Chapter Text
Kicking her feet and doodling in her journal, Janis is suddenly thirteen again with her first crush, scrawling “Eva ‘Imi’ike” and “Janis Tejada” in her notebook with hearts all around the names. Instead, she’s writing shitty refrains about being in love in her notebook and humming to herself, songs that won’t be anything more than bad lyrics in one of her many leather-bound journals. Regina’s final event of the Downfall tour officially is what she’s calling “Rock Bottom,” and it’s technically a gala, but that doesn’t mean anything to Janis. She’s had an outfit planned for this event for as long as she’s known about it.
Cady’s the only one who can’t fly out to London for the gala since she’s in class, but Damian makes it out, along with Karen and Gretchen. Janis doesn’t know Karen and Gretchen very well, but they’re nice. Gretchen is an influencer podcaster and Janis has no respect for the influencer type. To be fair to Gretchen, she does ask interesting questions about whatever her interviewee does, having asked Regina about her motivations for each song, even digging into Fall Back (Relapse). Janis loves Karen. She’s refreshingly vapid but knows everything there is to know about colours, fabrics, and cuts of any article of clothing. Janis discovered a new favourite game when she was being styled by Karen for the tour: engaging in a genuinely mindless and confusing-to-any-outsider conversation where they both just say words that mean absolutely nothing.
The first thing Damian does when he sees Janis in the hotel lobby is reach out to pretend to strangle Janis.
“You fucking bitch, you didn’t tell me shit about you and Regina! I thought we were besties for the resties!”
“I mean, we are. But also, you think I’m going to spend my precious money on an international call?”
“Girl, get your new sugar mommy to pay for your calls. I mean, she called Kylie from Germany. And don’t tell me she wouldn’t willingly pay for a single call, she’s rich enough to afford it.”
“Don’t call her that,” Janis whines, shoving Damian away. “I’m not gonna ask her to pay for my stuff.”
Regina did shell out and got Damian his own room in one of the bougie hotels in the city, but Janis doesn’t want to ask her to pay for something as small as an international phone call, mostly because it’s not a necessity.
Returning to the room she and Regina are sharing (something something U-hauling lesbians joke, Janis is a little too tired to properly think of one), the journal is open on the bed and Regina is flipping through it.
“Oh, fuck.”
“Hey, Jay. Nice songs you got in here,” Regina says through well-suppressed laughter.
“Leave me alone, bitch, I’m just having fun.”
Regina arches an eyebrow, staring Janis down until she cracks. Exposure therapy works occasionally, and Janis stays in the standoff until Regina rolls her eyes and says “they’re really bad, and coming from me, that’s really saying something.”
“Gotta write shit so you don’t burn out focusing on only creating the perfect song.”
“You do not deserve to have any wisdom.”
There’s a studio in London that’s about as generic as it possibly could be, but the equipment is higher quality than anything Janis owns. Taking a moment to familiarise herself with the buttons (they’re never all that different from each other, but the placement can be different depending on the maker), they’re only in the studio to lay down the vocal track.
This is the first proper test of their working relationship, since Janis is neurotic in the studio and Regina has developed her own bits of insanity since she’s re-developed her love for the game. Surprisingly, it only takes a couple takes to meet both Regina and Janis’s requirements. Regina doesn’t cry, but she gets damn close enough that Janis only sort of begs her to be okay with the wobble in her voice and the sniffle at the end. It’s going to be a heartbreaking song on album three.
Occasionally, Janis dreams about focusing on Grief Counsellors, or a two piece band composed of herself and Regina under a different name. She dreams of writing beautiful songs that build albums that tell stories—both real and fantasy—with Regina, a more equal balance of contribution between them. When she’s in control of her own brain, Janis prefers having a separation between her own art and Regina’s. Their methods of storytelling and the stories they tell require different deliveries.
A grand piano lives in the studio, but Janis doesn’t record the instrumental yet. Even though they’ve technically leaked it, there’s still time for Janis to tweak it, and it somehow doesn’t sit right after playing it live. It’s hard to make out the colours with the memory of the blue stage lights, but she remembers that it was wrong. Carrying the sentiment makes her shoulders ache.
Despite the great mood that the gala, the vocal track, and seeing Damian again brings, Janis allows the apathy to wash over her. She always has moments of wallowing in a funk, and Janis has learned to let the tides rise and recede without interfering. Years of therapy have taught her that no one but her is responsible for her mental well-being, and unfortunately her coping mechanism requires a little walk and maybe a bit of money. Janis bundles up to brave the late winter chill in London and starts out on her quest for emotional regulation. It’s drizzling and Janis isn’t wearing a rain coat, but she quite likes the rain. Hopefully it’ll wash away the apathy. Regina’s going to kill her if she catches a cold from her wet clothes.
