Chapter Text
Cape Cod.
The middle of winter.
Ice licks the tires of their rental vehicle as Vessel guides the navy blue suburban into their destination’s driveway. Salt, freshly poured from the property owners, crunches beneath the tread as the vehicle climbs the slight incline before leveling out over the newly plowed drive. Vessel smiles as he shifts the car into park, engaging the emergency brake, before he shifts in the driver’s seat.
“Time to wake up, loves,” he calls softly, reaching across the center console. His fingers brush back soft, dark blond locks as II’s nose crinkles from the abrupt contact. Pale blue eyes slowly creak open, blinking sleep out of themselves, as II gradually raises his head. Vessel offers his partner a smile before he reaches back, shaking III’s knee until the bassist jerks awake. “We’re here.”
“About time,” II grumbles with a stretch, his neck cracking in the process.
“Wakey wakey, Ives,” III sing-songs, his voice still deep and gravelly from sleep. IV slumps further against III’s upper arm, burying his face in the fabric of the bassist’s hoodie in response. “None of that now. Come on, let’s go get ourselves settled, yeah?”
“Got the passcode still?” II inquires as Vessel retracts his arm, unfastening his seatbelt before he removes the keys from the ignition.
“Got it memorized, it’s simple,” Vessel answers with a smile as he exits the vehicle, staring up at the sprawling cottage that was to be their home away from home for the duration of their stay.
Writer’s block.
It never struck him often, but after months of unsuccessful attempts at finishing his and II’s latest album, a change of scenery seemed like the next reasonable step. The cottage’s exterior is pristine in spite of the building’s apparent age. Seafoam green walls and lattices climbed the home’s facing, adorned with white trim and a porch equipped with plush furniture that remained untouched by the surrounding snow.
The aged cottage stands out in stark juxtaposition to the surrounding harsh landscape. Sharp stones. Deep blue waters, cresting with the whites of vicious waves. The sound alone is peaceful, but the sprawling expanse, devoid of other people, shops, and distractions, is already a welcome change.
Vessel pivots slowly on his heel as II comes to a halt beside him. Salt crystals and slush stick to the tread of his boots as he leans down and kisses the drummer’s already reddening cheek.
“Thanks for doing this for me,” he says sincerely, because it was, after all, him that was the problem. II was a maestro of everything he touched. The drummer always knew what fills to add, what synths to utilize, what tempos to play, and Vessel knew that he was the one holding them back, preventing them from making progress. II reaches up for him, pulling him down, and just as II so often does for him, Vessel willingly follows. Their foreheads rest together, their breaths escaping in warm tufts of air in the biting cold, as II kisses the skin of his nose and smooths back his hair.
“You don’t have to thank me for this, Ve. We can stay as long as need to,” II assures him, and that’s all it ever takes. II’s patience and understanding is a lifeline to him, something he’s certain he can never live without. “Don’t worry about trying to write anything today. Let’s get settled and get a fire started before the sun goes down. It’s only going to get colder.”
“If you didn’t love the cold so much, we could be sipping mojitos in Cancun right now.” III chides with a laugh, but his tone is entirely teasing. Vessel can’t help but chuckle as II slowly releases him, only for the bassist to wrap Vessel up in his arms, kissing his cheek. “Clear that pretty little head of yours whichever way you need to, Vess. You’ve got us here to keep you warm and sane.”
“How could he ever live without us?” IV jokingly grumbles as the last door to the suburban slams close. Vessel gently nudges III’s arms off of him as II takes the keys from Vessel’s hand, making towards the trunk in search of their bags. Vessel reaches for IV’s arm, reeling him into his side before making towards the front porch. IV leans into him, his eyelids still half-hooded, clearly still half asleep.
“I couldn't, I can promise you that much.” Vessel replies with a small smile, raising his free hand to type in the code provided to him by the property owner. The small lockbox clicks open, and he removes the key from within, shutting the box after he retrieves it.
