Shades of cool [Ollie]

Jae was nowhere to be found, but Ezra couldn’t stop blushing after the show. He had met Oliver one time before, and the man had such a je ne sais quoi that Ezra found himself completely smitten. This was complicated, really, since he was now dating his long-time crush, Circe Sutcliffe. He loved Circe. He really did. Still, Oliver had something about him that drew Ezra in, and he felt guilty. As the show simmered down, Ezra pushed his way to the front of the crowd, utilizing his press pass to get himself backstage. He was really looking for Rheya, in all honesty, but when he saw Ollie, he stood still. 

“Hey.” He greeted. “Um, remember me? I’m Rheya’s friend. Ezra Cohen. I’m with wizarding wireless radio, or.. well, I’m really just a fan.” He stammered. “This concert was absolutely great.” He smiled. “You guys are straight out of the sixties, it’s fantastic. Do you, uh, think I could get a comment for the radio show?” He asked. 

He felt awkward, the ulterior motive of wanting to be in the man’s presence all but completely obvious, but he tried to do his job regardless. “We could go somewhere quieter, if you want? I know you have to see other fans, I guess?” 

@Oliver Rigby

"No, no that's you," Oliver ran a hand affectionately over Jonesy’s chin before dropping to give a playful pat on the neck, returning his compliment. He glanced at the woman whom he was draped over and offered a wider grin, if that were even possible. "Be gentle with him," He wagged a finger before being pulling in another direction, into another embrace, a drink placed precariously in his palm.

It was just another city, he supposed, even if it was their city, in some small way. The tour of the United Kingdom had come and gone with the tires having burned the pavement as they met the finale, back right to where they had started. Ollie, at least, had successfully distracted himself for a couple of months that they played the series of small venues tucked away amongst the metropolises— the semblance real life seemed like a distant memory. He wouldn't have wanted it any other way for a number of reasons.

A familiar face popped up before he could process it. "Record store boy is with the wizarding wireless radio?" Oliver hadn't meant it condescendingly and he clapped an arm over his shoulder to say as much as they were swayed into the commotion backstage. He would never be able to fathom how many people it took to pull something like it together and he was certain he would always be in awe.

"Of course, of course," Forest eyes scanned the area, frowning slightly. "Not much quiet around these parts," He smiled vaguely and led the way down the hall toward the makeshift greenroom where he was sure they would find most of the roadies partaking in various levels of illegal activities. "Rheya know your here?" He glanced over his shoulder to Ezra, recalling the man's particular fondness for their mutual friend, already planning his next move to put them in a room together.

Ezra blushed a bit. Record store boy. He supposed he deserved that. He hadn’t made much of an impression that night, had he, aside from sharing a puff of his joint and making a strange joke about indirect kissing. Of course, Ezra remembered every second of their interaction, every awkward second.

He shook his head. “Nah, not yet. I was making my rounds. You think she wants to comment too? I mean, I drove here, if you want to get some fresh air we could go sit in my Mustang, or ...go for a drive or something, if you want.” He never in a million years thought that could be the case. “I know, I know, really muggle but… my car is my baby.” He promised. He kept her nice, for a 1993 mustang. He even learned how to fix her up a bit. She was sparkling clean and honey-yellow.

Ezra found himself, against his better judgement, not caring at all if he missed out on seeing Rheya, so long as he got to spend some more time in this man’s magnetic presence. He knew this was dangerous, and Circe would be mad at him for even entertaining the fantasy, but there he was, drawn in.

“Uh, yeah.” He said, changing his mind mid-sentence. He was going to offer to hotbox him, but then decided that wasn’t professional or cool or anything. He didn’t deserve a bit of this man’s attention. There was a reason Oliver hadn’t remembered his name.

