Penname: mouse555
Title: Unwritten
Rating: M
Summary: Jasper has always dreamed of being a rockstar… will he take his chance at an open mic night?
Banner Link: http : / /i938 . photobucket . com / albums / ad226 / Bertbomb / banners / Unwritten - 1 . jpg
Banner Creator: FrozenSoldier

AN - This story was inspired by a couple of things. Firstly, the banner. I was looking through blogs and this banner practically screamed at me. So I adopted it and kept looking at it. (I may want to hug it) and then I went to see 100 Monkeys live. I was also extremely lucky enough to interview the band with a friend for a fanpage that we admin (check out Hell Yeah 100 Monkeys) and being that close to Jackson (and the other guys who are awesome) was just... woah. As my high began to dissipate, I wanted to write a fic about a rockstar Jasper... and this one shot was born. Enjoy...

I don't own twilight, but I do own a stolen belt signed by 100 Monkeys!

"let's unwrite these pages and replace them with our own"

Rise Against – Swing Life Away

It was the noise that caught his attention rather than the cacophony of colours printed on the paper. The leaflet flapped in the wind, as if trying to detach itself from the staples clamping it to the huge tree. He continued to walk past until the words "Open Mic Night" caught his eye. Trying to ignore it, he forced his feet to keep moving. Three paces later, he gave in, turned back and pulled the paper from its restraints, shoved it in his bag without even looking at it and continued on his way.

Walking into the heat of the coffee shop was a relief from the almost horizontal wind that was plaguing the streets of London. Shoving his bag in his locker, he pulled on his apron and began his shift, the leaflet weighing heavily on his mind.

A long eight hours later, he collapsed into an empty chair for a well earned cup of coffee and a panini that hadn't been sold. Waste not want not and all that. He was exhausted, but it hadn't been all bad. It was always fun to flirt with the female customers, especially those who were new to the area.

A quick glance at his tip jar confirmed that he'd been at the top of his game all day. A self-satisfied smirk crossed his features before he helped finish up with the cleaning, so they could lock up and hit the pub to catch the last hour.

It wasn't until he pulled his bag over his shoulder that he remembered the open mic night he'd eventually managed to put out of his mind. For as long as he could remember, he wanted to perform his own music, but never had the guts to do anything about it. None of his friends knew about his dreams, or that he even played four instruments. That was a tough thing to hide, but he managed it.

There was an office party in full swing in the pub, so he only had two whiskeys before making his way home. His tiny flat was cold when he let himself in, but he didn't care. He dropped his bag on the floor and went into the spare room and sat at his keyboard. Lovingly, he ran his fingers along the keys wishing, not for the first time, that he had the money and space for a real piano.

Without really thinking, he began to play a melody that had been flowing through his mind for a few days. After a while, it became apparent that it wasn't suited to the keyboard and as he picked up his beaten up old guitar, feeling rather pleased with himself, he pulled out some blank guitar tab sheets and began to write the chords down.

As usual, the hours slipped past him unnoticed as he immersed himself in his music. Before he knew it, the sun was rising through the small window behind. Without bothering to check the time, he went into his bedroom and fell into bed fully clothed. Within minutes, he was fast asleep.

Thankful for a day off after sleeping half the day away, he locked himself away in the spare room. He was happy with the melody, but he couldn't even begin to fathom out any lyrics to go along with it.

Frustrated, he decided he needed a break, and the fresh air was beckoning. He bundled up and went out into the cold air. Without really thinking about it, he began to make his way towards the venue hosting the upcoming open mic night. He turned into a side street to discover a grotty looking pub that he hadn't been to since he was young and desperate. Unsure about what he was doing, he pushed open the door and stepped inside.

He spent a couple of hours quietly watching the type of people that came into the pub to try and get a handle on the type of music they might like. He was pleasantly surprised at the diversity of patrons; maybe the open mic night would be a good idea after all... if only he could finish his track.