The destination is on the right, so Janis pushes the pull door and wipes her feet on the mat so as to not drip water everywhere.
Her fingers are freezing by the time she returns to the hotel, her shoulders and hood not yet soaked. Regina’s talking to the receptionist, and turns when the door shuts heavily, a gust of frigid air blowing past her.
“Hey, Jay.”
“Hey,” Janis mumbles, welcoming the way that Regina carefully wraps an arm around her waist.
Only sort of listening to the conversation, Janis slowly taps out a beat in her hoodie pocket until it feels right. Grabbing one of the pads of paper and pens off the desk, Janis draws the ugliest treble clef in her life and attempts to recall a melody she wrote to go with one of her questionable-at-best love songs. Being a pop star would be too much for little Janis ‘Imi’ike who lives amongst scraps of paper that help tell her story. Don't put her on a stage in an uncomfortable outfit and expect a performance because Janis isn't a pop star; she’ll wait in the wings while her pop star girlfriend does her thing, writing songs inspired by her, for her.
Karen technically isn’t working today, but that won’t stop her from doing people’s glam and helping them style the outfits they already have. She whirls into Janis and Regina’s hotel room, offers help with makeup to Janis, and disappears into the bathroom where Regina’s getting ready in the same breath. Janis doesn’t need help for her relatively simple look, and even if it were more complicated, makeup is an art that Janis perfected during high school.
Regina hasn’t told Janis a single word about her outfit, and Janis can only assume that it’s going to be devastating. To prepare for Regina inevitably weaponising the look, Janis takes mirror selfies in dim hotel lighting in various states of undress and one while she’s almost wearing her full outfit, just the sleeves rolled up in a way she knows Regina is addicted to.
Janis tucks her white button up into her brown corduroy pants and is buckling the recently oiled leather belt when Karen bolts out of the hotel room, yelling something about how good Janis looks and that she has to go do Gretchen’s makeup. She’s picking up her sport coat when Regina emerges from the bathroom in a leather jacket—Janis’s vintage leather jacket—open over a sheer top and black bralette that hardly covers anything, and a short skirt that is barely visible under the jacket. A very clear statement is being made here, and of course Janis is overcome with a very possessive need to make it known that Regina is hers. A statement is also being made about Regina and her party girl past (and potentially future), which is going to be a crazy contrast to Janis who is kind of dressed like an old man (the outfit is very reminiscent of her grandpa—the Japanese one, her mom’s dad—who was the same height as Janis currently is, it just has a weirdly shaped tie and the pants are a little more trendy).
Janis isn't a fan of a red carpet, but Regina loves a photo op, so Janis acquiesces and stays by her side the whole time, offering more of a grimace than a convincing fake smile to the cameras. It would be the perfect opportunity to do something rash like kiss Janis, but Regina refrains, mostly because there’s plenty of time for that once they’re inside. In an effort to get at least one good photo of her and Janis both actually smiling, Regina catches her eye and cheeses, mocking Janis and her stupid face. They’ve mastered the art of silent communication by now, and Janis raises an eyebrow, a small, amused grin on her face. Since she’s not getting a real reaction, Regina rolls her eyes as hard as she possibly can, and that’s what gets Janis. Her face splits into a real smile, no doubt thinking something about how Regina’s face is going to get stuck like that if she keeps rolling her eyes as often as she does. She’s unable to help the way her smile also grows into an unmanageable not camera perfect smile as she looks at Janis. If they’re lucky, and they have been recently, at least one of the photographers will have caught the moment, and love will be printed in both their eyes.
Regina hired an event photographer for the actual gala, and gave him clear instructions to get pictures of all the attendees. They’ll only be sent out to the party attendees, so if Regina decides to make out with her super hot, suddenly stylish girlfriend, then so be it, and hopefully none of her party guests run secret fan accounts.
As soon as they’re off the red carpet, Janis is complaining. Mostly about how photographers don’t care about human decency, but also about how much she hates being photographed. She's good at sitting there and looking pretty, and that’s all a photographer needs. The first thing that Regina does when they’re inside is thank Janis for being so patient on the red carpet. And then she kisses Janis, just an easy peck so she doesn't ruin her lipstick. Janis is not a fan of that development. If it were up to Janis, she’d mess up Regina’s lipstick and then touch it up for her (she would not fix her own for the aesthetic).
