hey okay, part 2! Thanks for all (3) of you who reviewed the intro. And sorry it took me awhile to get this up. Well, I don't own anyone, of course, they are Jonathon Larson's! and the song is placebo's. well, enjoy! And please r/r! Thanks
VERSE I
EVERY ME EVERY YOU
"Carve your name into my arm
Instead of stressed I lie here charmed
'cause there's nothing else to do
every me every you."
"Every me Every you" -Placebo
It was just Mark, Collins, and me living in the loft at the time. We split the rent three ways; Mark earned his share by selling his documentaries, Collins did a number of odd jobs anywhere he could (usually some techno-genie shit), and I played the clubs.
I was with the Rentboys back then. The guitarist and lead vocalist. I know I was, because that's how we met, April and I. It shouldn't have been anything strange. A gig, a club, a bar...a dark room clouded with smoke and crowded with ash-coloured people taking deep hits from ash-coloured cigarettes; The ever present drone of absent chatter and bottles clinking; the mosh pit in the front where fans either truly or feigning excitement shouted nearly as loud as I did. It was the same wherever we went. So why did it seem like I needed it so bad?
That night was different though. You know the feeling? Something repetitive, everything may be going all the fucking same, yet there was a crazy static charge to the air. It was at CBGBs. We played through the same set, my throat had gotten the same scratchiness as it always does, singing in a smoky club. The crowd seemed more excited that night, though, slamming to the music. In the hype of the moment as the last song ended, I leapt off the stage into the closely-knit people slamming and head banging in the mosh pit. I could feel the hands passing me down the line like a joint, as the last note screeched into the mic. Right as it ended, though, my eyes met those of a girl, and the world stopped. I know what a cliche that is, but it's true. The crowd was in the moment of reverence after a song ends and right before they start screaming. The band had silenced their instruments, and the moshers held me still. It was static. It was electric.
And suddenly the place exploded in noise, and I floated back to the stage. The band was screaming back at the crowd, rousing them up as they left the stage. I put the mic back in the stand, all the while scanning the haze for that girl. She was nowhere.
After we had cleaned up, the band split up. I made my way out the back exit, shivering in surprise at the crispness of the fall night. It had been a good show. The audience seemed to like us, and I liked the club. Plus there had been that girl...
I rubbed my hands together, trying to warm them. My gloves had no fingertips on them. It helped warm my hands when smoking and playing the guitar, but for anything else they were useless. I was rarely found without one or the other though, so…I blew on my bare fingertips and took out a cigarette. Fiddling around for my matches, I realized I had used up the pack this morning.
"Shit!" I muttered, about to take the cigarette out of my mouth. Just then though, I heard a click, and saw a hand holding a lighter to the cig.
"Need a light?" Following the arm down I saw her. The girl. I held my breath, in spite of myself. She wasn't beautiful, bleached blond hair cut sloppy and shorter in back, brown, wide-set eyes, round face. And short, nearly half a foot shorter than me, and I'm not that tall myself. Still...
I looked back to the cigarette I still had in my mouth, the lighter she still held in her hand. She lit it, and I breathed in the welcome smoke.
"Thanks," I said, unsure of what to do. She nodded.
"Those things will kill you someday, you know," she said bluntly, putting the lighter back in her pocket. I looked at her in disbelief and the hair on the back of my neck bristled in automatic defense. The girl who had just lit the thing telling me off for smoking them? Searching her face, I saw no hint of sarcasm, though.
"Well something will eventually," I finally replied.
"Hmm." She grinned, a kind of ironic, half smile. "I'm April." She held out her hand. I felt my muscles relax a bit.
"Roger."
She nodded acknowledgement, and started walking off. I just stood there, bewildered, watching her back slowly recede. She had a strangely confident air around her, and for the first time in my life, I found myself scared of a girl.
Just then though, she stopped and turned around. "Coming?" she asked defiantly. I took a drag and hurried to catch up.
END VERSE I