Chapter Text
As if he needed any more reasons to loathe him. As if the list of things that irritated James about the newkid wasn’t long enough. First, he walzes into Cliff’s spot, all eager and wide eyed like a baby deer, following at their heels and so fucking desperate to please. Reminding James of a younger version of themselves, before…
Then he’s sharing a room with James on the road, his stupid band shirts always tossed on the floor, making the entire room smell like his stupid fucking cologne that James wished he hated.
He’s at breakfast with them in the morning, curls wild with bedhead that he never gives a shit about enough to fix, trying to make conversation like the rest of them aren’t usually suffering from hangovers. But he smiles all the same, smelling like spearmint toothpaste and coconut conditioner, eyes bright as he asks about the next show they’re off to, that day.
He’s onstage where Cliff is supposed to be, playing with a pick, Cliff didn’t use a pick. He doesn’t do anything like Cliff. James wasn’t sure if that made it more painful or not.
But he was there, under the same hot lights as the rest of them, jaw always slightly shifted in concentration, eyebrows drawn together. Face lighting up in a smile when he would catch James looking his way.
He’s in the showers backstage. At least at first he had the decency to be too shy to shower with the rest of them if it was a communal shower instead of stalls. But soon he doesn’t even do that, and James would force himself to count the tiles on the wall, refusing to even turn in his direction.
The worst part is when Jason starts appearing in his dreams too. James can’t count the amount of dreams he’s had that start with the guys on stage.
But even after Jason first joined, in his dreams it was still Cliff who was there on stage with them. To James’ right, headbanging and fingers flying.
It was the worst feeling when, even in his dreams, Cliff wasn’t there anymore. Replaced, erased. Grey eyes, not brown, stared back at him.
It all just made him hate the newkid.
But now?
Now Jason wasn’t sharing his hotel rooms anymore, wasn’t happily following James as much as he used to. Now he and Kirk were suddenly asking to bunk together.
Shamelessly sharing comics and magazines on the bus, reading over each other's shoulders. Sharing each other's space like the bus was so much smaller than it really was. Kirk would always get two cups of coffee at breakfast, reserving the seat next to him for Jason.
James wasn’t sure why it bothered him so much. Maybe because it felt like Kirk was shielding Jason, protecting him away from James and Lars. Their teasings, initiations, pranks, rough housing. Jason could run to Kirk, knowing the guys would back off if he was around.
Maybe Jason didn’t even know it, maybe Kirk was just the one person on the bus he knew enough to trust, the only one that treated him like he did.
That’s not to say that Kirk wouldn’t go along with some of their pranks sometimes. More in the beginning, but now only if it was light hearted or didn’t cause Jason any real harm. Like the time he wouldn’t let James and Lars into their room when they wanted to put thumbtacks under newkid’s blankets while he was in the shower.
But arguably worst of all?
Where did newkid get the fucking nerve to steal their guitarist from them? It made James feel like they were splintered a little more. Cliff was gone, and now it was like Kirk was too busy tending to an injured bird or something. Sitting with Jason on the bus or making sure to bring him into whatever conversation the rest of them were having. Too busy talking to him backstage about whatever the fuck those two talked about. Not coming by James and Lars’ room as much at night to chill and drink with them, not unless Jason was there too, for fucks sake.
James wasn’t as embarrassed to admit that he missed having Kirk around as much. Missed his stupid jokes no one laughed at but which made him cackle nonetheless. Missed his weird horror references and the bad black and white movies he forced them to watch when it was his turn to pick a movie for movie night. Now he watched them with Jason.
He even missed having that voice of reason when he and Lars would be gassing each other up, always drunk, to do something stupid at a bar or in their hotel.
He missed the way Kirk would crawl over his lap when they were drinking and there wasn’t enough room on the couch. Missed seeing him ready for bed with his ridiculously thick glasses on and his hair pulled back into a frizzy ponytail.
It made James’ face burn when he thought about it. Sometimes Lars would catch him staring at Kirk and Jason on the bus or backstage and give him a jab in the ribs, bust his balls, being the nosy little shit he was. James was pretty good at withstanding his prying at that point, usually just telling him to fuck off before shutting his trap until Lars gave up and moved on.
James never said anything about it, not even jokingly to newkid or Kirk. Even when some mornings Kirk and Jason would come down wearing each others shirts, or when he’d catch a whiff of Kirk’s stupid fucking “ special shampoo ” he always bought lingering on Jason. Something about it being especially for curly hair or something. All he knew is that Kirk never let James or Lars touch the stuff, which made it all that worse when he’d smell it on Jason.
He was like a parasite, everywhere he turned there he was, with his stupid giddy laugh and bright, pale eyes and hair that looked red in the sunlight. Stealing away his fucking guitarist from h- them. From them.
And he absolutely hated the fact that he wanted to be there with them. To be sitting with them reading comics, sharing those little knowing smiles, whispering, laughing. Wished he got to see what they got up to at night in their room, what they talked about, what they did.
But of course he was too proud to do anything about it.