As suspected, the green room was full of faces both familiar and not. He caught the eye of a girl draped over their guitar techs lap who nearly fell over at the sight of him. Ollie grinned and offered a nod in greeting to those not otherwise preoccupied before turning back to Ezra. “Told you…” The lack of quiet options night like it hadn’t been an exaggeration, though he wouldn’t have had it any other way. “Carry on, carry on” He gestured broadly, pushing off from the frame of the door as the record store boy mentioned his muggle car.

Ollie’s eyes widened. Muggle things had always fascinated him, not that his family was all that averse to them when he was growing up. His mother had a fascination of sorts, always bringing little trinkets home from the people she met.

“Lets,” He decided quickly, his gaze shifting down the hall to where he could only assume that Ezra had parked his car— had he driven there, and where from Ollie wondered to himself.

“Parked out back?” Oliver asked, already turning in that direction before getting confirmation. It was clear, as it had been when he first met Ezra, that that was an air of uncomforted about him, almost nervous. And that made Ollie want to work harder to make things feel a bit more light. “I probably can’t be gone for too long,” He thought more to himself than anything. His absence would be noticed after a bit, anyway. “So this comment?” He looked back to Ezra with a smile as he pushed open the door to outside where the air was clear and ringing quietly.

Backstage at this concert was like a dream. He wondered if it was his own future. He had entertained the idea that one day their band would get big, but he never thought of details like this—of girls draped over the laps of his guitar techs, having a good time after the show was over. He thought of the fans, cute young things like he was now, fawning over the band members and getting tongue tied. It was nice. He liked the idea of someone really liking them. Maybe he would be someone’s favorite band member. He could barely imagine being anyone’s favorite anything. He wasn’t memorable. Record store boy. 
 
He was out of his element here a little bit, but he didn’t mind it. He liked the change. He liked being a little uncomfortable. He liked the idea that maybe, one day, this could be his life. He was a little lightheaded, feeling high, though he was as sober as he ever was (which wasn’t saying much). He smiled at Ollie, a little happy the other had been so amused by the idea of his car. He clearly lit up when he talked about Honey, his Mustang. “You ever been in a muggle car before?” He asked. “I know you can’t be gone for long. Let’s just let you take a quick breather and then I’ll get out of your hair.” He didn’t want to say that. He definitely wanted to stay in the other man’s hair for a while, yet. 
 
He went out back with Ollie, eyeing him up with large pupils. Even the way he walked was mesmerizing, really. What was with him tonight? Why was he so enamored with this guy, and what made him so special? He had a vibe about him that Ezra couldn’t pinpoint. It was a sixties sort of freeness that he didn’t have, himself. He, himself, was very eighties and nineties. White boy hip hop, like the Beastie Boys. Grunge. Alternative and punk. Nothing like this guy’s vibe, and to be honest their vibes clashed a bit. Even so, he didn’t mind it. He loved the change. 
 
He hit the hood of his car with a proud smile. “This is my baby.” He offered proudly. “You can touch her if you want.” He promised. “Have you ever been in a car before?” He wondered. “And about the comment, well, let’s be honest—I didn’t think I’d really get this far. Your performance tonight was amazing, how do you feel when you put on something like tonight?” He asked. After a moment, he pulled out a wizarding recording device from his pocket. “Actually, do you mind if I record this?” 

The car was one of a few out the back, but Merlin did it shine? Oliver carefully ran his fingers over its hood (with permission) before glancing over his shoulder back to Ezra. What he knew of the other wizard seemed to be so tucked away, a man having made himself small— but that kind of car explained, perhaps, another side of him. Something of a flare for dramatics. And that Ollie could identify with.

"I have," He nodded wistfully. "A few times," Not a lot. His neighbors were muggles and often the dad took him and his brothers out for rides around the block when they were kids.

Back to the comment. Oliver had nearly forgotten with all of the gold before him that there was a professional (well, semi) job to be done. "Well, here we are..." He grinned, stretching out his arms and leaning back carefully to half-sit on the hood. His green eyes, despite the darkness of the night, lit up as he watched Ezra switch on his reporter voice, his whole demeanor moving with it. There was nothing like seeing someone in their element.

