Rock n' Roll Life, Chapter Twelve
Title: Rock n' Roll Life
Author: Donner
Feedback: Oh pweese, oh pweese, oh pweese, oh pweese...
Pairing: Angel/Collins, Roger/April, Mark/Maureen, slight Maureen/Joanne, will develop into Roger/Mimi
Word Count: 2553
Rating: PG-13 for content
Genre: Alternative Universe, Drama, Humor
Summary: Roger's got a rock n' roll band. Roger's got a rock n' roll life. Roger's got a rock n' roll girlfriend. Roger's got a drug addiction. Angel's got identity issues. Mark's trying to make sure no one dies on him.
Summary for Chapter: Warped Tour is here and the gang is meeting and interacting with multiple bands, but can they be tolerated?
Notes: I have another band to pimp in this space. Check out my boys at CUTE IS WHAT WE AIM FOR. They're not heavy like AFI and they're really sweet! Okay. I promise I'll stop band pimping... I promise.
Special Thanks: As always, the readers, and electrakitty74. Thank you, thank you, thank you so much, Sarah! You're the best beta-mommy a girl could ever have!
Spoilers: Naw
Warnings: Roger's drunk, Angel's pissed, AFI love.
Disclaimer: I do not own RENT, Warped Tour, AFI, Fuse, David Bowie, Hot Topic, this computer I'm typing on...
Please check out the past chapters on the spiffy donnanthebeast tags! Click on "rock n roll life" and check out the past tracks!
Rock n’ Roll Life
By Donna
Chapter Twelve: Black Mamba, The Academy Is...
You’re watching Warped Wednesday on FUSE, where anything and everything is about VANS WARPED TOUR!
If you want to get in on our WARPED CHAT, text FUSEM with the subject CHAT. Texts cost fifty cents to send. Please no curse words or phone numbers!
fftl is awesome!!!!!! sonny is so hawt ew fftl sux! Pete Wentz is a ho!!! Who here likes SAT (Subatomic Treehuggers)? ADD ME ON MYSPACE! http://www.myspace.com/click_you_die I LOVE SAT! ROGER N MARK R SO HOTT! angel from sat is a fag -Jill ur a fag jill plz add me on myspace! Http://www.myspace.com/attentionwhore. PLZ AIR! I LOVE FUSE! Jillz a maaaan!! Lolz
Warped Tour was a different experience. When the Treehuggers ended their headline tour, they got to spend more time on the Warped grounds and encounter many bands of different genres and different backgrounds. Granted, each member of the Treehuggers were very different, so certain people got along with members a certain way. Roger clicked with the older punk bands and went drinking with them. Mark went along with the Fueled By Ramen/“emo scenesters” and Angel... she was just entertaining to watch as she interacted with everyone and anyone. Mark and Roger followed her like older brothers following their sister on a first date. She ran up to anyone she saw, most of which, her idols, and tried to befriend them. And most, if not all, made friends back. Everyone took a liking to the rather quicky cross dresser and her love for making the playlist at Hot Topic full of AFI, David Bowie, and new wave. There were still several bands from rather slow areas of the US that didn’t even know people like her existed in music, but she was able to warm their hearts a little (or Roger and Mark made them).
One of Roger’s friends was a man named Sprite. He became Roger’s smoking buddy. Sprite was the lead singer of an old punk band named No Pulse, and had been rocking out since the eighties. Roger decided to hang off every word he said. It was evident he was “in the know” to say the least.
“So... how old are you, Roggy?” Sprite asked, pushing his thinning blue hair to one side.
“Just turned twenty-seven.”
“Ah... so you’re an old newbie,” Sprite said, laughing. His laugh was rough against Roger’s ears and his skin, creased and bent in more than a sheet just removed from the dryer, folded to form a smile. Years of hard rock and liquor had seemed to have finally gotten to him.
“I guess you can say that.”
“How old’s your drummer... ten?”
“She’s eighteen.”
“So she’s a baby.”
“Yep. Pretty much.”
“How long have you known her?”
“A good few months.”
Another rough laugh. “She’ll never make it.”
“What?”
“She’s not meant for the rock n’ roll life.”
“Of course she is! She’s been running on punk and duct tape since the day she was born.”
“Does she even go to shows?”
“Hey, she’s right there! Go ask her.”
“I will. ‘Ey, Angel! Get your skinny ass over here!”
