Moonstar

Brick by Boring Brick - Paramore

So one day he found her crying
Coiled up on the dirty ground
Her prince finally came to save her
And the rest you can figure out

But it was a trick and the clock struck twelve
Well, make sure to build your heart
Brick by boring brick
Or the wolf's gonna blow it down

I play both the guitar and the drums but the latter is my instrument of choice. Playing the drums requires a level of strength, of aggression. The perfect outlet for one's frustration and anger. Playing the drums means playing in the background. Behind everyone else, placed in the recesses, under the shadows. Inconspicuous. Invisible.

It is my weapon of choice.

Even if I love strumming the guitar, its beautiful acoustics, and the natural fit of it in my hands. Playing the guitar equates to vulnerability for me. An intimacy I don't ever want to share with the world. Front and center for everyone to see, to scrutinize, to dissect. Amplified. Showcased.

Parapa parapa para
Parapapa parapapa
Parapa parapa para
Parapapa parapapa

Holding the cymbals, the spotlight turns off and it quiets for a second before a less than excitable crowd gives us a mediocre applause for our first set.

"Thank you. We'll take a quick break but we'll be back for our second set," Maira announces, voice hoarse and monotonous.

I tuck my drumsticks behind me into my waistband, and brush back the damp fringes sticking to my face. Adrenaline pollutes my bloodstream. Coated with a sheen of perspiration, chest heaving, heart pumping to the same rapid pace of the last song.

Working three odd jobs and sprinting to this gig should leave me spent but that's not the case. I feel electric. Every time I play is the time I feel most alive. My worries float along with the music, my demons beaten every time my sticks connect with the drums.

Kai makes his presence known by clearing his throat and when I turn to him standing beside me, I tamp the dread that's slowly clawing at my neck. Amber eyes stare down at me. "We need to talk."

"No. We don't," is all I say before I shoot out from behind the drum set.

Zach discards himself of his bass guitar and jumps off the side of the stage with an arm over Maira's shoulders.

"Luna."

I ignore Kai's call and trail behind my other roommates-ex-roommates because I'm stupid, stupid, stupid-though it doesn't take long before his front brushes my back. Breathing down my neck. Suffocating me.

"Where are you staying tonight? I've been trying to call you. Stop ignoring me. You're acting like a fucking child. Just come home with us. With me."

Home? Yeah, right. I'm gonna meed to board an international flight to go home.

Drowning Kai's words out is easier when it's not just the two of us. I only have to focus my attention on other more significant tasks like getting myself a drink, and figuring out where the fuck I'm sleeping tonight.

I brush past Zach and Maira, waiving off the latter's incessant calls, and head straight to Bob who silently slides my phone I asked him to keep before the set and a cold bottle of beer to me. "Thanks," I murmur. I take a long pull, eyes and my other hand already busy with my phone.

Amber: Dan and I are out of town. Flat's locked. Sorry talaga, Luna.

'Tangina! There goes my last chance for a free crash. Groaning, I toss my phone on the bar's top and finish my beer before lifting my gaze to Bob who's busy making a drink for a customer.