Elijah glanced up at the sky. There had been nothing said about rain, but the little droplets were quickly becoming thicker droplets. He frowned and jogged the short distance to his car, a silver Lexus that had been given to him after becoming platinum with his last album. It was still in impeccable condition as he rarely drove anywhere with it – it was a luxury car that was highly recognizable as his own, in this quiet part of town.

Unlocking the door, he slid inside into the massive seat. He was short, so the seat had been custom designed for him – something that he appreciated massively. Trying to drive a car without such an accommodation made him feel like he was twelve, peering over the dash and down the hood.

You know, it’d be nice if you asked about your fiance…

The words rung in his head, over and over, as he started the engine and rapped his fingers on the steering wheel. He sat there for a long second, headlights like beacons out into the night that had fallen around their home, and let the seconds tick by.

Finally he snapped out of his reverie, fastened his seatbelt and carefully guided the car through the open gate at the end of the drive. The blond watched as the gate closed in his rear-view mirror, chewing his manicured fingernails.

The rain was beginning to fall thicker now. He flicked on the windshield wipers, listening to the silence in the car. Typically he would have put on music, but his body felt heavy and his thoughts were sluggish – poisoned with the words that kept ringing in his ears.

I mean, I’m sure you’re busy and all, but still…

His grip on the steering wheel tightened and his foot pressed a little harder on the gas.

Of course he was busy. He’d had press releases and interviews and a magazine shoot just yesterday. It wasn’t as if he could lounge around and eat bon-bons constantly. For as frail as he looked, Elijah did some hard, dirty work in this business just to stay in it. Just to do what he loved. And with the upcoming tour and the way that that had been pressing on his mind, he hadn’t had personal time since he didn’t know when.

The rain was coming thicker by the second, splattering against the windshield with quiet, bullet-like noises.

Elijah had been the one caring for DJ all last night… Yet when he’d come home today after a dizzying day of interviews, a photoshoot and an autograph signing that he’d smiled all the way through despite himself, he had been replaced. It was far out of Elijah’s personality to ever dismiss anyone even if he thought he was better suited for the job, so he’d simply stepped aside. At that point, he’d already had enough on his mind with the tour, and with what he’d seen…

He zoomed by a sign that read a number about 15 miles an hour slower than his current speed, but he didn’t notice, lost in his thoughts.

Being busy had nothing to do with how much he cared for DJ. He loved his fiance, more than he could accurately put into words. Elijah had just seen it fit to leave. Too many cooks in the kitchen, and too much on his mind.

The image of beguiling, precious Alan entered his head. Alan, with big baby blues and snakebite piercings and a shock of light brown hair. Tears of frustration gathered in his eyes at the thought of what Zach may say. He’d waited so long to find someone, and now it was all going to ruin. A salty, wet droplet slid down his face, pulling at his eyeliner and mascara. He glanced into the rearview mirror and saw the streak of black. Elijah’s mouth twitched down in a frown and he reached over with a hand to rummage through his bag for a tissue.

Zachariah. The tall, professional athlete – he’d been picked up by a football team just recently – was his best friend. Had been since the two of them were much younger. Around seven, eight maybe. The dark haired, blue-eyed man was the closest person to him outside of his family. He loved his sisters and his mother very much – though he’d never been particularly close to his brother.

Damon… A shiver went down his spine as he turned the corner a little sharply. He didn’t notice he was easily going twenty-five faster than he should have been, or that he could barely see through the rain. The blond was only thinking that he knew these roads well… Besides, he was focused on the words that Damon’s silver tongue had slipped to him…

He’ll find out, eventually.

Elijah’s heart slammed in his chest. His right hand got clammy on the wheel, and he peered to the left to go through his bag in the darkness. Sighing when he couldn’t find it, he looked up at the road again for a brief moment.

You don’t eat.

He closed his eyes. At the time, he’d managed a faint squeak, something along the lines of ‘I do so’. Damon had levelled his argument with one look. A look that had said so much, without words. It had told him that what he ate and when he ate contributed nothing to the argument… It was little, and very infrequent.

He’ll leave. Even faster.

And then Damon had gone, quickly as he came. Rehearing the words in his ears caused more tears to fall. His hands trembled and he gripped the wheel. His foot pressed on the gas and the car sped up around him, but he was in a whirlwind of his own thoughts. He took the turn too fast, choosing the wrong time to glance down and rummage for a tissue.

The tires of the sleek silver Lexus spun out from beneath it, rainwater causing a hydroplane. Elijah didn’t realize what was happening until it was far, far too late. The luxury car spun out of control and slammed sideways into a wide oak tree at a top speed that was two and a half times the speed limit of the area. Old, and thick, the tree did an unspeakable amount of damage to what had been, at the start of the night, a gorgeous and top of the line vehicle.

Elijah was pale. Too pale. His mind couldn’t wrap around what was happening. Blue eyes glanced to the cab beside him but didn’t really absorb what they were seeing. The tree had crushed the entire passenger’s side in toward him. His arm was snagged on twisted metal that had once been the window frame. And, as for the window, shards of the glass were littered around his lap. The airbag was deflated and limp, hanging toward his feet. He didn’t remember it going off, but there it was.

Unthinking, he unbuckled his seatbelt. He didn’t notice the developing burn across his collarbone, neck or chest (he had a penchant for low-cut sweaters), from where the seatbelt had dragged over his skin at moment of impact. He pushed the car door open on his third try, the first two having been failures mostly due to his shaking hands rather than anything on that side of the car.

He stepped out on fawn’s legs, looking wobbly and uneasy. Pale. It wasn’t until he was a few paces away that he remembered his phone was in his bag on the passenger seat… He glanced back to the scene of the wreckage.

Half of the hood was scrunched up, a good third of the front – from the corner on the passenger’s side, coming toward the driver’s side diagonally – was mashed in along with it. The headlights, or, headlight, was on and beaming into the night on high beam. Mist from the rain and the warm earth colliding was crawling along the ground. The oak was buried solidly into the car, it almost looked as if the car had been wrapped neatly around it.

Elijah stared at it numbly, then cautiously approached – almost tripping over his own feet like an unbalanced baby lamb – to look for his bag. He found it wedged between the dash and the gnarled metal that had snagged his arm earlier. Something told him that calling Zach would be important, because he was supposed to be there but now he couldn’t come… Getting the bag away from that metal, though, would prove impossible. It wouldn’t budge no matter how much the in-shock Elijah tugged.

Ultimately, he rummaged through it to look for the phone and pried it out, thankful that it seemed relatively unharmed. Though it had been scraped up the front a bit. He hit speed dial #1 accidentally, having aimed for two, and blinked when the house phone was answered.

He couldn’t even recognize the voice. It wasn’t that it sounded unfamiliar, but more that he was dizzy and just felt so tired..

“The car… I can’t get to Zach’s,” he said, weary. “It was so rainy.”

The person on the other side of the line was paying much closer attention now. They were asking insistent questions that needed to be answered. His brain was so fuzzy, though. He furrowed his eyebrows. They sounded a little concerned, maybe. Elijah wanted to tell them he was just fine, but they weren’t listening when he tried. They kept asking where he was. Where was he? He glanced around, and saw the road sign. He’d crashed just at the end of a road, but it was a back road… Zach lived almost in the middle of nowhere. Funny, that.

He read the sign to them, then said that he was very tired and maybe he’d want to talk to Zach tomorrow, but just wanted a nap right now. They told him to stay put, and not to go to sleep, so he sat in the car. He was very tired, he had told them again. They said don’t go to sleep. Elijah said that was fine.

He kept his word to not go to sleep until his mind registered the flashing lights and wail of a siren, and there was a person over him asking questions, helping him away from the car and sitting him on the ground. Lights were shined into his eyes. Their faces seemed blurred.

“We’ve got a case of shock, if we’d gotten here sooner it wouldn’t be so bad,” one was saying to the other. “Bloody back roads.. He seems okay otherwise.. Should be all right..”

Elijah felt hands on him. His eyes were shut now, but he was still awake. He felt the hands on him move all over his body, heard the sound of velcro straps and felt when they lifted him into the back of the ambulance. The last thing he remembered hearing was a reassurance from the person next to him that he would be okay and then the sound of sirens drowned the rest of the night…

The sea of people was close-knit and suffocating for a certain pop-punk idol with itching skin. She had spent the first half an hour around Gabriel to present a decent picture, she’d smiled to him but it never once had reached her eyes. The air between them was thick with tension, she had recognized it even before she stepped out of the limo.

Nix wanted nothing to do with him tonight. The taste of his obligation toward her as a husband was bitter on her tongue. So she mingled with a few people around a seating area, crossed and recrossed her legs and drank some minty drink that reminded her of the menthol cigarettes she had bummed from Vania earlier. She took her time sipping at it, not rushing. The VIP paparazzi were careful not to upset the bouncers who were all brick walls of men.

She sat eying Gabriel out of the corner of her eye. Some popstar was obliviously chatting away to her, every few moments she smiled hollowly and nodded or made a noise to acknowledge she was listening. Gabriel was standing, stiff as could be, next to Brody and Lex just a little ways from the bar. The boys were doing their best to engage him in conversation, but by the looks in their eyes it wasn’t really working. He seemed sealed off in a way that made them nervous. And his eyes watched Nix.

Nix was very careful. She turned to him, smiled just as hollowly as she had to the popstar, and returned to the conversation with a vigor to attempt at looking as if she was enjoying herself. If he felt obligated to take her side, she didn’t want his support or even his presence. It only fueled her frustrations.

Though I’m not angry at you, she thought to herself, swirling a straw and stabbing the lime in the drink with it, I have to wonder why you came if you don’t even support me. Don’t I get to be petulant, too? I’m certainly not ruining anyone’s career… Look at me, I open my mouth and the whole fucking world falls down. I can’t even vent without ruining things.

Not wanting to think anymore, she tried to focus on what the woman was saying. Maybe she could just have fun tonight, and have that be that.

Never allowed to even vent… He’s such a fucking coward, he won’t face me so he publicly flames me and ruins my good name… And I can’t even rant about him in private. Some fucking world.

Or not.

After another moment’s struggling, she excused herself from the company of the pop idol just in time to miss a long-winded story about a chihuahua and some hot pink high heels. To give proper appearances, she stopped over to where the boys were, increasingly more desperately, trying to get Gabriel comfortable.

“I’m going to the back, I’ll be back in a while,” she said curtly to Gabriel, leaving no invitation for him to come along and not even really looking at him. It wasn’t that she was angry, exactly, but far be it from Gabriel to know what she was thinking. She had a wall up too.

Lex and Brody exchanged glances, Lex looking slightly more nervous than Brody (who, by all accounts, just knocked back half a beer-bottle’s worth and shrugged). The curly-haired Lex shot a look at Gabriel’s stony face.

“You sure that’ll be okay, Nix?” he asked in his thick Glasgow accent.

Brody interrupted before Nix got the chance to fluff up any further than she already was pissed. “Let her go, man, she needs a bit of downtime.” He looked at Nix, a little red-eyed from the alcohol. “You do what you gotta do.”

Privately thanking Brody for that, she disappeared before Gabriel got to say one word to her, leaving him more closed off than he had been before. Something that both of the boys had thought to be impossible and were now completely unsure how to handle.

Once she was in a back room, she shut the door and leaned back against it.  She had to make the phone call quick, though she didn’t want to. Her hands started to shake but she mashed the numbers in just fine, though if her phone had a mouth it clearly would have been complaining about the lack of gentleness.

“Hello?” A sleepy but familiar voice answered, entirely baffled.

She hadn’t thought of how she’d likely be waking him up, about how the eight hour time difference meant that it was very early in the morning. Had she been thinking of anything else other than the swirling vortex of pain and rage in her mind? Of how much it hurt her that DJ had done this and how Gabriel felt obligated to take her side, and the way that Hunter had looked at her with those big, wounded eyes?

Nothing she did made a goddamn difference. She was always the demon, always the one who broke someone’s heart or caused the scene. And no one cared how she felt, because she was strong enough to handle all of it. She was the one who was the strongest of the three of them. Gabriel liked to think he was but he never dealt with any of the problems that life handled him, he pretended they didn’t exist and sat on them and let them eat him from the inside out, but she knew better. And DJ… DJ was the weakest, even past Elijah, because he was reckless. He ran head-first into things and didn’t use his brain.

But that was why there was no one, truly, to ever hold her when she needed to be held because she was the pillar that kept all of them together. It was her that completed this triangle; if she disappeared, maybe things would be all right.

” Nix.” The voice was louder, jolting her out of the swirling black vortex with one precise movement. It was obviously not the first time he’d said her name, and a coolness on her face alerted her to the fact that she must have been crying. The girl trembled, clenching the phone with white knuckles. “Nix.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, her voice raw.

