Now that is interesting. A band of freshmen? Already making rounds enough for an ad in an official Volcano University community page? Anon barely hides his interest. But a second later in his mind a memory appears – about the other band. He remembers, and winces from the pain felt in his shin. That band... As much as he doesn't want to remember it, it made rounds in the community too, and was supported enough to make their first show inside the school theater. The result, though... Anon shook his head, brushing away this memory, trying to focus on that band “Tennant”.

Leo's expression is filled with sadness, the reason of which Anon can't properly understand. Does he know the band? If he does, that means the band makes some poor-quality shit and is nothing more than a laughing stock for the university, and he is genuinely worried for their wellbeing. Maybe he even orchestrated all this, from the ad to the actual show. And what if he doesn't? If he doesn't, then why does he have such a sorrowful face, as if he's burying his dead relative?

Anon kept silently questioning Leo, still sitting with a droopy face, while Sage, sitting right beside him, felt excited – the same amount of excitement she showed when she realized that she now has a human friend. A second later, Anon tossed all the questions he had in his head aside. Asking wouldn't hurt . – he thought, and then asked Leo:

— Do you know the band?

— Yes, I do. – Leo said, a bit hesitant, looking under his eyebrows at Anon. – It's hard not to know them.

Anon barely bears the sadness in his friend's voice.

— I was definitely missing out. – Anon said to himself.

— Pardon? – Leo asked.

— Nothing. – Anon said. – Are they that bad?

— What? Of course not! – Leo said, surprised.

— Then what's up with the sad face? What gives?

Leo sighed.

— It's just... My relationship with their frontsman... It's...

Leo doesn't find enough strength to continue. Sage wraps him in her tight hug, emitting powerful invisible rays of sympathy. She could kill a vampire with how much light and warmth she emits. – Anon thought, then smiled for a second. – She’s just like The Radiance! After all these years and doubts, he still proudly bears his crown of “humor that only the one saying the joke can laugh at”.

— Forget about her! – Sage says, patting Leo on his head.

Her? A frontsman is a woman? Anon's interest grew ten thousand-fold.

— Leo, can you tell me about the frontsman? – Anon asked.

Sage looked at him with a bit of irritation. She definitely has a personal grudge against that person.

— I don't think he wants to, Anon. – She said.

— No, no, it's fine, I'll tell him. – Leo said, pulling himself out of her hug.

— Are you sure? – Sage asked, worried.

— Yeah. It wouldn't hurt. Besides, Anon is looking rather interested.

Sage sighed and made a face that clearly told Anon – she won't interfere. Leo began talking about the band, the members and his relationship with the frontsman. Listening, sometimes asking to elaborate, Anon remembers that he saw the frontsman – that one time a student asked him to hold the door open as that student ran inside faster than the speed of light. He smiled a bit from such a coincidence.

Leo talked for around five minutes, nonstop, feeling like he needed to release this burden, to search for an additional side of sympathy in the face of Anon. Anon, on the other hand, carefully listened, trying to not lose anything – any single detail he can get is more than good for anything that comes up in the following days. Sage, as said, was sitting with little less than typical shining benevolence – irritated, a bit angry, she was sitting on her phone, trying to make the time pass quicker. Sadly for her, on her end those five minutes felt like fifty, meanwhile Anon felt only one out of those five minutes – and that was a last minute of pure silence.

— Well, I'm sorry about what happened between you and her. – Anon said, trying to show sympathy. – It's... definitely not what you deserve.

— Eh, it's nothing. – Leo waved his hand aside. – Are you going there?

— Why not? I mean, the tickets are cheap and low on quantity, so I should grab it. Besides, it's located in a bar, so...

— You really want a drink, aren't you? – Leo smiled.

— I'm not a drinker, don't get me wrong. It's just... Recently I got used to it. Better than coffee.

Leo looked surprised, but then he smiled again, understanding the joke.

— Whatever. – Sage said and dropped her phone back into her bag. – Me and Leo... – She wrapped her tail around him, smiling. – We'll stay at our place, won't we?

Only a fool wouldn't understand what she desires. – Anon thought.

— Actually, I want to visit that place.

Sage dropped her horny smile; her gaze filled with confusion. Her tail dropped to the floor like a dead flower in a cartoon.

— Leo, I understand that you want to be at some kind of a show. – Sage said. – I want, too! But her...

— What's about her? I understand my relation to her, but you? What do you have against her?

— It's... You know... Rivalry, jealousy. Typical women things. And, besides, I just can't stand her.

