WithoutSpeaking
Acrobat
- Joined
- Oct 18, 2009
- Messages
- 304
Title: Everything You Know Is Wrong
Author: withoutspeaking
Rating: PG-13 for a cuss word
Disclaimer: None of these fine Irishmen are mine, and this is complete and utter fiction.
A/N: My very first U2 fanfic. A bit AU with no Ali in the scene but trying to stay true to fact where possible. Set mainly during ZooTV/AB era during the breakup of Edge's marriage.
*****************
I bade Bono goodbye backstage after the show in Spain. He was flying back to Dublin with Larry that night to record some vocals for the new album and would be back just before the show in Nantes in a few days. I could have gone with him but I had decided to stay back as it was my first time in Madrid. As usual with most cities, I didn’t get to see enough of it as we’d just arrived yesterday afternoon and were leaving tomorrow night for France. ZooTV was a grueling schedule of concerts, promos, video shoots and interviews, not to mention the band was feeling so prolific these days that they'd decided to fly back and forth to Dublin to record their next album in the middle of it all.
Edge and Adam had decided to stay back as well – I was meeting Edge for lunch tomorrow. He was starting to lean on me a lot lately after finally separating from Aislinn. It was very hard on him right now, as he had no sense of closure. Ireland was so fucking backward it wasn’t even legal for them to divorce. Although they were separated, he was trapped and he was despondent – unable to move on with his life or even consider it. I couldn’t imagine. It was sometimes the reality check I had needed whenever I started to get fed-up with my own situation with Bono. We carried each other.
Living out of a hotel room wasn’t all glamour – not even close. I would spend long hours waiting for Bono to get back from interviews, photo shoots and goodness knows what else he got up to. He very seldom told me where he was going these days. But as always, I would wait.
“Have a safe trip, Bono, I’ll miss you,” I said, cuddling him to me as wardrobe people milled about, going on about sunglasses and hats and shoes.
“I’ll be fine, you just stay out of trouble, love,” he said mischievously, kissing my hand and then my lips tenderly.
Bono and I rarely had moments of privacy; such was the life of a rock star’s girlfriend. Acquaintance? Lady friend? Never fiancé … and certainly never wife.
Would he ever make an honest woman out of me? I doubted it. It had been 13 years, why start now?
I thought everything might change after he finally became somewhat content that they had “made it” after Joshua Tree catapulted them into stardom in America ... but then his best friend started to have trouble with his own marriage.
I snapped out of my thoughts as Bono hugged me tightly.
“I love you,” he whispered to me, letting go of my hand with a flourish while he bowed dramatically and winked at me as he turned to leave. Sometimes I wondered where the line between him and Mr. Macphisto ended these days.
I rolled my eyes at him but as always, I felt empty and alone the moment he left. When I went on tour with Bono I had no real female acquaintance to speak of outside of a couple of the crew who had their own lives and own husbands and children. There was no one to go shopping with or to drink sangrias with on a café patio while discussing relationships. Most of the band’s female staff worked behind the scenes back in Dublin. Larry’s girlfriend seldom came on tour with us although I thought she was lovely, Aislinn stayed home with Edge’s children (I never really liked her anyway) and Adam, well, Adam had no ties to anyone or anything. I envied him sometimes.
One of the crew hailed a cab for me and soon I was on my way back to the Ritz, back to Bono’s suite so I could pack his suitcase for him and make sure it got to France.
It had been a couple of months since I had packed up and moved into Adam’s guesthouse. Thank goodness I had the tour to take my mind off the mess my life was back home. It was finally over, and although there was no official end in sight, I tried to be content with the way things were at present.
I was still buzzing from the spectacular show tonight, there was just something about a European crowd that really responded to the splendour that was ZooTV. Although we hadn’t yet broken even on the tour, we had definitely made the right decision to put on an extravagant show. It was paying off in spades in ways that meant a lot more to the longevity of the band than the money did right now.
I could have gone back to Dublin with Bono tonight, but the further away I was from that place at the moment, the better. Working on the new album was a necessity though, and although I hated going back right now I found it to be inspiring to write new music when I felt like doing so, in a very twisted and odd way. At the moment, I just wanted to stay here and enjoy the Spanish sun, spend an afternoon sightseeing with Ciara tomorrow and talk her poor, beautiful ear off yet again, maybe go to a club with Adam in the evening and let what little I had left of my hair down.
I just wanted to get back to the hotel now, maybe have a whiskey (or several), watch some bad, Spanish, late night television or perhaps just stare out the window for a while, I don’t know. I didn’t want to deal with wardrobe right now so I decided to just head back wearing my stage clothes. They hated it when I did that but sometimes I simply just couldn't bear being controlled.
I had still had a key to Bono’s suite sitting on my bedside table from the night before when we had gathered in his room for a pre-concert drinking session, or as we referred to it formally, a ‘band meeting’. I’d forgotten to give it back to him today after I’d realized I’d left it in my trousers last night. Even though we now had most things at our beck and call, I still ended up being the one who trekked back and forth to the ice machine, just to maintain some semblance of reality.
