Lullaby for a Muse

Razor doesn't know how he ended up where he is. With his musical ability, that charm, the hair, he has no clue why he's working at a dive called the Pizza Shack and hopelessly devoted to a girl who's in love with his best friend. Razor has grown up with his mother constantly telling him that he's leading man material and yet he finds himself in the dreaded role of the sidekick. Hell, even Carter Anderson – no musical ability, no charm, bad hair – has a girlfriend.

He can hear them now, arguing in the main dining room of the Pizza Shack. She's slinging accusations and he's yelling that she's overreacting and all Razor wants to do is finish cleaning up so he can go home. Why did he have to get stuck with the closing shift with Carter of all people? Just another reason why Razor is the least bit satisfied with his life.

"Yo man! Any day now!" Razor yells.

"Give me a sec!" Carter shouts back.

Razor groans irritably. He's sitting on the counter in the kitchen, swinging his legs to and fro. There are pizza pans piled high in the sink, ovens that need to be scrubbed to perfection and toppings smashed into the floor. Razor could start without Carter, but he will be damned if he ends up doing all the cleaning and Carter gets away with doing shit. Razor intends to wait even if it does take all night. It isn't like he has anywhere to be.

Looking through the inbox of his cell phone, Razor sees a missed call and a new text message. No, neither is from a smoking hot girl or even Emily Kmetko, but from Jeff, the manager. Excited at the thought of a drunken text – Jeff is good for those – Razor opens it and finds something even better.

Sry u workin' bro. Left you sumin'. The ushh.

Razor's mood brightens slightly. At least now he has something to do.

Razor jumps off the counter and makes his way back into the staff locker room, leaving behind the sounds of Carter and his girl going at it in their screaming match. He goes over to the third locker from the left and spins the dial. He pops the medal door and laughs. The smell of marijuana is so poignant. Oh, if only the people of Boulder knew whom exactly made their pizzas.

Damn. Razor is sure he'd be rolling in a pile of cash if he had a dollar for every time a customer complained about finding a pub in their pizza and Jeff having to go out, show them Carter's head, make him apologize for forgetting to wear a hairnet and comp some pies.

Razor carefully peels back the tape keeping up the Hilary Duff poster and behind it in a plastic bag holding a perfectly rolled joint. He frowns a bit despite its craftsmanship. He really doesn't understand why Jeff prefers to smoke this way. So much of it gets burnt up unnecessarily. Then again, the last thing he wants to be is completely baked and need to figure out a way to get home.

Running with the cards he's been dealt, Razor takes it, smoothes the tape back to the door of the locker and slams it shut. It isn't too hard to find a lighter and he takes it out back.

It isn't that Razor would consider himself a pothead. He doesn't need to light up or else he thinks he's going to die. Smoking pot is more of a recreational activity provoked by boredom. After all, he lives in Boulder, Colorado. Majority of the population is made up of college kids and hippies. What else are you supposed to do when you have no life and live out in the middle of nowhere?

Razor takes a moment to text back a thanks bro before he lights up one end of the joint and inhales with his stomach, holding it in for a few seconds before he exhales. He sparks up the end again and takes another drag, walking around the side of the Pizza Shack and kicking at the gravel. This is what his life has become and it's pathetic.

Sometimes Razor finds himself questioning why Damon got it all. The record deal. The girl. Escaping Boulder. Razor's supposed to be the front man and he met Emily first. It doesn't hurt that Damon's family is rolling in cash while Razor barely makes rent and his cable was shut off two, maybe three weeks ago. Sometimes it all seems a little bit unfair.

The more he thinks this way, the more he smokes and the easier it is to relax and forget.

He flicks the bud aside and breathes his last cloud of smoke up into the air. Soon he's wearing a goofy, relaxed smile and he's sure the white of his eyes are filled with little red lines. He likes the sensation that comes along with being high. The freedom. The invincibility. The escape.

