Chapter Text
Julie walked into the studio that day with a single-minded purpose and determination, and that was to finally clean and declutter the studio loft.
She’d been meaning to do it since the guys poofed into her life screaming and bringing a whirlwind of music back into her soul. But now they were a permanent fixture in her life, and even ghosts need a place to stay. So, she was on her way to force the guys to help her clean.
The big white doors of the studio were open a little to let the morning breeze through, so she walked in to see a familiar sight. She saw Reggie and Luke both sat on the couch with their respective instruments and Luke’s songbook. She then turned and found Alex sat on the other chair, with his eyes closed and his head bobbing to the guitar’s twangs and melodies.
“Hey,” Julie announces, bringing the guy's attention over to her. They each smile at her, greeting her back. “Time to put those away boys, we have some cleaning to do.”
The three responding groans make her want to smile, but she tries to stay stern despite the twitching of her lips.
“Do we have to? Why would we clean when we can just jam out?” Luke proclaims, jumping up and playing a great guitar riff that makes Julie itch to do just as he says, but she remains firm in her goal.
“Why do we have to clean the studio anyway?” Alex interrupts before Luke heads down music rant road. Julie looks to him and reminds herself how thankful she is that Alex is, however small, the sensible one.
“Because, the space in the loft needs to be cleared for a bed and some draws. “Julie replies, earning looks of confusion from the boys.
“Why would you need a bed in here? What’s wrong with your bedroom?” Reggie wonders aloud, looking adorably confused, like a puppy.
Julie chuckles, shaking her head at her boy’s confusion. “It’s not for me, it’s for you guys. You guys can’t keep sleeping on the pull-out couch, or whatever ghosts do. Dad agrees with me, so we need to clear out the loft for some space.” Julie explains, watching the boy’s expressions change from confusion to gratitude and love.
Her dad’s introduction to the guys was as funny as it was nerve-wracking. Julie had expected her dad to suddenly cart her off to Dr. Turner the entire time she had explained her experience with the guys but thankfully, like with Flynn, he had believed her after an impromptu performance which ended with him spilling his drink down his shirt when three teenage boys popped into existence in his living room.
He had been happy with letting the boys stay in the studio when they explained their situation, but he was less happy with the condition they were living in. So she and her dad had come up with the idea of converting the loft into a make-shift bedroom for the guys.
She knew they would have no problems with sharing a bed together, as they had been doing since they came to her and most likely long before they died.
Julie was snapped out of her wandering thoughts by the sudden feeling of being hugged in three directions. None the less, she squeezed her boy’s back just as hard. Hugs had been a constant part of their routine since the Orpheum. Now that she could touch them, hugging each other had become a sort of lifeline for them.
“Thank you.” Reggie smiles, Luke and Alex nodding their appreciation into her hair. She simply smiles gently back, pulling him back into their group hug, squeezing him softly before stepping back, the ghost’s doing the same.
“You’re welcome,” Julie says, before clapping her hands to get back on track. “alright, we need to clear the loft. We should sort things into piles of stuff to keep, donate, and bin. Let’s go.”
She and the boys scramble up to the loft to start, and for the next couple hours, the studio is filled with sounds of music, the thumping of objects, and the loud laughter as they clean out the loft space.
Eventually, it’s just Julie left up in the loft, sweeping some leftover dust as the boys take out the piles of rubbish and donation boxes. When Julie bends down with a dustpan to clean up the dirt pile, she sees something poking out the wall in her peripheral vision.
She turns and sees what she thought was something sticking out of the wall was actually a loose wall panel. Curiously, she drops her brush and wanders over to the wall, dropping to her knees and tapping the panel to hear a hollow sound echo. Julie reached down and tries to pry the panel off with both her hands, succeeding after a minute of fighting with the wall.
When she moves the panel and peaks into the hole, all she can see is a wooden box about the size of a shoebox in there. Cautiously, she reached into the hole and grasps the box, pulling it out.
