𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐋 𝐖𝐀𝐋𝐊𝐒 ↬ нѕ

▹ some dance to forget.

song: little lover
by AC/DC

Woodstock. New York.
Two hours after Metallica.

♪ ♪ ♪

Cherry bomb.

The people in the tent's beside Elliot's truck gathered around in a large crowd around five o'clock in the morning. It's six now as we lay awake in each other's arms, listening to the group of people perform as if they were on the ones on the North Stage, singing the lyrics to a Joan Jett song.

The hard rock fanatics shout the lyrics without a worry in the world, completely unbothered as people ditch the idea of sleeping. Why would you sleep anyway? If it's not the guitars catching your attention it's the screams of laughter as people run around and slide down the man-made mudslides and dirt piles.

When the event first started the security was tight. Nine miles of chain fences surrounded the area to keep out strays. Drugs and alcohol were forbidden and only so many people were allowed in at once. But now it's the last day and anything goes. Thousands of new people have already entered since we got back to the car. Blunts and joints are being smoked while alcohol gets passed around like a free for all.

Elliot leans over and kisses my cheek, holding tightly onto my hand as he places his chin on the top of my head. "I want to take a picture." He coos, my lips curling up into a smile as I pull my knees close to my chest, and fall closer against his body. "Today was the best day of my life. I can't ever forget this." He adds on, reaching for his bag beside him.

He starts looking for his camera while I sit up and rest my arms down on the side of the truck. I look around and smile at the people around me, glancing up at the night sky that's full of what looks to be a million stars. I even make a wish, praying whatever happens the last few hours we're here will be just as memorable, if not more, than what we've already experienced today.

"Shit." Elliot curses under my breath as my head whips back over my shoulder to see what's wrong. "Shit. Shit. Shit." He rummages through his bag in a hurry, tossing things around in the bed of the car as he starts to panic. "I can't find it. I literally just had it. I can't not have it. It's your dad's camera. He'll kill me. He already wants to kill me." His voice raises as he slams his balled up fist against the bag. "Do you know where I put it?" He turns around and faces me with widened eyes.

Parting my lips, I shake my head and furrow my brows as I reach over and grab the bag he had taken his anger out on. "I'm sure it's here somewhere. Don't freak out. We'll find it and if we don't, he'll kill me too." I glance up at him and softly smile as I blindly start digging my hands through his belongings, trying my best not to panic.

Dean, my dad, would kill me if he found out I took his camera without asking. It's like his prize possession. He takes before and after pictures of all of the cars he works on at his shop every weekend, that way he can see his improvement.

He has over a hundred pictures on it and I know for a fact if I lose it we'd both be dead. He's got a little bit of a temper and if I tell him Todd Rundgren stole it from us he'd think I was either lying or taking shrooms.

"Oh, I'm a fucking idiot." He suddenly sighs and mutters under his breath, catching my attention as I pause the movement of my hands. "How crazy do you think I'd sound if I told you I left your dad's camera in Todd Rundgren's tent?" He speaks quietly like he's embarrassed, as my eyes slowly close from the idea of him leaving it there. "Don't get upset? I can go back and get it, it's fine. He won't even know it was gone in the first place."