The door unlocks with ease on the first turn of the key. The smell of freshly oiled floors greets him as he ushers IV inside before stepping in after him. The interior of the house is pristine in its cleanliness, but sparse with furnishings. There's two simple sofas in the living room, situated around a flatscreen television.
But more importantly, there is a desk alongside the living room's further wall, placed right beside a large bay window. He knows if he moves the curtains, he'll have a perfect view of the sea. It's all the inspiration he could hope for, something to take his mind away from his struggles and help him find the metaphorical words to turn them into art.
The sound of II's familiar footfall, accompanied by III's, pulls him out of his reverie as he spins on his heel. II drops their bags in the entryway, depositing the car keys by the doorway as III locks the door behind them.
“Go unpack and explore,” II instructs, as if he’s somehow read Vessel’s mind. “No writing today, remember? We all need to get some rest and unwind.”
“I remember,” Vessel insists as he circles back for his bag while the others do the same. They climb the aged stairwell that leads them to the master bedroom.
A gargantuan bed rests in the center of the navy blue room's expanse, decorated with aquatic memorabilia and a rug that depicts the ocean's waves. Vessel doesn't hesitate to kick his boots off as he sets his bag aside.
His eyes meet IV's, and in the next moment, they're once more out the bedroom door. They explore both bathrooms, each sporting a claw foot tub and a newly installed glass shower. Then they explore the guest rooms, more simple than the master bedroom, but comfortable all the same.
“Time to put that fireplace to work,” II hums as he falls into step behind them. Vessel takes the stairs two at a time, bounding through the house with an ever present smile.
“Who's going to be the one on fire duty?” IV asks as soon as they reenter the living room. Vessel’s eyes trail past the simple sofas to the stone fireplace nestled beside them.
“Not you, that's for sure,” III teases as his fingers run along the staircase's railing. “You nearly burnt us alive back in Dublin.”
“That was one time,” IV bemoans, shaking his head as II sighs, stepping towards the unlit hearth.
“Go. Unpack. I’ll handle the fire.” II commands with a stern nod, his tone leaving no room for argument.
“Fine, fine. Let's finish exploring so we can think about something for dinner. I'm starving.” IV relents, looking at Vessel and III expectantly.
“Food sounds nice,” Vessel agrees as he nods his head towards the connected dining room. It's nothing lavish, but purely functional. A lengthy table comprised of reclaimed wood, outfitted with eight chairs. “Could have our very own buffet.”
“Don't tempt me,” IV snickers, rubbing at his stomach while it audibly growls. Vessel snorts, stepping into the dining room with III and IV in tow, before making his way to the adjoining kitchen.
It's the only sign of opulence in the cottage's homey interior. The cabinets are newly installed and covered in crisp white paint. The countertops are marble, swirling shades of gray and black that stand out in stark contrast to the deep blue walls and stainless steel appliances. Beside Vessel, III lets out an appreciative whistle.
Except, III's lips never move to make a sound.
The whistle seems to hang in the air a fraction too long, echoing faintly against the walls. Indiscernible in its origin. Vessel's brow furrows as he opens his lips to speak, meeting the bassist’s confused expression with one of his own, but the sound of a displeased grunt from II silences him before he can speak.
IV is out of the kitchen before them, leading them back into the living room where II stands past the television, halfway into the hall. The floorboards creak beneath their steps in a rhythm that almost seems to follow them, but before Vessel can express his peculiar observation, they come screeching to a halt. II curses once more, clearly frustrated, and Vessel watches as the drummer tries the handle of an antiquated door to no avail.
It doesn't so much as budge, let alone let out a groan from the strain II exerts upon it.
“Damn door won't open,” II all but spits, releasing the handle with a displeased frown. “I was hoping it was a storage closet. There isn’t much firewood.”
“It's probably just stuck,” Vessel says with a shrug as he approaches their obviously frustrated partner. “Here, let me try.”
