(no subject)
The sounds were all the same as he remembered; the scream of traffic and the murmur of conversation dotted along the sidewalk in small clusters of people, the hum of neon lights above, it was that distinct background music that made up the force of hectic life fueling the city. Every town and bustling spot had one, a heavy mix of human noise and background static; most of his traveling was remembered in those sounds and how they held the life around them. While Kori couldn't remember the name of each spot he had stopped for a handful of nights at a time over the past long months and months he could shut his eyes and hear the noise of each place so distinctly it may as well have been the same as standing amid it again.
And New York was a place that sang more loudly than most. Nothing was understated, few things were subtle, and it injected a sort of wild energy into the people who nestled into the depths of that chaos. It clashed up against his mellow vibe and mussed it all up with an urgent sort of longing; time to move, to see, hear, live. And there was not to be a moment wasted, not when there as so much to fill up each breath; simply live.
It was the place that, in the long months he had been absent, Kori had kept thinking back on with a growing twinge of homesickness.
Travel was the same in each spot and only the people changed from club to club and bar to bar. New locations and faces; for a long while his curiosity had been enough to carry him onward and spurred by a hint of wayward longing to see what it was inside himself that could not quite catch hold of the sound that was nudging at him with some promise he didn't understand, not yet at least.
But it had changed, as slow as water gathering like a puddle under his sneakers, the pool growing until it lapped under his skin and gave that feeling that he already knew; something wasn't exactly right.
It hadn't been the music, the band had begun to grow in popularity from the night he had joined them, but something about his place in that music was what had begun to crack. Those hairline fractures had been easy to ignore initially; the siren call of the stage and the people who held their breathe when he played had been intoxicating. For a while he had felt like the world was nestled right in his palms, shiny and inviting him onward.
The people loved it, their fans grew ravenous and for once Kori had felt heard, not simply by people rushing past in the subway but by the ones who sought him out; and it was such a high that it was easy to get drunk off it.
But eventually that high had turned into a mental hangover.
Something had turned sour in the music, Mallory's voice had become bitter across her strings and his own caught in his throat. Or to him it did; there was no difference to the people who followed the band with resolute devotion.
He was the one who lost it, who in turn became disenchanted by what poured forth when he raised fingers to the strings and his voice over the crowd.
Long days puzzling over it gave way to tired nights disconnected from the thoughts while his mind drifted homeward. Day and night, over and over, even as their popularity had grown something inside the song had untangled in him and the notes lost all the good in them.
It was the life he had thought he'd wanted but came to realize that the mark he was leaving wasn't one he wanted.
And without his heart in the music Kori knew he couldn't stay; sometime was flickering in tiny fits under his skin restless and uncomfortable. There was something changing in him and he had begun to see how in changed in those around him too as the music shifted; and that had troubled him.
It had been the final breaking point, exhausted down to the marrow of his bones and sick to the pit of his heart; he had to go.
It felt like a wavy memory now, a half-written melody, a blur of noise without a beat; those few months he had simply wandered alone. Back to his old ways, catching work wherever he could find a spot to play, turning back to the songs he felt in his blood rather than the ones dictated by the crowd.
Healing, in slow degrees, and eventually he had come back to himself and away from that shell he had begun to see when he looked in the mirror; everything inside him emptied out to appease the greedy faces that soaked it up so eagerly at those shows.
When he found himself again his feet had already led him back to where he belonged; still tired and heavy-hearted but with something close to hope trying to take hold of him.
The changes were laid out around him; he knew there was no real point in returning to the apartment, it had been empty of the life he had left for months, the count of them lost. And he couldn't help but wonder if there was any anger over his departure, knowing the difficult spot it had left Vince in, but some questions he was hesitant to ask because of the potential answers.
He couldn't even really sort out if it had been a mistake, not fully, now that he had learned what he needed to from that path behind him; but it had put on shaky steps the road ahead of him. In itself Kori didn't fear the uncertainty, but he did feel the heavy weight of the loss of those good things that had slipped away.
When he finally got up the nerve to see what his old friend was up to, after those few months he had been lost to the world outside his own thoughts as he slowly let his steps take him back to the city, the possibility was that he may not have gotten an answer back.
