W.D.Y.W.F.M. (Jesse Rutherford Fanfic)

Chapter 2

A/N: This is pretty much a filler, but hey, I've already got the other chapter as well :)

Sky’s POV

Of course I didn’t stay to listen to their soundcheck. I wasn’t going to mind-fuck myself in a battle stare off with Jesse and his cockiness. Instead, I went home, and got a nap. Mental preparation is essential, even though I would have better liked to get high for a bit.

I eventually had to return to the theater, arriving precisely an hour before the show. And then the torture began, as I saw the line of people waiting outside the venue.

I’m really fucked.

“Just go out there and do your thing…You’ve done this shit before, haven’t you?” asks a voice by my side, slightly startling me from my initial shock.

I turn around to see Brandon, the drummer, smiling at me brightly. He looks like a lost puppy in here, his happiness clearly not fitting the stressful mood. He reminds me of a child, a full-grown over-attached kid.

We talked a bit since I came back to the theater. He told me about how he’s new in the band and how he somehow feels as if he doesn’t belong because he didn’t help to write the songs, as well about his dog and girlfriend who’s coming to the show tonight. I must say he opened up a whole lot; I didn’t mind since he didn’t ask anything specific about me. He’s such a joker though, and I know that his boyish smile will eventually make me trust him. But seriously, he’s really cool. Which does not apply to everyone around here.

I don’t have anything against the rest of the band’s members. It’s alright, I guess, to be more restrained or whatever, but some of them are unbearable. Like Zach? Seriously dude, get a life. That guy is either zoned out with his guitar or concentrated on his phone. And Jesse? Still a fucking show-off.  A toothpick hanging out of mouth? Do no tell me that it’s to pick at his teeth. The others two are okay, but I didn’t talk to them since I returned to the theater. It’s such a nice Neighbourhood. Ha, the irony.

“Yeah right…” I mutter to myself, before they push me on scene. I fumble in the dark, since they’ll only light up the stage when the first notes of ‘You’re Not the One’ will start. I’m supposed to sing, what? Four songs? About 15 minutes…

Let’s just get over with it. Nobody should fucking care about me or my music, whether I mess up or succeed to sing properly. They don’t know anything about me. I’ve fought hard for these tracks to be released. I’ve defied powerful people and almost got my tongue cut out. I won’t and shall not be brought down by a stupid crowd of teenagers. They don’t know me, just sing. They don’t know you.

But there’s still this feeling in the back of my mind holding me back from being completely careless. As if someone’s eyes were draining my soul out, watching my every movement.

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Jesse’s POV

Right. The chick can sing. Her music has an appeasing 90’s twitch to it, something like a mix of Depeche Mode and The Bangles, even though I never liked those genres. Surprisingly, there’s this unclearness in her voice, a rough melancholy that can very easily be called desperateness. Or maybe even vulnerability in some way. I must admit that I’ve underestimated her, but I’m still not impressed. She’s still the frantic teenage girl to me.

 In regards to the fact that she’s wearing a cringe worthy West Coast jersey that’s barely covering her ass and messy bed hair, she still succeeds to have an impact on the crowd. They jump and lip-syncing to her restless lyrics, as she dances on stage in her black platforms to ‘Lost in My Bedroom’. It is quite catchy, and I find myself grinning stupidly as I observe her from backstage. She must have written that song when she was on crack… And it somewhat makes me wonder with what she would come up if we ever got high together. Probably something along the lines of ‘Lost in Jesse’s mouth’ or shit we could do together... Yup, sounds tempting.