(In this one, ur in a grunge band)
I shut my bedroom door, sighing and throwing my bag on the floor. My throat ached from the singing and screaming lyrics, making me stop my actions and rub it with my fingertips for relief.
"Ouch.." I mumbled silently to myself.
I rubbed my eyes, soon blinking a bit and looking back up, to my room. I walked to my closet, tiredly opening it and browsing my options.
My eyes laid onto my black, slightly oversized shirt. Well, not mine.. Trevor's.
I smiled at the thought of my boyfriend, soon picking the shirt off of the hanger, turning around and throwing it on my bed.
I shut my closet doors, walking to my full body mirror and looking at myself. My liquid eyeliner wing was still intact, my mascara smudged.
I mean, I don't mind smudged mascara. I do it on purpose a lot before my shows, makes me look better.
My lipstick was also smudged, the dark red tint adding onto the look. I looked at my face a bit more, before turning to my vanity and sitting on the soft seat.
I sighed, laying my face into my palms, my elbows on the table.
𝐅𝐮𝐜𝐤.. 𝐖𝐡𝐨 𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐚 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐭.
I grabbed my makeup wipes, opening the pack and pulling out a wet square. I began rubbing my face with it, being sure to get off all of it.
𝐓𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐨𝐫 𝐢𝐬 𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐛𝐞 𝐮𝐩𝐬𝐞𝐭.. 𝐇𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐬 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐈 𝐩𝐮𝐬𝐡 𝐦𝐲𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐦𝐢𝐭. 𝐄𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐝.
Crowd surfing, drinking, and partying hard after shows were big no's of his, Trevor simply looking out for me. All of which rules I broke.
I continued wiping my face, until observing it to make sure excess makeup was off. I tossed it in the mini trash can next to my vanity, the tissue dirtied.
I then stood up from my vanity, stumbling a little but catching myself from falling.
𝐈 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝..
My footsteps trailed back to my bed, sleepily taking off my shirt, tossing it in my laundry basket next to my closet. I also stripped off my skirt and shorts, leaving me in my underwear.
I also tossed those with the shirt, looking down at my bed. Trevor's shirt was sprawled out, me picking it up and putting my head through the hole, my arms in the others.
When I put it on, I grabbed the collar, bringing it up to my nose and softly breathing in Trevor's scent. He made me feel better, like a bandaid that lasted forever.
I wanted to call him, but I didn't want to bother him in case he was sleeping. He usually stays up pretty late doing whatever shit, but I still want to be careful.
I plopped down onto my bed, groaning into the sheets. My eyes squeezed shut, trying to reset my head.
𝐈 𝐝𝐨𝐧𝐭 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐢 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐤, 𝐠𝐨𝐝 𝐓𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐨𝐫 𝐢𝐬 𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐛𝐞 𝐮𝐩𝐬𝐞𝐭.. 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐈 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐡𝐢𝐦? 𝐍𝐨𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐞 𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲-
