yrics to:
The Antidote— Simple Plan (2022)
The Only Exception— Paramore (2010)
And the sketch was done.
She stretched her hands out, holding the sketchpad that laid her concept storyboard of their play before squinting. The lines were barely visible already, and it was sure that in a few days' time, the pencil lead would become nothing more than a trace only she could outline with her memory.
Dropping the thing on the bed, Luan furrowed her brow. Now, where the heck was that pen?
Oh, right. Because she was justsogenerous.
Luan grumbled under her breath, lifting herself off the bunk just enough to yank Luna's backpack from above. It's so easy to forget that you borrowed something from someone, huh, Lunes?
She reclined herself against the pillow and settled the backpack on her lap, unzipping it.
Oh. Luan furrowed her eyebrows, her lips turning into a frown as she was greeted with the interior of Luna's bag. To think her bed was messy as it was. Balls of scrunched up papers and uncapped pens jutted out. If they were upside down, it would've torn holes at the bottom of her bag! It's a health hazard!
Then again, Luna would probably consider a torn bagrocker fashion.
Luan spilled all its contents on the floor, two pens rolling under the bed frame and, she could've sworn she saw the flash of blue and black among those two.
Pausing, she looked down at the mess she's made. Sure beats having to surf through the stuffed bag.
She hunched over and skimmed through it. Luan scanned the mess of the floor and sucked her lips in. Paper here… paper there… she brushed it aside. A handwritten music sheet on a yellow pad, and uh... a doodle of her and Sam kissing?
Ew.Luan grimaced, before cautiously taking another glance, afraid that if she stared long enough, she'd get eyeball STDs.
Eh. It was far from being close competition to Full Gang, but still. Not bad.
She folded the sheet and inserted it into one of Luna's notebooks. Imagine what her locker looked like. Luan shuddered.Thankfully we're on different halls.
Luan glanced at the books, notebooks and booklets in front of her, lying toppled upon one another. She'd have to declutterall thisjust to look for her sketch pad.
Might as well. It'd only take a jiffy.
On second thought, it didnot.
Sat on the floor were neatly aligned black, blue, and red pens. All the stray papers and trash either unfolded to the side or tossed in their garbage can.
Thescanning-through-Luna's-notebooks.Not arranging and finding the pen. That only took two minutes in.
Luan narrowed her eyes, glaring at Mr. Coconuts on the bed.But sh.
Don't forget to leave out stray test papers with barely passing marks on it. Luan inserted them all in their respective subject notebooks because she's the best sister finally, leaving the pens on the ground, she shoved all seven purple notebooks into the bag.
Her finger brushed over the back of the bag. A rectangle lump, under what seemed to be a zipped secret pocket. A tinge of excitement coursed through her veins. Oh, a secret book? Out of curiosity, Luan fished through the long slit, searching, digging for the object. Her fingers grazed the tip of what felt like a cardboard cover, and she yanked it out, a giggle bubbling up her throat. It better not be one of her Playgirl mags again—
Her chest hollowed. It wasn't.
Notthat she wanted it to be… but it would be funny if it was.
Luan scanned the cover. Black and white, labeled with none other than Luna's handwriting.
She opened the front page.
Her eyes flashed at the word 'missing'.
'Bitterness'?
And what's this?Bud Light?As in the liquor?
Sitting back up on her bed, Luan nabbed Mr. Coconuts for company. Was this another diary?
No... these looked like...songs.
Luna once mentioned how she writes what she calls 'track remedies'. It was how she hurt, it was how she healed. If there's one thing being a roommate of a songwriter and a mentor to a poet taught her, it's that,thisistheir meditation. Their non-verbal expression. Which was why every time Luna sung her a new song, even if it's not really her style, she'd take it in like a sponge; knowing it was the gateway entrance to her soul.
And now she felt awful. There came that sinking feeling in her stomach. She should've be reading this. This was an invasion to her privacy. Why else would she have hidden it in that secret pocket?
Luan glazed her eyes to the lower part of the page, finding three verses scribbled down.Existential crisis. She pinpointed. Everyone goes through this. It's normal... now come on, put it back where it belongs...
But byeveryonemeaning Luna, the same rock star who held a mini concert in the cafeteria just a week ago, and the same one who looked giddy and enthusiastic on her way to her band meeting an hour prior— maybe not.
Then again… she did become de-Lulufor the music industry once.
She darted her eyes from the door, to the book, hearing muffled footsteps and arguing from Lynn and Lucy's wall. Luna was in the garage with her band. She won't come up here until five.
Just one page. One page, and you're done.Her thoughts said.
