TILL (ROCKSTAR AU)

It felt like yesterday.

It was funny, actually. Till remembered the relationship as something distant, something that happened long ago and was a tale told by elves from lands far away. Because it was perfect. However, the end was not, and maybe that was why the night you left was a fresher memory than the happy times spent together.

You had met while he was still too broke to afford groceries, during some gig he’d taken up to get some exposure and maybe a few pennies. He’d almost screwed up a few chords because he was too busy staring, but you seemed to find it endearing. Before he knew it, you were in his arms and moving in. Long calls, plans about the future, and a calming, constant reminder that sat in the back of his mind and reassured him that you’d always be there.

You had been sitting in the couch that day, head buried in your hands, while he listened to you argue. It wasn’t like the usual disagreements that were a natural part of any relationship. This was different… raised voices and words that couldn’t be taken back. When you had eventually left with a poor excuse and a jacket, Till knew. He knew what was coming.

But he deluded himself into thinking that it wasn’t the case, and he even believed it. You replied to his texts the following day, affirming that you just needed time to yourself. Till had agreed, expecting a mutual understanding that you two were still together in all of it.

He found out, a week later, from Mizi. You weren’t taking a break. You had moved to another city and told her to deliver the news to him.

You couldn’t even tell it to him personally.

You had been his muse, the one he dedicated his sappy lyrics to. You still were, though the declarations of passionate yearning had been replaced by a hatred so profound that Luka always winced when the fans asked for it. Till wasn’t himself after you left, going through packs of cigarettes in a day and ripping a notebook which contained drafts of love songs about you. Three years ago. Three years since you had ruined his life.

Pathetic, He thought now, sighing as he adjusted his rings, All this fucking fame but still not a damn text from them.

What was he doing, thinking about you at all?

He was supposed to be meeting the others at the bar, but it seems like everyone was choosing to be fashionably late, or maybe just irritatingly forgetful. It wasn’t a big deal, truthfully; he was just looking for something to vent his frustrations on. A trip down memory lane was never a good experience for him.

The memory was sitting right there in front of him.

Till pressed a hand to his hair, swallowing as he took in the sight. The lips and eyes he had loved, the frown and glare he despised. The bartender was listening to you speak with the asshole’s undivided attention, his eyes drifting downwards in a way that made Till feel a slow, simmering anger. You must have come back to visit from wherever you had been all these years, and the last thing you would have wanted to see was your ex who was already plastered on every screen anyway.

Fuck it.

“You have some nerve to show your face here.” He hissed, sitting on the stool beside you and making an effort to not grab you by your neck and throttle you.