“You call me, you talk. Don’t just stand there and let me hear you crying without saying a word,” Zach admonished gruffly. She could hear him moving around on the other end of the line, and then there was a click. He’d probably just turned on the light. “It’s six in the morning. You wouldn’t wake me up if it wasn’t important, so start talking.”

But she couldn’t say anything.

“It’s about DJ, isn’t it? The stuff on the news.”

As usual, the athlete had hit the nail on the head. Suddenly Nix’s mouth was going a hundred miles an hour and she couldn’t stop.

“I hate him! I hate him, and I hate Hunter, and I hate Gabriel, and I hate everyone! Just because I’m the strongest means that I’m never allowed to be weak! I say one thing about him and Gabriel shuts down entirely and it’s like I can’t even be mad at the fucking idiot for ruining my life and putting me through this. I can’t do anything right, not ever. I’m always saying the wrong thing or getting the wrong idea or breaking someone’s heart and I’m so fucking sick of it I just want to throw myself off of a goddamn cliff. But I have to put on this happy fucking face for Hollywood because everyone is expecting this to hurt me, so what can I do but show them that I don’t care and -”

“So you’re angry at Gabriel?” he asked, cutting her off. For a second she couldn’t wrap her mind around what he said, it sounded almost foreign to her mind like a language she’d never heard.

“No, I’m-”

“But you said you were.”

“Then I guess-”

“Why are you upset with him? He and Hunter dropped everything to come out to where you are, didn’t they?”

Her mind was on overdrive, thinking so much that nothing she was thinking made any sense anymore. She struggled in silence, new tears running down her face and ruining her make-up. Hot tears of frustration. Why was Zachariah doing this to her? He wasn’t listening at all.

“That’s not the point! He doesn’t want to be here!” she shouted at him, clenching her fist tight.

“Did he say that?” he asked quietly.

“He doesn’t have to, he’s not saying anything-”

“Nix, you should know better than I do that Gabriel’s not someone you can just assume things about… I’ll give you a pass, though, with all the shit that’s happened lately. But,  really, listen. You’re steamed, and the world isn’t giving you the space you need to deal with this so you’re lashing out at everyone close to you. Take a deep breath.”

She didn’t question, she just did it, and held it until he told her to release it a few moments later.

“Where’s Gabriel?” he asked after she released the breath.

“Out by the bar somewhere, or something,” she grumbled.

“Go get him.”

“What? Why?”

“Just do it.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Will you stop being such a pain in the ass? This will help. Or, if you don’t want to talk to him, just go hand him the phone and I’ll talk to him.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“Dead.”

She sighed and fisted her fingers into her hair, thinking about how much she wanted a cigarette. “Fine.”

It would be easy. The band in the club had subsided some for the moment, the vocalist taking a break to talk to the audience. She checked her makeup and tidied it some, and mumbled an agreement to Zach, then walked up to Gabriel and thrust the phone at him. Or, at least, she wanted to thrust it at him – and the thrust was there, in theory – but it looked more like, to anyone who wasn’t Gabriel or herself, that she’d just held it out.

His eyebrow raised in the barest of manners to her, invisible to others, and he took the phone without asking. If Gabriel had anything on his mind, he wasn’t saying it. The only thing he said, in fact, was:

“Hello, Zachariah.”

“Hey,” was the return voice, a little tired and impatient but friendly just the same. Gabriel was smart enough to know Nix had likely woken the other male up. He said nothing, just letting Zach say his piece. “Your wife is about to go off of the deep end. I’m not here to tell you what to do, obviously, but shutting down on her right now is probably not the best course of action if you want her to stay sane. She’s got enough on her hands with the paparazzi and DJ, she doesn’t need to feel like you don’t understand her either.”

A pause. The chance for Gabriel to say something. He didn’t. Not that Zach had expected him to.

“But what the fuck do I know, right? I’m just that guy who sticks his nose into your family business,” Zach smiled to the phone. There was the sound of a zippo lighter flipping open, the click of it being used and then it flipping shut.

Gabriel opened his mouth this time, his eyebrows once again creeping up just slightly. “Since when do you smoke?”

“Since getting involved with this entire family. You lot are bad influences.” There was teasing in Zach’s voice, words mumbled through the haze of smoke. His voice quickly gained that serious edge it’d had before. “I’m not telling you what to do, Gabe. I understand she’s hard-headed and right now it’s like trying to contain a volcano… but keep in mind she doesn’t mean anything that’s spewing out of her mouth. Really, it’s not my business if you’re edgy around her, but she can tell. Just thought you should know that.”

Gabriel said nothing, his eyes glancing coolly at Nix who was having an interesting conversation with a rapper at the bar. The cogs in his brain were clearly turning.

“Thank you, Zachariah.” It was unreadable, and dismissive; though it did not – necessarily – dismiss what had been said.

“Not a problem. You can hand the phone back to her, I think she needs to scream it out now.”

“Yes, I think she does.”

Zach closed his eyes, understanding why it was so frustrating for Nix to try and handle the concept of Gabriel being closed off with her when she was already facing so much. When Nix came back on the phone, she retreated to the back of the bar and proceeded to shriek until she was incoherent about how she felt in regards to DJ and what he’d done. Luckily for her, the club’s band had kicked up louder than ever and the music drowned out every screech so no one came looking for her.

Also luckily for her, Zach was a patient and good listener. He nodded gently and listened to her, never interrupting with anything more than a few consolation words. And when she was finally done, reduced to a quivering and sobbing mess, holding her head, he asked her how she felt.

And she laughed mid-sniffle.

“Thank you,” she whispered, wiping her eyes. “I needed that.”

“Who would you run to if you didn’t run to me?” he asked lowly, and her silence told him what he’d already known. If something had happened, she would have run to DJ. If something with DJ happened, she would have run to Gabriel. If something happened with DJ and Gabriel was emotionally unavailable because he had sealed himself from her, she would talk to Elijah.

But Elijah was having his own problems getting ready for his tour and a slowly building eating disorder, shutting himself into his room and shutting down from DJ. DJ had no one to talk to, either, and for that she felt a bit better, then a lot worse. Who was she to smile when someone else was miserable…?

Something happened with DJ. Gabriel was unavailable. Elijah was hurting. If Zach hadn’t been there…

Another very long moment and she answered in a voice completely, utterly devoid of all emotion:

“I would have thrown myself off of the hotel deck that night.”

Zach thought this over, flicking his cigarette into an ashtray. “How many stories up?”

“Eleven.”

“That would have done it.”

“Yes.”

Some silence.

“You’re definitely feeling better now?”

“Yes, I am…” a very soft smile, and these were the first words she’d uttered that hadn’t been laced with anger or bitterness all night. She repeated herself. “Thank you.”

“Not a problem. Call me tomorrow morning… Or, tonight, for me.”

“I will.”

“Good. Take care, you.”

And then the phone call was over and she sat in the back room for a long while before she fixed up her make-up and went back out, putting on her flawless hollow smile… But some of the weight had been lifted and the smile was easier to maintain.

Nix reported in an interview with Punk’n'Pop Magazine!, that you are afraid of your own fans. Would you say this was accurate?

Unfortunately… yeah, I would. There are some measures that fans go to that can be so extreme, it becomes intimidating. Just the other day, someone called DJ in the middle of the night – we were both woken up by it. No idea how she got the number at all. When things like that happen, it’s hard to avoid being concerned.

That does seem scary. Has anything like that ever happened to you?

I’ve had a few close calls. For instance, one fan managed to corner me in Rome after I’d just finished the set. She really shouldn’t have been able to get by the guards – I’m not sure how she did… There was a sort of… A sort of fierce hunger in her eyes. It was more than a little uncomfortable. (nervous laugh) I took a photo with her, and signed her things. The way she leered at me.

What about the once in Paris, outside of the recording studio?

Oh no, you’re going to make me relive that? (sighs) Well, a very enthusiastic mini-mob of girls managed to tear my shirt off…

You wouldn’t think the crowd would go so wild over a pianist. You’ve climbed the charts remarkably, gaining more fame with teen girls than any other pianist in UK history.

You wouldn’t think so, no… And that’s a bit scary. I still get some who have the belief in their head that we’re destined to be together. I hate disappointing them, but at the same time – I have DJ. I’ve been out of the closet for a number of years. I don’t know what else to tell them. I’ve seen them crying, holding their signs up for me. It’s just not going to happen.

You seem tired of it.

I am, just a little. The spotlight can be very bright.

What do you mean by that? Are you thinking of retiring so early in your career?

I won’t lie, I’ve thought of it before. The entire upcoming tour almost was canceled, though no one knows that… The paparazzi scandals that went on sort of drained me of any will to be in the spotlight.

That seems pretty bleak.

I can be a very bleak person. Others don’t see it as often, but my family does. It scares them, from time to time.

Scares them? Truly you can’t be that bleak…? What would scare them so much?

There are times when the intensity of touring weighs on me a lot. I end up with headaches, after each show – I push through them for hours on end just to stand there and sign things for the fans. Major migraines, they leave me crying. The lights, the sounds of it all. It’s too hard to sleep well on tour, and I end up eating very little. My family gets very scared for me, I hate that.

You sound as if you hate fame.

I do.

Why do you stay, if you hate it?

There are some fans who make it worth the while… I hardly ever see them, but I know they’re out there. It would break them for me to step back. They’re the ones I stay for, after the shows. They’re the ones I care about playing for. … I also stay because, simply, I enjoy the stage – when I play, while I play, it’s wonderful. The headaches come from the screaming, and the lights.

Let’s talk about your engagement to DJ Clayton. He has said in interviews that you mean the world to him, yet there was all of this controversy earlier in the year surrounding your sister and him. How do you feel toward that? I know you hate this subject, so if you’d rather not answer…

(uneasy laugh) No, I’ll answer it. … During the entire mess, there was a very big sense of urgency churning around in the fan-base. I ought to have addressed it then, but I didn’t because at that point I had a very poor publicist who made lousy decisions.

You’re talking about Peter…?

Yes. Halfway through the incident, I signed Mark on to be my publicist. He is much more suited for the job, and a likeable guy.

All right, continue…

I used to be quite bitter about the residual emotion between my sister and DJ. This was right at the beginning, when I was feeling inadequate compared to her. She’s this bright, shining star… And she seemed to fit with him much better than I should. So I would get jealous, and feel cut out from the pack. … Things have really changed, since then. It was only a few months in when I realized that they didn’t bother me anymore.

‘They’?

Well, yes, at that point in time things were a little more convoluted than the simple she-is-with-Gabriel-now message that cropped up. For a while, it was like a no-man’s-land. They almost shared her.

Will they be comfortable with you telling us this?

I’m not sure it’s any great secret. Look at the paparazzi photos. Yes, they were extremely close. No, they hadn’t been sleeping together but yes they were in love. It would have bothered me, before.

How did you feel during the time of the scandal, about it?

I hated it. I wanted to protect them… but who could I ever protect? (laughs bitterly) I love them both. At the time, I loved their love very much. It sounds a little self-defeating, when I put it that way, but it wasn’t at all. It was something special that belonged between them. I was – and am, and would have stayed – secure in where I was. There was absolutely no fear for me that they’d run off with each other.

And now how do you feel, with the recent fall out that they’ve had?

I’m angry, at the both of them.

(At this point I fall silent in shock, for anger is unheard of from this tiny pianist.) …You’re angry?

Yes. At the both of them. It has become immature on both sides, in different ways. DJ has denounced that he loves her at all. I think it’s much more complex than that. You do not suddenly say ‘I am no longer in love with you.’ The case may be that he cannot afford to hold onto her any longer, but he still loves her – and I’m angry because he won’t admit that, not because I want him to love her. I just want the honesty. My fans and his fans, and maybe some of hers, and definitely my family will be shocked to hear this from me. It’s true, though.

And what about your sister, why are you angry with her? It seems like she is trying to cover up her feelings toward the situation. She’s been very delicate in interviews, and persistently says she hasn’t fallen out of love with him.

Which she hasn’t. She’s a mess, which is part of the reason I’m angry at him. My sister shouldn’t have to be a mess right now – she’s about to kick off an excellent tour, her single has hit airwaves at a very good chart position. There is too much to her day. The day she got home from her honeymoon, she had stayed up for two nights straight before flying out, through a horror film that actually scared her – which they never do – and through a house tour, through a ridiculously long flight from Melbourne to London. Anyone wouldn’t have been blamed for canceling everything and just crashing. Not her, she spent hours signing things for the fans at the airport – who take her for granted. Then she went through four interviews, a rigorous vocal practice session to make up for the time she took off jamming; she entertained a fan over dinner. She came home, wanting nothing but to sleep, to have things with DJ be thrust into her face, which is really where I’m angry with him. It was poor timing… Not to mention that he did it through a note, which is absolutely ridiculous. They ought to have spoken, preferably after she at least got some sleep. … But on the other side of the coin, she’s hiding how much it’s hurt her from everyone except for Gabriel. That’s a wrong thing to do, too.

