2010. Archie has picture perfect memories, beautiful and clear: sharing a stage in Manila, lying under a skyful of stars, their house in Cedar Lane. Everything perfect: their perfect home, his perfect life, a perfect, sensitive, considerate boyfriend who loved him and always would.
He doesn't know what changed, what the pills had done. Cook had never so much as raised his voice to him, let alone raised his hand - Archie doesn't want to remember those pictures, jagged and awful, they'd left the memories of their perfect life scattered on the floor.
Cook had tried to call so many times, left more messages than Archie can remember. In tears, repentant, promising change, if only Arch would come back. Trying to explain what had happened with the pills, that night in Paris, David, I need to tell you, please just pick up the phone.
Archie can't listen, isn't ready to listen or deal. It just hurts too much.
Cook had gone back on tour. He'd gone and played their songs, plaster covering the wounds Arch's nails had made in his face. How could he have done what he did, and gone back to Europe? Archie can't understand, doesn't want to.
He lies in Brooke's guest bedroom and counts the minutes, the hours, the days. Sometimes Brooke holds him, and curses Cook under her breath when she thinks he's not listening.
Towards the tail end of the tour, Arch starts to watch some concert footage. He's there for the last live telecast from Barcelona, the last concert of the Heroes Tour, when Cook decides to sing "Avalanche".
Cook says, "This song is about what it feels like when you fall in love, when you can't remember ever falling as hard. I fell so hard for David, I’ll always love him. And those of you, in love with someone, tonight? Hold on to that feeling. Treasure your love, treat them well, because if you don't, you're going to lose them, and you'll never feel whole again."
And then Cook's crying in the hazy Spanish evening, and Arch is crying too, in the afternoon in L.A., miles and oceans away.
Archie lies awake all night.
Finally, when it's morning, he picks up the phone, and dials Cook's cell.
It rings twice, three times. Then Cook's voice, rich and still so beautiful, and, and Archie can't say anything, can't get his throat to work -
- Cook says, "David, is that you?" -
- And Archie can't. Oh, it still hurts so much - he hangs up, he folds to the floor, he cries for everything they've lost, that they can't even talk to each other on the 'phone now, or, most like, ever again.
2018. "Hey, babe. I missed you."
"Missed you more. Where are you, Barcelona?"
"Still in Madrid. Barca tomorrow. The guys send their love."
"They so don't! Thought you were gonna call when you reached B."
"Yeah, it's what I said, but I had to call tonight; I found couldn't do without you."
"...Cook, I'll always need you."
"Never tired of hearing it, babe. I love you."
"Love you too. You need to get some rest before the concert."
Need You Now [PG-13]
2010. Archie has picture perfect memories, beautiful and clear: sharing a stage in Manila, lying under a skyful of stars, their house in Cedar Lane. Everything perfect: their perfect home, his perfect life, a perfect, sensitive, considerate boyfriend who loved him and always would.
He doesn't know what changed, what the pills had done. Cook had never so much as raised his voice to him, let alone raised his hand - Archie doesn't want to remember those pictures, jagged and awful, they'd left the memories of their perfect life scattered on the floor.
Cook had tried to call so many times, left more messages than Archie can remember. In tears, repentant, promising change, if only Arch would come back. Trying to explain what had happened with the pills, that night in Paris, David, I need to tell you, please just pick up the phone.
Archie can't listen, isn't ready to listen or deal. It just hurts too much.
Cook had gone back on tour. He'd gone and played their songs, plaster covering the wounds Arch's nails had made in his face. How could he have done what he did, and gone back to Europe? Archie can't understand, doesn't want to.
He lies in Brooke's guest bedroom and counts the minutes, the hours, the days. Sometimes Brooke holds him, and curses Cook under her breath when she thinks he's not listening.
Towards the tail end of the tour, Arch starts to watch some concert footage. He's there for the last live telecast from Barcelona, the last concert of the Heroes Tour, when Cook decides to sing "Avalanche".
Cook says, "This song is about what it feels like when you fall in love, when you can't remember ever falling as hard. I fell so hard for David, I’ll always love him. And those of you, in love with someone, tonight? Hold on to that feeling. Treasure your love, treat them well, because if you don't, you're going to lose them, and you'll never feel whole again."
And then Cook's crying in the hazy Spanish evening, and Arch is crying too, in the afternoon in L.A., miles and oceans away.
Archie lies awake all night.
Finally, when it's morning, he picks up the phone, and dials Cook's cell.
It rings twice, three times. Then Cook's voice, rich and still so beautiful, and, and Archie can't say anything, can't get his throat to work -
- Cook says, "David, is that you?" -
- And Archie can't. Oh, it still hurts so much - he hangs up, he folds to the floor, he cries for everything they've lost, that they can't even talk to each other on the 'phone now, or, most like, ever again.
2018.
"Hey, babe. I missed you."
"Missed you more. Where are you, Barcelona?"
"Still in Madrid. Barca tomorrow. The guys send their love."
"They so don't! Thought you were gonna call when you reached B."
"Yeah, it's what I said, but I had to call tonight; I found couldn't do without you."
"...Cook, I'll always need you."
"Never tired of hearing it, babe. I love you."
"Love you too. You need to get some rest before the concert."
"Yeah, yeah."
"Need me to relax you?"
"Nah. I...just needed to hear your voice."