Disclaimer: I own nothing. Not even this story idea, that belongs to 'Demon Eyes Glow Blood Red'.
The song 'My Bloody Valentine' is copywrite of Good Charlotte
Authors Note: I think I should first point out that this story does not belong to me – it is merely a rewrite of 'Demon Eyes Glow Blood Red' story, 'My Bloody Valentine'. I read it, liked it, and decided to turn it into something better than before. An upgrade, if you will.
I did indeed get Demon's permission to do this, so any flames given in that regard will be used to help heat my sick Betta fish's tank.
Have fun reading, and Demon, I hope I've done your story good.
It was late when Tenna first showed up at Devi's house. As per usual, she burst through the door, not caring that it wasn't her house, that Devi might actually be sleeping tonight. Fortunately, the girl in question wasn't asleep – she was occupied with a painting she'd gotten an idea for after doodling in her notebook earlier that day.
The dark-skinned female squealed as she closed in on her friend, dancing around her while Devi calmly ignored her hyperactive friend.
"Devi! Devi, look what I managed to get!" She stuck a clenched hand in Devi's face, who pulled back a little at the rather sudden motion. "They were the last ones!" Devi raised an eyebrow, staring at the items her friend was talking about. In Tenna's hand was what appeared to be a pair of mildly crumpled concert tickets.
"And they are?" She asked, putting her paintbrush down only because with Tenna practically in front of her, she could no longer see her easel. Tenna groaned in disbelief.
"Concert tickets! To the Homicidal Maniac concert! This guy always sells out – I've never gotten tickets for him before, I've always had to settle for his albums." Tenna grabbed her friends arm, pulling towards the still-open door.
"Ten, I don't want to go." The girl shook her head.
"I don't care! This guy is an awesome singer, and need I remind you, you still have a lot of getting out to do. You said you killed that doll thing, so why are you still moping about inside? Besides, I bought two tickets, and I don't want to go knowing I wasted sixty bucks." Devi didn't bother resisting. Tenna was stronger then she looked, and besides, the girl had a point - she had beaten Sickness, so why was she acting like the demon creature was still there, hovering over her shoulder and alienating her from society? She used to love going out.
'But that was before Johnny happened.' She thought. Johnny had tried to kill her, and had quickly ruined Devi's appetite for leaving her house. After that, Sickness had ruined whatever was left, practically turning Devi into a shut-in. She supposed the reason why she didn't want to go out with Tenna anymore was because of a residual fear that Johnny would come back to finish what he'd started, ignoring the fact that the killings had lowered to almost nil over the past few months. But with a concert name like ' Homicidal Maniac', it was no wonder she wanted to stay inside.
'Johnny wouldn't sing.' She reassured herself. 'He'd sooner wear pink then take up singing.' Devi took in a breath, exhaling quietly before speaking.
"Fine. But I am not boosting you up on my shoulders so you can scream how much you love him." Last time she'd done that for Tenna, she'd gotten smushed, and her back had been sore for days. Tenna grinned.
"Deal. Now, come on! It's starting soon!" Devi reeled internally about this fact, quietly following her dark-skinned friend to her car.
Devi couldn't exactly remember why she'd stopped letting Tenna drive, so didn't really care much when the girl darted behind the wheel, but found herself quite reassured as to why she -Devi- had done all the driving for so long – Tenna drove like a maniac.
They were speeding down the street like they'd stolen a Camaro, and Devi wouldn't have been surprised if the police started chasing them down. But the ride was, for the most part, surprisingly quiet.
When they reached the stadium, Devi groaned. It was packed with screaming fan-girls, and the odd fan-boy. She should have expected this; it was a sold-out concert, of course everything she hated about people would conglomerate here. Worse then that was the smell of it all: a rank mixture of over-applied perfumes, bad cologne, and greasy artificial foods. She almost wanted to puke.
"Ten, I think... I think I'll stay with the car... Y'know... make sure it doesn't get stolen?" Tenna wouldn't have any of it, and grabbed Devi's arm again as she headed inside, into the stadium Devi would've given her most prized paintings to avoid.
"You're coming with me Devi. You sitting with the car will not use this ticket; which in turn will not make me feel better about having wasted sixty bucks!" Devi sighed.
"There's no stopping you, is there?" Tenna turned, grinning happily.
"Nope!"
As it turned out, the seats Tenna had managed to procure were almost at the front, which surprised Devi a little. Wouldn't the last two seats available be the worst? This concerned Devi a bit. That would mean that Tenna had bought the tickets somewhere other than the box office.
