LoveandLogic
Refugee
I honestly don't know why I'm writing this. It's too emotional for me...Alas, here it is. Thank you for reading and feedback is always appreciated. 
Disclaimer: I just want Bono to cook me some Irish Coddle. Is that too much to ask for? I own nothing.
Chapter Two
Bono opened his eyes, delicate sunlight emerging in through the half-opened curtains of his wife’s art studio. Solitaire, he blinked to find Raven at her drawing desk, back towards him and hand in a craze as she drew, humming lightly to herself, still dressed in her pajama’s. Bono grinned, admiring the way she got so entranced with her passion.
Standing to his feet, Bono walked up behind her, securing his arms around her neck, breathing in the natural in which orbited her.
“’Morning, love,” He whispered whilst kissing her cheek affectionately, peaking over her shoulder to see that she had put more coloring and shading into the lilies she abandoned the night before. “Those look beautiful.”
“Thank you,” She remarked, focused on the sketch. “Did you sleep well?”
“Yes. How about yourself?”
She shrugged. “Well enough.”
When Bono was clearly aware that he wouldn’t be gaining any type fondness from Raven in return, he pulled away rapidly and sighed quietly. Raven knew that she had upset him and though she hadn’t meant to, she proceeded on with her art, focusing on the petals, adding hues of purples and white to pour her aching thoughts into the creation.
“I’m sorry,” She told him. “I have to get this done. I have to finish this coloring, stencil it, shower and get to the studio in the next two hours.”
“We’re still doing something together tonight, right?”
“Yes, yes, of course. As soon as I’m done with this tattoo I will be over. I should be home around three or four if things go smoothly.”
Bono nodded although he knew she couldn’t see him. Collecting his thoughts, he stammered up the stairs, slightly groggy and heavy hearted. Undressing to shower, he leaned against the walls of the bath, relaxing underneath the warm water as it trailed over his face and down his chest.
“Love, are you alright?”
She responded in an irritated fashion. “I’m fine, Bono. I’m just really caught up in work right now. I don’t know what it is but people are just dying for tattoo’s! It’s not a popular thing!”
“Apparently it is, darling.” I chuckled, amused by the sound of her voice leaking with frustration and amazement. “Aren’t you glad that you’re getting some business and respect? You’ve worked hard for it, Ray.”
“Of course I am!” Her voice about stabbed my ears through the receiver of the telephone. “Sorry, sorry. I’m very stressed right now. How’s the tour?”
“Fantastic! We’re giving sold out shows, ya know?”
“Yes, I know, silly. You’ve told me a thousand times. That’s fantastic.”
“Baby, why don’t you come to New York for a little bit? You know, unwind, relax, have some fun.”
She laughed. “Now, Bono, you know I can’t do that. That’s like me asking you to come back to Dublin for a few weeks while you’re on tour.”
I paused. “It’s different for me.”
“How?”
“Well,” Shrugging, I explained. “I have thousands of people expecting me and you have only a few. You can postpone, I can’t and…”
Oh, no. I should have stopped right there. In the back of my mind I could almost see her facial expression: lips puckered, eyes darting and eyebrows crossed. Without even having to guess what she was going to say next, my mind begged to take back everything.
“So let me get this straight. Just because you’re in a band and touring around the world, prancing and singing for thousands, means that your job is more important than mine because I just doodle on two, maybe three people a day?”
Pinching the bridge of my nose, I said, “No baby, that’s not what I meant at all.”
“What the fuck did you mean then? Please, enlighten me.”
“I just meant that you could take some time off and people would understand.”
“And why wouldn’t people understand if you took time off?”
Damn, damn, damn! There was no way to resolve this. Why do I always speak without thinking it out first? The Edge can do it--why can’t I?!
“Baby, I’m sorry. You know I didn’t mean it like that. I don’t think my job is more important than yours. Really, sweetheart.” My voice softened and I wanted nothing more than to cradle her, caress her face and stare deep into her eyes to show her everything in which lingered within my own. Phones are pointless, really. Only if she could witness my face would she know then how sorry I truly was. “Please don’t be angry with me, love. I would never think that of you.”
Silence.
“I have to go, Bono. I’ll talk to you later.”
Raven carefully filed her drawings and stencils into her portfolio and ran up the stairs to shower. Bono was in the bathroom, a white towel about his slender hips, his bones provoking from underneath a pale layer of skin. God, she thought, no matter how angry she got at him at times, there was no denying the physical attraction she held towards the musician.
Their eyes met, blow to brown, only momentarily, until she turned away to face the opposite direction. For the past year or so their marriage seemed to be a house with weak pillars, slowly and agonizingly breaking down until one day eventually falling into a heap of stone, brick and dust. She wasn’t sure when that day would come but she was not looking forward to it. Yet no matter how much she strived to push that possibility to the back of her worries, the matter of the fact being that it would have to come down to it somewhere in the near future. And she was, in no shape or form, prepared.
Falling asleep next to him last night had been a splendid encounter. Still, a puncturing sharpness pained her every vein and burned every muscle. Feeling him, smelling him, was a sick idea of a joke. Whenever she though of him, it was as though she were tasting venom. When she looked at him, it was a sweet nectar. At this moment in time, their marriage was a love/hate contrast when normally it was smooth, easy and free flowing.
