kris allen, katy allen, mentions of the other allens, cale, charles and et (kris/katy)
summary: it's the end of the semester and kris is home, and so is she. pre-idol, high school/college years, post-first breakup.
Gonna write a song so she can see
Give her all the love she gives to me
Talk of better days that have yet to come
Never felt this love from anyone
She's not anyone
It's the end of the semester and Kris is glad to be home. For one thing, he really misses his family. Yes, even his little brother. Other perks include the all-he-can-get mom's food, the 24-hour free laundry and the 12-year-old pillow sulking on his mattress. Boy, does he miss sleeping on his own bed!
He gets to compose more songs too.
Kris brings his guitar everywhere around the house, and when he doesn't, he always makes sure it's within reach; close enough for anyone to see. It's becoming an easy distraction, his guitar. When it's around, his parents don't ask and Daniel doesn't tease. Because when Kris starts strumming, nobody wants to disturb him with questions, so he doesn't have to answer.
It's a win-win situation, really. His mom and dad don't have to know about his grades or the fact that business or management or whatever it is he's studying means less sense to him than half of the stuff they sell on late night TV infomercials. In return, he doesn't have to disappoint and one of these days, maybe he'll have enough material for a real album.
Kris needs this head start, almost desperately. Because while melodies come easily for him, words don't. Lyrics are complicated when you don't know what you should be writing about. Guess he can try writing about life, or lack thereof, again. His life in college, his friends. Or he can try asking them for suggestions again once the break is over.
"Write something else about the moon!" Charles told him once.
"You only like that one because you thought it was about you," replied Cale. They were in his room and Cale was sitting on John's bed because he was afraid he would broke Kris' ("Because it's too small. Get it?")
"I know it is about me, Cale."
Kris smiled. There were new rhythms dancing inside his head and a guitar on his lap; he hadn't once stopped playing it since Cale and Charles entered the room.
"Or maybe about stars this time!"
Kris frowned at Charles. "Stars? Really? How about something that isn't outer space?"
"Hey, it could be awesome!" said Cale, who seemed to conjure up his ET doll out of nowhere because he was holding it all of a sudden. "Remember this?" he continued, and with ET's hands inside his own, he moved the doll around, making it look like it was breakdancing. Meanwhile, he started rapping to Beastie Boys's Intergalactic.
"No, you didn't."
"Intergalactic, planetary, planetary, intergalactic!"
When Charles began to amateurishly beatbox, Kris almost hurt himself from laughing too hard. It wasn't long before he started playing his guitar to the, as Cale put it, "classic".
And he wonders why he almost never got any song done, Kris thinks then, giggling to himself. He's now sitting on the carpet in his living room, alone with his guitar. Those same old brand new melodies have crept into his mind again, so he starts doodling.
"Did you write that?"
It's the familiarity of the voice, rather than its sudden presence, that surprises him. Even after all this time—although he's aware it hasn't been that long—it still brings back certain memories he thinks he's forgotten already.
Kris looks up and finds Katy leaning against the wall. She's too pale for her own good and her hair has grown longer, hiding parts of her face behind it, and she's still as lovely as he remembers. She's wearing a flowery dress that falls to her knees; her hands wring the fabric uneasily, as she shifts her weight from one foot to the other.
He swallows and wonders if she saw him laughing by himself earlier.
She shrugs. "So?" she says, smirking.
"Oh. Yes," he mutters. "No. Yes."
Katy laughs her laugh, the kind that draws wrinkles on her nose. "What? You gotta help me out, buddy!"
Kris rubs his eyes, chuckling lightly as he does so. "I— Yes."
She frowns at him, tilting her head to the side in the meanwhile. "But?" she asks.
Somehow he knows she's not going to let it go. He sighs. "I won't say that I wrote it because first, it's not even finished yet—"
"No," he says. "Why are we having this conversation anyway?"
"Because I was helping your brother with a school project but he said he needed to get some soda, so I was alone and I got bored, then I heard some pretty notes—"
"Pretty!" Kris scoffs.
Katy laughs softly at that. She stares at her toes then, tucking a few loose strands of her hair behind her ear, before looking back at him. She takes a deep breath and walks closer to him. She sits on the carpet too, right in front of him. Her big green eyes watch him as she says, "It sounded great. Play it again."
"I'm not sure," he whispers. But his left hand is gripping the neck of the guitar all of a sudden and his right one is holding the pick tightly, ready on the strings. And before he knows it, he's serenading her already.
It's wordless and far from perfect but as he plays his song, Kris closes his eyes, hums along and begins to think that Katy is right. He will have to add drums and probably some violins to the song, as well as a breakdown in the middle of it but he can imagine the melodies being a part of something beautiful; something poignant.
When there's no more notes left to play, he breathes and opens his eyes. Katy is still there; her eyes are bright as she parts her lips, struggling to find sentences. "It's beautiful, Kris," she says, finally. "It really is." And he knows that she means it.
"Thanks," he murmurs. "Are you crying?" he asks then, because he's blushing and he needs something to say.
"What? No," she giggles. " So what's the," she pauses there and clears her throat. "What's the song about? I mean, have you figured it out? What the song is about?" Katy asks, and bites her lower lip.
Kris' mouth quirks. "I think so. Yes."