Angel looked up from her talk with another drummer and ran over. Her hair was dyed black with purple streaks and flat-ironed. There was a funny story behind that... since No Secrets Here came out, magazines wanted to cover the band and their rather successful album. But many magazines requested Angel would be dressed as a boy for the interviews. Roger quickly made sure that any magazines that requested that were turned down and to show a strange form of defiance, Angel began to grow out her hair more than usual. Her sense of style was still as wacky as ever. She wore a tie, collared shirt, and a tank top with a rabbit patch she stitched on. She also wore a stolen pair of Roger’s plaid pants. “Yeah?” she asked, putting her hands on her hips.
“You know who I am, right?” Sprite asked, pushing himself off the bus he was leaning on. He was already taller than Roger and Angel, but he felt the need to intimidate her even more.
“Of course,” Angel said, coolly, “You’re Sprite Bailey from No Pulse. I have a... seven inch?... of yours and your E.P.s and your L.P.s on CD.”
“Seven inch, eh?” Sprite asked, grinning, “Those are hard to find.”
“Yeah. I got it a little while ago. It was a bitch to get.”
Sprite nodded. “Do you want a cigarette or something?”
Angel shook her head. “I don’t smoke.”
“Are you straight-edge or...”
“I just don’t care for it. I’m not edge. I do drink a little.”
“Uh-huh. Where’d you get your little outfit?”
Roger groaned. “Stop playing twenty questions with my drummer!”
“It’s okay, Roger, I don’t mind,” Angel said. “I got the shirt on the clearance rack at Sears, I made the tank top, and the pants are from Roger’s closet. The shoes... I really can’t tell you. I use them for dancing.”
“What kind of dancing?”
“Slamdancing. I like to do some hardcore shit.
Roger’s eyes bulged. “Wait... what?!”
“You didn’t know I danced, Roger?” Angel asked.
“Uh... no?” Roger mumbled.
“Oh! I used to go to shows a lot during high school.”
Sprite came into the conversation again. “But here’s the real question. Are you dressed as a girl doing it?”
“Yeah!” Angel exclaimed, “Of course! I have a pretty pink bandanna and everything!”
Sprite roared with laughter. “Nice!” He slapped her back, a loud echoing noise hitting everyone’s ears. “I’m sorry about what I said, Roger! She does have what it takes! I’m sorry I ever doubted you, girly!”
Angel smiled. “You boys always seem to do that.”
Sprite bent down to her level. “My dearest Angel, as a certified tattoo and piercing artist, I would love to do anything you’d like to yourself. Seriously. You name it, I’ll do it.”
Angel smirked. “Really?”
“Yep! I got my stuff in my bus if you want to see some past stuff I did...”
“Can you pierce my lip?”
Roger’s jaw dropped. “What?!”
“Sure! Of done tons of those! I have a stud with your name on it... come to my bus. We’ll do it right now, before either of us have to go on.”
Roger watched them walk to Sprite’s bus. “Holy shit!” he yelled. He ran to find Mark. Mark was innocently talking to some people Roger couldn’t identify. He tapped Mark’s shoulder, which was more like a punch. Mark looked up at him, his eyes narrowing. “What’s wrong, Roger?”
“Angie, our little Angie is getting a lip ring!”
“Oh. That’s cool.”
“But! Sprite from No Pulse is doing it!”
Mark gasped. “Wow! D’ya think he’ll do my nose?”
Roger stared at him for a moment. “What the fuck is wrong with everyone?!”
“Roger, come on. She’s the punker. You know that. She may act like she’s not that punk, but she’s probably one of the most punk kids I’ve ever seen. She can relate to so many things in those bands, unlike, like, more than half the kids in the world. So her poking holes in her lip is nothing that should be strange or ‘bad’ to you... don’t tell me you lost your edge.”
“Of course not!”
“So relax, dude. Angel’s a big girl. I’m sure she’ll look good with a lipring.”
Roger nodded. “I guess...”
Mark looked back at the group of friends he recently made. “Look, Roger, just join the conversation or something. We’re debating about guitar brands...”
After a good half hour talking about guitars, girls, and gun belt buckles, Roger felt someone tap his shoulder. He turned his head.
“Hey, Roger,” Angel said calmly, Sprite coming from behind her, laughing. “She didn’t even flinch!” he exclaimed, “Doesn’t it look good?”