By the time the question came to him Ollie was too distracted to catch it. "Hmm..." He thought aloud, nodding to indicate that he had no problem with the recording device being used. In fact—"How does it feel?" He repeated, pushing himself from the hood of the car and toward Ezra. "It feels like magic," He took the little recorder, this time without permission and pulled it to his mouth as if that made any difference, before flicking it off.

"Are you muggleborn?" Just as quickly, he was on to the next subject.

Ezra wasn’t really doing a good job expressing himself in front of Ollie. He was not shy, typically, and he didn’t know what was making him behave so shyly around the other. The car was, indeed, just like his personality. It was dramatic and loud and unapologetic. Seeing Ollie admire her was filling Ezra with some confidence.

“Ah well, always a third time for everything.” He teased, watching Oliver drape himself over the hood like something that definitely needed to be appreciated before being completely devoured. His heart was racing, and it took everything he had not to descend upon him in that moment. He didn’t want to be creepy and predatory. He was trying to hard not to be, but Oliver was making it hard by just being so overtly sensual.

Ezra clicked on the device as Oliver spoke, feeling chills. Oliver spoke only a few words into the thing—something that reminded Ezra that a few words would be basically useless on his radio show, but who cared? He’d be listening to the way Ollie said Magic for the rest of the night when he got home, most likely. He took the recording device from Ezra, and Ezra didn’t even mind.

Then the topic changed, and Ezra felt a strange sense of anticlimax. “Uh, no, actually. I see where you’d think that from the car. Family’s pretty old. Purebloods, not that I care much about that.” He admitted. “My friends and I are in a post-war kind of political commentary band, a lot of it is about muggleborn rights and stuff. We’re pretty much all into it.” He laughed.

“You might not remember, but I play bass for them.” He reminded. “We’re definitely still in the garage stage, though.” He laughed. “You guys really made it. I know playing my first gig I felt like I was high on something, but, for once, I wasn’t.” He laughed. He didn’t want this to end.

“Wanna take a seat inside? She’s cozy.”

The other man all-too-easily let go of the voice recorder in a way that made it feel it had always belonged to Oliver. Happily, he held atop on his torso as he sat back again on the hood of the car. and verging on smug. He hadn't given much for whatever interview Ezra needed it for, but he still had time, he figured. That was another fatal flaw that came about in the midst of his career blossoming—  or, ballooning was it? Often he wondered when it might just pop.

But that was a dark thought. And Ollie wasn't in the business of dark thoughts at the moment. "You mentioned that..." He recalled wistfully, green eyes cast upward to the dark sky before flicking back down to him. The stars and the moon were hidden by passing clouds that had been sucked into the wind, only visible every other time he really looked.

"I like it out here better," He leaned up on his elbows and pulled himself out of his own dreamland. Ollie much preferred the stars to the nuances of a nice muggle vehicle interior, anyway. "Sorry—" It dawned on him that he had made himself right at home on top of the hood of the car. His childhood neighbor would have had he and his brothers' head for that kind of luxury without permission. "Can I sit here?" He gestured around the vicinity vaguely.

Ezra, who had been entertaining fantasies of the two of them snug inside his car, was a little disappointed in this turn of events, but not by much. The way Oliver was draped over the hood was beautiful in an ethereal sort of way. Under the stars, he looked a bit like a celestial being. Was that weird to think? Would it be weirder to say? 
 
“You look like you belong there, so who am I to say no?” He replied, laughing lightly, as he took the seat next to him, careful to not let their thighs touch no matter how much he wanted them to. This was pathetic, Ezra knew, but he couldn’t stop himself from dreaming. He was an eternal optimist, always dreaming and hoping. For a minute, in the calm silence that draped over them, he felt like they were the only two people in the world. It didn’t matter that Oliver didn’t seem interested in his own band or in him at all. He just wanted to be near him, regardless. 
 
