The Sin of Falling (ONC 2024) (BxB)

Five (Fedya)

I've found that as long as I keep my mind off the loud, piercing screams located in the venue, I'm somewhat alright. I know that as soon as I tap out of this dissociative mindset that I'll probably be pushed back into the hell that's a sensory overload—-but for now, I'm okay.

     My eyes remain closed as the drumsticks crash right into the cymbal—-all I hear now is our playing and my own heartbeat.

      That's it, Fedya, I begin to think to myself. Feel that? Feel how good playing makes you feel? Yeah… That rush… Focus on that.

     Playing and hanging onto those notes produced from it is by far one of the best feelings in the world to me. It's euphoric.

     I don't know what I'd do without music. I'd probably just be a hollow shell with all of my thoughts and emotions forced back and buried, but slowly coursing their way upward, bound to explode out and leave behind an ugly mess.

     Soon enough, the concert ends and I slip backstage to just take a moment to breathe.

      You did it. You fucking did it, my mind says. You didn't die like you assumed. You're good. Focus on the good.

     Besides Stasya, I've only got one thing going for me: the band—-Hell Under Ionian.

     The reason for the name is simple, really.

      The ‘Hell’ part symbolizes the… well, hell everyone in the band has been through over the course of their lives.

      The ‘Ionian’ part is another story.

       See, everyone in the band is a siren—-we're all drawn to each other like moths to a flame. (The Ionian Sea is very important to our people, just like the Aegean.)

      In a world where our people are slaughtered in a vicious cycle that repeats every few hundred years, we have to stick together. We have to watch each other's backs. We can't afford to be alone—-none of us can.

      So, we did the only thing a group of sirens can do (without eating a fuck ton of innocents, of course)--start a band.

       For the most part, we're pretty civil—-nothing like the horror stories passed around by sailors right before a voyage through the Mediterranean. We play our songs and just hang on each note of the piece—-we remain in that place, feeding off the high of performing.

    Though, I'll admit it. I miss the taste of blood so damn much.

      I also know that if I go all blood-crazy, that'll oust our people to the public. That wouldn't be good at all. I mean, that went terribly for the vampires.

     And even through I've forced myself off blood for the time being, there's still someone in our band who enjoys sneaking around and biting the necks of people leaving our shows—-our singer. Jax Waang.

     Jax Waang is a total wildcard. Ae is always getting into trouble—-like always. (Jax has a bad habit of picking fights with gangs. Ae’ll wound up beating the shit out of all of them and forcing them into the hospital… All because they assume ae’s a girl—-Jax hates it when people assume that.)

      As I said, once a show ends, Jax will shoot out the back and take down any stragglers that exited that way, all just for some sort of ‘midnight snack', leaving the rest of us to clean up after aer.

      Vanessa Alvarez—-or as we just call her ‘Ness’--is our guitarist. Ness practices day and night to make sure her solos are perfect.

      Honestly, I'm not sure why she's so obsessed with being perfect, but who am I to judge? I'm siren who sucks at love, after all. (I think her trying to make everything perfect all comes down to the idea of wanting people under her spell.)

     Ness is obsessed with the idea of us being like the sirens of the past. (In a way, we are like the sirens of the past since we're all centuries upon centuries old, but I'm referring to the ancient sirens—-the ones that are basically elderly compared to us.)

     Ness wants us to be proud of ourselves—-be proud of who we are. She doesn't want us to hide in the shadows. It's why she always makes an effort to seduce people—-which works every time—-at our shows… She’s backed off on the killing though, even though she complains about the lack of bloodless corpses in our wake each time.

     Ya’no Kanatiqueli is our bassist—-and probably the best bassist I've ever met, at that. They're surprisingly very relaxed and mellowed out all the time. Ya’no’s the person you can talk to whenever you feel like you've got something to get off your chest so desperately.

     Not to say I don't care about Jax or Ness, but out of all of my fellow band mates, I trust Ya’no the most. They don't give up a secret—-and they sure as hell don't rat you out. (Ness and Jax will snitch on you if that means they get to watch drama go down.)

     Ness and Jax would probably sell my soul to the devil for a Cheeto—-guess I can't blame them; you have to do what you can to survive, after all.

     Stasya’s waiting backstage for me, rocking back and forth. “Hi, Papa!” She beams.

     I smile to her, wrapping one arm around her, holding her close. “Hi, sweetie.”

     “You guys sounded really good out there,” Stasya says, happily.

    I laugh, amused by her words. “Stasya, you say that everytime.”

     Stasya’s quick to become defensive. She crosses her arms. “Well, that's because you guys sound good all the time!”

     I laugh again, this time softer. “Yeah. I suppose.” There's a pause before I continue. “Guess that's just the siren charm.”

      “Can you reach me to play?” She asks me.

       I raise an eyebrow. “The drums?”

      Stasya nods. “Yeah!” She's quiet before adding, “Guitar too.”

     Oh, boy, my mind begins. “Yeah… I'll get around to teaching you to play the drums.”

      “And the guitar?”

      “I don't know about that, Stas…” I reply.

      Stasya slumps a little. “Why?” She pouts. “I thought you knew how to play every instrument.”

      “Well, kinda. But I still need to brush up on my guitar skills… It's been a while since I played,” I clarify.

     “Okay…” She exhales. “When was the last time you played it?”

     “Uh… 1989, I think,” I say, laughing a bit when I see Stasya's eyes grow wide at that response.

     Behind me I can hear the sounds of footsteps.

     I turn.

     Right there is the guy who I bumped into in the restroom.

      He's got a backstage pass.