3-4: Be Like That

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"Apollo."

The voice registered somewhere in his head. He knew it well, but he tried to keep it from touching him. He wanted to sleep. Not have a conversation. Even if it was Harpia.

"Apollo. Your fucking phone keeps buzzing. Wake up."

She nudged his side, but he rolled over, away from her.

"What time is it?"

He grumbled the words, not even bothering to open his eyes.

"It's two PM and if you don't answer this phone, I am going to.

The name says Powder Boy, and I'm not sure that I even want to know who it is."

Apollo pulled the pillow from under his head over his face, his words still touched with the sleep he wanted to be in.

"It's Hale. Just answer it."

Harpia sighed, clearing her throat softly before speaking into the receiver.

"Hello?"

She paused.

"No. He refuses to wake up.

....No we didn't have sex, Hale."

Another pause.

"Okay. I'll tell him.

And thanks. I'll let him know that too."

Harpia leaned against Apollo's back, moving the pillow from his face.

"Okay, sleepyhead. Time to get the fuck up."

She tossed the pillow on the ground, poking Apollo in the face. He responded with a groan sitting up and running his hands over his face.

"Alright. Just talk quieter. I can't hear that loudly this early."

Harpia raised an eyebrow, handing him his phone.

"I repeat, it's two PM. And Hale said that you guys got rejected by some label.

And that you need to call him ASAP.

And that you should remember to use a condom."

She cracked a smile when she spoke the last sentence, but Apollo barely registered her comment. He was still stuck on the word 'rejected'.

"Of course we fucking were."

He shoved his phone in his pocket, moving off of the bed in one quick movement.

He pushed his shoes on his feet, glancing over his shoulder at her. She was still under the blankets, and her skin almost glowed. She looked happy. Peaceful.

But worry touched her eyes.

Which probably had something to do with the anger that spilled into Apollo's veins and exuded in his actions.

"You're leaving?"

Apollo glanced around the room, half assed seeing if he was leaving anything behind and turned to face her.

"This isn't my house. I don't know when Blake's dad will be back, and my band just got rejected by another label.

Laying in bed with you isn't on the top of my priorities right now."

Her face dimmed a little, and she looked slightly hurt by his words.

She removed herself from the blankets, calmly putting her shoes on like he had done. She walked over to the door, brushing past him on her way.

"Harpia, wait. I didn't mean I didn't want to stay with you-"

She met his gaze, shaking her head.

"Don't worry about it. Your music comes first, right?"

She left the room, taking the stairs three at a time when she reached them.

She sighed when she reached the front door, glaring up at Apollo from her spot.

"Keys?"

He extracted them from his pocket and tossed them to her. She caught them easily, pulling the door open.

But before she exited, she looked back up at him one more time.

"Your priorities are a little fucked up, you know."

She slammed the door shut, and Apollo didn't know what he had even done wrong.

He kicked aside a forgotten drink on the floor and it spilled across the few steps at the bottom of the stairs.

"Fuck this."

He exited the way she had, not bothering to fix the mess he was leaving behind.

It seemed to always be the easiest answer, after all.

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"Alright, calm down. Before you break the fucking guitar."

Blake wiped his hands on his jeans, readjusting the amp controls at his feet.

Apollo's hands shook as he tried to tune the strings. He hadn't calmed down since he'd left Harpia. Practicing wasn't doing anything but reminding him of the phone call from Hale.

"This is pointless. I can't focus."

He sat the guitar aside, picking up the drink that he had set on the table in front of him.

"Couldn't be the alcohol, right?"

Apollo took a drink out of the coke bottle he'd filled halfway with vodka, raising his middle finger towards Blake.

Blake struck a few notes on his own guitar, and the melody poured into the confines of the garage. It sounded exactly as it should. He never messed up. Not drunk, not pissed off, never. Nothing screwed with his performance, or his talent.

And Apollo would always have a hint of jealousy about it.

But there was a reason why Blake was the main guitarist and Apollo was mostly on vocals. Blake had talent that Apollo didn't.

If Apollo was good, Blake was the best.

And Apollo knew it. They all did.

It was the main reason why Apollo dealt with the aggravation Blake instilled in him. The band needed him.

Hale came into the garage through the house, shutting the door behind him quietly.

He glanced between Blake and Apollo, and then at the empty drum set.

"Where the fuck is Vega?"

Apollo shrugged, taking another drink and putting his feet up on the coffee table where a bunch of miscellaneous band stuff was sitting.

"He's late. Like you.

What were you even doing?"

Hale pushed Apollo's feet off of the table, brushing dirt off of a stack of sheet music.

"Not drinking. Or getting the songs I've been working on for six months fucking dirty.

Watch what you're doing, vampire."