— Why's that? – Anon asked.

Sage looked at Anon with a rather toxic gaze. Something a woman would have when it's time to describe another woman.

— She tries to have an image of an independent woman. But all she truly is – is an egoistic, cocky cunt.

She really put some emphasis on the last word. – Anon thought. – Maybe they are competing for Leo? I mean, if I was a woman myself, I would too. Everyone would like an athlete as their boyfriend. Whatever, the less I think of it, the better.

— Sage. It's not always bad. Let's separate the creator and his creation, alright? As much as she can appear... unappealing, she does an amazing job as a vocalist. And her band makes some nice music. Besides, it's all about having fun.

Sage thought for a second. Then she slowly rested her head on his shoulder.

— I guess you're right. – She said. – Maybe it's just my jealousy.

Leo smiled. A few seconds spent in silence. Anon looked around, the cafeteria was still lively, with students sitting at the tables and eating, but it's definitely more empty. Anon looked at the time on his watch – a couple of minutes left before the bell.

— So, it's settled then? – Anon asked.

— I guess so. – Leo said, slowly brushing through Sage's hair. – I'll think about it for a moment, and then I'll tell you whether I'll tag along or not.

— Hey... – Sage said, resting on Leo's shoulder.

— I'm not forgetting about you. – Leo said, quietly, softly.

— Do you have my phone number though? – Anon asked.

Leo looked at Anon with a question.

— No? – He said. – At least I don't remember you giving it to me.

— Then let's exchange. – Anon said.

Leo and Anon exchanged their phone numbers. Looking at Leo's phone number, that was relatively rhythmical if the individual numbers are said out loud, a gut feeling tells Anon he wouldn't be receiving many calls or messages from him.

The bell rings, telling students to haul their asses into the classrooms. Sage, Leo and Anon stand up, leave their dirty trays in a designated spot and leave the cafeteria. They separate on the second floor, with Anon required to proceed on the fourth floor. And they didn't meet that day again.

 

***

 

Anon returned home. It was late, and five periods in the university gave out with his immense sleepiness and tiredness. He wants to fall onto the floor, just for the sake of sleeping for the following ten hours. But he can't – he has some homework he needs to do. With that in his head, barely keeping him awake, he slowly reaches his table and leaves the bag there, then goes into the kitchen and makes himself some disgusting and hot black tea. A singular sip from this potion removed any drawback, he felt a hundred-million-volt discharge going through his body. With the cup in his hand, he returns to the table, turns the lamp on, takes the sheets out of the bag and begins to solve them.

The process of solving the problems went uneventful, boring and mechanical. He knows all of this. He knows what this is or what that is. He knows the shortest way to solve a problem. Otherwise, he wouldn't be here solving them. Otherwise, he wouldn't be a student. Otherwise, he wouldn't make friends. Where would he be if he wasn't able to solve problems? Where would life take him if he wouldn't be able to stand up for himself and for others? What death would reach him if he wouldn't be able to become a shield nor a sword for someone who needs a supporting hand?

So many questions. He shivers, leaves a smudge. The thought process interrupted, no result. He has to think about this again. Suddenly, it became hard for him to look straight at the problem he was solving on a blank sheet of paper. As if it is a boulder he has to turn up to the mountain. "One must imagine Sisyphus happy" my ass. – Anon thought with malice. He left the papers on his table, took a sip from the disgusting black tea. Then he stood up and went into the kitchen for a smoke.

Clouds of blissful poison thaw in the black sky. Anon automatically takes a drag after a drag. The tiredness returned into his body. His head is empty. His gaze turned into glass, dulled, everything on the peripherals or outside his vision turned to nothing. Only the cold primordial blackness of the evening sky. On the canvas of this enormous black, Anon noticed a small dot – a distant star of hope, piercing through the silk of nothingness. Or, maybe, an echo, a light of the explosion, leaving no hope.

Anon found peace in Leo and Sage. As much as they remind him of those distant silhouettes, constantly hurting him into his shin, they lay this little seed of growth inside the soil of Anon, fertilized by the remains of who he was. A reconstruction after deconstruction – a constant process of betterment. Seeking consolation turned him into an empty vessel, repelling any kind of liquid poured inside. But the process has begun. There's no stopping now. And the only thing Anon could do is accept it and shape himself the way for maximization of the benefit.

Anon dragged too much, coughed out the cloud. Looking at the cigarette, that turned into a smoldering filter, he felt thirst, and so he threw it out into the cold blackness, closed the window, took a bottle of mineral water out of the fridge and drank. The pretty coldness of the water spreading around made him wake up the third time, and this time he felt like he wouldn't be getting into bed anytime soon.

