Chapter Text
1989 - Age 17
When Exer is seventeen, David finds out about Brenda. And his dad finds out that there is something going on — although he doesn’t entirely know what yet. And Jackson finds out about his magic. And then so does Pam.
He also blows up a car.
So Exer Campbell is doing really fucking awesome, thanks for asking.
He’s lost just about everything from football to his dad’s trust to his short-lived friendship with Jackson to his decade-long one with David.
He isn’t sure what he would do if he lost music, too.
Giving up his car for his dad isn’t really a bit deal — he doesn’t mind biking to school — but giving up mornings spent singing along to the radio with David feels like someone is carving him open.
Although, he supposes, he wouldn’t have that even with his car, seeing as David hates his guts now.
So when Exer is seventeen, he is really, really glad that he bought himself that replacement Walkman when he was fifteen. It’s nowhere near as nice as the one he gave to David when they were kids, but it has pretty comfortable orange foam ear pads and it plays music, so there’s not much more he could ask for at this point.
Unfortunately, said Walkman is currently sitting on the floor beneath the passenger seat of his car, accidentally left behind.
So Exer stands in the grocery store, feeling like he wants to be literally anywhere else while his dad compares the unit price between dry and canned chickpeas, and has absolutely nothing to help soothe his anxiety.
Dad had encouraged him to come — said it would be good for Exer to get out of the house — and Exer had begged his father to let him stay home. They had compromised by deciding Exer could bring his Walkman and keep his headphones on while they shopped.
As they had pulled into the parking lot, however, Exer thought he spotted Mr. Miller’s car and a flash of blonde in the passenger seat; and in the aftermath of that panic, he had completely forgotten the little portable cassette player.
“I’m really proud of you, Exer,” his dad had said with a smile as they walked in. “Sometimes it’s good to face your anxieties head on.”
Exer didn’t have the heart to tell him that he wanted more than anything to run in the other direction and hide himself in his music, so he had just flashed his dad a weak smile and trudged along.
The grocery store is overwhelming — lights too bright and shelves too colorful and people too loud.
The front left wheel of their cart is broken, skidding across the ground with an infuriating repetitive clang and making it impossible to push the cart in a straight line without difficulty.
Exer opens and closes his hands around the handle and tries his best to steady his breathing. The last thing he needs right now is for his magic to act up — not in front of Dad. Not again.
He closes his eyes and attempts to tune everything out other than the music playing over the grocery store’s speakers; and Exer finds that he actually recognizes the song. Always Something There to Remind Me by Naked Eyes. The melody is upbeat and fun, and the song was an instant hit upon its release — played repetitively by just about every radio station for weeks.
But here, in the middle of the grocery store, Exer realizes the lyrics of the song are actually quite… well… sad.
How can I forget you girl? When there is always something there to remind me.
For the past week or so since shit hit the fan with just about everyone he knows, Exer has been pretty exclusively listening to music that has absolutely no correlation to David (a difficult, but not impossible, feat). He has been trying his best to distance himself — to distract himself. It hasn’t worked, for obvious reasons, but Exer has had no other idea how to cope with losing his best friend.
I was born to love her, and I will never be free. You’ll always be a part of me.
Now, however, he has another idea.
Instead of trying to forget about what happened by listening to the few songs that don’t remind him of David, maybe he should lean the other way. Maybe he should oversaturate himself with everything DavidDavidDavidDavid, and grieve.
After all, David will never forgive him. So maybe it is time to grieve; time to mourn their relationship.
Maybe that way, Exer will have a sliver of a chance of moving on.
He never will — some part of him knows that — but if he’s going to spend the rest of forever in mourning, he might as well start now.
Exer doesn’t know much about the stages of grief, or if they always go in one particular order; but from what he does know, he thinks he has definitely skipped a few steps. He was never angry — well, not at anyone but himself. But never at David or at the universe or even at Jackson for making David suspicious in the first place. And he hasn’t really been in denial — aside from his humiliating attempt to pretend that they could enjoy the Halloween dance together like nothing happened.
Instead, Exer has leapt over the stages of grief pretty quickly, landing somewhere between depression and acceptance.
The four-and-a-halfth stage of grief.
Accepting that David is gone, and being depressed about it regardless.
