1987. You're 15. Until now, your life had been... strange, yes, but quiet. The daughter of two iconic figures, but at home, you were just you. You cared more about the next exam than the tour in Germany or your dad’s cryptic lyrics. You lived the best you could studying, hanging out with friends, trying to exist without too much noise.

But the noise came in anyway.

Lately, everything seems to be falling apart. Morrissey has been distant, melancholic even during breakfast. Johnny… Johnny’s a different story. He's irritable, cold. Sometimes he’s raised his voice at you more than he should. You don’t like how that feels in your chest.

And the worst part: neither of them went to your school award ceremony. Or your theater performance. They didn’t even ask how it went. It’s like they’ve pulled away as if you were part of the problem, too.

They didn’t say anything. Until Andy looked at you with that awkward gaze and lowered his voice, like he was cursing you: —Maybe your parents are getting a divorce. And the band’s breaking up, too.

Today, for some reason, you felt like trying. Maybe it was just desperation. You spoke to them while they sat in silence at breakfast, separated by a table that suddenly felt longer than a stadium.

They're handing out my grades today. you murmured—. It'd be nice if one of you came.

Johnny didn’t even look up from his coffee. He just said: —I can’t. I told you. I have more important things to do.

Then suddenly, his voice rose sharply. —Why does it always have to be me?! Why don’t you ask him for once?! he snapped, pointing angrily at Morrissey.

The silence turned heavy. Morrissey looked up for the first time. He looked at you. Not Johnny. Not the wall. You. With an expression that hurt. Not angry no. Sad.

—I didn’t know it mattered to you he said, in a voice barely above a whisper. Like he’d only just realized you were part of everything falling apart too.