FicWad

I rushed home as soon as I finished up checking stock to start prepping myself for the gig. I half-ran as fast as I could back to my dormroom, my face illuminated with the beginnings of a sunset and the glow of the orange streetlights, and I replayed our conversation in my head. Bits of it were missing, lost in the blur of the moment and a lot of caffeine.

**

Flashback

"OH! I love this song!" I squealed, as Jefferson Airplane's haunting "White Rabbit" played through the speakers in Starbucks. "Jefferson were my first favourite band ever."

You coughed. "HIPPY!"

"Shut up," I smiled. "Blame my stupid hippy Mom. I swear, I was THIS CLOSE to being called Woodstock." I shuddered. "Just be thankful I wasn't a girl, or you would be sitting here talking to Love Peace Hope Charity Faith.."

I took in the little creases in your eyes that formed when you laughed your PrettyBoy laugh. "Ha, Thank God for that! So other than your peace loveydovey shit, what other stuff d'you listen to?"

"Cheesy old-school metal, uh, Green Day, Rancid, Black Flag...Any 90's grunge. Um...OH! The legends themselves, The Misfits. And Metallica." I replied. "I really do have the worst taste in music ever."

"Nah you don't, it's just extensive. I'm pretty much the same. I like everything from Iron Maiden to Morrissey. Man, he has some great lyrics."

I nodded. You were all serious when it came to music. "Is that what I'll be expecting tonight then? Maiden meets Morrissey?"

"Hell no! We don't really sound like anyone, if you know what I mean. We sort of sound like a horror movie on Broadway."

End Flashback

**

Now THAT I liked the sound of.

New Jersey had needed a new scene for ages. After grunge had fizzled out, well, all was left was a bunch of second-rate Misfits cover bands. With a few exceptions, of course. I even stopped going to shows, because I'd gotten sick of bands ruining "Teenagers From Mars".

Anyway, I rushed into my flat past my "I'm-so-frickin'-perfect-I-went-to-France-once-and-have-a-beret-stuck-permanately-to-my-head" roommate, hopped in and out of the shower, and pulled my Bouncing Souls shirt over my head, along with my black jeans and stood in front of the grubby mirror. Who was I kidding? PrettyBoys like you needed PrettyGirls. I'm definitely not a PrettyGirl. I'm more RetardBoy. I wasn't sure if you were even interested in guys, so I tried desperately not to get my hopes up.

I grabbed my keys and escaped from my "roomie". If I had to spend any more time with him than I had to, I'd probably kill myself. I headed down to the Dead Man's Club and paid my $5 fee at the door. The deal was that it was five bands for $5. Pretty good. I took my place at the back of the tiny dark room beside a few guys on chairs and stood awkwardly, chewing my nails, waiting for the show to start.

When it was finally MCR's turn to play, the place had filled up. I grabbed a chair myself to stand up on (I swear, shortness is a curse), and watched as you and the band filed on. You came on last, after Mikey (I could recognise the thick glasses anywhere.). From where I was standing, I could make out that you and him were stumbling a little and giggling to yourselves, like school kids on acid. The room had quieted down when the band launched in to your first song. The heavy riff caught my attention. The guitarist was hella good! And you had one hell of a pretty voice. You didn't just scream, you sang your heart out. In fact, the whole package was awesome. You were as catchy as a Green Day song, while at the same time scaring the hell out of me. Horror movie on Broadway indeed.

The crowd didn't really feel the first song, but when the next started, it was pure chaos. The mosh pit opened right down nearly down to the back of the room. Even I was struggling to stay put on my chair. It pretty much stayed this way to the end of the gig. I was disappointed that I couldn't hear any of your "warped" lyrics 'cause of the crappy sound system. The only time I could make out what you said was when you screamed, "We are My...Chemical...ROMANCE!"

This definitely was the best night ever. And I intended on telling you that.

The crowd filtered out after the band left the stage, (You being the only band to get an encore) and I set off into the cool night air. I spotted you loading the stuff back into a van with the rest of the band, drinking and laughing. My feet started heading in your general direction, and I nervously tapped you on the shoulder, not sure if you would even remember me.

"Um, hi..." I was interrupted by a huge bear hug. You smelled of sweat, alcohol, cigarettes and coconuts, oddly enough.

"FRANK! Hi, hi, hi," You grinned manically. God, you were pissed. "You came! What did ya think? Were we good? Guys, this is my good, good, good friend Frankie from Starbucks. We had coffee today!" Frankie? I hadn't heard that since the 3rd grade! "Frankie, meet Ray, Bob and Mikey." I smiled at each guy in turn. "So yeah, what did you think? Did yah like it?"

"Awesome possum!" Oh my God. Awesome possum?! Where the hell did that come from? "Best gig since Metallica!" Phew, that was better.

"Aw, you don't mean that. Nobody's better than Metallica! Hey, you coming for a drink with us?" By the looks of it, you had had enough. Your eyes were sunken and your pupils were so wide they looked like big black holes in your head.

"Uh, no thanks. College first thing tomorrow. I couldn't face going hungover." I smiled. Can everyone say 'nerd'?

"Oh, 'kay. But we all have to hang out sometime; you're not escaping that easy! We just got another slot here, next Friday. You coming?"

"Of course! I'm there. Yeah, definitely we have to hang out." We said our goodbyes, and I turned to go home as you stumbled off in the opposite direction.

"FRANKIE!" You shouted. "AWESOME POSSUM!"

I turned and laughed. "Yeah, awesome possum..."

Fucking hell. Nights like this I'll never forget.