In the reflection of the mirror, she sized his body up, the vision of his alabaster skin surrounded by the muggy fog from the recent hot shower weakening her every sense at the sight of his lanky body. At the end of every tour, Bono continuously came back in great shape, embedded with chiseled muscles, a toned stomach and firm thighs. And, the longer she lingered on him, the harder she fought back the crave to touch every inch, every centimeter, of his body.
He stared back, trying to sort his wife out, wanting to trip inside her head to see what she was thinking, feeling…daring. Was that lust he just witnessed in those deep pools of honey glazed eyes? Or was it merely his imagination? Did he want her so badly to look at him the same way again that his mind convinced him just that?
Touch me, please, he begged to himself, just please touch me and tell me that you love me…
Rotating towards him, Raven eased towards her husband and, without a breath leaked, stroked her fingernails down his collar bone down to his waist. Oh, yes, he felt perfectly soft, she mused silently. His skin was still damp slightly with tiny, prism droplets of dew and she admired the way they felt on the palms of her hands. Bono sucked in a cluster of oxygen, biting his lip, his gaze so intense that it could have burned a hole right into her soul.
Chucking her under the chin, Bono lifted her head so that they were eye to eye and though she wanted to look away, she couldn’t find the strength to do so. He was breaking down, she knew he was. And she was feeling it, too.
“I have to get ready,” She mumbled. “Or I’m going to be late.”
Defeated, he nodded and left the restroom so she could get grab a shower. As soon as she stepped into the bath, the familiar smell of Bono eclipsed her like a magical potion, bewitching and bedazzling her. Hanging her head to let the water fall down her head, she leaned against the tile with one hand, thinking…remembering.
April 25, 1987
Glasses were clinking and shots being poured. I was surrounded by the loudness of a jukebox and a crowd of a loud, screaming, jumping and overly excited group. The four members of U2 danced around, toppled chairs over out of exhilaration. Really, I felt bad for the owners of the bar. Surely they’ve had rough, obnoxious nights before but nothing like this! In fact, I’ve never even seen Larry, Adam, Edge and Bono so enthused in the last four years of knowing them. Then again, it was the perfect night for celebration.
After the shots were passed around to the large group, the guys wanted me to give the first toast of the night. Having being put on the spot, I racked up my nerves and began to speak until Edge stopped me, his hazel eyes bright and dancing from beneath a black Stetson hat--the same hat he had been attached to for the last few weeks with a lucky Ace of Spades card tucked into a brown, leather studded wrap. Apparently, he had been complaining about his hair thinning so he bought the headwear to hide the insecurity. In my opinion, Edge was a very looking guy: dark, handsome and possessing a smile that lit up his whole face.
Nonetheless, no matter how close we were or how well we got along, he was a bastard for hiking up onto one of the wooden, round tables and dragging me along to join.
Oh, no! Damn him! I didn’t want to be high and above everyone else! Aislinn, Edge’s wife, looked up at me, her brown eyes revealing a mix of envy and hatred. Shit, I didn’t want her to feel that way. If anything I would have gladly given her the opportunity to announce the first toast, but the guys just insisted that I do it. Why? Your guess is as good as mine. Bono probably came up with some scheme to get me to speak before a large audience, knowing how much I loathed it. Leave it to Bono to push me out of my shell.
“Attention! Attention!” Edge spoke, wrapping a slender arm about my waist. Everyone continued to converse, as though there weren’t two people standing elevated above them on a wobbly, creaky table. “HEY! QUIET!” Edge bellowed, making my ears ring.
The bar hushed almost instantly and I caught Bono’s blue, diamond eyes from a few feet away, a shot of Jack Daniels in one hand. I knew he was anxious to start drinking--we all were.
“As you know, this is a special night and we have chosen Raven Hewson to give the first toast of the night. I know she’s secretly scorning me right now for pulling her up to give a toast but she’s just going to have to deal with it.” Edge winked and smiled. I shoved him playfully.
All eyes on me and the bar completely deafening, I cleared my throat, my fingers so sweaty that I feared of dropping my shot glass, dreaded at the possibility of it shattering to hundreds of pieces on the wooden floorboards.
Still, the crowd was eager for my words and even more eager to start drinking. I knew the guys were tired from the concert they gave at the Cow Palace only hours ago and drinking was the only thing they could think of.
Shit, now I remember why I hate public speaking.
Clearing my throat, I had wished that they would have given more time to prepare. On the other hand, the news was just given to us before the start of the show.
“Thank you everyone for coming,” I stuttered, raising my voice despite the knot that tightened in the back of my throat. Locking eyes with Bono, he grinned a loving and encouraging smile. That alone gave me all the confidence that I needed. “As you know, this is the first leg and fifteenth show of the Joshua Tree tour!” I paused for ovation and shout outs. When the crowd settled down once more, I proceeded. “And tonight is even more special because it has just been announced, in the sunny state of California, that the Joshua Tree has hit Number One on the U.S. Charts!”
