Author's note: Hey everyone! Just dropping by to leave you another chapter! This is seriously a filler background chapter. Next chapter we are back to Kurt and Blaine! :D
In this one, there might be some misconceptions going on about the music business. Do I know anything about the music business? No, but let's just pretend for the sake of this fic that whatever is said is true in this verse about the music industry.
Song explanation:
(Nick and Jeff) (Parentheses/Bold)
Blaine (Bold)
Hope you like it and it makes sense! Let me know if it doesn't!
Again, no beta. All mistakes are my own.
Disclaimer: I own nothing, nothing, nothing. No profit made etc. See Chapter 1 for more elaborate disclaimer.
~C.
(Chapter 3)
Dude, where are all your piercings?
Did you take them out, again?
Why is your hair gelled down?
Well, at least he isn't in capris.
Wes, I thought you threw out all his suspenders! You missed a pair!
Those were the words that his band mates had greeted him with and those words were also swirling around in his head as the poor musician wiped at his teary eyes. Blaine sniffed as he washed the gel out of his hair. He didn't like his curly hair loose and bouncing everywhere, but that's how it had to be. Whenever he was Blaine, lead singer of 'Pav's Last Song,' he had to have the whole bad-boy, rocker image in full effect. That meant, no bowties, no suspenders, no polo shirts, no capris, no loafers, and absolutely no gel.
Get it together man!
This isn't Warbler practice anymore.
After washing out his raspberry, hair gel, Blaine tried to pat down his fluffy hair with some paper towels. He sighed when it didn't look like it would cooperate with him. Looking at himself in the bathroom mirror, Blaine grimaced. He had his left eyebrow pierced, his tongue pierced, and an industrial bar piercing through his right ear. He never wanted this; he never wanted this image. When he was at home or going out without his band mates around, he made sure none of those pieces of jewelry were anywhere on his head. However, whenever he was involved with anything to do with the band, he had to wear them. According to Wes, it gave him more of a grunge look. But Blaine drew the line at tattoos. Those were permanent…and they hurt!
My mother would say I look like a deviant.
For practice today, he wore a solid, purple T-shirt, skinny blue jeans, and black vans (his suspenders had been confiscated by Wes). It wasn't like the clothing he and the band wore to maintain their image was heinous; he just liked his own taste in clothing too. What was wrong with suspenders and bowties, or obnoxiously colorful pants that matched your sunglasses?
"Blaine, you ready to prac…" Trent trailed off as he barged into the studio's bathroom. "Blaine? Are you all right?"
Blaine wiped at his eyes quickly and gave his friend a practiced smile. "Yeah, just got…gel…in my eye." As if trying to prove his point, he grabbed one of the paper towels and dabbed at his eyes. "Hehe see? Clumsy me."
Trent looked at his friend for a minute, and then he shrugged. "If you say so. Come on, Wes and David are going at it again. You need to break it up so we can practice."
Blaine frowned, did no one really care that the image for their band was fake? Was everyone really so focused on becoming 'rock stars' that they were willing to compromise who they really were and the type of music they actually cared for?
Warblers…what have we become?
Blaine followed Trent out of the bathroom, and sure enough, there they were. Wes (the band's image consultant) and David (the band's manager) were glaring at each other. Jeff (the band's lead guitarist/back-up vocalist) was sitting cross-legged on the floor and sipping a juice box as he watched the two guys argue with one another. Nick (the band's bassist/back-up vocalist) was randomly plucking strings on his bass as he waited for the two arguers to shut the hell up already. Trent (the band's drummer) bit his lip as he looked over at Blaine nervously, his eyes pleading for Blaine to get their friends to stop fighting.
Blaine rolled his eyes, "Hey! Wes, David, what's the problem now?"
Both guys stopped their arguing and turned to Blaine. The curly-haired boy narrowed his eyes when he noticed his two friends had shifted their eyes back to one another, silently asking if they should inform Blaine about what their little tiff was about.
Oh great, this can't be about me again!
"Wes…what?" Blaine gritted out. He seriously hated when they made decisions about him without even informing him, which actually happens more often than he'd like.
"All right, before you say no to this, hear us out." David began.
I already don't like this.
"The band should wear eyeliner…ow! David!" Wes glared at the manager who slapped his arm.
David glared back, "You don't just blurt out something like that!"
Blaine's jaw dropped. "Please, tell me you're joking!"
Wes sighed, "Look, it's just something new to try out. I've been researching some new looks and a fair few have started using eyeliner. It's very tasteful and really helps draw attention to a performer's face. Sebastian thinks it's a good…"
Blaine's eyes darkened, "Excuse you? I thought we were done taking performance advice from that prick."
