Disclaimers and summary on first chapter
Chapter 8 -Pseudo-Depression Incarnate-
+Mark's POV+
I see Maureen walking toward me backstage. I make an effort to smile at her and hope she can see it in the dark. She touches my arm gently and gives me a push; I know she wants me to go to the audience. When the act on stage is finished and the whole room goes black I go through the wing and down the stairs, finding an aisle seat in the second row.
Maureen walks on stage, a spot light opens on her. Her music starts and I watch her move her body across the stage. The music is rather light and happy at first and she plays a fool, leaping and dancing carelessly. The mood eventually grows sinister and at one point she turns and stops, her eyes sweeping over the audience. Her expression is accusatory, angry, critical. Then the music changes again to another more livened tone and her routine mimics the first dance. When she finishes she stands and waves, a large smile spreading over her face. There are only a few spaced out claps at first, then a full applause, however hesitant. I join it and look up at Maureen. She's looking at me, smiling.
Finally she leaves the stage and is replaced by the blond guy with the guitar. I still don't even know his name, why isn't there an MC to announce the acts? It doesn't really matter, but for some reason it bothers me. He grins at the audience and I can feel the mood in the room lift. A handsome guy with a guitar they understand. I watch his fingers move over the neck and then he turns his face toward the mic and starts singing. I listen and despite myself start to get drawn in. In another minute all there is are his hands on the guitar, his voice filling the room and the emotion in his features. I watch him soundlessly, the whole room does, and when he finishes the applause is loud and immediate. His smile is almost shy as he beams back at them. He looks through the crowd and his eyes fall on me. He raises his eyebrows but grins even more. When he walks off I get up and go back to my place backstage.
"Where've you been? You said one act, Mark!"
"Bathroom." I say nonchalantly, taking over the curtain pulls.
"We don't need the curtain anymore." He hands me three mics. "Go put these in the other mic stands on stage and move them close together in the middle."
I take them and go back out in the dark, placing the mics and then arranging them. I hear the next act coming out behind me so I quickly leave just before the lights come up. Some hands me a box backstage.
"Put this in the guys dressing room."
I nod and take it. When I open the dressing room door he's in there. He grins when I walk in.
"I saw you, you know, in the audience. Who're you watching? Me or your girlfriend?"
"Both. She's not my girlfriend." I say bitterly.
"Oh that's right." He winks and nudges my arm as I walk past him. "She's 'just Maureen'."
"Exactly." I say, more defensively that I mean it to be. I shove the box in a corner.
He holds up his hands. "Alright, alright. Just kidding with you."
"Yeah, whatever." I turn to go and he grabs my arm. His expression is serious.
"Look, I'm sorry." His face brightens. "Are you coming tomorrow?"
I shrug and pull away.
"Hey, please? I don't really know who else to ask, I just moved here this year, the only guys I know are in my band."
"That's not my problem."
"Please?"
"I'll think about it."
"That's what you said last time."
Something about the way he continues to smile initiates an emotion I can't describe inside of me.
"Please?"
"Sure." I find myself saying, however reluctantly.
"Really? Great! You know the time right? 8:30?" His grin is frighteningly large. "I'm Roger, by the way."
He holds out a hand. I hesitantly take it. He looks at me expectantly.
"Mark." I sigh. "Mark Cohen."
"You've got no idea how great it is you're going! Do you know anybody else who would?"
I shrug. "Maybe."
"Great!" He says that a lot and it bothers me. What's so 'great' about anything anymore? He checks his watch and his eyebrows go up in surprise.
"I have to go, I'm already late for band practice. I'll see you tomorrow!"
He waves as he leaves. I watch him go, silently wondering how I keep getting into these situations. I hate the feeling he leaves me with. He's so social, amiable. It leaves me feeling like pseudo-depression incarnate.
I find Maureen after the show.
"You did good." I say, almost choking on the complement, however sincere it is. "You want to go to a club tomorrow night?"
+++
Notes: More coming soon, I promise. I think I'm going to start getting into the Roger/April relationship -after- they left soon, but the Roger/April relationship while they were still in high school might be a little farther in the future. I'm trying to hurry up and slash already, but the stupid plot development won't let me! Soon, soon children, is all I can promise. Until then thanks for reading and enjoy!
