Chapter One: Spirit Albarn
Spirit was nervous, real nervous. He had never felt so nervous in his entire life. The room he sat in was not air conditioned, which did nothing to help. He could feel the prickle of sweat bead on his forehead. He ran a hand across it. But, that was no good either. His hands were sweaty, as well.
Naturally, he went back to twiddling his thumbs. His restlessness unsettled him. His legs felt numb from sitting on the too-small plastic chair underneath him. So, when they called his name, he stumbled to the door.
"I'm Spirit Albarn," she announced.
The woman who called his name just scowled at him. She was none too friendly. She wore all black clothing, head to toe. Her hair was short in the back, but longer in the front. The two longer strands fell just below her chin, and sat on both sides of her face. Her eyes were oddly yellow.
"Strange for someone to have yellow eyes," Spirit thought, "Maybe contacts?"
"Oh, really? I never would have guessed," she snapped, flipping the clipboard so he could see his photo.
He walked through the hallway to the room, feeling stupid. Two men, and a woman sat behind a table. There were no instruments, no nothing. This is not what he expected. Well, at least, he had hoped for something more. He certainly did not want to do a raw performance.
It's not that he couldn't sing without instrumental sound in the background. He just liked to hear something other than his own voice. He hated singing in front of people with no music in the background.
But, an audition was an audition, either way. So, he braced himself for what would be the best performance of his life.
"You're Spirit Albarn?" the woman asked.
"Yes, ma'am," he chortled.
"Nice to meet you, we are Stuck in the Past," the man on the right of the woman announced.
Spirit chuckled slightly. The band's name was ironic. All Spirit had ever dreamed about was the future. And, now he was auditioning for a band with such a contradicting name.
"I don't see why that is funny. But, please, proceed with your audition."
The man on the left practically sneered at the redhead. Spirit was worried that he'd ruined his chances, but he was determined. This was the band he would join. These were to be his bandmates. He was certain that he would blow their minds, and that was what he did.
He belted out lyric after lyric. His pitch was absolutely perfect. He was excellent, confident. That was what the other three wanted. Someone who looked just as good as his, or her singing. They lacked that confidence. What's more, they'd never heard the song he was singing before.
Which most likely meant that he could write songs. And, he was most definitely good at that, as well. The man on the right held up his hand, silencing Spirit.
"You left your telephone number, correct?" he questioned.
"I did," the sapphire eyed man replied. A grim look crossing his eyes.
"We have many options that we would like to consider, but we will call you once everything is decided."
Spirit's eyes widened, and his mouth opened slightly. His chest pinched tight, and he took in a jagged breath. He felt as if he'd been physically punched. It wasn't a straightforward no, but Spirit knew how this type of thing worked. They'd tell you they'd call, and then you'd never hear from them again.
He walked slowly out of the room, looking back for a moment. The three that sat behind the desk were strange. Like they gave off a certain kind of aura, that made Spirit's skin tingle. Though, he couldn't figure out why that was. Why had he felt so compelled by them?
Especially the girl at the end of the table, the girl with the pale blonde hair, and the dark green eyes. He felt like he was being pulled towards her. He wanted to know her. He wanted to know why he felt that way. But, if the band refused him, he'd never have a chance to find out. It was hard for him to leave.
"Goodbye, Albarn," the lady who had showed him to the room sneered. She glared at him as he left.
That was another thing that gave him an odd feeling. It was like the woman hated him, but he'd never met her. He'd never even seen her before.
"Have a nice day, dear," he politely replied.
His mother had always told him to kill his enemies with kindness. Though, this woman hardly was his enemy. Still, he felt an unbearable weight as she stared him down. She grunted in response. Spirit walked out of the small building, a gust of cool air breezing over him. He sighed.
Just one more thing to add to his failures. It was nearly night time. The street was bustling with people, probably heading to the local pubs. Spirit had never understood what pleasure the pubs gave those people. Drinking their problems away seemed weak.
He could never do something like that. He continued to walk down the sidewalk. Passing people as he did so. At one point a middle aged man stumbled into him, knocking him into a girl around his age.
She whined to her boyfriend that Spirit had hurt her, and so he decided to have a "talk" with Spirit. That got him a black eye, and a busted lip.
He was furious by the time he reached his apartment building. He stormed into the front entrance, continuing his quick pace to the stairs. He started up them, slipping on a wet substance near the top. He tumbled forward, rather than backwards, hitting his face on the next step.
"Damn it! As if my face hasn't taken enough damage!" he cried in anger. He rose to his feet, clenching his fists as he looked down.
Red liquid lay on the stairs where he'd hit his face. Blood, Spirit's nose was bleeding. He could feel the warm liquid rolling down his chin now. It slid onto his dirty white shirt, soiling it even further. He wanted to cry, wanted to scream, but held back his urges.
Instead, he knelt down, wiping the blood up with the bottom of his shirt. He felt sick as he looked at it. It was so red, so sickeningly red. He'd always hated the sight of blood. He let his shirt fall back onto his belly, bringing a hand up to pinch his nose shut. He needed to get to his apartment quickly, before he made a mess in the hallway.
He walked swiftly to the last doorway in the hallway. He unlocked it, pushing it open, and entering it. He went to slam the door, but caught it before it actually connected with the frame. He would be evicted if he managed to damage it.
Which he wouldn't have minded, if he could've afforded to live somewhere else. But, as it was, he couldn't. The interior of his apartment was very small. As soon as you walked through the door you were standing in the kitchen area. It was crowded, and had no room for a dinner table.
His pad had no dining room, and no living room. So, he ate his food sitting in a chair near the small counter, or in his bedroom. The bathroom was down a short hallway to the left, across from his bedroom. He made his way there, gazing into the mirror after he entered. The skin around his left eye was red.
Though, you could clearly see the beginnings of purple, and black showing in certain spots. His bottom lip was split in the middle. He resisted the urge to run his tongue over it. His nose had stopped bleeding, but the bridge of it was already bruising.
His short red hair was knotted, and messy, his skin seemed too pale. His azure eyes seemed very dull. He looked lifeless, and far too old for his age. Spirit was always overconfident, always full of himself around others, but deep down inside, he hated himself. The way he looked, the way he dressed, everything.
He just wanted to disappear, to vanish into thin air, because he wouldn't be missed. No, nobody would miss pathetic, Spirit Albarn. He didn't have anybody to miss him. A tear slipped down his cheek. He took a washcloth in his hand, wetting it, and placing it over his stinging face.
When he removed it, his face was clean. He dried it with a hand towel. He stared at his reflection for a few more moments. Tears still collected in his eyes. He didn't let them spill over. Instead, taking a deep breath while running a hand through his hair, he blinked them away.
He still felt the dull ache in his chest, but it was just bearable. He left the bathroom, retiring to his bedroom. He lay down on his stiff bed, staring at the ceiling for a while, before dozing off.