The scent of smoke revolving around, twitching invisibly in the light, returns Anon into the memories of those sweet days before the disaster. Constant blabbing about different things for the sake of passing time. Smoking one cigarette in two mouths. You trigga-lipped it . – Anon remembers. In this blissful moment, when the pain is barely existent, when it's fine to think about the days passed, he thinks – will he find someone who will trigga-lip an only cigarette he has? Will he find someone who will share a cigarette with him in the first place?

The pain in the shin made him stop thinking about it, and in a moment, in the window, he saw a wing spreading wide. So wide, in fact, Anon could see each and every individual feather. Pale gray with red smudges here and there from intense preening. An angelic aura, a voice, distant, calling him in. A miraculous moment that lasts in a memory for an eternity. Soon, the wing disappears, but Anon keeps standing there, dully looking in the window, frozen like a statue. He wishes this moment lasted for a bit longer, brought him further into the previous, ignorant and blissful reality. He wishes she was here.

It takes him a second to return to his mind. The first thing he felt was the coldness in his right hand. He looked down, noticing a bottle of mineral water. Then he heard intensive beeping, slowly making its way into his brain. He turned left and noticed that the fridge was opening. Almost immediately, Anon returned the bottle into the fridge and closed it. Now, the silence remains, and with nothing left to do, he leaves the kitchen and returns into the living room.

The sheets of unfinished homework are still looking like a burden. Instead of finishing it, Anon turned on his laptop, logged in and began playing video games. It was a remaster of the first game in the dilogy, a quite popular one, sadly finished on a cliffhanger and never continued. Although people say that the quality of the remaster makes them wish for the better, Anon enjoys playing it. Some mechanics are irritating, some moments in the story are mesmerizing. A perfect balance in the videogame industry.

Anon played and played, until midnight arrived. As he finished the story and quit the game, he was shocked by the time on the clock: 0:24 AM. He was playing for several hours straight. Games really turn off time receptors. – Anon thought. He closed the laptop, looked at the discarded homework. It still looks like a burden, but Anon, however, drags the sheets to himself, takes a pen and finishes the last problems, to not worry about them tomorrow. Putting a dot in an equation solution, he sorts the papers and puts them back into his bag, not worrying about crumpling them. And with nothing left to do, he turns off the lamp and lies onto the bed nearby with a phone in his hands.

While he's still, barely, awake, Anon browses different corners of the internet. Many websites, forums, imageboards, were visited in a span of a half an hour. All for the sake of keeping him awake, blinding him with the absence of adaptive dark themes. Anon didn't last ten minutes, with sleepiness slowly wrapping him in its warm hug. Before inevitably falling asleep, Anon checked his messages, with only one new and unread:

Leo : I'll join.

“ Desire to fall asleep. ”

 

***

 

“ And even if I will find a way to avoid death, I wouldn't take it. To not hurt the pesky balance of the universe. ”

Anon hid his notepad inside his cozy jacket and looked outside. A cold Saturday evening. Typical blackness across the sky, with no dots of the distant stars or the moon to smile helplessly at him. Distant apartment complexes with little squares of light inside their windows invite for a cup of tea and a long heart-to-heart talk about problems. Nauseating static movement made Anon look away from the murky urban landscape back onto the screen of his phone. Looking for a second onto the imageboard, opened as yet another tab in his browser, he turned off the screen.

Illuminated by the unfriendly lights inside the wagon, surrounded by many unknown and possibly hostile people, Anon looked at himself into the black screen of his phone. The reflection showed a man that surpassed the brink of collapse years and years ago. A man who doesn’t have much left to hold on, with those things he has been new and untested. A man who doesn’t believe in much since everything he had to witness. And yet, far away, inside those eyes, there was hope. Born anew. Wreathed in the flames of his burdens. Fighting for the right to exist.

Anon doesn’t know for how long he was staring into the black screen of his phone, but he couldn’t remove his eyes from the barely visible, murky reflection. For the rest of the train ride to his destination, he thought about who he was, what made him who he was. Suddenly, he thought about a well-lit room in some kind of an apartment with two chairs: on one is he, in his current moment of total confusion and defensive repellence, on the other, looking back at him, was he as a kid: a self-made kimono, three katanas, pilot goggles. And floating above it all: a question – what would he say to himself from the past to prevent all of this, to make this barely a one out of a thousand points of view on the possible reality?