When the light hits the lid of the box, she gasps quietly and nearly drops it in surprise. Blowing the thick layer of dust off the top, she runs her pointer finger along the Sunset Curve logo etched into the dark wood. She marvels at the coincidence of her uncovering a box regarding her ghost’s old band.
Moving on, she trails her finger down to a smaller line of engravings, four names in cursive under the logo.
Luke. Bobby. Alex. Reggie.
Julie snapped out of her thoughts by the sounds of the boy’s filing back into the studio, arguing playfully about some old movie. She decides to finish her cleaning later, picking up the box and walking down the stairs to where Luke and Reggie are arguing about which Jurassic Park movie is the best, while Alex watches on in exasperated amusement.
“Guys?” She calls, going unheard over Reggie’s argument of the first being the classic best. “Guys!” She says louder, halting the clearly life-altering debate.
“I found this behind a wall panel in the loft.” She starts, holding out the box for them to see clearly. “Did you know this was up there?” She asks, watching their expressions turning serious as they move closer to observe the box with their old band logo.
“I had no clue,” Luke murmurs, looking at the box with curiosity and confusion. “Did you two?” he asks, Alex and Reggie shaking their heads, also looking confused.
“What’s in it?” Alex asks, reaching up to adjust his hat nervously.
“I don’t know, I haven’t looked. I just found it and brought it down.” Julie explains, moving to sit on the couch, the guy’s following her. Luke and Alex drop down on each side of her while Reggie sits down on the red bean bag she brought for him. They each just stare at the box like it has all the answers for a couple of minutes before Reggie seems to get sick of the silent waiting and reaches forward for the box, pulling it onto his lap.
They each hold their breaths, though she doesn’t know why the boys do as they don’t need to breathe, as Reggie flips open the lid and peers inside.
“Oh,” He breaths, his eyes tearing, and his face turns pained.
“What is it?” Luke questions, growing concerned while Reggie sniffles.
Reggie doesn’t say anything, except to sniffle again as he reaches into the box and pulls out an old, ragged navy-blue sweatshirt. Julie doesn’t understand the reaction it gets and turns to see if Luke and Alex understand either, but she sees by the way that Alex hangs his head and Luke rubs his suddenly red eyes that this is something that means a lot to them.
She gives them all a moment to themselves before asking as gently as she could, “What does it mean?”
Luke sniffles, his lips turned down into a sad frown as he answers. “It belonged to Bobby.” He reveals, his eyes turning sadly nostalgic. “It was his favourite sweatshirt, but we all liked to wear it when we were having a bad day.”
Bobby Wilson. She’d heard about Bobby, not in a lot of depth because when he was brought up, the room became tense with sorrow and the boys got sad. They had each told her a bit about him, and she could tell by their memories that they were as close with him as they were with each other. She knew their death must have hit him hard, one day your friends are there and suddenly, they’re all gone.
One thing she knew about him was that he had a cousin, a Trevor Wilson. Trevor was a famous musician who had become world-famous on songs he stole from Sunset Curve, from Luke, something that still infuriated her ghosts. They had no idea how he had gotten their songs in the first place, but the boys had figured he’d found an old song notebook of Luke’s.
She knew they had searched for Bobby, only to come up empty. After 1997, Bobby Wilson was nowhere to be found. They’d been devastated by the news, figuring he had moved on and hidden himself from the world.
“So, this box belonged… to Bobby?” She guessed, looking to Alex.
“It must be, I don’t know anyone who could have put the box here. No one except for us knew we used this studio.” Alex told her, playing with the rings on his fingers nervously. She reaches over, grasping his hand, and then again with Luke’s.
“Okay,” She murmured, turning back to Reggie who had brought the sweatshirt up to his face and was hugging it to his body with tears trickling down his cheeks. “Reggie, are you okay?” She asks, watching him nod his head.