He sat on the couch next to Apollo, pulling a pen out from behind his ear.

He jotted down something on a pad of paper he pulled out of his pocket, instantly distracted.

A crash resounded from right outside the garage, and it was followed by a small series of other crashes. The three guys inside the garage exchanged a look.

Blake muttered something under his breath, walking over and hitting the button to bring the garage door up.

When it opened, Vega was on the ground on the other side, and three trash cans were knocked over beside him.

"Uh... What the fuck happened?"

Blake asked the question like he didn't really want to know the answer.

Vega got to his feet, his eyes lit up and a huge smile on his face.

"I saw a cat. Tried to catch it. It ran in between the trash bags and I slipped on Apollo's skateboard and now here I am."

He raised his hands in the air and Apollo tilted his head, disbelief in his voice.

"You followed a fucking cat?"

Vega shrugged a shoulder, walking into the garage.

"It was a nice cat."

Blake laughed, pressing the button to bring the garage door back down.

"You're an idiot, Vega."

Hale sat the notepad back down on the table, this time far away from where Apollo's shoes could be.

"And this is the group of assholes who want to be famous."

Apollo grabbed his guitar from where he had put it, glancing at Hale.

"The group of assholes who will be famous."

He took Hale's bass from the side of the couch and handed it to him as Vega took his spot behind the drums.

He felt better. Probably because they were all there now. They could practice. And in the back of Apollo's mind, he was convinced that practice would get them where they needed to be.

Ten years of this.

They had to get somewhere, someday.

"Get rich or die trying, right Apollo?"

Apollo looked at Vega as he got to his feet, laughing under his breath.

"Blake's right. You're an idiot."

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"Why are you still awake, Apollo?

I know it's your birthday, but birthday boys still need to sleep."

Ryan leaned against the door frame of his youngest son's room. Apollo was on his knees, his face close to the cold glass of his window. He was staring up at the sky, and his voice was full of something Ryan wasn't used to hearing.

"I'm just looking at the stars, dad."

He sat down flat, turning around and finally directing his gaze onto his father.

"Do you think that maybe someday I could be like that?"

Ryan pushed off of the frame, walking over and taking a seat on Apollo's bed.

"Be like what?"

"Bright. A star. Someone important."

Ryan's forehead creased and he looked up at the sky that Apollo had just been so interested in.

He had just turned nine years old, and he was worried about this?

"I think that you can be anything you want to be, if you put your mind to it."

Apollo pulled his knees to his chest, wrapping his arms around them.

"I want to be like those people on TV. The ones who sing music and play instruments and everyone knows who they are."

Ryan tilted his head, something familiar falling into place in his chest. 

His dreams sounded vaguely like his mother's.

Maybe not in quite the same way. But it was reminiscent of it.

"I think you can be exactly that."

He reached out, ruffling the jet black hair on his son's head.

"What do you say tomorrow we go and look at guitars?"

Apollo's eyes brightened and a huge smile spread across his lips.

"Really?"

Ryan nodded, laughing softly.

"Really.

But, in order for you to be a star, and play guitar like those people on TV, you have to sleep."

He pulled the blankets from underneath Apollo over his legs, pressing a kiss to his forehead. 

"They don't seem like they sleep much. All they really seem to do is have fun."

Ryan nudged his son backwards onto his pillow, tucking the blankets in around him.

"Fun is part of it. But so is sleeping.

And practice. If this is what you want, you have to work hard at it.

And never give up."

Apollo nodded, pulling the blankets up to his chin.

"Never give up. Got it."

Ryan smiled at him, getting up and going to the door. But before he could leave the room, Apollo's soft voice made him pause.

"Do you really think I can do it, dad?"

Ryan stared at his son, taking in the serious tone of his words. It didn't belong in the voice of a nine year old. 

"I think that if you want it, you'll get it.

I have faith in you, Apollo."

Apollo's eyes were heavy. Even in the darkness of his bedroom, Ryan could tell. 

"Goodnight, Daddy. Guitar tomorrow."

His words were lilted by sleep, and he was asleep before Ryan had a chance to respond. He shut the door to the room, softly, pausing outside of it.

"Goodnight, son."

It was a huge idea. One that he wasn't sure would ever truly be possible. It was hard to excel at music, and even harder to be famous.

But Apollo sounded as sure as an adult would about his decision.

The only thing Ryan could do, was support it. Help him as much as he could.

After all, he had his mother's blood.

And he had the talent he needed for a singer already.

If anyone could make it happen, it was Apollo.

If he wanted to be a star, he would be.

Rain was.

And something told Ryan that nothing would stop her son from achieving it too.

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If I could be like that
I would give anything
Just to live one day
In those shoes.
If I could be like that, what would I do?
What would I do?