A chord rings out.
It's exhilarating, really. To be up on the stage in front of all these people. Not a huge crowd. We're not big. We're big enough for this city, and we're unsigned. And not going anywhere. Fame would be great, but I'm in it for the fun.
My chord.
I can see the whole crowd, their faces lit up, their fists pumping, and the energy's crazy. We just finished our last song of the night and I'm breathing as heavy as Anthony's bass was pumping or Alison's cymbals were crashing through our huge giant amps.
My muffled chord.
I can't hear the crowd cheering but I know they are. They love us. I love us. They love me? Could. Possible. But I can tell from the air that's buzzing like the fuzz of Aaron's mic, still on even though he's not singing, he's already off the stage and mingling with the crowd, that they want more. I take out my earplugs and reach for barren's mic and I take a better look at the crowd and I can finally see everyone.
My tangled chord.
I almost wish I hadn't because now that I can hear I can see even better. They're here. And I left them behind on good terms but now they're here on my terms. I paid like everyone and everyone paid to like me, and it's comforting to know the Titans can still party with the best of them, even without me. I yell into the mic if anyone wants to come up and join the stage and I immediately regret it but Aaron holds them back because it's a small enough venue.
My wrangled chord.
It's gotten so the people that can fly are the only people that can get there, and it so happens that Kori and Garfield can do just that. So they join me up on stage and the crowd parts like the red sea when they see red and green there next to yellow and it's divided between the girls that hate him and the guys that love me and the girls that love me too, I guess. Funny thing about being openly bisexual, your band gets a lot more fans that way. And I love them and I love Garfield and Kori and Aaron and Anthony and Alison, too. They're aces in my book, and my heart races when Garfield places his hands on both my necks.
The chord fades but lives on in the air and I can't wait to get out of there because I'm sweating and I know Garfield can feel it, but he wipes my forehead and kisses me like he does after every show and I get hotter than I already am and the fans cheer and boo and I can't hear them anymore. The earplugs drop and scatter and the fans follow them and the three of us are alone on the stage with Anthony and Alison already gone and doing something else, probably signing or schmoozing and me, sighing, I'll join them when we're done, not under the lights, and it's colder outside and suddenly we're there with my guitar strapped to my back and I can't help but look towards the Tower and let that play with my heartstrings for a bit.
And that's the most familiar chord of all, the chord that faded long ago but lives on, the chord that ties me to my home that I left two, three, I've lost count years ago. I'm what, 20, 21 now? So three years now and the chord still rings in my ears, and it's what drives me to stay here, because if I go too far it'll snap and I might lose myself again, and I know where I stand on stage and in life when I'm replaying the chords I know. Change is good but change is a knife in my life and that's how I think now, I think in rhyme when I'm with the band, or I think I think like that at least; maybe I always did.
I hug Kori and I kiss Beast Boy again and we go back to my apartment, the two of us, leaving the red behind for the yellow and green to blend to keep out the blue while the sky goes black until orange rises and paints the sky and we come up from dark grey sheets and the red comes back to our faces and I'm lost in the spin-art bliss of my life.
I don't regret leaving the Titans; I can only be a superhero for so long. Things have calmed down in my life and I can start organizing my thoughts again. Gar still loves me and I still love him and he's probably the biggest reason we'll never get big, and if Aaron makes me break up with him if we get a label, screw it, I'm staying right here and they can find another guitarist.
We've got another show tonight so I have to get dressed again, cover up my pink and blue with brown and black and another layer of blue, and he covers his green with black and purple, and we walk out of the apartment and we kiss and I head back to the studio that's really Aaron's garage that's really just an abandoned lot where he parks his car and Alison's already got her drums set up and we shoot the breeze for a while.
She's got a boy (she's always got a boy) and his name's Ben or Rick or something I can't remember because it doesn't matter, he'll be gone in a week when he finds out she bangs skin but won't bang him and I feel sorry for her for a bit and I almost recommend someone I met at the community college until I remember she already met him and oh yeah his name's Anthony the bassist (who just happened to show up and now Aaron's cutting our conversation short because we've got to practice to play the same old familiar set).
But we're trying something new and it has to be ready because we're going to do a demo of it tonight and see how it gets received. He says he doesn't have a name which is okay because I come up with them anyway because names are always swimming in my head (and it's either Kori's breaststroke or Garfield's butterfly but they're always there anyway). I have to stop the thoughts, drain the mental pool for a bit, because when we learn something I play and I concentrate on the music, and I'm tied to the works like I used to be tied to my work.
A chord rings out.