Time seemed to pass slowly, occupied solely by the mumbling of too-young hormone-crazed teens and their friends, arguing silently about who the bigger fan was. Devi was sorely tempted to walk out, but the knew that doing so would upset Tenna. She'd come this far, she could handle an evening of squealing fan-girls; she'd had to endure worse things at NERVE and Dragon Books. Besides, what were the odds that Johnny C, hater of most if not all forms of socialization, would've taken up singing?
Then, a fat man walked onto the stage from some unseen room off to the side. He held a microphone in his hands and was grinning, most likely at the amount of people having shown up. He took in a breath, and began to speak.
"Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome your favorite singer -" Devi strained to hear the name, but at 'welcome', the crowd went wild, their cries of joy drowning out the name of whoever was now walking on stage, looking none too impressed. In fact, judging by his posture, he looked as though he wanted to be anywhere but the concert hall. Devi scoffed, sympathizing with him.
The man was scrawny, skinny almost to the point of looking anorexic, with only just enough body mass on him to convince her otherwise. He wore almost all black, and had a messy mop of black hair sticking out at all angles, making him look like he'd gotten out of bed and come straight here.
The closer he got to center stage, the more depressed he seemed to become, and Devi grinned a little, knowing how he must be feeling.
"Thanks..." The singer snatched the microphone from the fat man, his 'thank you' leaking into it and echoing just barely above the wild crowd of teens.
The lights began to dim, and thankfully, the crowd settled down as the room darkened, fake but convincing sounds of thunder and rain beginning to echo through the concert hall. Guitar started up, followed closely by some soft chords, and the man began to sing.
"Oh my love, please don't cry – I'll wash my bloody hands and we'll start a new life." Despite singing well, he was glaring out at the crowd, looking absolutely malicious. Devi wondered vaguely why the crowd seemed to love this kind of treatment, but shook the thought off as she enjoyed the music. It was, despite the dark lyrics, a rather upbeat song.
"I ripped out his throat, and called you on the telephone to take off my disguise just in time to hear you cry when you..." He paused for barely a moment, taking a breath before continuing to sing, still sweeping his angry glare across the crowd. "You mourn the death of your bloody valentine... The night he died; you mourn the death of your bloody valentine one last time..." The singer seemed to deflate a little bit, slumping a little bit as he took a step away from the edge of the stage.
"Singin'; oh, my love, please don't cry - I'll wash my bloody hands and we'll start a new life. I don't know much at all, I don't know wrong from right, all I know is that I love you tonight." Devi turned to Tenna, about to tell the girl that she had been right – this man was indeed a good singer. He looked like he could use a good cheering up, but was certainly good at what he did. Tenna however, was enraptured in dancing on the spot, much like the thousands of other fans in the room.
"There was police and flashing lights, the rain came down so hard that night and the headlines read; 'A lover died'. No tell-tale heart was left to find when you... You mourn the death of your bloody valentine... The night he died; you mourn the death of your bloody valentine one last time." Devi, dancing contentedly now alongside her friend, took a glance at the singer. He still looked deflated, and was sweeping his gaze across the crowd still, but had his head aimed more or less at the stage floor.
"Singin'; oh, my love, please don't cry - I'll wash my bloody hands and we'll start a new life. I don't know much at all, I don't know wrong from right, all I know is that I love you tonight." The music slowed, and again sounds of thunder and rain rolled across the room; fake, but convincing.
"Tonight..." Then, the man's gaze locked with Devi's, hazel brown eyes looking into emerald green. Devi's breath hitched in her throat – she knew those eyes. Innocent-looking eyes betraying just a hint of true homicidal insanity. The song started up again, and the singer held for just a moment longer then he was supposed to before he blinked distractedly, and began singing once more.
"He dropped you off, I followed him home, then I... I stood outside his bedroom window. Standing over him, he begged me not to do what I knew I had to do cause I'm so in love with you." He turned his gaze elsewhere in the crowd, and Devi began immediately telling herself that it must have been her eyes playing tricks on her, that it wasn't him standing up there, singing to a gigantic group of everyone he normally would have hated to even make eye contact with a few months earlier.
"Oh, my love, please don't cry - I'll wash my bloody hands and we'll start a new life. I don't know much at all, I don't know wrong from right, all I know is that I love you tonight, tonight!" The song ended on the sound of violins and falling rain, but the quiet lasted barely a moment before the crowd regained it's voice and began to scream again. The fat man from before came back on stage, the man who Devi was now sure was Johnny throwing the mic at him before walking away. He took a glance at Devi, staring with a teary-eyed gaze, talking swiftly to himself as he stalked quickly toward the side room from before.
"She came – she mustn't remember me then. Alright, keep singing, keep out of her life, keep her happy. I can't fix us." Devi was certain she was the only one who heard him.