It takes a while for Janis to warm up to the party, but once she’s loosened up with her one beverage of the night, Janis is having a great time. Regina follows Janis around even though it’s her event, comfortable with letting Janis take the lead. There’s a karaoke stage that apparently both of them are trying to avoid, but Damian is not going to let that fly. He is herding them closer to the stage with every opportunity he can. Regina really doesn’t want to, and she has no idea why she even put it there.
Somehow Damian annoys Janis into signing up for karaoke, and she’s the only person who has even signed up, which puts so much pressure on Janis. She’ll exceed expectations, it’ll be fine. Knowing Janis, she’s going to choose some stupid song that no one else knows but she’s going to knock everyone’s socks off.
Janis takes a while to set up, undoubtedly choosing something that no one’s ever heard. Regina sits at the very front table with Gretchen and Karen, waiting for her girlfriend to finish clicking around in the laptop.
As soon as Damian receives a reluctant thumbs up from Janis, he takes the DJ’s mic and unnecessarily shouts “Janis ‘Imi’ike is going to sing and if you’re not listening, you’re disrespecting Regina!”
With that, the track starts, and Janis hits one of her switches for a voice modulator and starts with some snark. If Regina remembers correctly, this is one of those emo hyperpop tracks that Janis has one too many shirts of that Regina loves to steal.
Janis so clearly doesn’t know what to do with her hands if she doesn’t have an instrument in them. Is this what she looks like in the studio? Or does she record the vocals and lead guitar at the same time? Janis the overachiever definitely does that because she has no idea what to do with her hands. She waves them around in a way that does not line up with the lyrics, though she’s not enunciating very clearly so Regina has no idea what she’s saying. Her feet won’t stop moving, her hands won’t stop flying, she won’t open her eyes.
Weirdly, she sings “why you wanna link, I’d rather finger fuck strings, and I don’t know how to be your lust king,” very clearly, still waving her hands around, the light glinting off the gold band on her middle finger. She’s a chaotic sort of confident behind the mic, her sleeves rolled up to show off a new tattoo on her forearm: three koi fish swimming from her elbow to her wrist. She’s too pretty and too good at singing, it’s only a little absurd.
True to the party girl reputation, Regina hits the dance floor with Janis after two mixed drinks, her alcohol tolerance practically non-existent after not drinking since before the American tour. Whatever is in the mixed drinks is also a little stronger than what Regina wanted, but she doesn’t mind the slight buzz. It’s different from morphine, and she doesn’t like being drunk, so the addictive personality doesn't take hold of her. She doesn’t release Janis’s hand while dancing, perhaps being just as performative as she was on stage, but this time Janis sways and grinds right along with her.
Regina’s not very careful. There’s an event photographer, but that doesn’t stop Regina from shoving her tongue down Janis’s throat. It’s Regina's event, she can do whatever she wants; all photos go through her before any other attendees, anyway, so she’ll keep her probably borderline pornographic photos to herself and Janis. Regina will gladly take advantage of the club atmosphere, the pounding bass thrumming in her chest, and a room full of her closest friends to shower Janis with affection, as a thank you for everything, both on the tour and through the revitalisation of her career.
This is not a farewell, though. This is a celebration of Regina cheating death—twice if you think about it. A celebration of living on after the bus, a celebration of getting her career back, and, most importantly, a celebration of rediscovering the love of music that first inspired her to get on Hot Mic and become Regina George.
In her crusade to support local businesses, Cady drags Janis to a tiny diner on a very sketchy side street in Ventura County at 10:15, which means Janis has to drag her jet lagged body out of bed and up the 101 at 9 in the morning, two days after she returns to the horrible city of Los Angeles. Since Damian is allergic to driving in LA, he tasks Janis “one too many parking violations and at least two speeding tickets in the past two years (she lost count) but at least no felony charges on her driving record” ‘Imi’ike with driving, even though he has announced his absolute lack of confidence in Janis’s driving ability (she hasn’t caused any crashes since she was 19, he needs to have faith in her).
Coffee makes Janis jittery and nervous—not that energy drinks are any different, but at least they don’t taste like dirty, bitter bean water—so she orders a diet coke with her omelette and thanks the waitress who brings her glass and a pot of coffee to fill Cady and Damian’s mugs. It’s been a weirdly long time since Janis has seen Cady, despite the fact that they live together. Janis is still sort of running on London time, so she’s been hiding in her room and trying to reset her brain to LA time.