Razor extends his arms and walks along the bricks that surround the plants that line the side of the Pizza Shack, imagining he's walking a tightrope in a traveling circus. He looks into the window of the Pizza Shack and sees Carter still fighting with his girlfriend and the very sight of her nearly knocks the wind out of him.

He's certain he's seen her before.

Then it hits him. She's the girl that invited him to prom.

She looks absolutely livid, arms thrown in the air to emphasize whatever point she's making. If he were in his right mind, he would probably be wondering how why such a pretty girl would willingly date Carter Anderson, someone who obviously isn't making her very happy. However, Razor is super high right now so all he can think about it how her hair is so blonde, like a gold brick, and how desperate he is to thread his fingers through it.

When he sees her start to make her way towards the door, Razor walks around the side of the building to the front entrance. He doesn't know why or what he would even say to her and he doesn't get a chance to. His long, gangly legs get tangled up somehow and he tumbles forward, falling flat on the pavement. He groans and then rolls over onto his back, laughing.

"Are you okay?" the blonde asks.

His mind races for a reply, but his mouth just keeps laughing.

The blonde just gives a miserable laugh and puts her hand on her hip. "Wow. Pizza Boy is so stoned."

"I'm not stoned," Razor says between laughs. He manages to sit up and rubs at his eyes with his hands. "Just a little high. Not that big of a deal."

She doesn't respond and Razor can't help, but stare at her. She looks like an angel complete with a golden halo.

"I'm Razor, by the way," he says in a low, lazy voice. "We went to prom together. Well, not together. I was in the band. Wore a tuxedo shirt and everything."

"Right," she replies. "I'm Lauren. Lauren Tanner."

"Right…Carter's girlfriend….?"

"Something like that," she laughs again, sounding so sad. She crosses her arms over her chest and her eyes stare out into the distance. "He's a complete asshole sometimes."

"No kidding," Razor says. "He always comes to work late. He never cleans his workstation. He's always always complaining about his gir—g—giant…yeah, and he smells like sweaty socks. Emily doesn't even smell like sweaty socks and something tells me she trains twice as hard as he does…no offense."

Lauren laughs. This time it sounds like an actual, genuine laugh. He finds himself excited by such a high giggly sound.

"You're kinda funny," she says. When she speaks, there's such conviction in her voice as if she doesn't make observations, but voices facts. "Just keep the weed away from the pizzas, Pizza Boy."

Razor scratches the back of his head and gives her a sly grin. "Weed? What weed?"

Lauren rolls her eyes. "So Carter complains about me, huh?"

Razor winces. "Heh, okay, complain is really strong a word…"

"Don't sugarcoat things," Lauren says sharply. "Say what you mean. I'm a big girl. I can handle it. I can take care of myself."

"I bet you can…"

At this point, Razor has no idea what they're even talking about. He just looks up at her and refraining from staring is clearly not an option. She looks uncomfortable for a moment, probably thinking he's judging her for the way her makeup is smeared and her eyes are puffy. All Razor wants her to know is how beautiful he thinks she looks with water in her eyes and her heart at her feet. Suddenly, she's returning his stare and Razor excitedly smiles at the possibility that she gets the message. That she gets him.

"What the hell, man? Let's clean up so we can get out of here!" Carter shouts from the door.

Their gaze shatters in seconds. No one can ruin a moment quite like Carter Anderson, who then proceeds to grumble, already fueled by his bad mood. Sighing irritably and flipping off Carter one last time, Lauren takes off to her car, not another word. Razor sighs loudly and lies back down on the ground, staring up at the stars above.

"Cry, pretty girl, cry," Razor whispers to himself. "Off with my heart, she flew."

-XX-

A few days later, during a particularly dead day at the Pizza Shack, Razor asks Emily about Lauren Tanner.

"No," Emily says firmly. "Absolutely do not go there. Razor, you don't know her. In the short time I've known her, she's tried to kill me, literally tried to kill me, messed with my head countless times and been a really big jerk. Razor, you don't want to get mixed up in that. Trust me."