Anon felt the train stopping, and immediately got sent back into his senses. Looking around, he noticed a line of passengers slowly making their way into the tambour. Anon stood up, harshly made his way into the line and left the train, stepping outside on the cold concrete and freezing wind. He quickly made his way from the platform onto the streets and, looking into the map on his phone, began following the illusionary line.

A concert. A concert of a band. A concert of a freshmen band. A concert of a freshmen band that is quite popular. Every single detail made him more and more interested in what will come. The ad, seen by hundreds, if not thousands, of students, did its job nicely – it left an impact. Impact hard enough for Anon to stand up, get dressed, catch a train and make a route in his map into the place where the show will take place.

But in the meantime, he remembers the disaster he witnessed in the beginning of his life here, in Volcaldera Bluffs. That little disaster, that made this whirlpool of visions, ideas, emotions, feelings, all mixed and welded into one mass of pain and emotional suffering he had to bear for quite a long time. This could be just like it, just painted a bit differently. Just with other people. Just in a different location. Just with a couple more witnesses.

In the distance, on the other side of the street, Anon saw the venue where the show will take place. A bar, profoundly and ironically named “The Last One”. Of course, they would settle a show in a bar , – Anon thought, – since all of the students in the university are old enough to drink. People were slowly making their way inside, stepping into the building under the toxic neon light. Anon increased the pace of his walk, thinking he was late for the party.

And closer he was walking to the bar, the more pain he felt in his shin. All of it is just too fucking bluntly familiar. He has seen this show before. Sitting in the front row as some kind of a director, remaking the play, turning it from a prosperous drama into a horror and dreadful parody, with nothing human left in it. And yet he kept going, driven by confidence that this time it will be different – there’s just too many differences to pull out of the perspective, and without them the picture isn’t made right.

Anon walked across the street and stopped a couple of feet away from the entrance. The logo, held by a metallic construction, was blinding him with its alcoholic toxicity. He could smell the spirit making its way outside, on the empty streets. He finally decided to check the time: he was thirty minutes early. With Leo nowhere to be seen, he sighed, stepped aside, leaned onto the brick wall with his back, took a cigarette, lit it and took a smoke breather.

He was always surprised with how empty the streets look in the evening. As if there was some kind of a law that forbids any person or vehicle to appear on the streets from some hour and until the sunrise. Leaving only those who don’t have anything to lose to roam the empty and cold streets. Illuminated by the pale unfriendly lights of the tall street lamps. Surrounded by the buildings like overseers. Under the trancing blackness of the coastal sky. Life stops the second the infinite cold vacuum of the cosmos takes hold.

The cigarette was done, Anon tossed it aside, not even bothering to squish it down into the sidewalk. He couldn’t feel his ears from the freezing coldness of this evening. It’s definitely much colder than previous evenings. – Anon thought. – Well, it’s almost October now. Reasonable. Despite the freezing cold, he was standing stiff near the entrance inside the warm bar, reeking of alcohol and sweat. He is not getting inside without a friend.

Ten minutes pass uneventfully. Now Anon was freezing his balls out. With all the downsides, entering the bar was a perfect idea. At least it was warm inside. But Anon only looked at the entrance, hearing the muffled voices, smelling spirits. He needs to meet his friend outside. And only then he would get inside. Although, two minutes later, he had enough of this freezing cold, and, feeling a bit of guilt, entered the bar.

As he anticipated, it was really stiff and really hot. Reeking of sweat and alcohol. Dim lights bring nostalgic and sleepy moods. The bartender looks tired, definitely desiring to go home; his black and white uniform, with a merch apron, was tightly wrapped around his body. Behind the bartender, who was mechanically cleaning some glasses, was a wall with bottles of dizzy delight. Anon ordered a bottle of beer, and those little seconds he was waiting he looked to his right.

And on the right, he saw a mix of every single color in the world – a good crowd of lousy youth. It looked chaotic, yet organized in its own way and with its own passion. People in the crowd were standing so close to one another Anon decided to just stay here and enjoy the beer he will receive soon. Besides, just looking at the hoard made Anon feel like his organs turned ninety degrees from a simple thought of what could be done to him. And he definitely doesn’t want to wake up tomorrow with a couple broken limbs in a hospital bed.

The bartender put a fresh, cold, open bottle of quality dark beer onto the counter. Anon took the bottle and drank, looking at the excited crowd that couldn’t bear the weight any longer. The cold beer was really good, reminding him of something distant on the tip of his tongue. He looked down at his watch, to check the time, – barely five minutes until the show officially begins. Well, I doubt they would be on time. – Anon thought. – I could add a couple more minutes for them to collect things.