He stood up and pulled his coat back on, just as he reached the door; it was pushed open from the outside. He stepped back as a couple of guys and a woman in what looked like the uniform of the Royal Marines walked in all smiles as they laughed and joked around. Without giving them another thought, he carried on out the door and walked back to the flat.

Seeing the uniforms made Jasper think about his cousin who had been in the army for the past three years and who was currently based in Afghanistan. Alice had been his constant companion growing up as they were the same age and lived within spitting distance from each other. They were as close as brother and sister without the petty squabbles caused by being under the same roof twenty four seven. He worried about her constantly, but was so damn proud. She was doing the only career she'd ever wanted and finally he was working towards his. He resolved to write her a letter telling her about him finally doing something about his dream. If he didn't and found out after the fact, she'd make sure she'd find some way back home from the front line just so she could kick his arse.

Alice had bought him first ever guitar when he turned eleven and had constantly supported him and encouraged him. She was the only one who knew the extent of his love for all things musical and had always said she wanted to see him on the TV and tell her Army buddies that he was her cousin as they would all "fall madly in love with his gorgeous self." Even remembering her say that caused him to roll his eyes. He felt as if he owed it to her to get his track completed in time to perform it.

When he arrived back home, he quickly shot Alice an email filling her in on what he was up to, both musically and in general, and sending her his love before heading into the spare room to kick his own arse into gear and get himself fully prepared. Now he'd made up his mind for definite, he was determined to blow every person in the pub away... if he could.

Over the next three days he worked his shifts at the coffee shop, and worked even harder on his track, determined to make it as perfect as possible. Eventually he was pretty much happy with it, and there was still a day to go before he would be performing it in front of a live audience which both excited and made him feel sick at the same time. He had to force himself to stay away from it whenever he wasn't working otherwise he would completely rewrite the whole thing, and there simply wasn't time.

The day of his performance arrived with glorious sunshine. The chill in the air made his walk to work a crisp, yet enjoyable experience. He felt as if he were walking three feet in the air because of his nerves. He had managed to keep the whole thing close to his chest in case it didn't work out. The only person he had told was Alice, but she hadn't replied to his email. He guessed there wasn't much time to log on whilst being in a warzone.

His shift flew by and in no time he was back in his flat standing in front of his wardrobe trying to work out what to wear. If he dressed up too much he'd look like a fool and if he dressed down too much he'd look like a tramp. In the end he opted for a casual shirt, jeans and his battered old cowboy boots. He ran his fingers through his chin length, dark brown hair in lieu of a brush. Finally happy enough with what he saw looking back at him from the mirror, he grabbed his guitar and headed out the door before he could change his mind.

The small pub was heaving when he arrived. There were prospective performers everywhere tuning their instruments or running over music in preparation for the evenings activities. He found the sign up table before settling in to an abandoned corner and sat down to calm himself down. He didn't need to tune his guitar knowing full well it was in perfect working order and he hadn't brought his sheet music thanks to having it memorised after working on it solidly for the past week.

When the live music began, Jasper sat and watched, equally horrified and impressed at the acts and their ability. It was as if he were in the audience of an excruciatingly bad episode of The X Factor. There were dogs somewhere howling to drown out the noise, he was sure of it as a couple of "performers" had invented notes that only those of the canine persuasion would hear.

Just has he finished his second pint of Dutch Courage, his name was called. With his heart in his throat, he slowly made his way to the stage. Pulling a stool to the front with a single spotlight on him, he began to play. As soon as he began to strum, the people watching melted away and it was just him and the mic.

The heartfelt lyrics poured out of him and before he knew it, there was a thundering standing ovation bringing his attention back to the crowd in front of him. Smiling shyly, he mumbled his thanks and left the stage.

As soon as he reached the bar, he ordered a whiskey to try and calm the adrenaline fuelled tremors that racked his body. The barman refused his payment claiming that anyone who sang like he had deserved a drink on the house. Mumbling more words of thanks, he returned to his corner which wasn't empty any longer. There, in her uniformed glory was Alice, tears of pride rolling down her face.