Wild applause erupted and shook the bar, tables were being thrown over and corks of champagne bottles shot across the building like rockets. Edge and I laughed, waiting once more for the crowd to subside.
“Larry, Adam, Bono, come up here!” I demanded, swooshing my arm towards the table.
Edge and I moved from the middle to make room for the other three members. Adam came up first, his blond hair in a curly afro, dressed in a white tank and blue jeans, Larry following behind, a black shirt fitting his perfect, modeled body flawlessly. Bono was the last to join us, his long, dark hair tied back loosely by a lazy band, his eyes fulfilled and emotional. We encircled the radius of the table, Edge and Adam on either side of me while Bono and Larry stood on the other side. All four members leaked achievement and full of pride, their postures more erect and lips gleaming smiles.
Focusing my interest on the men who made U2, I continued on with my speech. “Don’t give me that look, Larry! If I have to be up here so do you!” The crowd laughed. “Ok, on a serious note, what else can I really say? For four years I’ve watched you grow from boys to men right before my eyes. I’ve seen you transform from stones on stage to rocking men of confidence, giving each show your most and your crowd the respect they deserve and tonight, they gave it all back. I can’t think of another group who deserves a number one spot more than the group standing before me. I love all of you and I’m so proud.” I raised my glass, U2 mocking suit as did the crowd. “So here’s to the Joshua Tree, the tour, the four men and the many, many years of music and love to come!”
We collided drinks and downed the hot whiskey. When empty, we slammed the cups onto the table out of tradition, shards of glass flying up near our feet . We formed in for a group hug and kisses were exchanged, as were “thank you’s,” and tears.
Bono and I remained on the table, embracing and kissing as if no one were in the room. Not as if anyone was paying attention--they were all focused on the countless amounts of whiskey jars being passed around. After all, everyone drank for free. U2’s manager, Paul McGuiness, had rented out the bar for the night for the band, their friends, family and a few lucky fans.
Edge came back a moment later, a shot glass in each hand. Bono and I retrieved them and, before drinking, he said, “Here’s to you and me and this wonderful journey.”
“I couldn’t have said it better myself,” I smiled.
For the next hour we danced, sang, partied and drank. Everyone, and I mean everyone, was having a good time, singing along to U2 songs Edge played on his acoustic guitar. After a while, I had lost count of how many drinks Bono and I collected. He could be quite a drinker but I never failed to keep up.
Intoxicated and dizzy, Bono and I stumbled out of the smoke filled bar, cheering and carrying each other into the warm night of the California streets, the brilliant lights like fireflies of all shapes, sizes and colors. Practically stammering, we somehow managed to make it to the side of the building and into a dark alleyway, clawing at any article of clothing at hands reach. Lip locked and hungry, our mouths declared war for dominance, his tongue pushing past my teeth so that I tasted all the flavors that made up the lead singer of the biggest band in the world.
His back hit the brick wall harshly while I snuck my hand up and underneath his black vest while the other occupied the side of his neck, his stubble sharp amongst my skin. He moaned into my mouth, stroking my hair and pushing me closer to his body still.
With my lips now at his ear, I questioned seductively. “So how does it feel to be a sex symbol for all the women in the world now, Paul Hewson?”
I heard him chuckle. “Sex symbol? I’m a sex symbol now?”
“You don’t hear them? You don’t hear all those girls screaming their love for you? Don’t you see the desperation and longing in their bedroom eyes? Don’t you see them grasping out for you?”
“The only girl I ever see is you.”
“But don’t you see it?” I repeated.
He shook his head. “No, I guess not.”
“They’re stupid, anyways. It took them this long to see that you’re a sex symbol? Fuck, I could have told you that a long time ago.”
Bono snickered amusingly, “You’re something else, Raven. Or is it the alcohol?”
“Drunk or sober, either way I can’t get enough of you.”
Even through the thickness of the dark I could see him smiling. Kissing me fervently, Bono roamed his hands down to the small of my back and I pulled the leftovers of his hair out from the ponytail so that it hung like threads of dark brown velvet about his shoulders.
Breaching the kiss just enough to speak, his voice was low and seductive. “How about we go back to the hotel and have our own celebration?”
Raven shook the memory out of her mind and finished showering, toweling off in a rush upon noticing the time. She had only a half hour to get down to the shop and set everything up. This is how it’s been lately--her life just one long routine of scheduled hours and deadlines. Meanwhile there was a concerned and broken husband in the room attached to this one, sitting on the bed, staring out into space as if gone astray in translation. She hated doing this to him, leaving him on his own after a long tour. It was impeccable--her life continued on in spite of his being away. What had he expected her to do? Sit around and wait? She couldn’t--wouldn’t--do that. When he was gone, she was muddled. Art, Dan and the shop were the only friends keeping her mind off the long, lonely nights and the even longer hours of the day.
Did he ever pine for her like that? Did he ever stumble into the endless amounts of fruitless hotel rooms, longing to hold her and to wake up to behold nothing but the vivacity of her face? Like her, did he dream of them, of their future and the potentials--both good and bad--that appointed inside that future? So many questions hammered her mind, banging so loudly until it drew out all other thoughts. Questions that would expire owed to a fear of bearing the weight of the answers.
