Heartstrings (Haru and bluedragon1200)

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Haru Senpai

Original poster
"So this is where you booked us, huh babe?" The quartet appraised the stage they would be playing on, setting up before the club became busy. Rather, Damian, Mikal, and Briggan were busy hauling their heavy equipment into the appropriate positions.

"Hey Eli!" Briggan's stentorian voice shouted toward the sitting man who had a cigarette loosely hanging from his lips, "why don't you come help us out, Fucker? Damian's too scrawny to lift his god damn drums." The aforementioned blond rolled his eyes while he struggled to pull a speaker on a moving dolly. In traveling to the club, the band had woken up late, thus missing breakfast. The three knew to avoid Briggan if he'd gone without caffeine in the last twelve hours, but the lazy guitarist seemed to have offended him.

"Fuck off man, I already got my shit. It's not my job to babysit you guys." Eli sighed, resting his head against the cool wall. Technically, he was correct. His prized electric guitar was lying on the ground behind the microphone Mikal had just finished setting up, in a dangerous position waiting to accidentally get stepped on.

"You call that-" Briggan began, red-faced.

"Relax, Briggs. I got it." Mikal shook his head, setting the instrument in its stand and making sure the amp was correctly connected. "And I can help Damian out. Let Eli sleep, he's the one who drove most of the time anyway." He received a thumbs up from Eli, though Briggan continued to grumble about how Mikal needed to quit letting him have his way.

"Better not find you two being gross in the truck either." Briggan pointed to the pair while Damian made a point of slapping Mikal's backside, immediately responding with, "shut up! You and I both know you get off on watching." The shorter man replied, leaving the other two with only his echoing cackles while he and Mikal hauled the last of the equipment.

When it was time to play, the four cleaned up well, especially after Briggan had downed at least two silver and blue cans of energy drink. The arguing had come to a standstill, Mikal paced until it was their time to play. Practice had been forced to a minimum, and though the difference could hardly be told, it was almost certain that Eli was stoned. Finally, when everyone was ready, they took the small stage.

Mikal was front and center, his silver mic gleaming even under the less than spectacular lighting; Damian was behind him, sitting behind his drum set and twirling his drumsticks; with his hair slightly obscuring one eye, Mikal was stage left, and still managing to look serious, Briggan adjusted his bass while he examined the people at the bar. It was fairly crowded, there was much more people than any of them were used to playing in front of, but the once shy Mikal was taking it all in stride.

"Hello everyone we are BlindEye," Mikal's voice sounded from the speakers on state, and even from around the room as the bar owner had agreed to allow the band to use them. He went on about how they were happy to play for everyone tonight, adding a few more embellishments to his words in an attempt to earn the crowd's favor. He ended by stating the name of their first song, and then Mikal started them off with a fast, high-tempo intro, Briggan providing a deep, accenting rhythm while Damian pounded away at his drums. It was their "high energy" that people were normally drawn to. When Mikal finally began the first verse, his voice carried well. Slightly adenoidal, those who were listening (and there were several who were more focused on drinking) were enjoying the punk rock band.

It would be a good show, Mikal figured by the end of the first song. The club was full of people just barely over the drinking age who fed off of the energy they produced. He wondered if it would continue to go well should he go on with the plan he had in mind.


Original poster
Jordan followed Liz into dark bar. The steady beat of the bass drum and bass guitar could be heard from the outside. The sound resonated in Jordan's chest. It made him uneasy and energized at the same time. His bright green eyes took in the surroundings. The walls were covered in posters ranging from well known artists to local ones. Young people sat around, bobbing their heads to beat with a beer in hand. There was something about hearing a band live. The large speakers were more powerful than most cars or anything at home. Something about seeing the performers and feeling their energy was memorizing.

The crowd made Jordan nervous. He didn't like being near large groups of people. He curled up as much as possible in his large sweater and let his brown hair fall in his face. Liz, on the other hand, was already moving with the music with a drink in hand. She was wearing a low cut shirt and light jacket. She smiled at another girl in the bar, silently calling her over. Jordan rolled his eyes. Every few weeks she talked him into going to an event like this with her and every time she disappeared within an hour, leaving him to find a way home, alone. He relaxed a little, letting the music take him over.

Jordan listened carefully. Some groups that played at bars were painful to listen to, as if they didn't know how to tune their guitars or how to count. Some bands might have good technique, but it was covered by too much screaming or hidden in covers of fleeting pop songs. This band was different. Their music sounded familiar, although Jordan couldn't name a single tune. He stopped studying the people around him in the crowd and looked up to the stage. He watched the lead singer closely. The angles of his face, the sad demeanor, but it couldn't be. Jordan walked closer to the stage, almost as if in a trance. He stopped a few feet away.

The bar was average size. The stage was really a platform, putting the performers two steps higher than the audience. There weren't a whole lot of bright lights. The mic stand gave a dull sparkle, the guitars flashed occasionally. Part of him wanted to walk up on stage in mid song, part of him wanted to run. He settled on half way, staying where he didn't think Mikal could see him. It had been five years since high school. A lot had happened. Jordan's arms itched. He chewed on his lip, hungry for something that wasn't food.
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