Circa 1983. (Contains gay love. Deal with it.)
The commotion had been far too long gone since just about everybody was leaving the recording studio. It was 9pm, and the whole crew was headed out for their delayed dinners. Elton, on the other hand, had himself perched up on a lanky, turquoise stool, sitting tall and lean like a he owned a director's chair. He was totally content with staying in the studio a little longer- practicing more new songs on his own and maybe for a little silence to cure his piece of mind as well.
He heard the last person make their rounds to the door and open it, and for an unknown reason Elton was compelled to make them stay a little bit longer.
"Hey, Bernie?" Elton peeked his head around the corner to find his best friend and lyricist bundled up in his furry brown winter jacket. He was just heading out the door when Elton reached out and grabbed his shoulder, a weak grin across his face.
"Why don't you stay with me a little longer?" He politely suggested.
Bernie turned his head and looked up at Elton- he was always slightly taller than him, even without his ever-so magnificently tall boots. Elton had always liked the height his boots have given him on stage. He felt bigger than life, bold and in control. But when he was amongst his friends, like now, he didn't quite mind lowering his height a few inches for a little comfort.
"I have to eat somethin', E." Bernie paused for a moment and looked at the floor, lost in a thought. "Could I come back in an hour?"
Elton smiled a little more and patted his friend's shoulder. "Sure, thanks Bernie."
There was a certain slight glow in Elton's eye, that almost seemed to glisten. Bernie assumed it was the positioning of the lighting, but he swore that maybe there was something more to that shine. It just seemed too abnormal to him.
As he turned towards the door again and began to leave, Bernie took one more glance at Elton's bright-eyed baby face. He looked like he was in anticipation; waiting for Bernie to say something more. So he did.
"What do you want me for, exactly?" He scratched his head.
Elton's eyes darted to the floor, but quickly raced back up to Bernie's face as if he was caught in the act of doing something suspicious. He smiled innocently, maybe to cover up a thought he didn't quite want to discuss or share.
"Oh you know, just somebody to uhh, keep me company while I write some songs."
"Elton, we never write songs together in the same room." Bernie said, "You know this."
Elton rubbed his chin, where he had a few small stubbles growing. He was too lazy to shave this morning.
"Oh, I don't mean for us to collaborate. I just wanna talk and have a good time while I write, you know?"
Bernie closed the door a little more, indicating that he was really about to leave. But he was still intrigued by the things Elton was saying. Why did he want him to stay? What was the real reason?
"Man, that's kinda weird. We just talked all day-"
"No, no no-" Elton interrupted abruptly, "Okay, the truth is, I just want to talk to you one on one about somehting, okay?" Elton suddenly dropped his smile to a frown to show that he was more serious about wanting Bernie's company. His friend understood this expression immediately, having known Elton for such a long time.
"Okay, okay, I promise I'll be back after a bite to eat." Bernie reassured him and began to close the door.
"Thank you, Bernie." Elton said most sincerely; an earnest tone in his voice.
It was almost 10 o'clock, and Elton had been at the piano the whole time, reading, writing, and revising some of the tracks for his upcoming album, "Too Low For Zero". He was particularly working on a somber, soft tune called "Cold As Christmas". It was one of his favorites on the album.
He took his hands off the keys and looked at the clock up above the doorway. It was 9:56pm to be exact, and Elton was too anxious for Bernie's arrival. He didn't know how else to pass time anymore, so he just thought about what he was going to say to him. And thought. And thought. And thought until he couldn't think anymore. Finally, he sat down on his tall, turquoise chair and leaned his head back and sighed. He stayed like that until he heard a soft knock on the door.
Elton jumped from his seat as Bernie slowly opened the door and peered into the room. It was quiet, peaceful and dark inside the recording studio. All to be heard was the ticking of the clock and the subdued voices of two lonely men.
"Hey E, I'm back as promised." Bernie spoke softly. He smiled at Elton, who was sitting patiently alone in his chair in the darkness. Elton smiled back and walked up to his friend. They closed the door and turned on a dim lamp.
"Thank you, really..." Elton sounded a bit desperate in his words, but soon changed the subject. "So where'd you go eat?"
"At that new restaurant down the road." He pointed in a direction out the window, "You know, that one with the funky name."
Elton chuckled and put his hand to his mouth politely, "You mean the one we can never remember the name to?"
"Yes, that one!" Bernie laughed with Elton for a little spur of the moment to liven things up before he really asked him what was on his mind.
"But anyway," Bernie touched Elton's hand, "What did you want to talk to me about?" He was a bit tense about what he might hear from Elton's mouth. He knew Elton was bound to say ridiculous things.
Elton suddenly sighed and took his friend's hand, dragging him slowly into a nearby lounge room. He insisted they had a chat in there on the big, luxurious black couches. Once they sat, he cleared his throat and tried to look at Bernie who was sitting beside him, but the nervousness in his veins took over and he had to look away. He knew it was time to confess it.
"Alright, Bernie." Elton began, "Does love ever frustrate you sometimes?"
Bernie's eyes lit up with laughter as he shouted across the tiny room, "Ooooh Elton, who is it now that you like? Another girl? A man? That broad we saw walking down the street yesterday?"
Elton wasn't laughing much though. He meant what he said.
"Nobody. Bernie, I'm asking you a question."
Bernie relaxed himself to stop his laughing and to speak, "Alright, well, does love frustrate me? Hell yes. Why do you ask that, E?"
Elton clenched his hands together and looked at his lap, then Bernie's brooding, kind eyes- over and over again in a nervous manner.
"Well I mean, I've just been kinda... stressed over something."
"...Love?" Bernie asked.
"..." Elton sighed deep from within his chest, "Yes."
Bernie scooted slightly closer to Elton, noticing he had a very distant, faraway look in his eyes.