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Anonymous Wed 28 Aug 2024 02:46:56 No.68655213 Report

>Makeup goes on neat and quick. I blink a few times to make sure the mascara is set properly and not blinding me. Same every day. I stare at myself in the mirror. Not too shabby. Hair short, uniform on and wings nice. At least I'm healthy.
>Physically.
>I feel the seethe of rage flash for a moment at the mere thought. Fat lot of good keeping myself well if my insides all rot out from the way I have to live. I take a deep breath and stare down at my sink. Over three years now. The beach, the breakup and his disappearance. Three. Goddamned. Years.
>And I'm still right here. I feel a sickening sense of pride take me as I focus on the statement. Wrong. He was wrong and I'm proving that. Every day. Every. Single. Day. For. YEARS!
>My hands are shaking. Still raw. Nothing changes, day in day out. Wake up. Go suffer at the hands of my corporate overlords. Get changed. Go play music.
>Repeat.
>It's got me here. Got me to where I stand. A decent apartment. Still pretty decent friends from highschool. My parents don't hate me. Still even talk to Naser sometimes even if I can't stand his wife.
>Why? WHY!?
>I"m gripping at the edges of the sink, heaving. WHY CAN'T I JUST BE HAPPY!? I WON. FUCK!
>The flash of rage lights all my nerves. It hurts to be this mad. It tears me from the inside out. It's pointed at nowhere and nothing. Boiling and searing my very being.
>I cough and retch. Finally starting to feel the wave crash back down. I remember and bottle this. I keep it for when it can come out. Seems the lids not on quite as tight as it should be.
>I take another pull of cool, clean air. I'm good. I'll move through this. I know where to let this out and who is the stem from it. I'm Fang, the kickass enbie rockstar. Not letting a man dictate my mental state. No sir.

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Anonymous Wed 28 Aug 2024 02:48:46 No.68655246 Report

Quoted By: >>68655271 >>68655287 >>68655333

>>68655213
>Finally it settles back into the little jar it gets to live inside. I'm ready for the day. A bright smile for all the shitbags barking orders at me at the corner store and a nice wide net to load all my frustrations at them into the canon to be fired tonight.
>Life's good. Enough.
>I step out into my room, almost a mirror of my bedroom in my parent's place. Posters strewn, messy and lived-in. No chalk walls that shit's a pain but I have enough spare journals to scrawl should the need arise.
>It's beyond comforting. Normal and true to me. My nerves un-twist as I walk through the place, grabbing my wallet and keys as I go. Just a small meltdown, nothing serious. Nothing the ptero-terror can't handle. I smile at my wordplay and push out through the door and head downstairs.
>Got a cheap van from a police auction. Thing's probably seen more blow than a hooker with no teeth but it's clean now. And it runs. And was under four figures.
>I start the thing to life and whip it to work. Rocksco comes into view a few minutes later. Another day of snout to the grindstone. What a jouyous life I'm blessed with.
>I pull into the back, parking in my usual and trotting on into work. I clock in and zone out. I get talked to but do my utmost to not register any words that aren't imperative to keeping my job. Thankfully my manager is short-sighted so I get to hang on my phone a long while, texting between Trish and Reed.
>Simple jokes, shit talking the venues, sometimes Reed spews out some conspiracy theory or otherwise lunatic speech to laugh at. It's a phenomenal time waster. My phone dings to let me know I'm free. I'm let out with no struggle. Guess I did good enough today.
>I'm into the van and check the place we're on for today. Trish is a hell of a manager. We get paid peanuts, sure but she keeps us on rotating gigs. Owe her so much. Can't ever pay her back after having to come crawling back to her after…

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Anonymous Wed 28 Aug 2024 02:50:36 No.68655287 Report

Quoted By: >>68655317

>>68655246
>I shake my head. Not now. We've got a venue to shred. Park, this time. Small gathering for some local office space and we got roped in to play a bit between bigger names. Pays pretty damned good this time, too. My mouth waters at the thought of another full freezer of the good stuff. Calm, killer. Calm.
>I'm off like a bolt to the park across town. Takes a bit, a good twenty minute drive. Gives me lots of time to blast music loud enough to harm my eardrums. One of the other good things about this clunker is that it has non-stock speakers. And they're some powerful bastards. I lean way back and cruise as they do their job.
>The park makes it's presence known as I get closer. Wide and green and lush. Peaceful. Yuck. Would've preferred some sweaty underground joint that holds twenty and was packed to thirty. Real ravers. No matter. Work is work is pay. I spy a nice little spot not too far away from our setup, Reed already doing his magic in the distance I spy. I quickly swap clothes in the van. Baggy band tee and shredded black jeans. Stylish.
>My bass lives in the back floorboard of this van. Thing's too shitty and I live in too good a part of town to have it threatened to be stolen. It's convenient but I'm feeling an upgrade coming down the pipeline. Doubly so if we keep getting gigs that pay like this. Wonder what Trish had to do to grab this? I shudder as my mind takes a dark turn. God I hope not.
>Reed spies me approaching and smiles, shaggily. He's really grown that hair out. Doesn't look too bad all stubbled and gruff. Still strikes me odd that he doesn't have a girl hanging off his arm by this point. Not my place to pry. I smile at him back.
>He speaks, a touch of vocal fry. "Nice to see you early. You see Trish?"
>I shake my head no and begin the process of getting my bass into the speakers, testing the sound system. "Haven't seen her yet. She text?"