“Lemme see!” Mark said, turning around. He grabbed Angel and pulled her close, inspecting the silver stud on the side of her lip. “I like it!”
Angel’s eyes lit up. “You do?”
“Yeah! Where’s Collins? He has to see this...”
“He’s at the merch thing,” Angel mumbled, twirling a lock of her hair, “I hope he doesn’t kill me...”
“Not for nothin’, but it’s your body, girly,” Sprite said, “You can do whatever you want to yourself. At least, I think so. S’why I don’t beat up emo kids.” He punched Mark’s shoulder. Mark flinched. “‘Sides,” Sprite added, “if you really don’t like it, it can close up.”
Angel nodded. “I wouldn’t do that, though. I like it.”
Collins came over, telling them that they had to perform in an hour. He looked at Angel and said, “Hey... what?” He bent down and stared at the stud. “...Oh. Nice!” He laughed and kissed her cheek. “As if you don’t have enough holes in your ears...” he sighed, pushing her left earlobe, which currently housed five hoops.
******************************************************
Roger took a gulp of his beer. “Are you ready yet, Angie?”
“Do you have to be buzzed to preform?” Mark asked.
Roger’s eyes narrowed. “Shut the fuck up, Cohen.”
Mark groaned. “No. I’m not. You fucking... asshole! You’re fucking drunk! It’s not cute anymore!”
Roger pointed his bottle at Mark. “I should throw this at you...”
“Can you please stop?” Angel begged, pulling Roger back. “Relax! We have a show! The kids are depending on us!”
Roger shoved her and began to move to the stage.
Angel and Mark caught up to him. “Roger! Calm down!” Mark pleaded. Angel held his wrist like a mother begging a child to eat their vegetables.
Roger swung around. Will you guys let go?” He threw his arms up and attempted to punch them, bottle at hand. He finally dropped it at Angel’s feet and she slipped and fell, landing against a garbage can. Mark tried to help her up, but she ignored him and got in Roger’s face. “This is the second time you’ve pushed me down. Second. You fucking jackass. If I didn’t care about this band... if I didn’t care about the fans, I would leave right now. You’re lucky you have a bunch of people who care about you and this band, Roger, because you sure as hell don’t.” She looked at Mark and they walked to the stage. Roger stared for a moment at them. He looked at the garbage can and kicked it to the ground. The girl was right.
******************************************************
After the set, Angel left without a word. Roger left for the bus. Mark tried to figure out where Angel went. She didn’t go to the bus. She had to be at someone’s set. He walked to the timetable display at the front of the grounds. He smirked. AFI just started. If she wasn’t there, she had to have evaporated. Mark never forgot the time he went to her place and saw her and Mimi dancing around to AFI. She was so embarrassed, but admitted to them being one of her favorite bands. “Why did you tell us that from the beginning?” Mark asked. She shrugged and said, “I didn’t want to come off too weird.” Which, now, made sense. He found the stage and tried to get through the sea of people. There was such a wide range of people, from the old fashioned punks, to the poppier kids. “Fuck... I’m never gonna find her,” he groaned. He looked at a pit the erupted in front of him. A person hit him as they danced. They wore a tiny Armor for Sleep hoodie with wings on the back and the hood up and jeans with holes that were evidently from falling and getting dirty. They wore a pink bandanna across their face, concealing their identity.
The person punched a guy much bigger than them and got on their hands and kicked another in the back. Mark gulped. “Oh no! He’s gonna get his ass kicked!” The guy that got hit in the back laughed, instead of what Mark feared. Mark looked back at the smaller one. They got up, and the hood fell. Mark yelled, “Angel!”
Angel looked over. “Mark!” She shoved toward him, pulling down her bandana and grinning. She wore a Band-Aid over her piercing, but nothing hid the fact it was her now.
Mark yelled over the music, “I thought I’d find you here!”
Angel nodded, pulling at his arm. “I love this song.”
Mark listened, looking up at the lead singer and the guitarist. They were currently singing in each other’s faces in a very intimate way that he knew Roger and he could never do. Angel leaned on him, smiling widely as she sang with them. After the set (and the lead singer stage diving into the crowd), Angel had clearly recovered from when Roger accosted her.
“Oh my God...” she breathed, “I’ve seen those guys live about three times, and they’re just as amazing as the first time...”