Raven forced her eyes shut to hinder the heartrending image of Bono’s frowning appearance. Perhaps she should abandon the appointment? What kind of wife was she to leave her husband alone in a large house?
A terrible one…
Dan, however, would skin her alive if she cancelled. No, she would do the tattoo and run straight home. After tonight was over, they would have a few days to catch up with no interruptions.
Why is it that the thought of being alone with him disturbed her? In no way was that a norm…
Raven kneeled before Bono, grasping his hands and pulling them away from his face so that she could devour in the blue hue of his dazzling eyes. Smiling up at him, she tucked a piece of stray hair behind his ear and away from his face. In response, the simple gesture made him grin.
“I will see you tonight,” She promised. “Just give me three or four hours and I’ll be home.”
“Ok,” He said, kissing the back of her hands. “I’ll see you tonight.”
She kissed his forehead gently before heading towards the door. Bono stood up and reached for her hand, dragging her in for a deep, enduring kiss. Whether out of habit or comfort, she kissed back, melting into those Irish lips she had once fallen so deeply in love with.
She pulled back moments afterward, licking her lips to lap up the remains of his flavor on her teeth and tongue. She had missed it so, yet carried a profound abhorrence for it at the same time.
“I love you, Raven.”
“I love you, too, Captain. See you in a few hours.”
Once she was out of sight, Bono set to work almost immediately, unpacking his clothes and knick-knacks before settling into the kitchen to start a decent dinner of homemade Dublin Coddle--Raven’s favorite Irish meal. Normally they would cook this together, one taking care of the bacon and sausage while the other peeled, cut and boiled the potatoes. Tonight, however, it would be Bono simmering the meat and baking soda bread. While the meat cooked and the bread was set in the oven, Bono then set the table with their finest china and tall candles.
Nearing four hours, Bono brewed a fresh pot of Irish coffee for after dinner and went to the wine cellar to retrieve his best red wine. This is what they needed: a nice dinner, just them two, in a quiet and tranquil surrounding. Turning the lights off, the flames to the candles danced and dimmed the room, adding a romantic feel to the atmosphere. He was quite proud of himself for not burning down the house in the process of cooking. He could hardly wait to see the look on her face once she came home to her husband and favorite meal.
Five o’clock rolled around, ticking mockingly.
“It’s just a half hour later,” Bono told himself. “Don’t get all riled up just yet.”
That half hour turned into another half hour, and that one into another and another until nine o’clock eventually chimed from the grandfather clock in the living room. Unable to eat, heartbroken and betrayed, Bono wrapped the cold food into containers, making a plate for Raven and setting it in the microwave for whenever she got home.
Exhausted--emotionally, physically and mentally drained--Bono left a note for Raven on the kitchen table, blew out the candles and turned in for the night. For whatever Raven didn’t come home when she said she would, Bono was almost certain that it wasn’t purposely. But that didn’t mean it hurt any less.
Raven, inaudibly, unlocked the door around eleven p.m., her eyes heavy and hands and back throbbing. Flabbergasted to see the house dark and naked, she flashed on the light to the kitchen, her heart dropping into the depths of her stomach once her eyes established on the burnt wicks that belonged to the candles on the table. She could smell the Irish Coffee and practically taste the Dublin Coddle and soda bread.
She picked up the small piece of paper on the table, Bono’s handwriting elegant and clean:
Raven--I made your favorite dish, there’s a plate waiting for you in the microwave. I turned in early. I hope work went well. Sleep tight. I love you.
Holding back the tears, Raven threw her portfolio to the ground and sobbed. How could she be so selfish? Bono rarely ever cooked but when he did she knew that it was to take one less weight off of her shoulders. Not capable of having an appetite, Raven climbed up the stairs, head hung low, feeling beyond ashamed.
Opening the door to the bedroom, Bono’s sleeping silhouette shadowed from the small lamp on the table, his chest rising and falling with steady breaths. A half-empty glass of wine sat on the bookshelf and Raven gulped down what was left over.
She changed into her nightgown and sat down on the bed next to Bono, shaking him gently until he tossed, fluttering his eyes open. For the longest while they simply stared, trying to coax the uneasiness in which disturbed them.
“I’m so sorry, baby,” She whispered, fighting her tears. “One of the guys quit on us tonight and I had to stay. I should have called. I feel terrible.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Bono said almost venomously. “It wasn’t important. Just some Dublin Coddle.”
“No, it is important. Bono I-”
“Just go to sleep, will ya?” He snapped, causing Raven to flinch. “I’m tired and want to sleep.”
She swallowed painfully. “That’s fine. We’ll talk about it in the morning.”
“There’s nothing to talk about.”
“Bono, baby-”
“I said,” He hissed. “There’s nothing to talk about. Just drop it. Please.”
She stared at him and nodded, watching in despondency as he turned his back to her. Not able to sleep in the room, much less the same bed, as him, Raven got up and went down to the studio, curling up on the sofa, her sobs carrying away through the cracks in the floor, penetrating and haunting Bono’s unconsciousness.
Feedback anyone?