You sound more angry with him than you are with her.

I am, just a little. Also because, out of the two of them, he will handle my anger better than she will. I can go home, hold him, kiss that away. There are lots of things on her mind, and I’m not nearly as good as soothing her worries.

What do you think your family and fans will feel once they hear this confession of anger?

(sighs) I suspect that DJ will feel upset I haven’t confessed to being angry at him to him first. He’ll feel lost, maybe even shut down from me a little bit to hide how much it hurt him. He needs a swift kick in the ass, he just didn’t expect it from me – they both need it. I think Gabriel will think I’ve lost my mind, or that delirious from not eating, or sleeping – which I’m not, by the way, Gabriel. I’m just very tired. Emotionally. … I think Nix will be at an utter loss for words. (pause) I also think that everything I’m saying needs to be said, and maybe that they’ll listen closer because they don’t expect to hear it from me. Especially publicly.

Don’t you think that it will hurt them?

It might. The love I have for them is immense. When you love someone as much as I love them, you have the ability to tell them when you think they’re being idiots. On one side, you don’t make it so simple as to say you’ve just stopped loving someone. On the other side, you don’t refuse to acknowledge a problem and expect it to go away. They’re both being petulant, and I have enough love for them to tell them that and not worry that they’ll think I hate them. They know I love them. They don’t expect me to utilize a very public interview to tell them so… but from time to time, I like surprising them. Not only that, but I have tried to tell each of them in private – the conversations rarely went anywhere. I suspect, by now, that they both know I’m uncomfortable with their tension. It shouldn’t be as surprising as it will be.

You’re not the recluse you seem to be, you mean?

It’s not that at all. I’m not sharing this information for others. I want to wake them both up. Seeing a public interview from the most reclusive of our family calling them stupid will definitely do it. …It’s also easier to talk about them, than it is to talk about me.

Then let’s talk about you.

I’d rather not. (laughs)

What is the story between Zachariah Williams and yourself?

Zach is a close, close friend. He and I have been close since we were… Mmmm… Eight? He accompanies me on tour. There’s nothing more than that.

What about the PNX photos where you were tucked against his chest in Heathrow Airport?

What about them? They mean nothing – when you have hundreds of paparazzi cameramen hunting you down, being sheltered from that is amazing. I’m unspeakably grateful for all that he’s put up with.

Will you be taking him along on the tour with you? In the no-holds-barred interview that DJ gave to PNX, he stated that he wouldn’t come along on the tour bus with you if Zachariah were also there. Does this surprise you?

Not particularly… They’ve never gotten along very well. It used to be much more hostile than it is, but things have gotten better. As for taking him on tour with me… Well, we’ll have to see what we think about that. I expect Zach may decline his usual invite, anyhow.

Hasn’t he gone on every tour with you since he started? What would make him all of a sudden decline?

He now has a significant other, and I think he would really like to stay in London with this person. I’d like him to – he seems very happy. I don’t want to tear that up. Being apart from people while on tour is hard, and he shouldn’t come if he isn’t obligated to.

Do you feel obligated to play shows for your fans?

Sometimes.

…Could you expand upon that?

No, not really. Sometimes you want to play, sometimes you get tired. When I get tired, I feel obligated – whether it’s because I miss my family in London, or I just can’t take the tour schedule anymore.

It’s been skipped around quite frequently – and if you do not want to answer, that is more than fine and I can cut this question out completely – but you have a dark past with sexual abuse. Just what is it that happened?

When I was fifteen, I came out as gay to my older sister Nix – who told me that everyone in the family had already had their suspicions, and that everyone at school felt the same. It was surprising to me, but the next school year I came back fully out of the closet. I was practicing on the track after school, thinking everyone had left. When I returned to the locker room to change, five jocks cornered me. …I’m sure you can guess about the rest of the story. (pause) There’s a lot of darkness there, which is definitely the reason that I remained single for so long in the spotlight, even with men and women flinging themselves at me…

So what certain tabloids have reported about your problems with intimacy…?

Many of them were right, I have several problems with intimacy.

Is this a problem in your relationship with DJ and how that has gone? As I understand it, he’s a very sexually charged person.

He is, but no, it was never… It was never this massive, unconquerable problem. There were times when it looked like it, to him, but he’s never pressured me into anything. DJ is very understanding of… Of what happened. And – maybe because of that – I would look at him and some piece of me knew that if I’d overcome it, it’d be with him.

And have you?

Ummmmmmm… (laughs nervously) Yes.

She sits down across from me and smiles openly, though there’s a bit of tiredness in her bright green eyes. I’ve interviewed her before, and each time was a pleasure, but this is something new for the both of us. We order white wine and some salads to begin with, and I dive right in, asking if she minds that I record the conversation rather than write it.

“No, of course not,” she responds with a laugh, sipping her wine. “I can understand not having enough hands to do everything with.”

‘She’ is Nix J. Murray, nee Harris, of Banshee Queen, and she’s ready to open herself up completely. I try to start off light before we dive into the crazier stuff, though I warn her that some of the questions are a little bit heavy. She gives the go ahead and we’re off.

You’ve been with Banshee Queen for how long now?

Ah… let’s see, well, I’m twenty four, and my last band – The Friendly Zombies – dissolved when I was twenty. Shortly after, I founded BQ – so I guess that makes us about four and a half years young.

Wow, you’re so young to have so much success – the band, and you in general. Do you ever feel like it’s just crazy, how popular you’ve become and in such a short amount of time: so early in your life and career?

Yes! I feel that, too, but it is what it is. If people like my music, I’m doing something right – whether it’s the emotional connection they have to it, or just liking the sound of it. …It’s a little bit crazy, though. You never think when you’re forming a band, ‘Oh, I’m going to be this big, I’ll win awards, and my name will be everywhere.’ When it happens, it blows your mind – but the fans, they make it happen. It’s all up to them, I’m just the entertainer, the muse.

So you do it all for the fans, then… How do you cope with the amount of stress it must put on you?

I do… Ah, the stress. I like to walk, listen to music. Everyone who knows me knows I adore watching horror films. Gorier the better, really, but I’ll take anything – suspense, supernatural. I used to smoke, but that was much earlier on and I stopped doing that around eighteen. Fucks with your voice something awful… Outside of that, though, there’s really little stress here. I mean, if it were so stressing that I didn’t enjoy it, I wouldn’t do it. This is the life that I love.

It doesn’t feel unnatural for you, being expected to be all over the place – the touring, and the interviews?

No, not really… I guess, though, to answer that, you have to look at my parents and the situation in which I was raised. Being on tour, being in front of a crowd, it’s in my blood. My mum stepped back from the spotlight to raise us, and it just made me hunger for it more. Like, when I was seven, I wanted to be on tour with my Dad, and I would call and keep up with him every chance I got when he was out there. I would say, ‘Hey Dad,’ you know… ‘I’d like to go on tour with you.’ All of my family was in the music business when I was born, and I was around that. I spent my first few years in a tour bus. It only makes sense to do the same, these days.

If you don’t mind me back-tracking a little bit, why was it that The Friendly Zombies dissolved? It must seem like such an outdated question, but my understanding is that you haven’t really answered in a way that satisfied fans.

There were some differences in opinion as to where we ought to head with the next album. They were pretty workable, now that I think back on it, but if something isn’t meant to be… … I don’t regret us splitting up. I’m still friends with all the members, we just have our own projects now.

You mean like Brody Halloway, and his project The Electric Kites?

I mean that exactly! (laughs) Brody and I are still very close friends. We work together a bit, and he and his band will be alongside BQ for the upcoming tour. I’m excited, it’ll be the first time we’ve played on stage in years… We still fuck around in private – he’ll pick up his guitar while I’m hanging at his apartment, and I’ll start singing. Actually, a lot of songs have started out that way, for the upcoming album. …But, we haven’t done anything like what you’ll see on the tour in a while, so I’m excited.

It’s been said that Discordia, the only album you ever released while The Friendly Zombies were together, is one of your favorite things that you’ve done. Many fans feel the same and have been happy to hear that you’re revisiting a few songs from it while on tour. Why is that?

Discordia was an excellent album. The lyrics, the feel, everything about it was something I’m proud of having done… It’s a sense of accomplishment you gain when things really go right. Even after all of this time, I still feel a connection to what I put into that album – that’s how you know, when the songs still mean something, even though you haven’t played them in five years. What I put into them was potent enough to carry through the last five years until now. It’s an important piece of me.

The idea of a Discordia revisit came rather recently, much too late to place it on the new album which releases in a week and a half. What prompted the decision?

I was just sitting around the hotel, just after I finished packing for the trip home, and the song seeped into my head. When it got stuck there, you know, I couldn’t ignore it. I made the plan to talk to my advisers when the plane landed – it wasn’t a good time to call, I think it would have been three in the morning in London if I had – and just sort of tucked it away. I obviously didn’t tuck it well enough because I let it slip to Twitter and the crowd at the airport. I was just so deliriously tired, I wanted to go home and collapse – you know at that point, you really aren’t in control of your mind. I shouldn’t have let it slip, I really wanted to keep it more quiet than that as a surprise for the fans.

By ‘the song’ you mean “Like Birds”, don’t you?

Yeah, I do.

“Like Birds” was a song that you wrote when you were 19 about your then-boyfriend, guitar idol Damian “DJ” Clayton… Does it still carry the same meaning you gave to it back then, even after what you’ve gone through with the paparazzi and being married to Gabriel?

You know, I’ll get a lot of backtalk from my manager for answering the question this way… But yeah, it does. If you were to hear the song for the first time, you’d think that it’s a love song – and it’s not, no matter how many people try to tell me it is. Even back then, it wasn’t. It’s a more-than-love song. Everyone has a person that they’re very close to in their lives, whether it’s a parent or a sibling or a lover. In my case, that person is my ex – and it was always him. It was him before we dated, it was him while we dated, and it’s him now, even as I’m married to Gabriel. There’s a difference there, it’s a different love. There’s no one I’ve ever loved more, to be honest with you – but that’s because, as I sing in the song, he is the other half of me. It’s always been that way, and always will be, like being born a twin. You have that other half of you. Everyone does, I believe. It’s just that he and I got very lucky, being born into families that knew each other, being raised together. We’ve been called soultwins before. I think it’s a very accurate description.

Wow, that’s a bold statement – are you sure you want me to put that in the interview? I mean, the paparazzi haven’t exactly gone easy on you in the past. Aren’t you afraid of what they might do were they to get their hands on that statement?

No, I’m really not, and I’d like you to include it. The media can take what they want from what I’ve said and twist my words, but I’m past the point of caring what they think. I made a mistake to let them control and censor how I felt. That’s, you know, the first mistake you make in this business, especially if you’re categorized as a young punk artist. Being punk was all about not letting anyone control what you say, or do, or think – being your own voice, for yourself. I’ve never claimed to be punk myself, as I stand by the firm belief that it died in the 70s, but when I let them start dictating what I did… I really wasn’t punk at all then. I’m a bit ashamed of myself for that, as an artist who has gained their reputation and fame by being someone who is unafraid to say what they think. …So I’m not doing that anymore, I’m not letting them have the ball in their court. I control myself, no one else does.

In regards to your recent marriage to Gabriel Murray, congratulations. Was it everything you hoped for? I know many fans are persistently confused as to how you two fit together.

It’s a bit strange for us, as well, I think. There are a lot of… Ah, I’m not sure how to say it… (laughs) Cultural differences? Though I grew up with him, sometimes we stand on very opposite ends of the universe – so I can understand how, to others, it may be a little hard to picture us together. …If you want the truth of it, though, we’ve always been destined, I think. (sly grin) Did you know his first word was my name?

It was? That’s too cute.

I know. (laughs) He’ll be angry when he reads this, because that’s such a private memory. Maybe I should stop talking.

No, no, go on. He doesn’t give away many things about himself.

He doesn’t like to. There are things about him you only find out if you’re truly persistent about it. From a lifetime of experience with dragging things out of him, I can tell you it gets a little frustrating… But…

But?

Well, I started to say it, though I’m unsure I want to, now. It’s a little corny.

Now I have to know.

…When people like that finally do open up, it’s more rewarding than you can imagine. It makes it all worth it, the times I’ve seen him smile. He’s so completely beautiful, I wish he’d smile more often. And his fans who insist that he’s a hopeless romantic and could be no less – which are almost all of them, by the way – are totally right. I’m very lucky.

I’m a little envious of you. What’s the best part about being married to Gabriel?