“You’re such a fangirl,” Mark said, smiling.
Angel nodded. “Don’t you have a band that’s the best ever and you’ll do whatever you can for them?”
“Uhm, I guess....”
“You don’t, do you?”
“No, I really don’t.”
“Oh my God! How do you live?”
Mark laughed. It was funny how two people lived off music in different ways. “I live a very guilty life,” he said.
“I figured as much,” Angel mumbled. She looked at him, trying to figure him out just looking at his eyes. “I bet ya listen to all those critic loved indie bands and shit. Death Cab for Cutie, The Academy Is...”
“Hey, hey! I love The Academy Is...”
“...and because you’re so emo, I’m sure you love Taking Back Sunday.”
“They’re my favorite band!” Mark said, pointing to the shirt underneath his hoodie.
“I knew it! I’m good at these things.”
“You slamdanced really good,” Mark added.
Angel nodded. “It’s really fun. You can let out a lot of aggression and shit.”
“I guess. Oh! Look! Fans!” Mark pointed to a group of people in Subatomic gear, cheering. Angel gave them a rock-on sign. “I love you!” she yelled.
Mark chuckled. “You really love this stuff, don’t you?”
“Yeah! I live for it.”
******************************************************
Roger groaned, rolling in his bunk.
“Mark called,” Collins said, “Angel went to see AFI. But I doubt AFI will be able to make her very happy to see you. What the hell is with you and drinking before a show? It doesn’t help you.”
Roger grunted, throwing his pillow over his head. “Shut up! My head hurts!”
“I wonder why. Alcohol’s a drug, yanno.”
“Then we’re all addicts.”
“At least I don’t shove needles in my skin.”
“Will you shut the fuck up, Collins?”
Angel and Mark walked in. “I’m gonna take a shower,” Angel announced.
“Ew!” Mark gasped, “In the group shower? Everyone’s in there and...”
“I know. I haven’t taken one in five days. I need it, Mark.” She pulled out a bathing suit and got dressed in her bunk. She reappeared in a black and white skull adorned bikini and Hello Kitty sandals. She grabbed a bottle of shampoo and walked up to Roger, screaming in his ear. Roger groaned as she left and made her way to the showers.
Author: Donner
Feedback: Oh pweese, oh pweese, oh pweese, oh pweese...
Pairing: Angel/Collins, Roger/April, Mark/Maureen, slight Maureen/Joanne, will develop into Roger/Mimi
Word Count: 2553
Rating: PG-13 for content
Genre: Alternative Universe, Drama, Humor
Summary: Roger's got a rock n' roll band. Roger's got a rock n' roll life. Roger's got a rock n' roll girlfriend. Roger's got a drug addiction. Angel's got identity issues. Mark's trying to make sure no one dies on him.
Summary for Chapter: Warped Tour is here and the gang is meeting and interacting with multiple bands, but can they be tolerated?
Notes: I have another band to pimp in this space. Check out my boys at CUTE IS WHAT WE AIM FOR. They're not heavy like AFI and they're really sweet! Okay. I promise I'll stop band pimping... I promise.
Special Thanks: As always, the readers, and electrakitty74. Thank you, thank you, thank you so much, Sarah! You're the best beta-mommy a girl could ever have!
Spoilers: Naw
Warnings: Roger's drunk, Angel's pissed, AFI love.
Disclaimer: I do not own RENT, Warped Tour, AFI, Fuse, David Bowie, Hot Topic, this computer I'm typing on...
Please check out the past chapters on the spiffy donnanthebeast tags! Click on "rock n roll life" and check out the past tracks!
Rock n’ Roll Life
By Donna
Chapter Twelve: Black Mamba, The Academy Is...
You’re watching Warped Wednesday on FUSE, where anything and everything is about VANS WARPED TOUR!
