How To Save Rock And Roll

Chapter 12 - Five years later

Five years later...

You were sitting at the counter of a bar, your favorite drink in your hands.
The bar was silent, the only sounds that were audible were the ones of people talking and the television behind the counter.
"It has been now five years since the bodies of Patrick Stump, Joseph Trohman, Isaac Slade and Nicholas Petricca were found in an abandoned hospital that caught fire..." You heard the voice of the journalist in the TV.
You brought your drink closer to your lips and took a sip when a guy sat on the seat next to yours.
"The investigators still have no evidence as to give explanation as to why Patrick Stump was stabbed before the accident, or why they were in that hospital in the first place."

"It's pretty sad what happened," The guy next to you muttered. You turned your gaze to him.
He had a black beanie on his head, silver and black glasses, and well, to be honest, he wasn't the skinniest of the guys. He had strawberry blonde hair and a thin beard, it looked like he didn't shaved in a few days. And his eyes, you felt like you knew those eyes, those bluish green eyes.
"Yes, yes it is," You agreed with a sigh, looking down at your drink.

"The Syndicate got hold of a new state last night. Music is now illegal in Colorado." The journalist on the television continued to say.
"Wow, Colorado now? That's the thirtieth state that they got, soon it'll be all the USA." The guy said, "I hate the Syndicate."
"Me too, man, I miss music," You mumbled, still looking at your drink.
"We'll bring it back, don't worry." He assured you.

"Enough politics. I'm Martin. And you?" He said, extending his hand out for a handshake.
You took his hand and smiled. "I'm Y/N."
"So, what is a girl like you doing in a place like this? You don't have a boyfriend to spend the night with?" He asked.
"Well, actually, I don't have a boyfriend anymore."
"Oh, I'm sorry," He apologized.
"No, that's okay. It's not like he left me, he died in a car accident...five years ago. And the saddest thing is that, I don't really remember how he looked like. I was in the car with him and I lost some of my memories in the accident." You chuckled.
"I'm sorry," He repeated himself, placing his hand on your back.

"What about you? What are you doing here?" You asked him, wanting to change the subject.
"I came here with some friends." He gestured to three men sitting a table behind you near the entrance.
One guy had short hair but that looked curly, he also had tattoos that were hid by the sleeves of his shirt. Another one of the guys was really tall and had a cap; he appeared bald. The last guy was shorter than the guy with the cap, and had longish brown hair.
"Actually, similar to you, I had a girlfriend five years ago. We had planned a double date and I was going to propose that night. But, I went home to pick her up and she wasn't there, she left me and I've never seen her again." He said, looking at his hands on the counter.
"Looks like 2015 is a damned year." You laughed.
"Yeah." He laughed too.

The night went on and the two of you talked and drank.
His friends decided to leave you to spend the night alone and left the bar sometime around midnight.
Martin was really nice.

"You know, we've been talking for nearly three hours, and you seem really happy, but I can tell that you're not," Martin blurted out, "What could make you feel better?" He asked.
"Music, but you know, we can't listen to music anymore..."
"The Syndicate will never know," He murmured, the corner of his lip curling up into a devious smirk.
"Yeah, but, where can you find music? There's no music stores anymore and they removed all music from every house," You said.
Martin leaned closer to you and whispered in your ear, "And what if I told you that I have music at my apartment?"
You could smell the alcohol in his breath.
"I wouldn't believe you. You're drunk."
"I just drank a few glasses. I'm not that drunk!" He stood up, "Come on. Come to my apartment with me. I'll show you."
You thought for a moment then stood up and followed him.