Disclaimer: I just want Bono to cook me some Irish Coddle. Is that too much to ask for? I own nothing.
Chapter Two
Bono opened his eyes, delicate sunlight emerging in through the half-opened curtains of his wife’s art studio. Solitaire, he blinked to find Raven at her drawing desk, back towards him and hand in a craze as she drew, humming lightly to herself, still dressed in her pajama’s. Bono grinned, admiring the way she got so entranced with her passion.
Standing to his feet, Bono walked up behind her, securing his arms around her neck, breathing in the natural in which orbited her.
“’Morning, love,” He whispered whilst kissing her cheek affectionately, peaking over her shoulder to see that she had put more coloring and shading into the lilies she abandoned the night before. “Those look beautiful.”
“Thank you,” She remarked, focused on the sketch. “Did you sleep well?”
“Yes. How about yourself?”
She shrugged. “Well enough.”
When Bono was clearly aware that he wouldn’t be gaining any type fondness from Raven in return, he pulled away rapidly and sighed quietly. Raven knew that she had upset him and though she hadn’t meant to, she proceeded on with her art, focusing on the petals, adding hues of purples and white to pour her aching thoughts into the creation.
“I’m sorry,” She told him. “I have to get this done. I have to finish this coloring, stencil it, shower and get to the studio in the next two hours.”
“We’re still doing something together tonight, right?”
“Yes, yes, of course. As soon as I’m done with this tattoo I will be over. I should be home around three or four if things go smoothly.”
Bono nodded although he knew she couldn’t see him. Collecting his thoughts, he stammered up the stairs, slightly groggy and heavy hearted. Undressing to shower, he leaned against the walls of the bath, relaxing underneath the warm water as it trailed over his face and down his chest.
“Love, are you alright?”
She responded in an irritated fashion. “I’m fine, Bono. I’m just really caught up in work right now. I don’t know what it is but people are just dying for tattoo’s! It’s not a popular thing!”
“Apparently it is, darling.” I chuckled, amused by the sound of her voice leaking with frustration and amazement. “Aren’t you glad that you’re getting some business and respect? You’ve worked hard for it, Ray.”
“Of course I am!” Her voice about stabbed my ears through the receiver of the telephone. “Sorry, sorry. I’m very stressed right now. How’s the tour?”
“Fantastic! We’re giving sold out shows, ya know?”
“Yes, I know, silly. You’ve told me a thousand times. That’s fantastic.”
“Baby, why don’t you come to New York for a little bit? You know, unwind, relax, have some fun.”
She laughed. “Now, Bono, you know I can’t do that. That’s like me asking you to come back to Dublin for a few weeks while you’re on tour.”
I paused. “It’s different for me.”
“How?”
“Well,” Shrugging, I explained. “I have thousands of people expecting me and you have only a few. You can postpone, I can’t and…”
Oh, no. I should have stopped right there. In the back of my mind I could almost see her facial expression: lips puckered, eyes darting and eyebrows crossed. Without even having to guess what she was going to say next, my mind begged to take back everything.
“So let me get this straight. Just because you’re in a band and touring around the world, prancing and singing for thousands, means that your job is more important than mine because I just doodle on two, maybe three people a day?”
Pinching the bridge of my nose, I said, “No baby, that’s not what I meant at all.”
“What the fuck did you mean then? Please, enlighten me.”
“I just meant that you could take some time off and people would understand.”
“And why wouldn’t people understand if you took time off?”
Damn, damn, damn! There was no way to resolve this. Why do I always speak without thinking it out first? The Edge can do it--why can’t I?!
“Baby, I’m sorry. You know I didn’t mean it like that. I don’t think my job is more important than yours. Really, sweetheart.” My voice softened and I wanted nothing more than to cradle her, caress her face and stare deep into her eyes to show her everything in which lingered within my own. Phones are pointless, really. Only if she could witness my face would she know then how sorry I truly was. “Please don’t be angry with me, love. I would never think that of you.”
Silence.
“I have to go, Bono. I’ll talk to you later.”
Raven carefully filed her drawings and stencils into her portfolio and ran up the stairs to shower. Bono was in the bathroom, a white towel about his slender hips, his bones provoking from underneath a pale layer of skin. God, she thought, no matter how angry she got at him at times, there was no denying the physical attraction she held towards the musician.
Their eyes met, blow to brown, only momentarily, until she turned away to face the opposite direction. For the past year or so their marriage seemed to be a house with weak pillars, slowly and agonizingly breaking down until one day eventually falling into a heap of stone, brick and dust. She wasn’t sure when that day would come but she was not looking forward to it. Yet no matter how much she strived to push that possibility to the back of her worries, the matter of the fact being that it would have to come down to it somewhere in the near future. And she was, in no shape or form, prepared.
Falling asleep next to him last night had been a splendid encounter. Still, a puncturing sharpness pained her every vein and burned every muscle. Feeling him, smelling him, was a sick idea of a joke. Whenever she though of him, it was as though she were tasting venom. When she looked at him, it was a sweet nectar. At this moment in time, their marriage was a love/hate contrast when normally it was smooth, easy and free flowing.