Jeff tilted his head at Blaine, "No, YOU were done with Sebastian. Just because you guys had a falling out, doesn't mean we all did. So far, his and his dad's ideas have helped us get to where we are. We can't just cut him off, he was our friend before he was ever your boyfriend."
Blaine's eyebrow twitched. "You call him cheating on me a falling out?"
Nick scoffed, "Dude, why the fuck does it matter anymore? It was high school; no one cares what happened in high school." Nick sat up from the couch he had been laying on, "And hasn't he made up for all that? We live in swanky apartments, we get to play music for money, and we have people fawning over us. We may only play locally, but if you get over your little grudge with Smythe, I bet we can get his dad to book us in bigger venues. Can't you just make up and go back to banging each other again?"
"I did forgive him, the first time. Then the second time I realized monotonous relationships were non-existent in his world." Blaine forced out. It still hurt to remember that Sebastian cheated on him, twice. He was not interested in being cheated on a third time.
David narrowed his eyes at Nick, "Hey! I do my best!"
They've stopped listening to me, haven't they?
"Can we please stop fighting?! This is turning into a Kangaroo Court all over again!" Trent pleaded.
Jeff looked puzzled, "I never know what that means."
Nick rolled his eyes, "Jeff, NO ONE knows what that means."
Oh yeah, I'm just here for decoration.
Blaine placed his hands over his face and rubbed the heels of his palms into his eyes. He tried to block out his friends bickering at each other. Why did they have to follow anyone's trend in the first place? Why couldn't they just be who they were? Well, if they were to try and make it as anything other than this alternative type band, apparently they wouldn't make it very far. The music business already had great solo artists, they had enough boy bands; they had enough people knocking down their doors claiming to be the next great thing. Their best bet would be to try making it as a powerhouse, rock group, not a cheesy, boy band. In any case, that's what Sebastian's father had told them, but what made him such an expert on the subject anyways?
Doing something for the love of it shouldn't make me feel this…empty.
When Blaine lowered his hands, he realized the five other people in the room were staring at him. "Nice of you to join us again, Blaine. We all took a vote while you were…meditating…or whatever that was you were doing." Wes stated.
The miserable musician frowned. "Oh."
Wes smiled proudly, "It's been decided. For our next performance, you'll be wearing eyeliner. If it bodes over well with the crowd, then we'll keep it. Right?"
"Don't care." Nick quipped.
"I think it's a reasonable compromise for the group." David placated.
"Sounds like fun!" Jeff said, a smile on his face.
Trent looked sheepish, "Can't you just try it, Blaine? Please?"
Blaine looked around at his friends, anxiously awaiting his answer. Every time an aspect of himself was stripped from him, something would break inside Blaine. Slowly, he's been bent and twisted into becoming whatever 'Pav's Last Song' needed him to be. It was like he was supposed to be thankful for the chiseling his being has taken; parts of himself were chipped away over the years when all he wanted to do was scream for it to stop. However, his friends were counting on him to try and help make the group as successful as it could be. They chose him to be the one to help them get to the big time. It was like Dalton all over again. His friends trusted him to take them where they needed to go. They could have easily chosen Sebastian or anyone else for that matter, but they didn't; everyone had faith in Blaine. How could he even think about letting them down?
The singer put a hand on Trent's shoulder and set up his façade once again. "Sure, we're in this together. Let's just finish up our practice, okay? How about afterwards we all go out for a night on the town, huh? We haven't done that in months."
"Nope, gotta plan your outfits for the next gig." Wes said distractedly.
"I have a business meeting with the owner of this bar I'm trying to get you guys a gig at." David announced, looking smugly over at Nick.
"I have a date!" Jeff bounced in his seated position on the floor.
"I just don't want to." Nick said, not even looking at Blaine.
"Um…sorry, parents want to have dinner. Another time?" Trent said sadly.
Blaine's fake smile never faltered. It was a hollow smile that never reached his cheeks, and yet, it was one he was used to gracing his features. He walked over to his microphone stand and looked at his band mates. "That's cool. No big. Ready to practice?"
The three other members glanced at each other warily before gingerly making their way over to their respective instruments. Wes and David pulled up chairs to play the part of the audience. "What song do you want to warm-up with?"
"Can we warm-up with a Katy Perry or a P!nk song, maybe? Just once?" Blaine asked, like he always did. He knew he'd get the same answer.
David shook his head, "That's pop music. You know we don't play that."
"Come on Blaine, stop messing around. We're trying to get the set-list ready for our next performance. Just pick something reasonable to sing; whatever you choose you end up nailing anyways." Wes chastised, and yet complimented at the same time. Blaine never understood how he could do that.
Blaine ran a hand through his bushy hair. "Whatever you say. Nick, Jeff, start off 'Playing God' from Paramore, please."
Jeff saluted him, "All righty then."
