TW// This fic includes topics of Gender Dysphoria and Depression. Reader discretion is advised
Paintbrush is a 16 year old dropout music artist with a dream to become mainstream. Even though they may have the skills, do they have the willpower to ge...
Dear Diary, Today's the day. I'm performing infront of 1000 people. Never thought Id get this far but I guess I did. Oh well. Hope I dont fuck it up.
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Paintbrush sighed as they sat their pen down on their vanity. They ran their comb through their hair, fixing any fly-aways they had before going out on stage. They knew that their hair would eventually get messed up again, but they didn't care.
This was their first show in front of a crowd of more than one thousand people. One thousand! They had been producing their music for around 2 years now ever since they had gotten an electric guitar for their 14th birthday. They were "self-taught" as they liked to say, but a few hundred or so YouTube tutorials were really what taught them.
"Paintbrush on stage in 5!" The call-out rang from the backstage speakers. Paintbrush felt their heart practically jump out of their chest as they patted setting powder on their face. Come on, Paintbrush. It's just one song. You got this.
They hit the switch to turn off their room light. It flickered off, filling the room with darkness. Paintbrush's legs trembled slightly as they made their way to their roadie. "Here," he handed Paintbrush their guitar, "good luck out there, kid. You got this," the roadie held up a thumb, then walked off to talk with the other workers. The slight praise gave Paintbrush the confidence they needed to go out on stage, but they weren't sure how long they could stay out there.
"Paintbrush on stage in 1!" the speakers emitted a loud female voice as Paintbrush made their way just behind the curtains. They exhaled sharply. This was their chance to prove themselves. As they got closer to the curtains, they heard chanting. Hundreds of people roared an unfamiliar cry. Paintbrush's jaw dropped once they were close enough to hear.
The cheering was so loud. Louder than they had ever heard before. They slightly shook their head.
The earpiece beeped as it turned on. "Paintbrush on in 3," They sighed. "2," The curtains slowly started to rise. "1."
They heard an instrumental version of one of their songs playing in the background. Bright lights turned their way as they swung their guitar onto their back. People cheered and yelled, jumping up and down. Paintbrush ran out onto the stage and threw their arms up. They laughed out loud and smiled ear-to-ear.
Paintbrush made their way to the microphone, the cheers and music fading out. They tapped it with their knuckle, a slight thump reverberated throughout the room. They cleared their throat.
"Hey, everyone!" They grinned and waved. The crowd erupted into 'heys' and 'hellos' and then stopped, allowing Paintbrush to continue what they were saying. "So, who's ready to jam?" They asked as they grabbed their guitar strap and pulled it, making it swing across their shoulder and onto their chest. They grabbed their pick and strummed a chord making it echo throughout the stadium. The audience yelled in response.