I dearly hoped she was still awake.
Author: withoutspeaking
Rating: PG-13 for a cuss word
Disclaimer: None of these fine Irishmen are mine, and this is complete and utter fiction.
A/N: My very first U2 fanfic. A bit AU with no Ali in the scene but trying to stay true to fact where possible. Set mainly during ZooTV/AB era during the breakup of Edge's marriage.
*****************
I bade Bono goodbye backstage after the show in Spain. He was flying back to Dublin with Larry that night to record some vocals for the new album and would be back just before the show in Nantes in a few days. I could have gone with him but I had decided to stay back as it was my first time in Madrid. As usual with most cities, I didn’t get to see enough of it as we’d just arrived yesterday afternoon and were leaving tomorrow night for France. ZooTV was a grueling schedule of concerts, promos, video shoots and interviews, not to mention the band was feeling so prolific these days that they'd decided to fly back and forth to Dublin to record their next album in the middle of it all.
Edge and Adam had decided to stay back as well – I was meeting Edge for lunch tomorrow. He was starting to lean on me a lot lately after finally separating from Aislinn. It was very hard on him right now, as he had no sense of closure. Ireland was so fucking backward it wasn’t even legal for them to divorce. Although they were separated, he was trapped and he was despondent – unable to move on with his life or even consider it. I couldn’t imagine. It was sometimes the reality check I had needed whenever I started to get fed-up with my own situation with Bono. We carried each other.
Living out of a hotel room wasn’t all glamour – not even close. I would spend long hours waiting for Bono to get back from interviews, photo shoots and goodness knows what else he got up to. He very seldom told me where he was going these days. But as always, I would wait.
“Have a safe trip, Bono, I’ll miss you,” I said, cuddling him to me as wardrobe people milled about, going on about sunglasses and hats and shoes.
“I’ll be fine, you just stay out of trouble, love,” he said mischievously, kissing my hand and then my lips tenderly.
Bono and I rarely had moments of privacy; such was the life of a rock star’s girlfriend. Acquaintance? Lady friend? Never fiancé … and certainly never wife.
Would he ever make an honest woman out of me? I doubted it. It had been 13 years, why start now?
I thought everything might change after he finally became somewhat content that they had “made it” after Joshua Tree catapulted them into stardom in America ... but then his best friend started to have trouble with his own marriage.
I snapped out of my thoughts as Bono hugged me tightly.
“I love you,” he whispered to me, letting go of my hand with a flourish while he bowed dramatically and winked at me as he turned to leave. Sometimes I wondered where the line between him and Mr. Macphisto ended these days.
I rolled my eyes at him but as always, I felt empty and alone the moment he left. When I went on tour with Bono I had no real female acquaintance to speak of outside of a couple of the crew who had their own lives and own husbands and children. There was no one to go shopping with or to drink sangrias with on a café patio while discussing relationships. Most of the band’s female staff worked behind the scenes back in Dublin. Larry’s girlfriend seldom came on tour with us although I thought she was lovely, Aislinn stayed home with Edge’s children (I never really liked her anyway) and Adam, well, Adam had no ties to anyone or anything. I envied him sometimes.
One of the crew hailed a cab for me and soon I was on my way back to the Ritz, back to Bono’s suite so I could pack his suitcase for him and make sure it got to France.
* * *
It had been a couple of months since I had packed up and moved into Adam’s guesthouse. Thank goodness I had the tour to take my mind off the mess my life was back home. It was finally over, and although there was no official end in sight, I tried to be content with the way things were at present.
I was still buzzing from the spectacular show tonight, there was just something about a European crowd that really responded to the splendour that was ZooTV. Although we hadn’t yet broken even on the tour, we had definitely made the right decision to put on an extravagant show. It was paying off in spades in ways that meant a lot more to the longevity of the band than the money did right now.
I could have gone back to Dublin with Bono tonight, but the further away I was from that place at the moment, the better. Working on the new album was a necessity though, and although I hated going back right now I found it to be inspiring to write new music when I felt like doing so, in a very twisted and odd way. At the moment, I just wanted to stay here and enjoy the Spanish sun, spend an afternoon sightseeing with Ciara tomorrow and talk her poor, beautiful ear off yet again, maybe go to a club with Adam in the evening and let what little I had left of my hair down.
I just wanted to get back to the hotel now, maybe have a whiskey (or several), watch some bad, Spanish, late night television or perhaps just stare out the window for a while, I don’t know. I didn’t want to deal with wardrobe right now so I decided to just head back wearing my stage clothes. They hated it when I did that but sometimes I simply just couldn't bear being controlled.
I had still had a key to Bono’s suite sitting on my bedside table from the night before when we had gathered in his room for a pre-concert drinking session, or as we referred to it formally, a ‘band meeting’. I’d forgotten to give it back to him today after I’d realized I’d left it in my trousers last night. Even though we now had most things at our beck and call, I still ended up being the one who trekked back and forth to the ice machine, just to maintain some semblance of reality.
I dearly hoped she was still awake.
More please!
