scared and they were screaming. I thought we were dead, we were supposed to be dead but I-"

He couldn't finish his sentence, doubling over and pressing his palms to the floor. Kareem's body shook as he completely broke apart in front of me.

I knew that what he experienced wouldn't have been easy. It almost went without saying. War is brutal. He left that place with more scars than were visible, that much was brutally obvious. My heart ached for him, for the boy he was before he witnessed all this hell. I can't help but think about if things had gone differently, if he would've died with Lennon. The thought made my entire body seize up in fear, because I didn't want to ever imagine my life without him in it. I don't want to imagine a life where I'd never met him. I don't want to imagine a life where Kezziah would've been left completely alone.

"Kareem." My voice was soft as I approached him slowly, not wanting to startle him. If anything, he started trembling even more as if sensing someone else's presence.

"I'm so sorry. You need to tell Lennon I'm sorry. It was my fault, they were my squad. I did this. I-"

"Kareem." I repeated, louder this time. My hand slowly moved to his back, settling between his shoulder blades. Pressing down my hand, I tried to ground him in the only way I knew how. "Breathe."

He tried. I could visibly see how hard he was trying. I shifted closer, rubbing circles onto his back before he turned and held me. He folded into my embrace, breathing in and out deeply and letting out a quiet sob that sent daggers to my chest.

"I'm here, I've got you. Just breathe. In and out, okay? We've got this." I murmured, attempting to keep myself calm despite feeling anything but. It took every ounce of my strength to not let my word's break as emotions overwhelmed me.

I don't know how long it took until his trembling ceased, but I held him through it. Resting my head on top of his, letting him rest in my arms. He followed my instructions silently, inhaling and exhaling as he tried to match his breathing to mine.

When he seemed to relax slightly, I managed to hesitantly ask him if he was feeling better.

He just hummed, head dipped down as if he couldn't bring himself to match my gaze.

It just broke my heart even more.

"I'm nervous."

Throwing my head back in a laugh, I just shook my head at Kareem. His fingers were twisted together as he kept looking towards the stage that he'd be performing on in just a few minutes.

"You'll be incredible," I hummed, leaning in to press a kiss to his lips. "Stop stressing out."

"Frankly, saying that just makes me stress out more."

"Then find a distraction," I rolled my eyes, already used to the pre-gig preparation from the countless nights at the bakery.

This was Kareem's first time performing with the band. Sacha had managed to secure a night at a local concert venue and bar. Naturally, Kareem was incredibly nervous. Jem, Hendrix and Kezziah were standing in the audience already while I'd been granted backstage access given my relationship with the guitarist and unfortunate relation to the bassist.

It didn't help that both Kareem and I had spent the early morning hours completely awake, unable to get back to sleep until after sunrise. For the first time ever, I'd had to phone Hendrix and ask her to cover my shift with the promise of alcoholic confectionaries and weekend coverage until she said otherwise.

He nodded, slightly shaking with nerves before he reached out and gripped my hand. "Tell me about your parents."

"There's not much to say." I replied honestly, knowing he needed the distraction and squeezing his hand. "They were both archeologologists. Met in High School, studied at Yale and moved back home when my Mom's father got ill. I don't know a lot about my grandparents other than the fact I've never met. We used to see the extended family maybe twice a year; they never tried to integrate us with them."

His eyebrows furrowed, "Did it bother you?"

"Sometimes, when I was younger." Swallowing the small lump in my throat, I noted how it didn't seem to ignite any sort of reaction within me anymore. "They worked all the time, still do. I've not got any perception in my head of things being any different. Even when Sacha was born, I know I was young but I remember Mom sitting in bed doing her research while Sacha was asleep. A part of it annoys me, that they'll never be around when I have children, or get married, or that they don't even know I own Dexter's. On the other hand, I don't think I'd want them there. It's easier having that absence rather than them being physically here, but not emotionally." My eyes widened as I realized what I'd idly admitted, turning to apologize to Kareem before I saw his soft eyes and that smile. I knew he wasn't offended by any insinuation so I shrugged it off.

"I understand that, to be honest." Kareem ran his thumb along the skin of my knuckles, massaging slow circles over my hand. He appeared a lot calmer now that we'd begun talking. "This might sound messed up but, from just looking at you, I'd never have guessed that you had parental issues."

"Surprisingly, that was the first thing Hendrix said to me when I told her." I commented, settling into his hold as Kareem wrapped his arm around my shoulder. "I just didn't want to let it harden me, they didn't deserve that power."

"You deserved better," He mumbled, dropping a kiss to my hair. I snuggled into his hold, not noticing Sacha watching from the opposite side of the stage. "You both did."

Kareem used his grip on my hand to bring it up to his lips. He kissed each knuckle, before opening my hand and pressing his lips to my palm. My fingers sprayed across his cheek, as I lifted my other hand to hold Kareem's face. I pulled myself up as we both leaned in at the same time.

Kareem's lips opened on top of my mouth, I let out a soft breath and held his jaw. Kareem's hands smoothed over my back, pushing us closer together as I let out a happy sigh into his mouth.

The rush of kissing made me feel dizzy, my brain swimming with dopamine. I couldn't formulate the words to express the happiness that Kareem stimulated within me so I allowed my hands and lips to do the talking.

"I've got you now," I whispered, lips brushing Kareem's. "It's their loss."