And she was weak to curiosity, her biggest temptation. So, Luan settled back, and opened the pages up.
Just one.
I don't remember
Being locked inside a cage
But it feels like forever
Since I've seen the sunrays
I've tried, and tried and now I'm tired
Of always trying to find the words to write
I'm dwelling in a place you'll never find
Unless somebody comes to read my mind
Shaky hands, all I see's the Bud Light
I just wanna say all the words that don't exist
Her eyebrows furrowed.Bud Light.
Feel like if this keeps up, I won't make it out
If it pulls me lower, I might just quit,
No doubt, I'm losing myself
No way out,
Need someone to pull me out
Luan turned to the figure sitting beside her on the bed, greeted with lifeless, wooden eyes of Mr. Coconuts. "My Chemical Romance called; said they wanted their song back." She muttered in his voice, shifting the bag on her lap and unzipping where he sat. "Someone get her a record label at Emo-con or something."
Her face hardened and she turned to glare at him. "This isn't something we should joke about, Mr. C." She hushed, scanning the scribbles over and over again. This is strange. Normally, Luna would've followed a pattern in writing her songs. As she said it herself, it ain't a song if the end verses didn't rhyme.
It was so much easier to laugh at this, if only she didn't know just how expressive Luna truly was in her music.
Not to mention her use of the pronoun,I.Maybe if she used,they,or referred to someone else, she wouldn't bat much of an eye.
She could hear Mr. C in her head."But besides that, what would the chick know about tasting liquor? Heck, you two are only a year apart and even you didn't know what champagne tasted like!"
Her cheeks tingled at the words. Yeah, call her a prude, but it was mom's doing. She had an eagle's eye and sharp nose for that sorta stuff. Her older brother, the uncle she never mentioned, suffered alcohol poisoning in their early teens and didn't survive. They never knew until the night Lori came home from one of her senior parties looking half-baked and reeking of beer.
Luan took a deep breath, warm air pressing at the back of her nostrils. Maybe at the beginning of her rock n' roll journey, she'd considered the prospect of Luna goingallin on it, jumping into the lifestyle of late-night partying and booze and weed… but was it really happeningnow?Right under their noses?
Her eyes scanned above the block of lyrics, finding the date.
This was… aweekago?
A week ago. A week ago, a week ago, a week ago…what were they doing a week ago?
Nah, nothing much she could recall, but one thing did stand out: The last week and the one before that, Luna wasjam-packed, get it?
It was always about the parties, the gigs, and the extra cash to her lately. Not that she could blame her, right after the Goats caught sight of her money safe. That's why you don't underestimateclowns, people.
When they'd pass by the school lobby, she'd have her nose buried in her phone, too deep in her head to even notice—ehem— asisterwho just wanted to wave hi. By the time Leni drove them home, the passenger seat would remain empty, so much so that the twins would fight for it during the entire ride.
She wasn't a sucker for privacy but when it came, well, call her selfish then—for not caring if every single night Luna came back home ready to chuck her boots out. Or for beinghappythat her Luna winds up climbing up her bunk with nothing as much as a grunt before crashing down. That way, it's like she was never even there.
But how did her hectic schedule connect to her existential crisis? Her dates with all these wild drinks?
Wanting to know more, she looked at the page again. Am I just looking into this thing too far?
I've tried, and tried and now I'm tired
Of always trying to find the words to write
Luna wasn't the one to beat around the bush. If she wrote a song, you'd know what it's about just by reading thefirstline.
I just wanna say all the words that don't exist
Luan bit her cheek. She wasn't Dr. Lopez, or Clyde, but think about it: her first words in the book had something along the lines of'running away from myself'. And now this one talked about exhaustion, frustration in writingthings,of words that apparently'don't exist'.
Oh.Oh.
Her lips pursed and her eyebrows set. She knew the feelingalltoo well.
That wasn't the hot issue here though. If this confusion led her to drink like what Uncle Rick did? What're the odds she'd end up just like him?
A cold shudder ran across her back.No.Perhaps the life she was living, bouncing between gigs back and forth led her to such an exposure: the life of rocking, androlling.
Hold that thought.
How could she be sodumb?
What if it was all for show?
Right after that one time she, along with Leni and Lincoln snooped through her diary and found her writing the most reckless alibis, it'd be stupid if she didn't take this with a grain of salt.
"You know what they say, toots." Mr. Coconuts said. "Fool me once, shame on you; Fool me twice, shame on me."
Point in place: Who was Luna to be trusted, right after she lied straight to their faces and thought of it as a thrill for retribution?
Even if it was only a one-time thing, for the laughs.