"Maybe she's just misunderstood," Razor argues.

Emily remains resolute with the way she shakes her head. "That's what we all want to believe, Razor, but if you do try to get involved with Lauren Tanner you're just going to be disappointed every time."

"Aw, Emily," he laughs gently. "You know, you can't be the only girl in my life forever."

"That's not the point, Ray," Emily says. "Lauren Tanner is the embodiment of girly evil."

"Well, that sucks," Razor says. "We don't get to choose who our muse is."

Emily raises an eyebrow. "Muse?"

"Yeah," Razor says coolly. "I've been writing this song…"

Emily frowns sympathetically. "I just hope you know you're dancing with the devil."

Just then the bell above the front door jingles and in walks Carter with his arm slung around the petite blonde in question. Razor feels his heart sink at the sight of the two, smiling at each other and talking softly as if the other night didn't even happen. His displeasure must show on his face because he feels Emily's hand on his shoulder.

"Razor…"

"What, Em?" Razor laughs, facing his friend with a big smile. "Don't look at me like that. I didn't say I fell in love with the girl. I said she was my muse. My inspiration. I will tell yah, seeing her smile is a lot more motivating that seeing her cry."

Emily laughs just as the phone rings. "You're hopeless, you know?"

Razor laughs too, weaker this time. "I doubt you can name me a musician who isn't."

As Emily goes off with her pitcher of water for refills, Razor walks over to the phone ringing off the hook. With that soothing optimism in his voice, Razor answers the call and scrawls the order down on a pad of paper. Stealing glances over to where Lauren and Carter are spending their last moments before his shift ends, Razor can't help, but to press the tip of the ballpoint pen to the skin of his forearm, jotting down a few words as his burst of inspiration dictates.

Smile, pretty girl, smile

Her momentary fantasies will never be realities

-XX-

"So I haven't seen your girlfriend coming in here and verbally beating you," Razor jokes with Carter. "I assume everything is all rainbows and sunshine in couple world."

"You need to stop calling her my girlfriend," Carter says. "Someone could hear you."

"And?"

"And there's a Rock no dating rule," Carter says. "I could get into some serious trouble if anyone found out. Actually, I've gotten into trouble for it before. Let me tell you, that wasn't much fun."

"How romantic," Razor teases. "Risking it all for love. Is this girl really worth it?"

Carter shrugs carelessly before he goes to greet the customers who just wanted in through the front door. "To tell you the truth, man, sometimes I don't even know."

There's something about this conversation and Carter's reaction that doesn't sit well with Razor. He's seen Lauren Tanner happy and he's seen her sad. Apparently, Carter Anderson has the power to so easily alter her mood and it doesn't even seem like he cares. If it were Razor, he would be doing anything to give that girl the world, chocolate-covered strawberries and serenading her under a full moon. He'd give her everything.

As much as Razor trusts in Emily, when it comes to Lauren Tanner, he can't seem to stop.

He does realize that he doesn't know her at all and has never talked to her except for that one night where he was high as a balloon and really did think she was a celestial vision until the next time she came into the Pizza Shack looking for Carter and Razor was sober. He knows very well that she would be just as horrible as Emily says she is and that's one reason Razor doesn't want to talk to her and doesn't want to get to know her. He's afraid the real her will hardly stand up to the Lauren Tanner he's created in his head.

He has written countless pieces of songs with her in mind. Lauren Tanner embodies every 'girl', 'she' and 'her' in all his most recent songs. Razor is yet to put any of it to any actual music, but every time he reads through the lyrics he's written, all he sees is her face looking so sad. He's never seen someone make sad look so beautiful quite like Lauren can.

"Pizza Boy, how high are you right now?"

Razor literally jumps with fright. He's sitting behind the wheel of his car and quickly crumples the piece of paper he's been scribbling on. He looks out the window of his car and sees the blonde whose sad smile haunts his every reoccurring dream and waking moment. She looks so upset, but then gives him a smile Razor finds halfway genuine.