“By all means. macho man,” IV snorts as he sinks onto the nearby couch, dragging III down with him. Vessel rolls his eyes at the yelps of mock surprise that the bassist emits as he reaches for the rusty knob of the storage closet.
He turns the knob in hand, feeling the chipping paint of the door as it brushes against his knuckles, but in spite of his strength, the door doesn't so much as click. Vessel frowns as he wraps his other hand around the knob, using both hands for leverage as he attempts to force the door open.
Once more, it doesn’t budge.
It feels as if the door itself doesn’t want to open, stubborn and unyielding in a way that makes the hairs on Vessel’s arms prickle.
“Have either of you considered that maybe it’s locked?” IV hums amusedly.
Vessel sighs as he slowly releases the handle.
“There weren’t supposed to be any locked doors,” II huffs, sounding displeased. “The listing said we had full access to the house and its amenities. I’ll reach out to Nancy and see if she can bring us the key.”
“It’s just a closest, who cares?” III asks with a shrug as Vessel pivots on his heel. “We need to make a run to town anyway. We can grab more firewood then.”
“I care, and it doesn’t matter why it won’t open. I’ll handle it.” II tells them, silencing the bassist with a pointed look. “Not only does it go against the listing that I paid good money for, but who knows what’s behind the door. We can never be too careful, III. You’re too trusting of others. Listen to me on this, and don’t give me lip about it.”
“Sorry,” III exclaims through a frown, bowing his head in defeat. II steps forward, taking the taller man’s hand and squeezing it with his own.
“Enough of that now,” II says with a reassuring smile. “Let me worry about that sort of thing. I want you all to focus on decompressing instead. Let’s go to the market, grab enough food for us to stock up, then I’ll make us a proper fire. How does that sound?”
“Sounds good to me. I’m glad we solved the mystery of the unmovable door,” IV sleepily muses, stretching out his limbs with a slight yawn. Vessel can’t help but smile as II strides forward, playfully pinching their partner’s cheek. “What’s that for?”
“Quit being such a smartass,” II chides him, but there’s humor in his eyes in spite of his warning. “Don’t make me start correcting bad behavior on our first night here, love.”
“Wouldn’t want that now, would we?” IV responds cheekily, smirking when II playfully taps his cheek.
“Not another word, IV. Car, now. All of you.” II instructs them, waving them back towards the entryway. Vessel shifts his weight as he watches IV and III fall into step behind the drummer, but his feet feel leaden, rooting him in place.
A sense of dread washes over him, an unease that seeps into his bones, and forces the hair on the back of his neck to rise, standing on end. A part of himself wonders if it's the remnants of lingering guilt. He was, after all, the sole reason why any of this was necessary. He only hopes that it helps him find inspiration, enough of it that he can comfortably write again without scrapping page after page of lyrics and songs, unhappy with the outcome. He brushes off the anxiety he feels as he follows his partners out of the front door, locking it behind him.
As they pile back into their rental car, his eyes drift to the towering, aged cottage, once more studying its imposing form. When II begins backing the vehicle out of the driveway after adjusting the driver’s seat, Vessel’s eyes catch sight of the living room’s curtains, swaying slightly as if caught in an unseen breeze.
-
The market is surprisingly well stocked for a town so sparsely occupied in the winter.
Vessel hums softly to himself as he selects a pack of steaks from the meat cooler, converting the price on his head, before he walks back towards their shopping cart. IV adds in a bag of chicken wings while III emerges from one of the nearby aisles, dumping an armfull of chips and snacks into the rapidly filling cart.
“II is over in produce,” Vessel reminds them as he takes hold of the shopping cart and begins leading them back towards the far right side of the store. The few locals that they pass eyeball them warily, staring openly at them as they pass. Not a single one of them wears a pleasant expression, their eyes narrowed as if out of disdain as they navigate their way through the store.