She out of all people knew how it's like. To have your trust comprised because of a silly joke, but Lunaplayedwith their worry. Tugged at their heart strings all for a kick.
One last song. Luan swallowed through a thick sheen of saliva. If this is still as disturbing as the others, Luna's leaving hernochoice.
Oh, this one had a title.
A shiver ran through her spine. "Play It Down…? A revision ofPlay It Loud?"
Been hearing all those voices as I lay down my bed
Get out of my head,
I wanna get out of my head
Don't remind me of all the words I had said
Get out of my head
Lately, all I've been seein's red
How can I kill you if that meant I'd want me dead?
Play it loud? No, pull it down
Who'd bat an eye if you swallowed it down?
If you play it down, know there's no way out
I hate it, I'd kill it, if there's an escape then tell me how!
Play it off, pull it down
Sorry, I'm sorry for being in doubt
Play it down, know there's no way out
Make it stop, give me another route
In these walls; I am bound.
Bound?Luan swallowed, feeling bile rise up her throat.In what?
She could hear Luna singing this in her mind, to the same tune of "Play It Loud, without the shredding, or the amps. Just the rasp in her voice; the agony in it. Luan breathed in deeply, trying to think through this. There was much more, too much. This didn't feel like her sister anymore. This wasn't Luna, nor is this meant to be her track.
This was her inner demon: The one thing that must've been holding back.
She flipped back to the first page. To the untitled song that first greeted her, then to the second and third. Written in a language Luna and Lucy wrote in fluently: English, with a layer of subliminal meaning. These were more than compositions to them. They were battle cries. Begging lullabies. It didn't need an English grandmaster like Lisa to decipher it.
But there goes the challenge. Words, as vague as these weren't enough to open doors if she did try to read in between the lines, yet beneath these songs was an underlying experience. Could it be the voices she wrote about? Or the Jack that she allegedlydranktoo much of? Maybe it was the way she drowned herself out too much, to forget who she really was?
Luan drew the book to a close. Chewing on her lower lip. Last week's events. Was it all intentional? It had to be if she felt this way, right?
Luan shut the book, shoving it back to where she found it. But she couldn't just tell her upfront, could she? How would Luna react? The last time, she was unfazed–amused, even, considering the opportunity she was given to prank them. But they all considered that a lesson to never snoop at one another's things ever again.
Yet she broke the unspoken ethic again.
Luna wasn't coming up until later, or maybe even tonight. She had thewholeday to mull over her songbook. Maybe then, this would just become a note to keep. A small observation, and a reminder to keep an eye on her roommate- instead of a siren blaring red in her head sayingyou need to talk to her about this otherwise she'd be a goner!
Luan got up with her sketchpad. Until then, she had Lily waiting for her.
She walked to the room by the end of the hall, adjacent and half empty. Lisa was out to a Science convention. Luan glanced at the crib. Leaving only…
"Wuan!"Lily fussed as she walked toward her with a paintbrush and a palette in hand."Wet's draw!"
She could worry about her older sister later. Luan crouched and scooped Lily up in her arms, both of them giggling. "Wet'sup to you too, Lils!"
She bopped the tip of Lily's nose, earning a bubbly laugh. Because this time, it was her turn to play the big sister.
How does somebody write?
Not the way Lily's trying to do in Daycare, nor the way mom typed her columns or Lucy wrote her wicked poems.
The way she had before? In the style ofLuna Loud?
Becauseoh man.Luna sat on one of her amps, scratching her hairline with the tip of her pen. It's been hours since she first started writing, and all she's got were one-liners that don't connect and a throbbing migraine. Great.
That's what you get for spending the last four hours chit-chatting and letting the band host a garage concert.
"Hey, Lunes, how's everything holding up?" Sam's voice echoed from her back.
Bad, brah. Her stomach churned in disappointent. I'mfalling apart.
She slumped as two calloused hands pressed her shoulders. Samreallyknew where her weak spots were. And she knew exactly how to strengthen her with it. "I'm cool, Sam. Just uh… kinda stuck."
Stuck was an understatement. She waslosing it.
"Oh. You sure you don't need any help?"I do.
"No biggie. I'll get through it." Luna insisted, glancing at the rest of the band. Would she, though? "Ey, Sully, Mazzy, have you thought of any good tunes yet?"
Normally, it washerwho had the idea. The entire concept, the whole blueprint of the song in mind. Luna wasn't just an amateur music producer for nothing; she was the engineer of her composition. The architect of its entirety.
"I got this cool chord progression. Check it out." Sully smoothly drifted his fingers through the keyboard, playing a tone on the lower scale.
