Redeemer

Chapter Two

   Soundcheck was always fascinating, seeing Remington so lively even in the empty concert hall, it seemed as if he was buzzing with excitement as we waited for our time to start. He was anxious, but he couldn't wait to perform for the hundreds of people waiting to be in the crowd, and I've never failed to see how this man can be so dearly adored. These were the only times when he would let himself be free, not constructing every future step in his beautiful, broken mind. Remington was truly happy when he was performing, no one criticized his every move when he was only listening to his own vocals, and the feedback received was nothing short of adoring fans.

     During soundcheck, anyone could see how eager the man was for the show. He wanted everything to be precise, to give everyone the experience they'll never forget. The smile that seemed plastered on his face will never seem short of art because pre-show was the only time it was prominent. I wish I could see that smile more consistently, because he was happy. He thought no one was looking when he was dancing around and singing to himself, which just made it feel more pure and genuine. 

     We were finishing up with lighting and setting up right on time for the show to begin. As usual, Remington would jump around and climb on the rafters of the ceiling, nearly falling when his foot got caught in the microphone cord. It worries me how reckless he can be.

     Later that night, I was the only person still sober. I tried to remind them that they had to wake up early, but of course, they didn't listen. Nobody needs a hangover at seven o'clock in the morning, especially when they were going to be on a radio broadcasting to hundreds of people. Being around drunk people was only fun when you were equally intoxicated, so I was hiding in my bunk until a very disoriented and inebriated Remington climbed in. 

    "Hey," he slurs, right before a fit of drunken giggling. Maybe most people are terrible when they're drunk, but Remmy is okay. Whenever he quiets down, he lays his head down on my chest, presumably using it as a pillow. He mumbles something about listening to my heartbeat, saying it sounds like some song I've never heard of. I can see where his makeup had smudged, creating more of a bruised effect, and oddly enough it still looked decent with his beautiful chocolate-brown eyes. He moves his leg over my thighs to fully lay on top of me, his thin frame fitting perfectly on mine. 

     I could've tuned out his drunken rambling, but I chose to listen. He spoke about everything and anything the boy's beautiful mind could think of, from music to clothing to food. It wasn't until the subject of his brothers came up that I actually paid attention to what he was saying. "They're just so mean," He said. That's when I could see the change in his breathing pattern, and I prayed to just about any god I could think of that he wouldn't cry, but he did. I really wish Remmy wasn't such an emotional drunk, because it pained me to see him hurting like this, brutally tearing himself apart even in his haze. If only he could see what I've seen. I wish he could see how beautiful, talented, and smart he was. 

     Remington had cried himself to sleep, still laying with his head buried in my shirt. I sighed when I heard his breathing even out, his soft breaths against the fabric of my shirt gave me goosebumps, but he was finally getting a break from his own mind. Sometimes I wonder if his dreams are as dark as his mind,  if he has nightmares or demons that won't give his mind peace even during sleep. The smell of liquor and cologne helped me drift off to dreamland, although those were never pleasant.

{Feel free to like and leave a comment, I love getting feedback. I love all of you and until the next time I update, 

Sincerily your local aesthetic whore <3}