“This place gives me the creeps,” III admits as they arrive at their destination, spotting II in the distance. The drummer holds a bag full of onions in one hand and an armful of various fruits in the other, his pale blue eyes scanning the remaining selection as they reconvene. “Everyone seems rude.”
“They’re probably not used to seeing tourists here in the winter time,” Vessel answers with a small shrug, writing off his own discomfort in a bid to appease their uncomfortable partner. “I wouldn’t take it too seriously.”
“They should mind their own business though,” IV grunts as they come to a stop before II, allowing the drummer to set his selection of fresh goods down in the cart.
“And we should mind ours,” II tuts as he nods his head towards the checkout lanes in the distance. “We’re only here for a few months, and we’re not here to socialize. We’ll stay out of their way and not cause them any issues. I’m sure that they’ll do the same.”
“Easy for you to say,” IV sighs, shoving his hands inside the pockets of his worn leather coat. “They’ve been glaring at us ever since you abandoned us in the meat department.”
“We’re jet lagged, hungry, and exhausted. Let’s not read too much into anything right now,” Vessel tries again, offering II a small smile as if to relay his intention of aiding him in calming their other partners. “I was thinking of making ribeyes and baked potatoes for dinner tonight.”
“Let me grab a bag of those and some asparagus. I’ve already got butter and garlic in the cart,” II informs him, turning on his heel and setting off to procure the other goods as they wait for him at the end of the produce section. When II returns, he looks up at III, raising a singular brow. “Did you get seasoning like I asked?”
“Fuck, no,” III groans, tipping his head back in annoyance before he grumbles and takes off, all but sprinting out of their view in search of salt and pepper.
“Try not to get an aneurysm, love.” Vessel tells II as he reaches out and brushes back the hair on the shorter man’s head. “If I’m ever going to get my head back on straight and stop being out of sorts, I’m going to need you with me. Preferably, relaxed and not ready to strangle III.”
“III gets a pass this time. IV is up for debate,” II replies with an amused snort, something that Vessel can’t help but grin over in spite of IV's immediate huff of protest. “You will get over this, Ve. It’s just a small hurdle. You’re a creative genius, especially when it comes to songwriting. Give yourself some time, and cut yourself slack. This trip isn’t just about writing a new album, it’s also about giving ourselves a bit of a break. Don’t overdo it.”
“I won’t,” Vessel promises him, slowly releasing II from his grasp as III comes bounding back towards them, a myriad of spices in hand. “Are we finally ready?”
“Got all the bath stuff, laundry, food, hygiene, spices… we should be good to go.” IV confirms, cracking his apparently sore neck before he rubs his nape. They walk quietly to the checkout lane then, taking a place behind an elderly woman who offers them a cold look before returning her attention back to the cash in her hands. “Tch. What the hell is wrong with these people?”
“Quiet,” II warns him with a stern look, and that’s the end of that.
Vessel sighs softly as he begins unloading the shopping cart, sorting their goods into an organized pile to make bagging easier on the clearly exhausted middle-aged cashier that they’ve selected. III picks up on his intention without asking, aiding him in the process, while IV eyes the nearby rack of mints and gum before tossing a few selections atop the belt. II pulls out his wallet the moment that the elderly woman takes her cart and leaves, offering them a frown on the way out.
“Hello,” II greets the cashier with a polite nod, but the man, Jerry, according to his name badge, doesn’t return his greeting. Vessel frowns at the interaction, noticing II’s mounting agitation as Jerry reaches for the first of their groceries, scanning the barcode before placing it into a paper sack.
“You boys visiting?” Jerry asks, and the question startles Vessel. It’s the first time anyone from the area has spoken to them at all. Even Nancy, the woman who rented them the property, has been ignoring II’s texts and calls. Vessel clears his throat as he nods, silently answering the man’s question. Jerry grunts once, returning to his task. “Awful lot of groceries you’re buying. The shop is open all year long. You don’t need to stock up, and you won’t need this much food to begin with.”