Cady demands stories about Europe, so Janis regales her with stories of cute dates (Regina organises most of them), travel days filled with writing, a limited amount of romance when you’re in a confined space and losing your mind, and breaking the tour bus rules. Janis is a storyteller by trade, and if she embellishes her oral history, then so be it. No one is going to fact check her.
And then Janis casts the curse of FOMO on Cady and details Rock Bottom, with Damian occasionally helping her make Cady feel left out (he even acts out Janis’s karaoke performance, jittery hand movements included). Cady grows more and more distressed as Janis just keeps on making her feel worse. It’s her bed, now she’s got to lie in it.
“It would have been better if you were there,” Janis offers lazily, as a peace offering. She’s manspreading in a vinyl diner chair, leaned back, sipping her soda, plate clean after that really good omelette.
Cady scowls, stuffing more French toast that she somehow still hasn’t finished into her mouth. Damian’s shoulders shake with silent laughter, covering his face with his hands and probably about ten seconds from falling out of his chair. Janis is an angel and just smiles at her best friend.
“Screw you. You could have convinced Regina to host on a school holiday. I know you have sway over Regina’s decisions.”
“Consumption, you really think Regina’s going to listen to me about a party? She knows that I don’t socialise outside my social circle.” Janis slowly spins her finger, emphasising that her whole social circle is sat at a table in a tiny restaurant that’s only open for breakfast and lunch in a town over from where the rich people who work in Hollywood live.
“You could have put her in sex jail! You could have fucked her until she agreed!” Cady wails, ten decibels too loud in a very public space. Cady, professional educator, is hollering about sex in a respectable restaurant that it is very possible that her students could be in. Cady “would never ever ever ever curse ever for any reason even if it were incredibly appropriate” Heron is hollering “fucked” in a public space.
This is the first and only time Cady has ever been kicked out of a public space.
A script tattoo is a good first tattoo. Janis’s first was a script tattoo, on her upper back near her left shoulder, reading “be not a cancer on the earth; leave room for nature,” a quote from the George Guidestones, one of the most intriguing pieces of art to a high school Janis who thought she was fully enlightened after reading about the mysterious installation once. Regina traced it once, in a Dutch hotel room, a featherlight touch on Janis’s back that she dreams about sometimes.
Who cares if the fans think getting her own lyrics tattooed is cringe, it’s a good first tattoo. It’s a sentiment she carries with her, ever since that day when it felt like she was drowning in her bed, unable to even attempt to struggle against the currents. Some fans might say it’s a bad decision to get her girlfriend’s handwriting permanently inked on her arm. The only regret Regina could possibly have about this is Janis’s ugly handwriting, but Janis really tried with the stencil and it’s legible.
Fun fact: Regina doesn't like needles. An unfortunate side effect of having surgery at 19 to fix an absolutely decimated spine from getting in a bus accident, really (fortunate side effect of having spinal surgery because of said bus crash is she got her scoliosis somewhat fixed, not that it desperately needed to be). You’d think that having surgery would make you better with needles, but Regina is the worst at receiving vaccines and Kylie makes fun of her for crying when she got her flu shot last year (and the year before that, and the year before that, and every year since Kylie was conscious, basically).
The inside of her arm is also a good place to get a first tattoo, with just enough bicep from having to be fit enough to run around and perform on stage for two hours to not be too painful (according to Janis). Janis also says the inside of her elbow is a good placement for a first tattoo, unless she never wants anyone to ever see it, including herself.
Laying on the table, Regina is more scared than before her spinal surgery (that was because she was high on painkillers but now she’s stone cold sober and if she glances down, she will see the very scary needle that’s stabbing her repeatedly in the arm). Janis is such a good girlfriend who has many tattoos and isn’t judgemental about Regina being such a scaredy cat.
Getting a matching tattoo with her girlfriend could also be a bad decision—one that the so-called fans that hate Janis will flaunt in her face in the very unlikely event that Regina and Janis break up. Janis’s is on her thigh, and wow, Regina’s never considered thigh tattoos hot until she sees Janis in jorts that cut off right above her new ink and she wants to put her mouth on it.
Janis’s studio hasn’t changed. Laundry is still strewn across her bedroom, less than last time Regina was in the apartment (she’ll toss herself out of her penthouse before Cady Heron, her little sister’s math teacher, hears Janis fuck her). The mic in the corner is a second home to Regina at this point, and it’s entirely unsurprising that she’s found herself here again.
“Ready, George?”
“As I’ll ever be.”
The opening notes of the second single of her self titled album play in her ears, an exhale forcing its way out of her lungs before Regina starts singing the future white girl song of the year.