The best thing is probably waking up next to him. It sounds so cheesy, but it’s definitely true. Some days you need someone to wake up alongside. (pause) I married him before, you know… Very private ceremony. So, for me, marriage is nothing terribly new…

What? When was this?

Oh, we were eight and seven and ran away to Melbourne… (laughs) I wore this pretty little yellow dress, and he wore this tux that was a little too big for him. I still have the ring.

That, too, seems like a private memory. Do you think he’ll be angry that you’ve shared so much about him?

It is… I don’t think he’ll actually be angry, that was probably a poor choice of words, on my part, before. He might be slightly let down, and he’ll definitely be exasperated – but at the end of the day he loves me for who I am, loud mouth and all, which is something I’m very grateful for.

What about his fans, who haven’t been let in to these types of revelations about him?

I imagine some of his fans will be surprised to hear that he ran away to Melbourne at all, especially at eight years old. He doesn’t seem the type, does he? (laughs)

No, he doesn’t.

But he was following me. …A lot of our early life, he was following me. Lifting me up when I fell down, watching over me. That’s really where we fit together, what people don’t see about him. It’s also where I got really, really lucky, having him.

Speaking of Melbourne, you two are in the process of buying a house there. Is this something you’d been planning for a while now?

Both yes and no. I don’t think Gabriel had given much thought to where we were going to live after we got married, and I think on some level that the both of us expected to stay in London. We’ve always been in London, it’s where we originated, you know? Yet at the same time, I’ve always had a connection to Melbourne. I’ve felt myself drawn there since I was a little girl. …In either case, we never spoke about where we were going to live – yet we somehow found this perfect little place on the Melbourne leg of our honeymoon.

I do notice a bit of an Australian tinge to your accent.

(laughs) I would say it’s more than a bit…

Well, all right, I’ll agree to that. (laughs) Where does it come from? I don’t hear it very often in your singing, so I imagine many fans had no idea it was there at all.

When my mother stepped back from the spotlight, she took us to Melbourne. I grew up there, in part, so the accent is real – I’m eager to live in the country where I’ve belonged.

Do you think your London fans will feel betrayed by this?

I’m unsure. I hope not, they always know that I love them… My heart belongs both to London and Melbourne. They’re just, my cities. I love them both – but I want to live in Melbourne with my husband. It’s the first place we’ll have that is just ours… It’s the first place we’ve had that is ours, you know? I’ll be back to London quite frequently – my family lives here.

On the subject of your upcoming album, Hunted, do you find it ironic that the name of the album is exactly what you became while you were working on it?

If you’re referring to the paparazzi explosion earlier this year as I was working on the album… Yeah, it’s a little strange. The timing, I mean. The largest of the explosion – the PNX scandals – didn’t really happen until after the record already had been finished, so it’s a little less strange than it could have been… Yet, it’s unsettling.

How did you remain so calm, what with everything that had been going on around you at that point?

You mean with the PNX people? I wasn’t calm at all. If you remember, I did punch a reporter in the face.

Yes, I was hoping to be light on that.

Don’t be. I’m unashamed of what I’d done, though immediately after I’d done it everyone around me was scowling. My publicist nearly had an aneurism over it when we got back to the hotel… I doubt he’ll be happy to see that I’ve spoken of him in that manner, especially with how cool he was during the rest of that mess… And I’m thankful, I really am. It’s just that… I know we settled, but there are some lines that shouldn’t be crossed.

The media rarely thinks of things like that.

They ought to. If they were in the spotlight, hounded like they do to us, they would see that it can wear on you. People deserve some measure of privacy, but more than that they at least deserve to not be taken advantage of. It’s the only down thing about this business – the cameras are always in your face, you don’t get time to think, or breathe. This is why I have Melbourne, a place to run away. In that city, the paparazzi is different. Interviewers are casual, there’s no sense from them that they’ll devour you alive. London has a lot it could learn from Melbourne, like how to be a bit more laid back. I don’t even get the worst of it, out of my family, so I’m lucky – but I still end up mobbed at the airport, and I can’t go out anymore without a bodyguard, even if I’m wearing a hood and a hat. I love London, it’s just a little suffocating.

Talking about who gets it the worst in your family, that would be…?

My brother Elijah, without a doubt. He’s so young, yet he’s terrified to leave the house – the media has done that to him. I think he would leave the spotlight forever if he didn’t love the feel of the stage. Touring kills him, he gets headaches each night after shows. His fans scare him, though they don’t mean to and they’ll be angry that I’ve said that. There’s just such intensity about this sort of public life, and Eli has never been built to handle such stress.

You sound concerned. Is the problem really so bad?

It gets to be, sometimes. Sometimes he won’t eat for days on tour, even with the headaches and fatigue from flying and trying to get sleep on the road. DJ and I take care of him when we can, but we can’t always watch over him. He’s a very frail personality, yet no one takes consideration of this – and because of his reclusive nature, when he’s actually spied in public, all Hell breaks loose.

I remember a few years ago his clothes were nearly torn from him as he exited a recording studio. He’s even younger than you are, to be in the spotlight that he’s in now. How did he end up there?

Have you ever seen him on-stage?

… Oh, you’re waiting for me to answer personally. No, I haven’t had the chance to. Is he good?

If you had seen him on-stage, you’d understand how he ended up in the limelight. It’s the only reason why he doesn’t leave, I think. He loves to play music – that’s what he does. His music is his life and, when he plays, his enthusiasm for life shows through it. Elijah is the most talented person I know, it’s heartbreaking to see what fame has done to him.

You’re so critical of the spotlight, yet you thrive in it. Is it possible to have such a love-hate relationship with something?

I think you should try living in it before you ask me that question again. (laughs) Yes, it’s more than possible. I think every musician, actor, what-have-you struggles with the same thing. There are things you love, and live for. I live for my fans, being on stage, making the music that I love. …Then there are things that you can’t stand. For me it’s the fatigue on the road, the paparazzi, having to deal with the strain of the public on my relationships. Still, what keeps me here is that the things that are bad are balanced out or outweighed by the good. The paparazzi, I don’t care for, and there’s nothing good about them. The strain on my relationships has only ever made them stronger. And the fatigue on the road vanishes the instant you get out in front of that crowd. They really lend their energy to you.

Is there one crowd you especially love playing? A certain city, or venue, that’s always been good to you?

Hmm… When it comes to cities I love to play, I really love playing Melbourne. (laughs) London’s also fun… Both of the cities have an extreme fanbase that really, you know, amp you up. The energy is intense, out on stage. Also, I really love playing LA. I think that’s probably too common to hear, but Los Angeles is a fun place – actually, maybe it’s just the place that I like, not playing there. …Oh! The perfect place to play is Berlin, definitely. German fans have a completely different vibe about them, though screaming sounds the same in any language. There’s just a lot more dedication in them, I think, off the bat.

What about places that you hate playing?

Oh, no, this is a trick question! I’ll end up offending some fan, no matter what I say here. There are awesome things, and terrible things, about almost every place I play. I think I’ll say Nashville, though.

Why Nashville?

There’s a mood there, but it’s not the same as what I really aim for, you know? Um… How do I say this? (laughs) I don’t really fit in with the cowboy boots crowd.

Oh, I see.

Yes, well. The fans I’ve had there have been great, it’s more the place that I can’t stand being in after the show is over. I never stay a night in Nashville, I either fly out or leave straight from the venue. It’s a pitstop-play.

All right, can I ask what you’ve been listening to a lot of recently?

Recently, I’ve been listening to mostly… The Misfits, Tsunami Bomb, AFI. The usual explosion of stuff. I’m also really getting into more quiet stuff, like Elliott Smith, which I think is probably reflected a bit on ‘Hunted’.

What can you say for the fans who will criticize you for having changed your sound?

What else can I say? Music is about development and growth, and finding yourself. There’s a certain level of maturity I’ve gained, and it’s coming to my sound, now. For instance, there are a few acoustic tracks on Hunted, which is something I’d never have agreed to doing at the time I recorded Discordia. Compared side-by-side, you wouldn’t think that Hunted and Discordia are by the same person.

It is a five-year difference, though.

Even still, it’s a big enough difference to notice. Some artists’ sounds never change so much in their entire career.

That big of a difference?

Absolutely. At the time that I wrote Discordia, my life made a lot of sense – but I was angry. In fact, the name ‘Discordia’ probably should have been saved for this album… (laughs) …But I was really angry, at the world, at everything. There is a lot of intensity there, it’s hard to stomach for people… That is what makes my connection to it so strong, the rawness of it. Most people hate it, they think the sound is immature – and because of that, they’ve missed the meaning. Then again, if they missed the meaning, they weren’t the ones who I wrote it for at all…

I’m unsure I know what you mean.

My fans do. There are messages that we, as musicians, want to reach our fans with. If you didn’t like Discordia, or didn’t get it, it’s because the message of the album didn’t sing to you. So, in essence, it wasn’t written for you to hear. You’re welcome to enjoy it, and I’m glad you bought it – but it wasn’t made for you.

So how is Hunted in comparison?

It’s a lot more quiet. I’ve learned, over time, how to be subtle, I think. It will be really hard for some people to see the connection between the person I am now to the person I was then. Yes, Discordia is still close to my heart – it’s a raw, bleeding album. An honest album… Yet, my sound has changed quite a bit. So I go from screaming every song to only screaming about a fifth of the time on Hunted. That’s not to say I’ve mellowed out, or that the intensity of emotion is gone – that would be untrue. The sound is less intense… The feelings aren’t.

Is there a reason for this, why Hunted is so different?

Yeah. It’s a bit personal, and I won’t bore you with the details, but I’ve started growing up. At some point, we all do it. I understand the world a lot more now than I did at nineteen… I’ve seen a lot more of it. I think you can expect a lot more maturity in the future as well, if I don’t get martyred for it.

Your fans can’t be that insulted.

I don’t know how they’ll feel. I hope they like it. I hope they don’t reject it just because of a difference in sound. Even compared to Banshee’s last studio album, it’s a big difference… I guess if they do reject it, that just ends up being their choice.

Is it so easy as that?

There’s nothing about this type of life that’s easy. Walking away would be the hardest thing to do, but if the fans were no longer screaming my name… Then what else would there be to do? I’d still play music, but I don’t need these big venues, especially if people don’t want to come.

I see. Do you have any pre-concert rituals that you like to do? I know that your brother Elijah meditates, and I’ve heard several horror stories about your youngest brother Damon.

Damon, is… He has his own way of handling what comes to him. As for rituals, I always hold my Buddhist prayer beads and open up my mind, so I can give myself up to the performance when I hit the stage. It’s just something I’ve done for a while now. I never go anywhere without them.

Then those would be the beads you have on now. Are you Buddhist? Do you believe in Kobe?

I’m unsure what I believe… Still, I guess I could say I was Buddhist, yes. It’s a little bit hard to describe, but I also do believe in Kobe. I believe in reincarnation, too, and that life can be painful. I have a shrine in my bedroom, here in London – it’s got tons of bamboo, and Buddha figures. Little ceramic ones, heavy cement ones. It leaked into an interview a few years ago that I collect them, and fans find ways to send them to me. They’re all over my bedroom now, and a few more arrive every week.

How do you find a place for them all?

It’s a bit hard, I don’t want to slight anyone – but finding places for them… I have boxes full of them. I don’t know what to do with them. It will be easier when Gabriel and I have a house of our own, and I can scatter them about – but no one in my family aside from me is Buddhist, so I feel wrong putting them anywhere outside of my room, you know?

There are a few pictures where Elijah has been spotted with prayer beads. Yet you say he isn’t Buddhist…?

Those were a gift from me. It’s more of a memory of me, when he uses them, than any real connection to the Buddha. He has a tiny shrine in his bedroom, too. He’s quite open-minded. I’ve never met anyone more accepting.

On the subject of your fans, they’re quite dedicated to you. Some have tattooed your lyrics on their bodies. How does that make you feel?

There’s a level of intensity you have there, in those fans, that really can’t be described by words. I met one young girl… I don’t really feel like I have a right to expose her, but she had scars all up the inside of her arm, with my lyrics tattooed near them. When I was tracing my finger over the tattoo, I felt them.

That’s intense.

It is. The thing about it – and I don’t judge her, everyone has their own stories – is that it stays with me. No matter how many faces I’ve seen, I can’t forget hers, or the slight shame I saw in her eyes when she knew I felt the scars. She shouldn’t be ashamed, though… you should wear your scars as what they are, links to your past, and a memoir of who you are. Not that I condone self-injury… But everyone has their own scars.

After that, I would feel intimidated.

Why?

The feeling that people expect something out of me, I think… Doesn’t it intimidate you, what fans choose to do with your lyrics?

