Moonlight Mile - Prologue

[ahopper84]

Title: moonlight mile
Author: Amber (ahopper84)
Chapter: Prologue
Word COunt: 1252
Rating: R/NC-17
Genre: Romance, angst, drama
Warnings: none yet...
Summary: Hanson the band is no more; Taylor walked away from that life a long time ago, after having a hand in its destruction. But when Zac suddenly reappears in his life, looking to reconnect, maybe Taylor can learn to forgive himself, and find that some things happen for a reason.
Excerpt: I flex my hands, feeling the knuckles crack; they're out of practice, and the sudden exertion makes them a little sore.
A/N: What's this? A new story? Yes! No promises on how often I update, but I actually have a pretty good idea where this is going, so I'll do my best. Hope you like it!

"Alright class, make sure your final projects are in by Friday. Have a great weekend." I watch the students gather their things and shuffle out of the music room. I take a breath; that was my last class of the day, so I have some time to kill before the last bell. I can't go home yet, though; the men's acapella group rehearsal is today after school. I sit at the piano for a few minutes, listening to the hustle and bustle in the halls. Soon the second bell rings, and sweet silence takes its place. I stare at the keys, thinking; my hands hesitate, deciding which of the hundreds of familiar positions to settle on. I'm a little surprised when they choose one of the oldest, and hesitate, as if awaiting permission.

I close my eyes and relent, and the room fills with the sound of the mostly-tuned piano. As natural as breathing, that's how easily my fingers find the right keys, despite the years since they've played them. I smile, a small, bittersweet gesture; it feels a little like looking at an old photograph of a happy couple that later fell apart, but only thinking of that perfect moment. I clear my throat, the words already coming to mind unbeckoned.

"Goodbye, four-leaf clovers; hello, gone awry." My voice isn't what it used to be; half-heartedly warming up along with my students has kept it from going completely to hell, but I wouldn't pay to listen to myself. I pause before the second verse, the one sung by my older brother, but only for a moment. I've sung this song solo before, so why should now be any different? I let myself forget where I am, and instead see myself on a stage, before a packed crowd; thousands of people hang on my every word, every look, every gesture. I mean everything to these people.

The song ends, and once again the room falls silent. I look up, almost expecting to see the audience I imagined. But of course there's no one there, nothing but rows of empty seats, no applause, no one to cheer for me. I flex my hands, feeling the knuckles crack; they're out of practice, and the sudden exertion makes them a little sore. I stand up, running one of those hands through my hair. I really should play more, I think to myself. But it's a rhetorical statement, a suggestion I know I won't take. Haven't I been telling myself that for years now? That I should practice, maybe try to find a band, or even play a solo gig or two?

I shake my head, laughing at the notion. As if I could; as if anyone would even remember who I am. I wonder if I'm even still good enough to perform; I doubt it. Not alone, anyway. I was never good enough on my own; even if my brothers always denied it, I knew the truth. We all made each other better; without all of us, it just wasn't the same. Isn't that why we fell apart? That kind of dependency can be poison. When you realize you're just part of something bigger, it can make you feel so insignificant. At least that's how it made me feel, but then I was never considered the bright one, so who knows.

I head into my office, pull my lunch out of the mini-fridge, and sit down. Ham and cheese on wheat, light on the mayo, heavy on the mustard. Same as every day. If something works, why deviate? If it ain't broke, don't fix it, right? That might sound silly when talking about a sandwich, but I've made it my motto. I was never satisfied before, and it drove everyone around me insane. I was constantly wanting to make this little adjustment or that, micro-managing every detail. I only did it because I wanted perfection. I couldn't see what I was doing to everyone, to my friends, my family.

Maybe I tried to control everything as a way of repenting for my previous lack of control. I just wanted to let go, to not care about anything; our lives were spiraling down the tubes, and I was sick of trying to hold on to what looked like a lost cause. So I threw caution to the wind for one stupid, reckless night. And I've been paying for it ever since. They preach the dangers of unprotected sex, but they never tell you the real nightmare it can cause; the way it doesn't steal your life, so much as give you a new one you can never escape from.

It didn't matter whether he was mine or not; the point was he could be, and that was enough. Maybe if I was just a normal person it would have been different; I could have gotten a test, and maybe spared myself a life I didn’t want. But we couldn’t afford the risk, the scandal it would cause if word got out. And so we planned a touching, heartfelt wedding surrounded by family and friends, my darling bride and I did the rounds of interviews spouting cliches of true love, and then we returned to the hell of battling our label.

I’d love to say having someone by my side made things easier, but it only made things worse.

I remember being so… tired. Physically, mentally, emotionally… it’d just been too much. maybe that’s why I’d turned to self-medication. I never got too bad with it, thank god, but bad enough. I just didn’t have the energy to fight anymore, and it didn’t take long for everything to fall apart. Dropped by the label, the band took a “break” that still hasn’t ended. Without the fame and fortune she’d originally sought, my wife moved on to greener pastures. I still get to see my son a couple times a year, but that’s about it; I never did find out if he was even mine, but I have my suspicions.

My brothers and I parted ways, each searching for his own path now that we weren’t on the same one. Last I heard, Isaac was producing other people’s music; he’d never been all that crazy about the limelight anyway, so I guess it’s the best of both worlds for him. As for Zac, he’s an artist now. He was always great at that, even when he was a kid. Now his paintings sell for way more than a teacher’s salary could afford.

We keep in contact, but barely. Holidays bring the standard cards, sometimes with a photograph. Sometimes I get a call on my birthday. Not this year, but sometimes. When we do talk, it’s always the same dance. We should get together. Work’s kinda crazy right now. I’ve got deadlines to meet. Maybe over the summer. And then another year or two goes by. I haven’t seen either of them in… Six years? Seven? I don’t even know anymore. It used to be we couldn’t go a single day without talking, and now...

The last bell of the day rings. The hallways flood, noise pouring into the empty room. No time to dwell on the past when I’ve got work to do; I throw away my trash and start getting out the sheet music for rehearsal. I enjoy teaching, fostering talent in kids that might have a better shot than I did. At least I still have music in my life, vicarious as it might be.