It was a chance to take, but a necessary one, he needed to hear Vince's voice; he had been missing him in those tired hours.
After some debate over it, as searching for Vince at work was shaky chance at best, he simply sent him a single text because he couldn't think of how else to sum up what had been settling in his veins in the few days since he had arrived back in the city.
'I'm home.'
And New York was a place that sang more loudly than most. Nothing was understated, few things were subtle, and it injected a sort of wild energy into the people who nestled into the depths of that chaos. It clashed up against his mellow vibe and mussed it all up with an urgent sort of longing; time to move, to see, hear, live. And there was not to be a moment wasted, not when there as so much to fill up each breath; simply live.
It was the place that, in the long months he had been absent, Kori had kept thinking back on with a growing twinge of homesickness.
Travel was the same in each spot and only the people changed from club to club and bar to bar. New locations and faces; for a long while his curiosity had been enough to carry him onward and spurred by a hint of wayward longing to see what it was inside himself that could not quite catch hold of the sound that was nudging at him with some promise he didn't understand, not yet at least.
But it had changed, as slow as water gathering like a puddle under his sneakers, the pool growing until it lapped under his skin and gave that feeling that he already knew; something wasn't exactly right.
It hadn't been the music, the band had begun to grow in popularity from the night he had joined them, but something about his place in that music was what had begun to crack. Those hairline fractures had been easy to ignore initially; the siren call of the stage and the people who held their breathe when he played had been intoxicating. For a while he had felt like the world was nestled right in his palms, shiny and inviting him onward.
The people loved it, their fans grew ravenous and for once Kori had felt heard, not simply by people rushing past in the subway but by the ones who sought him out; and it was such a high that it was easy to get drunk off it.
But eventually that high had turned into a mental hangover.
Something had turned sour in the music, Mallory's voice had become bitter across her strings and his own caught in his throat. Or to him it did; there was no difference to the people who followed the band with resolute devotion.
He was the one who lost it, who in turn became disenchanted by what poured forth when he raised fingers to the strings and his voice over the crowd.
Long days puzzling over it gave way to tired nights disconnected from the thoughts while his mind drifted homeward. Day and night, over and over, even as their popularity had grown something inside the song had untangled in him and the notes lost all the good in them.
It was the life he had thought he'd wanted but came to realize that the mark he was leaving wasn't one he wanted.
And without his heart in the music Kori knew he couldn't stay; sometime was flickering in tiny fits under his skin restless and uncomfortable. There was something changing in him and he had begun to see how in changed in those around him too as the music shifted; and that had troubled him.
It had been the final breaking point, exhausted down to the marrow of his bones and sick to the pit of his heart; he had to go.
It felt like a wavy memory now, a half-written melody, a blur of noise without a beat; those few months he had simply wandered alone. Back to his old ways, catching work wherever he could find a spot to play, turning back to the songs he felt in his blood rather than the ones dictated by the crowd.
Healing, in slow degrees, and eventually he had come back to himself and away from that shell he had begun to see when he looked in the mirror; everything inside him emptied out to appease the greedy faces that soaked it up so eagerly at those shows.
When he found himself again his feet had already led him back to where he belonged; still tired and heavy-hearted but with something close to hope trying to take hold of him.
The changes were laid out around him; he knew there was no real point in returning to the apartment, it had been empty of the life he had left for months, the count of them lost. And he couldn't help but wonder if there was any anger over his departure, knowing the difficult spot it had left Vince in, but some questions he was hesitant to ask because of the potential answers.
He couldn't even really sort out if it had been a mistake, not fully, now that he had learned what he needed to from that path behind him; but it had put on shaky steps the road ahead of him. In itself Kori didn't fear the uncertainty, but he did feel the heavy weight of the loss of those good things that had slipped away.
When he finally got up the nerve to see what his old friend was up to, after those few months he had been lost to the world outside his own thoughts as he slowly let his steps take him back to the city, the possibility was that he may not have gotten an answer back.
It was a chance to take, but a necessary one, he needed to hear Vince's voice; he had been missing him in those tired hours.
After some debate over it, as searching for Vince at work was shaky chance at best, he simply sent him a single text because he couldn't think of how else to sum up what had been settling in his veins in the few days since he had arrived back in the city.
'I'm home.'