In the reflection of the mirror, she sized his body up, the vision of his alabaster skin surrounded by the muggy fog from the recent hot shower weakening her every sense at the sight of his lanky body. At the end of every tour, Bono continuously came back in great shape, embedded with chiseled muscles, a toned stomach and firm thighs. And, the longer she lingered on him, the harder she fought back the crave to touch every inch, every centimeter, of his body.
He stared back, trying to sort his wife out, wanting to trip inside her head to see what she was thinking, feeling…daring. Was that lust he just witnessed in those deep pools of honey glazed eyes? Or was it merely his imagination? Did he want her so badly to look at him the same way again that his mind convinced him just that?
Touch me, please, he begged to himself, just please touch me and tell me that you love me…
Rotating towards him, Raven eased towards her husband and, without a breath leaked, stroked her fingernails down his collar bone down to his waist. Oh, yes, he felt perfectly soft, she mused silently. His skin was still damp slightly with tiny, prism droplets of dew and she admired the way they felt on the palms of her hands. Bono sucked in a cluster of oxygen, biting his lip, his gaze so intense that it could have burned a hole right into her soul.
Chucking her under the chin, Bono lifted her head so that they were eye to eye and though she wanted to look away, she couldn’t find the strength to do so. He was breaking down, she knew he was. And she was feeling it, too.
“I have to get ready,” She mumbled. “Or I’m going to be late.”
Defeated, he nodded and left the restroom so she could get grab a shower. As soon as she stepped into the bath, the familiar smell of Bono eclipsed her like a magical potion, bewitching and bedazzling her. Hanging her head to let the water fall down her head, she leaned against the tile with one hand, thinking…remembering.
April 25, 1987
Glasses were clinking and shots being poured. I was surrounded by the loudness of a jukebox and a crowd of a loud, screaming, jumping and overly excited group. The four members of U2 danced around, toppled chairs over out of exhilaration. Really, I felt bad for the owners of the bar. Surely they’ve had rough, obnoxious nights before but nothing like this! In fact, I’ve never even seen Larry, Adam, Edge and Bono so enthused in the last four years of knowing them. Then again, it was the perfect night for celebration.
After the shots were passed around to the large group, the guys wanted me to give the first toast of the night. Having being put on the spot, I racked up my nerves and began to speak until Edge stopped me, his hazel eyes bright and dancing from beneath a black Stetson hat--the same hat he had been attached to for the last few weeks with a lucky Ace of Spades card tucked into a brown, leather studded wrap. Apparently, he had been complaining about his hair thinning so he bought the headwear to hide the insecurity. In my opinion, Edge was a very looking guy: dark, handsome and possessing a smile that lit up his whole face.
Nonetheless, no matter how close we were or how well we got along, he was a bastard for hiking up onto one of the wooden, round tables and dragging me along to join.
Oh, no! Damn him! I didn’t want to be high and above everyone else! Aislinn, Edge’s wife, looked up at me, her brown eyes revealing a mix of envy and hatred. Shit, I didn’t want her to feel that way. If anything I would have gladly given her the opportunity to announce the first toast, but the guys just insisted that I do it. Why? Your guess is as good as mine. Bono probably came up with some scheme to get me to speak before a large audience, knowing how much I loathed it. Leave it to Bono to push me out of my shell.
“Attention! Attention!” Edge spoke, wrapping a slender arm about my waist. Everyone continued to converse, as though there weren’t two people standing elevated above them on a wobbly, creaky table. “HEY! QUIET!” Edge bellowed, making my ears ring.
The bar hushed almost instantly and I caught Bono’s blue, diamond eyes from a few feet away, a shot of Jack Daniels in one hand. I knew he was anxious to start drinking--we all were.
“As you know, this is a special night and we have chosen Raven Hewson to give the first toast of the night. I know she’s secretly scorning me right now for pulling her up to give a toast but she’s just going to have to deal with it.” Edge winked and smiled. I shoved him playfully.
All eyes on me and the bar completely deafening, I cleared my throat, my fingers so sweaty that I feared of dropping my shot glass, dreaded at the possibility of it shattering to hundreds of pieces on the wooden floorboards.
Still, the crowd was eager for my words and even more eager to start drinking. I knew the guys were tired from the concert they gave at the Cow Palace only hours ago and drinking was the only thing they could think of.
Shit, now I remember why I hate public speaking.
Clearing my throat, I had wished that they would have given more time to prepare. On the other hand, the news was just given to us before the start of the show.
“Thank you everyone for coming,” I stuttered, raising my voice despite the knot that tightened in the back of my throat. Locking eyes with Bono, he grinned a loving and encouraging smile. That alone gave me all the confidence that I needed. “As you know, this is the first leg and fifteenth show of the Joshua Tree tour!” I paused for ovation and shout outs. When the crowd settled down once more, I proceeded. “And tonight is even more special because it has just been announced, in the sunny state of California, that the Joshua Tree has hit Number One on the U.S. Charts!”
Wild applause erupted and shook the bar, tables were being thrown over and corks of champagne bottles shot across the building like rockets. Edge and I laughed, waiting once more for the crowd to subside.
“Larry, Adam, Bono, come up here!” I demanded, swooshing my arm towards the table.