Vessel immediately wishes that Jerry would have remained silent. The smile dies on his lips as he turns his attention back to their groceries. Behind him, III and IV tut, clearly annoyed with the situation themselves, but they all know when to remain quiet.
When to let II handle things so that they don't have to.
“Why we're here and what we buy is none of your concern,” II says, his voice eerily calm. Vessel doesn't need to know that the drummer’s expression is deadpan. “I've never met someone who didn't want their store to bring in more profit.”
“It is none of my concern,” Jerry returns with a gruff snort. “Just an informed observation.”
“We don't need your advice, only your services. We'll be out of your hair after that,” II retorts with a grunt of his own.
Vessel expects the conversation to die down then, the arguing replaced by the quiet beeping of the checkout lane’s scanner, but while they all knew not to test II’s patience in situations like this, IV tends to do it anyway.
“Maybe we should find some other town nearby to go to. This place fucking sucks,” IV grumbles, crossing his arms in an overly dramatic, exaggerated fashion. Vessel ducks his head on instinct, unable to fathom backtalking in front of II, whereas IV loved the thrill of pushing their eldest partner’s buttons.
“Stop,” III warns IV instead, and while it isn’t rare for him to use that tone with them inside the confines of their own home, it is something else entirely for the bassist to do so in public. It goes against his image of who he is on the outside, boisterous and funny, eccentric yet kind. III’s tone is as stern as II’s always is as the bassist clamps a hand down on IV’s shoulder, demanding his compliance.
Vessel knows that IV will pay for it later, his disobedience, and while that spells out a nightmare scenario for Vessel, it brings their guitarist nothing but a giddy laugh and a mischievous smile.
“Disrespectful bunch,” Jerry remarks as he continues to scan their purchases, albeit at a much more languid pace. “Don’t be coming around here looking to start trou-”
“We’re here to shop. Scan the groceries and don’t talk to my partners like that.” II interjects, his voice as commanding as it is annoyed. Vessel shifts his weight once more as he takes hold of their shopping cart, refusing to raise his head as he politely excuses himself past II and stops at the end of the checkout lane. He grabs ahold of their bags and silently loads the cart, all too keenly aware of the tense atmosphere that surrounds them.
Uncomfortable silence befalls them as Jerry finishes scanning their goods. Vessel loads the remainder of their items into the cart before he finally raises his gaze. His eyes land on the flickering fluorescent lights above the register lane before they dart to the side. Jerry offers them an unamused expression, setting his jaw.
“Your total is two ninety one,” Jerry deadpan before raising a brow. “Cash or card?”
“Card,” II grits out, jamming his card into the chip reader with a little more force than necessary.
Vessel grabs the cart, waiting for IV and III to pass him before he follows after them, leaving II to handle the remainder of their uncomfortable interaction.
“You're awfully grumpy today,” III notes as he reels IV into his side, seizing him by the shoulders.
“I'm tired,” IV confesses through a sigh, leaning further into III's side. “I just want us to relax, but so far things have just been… stressful. I'm not going to tolerate people being rude to us either.”
Vessel swallows uncomfortably, frowning downward at their cart as they walk out of the sliding doors to the mart and into the brisk, ocean air.
“I'm sorry for dragging you all here,” Vessel whispers, more to himself than to his partners, his voice carried away by the wind. Having clearly not heard him, III lets out a loud, dramatic exhale.
“You know that II isn't going to let this slide, doll. You're making things harder on yourself again. But that's the entire point, isn’t it?” III chuckles as they finally reach their rental car.
“I'm well aware,” IV laughs right back with a playful lilt in his tone.
Vessel forces the guilt he feels down as II emerges from the grocery store, unlocking the car with the fob. He doesn't hesitate to open the trunk then, transferring over their purchases as III slips into the car. II's familiar footfall crunches over ice and salt as he reaches the car, grabbing IV by his arm and reeling him in.
