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The first time he met Conor he was at his door wanting to form a band because of some girl that he’d eventually run away with after Sing Streets first and last gig. Of course, Eamon encouraged Conor to leave. If anyone had any hope of making it big it was Conor. He still had that bright gleam in his eye, which had only be reignited time and time again by the girl of his dreams.
Eamon himself never thought that’d he’d see him again. Yet, here they are, standing in front of each other 5 years later in the Dublin Airport. Conor has a shoulder bag slung over his shoulder, the same one from high school. He’s wearing expensive sunglasses, and a large hat blocking out the sun. Of course, he has a similar black trench coat to the one he wore in their music video for Rhyme of a Model. The only thing looking over 200 Euros that he’s wearing were his boots, which shined more than his sunglasses reflected.
“Eamon…” Conor said as if recognizing him for the first time. Eamon guessed he looked different. The 80s sure passed and the 90s brought on a new generation of clothing, lack of colors, and all around sulking. Something Eamon thrived in.
Conor’s eyes looked over Eamon, almost surprised. He didn’t grow any taller, which meant he was now looking down on him instead of eye to eye. He trained in his baggy bright blue jean pants for a pair of tight black jeans with holes in them, and a short sleeve black T-shirt. His hair hag grown to shoulder length and hung messily around his face, framing it perfectly.
His eyes trailed to the amount of bags he had compared to him. Conor had one suitcase and a backpack - clearly, he had only been visiting. Eamon had four suitcases, two guitar cases, and a keyboard case, along with a backpack slung over one shoulder sloppily. On the chair next to him was a cage full of his three rabbits, moving around happily. Conor wondered how he was able to move all that stuff by himself, yet Eamon was a mystery. Always had been.
“Conor.”
He kept it short and simple. Conor couldn’t help but laugh. In the 5 years they’d been apart, Eamon hadn’t changed much. He was still dark and somewhat monotone. Stuck with one-word answers mostly.
“You haven’t checked your bags in?” Conor asked indicating to Eamon’s luggage. He just gave a faint shake of his head before checking the time on his watch. “Where are you headed?”
“America.”
“America?” Conor blinked. America, really?
Eamon missed Conor’s reaction, far more interested in his rabbits, sticking his fingers into the cage and stroking their soft fur slightly.
“Whatcha got business there for?” Conor finally asked, finding his voice.
“School.”
“School?”
“Yeah, remember those midterms I told you were important?”
“Oh.”
Eamon simply nodded, returning to his bunnies before adding, “They really are you know.”
“Yes. Of course.”
Conor looked around in silence. It was awkward, different, almost, between them. Eamon wasn’t necessary forthcoming with his emotions ever. Yet, Conor was having a particularly hard time knowing what Eamon was feeling right now.
There used to be a time where he could tell almost exactly what Eamon was feeling just by looking at him. Longing, joy, anger, depression, even if he was just tired. But this was different. This was closed off.
“What are you studying?”
“Music.”
Of course. Conor couldn’t hide his smile. Sure, Conor could write songs and sing moderately well, maybe even amazing on good days. But Eamon could play possibly every instrument known to man. And over half of the songs they wrote wouldn’t be possible without Eamon.
“Sounds promising. I think you’d quite like it in America.”
“Yeah”, Eamon said, finally turning from his bunnies to face Conor, “I’m going to NYU. Scholarship.”
“Full ride?”
“No, no, close though.”
Both nodded in their silence. Eamon seemed lost in thought before adding, “I’m not sure if I’ll ever be coming back. The tickets expensive.”
Oh, Conor thought finally realizing why things had been so awkward between them.
“Yeah, I suppose you’d get caught up in school too, Yeah?”
“Probably. I had to say goodbye to the Band. They helped me raise money for the ticket along with me ma. Hell even me Pa.”
“Your Pa out of Saints of gods?”
“He was,” he’s playing in Pubs again. Let me keep a few instruments when I played him the demos.”
“That’s good.”
Ramon nodded glancing down at his watch one last time before standing and starting to gather his things.
“I, uh,” Conor fumbled with his words, “I really did try to come back to get you guys.”
“You don’t have to lie,” Eamon said without hesitation. He caught Conor off guard, “you didn’t have to come back.”
“Yeah, but I promised too.”
“And you didn’t. Doesn’t matter much anymore anyway, does it?” Eamon asked looking up. His hands seemed full, yet Conor felt the anguish need to help him out.
“I suppose not... Let me-“
“I got it,” Eamon interrupted. And really, somehow he did. Conor shoves his hands on his pockets uncomfortably and Eamon walked towards baggage claim.
“Have fun wherever you're going,” Eamon said over his shoulder. Conor way he’s him disappear around the corner, wondering if they will be separated by another 5 years or Eamon was walking out of his life like Raphina has two years ago.