Edge and I moved from the middle to make room for the other three members. Adam came up first, his blond hair in a curly afro, dressed in a white tank and blue jeans, Larry following behind, a black shirt fitting his perfect, modeled body flawlessly. Bono was the last to join us, his long, dark hair tied back loosely by a lazy band, his eyes fulfilled and emotional. We encircled the radius of the table, Edge and Adam on either side of me while Bono and Larry stood on the other side. All four members leaked achievement and full of pride, their postures more erect and lips gleaming smiles.
Focusing my interest on the men who made U2, I continued on with my speech. “Don’t give me that look, Larry! If I have to be up here so do you!” The crowd laughed. “Ok, on a serious note, what else can I really say? For four years I’ve watched you grow from boys to men right before my eyes. I’ve seen you transform from stones on stage to rocking men of confidence, giving each show your most and your crowd the respect they deserve and tonight, they gave it all back. I can’t think of another group who deserves a number one spot more than the group standing before me. I love all of you and I’m so proud.” I raised my glass, U2 mocking suit as did the crowd. “So here’s to the Joshua Tree, the tour, the four men and the many, many years of music and love to come!”
We collided drinks and downed the hot whiskey. When empty, we slammed the cups onto the table out of tradition, shards of glass flying up near our feet . We formed in for a group hug and kisses were exchanged, as were “thank you’s,” and tears.
Bono and I remained on the table, embracing and kissing as if no one were in the room. Not as if anyone was paying attention--they were all focused on the countless amounts of whiskey jars being passed around. After all, everyone drank for free. U2’s manager, Paul McGuiness, had rented out the bar for the night for the band, their friends, family and a few lucky fans.
Edge came back a moment later, a shot glass in each hand. Bono and I retrieved them and, before drinking, he said, “Here’s to you and me and this wonderful journey.”
“I couldn’t have said it better myself,” I smiled.
For the next hour we danced, sang, partied and drank. Everyone, and I mean everyone, was having a good time, singing along to U2 songs Edge played on his acoustic guitar. After a while, I had lost count of how many drinks Bono and I collected. He could be quite a drinker but I never failed to keep up.
Intoxicated and dizzy, Bono and I stumbled out of the smoke filled bar, cheering and carrying each other into the warm night of the California streets, the brilliant lights like fireflies of all shapes, sizes and colors. Practically stammering, we somehow managed to make it to the side of the building and into a dark alleyway, clawing at any article of clothing at hands reach. Lip locked and hungry, our mouths declared war for dominance, his tongue pushing past my teeth so that I tasted all the flavors that made up the lead singer of the biggest band in the world.
His back hit the brick wall harshly while I snuck my hand up and underneath his black vest while the other occupied the side of his neck, his stubble sharp amongst my skin. He moaned into my mouth, stroking my hair and pushing me closer to his body still.
With my lips now at his ear, I questioned seductively. “So how does it feel to be a sex symbol for all the women in the world now, Paul Hewson?”
I heard him chuckle. “Sex symbol? I’m a sex symbol now?”
“You don’t hear them? You don’t hear all those girls screaming their love for you? Don’t you see the desperation and longing in their bedroom eyes? Don’t you see them grasping out for you?”
“The only girl I ever see is you.”
“But don’t you see it?” I repeated.
He shook his head. “No, I guess not.”
“They’re stupid, anyways. It took them this long to see that you’re a sex symbol? Fuck, I could have told you that a long time ago.”
Bono snickered amusingly, “You’re something else, Raven. Or is it the alcohol?”
“Drunk or sober, either way I can’t get enough of you.”
Even through the thickness of the dark I could see him smiling. Kissing me fervently, Bono roamed his hands down to the small of my back and I pulled the leftovers of his hair out from the ponytail so that it hung like threads of dark brown velvet about his shoulders.
Breaching the kiss just enough to speak, his voice was low and seductive. “How about we go back to the hotel and have our own celebration?”
Raven shook the memory out of her mind and finished showering, toweling off in a rush upon noticing the time. She had only a half hour to get down to the shop and set everything up. This is how it’s been lately--her life just one long routine of scheduled hours and deadlines. Meanwhile there was a concerned and broken husband in the room attached to this one, sitting on the bed, staring out into space as if gone astray in translation. She hated doing this to him, leaving him on his own after a long tour. It was impeccable--her life continued on in spite of his being away. What had he expected her to do? Sit around and wait? She couldn’t--wouldn’t--do that. When he was gone, she was muddled. Art, Dan and the shop were the only friends keeping her mind off the long, lonely nights and the even longer hours of the day.
Did he ever pine for her like that? Did he ever stumble into the endless amounts of fruitless hotel rooms, longing to hold her and to wake up to behold nothing but the vivacity of her face? Like her, did he dream of them, of their future and the potentials--both good and bad--that appointed inside that future? So many questions hammered her mind, banging so loudly until it drew out all other thoughts. Questions that would expire owed to a fear of bearing the weight of the answers.
Raven forced her eyes shut to hinder the heartrending image of Bono’s frowning appearance. Perhaps she should abandon the appointment? What kind of wife was she to leave her husband alone in a large house?