They pass the aisle of the store containing cards for every occasion, and Exer wishes for a moment — in the most fucked up way — that he really was grieving. At least that way he wouldn’t have to see David. Wouldn’t have to know he’s out there, roaming the same town and the same hallways and talking to other people and making the conscious decision to live his life without Exer in it.
At least if David were also a ghost, Exer would have a chance at making contact with him. A chance at communicating with him somewhere in this purgatory.
But David is here. Alive and well and choosing to cut Exer from his life; and there’s nothing Exer can do to reach him.
This thought is wrong and gross and so beyond fucked up. And Exer doesn’t mean it — not at all — so he physically shakes his head in an attempt to erase the intrusive thought and the shame he feels for thinking it.
If anything, Exer wishes that he were the one who—
No. Not that either.
Exer doesn’t want to mourn David. Or himself. Just their relationship.
And, in a way, the person who used to be. The person he will never be again without David.
And the best way to grieve, Exer figures, the best way to honor their relationship, is to bring it full circle.
Over the years, he and David have shared everything — toys and clothes and books and food and secrets — but the one thing they shared most was music.
They’ve been to concerts together and they’ve sang songs while Exer played his guitar and they’ve made so many mixtapes for one another that Exer has an overflowing shoebox of them in his closet.
So that’s what Exer decides he will do. He’ll eulogize their friendship through music. He’ll make a mixtape that is so very David, and maybe that will help him grieve.
As they reach the register and Exer helps his dad load the groceries onto the conveyor belt, his thoughts continue to wander.
A tiny part of him wants to imagine that one day, things will get better; and he will be able to give the tape to David.
Or maybe things will never get better between them, and he will leave it in David’s locker as a final goodbye.
Exer finds that he can’t bring himself to think too hard about either possible future scenario, though, and tries to focus instead on the present — on what he can do today.
He’s pretty sure he has one blank C60 left in his desk drawer. He would’ve preferred a C90 — that’s ninety minutes of music — but a C60 will have to do. 30-ish minutes per side; but Exer knows from his ample experience that each side always holds just a little bit more than that.
First, he thinks while gently placing a carton of eggs down, I can go through Dad’s collection. Then mine.
“Paper or plastic?” The check out attendant asks.
“Paper,” Exer and his dad respond at the same time.
There are David’s mixes, of course. And maybe Pam will lend me some stuff from the store?
Anything else I’ll have to listen to the radio for.
“Got everything we need?” Dad asks after loading the last bag back into the cart and giving the cashier a quick 'thankyouhaveagoodday'.
“Yea, I think so,” Exer replies.
A-Side
Track 1
I Want to Know What Love Is - Foreigner
After… everything… Exer couldn’t bring himself to go to school. His dad had been plenty understanding, under the condition that Exer explained to him what was going on. And Exer had remembered how he used to like talking with his dad — being honest with him — so he tried his best to give him the abridged version of the truth.
Nothing about Jackson and definitely nothing about magic.
“I didn’t even realize you and Brenda had dated,” his dad noted when Exer was done.
“I know,” Exer had said; that was intentional, he hadn’t.
So Dad had granted Exer a ‘mental health break’ from school, and called him in sick every morning for a week straight.
“Some of your friends called today, asking how you were doing,” Dad had said when Exer sat down for dinner that Wednesday.
“Did—”
“No,” he replied quickly. “Just Brenda and Ronald. Do you want to talk about it?”
Today is only Wednesday, came a tiny voice in Exer’s brain, that’s Brenda’s day, anyway. He’ll call tomorrow.
It hasn’t worked like that in years, and Exer knew that; but he had wanted to cling to the hope, even for a moment.
“I—” Exer started, but his voice had cracked and his chin began to tremble. He looked up to the ceiling in an attempt to fight gravity — to keep the tears in his eyes from spilling out.
“Oh, kiddo,” his dad said softly, and got up from the table to come around and wrap himself around Exer.
“Dad—”
“It’s okay, Ex. It’s okay. It’ll be okay,” he soothed.
But Exer couldn’t respond yet, so he just let himself be held while he shook and sobbed. He was still trembling when he spoke again; and his voice sounded weird and distant, like it wasn’t his at all.
