Wanna Be Yours

chapter two: cardan

August 12th

August 12th

I'm a puppet on a string,

Tracy Island, time traveling.

Cutter-shaped heartaches...

Pre-show rituals, like singing Lady Gaga before shows, were not only a tradition but also absolutely necessary to bring good luck to Court of Shadow's performances. Wherever that superstition came from had always been blurry in their memories, but it had stuck, and now they all believed it full-heartedly.

Midnight black curls bounced gracefully against Cardan's shoulders as he swayed from side to side with the other band members. Roach to his left, Oak to his right, all their arms around each other, full grins staring one at the other. Ghost's tiny speaker, which was surprisingly loud, blasted Gaga as she talked of a boy, and a girl, and a 'huh,' and a game. Cardan sang passionately, running out of breath, his entire body aching to dance full-out to every beat, anything by Lady Gaga had that effect on him.

"Are we ready to win?" Roach's deep voice called as the song finished, untangling himself from the rest as he began to stretch.

"We always are." Ghost replied rather softly.

Everyone cheered before leaving the room in an almost- silence, considering there was a bar on the other side of the dressing room door. Everyone began to either stretch, or to hop around shaking nerves. It was another small pre-show tradition. A short moment of silence in which they individually ran over lyrics or music, they gather their thoughts, and visualized their performance. For Cardan, this was the moment where he pictured himself on the center of the stage, being the star, being the very center of the universe.

But today was slightly different, which Cardan was not appreciating in the slightest. His thoughts did not belong to the current moment, his worries lay elsewhere, his heart beat fast, not from pre-show nervousness, but from unpleasant words he had received the night before. Inside his chest was a vicious swirl of desperation, frustration, anger, and the heavy urge to throw himself against the ground, cry himself to death, and rot as weeds and grass grow over him and bury his body six feet underground.

"We go up in ten, gentlemen," Roach exclaimed, his beam managed to, at least, get Cardan his most sincere smile of the day.

"Better get on stage soon then," Cardan replied, quickly turning to his side of the vanity. "You all go, I'll follow you in a bit."

"Got more make-up you wanna add to your racoon-looking eyes?" Ghost giggled as he made his way to the door where Roach was already standing.

"Oh, be quiet." Cardan rolled his eyes, "But yes, perhaps that is my goal."

"Alright, alright. Don't be late though." Roach called as he walked down the hall.

"I will not," Cardan called as he sat down in his chair with a small sigh.

Though unfortunately for him, even before he was allowed to have any quiet time with his honest thoughts, Oak sat down on the chair beside him and stared him down, in that creepy manner he enjoyed doing, and waited until Cardan asked the usual, "What is it."

To which, Oak always countered with, "You're off."

"I am-"

Not. I am not.

That was what Cardan always attempted to say. Unfortunately for him, lying had never been his forte, and neither has it ever been Oak's. However, it was different for his nephew. Oak, the golden boy, the ray of sunshine never had anything to hide, unlike Cardan, who wished he had the world's largest shovel to dig up a hole for all the things he wished he could make disappear and never have to worry about again.