No, absolutely not. This is why I write songs, this is why I’m out here. I do what I do to make these connections with people, and these are the people I do it for. I love my fans. I love that girl, especially, and everyone like her, who has found something so meaningful in my music. It’s their standard I’m living up to – if I fell out of stardom tomorrow, these would be the people who would stand by me. I would continue playing, if they wanted me to… And I know, that these are the people who would let me slip from the spotlight if I ever grew too weary of where I am.

It sounds like you have a real connection with your fan-base.

I do, and I feel lucky. I like to do what I can to stay connected with them. I sing in public places when I can, and I like to throw spontaneous contests to give them chances to get closer to me. I get a lot of flak from my team, and from other artists. ‘Why do you do that? It’s so dangerous. It’s stupid.’ I do it because it’s what keeps me going. If I didn’t do it, I would lose sight of why I’m a part of the music world. I refuse to become a product of some company, marketed without emotion… I’m just as human as any of you, and I want to show you that. I want to make myself available to you. That’s why I write, for connection – I’ve said it a million times, but it’s the truth. It’s also why I have things like my cellphone which is purely for the fans. Most of the time I keep it on silent. The texts and voice mails that come through are sometimes scathing hate mail, but a lot of it isn’t and I can block the numbers that are if I care enough to.

I didn’t know about that. So, you communicate with all of your hundreds of thousands – maybe millions – of fans with a phone? A single phone? And it’s number is public?

Sometimes, yes. …The number is public, yeah, and I’ll pick up, or answer a text sometimes. I listen to all of the voice mails. I get about fifty of those a day, sometimes more, sometimes less. Some are very long-winded and a bit obsessive.

That’s very brave.

It’s not bravery. I haven’t had any stalker problems yet, even though everyone is holding their breath for it. I’m not holding my breath. If it happens, it happens… Maybe I’m a little flippant about my safety, but I do what I do because I have to – it’s my survival. My lifeline. My fans are the reason I get through stupid shit like the pap scandal. It’s when those things happen that you see who knows you, and who doesn’t.

You lost a lot of your fan-base because of that.

I lost no one I cared about.

Are you sure you want me to print that? That sounds like something that will upset your publicist.

Oh, it will – but print it. I lost no one I cared about; it’s 100% true. All of my real fans, those who I have this closeness to, know who I am and stood by me through it. If I lost you because of what happened, you were never a real fan… And, I’m sorry, I don’t care about those that aren’t my real fans. It’s fine, though, because they likely don’t care about me. If they had cared about me, they would have stood by me even if they thought I had fucked up – that’s what caring means. Casual fans are welcome, they’re just not who I’m singing for.

You are a bold woman, Nix. I may have to print this entire article uncensored. We could make that part of the feature.

You ought to, though I’m sure it would be long. I fully give you the go ahead to do that – I’d like to be raw, unprocessed, uncensored. People need more of that in their lives, and I’ve always tried to give that to my fans.

I think I will then. Before we close the interview, is there anything more you’d like to add? How about a message to your fans?

Uhmm… Yes. I love you all, I hope to see you at shows – I hope, just for a second, that our eyes connect and I feel something between us. I love you. Never forget that I make my music for you. I cannot wait for the history we’ll make together. Kisses.

That was an excellent message. Thank you for this interview.

You’re welcome, it was a lot of fun.

It was.

We part ways and I am left with a profound – and profoundly odd – respect for the starlet. She’s been in the spotlight and remained here, through all that has been tossed at her. I find myself staring at the table, trying to weigh the intensity of what just happened between us.

Maybe it isn’t just the fans that Nix makes her connections with.

I go right home to write the dictated interview and add on the header and footer paragraphs that describe the context of it. Then I email the final product to her for approval, just hours after the interview’s completion – I am excited to release this, to help her connect to the world.

I also find, strangely enough, that I want to get my hands on Banshee Queen’s new album despite not having been a fan of hers before, or feeling so close to her any of the other times I’ve interviewed her.

Hunted releases November 28^th, available for pre-order now. I can’t wait and neither should you.

- Annette Stevenson, PNP Magazine!

This bed belonged to a boy whose heart he had no claim to. The very same boy currently had his face buried in the crook of Zach’s neck, having sobbed himself to sleep after three long hours. There was nothing sexual about their pose.

Zachariah, flat on his back and shirtless, was on top of the bed covers, which were a rich, dark navy velvet. The sheets were a smoke color, but that hardly mattered because one couldn’t observe them right now.

Tucked against the tall athlete’s side was a small, sweet looking boy with long, wet lashes. He was laid on his right side, pressing into Zach’s left intimately, hand splayed over Zach’s right shoulder. In his waking moments, the blond’s fingers had been clutching Zach’s shoulder hard as he sobbed, trying to get a grip on something.

After what had happened tonight, it was a wonder that Zach’s body wasn’t heavy with sleep. He’d convinced himself, though, to wait up as the pianist slept, sure that the smaller boy would have nightmares.

Tonight had shaken Zach. Elijah was a sobbing mess and DJ had not been much better off. In the midst of sobbing himself to sleep, Eli had managed to tell him about his outburst, about throwing the ring. Things were worse than he’d thought between the two. A threat? He’d figured the ring had been tossed, but…

That was enough to make his mouth go dry. More than anything else tonight, Zachariah had been struck by the fragility he’d seen in DJ. With no six sense about people, he’d always relied on impressions and his best guesses at reading others to lead him in life. His guesses had been wrong when it came to the guitarist. In a way, he was glad for it… It let him know what kind of person was so close to the blond. Yet he hadn’t realized the severity of the circumstances until those words left Elijah’s lips.

No wonder DJ had been in pieces – Zach would have been, unquestionably. Of course, he understood where the pianist was coming from… And he understood that Elijah would have never left DJ… but did the guitarist?

Zachariah let out a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding, and raised a hand to swipe over his face. He was silently thankful that he’d taken a few moments while carrying DJ downstairs to reassure him that things with Elijah would turn out well. His body was exhausted and his mind couldn’t keep up with the thoughts that were rushing into his head. At some point he’d sit down with DJ and have a talk with him, if he could.

There was a sound in his ear – the soft whimper of a boy stirring – and Elijah shifted. Nightmares had plagued him frequently through the past hour and a half in which he’d been sleeping. Zach wryly noted that sleeping was a loose term, if you counted his alert, exhausted state and Elijah’s fragmented unconscious bouts.

“No,” came the mewl. Long fingers curled into claws that clenched at Zach’s shoulder until the naturally tan skin turned red. Another, sharper pitched whimper came, and then a cry and fresh tears streamed down his face. “No — no DJ, I didn’t–”

It was the same nightmare he’d had five times already tonight. The very first, he’d woke up screaming and crying, clawing at Zach for something to anchor himself to. It was more than a nightmare, it was the fear he’d bottled up that the guitarist wouldn’t want him anymore. Or, if he wanted him, wouldn’t believe that he was worthy of the love – or that Elijah loved him. The terror he’d seen in Elijah’s eyes when they shot open as something he never wanted to see again for the rest of either of their lives. He’d had to see it five times now, and though it was becoming routine it was not any easier for him to weather.

“Shhh, Lij…” he said softly, bracing a hand on the smaller boy’s side lightly. Sweat broke out on his forehead and he wanted to cry. He wanted to cry for everyone in this house. Instead, he set his jaw slightly and shook the tiny boy awake. “It’s a nightmare, the same one you’ve been having all night, it’s just a nightmare.. It’s not real..” Even to himself, his words sounded full of grief.

If seeing the pretty little angel in gasping sobs became a regular thing, Zachariah was unsure he’d be able to stomach it. And he was a person with a tough hide, much tougher than people would think. After all, he’d spent every day for years following around a beautiful boy he loved, protecting him and being completely genuine. He’d never caused a scene or did more than slink away to lick his wounds occasionally, knowing that he was unwanted in that way… and even when the pretty boy had fallen in love with someone else, he’d given an honest blessing and did all he could to protect their relationship, even from himself. The most he had to show for it was the knowledge that he was doing something good, and an aching hole in his heart whenever he was alone in his apartment. The athlete spent more time crying than anyone realized, but when it was go time he was always strong. Hell, he was strong when he cried, just allowing himself a moment of release before picking himself up again.

Elijah soothed down a bit for a few minutes, and Zach wondered if he’d finally managed to console the boy some when the blond let out a choking sob and clung to him for dear life. Zach’s body went rigid. For a few seconds, he didn’t breathe, just tense… his eyes closed and he let out a slow breath through his teeth, then resumed the task of softly talking to the pianist.

Sleeping was out of the question.

After hours of laying with his best friend and helping him navigate through the stormy night, he sat up a bit and pushed a hand through his messy brown-black hair. His eyes were bloodshot, his muscles were tight. The stress and fatigue was unflattering on the sporty male. A knock came on the door, so quiet that it would have been missed if both parties had been asleep, even with Elijah’s sleep being fitful.

“C’min,” Zach grumbled, just loud enough to be heard if the person were listening intently. Luckily, they were. A second later, the door opened and Nix came in. She didn’t look much better than he did, but she had gotten some sleep, which was more than he could attest to. Immediately, she handed him a mug of strong black coffee. “..Thanks.”

Her eyes weren’t on him, though. They were on her brother, who looked so small and fragile, curled up next to Zach. His arm was draped around Zach’s waistline, though the taller of the two was sitting up now. His face was buried against Zach’s hip, but a tear-streaked cheek was visible under a mass of curls.

“Nightmares?” she asked wearily, sitting on the end of the bed so carefully that you may think she were balancing playing cards. Her green eyes looked haunted… Zach thought that they probably were.

“Nightmares,” he said grimly, drinking down a few gulps of the burning hot coffee. He could feel it burn a pathway down his throat and even when it settled into his stomach. “Every fifteen minutes, almost.”

“Oh, Eli…” the girl whispered, reaching out and tucking a bit of his hair away from his face. Both she and Zach were too afraid to move him from his current position, even if it was awkward to see. After a few seconds, she finally looked at Zachariah. “Do you want something to eat…? I was going to make food and deliver it… I don’t think you’ll be leaving any time soon, and I know Gabriel will want to stay with DJ…”

Zach met her eyes. “If it isn’t a problem,” he said slowly.

“It isn’t.”

He placed the mug on the nightstand and looked down at Elijah, who had curled around him. There was a fondness in his eyes that Nix recognized and pitied. He would always be the one in limbo, always willing to drop everything for the chance to be anything to Elijah. Zach glanced up and caught the pity creeping on her face. His eyes narrowed slightly, but when he spoke his voice wasn’t threatening.

“I don’t want you to feel bad for me,” came the low intone. “He’s everything to me. That’s the way I want it. I have no reason to feel sorry, I choose to stay by his side.”

Zachariah, the ever-faithful dog.

He watched her as some pity – but not all – faded from her eyes, replaced by a sad understanding he wasn’t sure was any better. “I know you do,” was all she said, before standing up and leaving just as quietly as she’d come in. Behind her, Zach’s expression slowly drew somber. He looked off to the side, fist braced against his lips, trying to decide what her words meant and knowing he didn’t want to know.

]]> http://theharrisside.wordpress.com/2009/10/15/51/feed/ 0 livininlimelightrp http://theharrisside.wordpress.com/2009/09/30/mano-e-mano-publicist-to-publicist/ http://theharrisside.wordpress.com/2009/09/30/mano-e-mano-publicist-to-publicist/#comments Wed, 30 Sep 2009 22:22:58 +0000 livininlimelightrp http://theharrisside.wordpress.com/?p=48 ]]> Mark stared at his cellphone, then the paper in his hands. Calling other publicists made him exceptionally nervous, but between the kids – with the pesky Peter, Elijah’s former publicist, out of the way anyhow – they all had decent, respectable people working for them. Dean and Corey were experts in their field, never reacting with stupid panic or cynicism. They simply figured out the best angle to work things and rolled with it, and he enjoyed – usually – working with them. Recently though, with the rapid downhill spinning of the entire Clayton-Harris clan, it was more like too many cooks in the kitchen. Still, there were many people he’d hate far worse to have to cooperate with. Dean and Corey were likable guys who did their jobs.

So he dialed in the number for Corey and sat back in his chair. Just for the sake of being close to the entire bundle of the clan, he’d followed them out to NYC and was secretly thankful that his firm had a US HQ here.

“Hey, Corey, it’s Mark,” he railed off, tapping his pen against his desk. He absently noted that his left foot itched, but forgot about it and dove into the heart of why he’d called. “Elijah fired his publicist, Peter Wallace, this morning and I was approached about the position. The papers were signed immediately and I now represent both Harrises -which, honestly, I’m glad for.”