“He hates me, Dad. He hates me and he never wants to see me again.”
“I doubt thats true, Exer. He’s hurting. You lied and it was wrong and you’re sorry — I know you’re more sorry than anything — but David still got hurt. You have to give him time.”
Exer shook his head.
“You don’t know everything. And you didn’t see—” His voice caught on the lump in his throat.
“See what?”
“His face,” Exer had managed weakly. “You didn’t see his face. He’s never going to forgive me. I ruined everything. I always ruin everything.”
“Exer,” his dad had said, squeezing him tightly. “Don’t say that, it’s not true.”
I blew up your car, Exer thought, but he hadn’t said so.
“Yes it is,” he replied instead.
“Hey,” his father had said in a serious tone, pulling away to look at Exer’s face; but Exer wouldn’t meet his eyes. Couldn't. His dad held him firmly by the shoulders and tilted his head side to side, craning his neck to chase Exer’s eyes with his own. “Look— hey, hey. Please, Exer, will you look at me? That isn’t true. You have to believe that son, come on. You know that isn’t true, right?”
When their eyes finally locked, Exer noticed his dad had looked a little desperate, a little scared. And Exer really hadn’t wanted to be any more of a burden than he already was, so he tried his best at a smile — pulling his lips up and exposing his teeth in a way that he hoped looked believable.
“Yea, no, sorry. You’re right. Thanks, Dad,” he answered shakily.
“Exer,” his father said, concern and sadness lacing his voice. “If you tell me more about what happened, maybe—”
“I’m good, Dad, really. I’m okay. Let’s just eat?” His voice had wobbled at the end, and he gave his dad a pleading expression. “Please?”
Dad had exhaled and gave Exer one last distressed glance. Then, he noded his head and got up from where he squatted to make his way back to his seat, grabbing the bowl of raita from the center of the table on the way. They ate the rest of their meal in silence.
On that first day back at school (only a couple days ago, despite it feeling like a lifetime has passed), people had noticed Exer. They’d questioned where he’d been and told him they were glad he was back and asked him if he was okay. It made Exer feel way too exposed and claustrophobic. And in those moments, Exer hadn’t been able to help but wish he were thirteen again.
At least he was a ghost back then.
At least David would call.
So while Exer normally plans out his mixtapes on paper first — calculating the approximate time of each track and considering the importance of their order on the tape — he finds himself recording this first song without thinking about it. Because it’s a no-brainer, really, and everything else can work around it. This is their song.
Or it used to be, back when they were thirteen.
Track 2
Wouldn’t It Be Nice - The Beach Boys
Exer lays on his bed — pen and paper discarded by his side — tossing a football into the air and catching it.
He’s been stuck ever since his first song choice; because, in truth, more songs remind him of David than not. So how can he possibly narrow that down to sixty minutes? And how can he take his interesting, funny, complicated, beautiful, incredible best friend and condense his entire essence down into one mixtape?
What was he thinking? This is never going to work.
But he aches and he aches and he doesn’t want to feel like this anymore, even though he knows he deserves to.
He throws the football again, before being struck by one of those annoying green shocks that have become more and more frequent recently. He’s able to move in time, thankfully, not sure his nose could handle a third injury in less than two years, and the ball hits his shoulder and ricochets to the floor. It bounces in that odd, erratic way that footballs do, and ends up under his bed.
Exer groans and, feeling lazy, tries to reach for the ball without having to get out of bed. He stretches his arm and curves it around the side of the wooden frame, feeling around for the familiar texture of speckled leather.
His fingers graze what he assumes is the plastic white lacing, but when he leans a bit further to grab it, he ends up pushing the ball deeper under.
Exer resigns with a sigh and throws his legs over the side of the bed. He hoists himself up off his mattress and stands on solid ground, only to have to squat right after; ducking his head and scanning his eyes across the various items stored under his bed in an attempt to find the ball.
He finds, instead, his guitar case.
Exer grabs the handle and pulls the case out, wiping off some dust when he does. It shouldn’t be dusty — he just used his guitar to audition for the musical a couple months ago — but Exer, admittedly, is not the best at vacuuming his room. And under his bed is all but neglected when it comes to keeping a clean space.