If you want to get in on our WARPED CHAT, text FUSEM with the subject CHAT. Texts cost fifty cents to send. Please no curse words or phone numbers!
fftl is awesome!!!!!! sonny is so hawt ew fftl sux! Pete Wentz is a ho!!! Who here likes SAT (Subatomic Treehuggers)? ADD ME ON MYSPACE! http://www.myspace.com/click_you_die I LOVE SAT! ROGER N MARK R SO HOTT! angel from sat is a fag -Jill ur a fag jill plz add me on myspace! Http://www.myspace.com/attentionwhore. PLZ AIR! I LOVE FUSE! Jillz a maaaan!! Lolz
Warped Tour was a different experience. When the Treehuggers ended their headline tour, they got to spend more time on the Warped grounds and encounter many bands of different genres and different backgrounds. Granted, each member of the Treehuggers were very different, so certain people got along with members a certain way. Roger clicked with the older punk bands and went drinking with them. Mark went along with the Fueled By Ramen/“emo scenesters” and Angel... she was just entertaining to watch as she interacted with everyone and anyone. Mark and Roger followed her like older brothers following their sister on a first date. She ran up to anyone she saw, most of which, her idols, and tried to befriend them. And most, if not all, made friends back. Everyone took a liking to the rather quicky cross dresser and her love for making the playlist at Hot Topic full of AFI, David Bowie, and new wave. There were still several bands from rather slow areas of the US that didn’t even know people like her existed in music, but she was able to warm their hearts a little (or Roger and Mark made them).
One of Roger’s friends was a man named Sprite. He became Roger’s smoking buddy. Sprite was the lead singer of an old punk band named No Pulse, and had been rocking out since the eighties. Roger decided to hang off every word he said. It was evident he was “in the know” to say the least.
“So... how old are you, Roggy?” Sprite asked, pushing his thinning blue hair to one side.
“Just turned twenty-seven.”
“Ah... so you’re an old newbie,” Sprite said, laughing. His laugh was rough against Roger’s ears and his skin, creased and bent in more than a sheet just removed from the dryer, folded to form a smile. Years of hard rock and liquor had seemed to have finally gotten to him.
“I guess you can say that.”
“How old’s your drummer... ten?”
“She’s eighteen.”
“So she’s a baby.”
“Yep. Pretty much.”
“How long have you known her?”
“A good few months.”
Another rough laugh. “She’ll never make it.”
“What?”
“She’s not meant for the rock n’ roll life.”
“Of course she is! She’s been running on punk and duct tape since the day she was born.”
“Does she even go to shows?”
“Hey, she’s right there! Go ask her.”
“I will. ‘Ey, Angel! Get your skinny ass over here!”
Angel looked up from her talk with another drummer and ran over. Her hair was dyed black with purple streaks and flat-ironed. There was a funny story behind that... since No Secrets Here came out, magazines wanted to cover the band and their rather successful album. But many magazines requested Angel would be dressed as a boy for the interviews. Roger quickly made sure that any magazines that requested that were turned down and to show a strange form of defiance, Angel began to grow out her hair more than usual. Her sense of style was still as wacky as ever. She wore a tie, collared shirt, and a tank top with a rabbit patch she stitched on. She also wore a stolen pair of Roger’s plaid pants. “Yeah?” she asked, putting her hands on her hips.
“You know who I am, right?” Sprite asked, pushing himself off the bus he was leaning on. He was already taller than Roger and Angel, but he felt the need to intimidate her even more.
“Of course,” Angel said, coolly, “You’re Sprite Bailey from No Pulse. I have a... seven inch?... of yours and your E.P.s and your L.P.s on CD.”
“Seven inch, eh?” Sprite asked, grinning, “Those are hard to find.”
“Yeah. I got it a little while ago. It was a bitch to get.”
Sprite nodded. “Do you want a cigarette or something?”
Angel shook her head. “I don’t smoke.”
“Are you straight-edge or...”
“I just don’t care for it. I’m not edge. I do drink a little.”
“Uh-huh. Where’d you get your little outfit?”
Roger groaned. “Stop playing twenty questions with my drummer!”
“It’s okay, Roger, I don’t mind,” Angel said. “I got the shirt on the clearance rack at Sears, I made the tank top, and the pants are from Roger’s closet. The shoes... I really can’t tell you. I use them for dancing.”
“What kind of dancing?”
“Slamdancing. I like to do some hardcore shit.
Roger’s eyes bulged. “Wait... what?!”
“You didn’t know I danced, Roger?” Angel asked.
“Uh... no?” Roger mumbled.
“Oh! I used to go to shows a lot during high school.”
Sprite came into the conversation again. “But here’s the real question. Are you dressed as a girl doing it?”
“Yeah!” Angel exclaimed, “Of course! I have a pretty pink bandanna and everything!”