Luna sat still and listened. She could pick up tunes finely by ear, and create a thorough melody just through a single note. Not even the certifiedbestin the school she's talked to could keep up with that sort of genius, and evensheshocked herself when it'd happen. "That's way too… er,jazzy, dude. That's not the style we're going for."
"What if weadda lil' electric into that bass?" Sam let go of her, giving her own axe a riff. "Hit it Sully!"
That was the importance of a band to her: not mainly about having minds collide into creating one, rather, the division of blending the music together live. They could get a rhythm going all they want. Luna glanced down at her songbook and chewed on her pen. But at the end of the day, it wasLunaand The Moon Goats. Her band. Her songs. The one who approved theirs.
The combination of a low bass and a shredder scratched her ears. She grimaced. It sounded like if a chainsaw grinded along a tree while someone at the back blew a trombone. And that right there, wasoutof her endorsement.
She shut her notebook and looked out at the glass windows of the door. Sundown. Dinner was gonna start soon. And she thought of nothing.
Luna unconsciously chewed on her bottom lip, her eyes glazing over the orange sky. Normally, it'd frustrate her. It challenged her to think harder, and she'd spend hours just chewing her pen, thinking. Looking for how to get creative, or where to find it.
But now, she couldn't quell the ever-growing hollowness in her gut. Now she just wanted to quit thinking. To drop all of this before her brain combusted.
"Everyone, take five."
They all looked at her.
"Dudes," Luna sighed exasperatedly. "It's getting late and uh, I haven't really come up with a lot so," They all looked at her in dismay. "I'm calling it a day."
"Oh, come on, Lunes! This comes naturally for you! Surely you got something still jammed in your noggin'!" Sam teased with a nudge.
Luna shook her head. Maybe somethingwasjammed in her mind. Maybe that's why the juices won't flow out. Maybe that's why she's not as excited or looking forward to it like she was before. In her songs, it didn't have to have a catchy tune to stick into other people's minds, or a song that everybody loved. What mattered was that, they'd serve as the voice others needed to hear, but she didn't evenknowwhat to say.
"Maybe you just need shift a little in style? Diversity's what I'm sayin'." Mazzy sat on one of the amps. "The tension's getting to ya, Lunes. I tell you. I know you care a lot about wanting to give a show, but The Leprechaun's Oir ain't any different from The Burnt Bean, or Bustling Busses you know?"
"I know." Luna grit her teeth.I'm the one who's changed."School's also kinda been over my head lately. That's gotta be it."
"Can't blame you. Trig homework's been clawing up my boot last night." Sully laughed as the rest of them shared a chuckle. "I got it done though in case you just wanna copy off it?"
"Nah, Lise's got me covered." Luna stood up and opened the garage door. Soft sunrays cascading her skin with orange. That was never the issue, and deep inside, she never wanted to face it. "You guys should go. We'll meet again once I get my head sorted out, yeah?
Sam slipped her fingers into Luna's. "You know, if you need somebody, I'm here."
Luna turned to her with a warm smile. She was supposed to be a star in the rising, yet why did it feel like otherwise? "Yeah."
To tell the truth, she wanted to hold this meeting off if only she hadn't been thinking more about seeing Sam again. And hey, an irresponsible part of hers thought that maybe, having other minds collide would get her own shifting. Maybe a gig this big would get that block out once and for all.
Seems not.
"Just hit us up if you change plans." Sully's car keys jingled as he unlocked the parked red Mustang from their sidewalk.
"Sure." Luna wore a ghost of a smile, watching as he and Mazzy entered the car, before darting her eyes back to Sam. "You should get home too."
"Right." With a signal that her girlfriend didn't really need any support, Sam pecked her cheek goodbye, before getting into the backseat, driving off as they went.
Luna slumped and entered the garage, locking herself in for a few more minutes. It's beenweeks.Days and nights, she spent with a half-empty note on her phone, trying to think of something new.Milkingher mind with the juice it wouldn't leak.
She plugged her lying axe into an amp and strummed a chord. Butwhy?Why was she like this?
It wasn't her to stay in a rutthislong. One day, two days. Fine, but this time, the block was overstaying its welcome. Her fingers instinctively pressed and curled as the amp buzzed into her empty mind. Maybe it intended to stay this time. Heck, itgrewthe longer it lingered.
"Rock n' roll's running through my veins,"She began strumming an all too familiar song."But lately it's been chippin' off and I'm goin' insane."
Yeah, lame at best.
It was still something though. But if renditions of her old songs were all she could do, then throw her away and call her a sack of wasted potential. Luna let out a low grumble, unplugging her axe defeatedly and dragging herself back into the house. She just kept wasting time.
And her potential too.