Unexpectedly, the door burst open, and a couple stumbled inside. Anon looked at the new visitors, and froze in surprise – Leo and Sage, in some beautiful clothing, both breathing heavily, made their way to the counter.

— Sorry, Leo! – Sage said. – Didn’t expect this to turn out this way!

— No worries! – Leo replied, looked down, and, hands on knees, sighed. – At least we made it…

A couple seconds later, Leo straightened, looked around and noticed Anon, just standing there, with a bottle of beer. Leo smiled, happy that Anon actually came around, and went to him to shake hands. Leo then asked Anon to take a sip from the bottle; Anon obliged, and gave him the bottle. Leo drank and drank, emptying the bottle. Anon looked at him, drinking until the last bit, with a slab of resentment in the gaze. Leo tossed the bottle into the trash bin nearby and asked for two bottle beers and a soft cocktail for Sage.

— I really thought I would get late! – Leo said with a tired smile.

— You really didn’t. – Anon replied calmly. – But I sure froze my balls off waiting for you outside.

— Really? – Leo said, surprised and worried. – I’m sorry to hear that. Sage’s…

— No worries, mate. – Anon said, reassuringly. – No worries. Let’s just have some fun, shall we?

Leo nodded, smiling widely. After receiving their orders, the trio turned around and looked at the stage.

There were three people. In the back, illuminated by the projectors in the back corners of the scene, was a drummer. He looked rather athletic, sporty, built well; he had tattoos all across his arms and maybe even across his body, with some piercings to accompany his rebellious style; his skin was pink, his haircut – just a bit brighter. He was sitting behind a nifty drumset, with sticks in his right hand, and his piercing, yet comforting gaze looked at the other person.

That other person was a guitarist. A bit fat, in a jacket, a blank t-shirt and jeans, he wore the seven-string guitar like a soldier wears his rifle – with barely any personal respect. He had dark-purple hair long enough to reach his shoulders. And, funny for Anon, he still had that virgin mustache, that he definitely doesn’t want to shave off for any particular reason. But the main figure, waiting for the other members, with a microphone in his hand, was in the front.

Anon was shocked. He knew that person, at least how it looked. White sweater with a rather wide-open neck, erotically revealing clavicles, black cargo pants, high white boots. Tattoos were spotted around the neck and on the face, what if there's more of them? Piercing on the brow, a chain and a pendant on the neck. A stylish blue and black haircut. Blue scales. A beak and a tail with spikes. And a piercing dark gray gaze. This is an unexpected surprise.

After a few seconds, the bar was pierced by the electric hum of the guitars. This illegible noise turned on the crowd, tired of waiting for the show to begin. The frontsman looked at the people with a carnivorous smile and an examining, cheeky-maliceful gaze. The guitarist looked like he was about to tear the fabric of sound in half with his shredding. The drummer in the back looked calm, but prepared. They have waited for this moment for a long time – and there it is. A crowd, cheering in anticipation, with some unlucky witnesses in the back.

Then the drummer punched out the beat, and all hell broke loose.

The lights, going in and out, reflected from his and his friends’ gazes, as they stood in awe. The crowd was cheering nonstop. Ambience of the bar left for a quick second, violently replaced by the heavy and really fast music. The energy emitted could give one a sheer heart attack. Anon forgot about the cold drink in his hand; he froze in place like a statue, with his gaze forever thrown onto the stage, where the true massacre was taking place.

The drummer played fast – way faster than Anon ever heard in his life. He thought playing so fast was a job for a computer, not a dino nor a human – but the drummer was there, proving him wrong. With how hard and fast he hits his drums, he barely looks tired. And, for sure, he looks like he has the fun of his lifetime.

The guitarist was shredding. Each and every sound he made, playing some incredibly technical music, reeked of metallic ozone, distortion and electricity. He was playing fast too – but the difference between him and the drummer was that he didn’t have room for error on his fret. His fingers slid to both ends of the guitar, pushing out individual sounds that in unison provided a beautiful melody.

And the frontsman… She is a monster in dino flesh. With all the awe Anon experiences, her vocals were just a cherry on the top of this well baked cake. Her screamo vocals, going high and low, pushed aside other two instruments, piercing the fabric of sound and the eardrums of the listeners. Anon, listening, standing behind the crowd, looking at the scene, frozen with the bottle of alcohol in his right hand, – he knew for sure – she put her entire heart and soul into it.