Mark wasn’t that old, maybe just around forty five or forty six, and he was handsome despite his somewhat stocky frame. Being so good at what he did had come at the price of having a personal life, but he didn’t mind. More than anything in the world he had a certain sort of affection for his clients, who leaned on him the most when they couldn’t begin to think of what to do. He had a steady hand and a clear mind, and was very goal-driven. It made for an ace publicist.

“That trash publicist, Peter, is entirely the one to blame for the recent fiasco. Any reasonable man wouldn’t have sent a lamb into a den of wolves – we all would have seen the result of that one. You and I both know the interview should have been canceled, or at the very least conducted phone-only…” A hefty sigh left his mouth and he rubbed at his jaw. “Since the bastard was only ‘doing his job’ as he saw fit, there’s nothing we can legally charge him with, but we’re still left with his mess.”

His moustache was getting a bit rascally, he reminded himself to trim it later on, and then continued. “In the Kerrang! interview, Elijah spoke – somewhat at length, I believe – about the day that DJ proposed to him, and what that meant to him. Of course, with the three of us tying anyone up in litigation that we can manage to, and the fact that they signed a contract saying they would not publish anything relevant to current events… Well, K!’s editor in chief approached me about it, wanting to know – since Elijah recently changed publicists and the document may be void, honestly, I haven’t gotten a great look at it yet with the recent developments – if they should cut the section anyhow.”

A pause, just for effect. “I told them to run it. We all know that we need a good slant on the relationships, the real relationships, especially now that Zachariah’s tossed himself into the breach. I’m hoping that it will buffer the recent backlash against Elijah, and show how much the two mean to each other.” The moustachioed older male continued, a bit grimly. “Now, for why I’ve called you… I’ve noticed, it’s a bit hard to miss, that a large majority of DJ’s fans are outright furious with Elijah, reacting with hatred and trash talk. I’d like you to gag that as much as you can.”

He licked his lips. “I know that we only have so much control over what the fans think. He’s their idol, they want to hear it from him and no one else, and only then will the most of them back down. I don’t intend to push Damian any more than he can handle, so I’ll leave you to decide if he’s up for it or not, but I’d appreciate it if you were to consider having him tell his fans directly that any retaliation or foul language toward his fiance will not fly with him. I’ll understand if you don’t want him under that stress.”

“When you get this message, please call me back; in situations like this it’s really about crunching for time. Without the very best we can give them, there’s a good chance these relationships won’t survive the stress, and I’d hate for that. Speaking not as a publicist, but a friend of the families, they’re sweet, all of them. I’ve dedicated myself to fixing this mess, regardless of the paycheck that’s in it for me.”

“I haven’t spoken with Dean as of yet, though we’re in the works for moving forward with a few staged appearances later on. I regret to say that their situation looks very bleak and, from what Dean and Nix have both told me, Gabriel has stopped wearing his engagement ring.” Another sigh left his lips and he rubbed his forehead. Nix had been in tears when she’d called and informed him of that recent development. From a girl who almost never cried, so frequent tears and even fainting spells were unsettling to say the very least. He’d been her representative for a long, long time, and had never seen her so ill with worry and stress. “…I would hate to put them out in the spotlight to see fake smiles on their faces, so we’re waiting a bit to see if their relationship can recover. I honestly hope that it can.”

Clearing his throat, he straightened up a bit more within his chair and nodded into the phone (not that Corey would have known this). “Right, so when you get this, call me. I’ve got a lot of work to do. Ciao.”

The rich and famous never have it as easy as some people believe they do.

Nix fell onto her bed numbly. Things had been going well with Gabriel up until the paparazzi decided to cash in on something that was old hat… but did anyone on the planet know her better than Gabriel, know the ins and outs of her mind? He was, of course, the one who had told her that he didn’t mind her and DJ still having that love for one another. Gabriel had given the go-ahead one hundred times over to the extremely panicked Nix, who always had worried about what the trumpet player felt.

Now it seemed like the entire world was coming to an end, all because of a teeny kiss. She’d tried, tonight. Urged on by her publicist, she had approached Gabriel, intent on forcing him to fess up. It didn’t work the same way that it would have with DJ, she noticed. When pushed, Gabriel reacted in a way that made her wonder if he’d ever respect her again. Trying to gloss that over, she’d told him that she’d drop everything if she had to, that she’d break DJ’s heart, neatly leaving out that it would absolutely kill her inside to do so.

It’d kill them all.

“I can’t deal with this,” she whimpered, grabbing her phone and clicking the speed dial #1. People would think, of course, that it were Gabriel’s phone she was dialing.

Yo, this is DJ Clayton. If you got a message, leave it here. If you’re family, or it’s urgent, I’ll get back to you ASAP. If you’re onna those creepy stalker-types, real glad you’re a fan but seriously, how’d you get this number? Anyways, message. BEEP.

They were mistaken. “DJ, we fucked up big t-time,” she choked out, practically a wail. “I dunno when he changed his mind, a-about our being o-okay, but he did and he’s.. oh, he’s.. he’s mad, deej, he took off his ring.” The silence that followed made her heart ache. She needed him, and for once was more than glad that they’d see each other soon.

“I.. He says the wedding’s still on, but.. oh, I don’t know what to do. His trust is really damaged, with us… well, with me. I donno about you, but he told me that…. He believes we’ve been sneaking around, hooking up behind him and Elijah.” Her leg wouldn’t stop trembling, so she stood up and started pacing around the room, driving Rio mad within his cage. The lizard’s tail thrashed against metal bars, and he bobbed his head angrily, going orange. Whatever upset his lady upset him too. After all, his lady was the one who gave him mangoes and he was quite fond of her, having had her a long time now and all. “I tried to tell him that nothing’s happened but he doesn’t believe me. I don’t think I can do this anymore.”

“H-he keeps saying,” she took a ragged, deep breath, on the verge of panic rather than sobbing. “He keeps saying that if I marry him it’s because I’m just interested in saving our asses from the paparazzi, and that I don’t really love him, and I get the feeling that he thinks I’ve somehow used him – why would I have done that, Deej? It’s.. I don’t know, it’s driving me crazy. I’m about ready to hurl myself out of my bedroom window with something nicely tied around my neck. Really, I.. I don’t think I can do this anymore, I don’t think I can keep playing at this.”

Gabriel didn’t think she loved him, and used some trashy gossip rag to back it up. The pictures didn’t lie, sure, but there were only three, and if they’d been fucking in the bushes or something crazy like that there’d have been a shitton more. Bile rose in her throat but she choked it back, trying to ignore it. Her heart was racing and her breath was getting away from her. Was this hyperventilation? She wasn’t really sure.

“I don’t know what to do, I’m ready to give up, what happened to the Gabriel that was always my angel, I really need him here right now but it seems lately I’m leaning a lot more on you, and I don’t.. Fuck it, maybe he belongs with Rory, should I take my ring off too, DJ? Maybe it will just be a publicity stunt, we’ll have this mockery of a marriage, he’ll have his lover, I’ll have…” Nix swallowed convulsively. She’d have no one. She’d never let DJ abandon her little brother. After a long pause, her voice came back deadpan. “I’ll have a very nice new apartment six feet under, with a bit of a bug infestation.. Yeah, his wife tragically dies, he gets the money, the sympathy – always the sympathy.”

She broke down into tears and screamed in rage, knowing that it would hurt DJ’s ears but not caring. Knowing that Gabriel likely heard her even downstairs, but that he wouldn’t come investigate. “I DIDN’T DO ANYTHING WRONG! I HAVEN’T DONE ANYTHING TO LOSE HIS TRUST. I’VE LOST A FEW HUNDRED FANS ALREADY, EVERYONE KEEPS SAYING I’M A REAL MISERABLE WHORE FOR STRINGING ALONG TWO BROTHERS AND WIGGING OUT WHEN IT COMES TO AIR. I didn’t do anything wrong. I DIDN’T… DO… ANYTHING… WRONG!“

Nix’s voice gave out into hoarse sobs and she collapsed by the window where she’d been eying the drop. If she just jumped now it’d save her a lot of misery, but where would that leave DJ? If nothing else, she couldn’t leave him to fend for himself, he’d never make it. Already she hated herself for telling Gabriel that she’d have broken the blond’s heart if it meant something about their relationship would get better. Of course she’d meant it, she was desperate.

“Be careful… be careful with your phone, man, if … the wrong person gets ahold of it and hears all my voicemails and sees our texts, we’re all fucked. I mean, you and I, we can pretty much write ourselves off already, can’t we? F-U-C-K-E-D. More me than you, because at least your fiance’ll talk to you… He’s not upset, not at you, not at me, either. He’s in the same mind as me, sorta, just wondering why everyone’s bugging, like ‘I thought we already knew this, why are they dragging it out, it’s not their business’ type stuff… Really it’s no worries, mate, he’ll be really happy when you come home, still. Gabriel barely says he loves me, and even then it’s only when he’s like, ‘I love you but you seriously fucked up and I don’t trust you worth shit anymore, go rot in hell and die.’”

So Gabriel hadn’t really said that last bit, but it didn’t matter, did it? She’d seen it on his face, he wanted nothing to do with her, wanted to handle their relationship from a closed off, business angle. If that was how he wanted it played, she’d play it that way, and she could make him hurt better than anyone could. He’d regret it. It struck her with horror, a few moments later, that she’d even think of something so vindictive. That pretty much settled it.

“Right… so I’ve decided the only thing to do now is jump out my window. I can’t be with you for a while, even as friends, in public ’cause the tabloids will stir up a shitfest. Gabriel doesn’t want anything to do with me, and I doubt he will ever again after the talk I had with him tonight. Elijah spends his days in a ball, muttering incoherently and sobbing – by the way he has an interview at Kerrang! HQ tomorrow and I’m pretty sure that’ll go horribly. …Look how much I’ve hurt Gabe. Not wearing his ring, not talking to me. I expect him to ask me to remove my stuff from his room, sometime soon. I want to tell him that he can just forget about making it all look swell for the pretty cameras, that I don’t want to marry him unless he loves me, unless he can forgive me… I’m just.. I’m way, way too scared of what he might say to me. Of all of those things he could say to me. What happened to him fawning over me? — Not that that is any better, it’s time he got a little more real but oh Kobe DJ he’s not even looking at me, I don’t exist to him, I’m just a glitch in his matrix how can I fix this he’s everything to me and I’m dying inside and really this fall looks appetizing…” Drawing off, she stared out the window. It was cold against her forehead.

“Did you know I fainted earlier? Apparently Rory came in and was asking me questions and I just toppled right over… And when I woke up, Gabe wasn’t there, hovering over me. …That’s how angry he is, Deej, he’s not wearing his ring, he thinks my love is a sham, he thinks we’re fucking around all the time and he’s not even concerned if I faint. The only way this could get more fucked up is if I’m somehow pregnant and he wants nothing to do with me ever, ever again. I am up shit’s creek without a paddle or a boat, floating around in the mess of shit.”

Silence passed through their one-sided conversation, and Nix exhaled a breath, tears following shortly after. “I d..d..don’t know what to d..do…” In gasping sobs, she sunk even closer to the floor, curling up there at the base of the window. She of course could not tell DJ that she’d be seeing him within the next few days, as it was still a surprise. In all honesty, though, she needed him now. Tonight. The next three minutes of the voicemail passed, just sounds of her crying like a wee toddler missing their mother. True, gasping sobs – with hiccoughs, hitches and sniffles abound. After that, she finally whimpered and tried to curl into herself, tried to disappear.

“N-no one c-can m-m-make this an-any better, D-Deej. N-no one.. we-we’re alone, in t-the universe. It’s n-n-n-not gonna be fixed, ever. W-we should just run away, where no one can find either of us.” It was a good, sound idea that she’d never follow through on and they both knew it. “I miss him. I couldn’t even call him on it, when he said that what I share with you is different and I may never love him like I love you. It’s t-true, but he has Rory, it should be e-e-even. It should be EVEN, he should tr-trust me – he’s known me my whole life, who do-does he think I a-am? How could I hi-ide something like that from him? …Oh, Kobe, I feel sick. This PNX thing is going to ruin us. I can feel it… I just know it. Gabriel will hate me f-forever, and the p-paparazzi will, too, and my f-fans will all get sick of me, and leave, too. And for the fuck of it lets say that I’m pr-pregnant on top of that, because that’s the only way it’d get worse right now, you know, and if it can get worse, it will get worse. It always does. So then what happens?”

Her head hurt, a red hot headache that would have had her miserable and whimpering on a good day. What she needed now was Gabriel, but what she wanted now was DJ. “Just… when you get home, I wanna.. Wanna hole up and not go anywhere, lets have a two week horror flick marathon, and not leave the house, and..” Nix’s mind stalled, backtracked and she was upset all over again. “He said it was all right! I even tried to say no to you and then he’d tell me to go back, WHY did he change his mind what is the difference now this never used to bother him agghh -”

Suddenly she was tired and, having left eight years worth of audio on DJ’s voice inbox, quickly said goodbye without indicating whether or not she’d make it through the night alive. Instead of crawling to the bed, she lay on the floor beneath an open window where the cold air was creeping in. It was a few points above freezing, and she was dressed in a tank top and cuttoff jeans, barefoot.