Sprite roared with laughter. “Nice!” He slapped her back, a loud echoing noise hitting everyone’s ears. “I’m sorry about what I said, Roger! She does have what it takes! I’m sorry I ever doubted you, girly!”
Angel smiled. “You boys always seem to do that.”
Sprite bent down to her level. “My dearest Angel, as a certified tattoo and piercing artist, I would love to do anything you’d like to yourself. Seriously. You name it, I’ll do it.”
Angel smirked. “Really?”
“Yep! I got my stuff in my bus if you want to see some past stuff I did...”
“Can you pierce my lip?”
Roger’s jaw dropped. “What?!”
“Sure! Of done tons of those! I have a stud with your name on it... come to my bus. We’ll do it right now, before either of us have to go on.”
Roger watched them walk to Sprite’s bus. “Holy shit!” he yelled. He ran to find Mark. Mark was innocently talking to some people Roger couldn’t identify. He tapped Mark’s shoulder, which was more like a punch. Mark looked up at him, his eyes narrowing. “What’s wrong, Roger?”
“Angie, our little Angie is getting a lip ring!”
“Oh. That’s cool.”
“But! Sprite from No Pulse is doing it!”
Mark gasped. “Wow! D’ya think he’ll do my nose?”
Roger stared at him for a moment. “What the fuck is wrong with everyone?!”
“Roger, come on. She’s the punker. You know that. She may act like she’s not that punk, but she’s probably one of the most punk kids I’ve ever seen. She can relate to so many things in those bands, unlike, like, more than half the kids in the world. So her poking holes in her lip is nothing that should be strange or ‘bad’ to you... don’t tell me you lost your edge.”
“Of course not!”
“So relax, dude. Angel’s a big girl. I’m sure she’ll look good with a lipring.”
Roger nodded. “I guess...”
Mark looked back at the group of friends he recently made. “Look, Roger, just join the conversation or something. We’re debating about guitar brands...”
After a good half hour talking about guitars, girls, and gun belt buckles, Roger felt someone tap his shoulder. He turned his head.
“Hey, Roger,” Angel said calmly, Sprite coming from behind her, laughing. “She didn’t even flinch!” he exclaimed, “Doesn’t it look good?”
“Lemme see!” Mark said, turning around. He grabbed Angel and pulled her close, inspecting the silver stud on the side of her lip. “I like it!”
Angel’s eyes lit up. “You do?”
“Yeah! Where’s Collins? He has to see this...”
“He’s at the merch thing,” Angel mumbled, twirling a lock of her hair, “I hope he doesn’t kill me...”
“Not for nothin’, but it’s your body, girly,” Sprite said, “You can do whatever you want to yourself. At least, I think so. S’why I don’t beat up emo kids.” He punched Mark’s shoulder. Mark flinched. “‘Sides,” Sprite added, “if you really don’t like it, it can close up.”
Angel nodded. “I wouldn’t do that, though. I like it.”
Collins came over, telling them that they had to perform in an hour. He looked at Angel and said, “Hey... what?” He bent down and stared at the stud. “...Oh. Nice!” He laughed and kissed her cheek. “As if you don’t have enough holes in your ears...” he sighed, pushing her left earlobe, which currently housed five hoops.
******************************************************
Roger took a gulp of his beer. “Are you ready yet, Angie?”
“Do you have to be buzzed to preform?” Mark asked.
Roger’s eyes narrowed. “Shut the fuck up, Cohen.”
Mark groaned. “No. I’m not. You fucking... asshole! You’re fucking drunk! It’s not cute anymore!”
Roger pointed his bottle at Mark. “I should throw this at you...”
“Can you please stop?” Angel begged, pulling Roger back. “Relax! We have a show! The kids are depending on us!”
Roger shoved her and began to move to the stage.
Angel and Mark caught up to him. “Roger! Calm down!” Mark pleaded. Angel held his wrist like a mother begging a child to eat their vegetables.
Roger swung around. Will you guys let go?” He threw his arms up and attempted to punch them, bottle at hand. He finally dropped it at Angel’s feet and she slipped and fell, landing against a garbage can. Mark tried to help her up, but she ignored him and got in Roger’s face. “This is the second time you’ve pushed me down. Second. You fucking jackass. If I didn’t care about this band... if I didn’t care about the fans, I would leave right now. You’re lucky you have a bunch of people who care about you and this band, Roger, because you sure as hell don’t.” She looked at Mark and they walked to the stage. Roger stared for a moment at them. He looked at the garbage can and kicked it to the ground. The girl was right.