Kareem kissed my cheek, nosing along my skin until he reached my lips again, pecking me quickly. "I'm here." Another kiss. "I'll be here until you're driven insane by my antics and want me gone." And another. "And if you want me to ever go, I'll go. But I'll stay as long as you let me."

Forever, I wanted to murmur, but my lips stayed shut.

"I'll never treat my kids like they did." I mumbled instead.

I refused to let their callousness harden me, but it didn't make me ignorant to the way I was treated. I refused ardently to close myself off, to knot my ribcage together and never allow someone close enough to leave my heart shattered. It would've been so easy to just pretend I'd never met Jem, or close myself off when I first properly met Hendrix. But I didn't want to. I refused to let life harden me, to desensitize myself. I wanted my bones to crumble before my soul ever did. I wanted to be hopeful, and kind, and safe. To believe in something bigger than myself, to believe that I could continue surging forward regardless of what had wounded or damaged me in the past.

I want a family for the right reasons. I want school runs and nappy changes, laughing with the love of my life about teenager angsts and sex talks and growing up. I wanted it all. The good and the bad, and I wanted to stay soft through it all. I wanted life to weather me in every manner possible. I wanted to experience life as bluntly and bravely as I could.

I wanted to do everything they never did.

"I don't want to turn out like them," I continued quietly, "It scares me that I could make my child feel that lonely."

"You won't." He muttered with so much conviction that it almost left me breathless. "You'll never do that."

My head lifted from where I'd allowed it to lull on his chest, searching his chocolate eyes with nothing less than raw desperation. "How do you know that?"

"Because you're a good person." He said without hesitation, "You're good and you care. It scares you, right? So you'll never be like that because you already know exactly how you don't want to be."

"People mess up."

"Without a doubt." He nodded, "But you don't give up on your kid. Parents mess up all the time, from the starting line, but it doesn't mean you give up. You try again and again until you get it right, because you already know where you went wrong before that."

"You don't give up on anything important." I let the corners of my lips tug up, "So go out there and show everyone how incredible you are."

He shook his head incredulously but failed to fight off the grin etching onto his face. "Smooth topic change."

"My best friend's doing a Master's in English Lit. Blame them."

Kareem rolled his eyes, "Overused excuse."

"But a valid one," I pecked his lips again before pushing him towards the stage, "Now go and put on a show."

He nodded, looking more determined by the second as the stage light dimmed. Isaiah headed towards his drum kit, while the boy's found their guitars set aside for the first song.

"I'll see you the moment we finish, okay?" He said to me, looking into my eyes. He put the strap over his head, gripping the guitar bridge.

I nodded my head and shot him a small smile. Watching from the sidelines as Isaiah begins to introduce the other instruments, the quiet drum beat building up and up. Sacha bounced across the stage, no hesitation in his eyes as his fingers flew across the bass guitar. Kareem follows on next, slower and more considerate than most. His attention solely lay on playing the right chords for the beat , instead of looking out at the audience.

Bodhi came on next. Strutting across the stage with such confidence, confidence that completely contrasted his usually quiet personality. I remembered back to when they first started performing in Cafe's across New York, how Bodhi would always seem so timid and shy when asked to sing in front of even a dozen people.

He'd slowly grown into his persona, showing everybody watching that this was what he was meant to do. This is what they were all born to do.

It made me so proud to watch Kareem just slot into that family as if there had never been a time when he wasn't there. So natural and confident in a way that I truly admired. As the beat continued to build and Bodhi began to sing, Kareem appeared to relax in the familiarity of the situation. No doubt used to the environment due to the countless practise sessions that Sacha had enforced upon them all.

It didn't take long for the set to shift into a more mellow sound. The boys each pulled the stools from backstage out for their final song, Kareem being handed an acoustic guitar by a stagehand for the final song.

They'd discussed this for a while. Sacha's setlist decisions tended to be so erratic that nobody could ever decide the right song to begin or end with. But these shows were for a reason. Those four boys adored music with their entire souls; it provided them with an escape from an already daunting existence.

Sacha had asked me for my advice and, due to the fact we were still trying to draw attention towards their talent, I'd advised that they finish with a soft acoustic which showed the power of each of their vocals. Each of the boys could sing well, with Kareem flying under my radar for longer than I wished for. He hadn't made me aware of the fact he used to play guitar and sing, and I'd only been informed when I overheard him singing Bon Jovi in the shower.

It was safe to say, it wasn't his decision to involve him in the singing portion of the show.

A few years ago, Sacha and I had written a song that had outpoured a vast amount of emotions for me. A song about vulnerability and love and trusting somebody with every inch of your heart. A song that I wrote when I was so in love that it consumed every inch of me.

Giving Sacha permission to perform a song so ultimately intimate to me had been difficult, but it was just as much his as it was mine. I didn't look back at that particularly cathartic period of my life with malice anymore. Especially because the man tasked with singing the bridge of If I Could Fly was so much more than I could've ever envisioned.

Everyone was silent as they sang so bluntly, breaths hushed as the entire crowd watched them perform such an emotionally powerful song. Such a bold choice in comparison to their rock and indie vibe from their other songs. They were showing themselves as much more than just performers who could put on a good show. Regardless of how many instruments they could play, how good they sounded together - it doesn't matter. The lyrical capability set these boys apart from everybody else. The raw rasps of their voices interlacing together set them apart. How influential they sounded together, completely dominating the attention of an entire room of people. This was different; This was what made them special.

This was going to change everything for them.

A/N:

thank you for reading!