Maybe, she thought as she drifted off to miserable sleep while lying on the floor, I’ll get pneumonia and die sickly in a hospital bed that Gabriel isn’t sitting beside. That way I don’t have to worry about breaking anyone’s heart with suicide or cruel words. I can just fade out.

“So,” the interviewer began in a warm tone that seemed harmless to Elijah, “I’m Stacy, and it’s very nice meeting you Elijah, I absolutely loved your last album. We’re a bit crunched for time at the studio, so mind if we hop right in?”

“Not at all,” he murmured, his typically quiet voice beginning to fill the small room. There was a tape recorder on the coffee table in front of him, and his eyes zoomed in on it. He cleared his throat. The interviewer took this as a signal that he was done speaking and dove right in.

“What made you pick Kerrang! out of all music magazines to offer this sneak peek to? I understand – being a fan of your albums myself – that we may be a little bit edgier than your fanbase really looks for.”

“I, um..” Elijah took a deep breath, cleared his throat and gave a queer little smile. It had been his publicist’s idea to push the envelope. It had also been his publicist’s idea to come to this interview, as well. The chances looked good that someone would end up fired before the day was up…

What was the name of Nix’s publicist? He’d have to get it from her later. Elijah had met the man a few times and he seemed much, much more suited for such a position…

“The thing about music,” he started again, straightening his shirt cuff. Elijah folded one leg over the other and wrapped his hands around his knee, looking quite casual for now. And then a peculiar change began to happen. Sitting in front of Stacy Rivers was not the shy, easily intimidated young man she’d been told of. He did not seem timid or mild, though his voice stayed soft he was composed and there was a certain sharp intelligence in his eyes.

Zach glanced sideways to get a good look at his beloved’s face. There was a difference in the boy, something of the difference between a matured musician and a scared child. He said nothing, but had a million questions buzzing around and hitting the insides of his head.

“The thing about music is that it defies traditional borderlines, pushes envelopes – long before the world is ready for those changes, music forces them onto people,” Elijah explained, eying his nails. When those sharp blue eyes flicked back up to her, Stacy had to intake a breath. He was gorgeous.. She could understand his appeal, for once, and it was rumored that this happened at his live concerts. “My music does just that. I incorporate many different sounds into my compositions – from rock, from jazz, from classical. And, I assure you, my lives are anything but boring.”

Stacy paused for a second, and then jerked out of her little moment. “Well said. Are there any things on this album that you feel will change how the mainstream currently perceives you?”

“Absolutely. I feel that music is often about change, and that of course goes hand in hand with bringing it about. It’s all in the hands of the public, for them to decide what my music means. I’m just a messenger.”

“And… what about your family?” Having uttered these words and seeing both young males’ faces darken a fraction made her quickly rush to gloss over any new wounds. “Do you often draw inspiration from them? You have quite a wealthy store of musical influence about you, from your fiance’s rock, to your sister’s punk and your soon-to-be brother in law’s jazz-classical wanderings. I’ve been told that your mother plays piano, as well. Do you ever find that some pieces of their tastes end up in a composition?”

Two long seconds dragged out before Elijah answered. “Sometimes. I usually compose alone, in the secrecy of my bedroom.”

“Your bedroom? Why is that?”

Not missing a beat, he smiled a fraction wider, but it still did not touch his eyes. “It’s much quieter in there, I can hear myself think. …And though I get to bed early, a composition ‘run’ can go beyond fourteen hours of non-stop work. I would hate to keep people up.”

“Aah, that makes sense. …But you say fourteen hours? What do you do in all of this time?”

“Play the song, over and over again – add things, take things away, experiment by changing keys. Sometimes, if I’m really stuck, I’ll throw a brick into it. A note that doesn’t belong there can sometimes help you formulate new ideas. It’s a bit of a puzzle. You say to yourself, ‘How can I make all of this work together?’ and you change it around until that note blends in perfectly.”

“That’s impressive… you’re quite young to be such a skilled composer. I know you’re a large fan of Billy Joel and Elton John. Would you be surprised to learn if they were fans of your music? People are, of all, calling you the Piano Boy.”

Elijah laughed at that. He’d heard the name tossed around, a clear play on Billy Joel’s song Piano Man. “I don’t think I’m too young, really. Music is what I do, it’s what I’ve always done.” He reached up and fiddled with an earlobe, then looked straight at her again. “I guess I would be somewhat surprised.. My fiance proposed to me at their combined concert in London, so on top of how I had already felt about them, they’re like gods to me now. …You know, it’s just a special sort of bond I have with their music. …If they’re fans, I’d.. I’d be honored, to say the least of it.”

“DJ proposed to you at their concert?” Stacy inquired, keeping her tone mild. It, of course, was interesting to her. Elijah felt he knew exactly where this conversation was going, but if it put their relationship in a nicer light, he’d feed this conversation’s flame for a small while.

“Yes. It was very romantic, he planned it for months – everyone was in on it except for me, of course. I can honestly say I was blindsided. That whole day was brilliant, I couldn’t understand why he kept pulling little surprises out of his sleeves.”

“Surprises?”

“My favorite flowers, a candlelit dinner at a very nice – cozy – little Italian bistro. Before that, a day at the beach and a picnic… With all of my favorite food. It really was perfect, and had all the right touches. I would’ve been happy with a ‘hey babe, lets get married’. And I told him that, too. He said he just wanted to ‘do things right’. …It was special.”

“That sounds like a very wonderful evening. I wish I had a guy like that,” Stacy smiled charmingly, which Elijah returned.

“He’s very romantic, when he wants to be.”

Zach glanced at the wall and willed the interview to be over soon. Perking up, the interviewer switched veins. “So the new album hits shelves on January 23rd, you begin touring a week before that on the 15th. Are you amped for the tour?”

“I’m always excited for the tours. Touring is one of the best aspects of the music world, I love playing for a real crowd. That’s what makes it for me. The fans, the feeling of being onstage… Nothing compares, of course.”

“I’m sort of sad that I’ll never experience that rush. Is there anything you’d like to tell the fans who may be reading, or any new fans you may recruit from the readers of Kerrang! ?”

Elijah’s face turned very serious for a split second. Did he have anything he wanted to say? Tons of things. Finally, he pursed his lips and let it come. “To my fans, I love you. There is nothing more satisfying than hearing your praise on something I’ve put together for you, truly, it’s life-changing. I must be doing something right, because to still have fans, to still be able to do this, it’s all in your hands. I’m truly grateful for every moment I’m allowed to be a voice for you, no matter what message you hear in my music. Thank you. …To any potential fans, I hope to see you at a concert sometime soon, but if not, no hard feelings.” He laughed politely, they said their goodbyes. It went well.

It was when they finally stepped out of the office building that shit hit the fan. They didn’t notice until they were halfway out the door that outside was swimming with paparazzi, looking like sharks in the water. The flashes started the instant Elijah opened his mouth, he almost couldn’t see, trying to direct his eyes somewhere where there was no camera.

Impolite reporters shoved their microphones into his face, demanding an answer to their questions – of which there were hundreds, centered on only one topic.

“ELIJAH, ELIJAH IS IT TRUE THAT DJ AND NIX ARE HAVING AN AFFAIR?”

“OVER HERE, ELIJAH — HOW DOES IT FEEL TO KNOW THAT YOUR FIANCE AND SISTER ARE SLEEPING TOGETHER? ARE YOU ANGRY?”

“ELIJAH, IT’S BEEN RUMORED THAT, AFTER A VERY UNCOMFORTABLE INCIDENT IN HIGH SCHOOL, YOU ARE NOT A PARTICULARLY INTERESTED IN SEX. COULD THIS BE A REASON WHY DJ IS CHEATING?”

“YES, AFTER ALL DOESN’T A ROCK GOD NEED IT A BIT MORE OFTEN?”

The whir of flashing lights and voices made his head spin, and he clung to Zach’s arm helplessly. With a howl of rage, Zach rudely shoved someone.  He then roared above all of the paparazzi’s heads, “ENOUGH. Mr. Harris has no comment for any of you, and further harassment of any member of this family unit will be handled in a court of law. We have to be leaving now.”

A flash bulb went off just when Zach’s arm wrapped around Elijah, leading him through the mob to the car. Reporters remained buzzing betwixt themselves.

“Who was that guy? Is he some sort of body guard or spokesperson? I’ve never seen him before.”

“That was Zachariah Williams, he’s well known for being close to Elijah. His best friend, even. Goes on tour with him and everything, says he’s a ‘roadie’, but they’ve known each other since Middle School or something..”

“Ohhh they looked REALLY close. I wonder…”

“And you say you’re absolutely certain they have no more pictures like it, that this was before DJ’s tour?”

“Absolutely,” Nix stated instantly, sitting straighter within her chair. “DJ and I don’t go beyond a few kisses these days, and we were only in public for a little while – and only one kiss.”

The manager seemed to consider this, pushing back her blond hair rather primly. Reaching forward, she tapped the magazine in front of them with her fingernail, signalling they were talking about the second and third photos, much darker than the first. “See how grainy this shot is? It almost looks like a night vision camera.”

“I think it’d have to have been, or something,” the twenty-four year old uttered bitterly. “Listen, it was cold, and kind of wet, and we thought we were alone. The park was dead quiet, I mean, it could have been any forest in the middle of fuck-all, that’s how quiet it was.”

“Yeah, but it wasn’t a forest,” her manager, Sherie Scott, insisted. Once upon a time they’d been a lot closer than it seemed they were now. Now, Sherie was eyeing her with distaste. “It was the middle of a park in a large city that’s crawling with people who want publicity. Why on Earth would you two leave the house?”

“Because we don’t like rubbing it in Gabriel and Elijah’s faces!” Nix snapped, to which both representatives of her recoiled a bit, shocked. “Look, nothing has happened between DJ and I in a year and a half, at least. We kiss sometimes, we get drunk together a lot, there’s some pretty shameless flirting, but we both love our partners – and neither of us wants to give them up, or give them reason to feel awkward. Do you know how many times our familial relationships have been stressed because of the mess between Gabriel, DJ and I? Not even adding in Elijah.”

Numbly, the older two shook their heads; her publicist looked a little startled but worried and Sherie looked taken aback.

“A lot… It’s almost destroyed us a few times, but we’ve all been really strong about it, and we all love each other. The magazine fuckwits got something right: we are very, very close, all of us. They’re acting like this shit goes on and Gabriel doesn’t even know about it, but he does, and he’s not worried about it. Just like Elijah knows that sometimes DJ and I kiss. I mean.. They’re really making mountains out of nothingness here.”

She had been ranting for so long that when she finally stopped, her voice was hoarse and her face wet. Mark, her publicist, eyed her for a few seconds before turning sympathetic.

“Right, that’s what we run with, then, the truth: That there are no secrets between the four of you, and anything that may or may not have happened, both Gabriel and Elijah are well aware of. Also, we kindly remind the public that it’s honestly not any of their business about your private lives. The only reason PNX thinks they have a story on anything is because they seem to believe Elijah and Gabriel are unaware, and that things are much more scandalous. We’ll give all of this in a press release later today, followed by a strict reminder that any further intrusions of privacy on the matter will be followed up with legal action.”

Nix felt better, hearing the directions of Mark. He was usually so calm and level-headed that he could be counted on getting her out of hot water easily.

“We must give the impression, at least, that this story is water off of your back that has not impacted your relationships. You cannot seem surprised, or affronted, but most of all, defensive, to them. If they spy any weakness, they’ll immediately target it… I’d like to arrange a couple of staged public appearances with Gabriel and yourself, to show that you are indeed a happy couple.”

And there was when her heart dropped in her chest and she could no longer honestly say that she was feeling any better. Her mouth began to open and close, trying to formulate words, but she could not find them. Mark blazed on past her.

“Also, please do not do anything public with DJ within the next few weeks, and then I’d like to schedule an impromptu concert when he returns. I’ve heard his voice is out, so he can play acoustic and you can sing; it’d be very impressive if Gabriel and Elijah were there, watching and smiling, yes?”

“W… well that’s all, great …and all, but Gabriel,” she squeaked helplessly, feeling tears rush forward. “I think he hates me, for being really stupid and getting caught.. And.. and yeah, DJ’s voice is gone, but.. Don’t you think any public appearance with us will be misread by these people?”