"Wow. Did I seriously scare you right then?"

"No!" Razor argues. He takes in how he just sounded like a snotty eight-year-old and so he clears his throat. "Okay. Yeah. You might have…surprised me. Who sneaks up and sticks their faces into windows like that?"

Lauren rolls her eyes. "Whatever. Answer the question."

"Not high at all?" Razor says.

"Good." Lauren rounds the side of his car, invites herself to sit in the passenger seat and slams the door after her. "You're taking me home."

"Um, why?"

"Because I refuse to be in the same car with my stupid boyfriend," she replies. "Can you please just give me a lift?"

"You get that this is crazy, right?" Razor asks. "I could be a serial killer for all you know."

"But you're not, are you?" Lauren quickly replies. "Plus, I, um…thought we had sort of, like, a moment the last time or something." She looks almost vulnerable for a second there and there are so many things running through his head and he wants to call up Emily just to give her an "ah-ha!" but then Lauren gives him a stern glare. "But if you tell anyone about this, especially Emily Kmetko, then I might have to go serial killer on you."

Razor pauses for a moment, looking at her suspiciously. "Can you read minds?"

"Maybe this is crazy," Lauren sighs and reaches for the door.

"No! Wait!" Razor shouts, sounding a little too eager. "I mean…where to?"

"I knew you'd see it my way," Lauren grins. "They always do. And I thought I was about to have to start with the death threats."

Something about that makes Razor smile and he starts the engine.

So here's the question, girl

When you look at me, do you see me?

Or just a fill-in for him?

Attempts to cool the heat with fresh meat

Now that's the sweetest sin

-XX-

He sees her waiting outside the Pizza Shack again about a week later.

Razor knows how easy it would be to go over there, made her smile and sweep her off her feet. He could then finally finish the song and be done with this obsession. He could have her. Razor can practically taste victory and he imagines it to be something along the lines of the tang of her lips. Despite the fact that he already as the scene scripted in his head, Razor doesn't make his way over to her.

He knows girls like Lauren Tanner. Girls with relationships with boys like Carter Anderson. It's a never-ending cycle and Razor is sure he'd just be a pit stop on her road back to Carter. To set one's self up for disaster like that is stupider than thinking one has a shot in the first place.

Out of the corner of his eye, Razor sees her give him a smile and he smiles back.

Then, turning to his car, Razor folds up the crumpled piece of paper that holds the lyrics to the song he wrote about her. He had thought to show her, to give it to her, to sing it to her and melt the ice that Emily says encases her heart and dry those Carter-caused tears on her cheeks. That's Razor's game plan and it's a foolproof one in the moment, but it lacks the promise of success in the future and that's what scares him the most.

Maybe one day, Razor tells himself as he gets into his car.

But that day isn't today.

Cry, pretty girl, cry

I need to walk away

Cry, pretty girl, cry

You aren't mine to save.

A/N: This is what happens when your dad's apartment building has really thin walls and one of the neighbors blasts 'You're Beautiful' by James Blunt over and over again.

Just wanna repeat something I've been pondering: The MIOBI writing/reading community is so small that we really shouldn't be hating on other shippers. We all disagree on ships. That's fact, but we shouldn't be using the power of writing to blatantly hate on people who have love for a different ship by writing them crazy out of character *cough* make sweet, awkward Nicky Russo abusive to feed the Payson/Sasha love *cough* I'm not hardcore nor against either P/N or P/S, but I don't want to see our fandom torn apart because of shipper wars. That's why we're on FF and not ABC Family forums where hate and controversy thrives. Respect for the characters and other writers are all I ask for. That's all.

Oh, and there's a poll on my profile. I really want to see what you guys think. :D

By the way, did I coin the first Razor/Lauren? If so, BOMBS. If no, glad I'm not the only one who sees it. ;)

xoxo