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Anonymous Wed 28 Aug 2024 02:52:10 No.68655317 Report

Quoted By: >>68655358

>>68655287
>Reed simply shrugs at me and takes a moment to dig his phone out. I stare out in the meantime to our intended audience. Bunch of suits. Wonder how they'll react to us melting their faces off. I chuckle imagining them moshing. Stranger things, yeah?
>In the distance I see Trish's little car pulling up. There my girl is. She's in a rush, as always and threatens to mow over some pedestrians as she finds a spot. I clear my throat to get Reed's attention and point him her way. We share a nod and keep focusing on our little setup.
>She approaches, her own bass in hand and synth machine at the ready. Still dislike the thing but damn it makes us sound good. Turns out double bass works just goddamned fine you-
>Deep breath. Not now. Hold.
>The last of the touches set on my end I leave it to Reed to get the rest in order. I shoot the shit with Trish while he fiddles with the tall speakers.
>"Busy?" I float.
>She groans. "God you can't imagine. Good news, though. Got more like this lined up." She smiles widely at me as she peeks up under her longer locks. Feels like I'm the only one that went shorter.
>A deep sense of accomplishment hits. It's paying off. Change comes slow but I can feel it. Feel the baby steps turning to giant leaps. God that air tastes good.
>My phone comes out to check in on how much time we have. Fifteen minutes give or take. Wonder if I can sneak into the buffet. I squint at the thing and see it's mostly devoid of patrons. Fuck it I'm starving. I hoof it over and keep my head down. Look like you belong and you can get away with murder.
>Plate cleaned and belly yelling at me for standing while eating I maneuver back a few minutes later. Wonder if I can crash these places more often. I let out a little burp as it settles deep. I catch a couple of chuckles from Reed as he notices I'm returning a few chicken-legs heavier. And a few ribs. And some shrimp. Sausage too.

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Anonymous Wed 28 Aug 2024 02:53:53 No.68655358 Report

Quoted By: >>68655388

>>68655317
>Hell of a day to be Fang Aaron. I return to the full setup ready and live. I take my place as Trish walks us through our warmup. Tune and check to make sure nothing breaks or snaps. We're good and perfectly on time. Practice makes perfect and she's been doing this almost every day for three years.
>The set kicks off with some of our songs and I stoke my soul with my bottled emotions. It's beyond catharsis. I belt out as hard as I can. Play angrily and dripping with blazing animosity.
>The audience is somewhat into it. Best we can hope for we're a bit experimental but a few heads bob along. Feels amazing. Top of the world. Wonder if how amplified this will be when I stand on stage. I peer out to my captive audience and spy a lone figure at the buffet.
>Something's wrong.
>I'm not certain what. Our next song's counted off before I can figure out why that guy picking at the buffet is putting a pit into my stomach. Screw him I'm here to play. I push the thought away as best I can but it simply refuses to be placed backseat. I keep stealing glances at the guy as the song goes. He's not wearing a suit.
>In fact he's in a shredded hoodie and jeans. Could pass as homeless. That black beanie sells it. Fibers poking out the top and all. To a horrid degree. Almost like he can't afford anything better.
>"He."
>Why do I know it's a man? I look at the form again as I play. I can only see his back but something inside rings out. Screams at me. I know he's a he. I just do. Wide shoulders, square chest. He.
>But I can't be sure until they turn around. But I am sure. The hell is wrong with me?
>The music takes precedence. I don't move my gaze but it takes slot two of my conscious. I'm not fucking this. Not on my life, not on Trish's and by God not on his
>Another huge flare of anger takes me mid song. It surprises even me as I push it into musical excellence. The well it draws from is nowhere familiar to me. No matter that one needs emptying too, turns out. I keep going

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Anonymous Wed 28 Aug 2024 02:55:05 No.68655388 Report

Quoted By: >>68655429

>>68655358
>Song two up and our set has one remaining. The mystery man turns slightly as he ends the buffet. I squint and peer. Why do I give a shit? I don't even like guys. Not anymore. Not after him. No.
>Scruffy short beard. I look harder. I want him to turn. Show me.
>As if on command he turns to walk to the end of the area. Pointing is body straight at me.
>Time stops.
>My nightmare manifest. He's unmistakable. His frame. His jaw, despite the fluff covering it. His face. His eyes. His head.
>Anon Y. Mous walks from the end of the line away from the seated crowd.
>I slowly watch as he does, seemingly also stealing from the buffet. He doesn't even look my way. I feel a horde of emotions at the gate. They wait impatiently as raw anger has main stage. I fuel all of it I can into the song as we count down.
>Maybe I'll forget once it's over. Maybe I WON'T want to stomp over to him and tear his eyes out of his head. Who knows? Maybe I won't even be Fang Aaron anymore when this song ends.
>Fate has a funny way of sneaking up on you. Silent and quick I find it's dropped a slew of problems right on top of me. The set ends and there I stand. The same as ever. Ready for blood.
>I'll just ignore him. Nothing changes now that he's here. I'll go on with my life and he'll just go on with his. I gaze over to him, pulling the image into my mind. What he should be.
>He should be a shredded douchebag. He should be having a good time wasting his twenties and living to regret it down the line. He should be happy in spite of everything. He has to be. Or why would I still hate him?
>Trish snaps her fingers in front of my face. "Hey. Focus." I clear my head and look out to the crowd. They're...happy. I can't share it. All I can think of is him. His spitting on my very essence. Fuck it. Fuck this. I can't let it stand anymore. I unwrap my bass strap and almost plant it into Trish.