A terrible one…
Dan, however, would skin her alive if she cancelled. No, she would do the tattoo and run straight home. After tonight was over, they would have a few days to catch up with no interruptions.
Why is it that the thought of being alone with him disturbed her? In no way was that a norm…
Raven kneeled before Bono, grasping his hands and pulling them away from his face so that she could devour in the blue hue of his dazzling eyes. Smiling up at him, she tucked a piece of stray hair behind his ear and away from his face. In response, the simple gesture made him grin.
“I will see you tonight,” She promised. “Just give me three or four hours and I’ll be home.”
“Ok,” He said, kissing the back of her hands. “I’ll see you tonight.”
She kissed his forehead gently before heading towards the door. Bono stood up and reached for her hand, dragging her in for a deep, enduring kiss. Whether out of habit or comfort, she kissed back, melting into those Irish lips she had once fallen so deeply in love with.
She pulled back moments afterward, licking her lips to lap up the remains of his flavor on her teeth and tongue. She had missed it so, yet carried a profound abhorrence for it at the same time.
“I love you, Raven.”
“I love you, too, Captain. See you in a few hours.”
Once she was out of sight, Bono set to work almost immediately, unpacking his clothes and knick-knacks before settling into the kitchen to start a decent dinner of homemade Dublin Coddle--Raven’s favorite Irish meal. Normally they would cook this together, one taking care of the bacon and sausage while the other peeled, cut and boiled the potatoes. Tonight, however, it would be Bono simmering the meat and baking soda bread. While the meat cooked and the bread was set in the oven, Bono then set the table with their finest china and tall candles.
Nearing four hours, Bono brewed a fresh pot of Irish coffee for after dinner and went to the wine cellar to retrieve his best red wine. This is what they needed: a nice dinner, just them two, in a quiet and tranquil surrounding. Turning the lights off, the flames to the candles danced and dimmed the room, adding a romantic feel to the atmosphere. He was quite proud of himself for not burning down the house in the process of cooking. He could hardly wait to see the look on her face once she came home to her husband and favorite meal.
Five o’clock rolled around, ticking mockingly.
“It’s just a half hour later,” Bono told himself. “Don’t get all riled up just yet.”
That half hour turned into another half hour, and that one into another and another until nine o’clock eventually chimed from the grandfather clock in the living room. Unable to eat, heartbroken and betrayed, Bono wrapped the cold food into containers, making a plate for Raven and setting it in the microwave for whenever she got home.
Exhausted--emotionally, physically and mentally drained--Bono left a note for Raven on the kitchen table, blew out the candles and turned in for the night. For whatever Raven didn’t come home when she said she would, Bono was almost certain that it wasn’t purposely. But that didn’t mean it hurt any less.
Raven, inaudibly, unlocked the door around eleven p.m., her eyes heavy and hands and back throbbing. Flabbergasted to see the house dark and naked, she flashed on the light to the kitchen, her heart dropping into the depths of her stomach once her eyes established on the burnt wicks that belonged to the candles on the table. She could smell the Irish Coffee and practically taste the Dublin Coddle and soda bread.
She picked up the small piece of paper on the table, Bono’s handwriting elegant and clean:
Raven--I made your favorite dish, there’s a plate waiting for you in the microwave. I turned in early. I hope work went well. Sleep tight. I love you.
Holding back the tears, Raven threw her portfolio to the ground and sobbed. How could she be so selfish? Bono rarely ever cooked but when he did she knew that it was to take one less weight off of her shoulders. Not capable of having an appetite, Raven climbed up the stairs, head hung low, feeling beyond ashamed.
Opening the door to the bedroom, Bono’s sleeping silhouette shadowed from the small lamp on the table, his chest rising and falling with steady breaths. A half-empty glass of wine sat on the bookshelf and Raven gulped down what was left over.
She changed into her nightgown and sat down on the bed next to Bono, shaking him gently until he tossed, fluttering his eyes open. For the longest while they simply stared, trying to coax the uneasiness in which disturbed them.
“I’m so sorry, baby,” She whispered, fighting her tears. “One of the guys quit on us tonight and I had to stay. I should have called. I feel terrible.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Bono said almost venomously. “It wasn’t important. Just some Dublin Coddle.”
“No, it is important. Bono I-”
“Just go to sleep, will ya?” He snapped, causing Raven to flinch. “I’m tired and want to sleep.”
She swallowed painfully. “That’s fine. We’ll talk about it in the morning.”
“There’s nothing to talk about.”
“Bono, baby-”
“I said,” He hissed. “There’s nothing to talk about. Just drop it. Please.”
She stared at him and nodded, watching in despondency as he turned his back to her. Not able to sleep in the room, much less the same bed, as him, Raven got up and went down to the studio, curling up on the sofa, her sobs carrying away through the cracks in the floor, penetrating and haunting Bono’s unconsciousness.
Feedback anyone?
well... you know how i feel about your fics! 
This is so sad. I want them to wuv eachother...like in the flashback.
She hurt his feelings!!! *crosses arms* I'm glad he got mad.
This is great...so glad to see a new chapter posted 
thank you so much!