He opens the four latches and pulls the instrument out. Leaving the semi-dirty case on the floor, he moves to sit on the edge of his bed with his guitar.
He finds himself absentmindedly placing the capo on the fifth fret and lazily strumming.
Playing the guitar hasn’t come super naturally to him. Even after years, he can only really learn songs with the sheet music and a good bit of effort. He can’t simply hear a melody, recognize the notes, and play it back the way he has learned that other people can.
Maybe that’s something he’ll be able to do eventually. Or maybe that’s something that some people are just born with.
Either way, he can't do it yet.
So he plucks this familiar tune often; a mindless habit when he can’t think of anything else to play.
Oh, duh.
He picks up the pen and scribbles the song title next to the number two on the paper labeled ‘Day Mix: Possible Songs’.
Then, he considers crossing it out immediately.
At twelve, he had obviously understood the lyrics, he wasn’t that dumb. But now, at nearly eighteen, he understands there is a deeper implication to the song.
Maybe it is weird for Wouldn’t It Be Nice to make the list; but it’s the first in a long line of songs that he learned for Day — so it makes sense in that way, he supposes.
He puts the pen down.
Part of him does want to revel in the idea of him and David being older; sharing a dorm room or an apartment. How uncomplicated things could be if they were nineteen or twenty and out of high school — out of this town — and more free to be themselves.
Whatever that would mean and however that would manifest, he’s not sure (and not sure he’s willing or able to explore the thought right now, either); all he knows is that possible future looks pretty bright to him.
And maybe that would’ve been their future at some point, or at least some variation of it, but not anymore.
Track 3
More Than A Feeling - Boston
More Than A Feeling is Exer’s first semi-questionable choice, and it only makes the list because of his (very loose) interpretation of the lyrics.
Exer is flipping through his Dad’s vinyls when he comes across Boston’s self titled album from 1976. It’s a short album, not even forty minutes, and he’s heard it enough times that he’s semi-familiar with most of the songs on it. Track one, however, and all its lines about the sun and the day and music and loss, are suddenly resonating very heavily with Exer.
So he is going to choose to interpret those lines in his own way — with Day as a proper noun — because it's his mixtape and that’s what he wants to do.
He continues flipping through his dad’s collection of records, and his hand stutters.
Here, in the section of records Exer is fairly certain are meant to be associated with his mother, he stumbles upon the two 45s. They’re the same song — the first They Long To Be Close To You by Richard Chamberlain, and the second (They Long to Be) Close To You by The Carpenters.
Exer’s dad isn’t home, and probably won’t be for a while — he had some other errands to run, but was gracious enough to drop a very exhausted Exer home after the grocery store before heading back out. Still, Exer anxiously glances at the driveway through the window as he pulls the much shorter Richard Chamberlain version from its sleeve.
It’s not that his father would be bothered by Exer listening to this song — Dad plays it often.
On anniversaries and her birthday. On Exer’s birthday and any other time she comes to mind. It reminds them both of her, in a very positive way. And Exer’s dad loves the song enough that he owns both versions of it.
It wouldn’t be weird to listen to it. It’s just that Exer is a little bit embarrassed that he’s always kind of connected the song to David.
Not because of what the song is about, or whatever, it’s just that the description in the song is just — that’s not how she looked!
He grabs the plastic adaptor from where it’s stored next to the record player, attaching the oddly shaped piece through the hole of the small record and placing it onto the spindle of the record player.
Music fills the house, and Exer’s eyes fall closed as he allows himself to reflect on the lyrics.
Okay, so maybe he does long to be close to David. He does, he does, he really, really does.
Maybe it’s not in the way the song is describing — or maybe it is — but it doesn’t really matter at this point anyway, because he'll never have either.
On the day that you were born, the angels got together and decided to create a dream come true.
So they sprinkled moon dust in your hair of gold, and starlight in your eyes of blue.
That is why all the boys in town follow you all around.
Just like me, they long to be close to you.
As the song comes to a close, Exer opens his eyes sheepishly.
Maybe this song doesn’t have that much to do with David, at all. Maybe it’s only coming up because this is the first time Exer has dealt with grief in a very, very long time. Long enough that he barely remembers it at all, which always fills him up with sorrow and dread and so much guilt.
