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[rockymountaindie]

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[rockymountaindie]

I want it that way

[rockymountaindie]

But we are two worlds apart

[rockymountaindie]

Can't reach to your heart

[rockymountaindie]

When you say

[rockymountaindie]

I want it that way

[rockymountaindie]

TELL ME WHY

[rockymountaindie]

Ain't nothin' but a heartache

[rockymountaindie]

TELL ME WHY

[rockymountaindie]

Ain't nothing' but a mistake

[rockymountaindie]

Tell me why

[rockymountaindie]

I never wanna hear you say

[rockymountaindie]

I want it that way

[rockymountaindie]

Am I, your fire?

[rockymountaindie]

Your one, desire

[rockymountaindie]

Yes I know, it's tooooo late

[ ...somewhere, in the fantasy costco, a boy is texting furiously and has actually started quietly singing along. happy candlenights everyone. ]

[rockymountaindie]

But I want it that way

[rockymountaindie]

TELL ME WHY

[rockymountaindie]

Ain't nothin' but a heartache

[rockymountaindie]

TELL ME WHY

[rockymountaindie]

Ain't nothin' but a mistake

[rockymountaindie]

Tell me why

[rockymountaindie]

I never wanna hear you say

[rockymountaindie]

I want it that way

[alethiological]

[ See, at first? There was fury. But after the countless smaller anger-inducing things this month on top of how exhausting the whole month has been, the song itself doesn't rate. He stands, half-asleep, at the entrance of Fantasy Costco, bracer blaring Backstreet Boys on autotune, the sweet scraping melodies of Microsoft Mary overlaid with the harmony of Garfield losing his shit.

A few minutes in, another harmony of Alex singing joins the symphony. And that? That is the moment where the patience snaps. A repentance collection is in order.



So when Alex finishes his song, belting out the last note with all the power of Nick Carter's adolescent vocal chords, he turns in place to meet a placid smile and a bracer being held up. A single red dot blinking innocently. ]

Hello, Alex. I figured out how to turn voice-to-text off.

[ Or not-so-innocently. ]

1/2

[rockymountaindie]

[ Alex really did mean to follow the sound. He did. It carried well enough, and he's got those young, spry ears...or something. But about halfway through the second chorus the fugue state he's been in since he started realizing Candlenights was Christmas and oh fucking goddamn shit he hadn't gotten anything for anyone two days ago and there's no fucking magic and fdoasidsfsakfew

So he starts singing into a rolled up poster (when did he pick this up...?) while heaving bag after bag of findings, and right into that third chorus, he loses all control and forgets where he is.

You know what last Christmas was like? He was planning a trip to Paris, to finally put everything to rest, and he had dinner with his parents and his girlfriend, who he poorly serenaded with whatever dumb love song he could find. So...yeah. He gets lost in the moment, maybe a little willingly, leaning into it and belting out the bridge with passion. Trying to sing every part of the final chorus, jumping from lyric to lyric.

The bags have fallen to the ground by the time he's done. The dumb, euphoric energy sort of evaporates; Clear would've shoved him and covered his mouth and made a big show of hating it, so he knows it's just a little daydream. ]