metulji - jan peteh

Ona - Jan POV

It was now 3 weeks since we returned to Slovenia, but nowhere felt like home. I didn't find the usual comfort in the blooming flowers of Ljublana as I usually did; solace did not come to me at all. Instead, I sat restless, wondering how long all of these issues would take to blow over. The matter at hand was that I'd now lost my charisma; that a certain two members of the band had acted slightly coldly to me since we got back. I couldn't exactly blame them, but it really didn't help the dynamic at all. We couldn't put on a good show while there was an ongoing dispute, and since they believed they were so in the right, they were not going to resolve it with me.

Since I walked into the apartment that night, it felt so empty. The wardrobes were complete with clothes for the upcoming ventures and beyond, the bathroom was littered with outfits from previous days, and the cupboards were stocked with food that we'd never have been able to eat. Yet everything was still missing. The aura of flirtiness and fun had completely removed itself from the rooms, and despite looking everywhere for it, I knew she had taken it with her. She had packed it like a belonging and thrown it out of the window whilst on the road. If we couldn't both share it, I suppose that it was better there, discarded, far away.

Now, I just sat flipping the red-framed glasses Lilia had bought for me, searching for sun in the lenses. Yet all they showed me was my own reflection; lost and solitary. Surrounded by people, but feeling so alone that I could've shouted for help and nobody would turn back to help me. I was drowning in my own sorrow without a hand to pull me out.

Fucking hell, that was a depressing thought.

'Right boys. Charisma. Flirt. Eye contact. Give them everything.' Bojan emphasised the last term, looking into my eyes as he did it. Great, he'd just managed to list everything I'd just said I was incapable of having. Although I was sure my face showed disapproval, it didn't take long for him to stop focusing on me.

'Tell me, am I attractive to you, Krisko?' he laughed, strutting up to Kris in a seductive manner, biting his lower lip. This wasn't the end of the interaction, I just chose to zone out to avoid breaking down.

'We are Joker fucking Out. Those people out there are here for us already. Make them love us even more.' This was the conclusion of his speech. He looked around to us all, like he was awaiting a cheer or applause or a congratulations. Instead, we all stood up, and joined him in a circle. Without thinking, I instinctively placed the glasses I was holding over my eyes to get them out of the way; it was time for our handshake, and I couldn't miss that.

'SSF!' we all shouted in unison, placing our hands into the centre and throwing them down towards the ground. Kris sounded particularly aggressive, which was normal for him at the moment, but definitely wouldn't have been a month ago.

I wore a black shirt under a red jacket, completing the look with a pair of black leather pants. As I headed towards the exit, I realised that I still had the glasses on. It was too late to rush away to put them back into the dressing room, too late to put them anywhere, in fact. Entering the stage, I found a second to just move them up to my forehead, to keep my hair out of my face. I grinned at the fans, wincing through the pain that I knew would last longer than just a few concerts. But they didn't need to know.

Another band had just opened for us; they left the stage through the door on the other side as we took the energy up a notch.

'Make some fucking noise for Joker Out!' Bojan screeched as he ran to take his position as the frontman. In response, the entire crowd screamed, practically breaking the barrier with the amount of sound they produced.

As usual, Katrina was first. We rushed to take our instruments - mine was on the floor in the left corner of the stage, as usual. I picked it up and fell away with the music, repeating the tune I'd played so many times before. Yet it felt like something new to me this time.

Povej mi, Lilia, me sploh rada imaš?

~•~

Later on into the concert, I'd managed to develop some sort of false persona to get me through the night. Nace had picked up a pair of heart-shaped sunglasses from someone in the audience, so I'd put the red ones back over my face again as we got closer to each other, strumming our strings. I was significantly more aggressive with my playing - I was sure nobody would notice anyway, given the fact it was an electric guitar I held in my hands, not an acoustic. Nace looked slightly alarmed, but we just played as usual, locking eyes for a few short moments as I ground out the tabs. He was one of the pair that was acting normally with me; I was grateful, given the fact that he was definitely one of my closest in the group.

The rest of the concert was fairly insignificant - everything was normal. Bojan was being his usual energetic self, running around the stage, shouting, going through with his typical hand motions which made the audience go wild every time, however unoriginal they were. The only slightly out of place thing was how Kris didn't come over to me as he usually did in some songs; we would occasionally meet just off-centre during the endings to up the tensity. But he never came. Never made eye contact with me, never even glanced briefly in my direction. Maybe I'd fucked up badly, but he shouldn't have been doing that during a concert: what the fuck was he on?

I decided to ignore it and just press on with the initiative. But soon enough, we hit Ona.

Ona.

Exactly what I fucking needed.

My string-pulling just became more angry as the song began. I had tried to start off calmer, but it was too difficult to keep my mind off the issues when Bojan was practically singing them directly down my ear.

As we fell into the chorus, I practically lost it. To put it simply, we all had microphones for backing vocals; we needed those for songs like Carpe Diem. What we didn't need them for was songs like this.

The ones on this stage were different to the norm, triggered by a foot-pedal rather than off-stage action from one of the team. I wasn't sure how much trouble I would get into for doing what I was about to do, but given how low the microphones were set, it wouldn't make much of a difference anyway. Fuck it, I thought. Press the fucking pedal, Jan.

'Znaj, bebo znaj
Celu noć sam plakao zbog tebe
Taj osećaj
Da za mene živo ti se jebe
Ubija me'

We belted these lines in unison now. I felt like I was about to collapse; the focus on releasing my stress, singing half-decently, and still playing the correct song made me feel nauseous.

The crowd responsed well, at least half of them turned in my direction to clap for me. It wasn't abnormal for something like this to happen at a concert, but this wasn't preplanned - someone would surely kill me.

Before long, we had reached the near-end of the song. Bojan held the mic out towards the audience for them to sing the last few lines. Yet despite the noise, I couldn't hear any of them. My ears locked up, not absorbing any of the sound. Panicking, I stared down into the audience, filled with worry at my sudden loss of control.

Then I realised why.

She appeared before me; the image of her flowing brown hair and deep eyes staring directly into mine. She was on the front row, looking at me in somewhat admiration, smiling. Leaning on the barricade, her mouth opened, and the sound of her voice penetrated through whatever fit I was experiencing in that moment.

'Celu noć si plakao zbog mene
Celu noć si plakao zbog mene.'

Grinning smugly, her face folded into a smirk, and she faded into the cool night air.

I struggled to end the song after that.