Billy poured the first glass of wine, and Avril watched the crimson liquid flow into the glass with bright, captivated eyes. She was sure something terrible would happen if she drank, but she decided to do it anyway, drawn by those piercing green eyes that scrutinized her, devoid of the flirtatious charm that usually defined them.
-I understand—I broke your heart. And I'm sorry,- Billy said, his tone deliberate, carefully weighing each word.
-You didn't,- Avril replied. With someone else, she might have blamed them, but her perception of Billy Carson was different—he was the kind of man who didn't dwell on his decisions.
He took a deep sip of wine, feeling the warmth of the alcohol begin to seep into him, though the change was subtle.
-Let's play some music, - she said, eager to escape the conversation. Confronting her feelings head-on wasn't something she could handle—it would only worsen the oppressive weight in her mind, that surge of cortisol draining her serotonin to zero.
-Let me play a song I've been wanting to play for a long time,- Billy said, picking up his guitar. The song he chose fit the moment perfectly. There were no villains here, no one to blame. He was simply different now. Once, he might have loved a woman deeply and cared for her endlessly. Now, he just wanted to break everything, to be the guy who lived entirely on his terms. Family felt absurd, life belonged to those who took what they wanted without looking back.
The music crashed over them like a tidal wave of raw emotion. For Billy, it wasn't about purging his feelings—it was about owning them, even if it meant intensifying the chaos. His image as a rock star was firmly established, etched into the collective consciousness. If someone asked Avril what Billy Carson's rock represented, she'd say the '80s. That rebellious, hypersexualized phase. He embodied it, breathing and exuding pure, unrestrained desire. And yet, she couldn't find herself attracted to him. The rock Billy showcased was a reflection of a man torn apart inside, his troubles so profound they became magnetically appealing.
What I've Done by Linkin Park filled the room, the lyrics and melody resonating deeply.
)
🎶🎵🎵🎵 🎶🎵🎵🎵
In this farewell
There's no blood, there's no alibi
'Cause I've drawn regret
From the truth of a thousand lies.
So let mercy come and wash away
What I've done
I'll face myself
To cross out what I've become
Erase myself
And let go of what I've done.
🎶🎵🎵🎵 🎶🎵🎵🎵
…
🎶🎵🎵🎵 🎶🎵🎵🎵
Put to rest
Whatdo you thought of me
While I clean this slate
With the hands of uncertainty.
So let mercy come and wash away
What I've done
I'll face myself
To cross out what I've become
Erase myself
And let go of what I've done
🎶🎵🎵🎵 🎶🎵🎵🎵
…
🎶🎵🎵🎵 🎶🎵🎵🎵
For what I've done
I start again
And whatever pain may come
Today this ends
I'm forgiving
What I've done
I'll face myself
To cross out what I've become
Erase myself
And let go of what I've done
What I've done
🎶🎵🎵🎵 🎶🎵🎵🎵
Avril hummed along softly while Billy's voice took the lead. It was enough—his voice alone felt like it tugged at the frayed edges of her soul.
When the song ended, he closed his eyes, pausing to take a breath.
-I like that song,- Avril remarked.
-It's from my new album,- Billy replied. -There's another one, but it's not ready yet. It's set to release in October. Once it's out, I'm aiming to compete for next year's Grammys, 2006.- He leaned back, the thought of the awards crossing his mind. This album, divided in two, could be a powerhouse of songs. Maybe he'd add two more tracks to make it ten on each side and call it Immensity Side A and Immensity Side B, mixing the songs out of order.
-That would be an excellent idea,- he mused aloud, -to flood the world with music, two albums that hit hard. -
-What?- Avril asked.
-Nothing. Just an idea, one of those rare ones that doesn't come around often,- Billy said, taking another sip of wine. He glanced at his phone, noticing a message from Merche. It lifted his spirits a little.
-Another song, maybe?- Avril suggested.
Billy nodded. -I don't have a clear plan for how I'll shape it yet, but I think it'll be interesting to work on over the next few days.-
The two of them continued drinking, eventually heading to bed early. The next day, Billy had a lot to do, including a performance at a bar—a sort of unspoken rule for rockstars, to keep frequenting bars and performing live for the love of rock.
So many songs to play, countless great artists to cover—it would take a lifetime to honor them all. Every song he played felt like a drop in the ocean. As Billy poured himself another glass of wine, they played a few more songs and exchanged ideas. Avril's talent shone in every way she approached music, her knack for hitting just the right note, and her delivery, which was always perfectly on point for a rocker like her.
-We should go party,- Billy suggested, leaning in to kiss her. She returned the kiss, but hesitated.
-The photographers,- she warned.
-We're just two people looking to have fun. It's the most normal thing in the world,- Billy replied, taking her hands as they bolted from the place, ready to test the streets of London in his Mercedes.
***
The party was a complete mess. Billy woke up with a pounding headache, his back aching from an awkward sleeping position. Avril lay beside him, completely out cold. They were in an unfamiliar house, and he had no idea who it belonged to. Most of the night was a blur, though he recalled heading out with Avril for drinks at the city's newest club. They'd stumbled into what everyone called the "it" spot—Soho—where an event was underway, and they'd been ushered in.
The music was deafening, the crowd wild with excess. Every kind of substance lined the hallways, screams and dances erupting everywhere. Women dressed in the bare minimum swirled through the chaos, the atmosphere a cocktail of madness.
Then it hit him—this was Daisy Lowe's house. The model had thrown the party, and somewhere during the night, Lily Allen had caused a scene with some outrageous stunt. It was a typical celebrity bash. By ten in the morning, the place had gone eerily silent. Billy was sprawled on a large sofa, one he had shared with Avril.
-Screw celebrity parties,- Billy muttered, exhaling deeply. People seemed to forget all boundaries in private spaces. Marriages unraveled like threads, acts of unpredictability ran rampant—from swapping partners to indulging every excess imaginable. The house was submerged in a tsunami of empty cans, bottles, food trays, cigarette butts, and ashtrays.
-Shit, I have to get to the studio,- he groaned, realizing it was already ten, the exact time he was supposed to be there. There was no fixing it now.
-Can someone pick me up at…- he mumbled into the phone while stretching his arms. At least the house was centrally located. Spotting a shower, he decided to wash off the grime with cold water.
Emerging nearly naked, he opened the fridge, hunting for something to eat. He found some fruit and ham—maybe enough for a sandwich.
A voice interrupted him as he bit into the sandwich. It was Lily Allen. -Sorry, I saw you and thought… wow. -
-You want a sandwich?- Billy asked, not missing a beat.
-Sure. Everything you touch must be amazing,- she said with a smirk.
-You're not wrong, darling,- he replied with a playful grin.
-Your shirt? - She asked, glancing at his bare torso.
-I think I lost it—or maybe someone stole it. People are nuts, - Billy answered, taking a long sip of water and another bite of his sandwich.
Lily laughed. The only crazy one here was him, but she laughed anyway. "You left your wallet at the club. You paid with your signed shirt and walked out half-naked. It was the boldest thing I've ever seen. Not just because of the photos, but because the cold at dawn is brutal."
-Ah, now I remember, - Billy said, recalling the sheer stupidity of buying a round at the bar. Unfortunately, he'd left his wallet somewhere—at home or God knows where.
Lily laughed again, offering him a nervous smile.
...