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Anonymous Wed 28 Aug 2024 02:57:00 No.68655429 Report

Quoted By: >>68655466

>>68655388
>"Take over for me for a sec. Sorry." She huffs but steps forward, putting on her best 'buy my shit' stance and shills to the crowd.
>My steps turn into a march. I have to remind myself to not hurt him. To not just plant his dumb skull into the dirt next to the bench he's sat on and stomp until I see pink. It's the only thought I have.
>I stop a few feet in front of him as he eats, looking down. Now that I'm this close I get a better look at the guy. Gray tee, faded green zip up hoodie. Jeans that are more hole than pants. All thin as paper. All almost as old as he is.
>But that's not what strikes me. What does is his face. It's bone and angular. As if he's not eaten in months. Not to mention what's across it. Scars. Not just a few either. Not the kind you get by shaving poorly. Knife. Bullet. Claw.
>It's almost like life itself is worn on his face. Every moment there on display. It's almost hideous. He chews as he brings a piece of meat to his face.
>Still he has yet to even notice me. I'm within striking distance and he doesn't look up. I know he can see my boots. I'm standing in front of him. This rat. He won't even do this!?
>I clear my throat. Finally he points his eyes up. They start to widen as he sees me.
>I snarl out. "Long time no see."
>He slowly places the food on the bench next to him. Patting his hands on his knees as his face lowers. He's angry? HE'S angry!?
>"What!?" He barks back at me. This low-down, son of a bitch.
>I can't believe him. I thought maybe he'd apologize. Hell even maybe deep down he'd feel regret, feel anything. I'm over it. It's time to get it out.
>"Fuck. You." I start and don't stop. Can't stop.
>"Fuck everything about you. Fuck you for what you said. Fuck you for running and most certainly a BIG Fuck You for being wrong." I get smug. Real dirty and smug.

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Anonymous Wed 28 Aug 2024 02:58:44 No.68655466 Report

Quoted By:

>>68655429
>"I'm everything you thought I couldn't be. Non-binary. Rockstar. Happy." I find myself almost touching him as I step forward and point angrily. The rise continues.
>"And look at you." I slap his shoulder. He flinches as I do so. I smirk wickedly at my power over him. God I'm riding this high.
>"Lost a fight to a blender?" I spit out in vile malice.
>"Got what you deserved. Honestly better than what you deserved. I hoped to see a picture of you on the news face-down in a ditch." I lean in and almost whisper to him as I speak.
>I step back to view his face. Ready for the fight. I find his eyes at my shoes. His shoulders dropped and still. I brace for the storm. I know his fight. I've been at the end of it.
>It doesn't come. He just slowly reaches over to his plate, picking it up and looking at me once. It's the first time I'd seen his eyes.
>They're filled with a pit of hurt that even threatens to tear me into. Sunken and exhausted beyond limit. Any light in them long-since dimmed. They speak a volume to me in just the one moment I'd met them. These aren't eyes worn by a living man.
>He takes his food and just...leaves. No words. No fighting back. No apology. He just simply walks away. Slowly and limping. Fuck. Limping.
>I can't move my eyes off him until he's rounded a corner out of sight. The hate I had starts to settle out now that it's been spoken. A lining I'd not seen before cuts through me.
>Regret. Deep and dark regret. I hurt. Why? Why does this hurt? I just told him off like I'd wanted to for YEARS!
>My heart aches.
>I hate him. I hate him so very much but for some godforsaken reason watching him limp away like a scolded puppy makes me feel bad!? More emotions enter to confuse further.
>I have every right to want him dead or maimed. I feel almost disgust at him now. Sorrow, fury and longing. Why didn't you say anything back?

(alright, almost done)

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Anonymous Wed 28 Aug 2024 03:01:49 No.68655529 Report

Quoted By:

>>68655466
>Even just a slur. Something. I don't care I just wanted to hear it. Hear that you're alive. Just the one question and nothing else.
>I clench harder than I have in a long time.
>A voice rips me out of my trance.
>"Fang?" Trish is pulling on my hand to turn me.
>"Anon's back." I stare into the distance as I speak flatly.

fin.

shoutout to writeranon for writing this fic, it was a fun collab! I was gonna post this yesterday, but held off after hearing he wasn't gonna be here tonight.