Nick gave a half-hearted thumbs up.
In the next instant, Blaine heard the instrumentals start. Not only that, but he heard David whisper to Wes, "What's with his fetish for singing songs by female artists?" However, Blaine ignored them. He instead chose to close his eyes and let the music flow around him.
Can't make my own decisions
Or make any with precision
Well maybe you should tie me up
So I don't go where you don't want me
Blaine opened his eyes and sang the lyrics with the same amount of passion he would with any song. His eyes trained on the two 'audience' members.
You say that I've been changing
that I'm not just simply aging
Yeah how could that be logical?
Just keep on cramming ideas down my throat
Wo-oh-ho-oh
There was one thing about Blaine that had yet to be changed or taken away from him. Even if he couldn't SAY what he feeling, he always knew how to express his feelings through song.
You don't have to believe me
But the way I, way I see it
Next time you point a finger
I might have to bend it back
Or break it, break it off
Next time you point a finger
I'll point you to the mirror
David was looking at Blaine and then scribbling some notes down on his notepad. No doubt critiquing the band's performance so it could be discussed after their warm-up was over.
If God's the game you're playing
Well we must get more acquainted
Because it has to be so lonely
To be the only one who's holy
Wes had stood up a minute or so ago, now he was walking in a semi-circle around the band. He was looking at their placement, the effectiveness of their outfits, and probably calculating in the added effectiveness of the impending, unnecessary eyeliner.
It's just my humble opinion
But it's one that I believe in
You don't deserve a point of view
If the only thing you see is you
Wo-oh-ho-oh
Blaine sent a glare towards the overly observant Wes, pent up anger burning behind his hazel-eyes from constantly bottling up his emotions. Wes didn't seem to notice.
You don't have to believe me
But the way I, way I see it
Next time you point a finger
I might have to bend it back
Or break it, break it off
Next time you point a finger
I'll point you to the mirror
During the instrumental break, when Blaine closed his eyes once again to bop his head back and forth to the beat, Trent shared a look with Jeff. Out of everyone involved with 'Pav's Last Song,' Jeff and Trent were the only ones who were aware of the fact that Blaine was miserable. Unlike the other three, who were either completely oblivious or just didn't care; Jeff and Trent recognized the choice of song for what it really was. An extension for how Blaine was currently feeling at that moment.
This is the last second chance
(I'll point you to the mirror)
I'm half as good as it gets
(I'll point you to the mirror)
I'm on both sides of the fence
(I'll point you to the mirror)
Without a hint of regret
I'll hold you to it
When Blaine opened his eyes again, Wes stopped in his tracks. He looked back over at David, who had an equal look of disbelief on his face, and the two had one of their silent conversations.
I know you don't believe me
But the way I, way I see it
Next time you point a finger
I might have to bend it back
Or break it, break it off
Next time you point a finger
I'll point you to the mirror
The manager and the consultant had looks on their faces that showed they were impressed. Blaine had a spark of hope ignite in him. Were they finally getting the message?
I know you won't believe me
But the way I, way I see it
Next time you point a finger
I might have to bend it back
Or break it, break it off
Next time you point a finger
I'll point you to the mirror
When the song ended, Wes and David stood up to clap respectively. Blaine felt something in him fluff up happily.
Maybe they will understand.
Maybe they DO see what all these pretenses are doing to me.
Blaine opened his mouth to say something, but David beat him to it. "Now, THAT was a performance. I mean, you're a great singer Blaine, don't get me wrong, but the passion behind that song was phenomenal! Who knew you could act?"
Act?
Wh-what are they talking about?
Wes smiled amused, "It was good. In the middle of the song, I personally thought you went a little overboard with the emotion. Then again, people pay to see a show."
They don't get it; they still don't get it.
"When did you learn to cry on command like that?" David asked.
Blaine snapped his head up, "C-cry?"
Wes rolled his eyes, "Yeah, yeah, we're all impressed. Just don't do it for the next performance. I don't want your eyeliner to get all runny."
He wasn't even paying attention to his friends around him anymore. Blaine was still trying to process what his manager had said.
Crying?
I'm…crying?
Reaching his hand up, Blaine wiped the tips of his fingers across his cheekbone. Sure enough, his fingertips were wet with tears. Blaine was stunned; he hadn't even felt his eyes get watery or noticed his vision blurring. Had he been bottling his emotions up for so long that now they've begun spilling out without his permission?
A hand on his shoulder made him look up with wide eyes, "Hey, you okay?" Jeff inquired.
Blaine's automatic response, "Of course."
Not in the least.
A/N: That song was "Playing God" by Paramore. One of my faves. Aww poor Blainers, sometimes peer pressure is a hard thing to resist. Please review and let me know what you think. ;)