“It’s a nice night, kind of cool but pretty clear. You can see the stars.” He pointed up, thinking of Circe only briefly. “That’s Orion.” He showed him. “Honestly, that’s the only one I could ever find in Astronomy.” He laughed. He wiggled in his pocket and pulled out a joint, considered, put it back, then pulled it out again. 
 
“Not very professional, I guess, but you wanna share this with me?” 

Well, that was the idea, wasn't it?

Oliver made a habit of belonging just about everywhere.

"Great," He sat back on his elbows gently as to not dent the metal of the car, eyes flicking upward again. It wasn't that the vehicle didn't feel sturdy, it was more that he didn't know the mechanics of it. Surely, that part of it was not meant for leisure. Ollie pulled up a leg and the heel of his leather boot foot propped over the front bumper. Vaguely, he was aware of Ezra as he sat down on the other side, only because he could feel the thing move with him.

The greens of his eyes were lit dimly from the stars and they followed to where Ezra indicated— he knew that from Astronomy, he thought. That was one of the few classes he was actively interested in at Hogwarts. The rest felt like placeholders. "It is beautiful, isn't in?" The same feeling struck him as it did back then. They were so small compared to it all.

"I won't tell your boss..." Ollie grinned and pulled out his wand from the front pocket of his jeans, then held it toward the cigarette. A quick spell and the tip was ignited in a bright orange flame. He gestured to Ezra to inhale and watched as he did, still toying with the recording device in his free hand. "I'll get you a better quote, by the way..." He explained. In the moment (as usual), dramatics had taken over, but he knew the importance of giving the station something to actually work with.

Looking into the stars, listening to Oliver’s soft voice, Ezra did feel particularly small. The universe was so vast, and then there they were, tiny dots in the vastness of it all. He didn’t know if he liked being so self-aware, but it was comforting a bit, too. Nothing mattered in the long run. Had he been more cynical, that would have bothered him.

Ezra flushed lightly as Ollie lit his joint, then inhaled before passing it over to him. He used more than he should, he knew, but it helped and he didn’t know what he’d really do without a little crutch to help with some of that omnipresent anxiety.

“Do me better.” He suggested. “Just come down to the station one day, maybe? I’ll get you to record a whole thing for me.” He suggested, a little hopeful. “you could bring the others if you want, or it could be just you. I know everyone, you included, is super busy… I’ll keep it short. Or maybe if you’re lucky I’ll get you a pint after for a job well done.” He really wanted an excuse to see this man again, even if he would never get the guts to do anything other than gawk at him.

Oliver considered it as he looked from each dot of the star-sprinkled black sky to the next— a formal interview. He'd gotten used to those (he had to) but had found more and more that they were too contrite to really get anything of a real substance across. He got the feeling, though, that Ezra had a knack for making the process more of a conversation and less of a transaction. If their interactions thus far were any indication, anyway. The wizard was charismatic in his own way, in a way that made it impossible not to open up.

"Sure," He smiled sincerely as he looked over to Ezra to take the cigarette. "We're professionals now—" Ollie paused to inhale, leaned back on his elbow, was careful to not use too much pressure. After a moment, he slowly pushed the smoke from his lungs and out of the corner of his mouth. "—just don't tell me you've got one of those morning shows..." His face went dark (well as dak as it could). He wasn't sure he could manage another 4AM start just for that.

The offer of a pint afterward indicated otherwise.

Ollie blindly handed the joint back after having turned back to the sky over them. "Make it a glass of champagne and I'm sold," He grinned. He didn't mind beer but was prone to beverages with a little bit of fizz— anything to make him feel like he was in the clouds. "You like it?" He wondered the moment the thought hit him. "Being a reporter?" He clarified, considering the fact that Ezra wasn't able to simply read his mind.

Ezra laughed lightly. “Morning show? NO, I would die.” He laughed. “Actually, I typically have class in the mornings anyway. Class in the mornings, work in the afternoons. The band is on hiatus while our drummer finishes up school, but we’re thinking we might try to get something together for a gig this winter break, if he is practicing. God, I hope he’s practicing.” He sighed, taking the cigarette back and taking a deep inhale. He exhaled away from Oliver as he passed back.