He brings his face up, smiling a little. “I’m okay, I just- I just forgotten what he smelt like.” He sniffles, leaning over to hand the sweater to Luke who grasps it with gentle hands, running them over the fabric softly.
Reggie reaches back into the box, pulling out a pair of drumsticks this time. He gives a wet chuckle, handing them out to Alex who now has tears running down his face as well. She looks over and sees him running his thumb over an engraving in pink, the letters Alex Mercer on both sticks. She nudges him gently with her shoulder, silently asking if he’s okay.
He gives a shaky nod, smiling despite his sadness, and looks over to Luke who had pulled on the jumper, wrapping his arms around himself like a shield. She just offers them comfort through physical touch, squeezing their hands.
Reggie pulls out a few more items, a silver chain necklace with three dog tags and a ring on it. Reggie sits there for a moment, running his thumb over the ring, then hands the necklace over to Luke.
She looks over to see the dog tags each have something engraved on them, but she can’t properly see what they say. Luke moves to pull the necklace over his head, the ring and dog tags thumping down on his chest.
“Can I?” She whispers, releasing his hand and reaching for the chain around his neck. He nods twice, his eyes shining with tears and warmth. She reads each tag, which all have a Sunset Curve logo on the back and a name and date on the other side. Bobby Wilson, March 16th, 1978. Alex Mercer, July 7th, 1977. Reggie Peters, December 21st, 1977.
“The guys got me the dog tags for Christmas after I ran away, I got the chain from my parents the birthday before and they wanted me to have something to put on it.” He explains quietly, though she can tell the other boys are listening. “The ring belonged to Bobby. Reggie saw it in a thrift store one day and thought he would love it.”
She grasps the ring then, inspecting the thick silver band. It’s a simple ring, with a twisting pattern all around it. “It’s pretty Reggie, great choice.” She compliments, watching Reggie flush at her words. He smiles at them, reaching into the box again and coming out with a small black notebook.
He looks at it for a second, before a laugh erupts from his mouth. The laugh is so happy and amazed that it startles the three on the couch.
“What?” Luke asks, perplexed by the sudden mood swing. “What is it?”
“It’s my country songbook.” Reggie stammers, his laugh becoming hysterical before fading into sobs. Before she can blink, Alex and Luke are off the couch and wrapping their arms around Reggie, comforting him while his sobs trail off into soft gasps and whines.
“You alright Reg?” Alex asks, rubbing a hand down Reggie’s back as he calms down.
“Yeah, I’m just surprised he kept it.” Reggie chuckles quietly, leaning more into Luke’s shoulder. “He always humored me and my country songs.” He sniffles. “God, I miss him.”
“Me too.” Luke and Alex echoed, reaching for each other’s hands over Reggie’s lap.
“I mean, it’s only been a few months for us, but it’s been years for him.” Reggie croaks, looking downcast.
Luke and Alex don’t say anything, just hug him closer, their own expressions mirroring Reggie’s as they group cuddle.
After a few minutes of crying and being sad together, they sit up and look to the couch to realize Julie isn’t there anymore.
“Julie?” Reggie calls, looking around the studio, the others doing the same.
She pops up from a corner of the room, holding a black and blue blanket in her arms. She walks back over, dropping the blanket onto Reggie’s lap before sitting back down on the couch.
“Sorry, I just wanted to give you guys a little space to grieve together. I went and got the comfort blanket.” She told, looking sheepish.
Reggie gives her a grateful smile. “You don’t have to give us space Julie, you're part of our family too.”
She smiles warmly at them, reaching over and grabbing the box from Reggie’s lap. “How about you have a break from looking in here?” she suggests.
Reggie nods and they all move back to the couch, all four squeezing around each other as Julie reaches into the box and pulls out a stack of polaroids held together by a ribbon. She carefully unties the ribbon, lifting the first polaroid for them to see, and gasps.
“Oh my god,” she whispers, her voice shaking. “That’s my mom.”