“When we get back, help Vessel and III put the groceries up while I drive to pick up firewood. When I get back, I'm going to put that mouth of yours to work since you're so keen on running it.” II says, his voice husky and gravelly, as IV's breath audibly catches. “Get in the car.”
IV doesn't say a word as he scrambles into the backseat, slamming the door behind him, much to II's apparent chagrin.
“What am I going to do with them?” II bemoans, but Vessel knows that tone of voice. The poorly contained fondness and the promise of an eventful night to come.
II joins him in piling up the remaining groceries, shutting the trunk when their cart is empty. Vessel starts towards the nearby corral only for II's hand to stop him.
“Come here,” II grumbles lowly, and his words may as well be a command, one that Vessel is powerless to disobey. He listens on instinct, lowering his head until II's hands cup his cheeks, guiding him down. Their eyes are level when II's gaze sweeps over him, quiet and accessing, dissecting his state of being, both physical and mental.
Eight years of knowing someone will have that effect, after all. II can read him like a book, but he always has had that uncanny ability.
“Tonight, I want you to relax. Do you understand me?” II asks slowly, his palpable concern melding into his pale blue eyes. Vessel shudders in his hold as he nods, their cart rolling towards the empty spaces beside them, carried away by the seabreeze. “Good. When we get back, get into something comfortable before you make dinner. After we eat and IV's been reminded of what happens when he runs his mouth, I want your head in my lap.”
“Whatever you want,” Vessel hums, leaning into the offered touch as II's deft fingers card through his dark brown locks, brushing them back. “You know that I won't complain.”
“At least that makes one of you,” II retorts, dragging him in closer until soft, plush lips press against Vessel's own. He hums appreciatively, expertly slotting his lips against II's with practiced ease and familiarity. As they gradually part, II still cups his cheeks, keeping their foreheads together. “Everything will work itself out, Ve. Keep that pretty head of yours on straight for me.”
“I promise I'll try,” Vessel whispers softly as the cool breeze washes over them, jostling their clothes and hair.
The horn honks, startling him, but II merely scoffs.
“Do I even want to know which one of them did that?” II mutters out under his breath as they part.
Vessel giggles, shrugging, as he retrieves the blown away shopping cart and returns it to the corral. By the time he reaches the car and climbs inside, II is already in the driver's seat, slotting the key into the ignition.
The drive is surprisingly quiet. Vessel finds himself curling up in the passenger seat, resting his head against the window, watching the coastline as they pass by it in a blur. Jet lag and exhaustion creep up on him as the silence in the car continues. He finds himself nodding off until the sound of crunching salt beneath tire tread rouses him, signaling their arrival.
The moment that II turns off the ignition, they're climbing out of the car. They grab the groceries without conversing, falling into a familiar and comfortable silence, before the trunk is slammed shut and the car is locked. They walk carefully over the ice melt and freshly fallen snow, reaching the doorway before Vessel sets down his bags, reaching into the pocket for his key.
He unlocks it with a sigh, pushing open the door for his partners before seizing hold of the grocery bags at his feet. He follows after them, tracking ice and crystals into the entryway.
It is only then that he hears it, the crackling of a fire.
II, leading them, freezes in place. IV stumbles into III's back as the bassist screeches to a halt.
Vessel swallows uncomfortably, nervousness and unease sinking in, as he sets down his shopping bags beside the doorway and walks quietly to II's side.
“Stay here,” II commands, but IV and III won't allow that. And for the first time since Vessel's relationship with the drummer began, he won't be listening to him either. II's immediate look of disapproval stings. Vessel never has taken pleasure in disappointing him, but II nods sternly, giving in, as IV and III lower their bags in tandem with the drummer.
Silently, they enter the living room.
Firewood sits piled high beside the roaring hearth. Wave after wave of searing heat washes over them the further that they slink into the otherwise empty room. Fear creeps its way up Vessel's spine, his hair standing on end, as he slowly turns his head, following II's ever observant gaze.
In the nearby hallway, the once locked door now sits wide open.