He removes the single from the player and unsnaps the adaptor. He slips the 45 into its sleeve, and puts it back where he found it; before moving to a different part of the shelf (one not associated with her), and continuing to thumb through the rest of the records.
Track 4
Mr. Blue Sky - Electric Light Orchestra
When he skims the track list on the back cover of an Electric Light Orchestra album, Out of the Blue, Exer considers a few songs that would make sense to add to his mixtape, like Turn to Stone or Sweet is the Night. But the final track on the third side of the album is one of David’s favorites, ever since they discovered it at ten years old while making their way through the entirety of Exer’s dad’s vinyl collection.
And Exer can’t help but make that same association again. Day.
He pictures the lake and a freshly awoken Day, with his blue eyes blinking rapidly and squinting to adjust to the light and his blonde baby hairs sticking up in every direction. He pictures the day itself, with its clear blue sky and the brilliant sun shining down on them.
So he pulls the pen and folded up sheet of paper from his pocket and jots down Mr. Blue Sky, before placing the album back in its seemingly random spot amongst the others — all generally from that same time period, but with a few outliers.
“Putting the albums in alphabetical order would make them so much easier to sort through,” Exer had complained once.
“Maybe for you,” his dad had said. “But chronological order makes more sense to me. The way I feel about music — the way I experience it — is sorta, uh, complicated? Different songs and albums are associated with different times in my life. My childhood, losing my dad, college and graduate school, meeting your mother, your childhood; each period of my life has its own sort of soundtrack, in a way. It’s weird, but that’s how things make sense for me. And the music holds more meaning like that, you know?”
“Yea,” Exer had said, but he really hadn’t gotten it then.
Now, putting together this mixtape — this musical elegy — his dad’s words couldn't be clearer.
The past two songs on his mixtape don’t really make much sense; and flipping through record after record has made Exer’s brain turn to mush — making connections between David and random songs that are becoming more and more abstract. Exer needs to think hard in order to get back on track. He needs to dig more into the past.
He makes his way up the stairs and into his room, swinging his closet door open and reaching for the old shoebox on the top shelf without hesitation. He sits on the floor, leaning his back against the side of his bed and placing the box down between his legs.
In theory, any of the songs on any of these cassettes could work, seeing as David is the creator of each tape, but Exer wants the next track to be symbolic. To bookmark a chapter in his and David’s friendship in the same the way his father’s records do for his life.
And the chapter he’s thinking of is that of the beginning of their most cherished and prolific tradition — making mixtapes for one another.
Exer is fairly certain he knows what the first song on that first tape was, but he wants to check anyway. Or maybe he just wants to read David’s handwriting and imagine a time when the painstaking effort it took to make a mixtape was such an easy gesture of affection between them.
So he grabs the leftmost plastic container and flips it over to the back, where he knows a paper J-card sits inside the case, containing a track list neatly written in David’s handwriting, along with little stars and hearts doodled along the margins.
Exer fights to read the title David had given the mixtape through his blurry vision.
‘DAY EX: FIRST (AND BEST) CONCERT EVER MIXTAPE!!!!!!’
He laughs and the tears fall, splashing on the plastic casing. He wipes the wetness away with his thumb.
And there it is, just beneath his thumb. The first song of hundreds they would go on to share with one another.
Track 5
I Wanna Dance With Somebody - Whitney Houston
Exer cries on the floor of his bedroom. He can taste the snot dripping into his open mouth as he practically wails, loud and messy and wretched.
Because when David had asked about the concert, Exer had given him a difficult time. He had the opportunity to spend time with David — the one thing he wants now more than anything in this world — and he had nearly refused.
He had refused, actually.
Once. Maybe even twice. He can’t remember now. But he knows he had complained.
He had complained and mocked and refused such a simple ask — something that ended up bringing David so much joy.
Exer can picture David on that warm summer night very clearly. The way he danced and sang and laughed. The way he chatted nonstop the entire car ride home. That night had been the first time he had seen David so carefree and happy (and goofy; what a major dweeb) in a long time. And they almost hadn’t gone, because Exer had said no.
He lets out a pitiful sob.
And then he made David bargain for it. Forced David into an ultimatum by using his presence at the Whitney concert as leverage to get something he wanted. And David had been scared to go to the hard rock concert. He was scared and Exer had selfishly pushed him anyway.