******************************************************
After the set, Angel left without a word. Roger left for the bus. Mark tried to figure out where Angel went. She didn’t go to the bus. She had to be at someone’s set. He walked to the timetable display at the front of the grounds. He smirked. AFI just started. If she wasn’t there, she had to have evaporated. Mark never forgot the time he went to her place and saw her and Mimi dancing around to AFI. She was so embarrassed, but admitted to them being one of her favorite bands. “Why did you tell us that from the beginning?” Mark asked. She shrugged and said, “I didn’t want to come off too weird.” Which, now, made sense. He found the stage and tried to get through the sea of people. There was such a wide range of people, from the old fashioned punks, to the poppier kids. “Fuck... I’m never gonna find her,” he groaned. He looked at a pit the erupted in front of him. A person hit him as they danced. They wore a tiny Armor for Sleep hoodie with wings on the back and the hood up and jeans with holes that were evidently from falling and getting dirty. They wore a pink bandanna across their face, concealing their identity.
The person punched a guy much bigger than them and got on their hands and kicked another in the back. Mark gulped. “Oh no! He’s gonna get his ass kicked!” The guy that got hit in the back laughed, instead of what Mark feared. Mark looked back at the smaller one. They got up, and the hood fell. Mark yelled, “Angel!”
Angel looked over. “Mark!” She shoved toward him, pulling down her bandana and grinning. She wore a Band-Aid over her piercing, but nothing hid the fact it was her now.
Mark yelled over the music, “I thought I’d find you here!”
Angel nodded, pulling at his arm. “I love this song.”
Mark listened, looking up at the lead singer and the guitarist. They were currently singing in each other’s faces in a very intimate way that he knew Roger and he could never do. Angel leaned on him, smiling widely as she sang with them. After the set (and the lead singer stage diving into the crowd), Angel had clearly recovered from when Roger accosted her.
“Oh my God...” she breathed, “I’ve seen those guys live about three times, and they’re just as amazing as the first time...”
“You’re such a fangirl,” Mark said, smiling.
Angel nodded. “Don’t you have a band that’s the best ever and you’ll do whatever you can for them?”
“Uhm, I guess....”
“You don’t, do you?”
“No, I really don’t.”
“Oh my God! How do you live?”
Mark laughed. It was funny how two people lived off music in different ways. “I live a very guilty life,” he said.
“I figured as much,” Angel mumbled. She looked at him, trying to figure him out just looking at his eyes. “I bet ya listen to all those critic loved indie bands and shit. Death Cab for Cutie, The Academy Is...”
“Hey, hey! I love The Academy Is...”
“...and because you’re so emo, I’m sure you love Taking Back Sunday.”
“They’re my favorite band!” Mark said, pointing to the shirt underneath his hoodie.
“I knew it! I’m good at these things.”
“You slamdanced really good,” Mark added.
Angel nodded. “It’s really fun. You can let out a lot of aggression and shit.”
“I guess. Oh! Look! Fans!” Mark pointed to a group of people in Subatomic gear, cheering. Angel gave them a rock-on sign. “I love you!” she yelled.
Mark chuckled. “You really love this stuff, don’t you?”
“Yeah! I live for it.”
******************************************************
Roger groaned, rolling in his bunk.
“Mark called,” Collins said, “Angel went to see AFI. But I doubt AFI will be able to make her very happy to see you. What the hell is with you and drinking before a show? It doesn’t help you.”
Roger grunted, throwing his pillow over his head. “Shut up! My head hurts!”
“I wonder why. Alcohol’s a drug, yanno.”
“Then we’re all addicts.”
“At least I don’t shove needles in my skin.”
“Will you shut the fuck up, Collins?”
Angel and Mark walked in. “I’m gonna take a shower,” Angel announced.
“Ew!” Mark gasped, “In the group shower? Everyone’s in there and...”
“I know. I haven’t taken one in five days. I need it, Mark.” She pulled out a bathing suit and got dressed in her bunk. She reappeared in a black and white skull adorned bikini and Hello Kitty sandals. She grabbed a bottle of shampoo and walked up to Roger, screaming in his ear. Roger groaned as she left and made her way to the showers.