Notes: Nothing belongs to me, everything belongs to Hussie. This fic contains ZERO spoilers, since it's mostly 'pre-canon'. Also, first HS fanfic, so, yeah. It's propably not all that great.
Trancefixion
Your name is Dave Strider. You are 10 years old.
And you are in a club.
None of your friends have ever seen a club, let alone get inside one. But there you are. With the deafening music filling your eardrums and the lights blinking in front of your shaded eyes. And you wouldn't have it any other way.
This is no new setting for you. As far as you can remember, this is how you grew up. It all started in your home.
When other kids were sang lullabies before sleep, you had your ears filled with beats, mixes and scratches. The crème de la crème of electronic music was what put you to sleep. When others were taught nursery rhymes, you were taught the lyrics of house tunes. While other kids played with building blocks, you were messing around with LPs and turntables.
And when the time finally came for you to go to a club, for the very first time, when you finally got to experience that world yourself… It was instant, uncontained love.
First, you went once in a couple of months. And then it was every month. Until finally you were there every week, being filled by all the sounds, sights and smells that place could offer. It's like a spell that you can't break. It's as if the club is a mistress, the music is her voice, the heavy, hot air is her perfume and the lights are her jewelry, and you just can't escape her charms, no matter what you do or what you say.
And, if it wasn't for your brother, you wouldn't know anything about that enchanting world.
The first time he took you there, people looked at him funny. They honestly thought he was kidding about bringing you there. But he wasn't. And when he finally got to get inside, and propped you in a seat behind his mixing set, it felt almost unreal. Almost as if you didn't belong there, despite your upbringing.
But then the music started, and you instantly felt at home. Everything was suddenly familiar to you. And it was beautiful to witness that unfold in front of your eyes, to the point where you had to remove your shades and just let your bright red eyes indulge in that sight. The multicolored lights blinking and sparkling in perfect harmony with the music, the people dancing, and the smoke machine filling the air with a thin fog that made everything look like some sort of ethereal and surrealistic dream.
That feeling can't be compared and, no matter how much you try to, you can't explain it. It's something that goes beyond words. It's the kind of amazement one experiences once in a lifetime. And you got to feel it at the tender age of ten.
If you had to describe yourself, regarding that, you would say that you are one goddamn lucky bastard.
Your brother knows it all too well that you are completely mesmerized by that setting. He can see it as you stare at the smoking crowd and your mouth gapes, as if your mind has gone someplace far, far away. That's why he agrees on bringing you along every single time.
Who cares you need to stay up past bedtime, or that sometimes you need to wake up early the next day, and go to school looking like crap because you couldn't get enough sleep? None of that matters, when you weight that and the feeling of absolute joy you get from those tunes and those lights.
You don't even know how you survived before discovering such a paradise.