Chapter 8 -Pseudo-Depression Incarnate-
+Mark's POV+
I see Maureen walking toward me backstage. I make an effort to smile at her and hope she can see it in the dark. She touches my arm gently and gives me a push; I know she wants me to go to the audience. When the act on stage is finished and the whole room goes black I go through the wing and down the stairs, finding an aisle seat in the second row.
Maureen walks on stage, a spot light opens on her. Her music starts and I watch her move her body across the stage. The music is rather light and happy at first and she plays a fool, leaping and dancing carelessly. The mood eventually grows sinister and at one point she turns and stops, her eyes sweeping over the audience. Her expression is accusatory, angry, critical. Then the music changes again to another more livened tone and her routine mimics the first dance. When she finishes she stands and waves, a large smile spreading over her face. There are only a few spaced out claps at first, then a full applause, however hesitant. I join it and look up at Maureen. She's looking at me, smiling.
Finally she leaves the stage and is replaced by the blond guy with the guitar. I still don't even know his name, why isn't there an MC to announce the acts? It doesn't really matter, but for some reason it bothers me. He grins at the audience and I can feel the mood in the room lift. A handsome guy with a guitar they understand. I watch his fingers move over the neck and then he turns his face toward the mic and starts singing. I listen and despite myself start to get drawn in. In another minute all there is are his hands on the guitar, his voice filling the room and the emotion in his features. I watch him soundlessly, the whole room does, and when he finishes the applause is loud and immediate. His smile is almost shy as he beams back at them. He looks through the crowd and his eyes fall on me. He raises his eyebrows but grins even more. When he walks off I get up and go back to my place backstage.
"Where've you been? You said one act, Mark!"
"Bathroom." I say nonchalantly, taking over the curtain pulls.
"We don't need the curtain anymore." He hands me three mics. "Go put these in the other mic stands on stage and move them close together in the middle."
I take them and go back out in the dark, placing the mics and then arranging them. I hear the next act coming out behind me so I quickly leave just before the lights come up. Some hands me a box backstage.
"Put this in the guys dressing room."
I nod and take it. When I open the dressing room door he's in there. He grins when I walk in.
"I saw you, you know, in the audience. Who're you watching? Me or your girlfriend?"
"Both. She's not my girlfriend." I say bitterly.
"Oh that's right." He winks and nudges my arm as I walk past him. "She's 'just Maureen'."
"Exactly." I say, more defensively that I mean it to be. I shove the box in a corner.
He holds up his hands. "Alright, alright. Just kidding with you."
"Yeah, whatever." I turn to go and he grabs my arm. His expression is serious.
"Look, I'm sorry." His face brightens. "Are you coming tomorrow?"
I shrug and pull away.
"Hey, please? I don't really know who else to ask, I just moved here this year, the only guys I know are in my band."
"That's not my problem."
"Please?"
"I'll think about it."
"That's what you said last time."
Something about the way he continues to smile initiates an emotion I can't describe inside of me.
"Please?"
"Sure." I find myself saying, however reluctantly.
"Really? Great! You know the time right? 8:30?" His grin is frighteningly large. "I'm Roger, by the way."
He holds out a hand. I hesitantly take it. He looks at me expectantly.
"Mark." I sigh. "Mark Cohen."
"You've got no idea how great it is you're going! Do you know anybody else who would?"
I shrug. "Maybe."
"Great!" He says that a lot and it bothers me. What's so 'great' about anything anymore? He checks his watch and his eyebrows go up in surprise.
"I have to go, I'm already late for band practice. I'll see you tomorrow!"
He waves as he leaves. I watch him go, silently wondering how I keep getting into these situations. I hate the feeling he leaves me with. He's so social, amiable. It leaves me feeling like pseudo-depression incarnate.
I find Maureen after the show.
"You did good." I say, almost choking on the complement, however sincere it is. "You want to go to a club tomorrow night?"
+++
Notes: More coming soon, I promise. I think I'm going to start getting into the Roger/April relationship -after- they left soon, but the Roger/April relationship while they were still in high school might be a little farther in the future. I'm trying to hurry up and slash already, but the stupid plot development won't let me! Soon, soon children, is all I can promise. Until then thanks for reading and enjoy!