The man stalled for a second, hating her tears and wishing he could help her, but because of his position the faster they got on the tasks at hand the sooner they’d all be free of misery. “Within the next few weeks? Absolutely. ..After seeing you and Gabriel so happy together, probably not so much. If we can get some publicity shots of all four of you having fun times, then even better.”

“So what are we supposed to do, just go out to a fucking amusement park or something and pretend like nothing ever happened?” And then, a bit mousier, “..Finding things to do that we all do together is really, really hard. We struggle with it every day. There are things that Gabriel and Elijah do, things that DJ and I do, things that DJ and Elijah do, things that Gabriel and I do, things that Elijah and I do, and things that DJ and Gabriel do, and none of those things really overlap…”

Mark clicked his tongue, standing up and crossing the room to grab some files. He needed to call certain newspapers and reporters, put his seed in to start the proper buzz. “Well, that’s all right, all we need right now is to focus on you and Gabriel. Seeing as DJ is on tour and neither DJ or Elijah are a client, I’ll allow their publicists to handle their relationship. Right now, the world is either viewing Gabriel as a helpless victim or a blind pushover, neither of which we really want and put a bad slant on you.”

Nix nodded, grabbed a tissue and dabbed at her face. “What if it goes disastrously? I honestly think he may hate me.”

The older gentleman paused in his paper shuffling and looked up at her vulnerable gaze. He couldn’t lie to those green eyes, but telling her the truth wasn’t ideal either. Most celebrity marriages failed, and the rumor mill was almost always why: this would just be the beginning of tumultuous times for Nix. If Gabriel was already so angered with her, Mark didn’t think the chances looked very good at all for the two of them. “..I don’t think he hates you. I think he’s unused to having his personal life discussed, and that he’s quite a private person. He may be angry for right now, but wouldn’t you be angry — aren’t you angry? You’re not nearly as private as he is, either, so try to imagine his shoes, how that must feel.”

Watching her face contort with a new rush of emotion made him feel helpless. “Look, honey, go home and talk this over with him – he needs to be filled in on what our plans are, and at the very least I’ll expect he’d understand where I’m coming from. I really don’t want phoniness when you two are spotted together, though, so… Do work it out. Please.”

The sniffling brunette nodded a bit more, shoved a handful of tissues in her pocket, gathered her things and meandered out slowly.

While she was tired from no sleep, exhausted emotionally, wired mentally and just plain depressed, it didn’t stop her from smiling a little when, on her way back to the apartment from downtown (walking), she saw a fan of hers in a vehement argument. Just moments ago she’d put out a tweet saying that she was taking a break from Twitter, trying to keep a low profile to suffocate the flames of the gossip.

The neon-haired youth was shouting profanities at the other, things such as “Why are you so angry at her? Her entire private life was just AIRED PUBLICLY, and there are people speculating that she’s been unfaithful to Gabriel. You KNOW how much he means to her! She even wrote that one song for him, the one she played with Brody in the park the other day. ‘You are the angel that I return to/when I think I’ve lost my way/And though they question our logic/They can’t sway my mind/I’ve chosen you, you’ve chosen me/They’re the ones who’re blind/Because I’ll sell my soul for happiness/And then give it all to you/No I’m not your sacred Goddess/I’m imperfect too/But we’ve waited for forever/To be able to share these words/And when I say I love you/It’s sung just like this verse’.”

To which her friend and current opposition retorted, “I’m not angry at her, what happened sucks but just because some shit went to air that shouldn’t have doesn’t mean she can bail on us. What is all that shit she says about loving us, if she fucking leaves us high and dry? Ugh, fuck her. You know, if I were famous and fucking around I really wouldn’t find it surprising at all if my dirty laundry came out.”

“You’re a fucking idiot, you know that? You really think that she still has something going on with DJ? Why weren’t they more hush hush about appearing in public together then? I mean, come on, going to an awards show together as dates? Why would you do that?”

“I don’t know, maybe she’s sadistic, and mocking Gabriel. I don’t even know or care, man, why are you so defensive of her, take a chill pill, it’s not like she’d give a shit about you if she heard you right now. Anyways, you memorized the lyrics? That’s an unrecorded song, she hasn’t released it on any singles yet, has she? That was only played once.”

“She would so care, she loves her fans.”

“It’s a goddamn sham, I’m telling you, Adrienne. She just says that to boost her record sales, like every other fake out there.”

It was then that Nix felt the need to cut in, but watching the vibrant-haired Adrienne made her feel like they were both on a losing side. Her friend – or boyfriend – was tall and lean, with a look of disinterest on his face and purple-black hair. Adrienne, on the other hand, was short and somewhat plump, with neon green hair and several piercings. From where Nix was standing, the girl’s curves were to her advantage, but the rage eminating from her was unmistakable.

“Shut up, Xavier, you don’t know what you’re talking about. You never do. If she hated her fans she wouldn’t constantly hang with us. This shit must be eating her alive… I can’t imagine how she feels.”

“A bit like a zombie,” Nix piped up, having crept up behind the two and waited there a while. Even with sunglasses on her face seemed sort of red, and her hair was up. The hoodie and sunglasses had helped mask her, but now she felt like it was no use.

Adrienne froze for half a second and then spun around, while Xavier swore out loud, something along the lines of “No fucking way this is happening”. The girl, who couldn’t have been older than seventeen, had wide eyes and a look of adoration, followed immediately by scrutinization and worry.

“Y-you’re–” but before Adrienne allowed herself to uncover the punk star in downtown London, she caught herself. Resolutely, hands balled into fists at her side, she said words she hated to say. “You can’t be here. If the paparazzi sees you, you’ll get in deeper water, just… just go, all right?”

Nix looked bewildered, followed by amused and touched in the same instance. “Thanks, sweetheart, but it can’t really get any deeper. They have all they need on me, it’s my brother and fiance that they’re after, now… And anyway, I heard you defending me and thought I’d say thanks.” Nix looked at Xavier, but didn’t say anything either way.

Xavier looked worried. Nix gave him a tiny smile, and he relaxed.

“Yeah, well.. I mean, I don’t know.. how you’d do it.”

The vocalist’s brain stalled and she shrugged a little. “I don’t know either. Listen, I need to get back… Need to talk some things over with Gabriel, about an upcoming press release. I’d like to talk to you again, Adrienne, though-”

“How do you know my name?”

“Xavier said it.”

“..Oh.”

“So, if you give me your number or email or something I’ll have them forward you a couple of backstage passes for the concerts coming up, all right? Catch you later.”

It was five minutes after she’d gotten the info, left them be and discreetly snuck away without being noticed by paparazzi, that Adrienne turned to Xavier with smugness.

“I told you she cares about her fans.”

“I– yeah, I guess, she does.”

PUNK ROCK STARLET SPIED IN THIS ROMANTIC GETAWAY… WITHOUT HER FIANCE!

The photo wasn’t any better than the nasty headline, as her face was clearly visible, brought up with a wide smile and sweet sort of adoration. In fact, if it hadn’t come to her in this context, she may have even liked the photo… but she was only one of the people in the frame. The second person was none other than her other half, the person she could always count on to be up for anything that she was, to meet her head on. Within the photo, DJ was bright and cheerful – he didn’t just play the part of bright and cheerful, as she knew he usually tended to do. Perhaps what had always worked best between the two of them was when DJ was with her she knew he had been legitimately happy, and some of that was restored each time they were close. When he saw the photo, however, it wouldn’t even come to feigned happiness – she could picture the indignation on his features if she closed her eyes and thought about it… And because she couldn’t stand to see their happiness captured on film and spoiled in such a malicious, tainted manner, she did just that.

Even though Nix was no longer eyeing the page with absent concern, she knew exactly when the picture had been obtained. It’d been a quiet night; they were out in the more wooded area of the park, no one should have seen them. Yet there they were, captured frame for frame within each other’s arms: three total pictures. The “cover” picture was not nearly as upsetting as the other two, just them smiling and laughing together, a picture that may have passed as friends. The second picture, below that in the lower left of the page showed them tucked against one another at the base of a tree, him playing with her hair… A little more concerning, but not damning. The third… Thinking about it, Nix choked. She looked so happy, too happy – arms looped about his neck as he bowed and kissed her throat. The girl was laughing, so bright and beautiful and cheerful, you could find the hint of a smile on DJ’s lips, but the rest was hidden in her hair and neck. One kiss suddenly seemed magnified into a massive, scandalous affair that she just couldn’t take, especially with it staring her in the face…

Nix heard a slamming noise that nearly made her jump out of her own skin, until she realized that her fist had hit the table, landing square on her own nose in the “cover” shot. She wished she could punch herself in the face without having to answer a multitude of questions… They’d been so reckless, so stupid; couldn’t they have kept it in the goddamn house?

The answer was yes, they could have, but they’d have missed each other. For just once, just one night, they’d wanted to share something not so locked away, a little freer, before he started his tour. She just hadn’t known his tour would cost them this much, and the frog in her throat wouldn’t go away. Goosebumps pricked up along her skin. Nix hated it, hated having something else come along to make her insecure about her world, to keep her in this awkward plane of existence she wasn’t sure she could handle.

More than that, she hated having to see Gabriel’s face when he finally saw it, and she didn’t even know if she could be around Elijah to see it. When her eyes fluttered open, she sniffled automatically before she realized her eyes were wet and red, and that her nose was running. Grabbing for tissues, one hand held one to her nose while the other hand wiped furiously at the tears.

It was this precise moment when her cellphone vibrated violently along the tabletop, running into the magazine with a brrrzzz-zzrrtt-zrrttt. The illuminated screen told her that it was a new text message from DJ, saying:

“omg the crowds goin crazy i wish u could b here ilu. sry no time 2 tweet.”

Seeing it, a new wave of tears formed and she braced her hands against the table’s edge, leaned forward and touched her forehead to the tabletop. “I can’t handle it,” she whimpered quietly to herself. “Oh, Kobe, when Gabriel sees this–”

“Sees what?” A soft voice from behind her perked up, verging on indifference but she knew it to be touched with concern. The concern killed her. Without responding or moving her face to look up at him, she gathered the magazine in an recklessly grasping hand and thrust it toward him (the anger was aimed quite precisely at the subject of the magazine, not Gabriel himself).

The article started off “neutrally”, officiated with a somewhat factual voice:

Nix J Harris, band leader, lead vocalist and sometimes guitarist for Banshee Queen, is best known for being spunky and outgoing… But could this outgoing nature mean that Nix easily grows bored? For the past several years now she’s been on-the-record dating Jazz-Classical songwriter and multi-instrumentalist Gabriel Murray. As of late last year their engagement was announced and they’re planning a family-and-friends only, private wedding for this Fall season. So why, now, would they come under scrutiny?

It’s no major secret that a girl as pretty as Nix would have had other boyfriends before settling down with her Husband-to-Be, and People NX has reported before that she and her latest ex are still rather frequently spied with one another. And why shouldn’t they be, they’re about to be brother and sister in law. That’s right, DJ Clayton, infamously guitar god and crooner one-upped his brother on the race of who got to Nix first. Gabriel, of course, won in the end… or did he?

As for the little pianist that DJ had recently announced himself to be engaged to, none other than Nix’s brother (We see a pattern here, do you?) is hardly seen in public yet his albums thus far have debuted high on the charts, with such rave reviews coming through as to liken him to his self-proclaimed idols, Elton John and Billy Joel. With a tour kicking off late this winter into next spring, it’s no wonder that he’d be so hard at work. Gabriel, we’re told, is much the same – on top of working frequently on his next album, also planning his wedding – hard at work, with little time or interest in play, which really leaves their partners in a position at the latest and greatest benefits, concerts and awards ceremonies. No worries, though, DJ and Nix seem to have solved the problem by often coming as each other’s dates, always insisting that they’re simply going as friends.

Take a good long look at these photos, however, and you’ll see interactions more than just a little funny between friends. To our eyes, it looks like Miss Harris may just be head over heels still… And why not, DJ has an amped career, a cute smile and he’s very well known for being a charmer on and off the stage, if the gossip is anything to go by.

With the history between these two and the looks on their faces in those pictures, we can honestly say we believe there’s something fishy going on here. “Only friends?” People NX has called your bluff.

Some More Food For Thought…

Everything about the foursome seems to describe them as all being cozy and close, having grown up together in a suburb of London, their parents all best friends. However, the rumor mill from twenty years ago tells us that their parent’s band, Drop Dead Date, may have been more than a band at one point in time. Numerous questionable interactions between members led many fans to believe there was a complicated love triangle at hand. Eventually DDD disbanded, leading many to believe that their sordid triangle simply fell apart. Alice and Mitch, once happily married, seemed distant and lost. He turned to drugs, she kept in touch with her ex-band mate and best friend Dylan, Gabriel and DJ’s mother…

Perhaps the present is mirroring the past…? We’ll find out for you, sincerely, People NX.

Kiss kiss.