No.
Exer forces himself to dial the guilty thoughts back. The deal they made was okay. David had a lot of fun at the Gun N’ Roses concert, and their compromise was what led to them trading mixtapes in the first place. The tradition that quickly became one of their favorites; as did a lot of the songs they were introduced to because of it.
Exer can’t let himself look back at his relationship with David like this. Like, uh, whatever the opposite of rose-colored glasses is.
David had a great time, and Exer was only teasing, anyway. Because Exer knows he would’ve ended up going to the Whitney concert no matter what. David had asked him to, and that was enough. That was always enough.
Both concerts were fun; and the way they compromised, met each other half way, spoke to their friendship. How willing each of them was to do or try new things for the other. They always remained open-minded for one another. And, more often than not, they ended up enjoying whatever the other one showed them. Their first and second concert experiences were no exception to this.
So in the same way that somehow making himself the victim in all of this mess would obviously be wrong, Exer making himself some sort of villain would also be a disservice. Because the truth is, he is — was David’s best friend.
David loved him. And Exer hurt him.
And pretending in some fucked up way that he had never deserved David to begin with — that David is completely better off without him — that only downplays the pain that David must be feeling.
And Exer knows David is hurting; probably just as much as Exer is. Probably more.
And it’s Exer’s fault.
Pretending their relationship was always rotten isn’t fair to David. Exer won’t do that.
This is David's loss, too, and Exer is going to honor that.
Track 6
Head Over Heels - Tears For Fears
The thought that pops into Exer’s head after that is that the next seemingly obvious choice for the mixtape would be Everybody Wants to Rule the World.
It was the song they chose for karaoke, which was definitely a special moment in their relationship.
Also, in a way, the start of the end.
Exer had already been lying about Brenda for quite some time at that point, but he had always meant to tell David eventually — at the award ceremony the night before their karaoke escapade, he almost had. But after everything went down with Pam and Brenda, Exer had kind of decided he wasn’t going to tell David.
He justified it by saying he couldn’t, for some reason he doesn’t even remember now, but it was only an excuse.
Honestly, Exer had just been scared he would lose his best friend if he told him the truth; and now he has lost him because he didn’t.
That day — ‘Cheer Up Exer Campbell Day’, as David had so aptly named it — was full of complicated emotions.
A lot of which aren’t even worth unpacking at this point, all things considered.
But the predominant feeling Exer had felt that night was something akin to euphoria. He remembers that he was practically buzzing by the end of the night; excited and dopey and laughing to the point of tears with David at their little private table toward the back of the bar.
It really did cheer him up; David knows him so well. (Knew him? Past tense? No, David still knows him. Better than anyone.)
So Exer should write Everybody Wants to Rule the World on the sixth line of his sheet of paper, right?
He fiddles with the pen’s cap a bit, feeling fidgety and nervous.
Exer imagines himself on that stage — arm thrown comfortably around David’s shoulder despite the couple inches David had on him. He remembers how he had messed with the radio after, just to hear the song play again.
‘Our song’, David had called it.
And, in that moment, Exer thinks a tiny part of him might have that realized he was—
He hesitates.
Because despite what Exer had decided not twenty minutes ago about letting significant songs bookmark chapters of his and David’s friendship, in the end this is about grieving, not being historically accurate.
Grief doesn’t always make sense — isn’t supposed to.
Dad would probably say something about Exer letting his feelings show up however they want to, without judgement.
So Exer uncaps his pen and writes Head Over Heels, instead.
Track 7
Just Like Heaven - The Cure
Whatever. It's not weird.
Exer can make Just Like Heaven his bookmark song from that night they sang karaoke, in place of the Tears For Fears song.
Because Exer had so badly wanted to see David sing this one, too. The image of David jumping up and down (the way he always dances to The Cure, uncoordinated and uncaring like a little kid), makes Exer’s chest feel tight and his eyes burn hot.
If — by some miracle — David ever forgives him, Exer is going to convince him to go back and perform this one.
Next time, he thinks, and ignores the burning.
Exer doesn't bother to write the title down. Instead, he grabs his watch and each of the tapes he needs and makes his way downstairs.
He has some math to do.