“Anyway, Champagne it is. You are a little extra, aren’t you? A little larger than life and over the top. You know it, too, huh?” He smiled. “I love it. Your whole… thing. The energy you put off. I’m just basking in it, so pardon me.” He laughed lightly. “You certainly deserve to be a Rockstar with charisma like that.” He smiled, his eyes smiling wider than his mouth could.

“I guess I don’t really consider myself a reporter. I’m a—” he coughed, and used a serious voice playfully. “’radio personality’.” He teased. “I mean, that’s how I take it. I’m more… a comedian who sometimes talks to important people and sells home security charms.” He teased. “There’s so much sponsored content, but mostly it’s talking with cool people, like you, and listening to great music. Plus, if I get better, I might even get a chance to host a few gigs, I’m really looking forward to that. I love a crowd, really.”

And Ollie was meant to be extra?

From context clues, he could gather what the adjective meant but it was made all the more ironic given the other man's proclamation of death before morning show. Though, could he blame him?

Watching as Ezra took another inhale and following the trail of smoke as it left his mouth, he took half a moment to take in what he'd said. "Thanks," Ollie meant to be more bashful, but there he was, positively beaming. Though, he had meant it.

"My energy?!" He sat up a fraction with a grin. "You're sounding more and more like my flatmate..." His old flatmate, in truth. He hadn't lived there in what felt like a lifetime even though it had only been a couple of months. Kyra, the pseudo-hypnotist. "...and she talks to her plants," Oliver let out a good-natured laugh.

"Genuinely, that's very nice," Sincerity draped over him as it so often did.

"Interesting," He sat back again and took the cigarette once more to his mouth, pausing to inhale, then exhale slowly. "So, you like being a radio personality?" Emphasis on Ezra's choice of words with a sly smirk in his direction. He supposed the root of his question was getting to the bottom of what made the other man tick. What did he love, truly? And why? They were questions he often wondered of his peers.

"You're very charismatic, it suits you, you know," The afterthought was thrown in as he handed what was left of their cigarette over.

So, maybe Ezra was the king of extra, but he still meant what he’d said.  Oliver was over the top and larger than life. Untouchable, in a way. Ezra wished he knew the secret. Someone must have been there for him at some point. Someone must have been able to win him over, touch him regardless, and be somehow on his level. Ezra wasn’t there. He wasn’t on his level, and he regretted it immensely. He wished he could be so cool, just so effortlessly fantastic. Ezra tried hard for everything he did—too hard, maybe. He was always actively trying to be funny, be friendly, be interesting. Then there was Oliver, who just was. It baffled Ezra’s mind, but drew him in like a moth to flame. 
 
Ezra blushed when Oliver called him charismatic. If only he knew how hard it was to be a people person! Oliver didn’t seem to have an issue with anyone or anything. Ezra wondered if anyone had ever made the other man nervous, and then felt very jealous of whomever that other person probably was. 
 
“That’s kind, coming from the master of effortless charisma.” He teased lightly, taking the last hit off the joint and putting it out on the ground. “…but yeah, I love my job. Wish I could keep it. Unfortunately, my parents have other plans for me. They’d hate me making a career out of being a radio DJ. My dad wants me to get into business—my mom wants me into law. I’ll probably finish school, work for awhile, and then take over the station. All business. No fun part.” He sighed.  
 
“Of course, there’s the band. I suppose we could get famous or something, but I think my parents consider music a side interest rather than a viable career. They want me to have backups. I don’t know if I want to do music or comedy, but I was made to be on a stage. Maybe less than you, though. You were designed for something like this, and I bet you know it.” He grinned. 
 
He felt awkward, no cigarette to keep the other around, no real reason to keep talking. He wanted to, though. He was enamored by this poor guy, and wanted to linger around as long as Oliver would let him.